How He Discovered He Was Submissive Pt 6

Without pause I leaned forward, taking him into my mouth and sliding him completely down my throat. He cried out and his body shook as he fought to hold his release.

Part 5


I ignored the knock at my office door. I shouldn’t. I had ignored it for the last two days. It wasn’t going to go away.

As I feared, it came again a few moments later.

“Come in.” I hoped the struggle to keep my voice steady was less obvious than it felt.

Alexander’s face was a mask of concern as he stepped in and settled into the chair across from me without waiting for an invitation.

His quiet words dripped with worry. “White.”

I nodded once.

“What’s going on Grey?”

I didn’t respond.

“Something has clearly been very wrong the past few days. I haven’t seen you at all and Jake says he doesn’t have any answers for me.”

I sighed deeply as I fought to retain emotional control. Twenty years I’d spent learning to regulate nearly every bodily response, every emotion, every reaction. Yet, in this moment, it was all I could do not to break down in tears.

He continued hesitantly. “I’ve been with you for five months now, and while I know our relationship is contractual, I want you to know that…at least from my side, it feels like we’ve built a friendship as well.”

I nodded once. It was all I could manage.

“Whatever is wrong, you don’t have to deal with it alone you know. You give everything you have to the club, to me, to your employees, but it doesn’t seem like you ever allow yourself to take anything in return. Not even friendship.”

I lost my internal battle and tears slipped out. He was right of course.

His voice softened further as he leaned forward across my desk. “Even if I’m wrong and what feels like a friendship to me is actually just one sided, maybe you should consider accepting what I’m offering and let me support you through whatever is going on.”

I stood, crossing to the small bar to pour two glasses of whiskey, offering one to him without a word.

I felt like I was taking advantage of the friendship he’d extended given that I’d finally admitted to myself that I’d fallen madly in love with him, but he was right. I had no one. I was alone, and I was in no position to turn him down even if I wanted to. I didn’t want to. He was all I wanted.

I sank heavily back into my chair, vaguely noticing how broken and detached my voice sounded when I finally attempted to form words. “My mom died.”

His eyes grew sorrowful and caring, somehow shifting from their normal pale, translucent blue to a deep stormy grey as he sat his untouched glass on the desk and made his way to crouch in front of me. He gathered me into his arms, holding me together in a way that seemed as if he knew I could no longer manage it on my own.

I broke down. He was so strong, so warm, so perfect as I curled into his chest; clutching at him like a man drowning as my tears fell onto the soft fabric that covered the skin I knew so well.

He held me tight, one hand continuously tracing along my back for a long while even after I’d finally stilled. He held me until he was sure I wouldn’t unravel into dust without the support of his embrace. When he finally shifted his body away from mine, he took my hand. I followed without question as he led me into the living room and gently sat me down on one end of the couch. I’d have followed him anywhere.

“I’ll be right back.” His calm, soft voice lingered against my soul as I watch him leave the room.

I barely managed a single nod. I didn’t care where he was going as long as he was coming back.

He returned several minutes later carrying a tray with mugs and a pot of tea which he sat on the end table at the opposite end of the sofa before crawling into the corner seat with his legs spread, one foot resting on the cushions, knee against the back of the couch, the other leg hanging off the side. He offered a soft smile as he gestured with his chin. I moved quickly, settling between his legs with my back against his chest. It was the only place I wanted to be. His arms surrounded me once more as his cheek came to rest against my hair. I closed my eyes and let myself disappear into his warmth. It hurt less in his arms.

He held me for more than an hour before he finally spoke. “Tell me about your mom.”

I snuggled back into his embrace, fighting the wave of grief that threatened to overwhelm me as I started.

“I’m from the Midwest. So, when I say my family is a religious cliché, most people understand.”

He kissed my temple, letting his lips linger. “Mmhmm.” Their silkiness and the way his warm breath pooled against my skin threatened to overwhelm me.

“We moved here when I was young, so I’ve mostly known life in California. My siblings are all older, and just the few years that separate us seem to be enough that that Midwest got to them before we moved. They all have lives that are exactly what they are supposed to be. They are all married with kids and respectable careers and houses in the suburbs.”

I turned my head slightly, letting my forehead rest against his cheek as I relaxed into the bend of his neck.

“When I came out as gay, that was sort of the end of my relationship with my dad and siblings. I was 18, and lucky I suppose that they didn’t just kick me out, but it was clear that I wasn’t really welcome any longer. Mom is…was…different.”

His arms tightened as I corrected my phrasing and I let myself disappear into his strength for a moment before continuing.

“She took me to lunch and told me that I should always be myself and that she’d always love me. A couple of months later when I left for college, she made the hour drive with me to make sure I was settled in. She came up to visit the next week, and the next. The entire four years I was there, she drove an hour each way every Thursday to have lunch with me.”

I felt both tears and a smile materialize at the memories.

“The first year I went home for Thanksgiving and Christmas, but it was uncomfortable, and I haven’t been back since. Mom brought me gifts every year, and we had our weekly lunch on the Friday after Thanksgiving so she could spend it with the rest of the family, but she always brought me leftovers.”

He squeezed me softly and kissed my forehead, letting his lips and his breath and his strength take hold and remain on my skin. He didn’t have anything to say. There really wasn’t anything to say.

“From the outside I did everything I was supposed to do. I got my degree and had a good career. But, while I was in school, I also explored my sexuality. I ended up with a boyfriend who was a dom. I didn’t know that when we got together, and he wasn’t a very good one. He wasn’t abusive or anything, not really, but over the course of a few months of exploration I came to recognize that he was more of an asshole that owned leather and toys than an actual dom, and our relationship didn’t last very long after I came to understand that. I realized that while we weren’t a good match, BDSM was something I was interested in. I spent a couple of years after that diving heavily into the scene, met some good folks, had some good experiences and the rest just sort of fell into place.”

I focused on the way my breath lingered against the skin of his throat and jaw as I spoke. “Most people hide that they’re into the lifestyle. I did as well for a long time, but when I decided to give up my career and open the club, it didn’t feel like something I could hide any longer. Not from her. When I told her I understood if she didn’t love me anymore, she just stood up, hugged me right there in the middle of the café, and told me she would love me forever.”

I’d never told anyone about my life before the club. No one knew about my previous career, or my family. No one really knew anything about me. They knew my persona, but not me. Until that moment, I don’t think I’d realized that. Once I started talking, it just all fell out. The way he held me made me feel safe, cared for, loved. I felt as if I could tell him anything and it would be ok.

“She came to the club’s opening night.” I couldn’t help but chuckle as I played the memory in my head. “Even doing what I do I’ve never seen someone look more uncomfortable or out of place in my life, and she managed to tolerate what was going on for all of 20 minutes. But, when I walked her out, she took my hands in hers and told me she’d never seen me look as confident as I had when I’d addressed the crowd, never seen me seem as comfortable in my own skin as I was in my leathers. She told me she was proud of me, and that she loved me. She hugged me for an eternity right there in the parking lot.”

I felt tears once again dampen his skin as I hid from the world against it. My voice cracked as I continued. “She accepted me unconditionally. She is…she was…the reason I know what love feels like.”

“Oh Grey.” He wrapped his arms and legs around me tightly, burying his face in my hair as I lost myself in the scent of his skin.”

I let myself go, crying in the comfort of his arms for a long time before pulling myself together enough to shift, turning further into his chest as I continued.

“You know we’ve continued to have lunch every Thursday for my entire adult life. I’ve done most of the driving the past few years, but we’ve rarely missed one. We went to one of her favorite little café’s just last week. Now I have to go to her funeral. No one will want me there. But I have to go. I have to.”

He pulled his head back, and I mourned the loss of his touch for a moment until his touch returned as he wiped my wet cheeks with the back of a knuckle. “Let me come with you.”

I shook my head and started to protest. “Alex, I can’t…”

He cut me off. “Let me come with you Grey.”

His blue eyes held mine and I knew I needed him with me. I needed him.

From the outside I’m sure it appeared as if I was lost in my own thoughts while I moved around my room. In truth, I was somewhere far deeper; disconnected from everything, including the ability to think or feel. I was so far gone that I nearly jumped when I zipped my case and turned to find Alex leaning against the door frame watching me.

“You’re sure you can take the time off from work? You don’t have …”

He cut me off. “Work is just fine. I’m coming with you.”

I simply nodded as I made my way past him and out to the car. I was grateful.

Though my family only lived an hour away, it was a nearly three-hour drive to the funeral and cemetery where my parents had their plots. The drive was hazy; something I somehow managed largely on autopilot. I stood quietly to the side as Alex checked us into the hotel, and while he likely made sure I showered and ate, I can’t be positive that that’s what happened. The world was a blur, and I was nothing but a specter moving through it.

Alex was up before me the next morning; pulling on the jacket of a somber black suit by the time I untangled myself from the sheets to mindlessly make my way to the shower as he stepped out to find us some breakfast. Thirty minutes later when he returned to the room carrying coffee and take out containers, he stopped short, his eyebrows raising while a broad smile slowly teased its way across his lips as he stared while I finished adjusting my tie.

“I mean….” He stumbled to find whatever words had suddenly eluded him. “I never would have guessed that you owned anything other than sweats and leathers. I mean… good lord. Is there anything you don’t look good in?”

The warmth that spread though me pulled me back from the edge for a brief moment as I let his words of praise wrap around me and hold me together. I always made sure I had one elegant mainstream suit in my wardrobe though I really don’t know why. Perhaps it was simply a throw back to my youth as it had been a requirement for church. It’s not like I attended a lot of weddings or funerals and on the rare occasions I made appearances at such events, I always wore something closer to my club attire than anything else. Pieces selected from my normal wardrobe, strategically chosen to appear edgy but not overly unusual. Those that invited me expected nothing else. I’d never worn this suit. A fashionable slim cut number in jet black with a simple green shirt so pale it could be mistaken for white and a basic black silk tie. As I dressed, I found myself regretting the fact that I couldn’t recall my mother ever seeing me dressed this way as an adult, and it would have made her smile.

By the time the warmth of his words had cooled around me, and I found myself back in the hotel room, he was standing close, holding out a cardboard cup with a sad smile. I took it gratefully and he brushed his lips across my cheek quickly.

“Sorry. Hardly the time.”

I smiled sorrowfully into his pale blue eyes. “Don’t be. I appreciate it.”

We ate quickly at the small table in what passed for the room’s kitchen area before silently making our way to the car and enduring the short drive to the church. It felt endless. The anxiety. The dread. The overwhelming sense of loss. How was I supposed to do this at all, let alone as an unwelcome outcast.

I watched as strangers made their way through the parking lot to the church doors. Solemn, subdued older couples in dark suits and long floral dresses. Younger families dressed largely the same, carrying and dragging children with small ties and frilly hair bows. Every one of them wore the deliberately structured expression and body language that comes from years of modesty, religion, and conformity. Things that were foreign to me now.

I jumped as Alex’s hand slipped onto my knee. Even lost in the fog of knowing I was an unwelcome outlier in this assembly of shared grief, my soul responded to his touch through the thin wool. I sighed deeply and gathered myself as I squeezed his hand briefly in thanks. Dressed this way, with my hair pulled tightly back and largely hidden at the nape of my neck, I felt naked. An imposter arriving to ruin any small measure of peace these people might find here today.

Alex’s fingertips brushed the small of my back while he fell in at my side as we made our way through the parking lot. We had intentionally arrived only minutes before the service was to begin. I wanted to fade into the crowd, slipping quietly into the back, but the chapel was full. The only remaining space was in the second row. A row reserved for family. I drew myself up, ignoring the way every eye in the room followed us as we walked down the isle. The soft whispers that fell in at our backs. The shock on my siblings’ faces. The way my father’s glare cut through me. I looked forward, only forward as we settled into the opening at the end of the row.

The service was long. Prayers and shared memories and hymns all blending together. Alex’s voice joined my own, deep and clear, each time the room stood to sing. A part of me noticed, surprised, that he never picked up the hymn book though he sang every word. I had intended to share my memories as others did; to let anyone who would listen know how kind and caring she had been, even to me. But as I sat there, half lost, half listening to others speak about her I came to realize that I’d already said those words to the only person in the room that mattered to me. She had been the only thing tying me to everyone else in attendance.

No one said a word to us as we made our way to the car.

The drive to the cemetery was short. The graveside service even shorter.

We stood to the side, removed from those I once called family. We stood in silent witness as they once again sang hymns and spoke prayers. We stood as friends took their leave. As family took their leave. We stood until only my father was left, seated on a folding chair under the frayed green temporary sun shelter. I hadn’t seen him in a decade. While he had never been a powerful or fearful figure in my youth, he had seemed somehow larger than life in many ways to a young boy. Such illusions had been shattered long ago. Still, I was astonished by how old he seemed. How small.

I made my way to the side of the casket, gently placing the small bundle of flowers I’d brought. Lily of the Valley. Her favorite. One small white bouquet, easily lost among the mountains of bright, bold roses and carnations. If she had been there, she would have seen them. She would have loved them.

As we reached the car Alex walked to the driver’s side and held out his hand. I raised an eyebrow in question.

His smile spoke volumns. “You still don’t trust me completely. After all this time?”

I couldn’t help but smile in return as I handed him the keys at the way he’d used my own words against me.

He took me to a small café we’d passed on our way into town, and I followed him inside without question. I would have followed him anywhere. It was late afternoon, earlier than the dinner rush and he spoke to the hostess in hushed tones before we were led to a quiet, intimate corner of the room where only moments later two whiskeys arrived.

He held up his glass without a word and I returned the gesture, grateful he was with me. Grateful for him. Two more drinks arrived quickly along with several appetizers, and I found myself wondering how he’d managed to arrange so much in the brief conversation he’d had when we arrived.

His blue eyes danced as he began speaking.

“I came out to my mom too. I was 17 and I’d wanted to for years, but never could find the right time, even though I didn’t really think it would be an issue. My family is pretty open.” His grin grew as he chuckled momentarily. “My parents were hippies when they met, and I don’t think they’ve really ever outgrown it completely.” He sipped his drink. “Anyway, I stood my ground in the kitchen as she chopped vegetables, which I suppose in hindsight could have been a mistake.” He laughed softly and I found myself swept up in the easy way he spoke. “I told her that I wanted to take another boy to the prom. It didn’t even affect the rhythm of her chopping. You know what she said?” I smiled softly and waited. “All she said was, well just because you can’t get anyone pregnant you still need to use a condom if you have sex after the dance.”

He dropped his head, shaking it in amusement before catching my shocked gaze.

He laughed harder at my expression.

He spoke for hours. Food and drinks came and went as he told stories that made us laugh out loud. Stories that pulled at my heart. Stories that he told simply as an excuse to keep speaking. I found myself clinging to his words like they were my salvation. Clinging to everything about him. To the way his shoulders hunched slightly toward me when his elbows propped on the table, his white shirt straining against the muscled form underneath, his jacket long ago relegated to the back of the chair. The way he picked at the food as he spoke and lightly sipped his drink. His fingers moved delicately and deliberately, his lips much the same. The way his smooth voice rolled over me like water, softening the pain I felt and replacing it with the warmth of sentimentality. The rest of the world vanished, if it had ever existed in the first place. He was my world.

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4 thoughts on “How He Discovered He Was Submissive Pt 6

  1. Rob says:

    This is one INCREDIBLE story! I followed with great attention! Thank You! I so wish there to be faint chance, that could be modeled after real people! So many honest lessons and styles that perfected for SO MANY to immulate!

  2. Bill says:

    I’m a complete basket case after reading this. I know the story has ended but I don’t want it to end. I know that Grey and Alex’s contract has ended as well, but I don’t want it to end. Somehow I want them to figure out a way to be together as partners and lovers if that is possible still enjoying the power exchange that brought them together…….somehow I hope they can love each other without retriction and restraint…….somehow…….what a poignant and beautiful tale, thanks to the author.

  3. Pen says:

    Grey and Alex connected more st Grey’s moms funeral. They are madly in love with each other. ❤️ 😍 💖 ❣️ 💕 💘 this story and how they are falling in love .

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