Chapter 7
Simmons
“Deeper, I know you can take it,” I groan as I sit at my work desk.
Jake has an amazing mouth. Hot, wet, and with plump lips. He is a sight to behold. We have weekly meetings on our D/s relationship, my request, and if they went well, Jake always serviced me before he left.
I had met him at Nyctra four weeks beforehand.
He had approached me on his hands and knees, offering to service me as I had been sitting on the leather Chelsea sofa in the upstairs lounge alone.
He was sweet with no bite. A shame because that’s what I craved in a sub, but I wasn’t going to turn down a blowjob by a cute sub with a service kink just because I was flawed and expected every sub to become the one.
I growl, teeth clenched through my release.
My hand that has been gripping Jake’s hair loosens as I come back down from my orgasm while he licks up every drop of me, then shoves his face into the thick thatch of trimmed dark hair and inhales as he comes down from his own high.
Once finished, he crawls out and sits with his legs to one side on the fluffy yellow cushion at my feet.
He has issues with his hips that restrict him from sitting in a hero's pose, so a minor adjustment to make him comfortable was necessary.
“You are, as always, amazing at that. Thank you,” I praise as I brush a thumb over his bottom lip. He blushes; the dark pink flows down his neck and beneath the dress shirt he’s wearing.
At over 6 feet, Jake wasn’t like the other subs that I had before.
He’s the tallest for one, but also, he is the most silent sub I have ever met.
As charming as his submissiveness is in and out of his kink lifestyle, it was something that I knew would be detrimental to our arrangement, eventually.
I want someone to spar with. A mouthy boy with some spunk, someone fearless but could also obey my command.
I stroke Jake’s cheek as I check my emails; he sits running a small blue ribbon through his hands to keep himself occupied.
What at first I thought was a nervous trait turned out to be another sub request, as it helps close off his mind.
I have no issues with this, which delighted him.
I can tell that it had been a firm no from other Doms who held their subs to certain high standards.
Well, they could shove their high standards if they couldn’t even meet a sub’s basic needs for play.
“Sir?” I hear Jake ask ever so quietly. Okay, so the timid silence was grating a little already, but if I was going to continue being a Dom, I had to realise that what I was looking for clearly wasn’t readily available to me.
I had to stop being judgmental, and maybe my expectations wouldn’t be so restrictive.
Jake is beautiful, kind, and never asks for anymore than the arrangement of service once a week.
I don’t know what he does the rest of the week; we meet at my office and then part ways.
We both like it and it suits our needs well.
“Yes, Jake?”
“Sir, I think I was wrong earlier. Sorry.” He is still looking down, his long lashes spread across his tanned, freckled face.
“What do you mean?” I stop stroking his cheek to tip his chin up so he can look me in the eye.
“I, well…” he trails off. God, spit it out, just tell me you know I am emotionally unavailable and you no longer want to suck my cock. I refuse to ask again what he means; he will just have to see the look I’m now giving him and tell me.
“I think that even though I agreed to another week before I blew you, I don’t think I want that. I’m sorry, sir.”
Colour me shocked. He was done with me before I was with him. I really sucked as a Dom. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone back to the club. Instead, I should have given up the kink lifestyle and settled down here, alone and with only my fist for a deserved sex toy. I smile sadly down at him.
“It’s okay, Jake. I think I knew this was coming. I hope you don’t think I coerced you into that blowjob? I would never take advantage of someone like that. I thought it was consensual.”
He shakes his head rapidly, which makes his soft hair bounce around his face.
”No, sir, I really wanted to still service you. Like, really, really. I don’t have any issues with your um cock at all…” he trails off again, realising his admission. His eyes wide, he clamps his mouth shut.
“Just me, that’s the issue then?” I tease, even though it stings.
I was the wrong one, again, for a sub. I can never satisfy them or keep them long enough.
Where I was amazing at hooking them up with Arnie who tutored some and spanked the others, when it came to myself?
Well, it was like I couldn’t help but sabotage myself.
Every. Single. Time. Maybe it was time to re-evaluate what I really wanted from the club and my lifestyle. Something clearly wasn’t working.
“No need to sugarcoat it, Jake. I haven’t been right for you, have I?” I encourage him to tell me; the boy could use some talking skills.
“Well, not exactly. I mean, I love acts of service, as you probably guessed. I thought I was okay just meeting you here and servicing you, but I think I want…more? Yeah, I want a Dom to take my silence as permission and just take over my entire existence. To exist only as theirs and theirs only. Like an object? Yeah. Sorry to have wasted your time.”
His confession is definitely a conversation he should have spoken about at our original agreement meeting, but he’s young, clearly inexperienced with the D/s dynamic enough that he felt he couldn’t voice his true wants and desires yet. I’m just glad it was after four sessions together and no more.
“It sounds like I am not the one for you then, Jake. Can I offer you some advice before you go?” He nods, looking up at me like I still hung the moon.
“Tell your Dom what you want immediately when you do your agreement. Don’t settle; you’re too kind for that. Any Dom worth his weight will shower you with what you deserve. Just use your voice when you need to,” I wink.
He stands, adjusting his work suit and placing the cushion back in the small drawer by my desk.
“I will, sir, thank you. I really am sorry it didn’t work out. And if it’s okay to give some advice back?” I nod. We are now just two men in a room, kinks gone, agreement dissolved.
“Take your own advice,” he says with a sad smile. I smile back as I push away from the desk. We shake hands, agreeing to still say hello in the club. No hard feelings. With that, he leaves, and I’m once again alone.
Since we always scheduled these sessions at the end of the day, I switch off my desk lamp, gather my leather satchel and coat, and head home to my quiet, empty home. At least there was whisky there. And Tchaikovsky.