22 Dane
Dane
A FAMILY WAS NEVER something I pictured for myself.
Growing up an only child with a mom who loved me but treated me more like a friend and a dad who had not only anger issues but also a misguided idea of what dominance and control was, the idea of having children was not a dream.
What I wanted was something quieter, a life without shouting matches or constant turmoil.
Especially after a childhood spent listening to my parents fight nearly every day.
Truly, all I ever dreamed of was a quiet life that made me happy.
A life that fulfilled me and gave me a purpose. The one I thought I had now.
I take after my old man in many ways, but I’ve kept the good parts of him and rewritten the bad.
Before I started doing what I do now, I logged full-time, just like he did, but on my own terms. I didn’t log because I had to; I did it because I loved the solitude, the physical work, and the constant change of scenery.
And when it came to my dominant nature, I found a healthier way to channel it.
I didn’t need control to feel powerful or to lord over anyone. I needed connection. Purpose.
I found the kink community in my early twenties while working at a logging company in Portland.
I spent time at a local club, learned under one of their best Doms, and understood—for the first time—that dominance could be about trust and responsibility, not fear and control.
I spent a few years bouncing around, including a stretch in New York, before I eventually ended up in Starlight Haven.
I hadn’t planned to stay, but there was something about this place that felt healing.
Settling down here finally gave me the quiet I’d been chasing for years.
Then my Loopr account exploded, and I started Domming full-time.
Over the last five years, I’ve grown into myself in ways I never imagined I could. I healed parts of me that felt broken—not only through the work I do but also with a therapist—and settled into the nice life I created.
I’ve been fine with limited human interaction, satisfying any need for touch when it came by driving down to a club in LA, which, as I told Fox, I’ve stopped doing.
Not only did the interactions feel empty, but they were not as fulfilling as my work online is.
It didn’t matter, though—at least, I thought it didn’t, because I have my dynamics, my cabin, painting, and running.
I also have my Loopr account where I act out scenes and have fun.
I thought I had everything I could want, and I was content.
Cue the curveball I didn’t expect: Lindsey.
If I did picture a potential partner coming into my life, I certainly did not expect them to be completely new to submission.
I didn’t expect them to be such a stunning yet sassy brat.
I didn’t expect them to live in this little mountain town I call home.
And I most certainly didn’t expect them to have a kid, a sweet and witty one I find endearing and funny.
Tonight, I went to the diner to pick up my breakfast for dinner, something I do every Sunday. It’s rare I go inside; Cheryl sees my truck pulling up and brings it out. I know it’s because she’s hoping I’ll ask her out or talk to her about my life.
She’s tried to pry information out of me since she started working at the diner a couple of years back, but I’ve given her minimal information. Sometimes, I think she watches my videos online, but I honestly don’t know, and I’m not going to ask her.
When I drove up to the diner, I spotted Kas and Lindsey sitting at a booth through the window.
Before I knew what I was doing, I’d parked my truck and made my way in.
I don’t know what I thought would happen when they noticed me, but I sure as hell didn’t expect Kas to invite me to eat with them.
I didn’t expect myself to say yes, either.
But now I’m learning that I should expect the unexpected when it comes to Lindsey and Kas.
On top of that, I do and say things that are completely out of character for me, things that lead me to believe Fox is right.
I need to speak with Lindsey about moving our relationship forward in a different direction.
I’ve been thinking about it all week, during every message, every bit of praise I send, but I’ve been allowing us to settle into our dynamic, wanting to ask her at the right time.
I open my laptop and go to my email to catch up on some work. My email is stacked full with new requests to work with me. Usually, that means a video has gone viral or at least gotten enough views for people to want to know more about what I do and see if they can get on my waitlist.
I pick up my phone and open Loopr, finding that a video has over eight hundred thousand views. There are thousands of comments, too. It’s a minute-long one I uploaded earlier this morning that I filmed the night after I called Lindsey my good girl.
I kept my shirt on, the lighting dark so I could edit it in black and white.
My button-up is black, and I have it rolled up on my forearms. It’s one of my more erotic videos, where I’m pretending to talk to a submissive that needs punishment, which explains why it’s done as well as it has.
I’m sure my email is full of inquiries asking if I do in-person scenes.
The internet is thirsty, and when I give them water, they drink.
This video will pay out well, so it’s done its job.
I go to exit out of the app when a new comment comes through on my notifications, and I stop in my tracks at the username.
I look at the time on my phone and see it’s seven.
Lindsey’s socials won’t lock for a bit yet, so I guess someone is scrolling and looking at my page.
I probably shouldn’t be as happy as I am about it, but the fact she commented tells me someone wants to play.
I take a sip of my decaf coffee, almost choking on it when I read the comment she left on my video.
@WhyAmIHere33: How would you punish me?
I swallow down the hot liquid and read the notification again while I cough. Then I read it again.
It’s no different from some of the other comments on the video, but my reaction is based solely on it coming from her. Did she drink that wine I told her not to drink the other night?
I sit up in my chair, deciding I can answer my other submissives in a minute.
Lindsey is mine, after all. There’s also the question that’s been running through my mind since I left Fox’s last week.
If I were to do what he said, allow my subconscious thoughts that are now conscious to manifest into a relationship with her, an in-person one, would she say yes?
Part of me thinks she wouldn’t. She didn’t come to me for more than what we’re doing now.
But then I read a comment like that, and I remember what she said about how she’d ease my disappointment and the blushing emoji she sent, not to mention the flirty undertones of our messages this week, and I think she would.
Maybe she’s even imagined it or wants it already like I do, even if I’ve been berating myself and attempting to deny it.
Fuck it.
I open up my messaging app and find Lindsey’s name, typing a message before I can talk myself out of it.
Me
Are you drinking?
It takes less than thirty seconds for her next message to pop up.
Lindsey
No, Sir. Why do you ask?
Me
The comment you left on my video was brave.
Lindsey
Do you think I need alcohol to be brave?
Me
No, I think you’re brave already. Maybe the better word is uninhibited.
Lindsey
I’m sorry, Sir. Did my comment make you uncomfortable?
Me
No, but you’re playing with fire.
The bubbles pop up, and then go down again. Then they pop up and go down again. She does this for a while before a message finally comes through.
Lindsey
Will you tell me then, Sir?
Me
Tell you what?
Lindsey
What it would be like if I were your submissive.
A possessive clawing itches at my chest, and my desire to find out where she lives so I can remind her exactly who she belongs to takes over. The urge is unexpected, like everything with Lindsey, but instead of stuffing it down, I embrace it.
Me
You are my submissive, Lindsey. Or have you forgotten?
Her response comes quickly, and the clawing at my chest is satisfied for a moment.
Lindsey
I haven’t forgotten. I know I’m your submissive, Sir.
Me
Then what is it you meant?
Lindsey
What would it be like if I was your submissive and you came home to find me starting without you. How would you punish me?
Fuuuck. Blood rushes from my brain to my dick, and I know this has already gone too far.
We’ve already crossed lines that we can’t come back from.
In any other scenario, I would have ended it with a submissive who asked me this.
I would have ended our relationship well before this because of my reactions to her, like when I called her baby.
Everything about this, about our talks, goes against my rules. Goes against what I’ve tried to maintain and build with my clients. But with Lindsey…
I want to break the rules for her.
Me
If you want the answer, we need to discuss it, and I need your consent. Not only that, I need to see your face and hear your voice when you say it. Are you able to do that?
I’m expecting a message. But instead, my screen flashes with an incoming video call. It rings once, twice, my heart thudding hard in my chest. Then I click accept.