Shy Guys Make Good Boys Pt. 01

Author's Note: This should be interesting.

Content warning: Femdom and romance. I hope you have fun and enjoy.

Ryan

I was misbehaving when I met the goddess.

It happened at a Christmas party and normally, I hated events. I didn't really, er, people. I was there for my job, though, and I'd figured out a way to misbehave at these kinds of things, my social coping mechanism, if you will.

It's not my fault. For this specific Christmas party, my boss, Nathan Faulkenberry, decided he just wanted me to be quiet in general and the setup was honestly just handed to me. "We'll keep dad from bothering you at all, Ryan." That's what he said because it was his dad who was the nightmare Faulkenberry and the CEO of the pharmaceutical company where I worked as a lead data scientist. This particular time, Nathan looked bloody pleased with himself. "It's the best idea I've had for one of these damned things yet." And that's when he'd pointed at the piano.

He'd laughed when my face lit up. "Okay, that is brilliant." Piano! Why hadn't I thought of that for one of these holiday parties?

"I would like you to know that you are the first person of the night to appreciate my genius out loud. It is pretty good, though, huh?"

"Your dad won't even talk to me if I'm playing!"

The senior Nathan was the horrible one. He was a nightmare for someone like me to be in the room with. The younger Nathan grinned playfully with our conspiracy. "He won't. He thinks you play like a goddamned Christmas angel. He'll let you keep playing quietly to yourself until he leaves and then you're safe."

"Safe." I laughed at the look on Nathan's face, when I had a feeling he was having just as much fun with this as I was. The truth was I was good with numbers, extraordinarily so. That's not a self bragging thing, really. It's just that I love playing with them so damned much. They're so much fun, all the time. My favorites were back in Calculus when Trig was involved in integral problems. Every time was a puzzle and the best part about it was that all you had to do was change one number, a single number, and the entire puzzle changed. It was like buying a whole new Rubik's cube! One number and it was an entire different puzzle and it was free and I got to be graded on this?

Best things ever. Numbers were my thing. It took me ages to realize I was a rare breed of person to feel the way I did about them and the other truth about that was I could probably have a less stressful job if I wanted one. But I'd met Nathan in college and when he'd gotten signed on as a director at the company where his dad was CEO, he'd demanded I come with him. I'd been kind of bemused about it, to be honest. People sometimes wonder about parts of my life, like my job interview. Nathan had been the one to come over to my apartment at the time. "You're wearing this suit."

He'd shoved me to my bathroom to make me dress and slapped my hand when I'd gone to get a tie, choosing one for me so that I briefly wondered if I wasn't a pet number puppy of some kind. It'd been terrifying when I got to that interview, too.

Anyway, he kept me in an office and made me play with numbers all damn day, while keeping his dad away from me at events where I absolutely had to be seen at, like Hall's Christmas party. "Wait. I can play whatever? Do I need to say hi to anyone?"

Nathan was already turned around. "Anything you like, kid, and no. Not a one."

I sat at the piano, biting my lip while I thought about it. It made me glance around me for a moment, left by myself, and I took in my surroundings. It was a selective guest list, one that was filled with senators and hosted by Dr. Hall and his wife at their mansion. A massive Christmas tree stood in the corner of the room, one of several, and I was wearing a suit and tie. I was behaving, off to myself. See what I mean?

It was handed to me.

Because my social anxiety secret involved how I didn't really want to keep behaving. And I believe it was Charles Manson who said the mind was endless. Obviously, that's someone insane enough to believe, you know?

I smiled and let my mind wander to my other job, my best kept secret, placing my hands to the keys, my pulse getting louder in my ears with a kind of twisted excitement when I thought of that other job. See, for my first job, I played with numbers for Nathan's company. But for my second job, I played with words... for my BDSM romance novels.

Don't ask me how. It wasn't an intentional thing when it started and sometimes it still messed with me. See, it gets weirder. I didn't write any of my own proclivities, although I certainly had them. I wrote strictly male Dom and female sub romances, using a writing style where I switched back and forth between two main characters. Honestly? I'd started writing one day to try to get some of my own fantasies out of my head, but my fantasies of male submission made me... uncomfortable. So I'd switched from that to using a female pen name and to writing strictly two perspectives that weren't my own.

It was fascinating to do it. It worked, you see, somehow. Even if I didn't know female pleasure as well as a male's - for obvious reasons - I could focus on the emotion of submission, as I craved to have it. I hadn't even gotten to submit in the ways I fantasized about, but I knew enough just from the fantasies alone, for instance. I knew what it was like to crave to feel leather tight around my throat while someone else held the leash. I knew what it was like to want to be on my knees, looking up at someone who looked down on me with dominance. I knew what it was like to be afraid of those desires, too, when I wanted so badly to chase them, but didn't really feel all that comfortable about doing so. If we're all honest with ourselves, guys aren't... really supposed to want that part of it. Guys are supposed to be the top in life and in bed, or at least that's what it's always felt like to me. So I could focus on that area for my submissive perspectives, even if they were female.

And the tops? Oh, those were the most fun. I didn't have a dominant bone in my body, but I could focus on what it was like to be a visual creature, when most males were visual.

I made it all romantic, though, because romance made people happy. And... Well, I liked making people happy.

But the best part was the places I'd discovered I liked to write. It was when I was surrounded by people. Things like brainstorming when I was playing the piano, for instance, or writing on a phone app when I was at the coffee shop. I really liked the coffee shop. People came and went and I quietly wrote lurid, filthy fetishes on my phone while no one knew. It felt kind of like my own mischievous form of silent exhibitionism, when I was way too shy to do the real thing.

For the moment, I was on a circus themed story and my thoughts turned to it. I finished the song I was on, forgetting which one, and went on to Mozart, briefly considering, Mozart? Really? You hate Mozart. And then I threw the thought aside and went back to scene possibilities. I liked the thought of orgasm denial for the females in my BDSM stories, mainly because I liked the thought of being denied in my own fantasies.

It made me smile a little wickedly, thinking of being in a cock cage, of a Mistress standing over me while I was blindfolded, of her stroking my hair. Good boy. I think you'll find this will help you focus on my pleasure, instead of yours. She'd stroke my balls, though, gentle caresses that would make my cock strain uncomfortably against the cage to show me how it worked and felt.

Of course, writing my own stories was much like transposing music. I smiled down at the piano keys, feeling that mischief again when I thought about it, switching the song when Mozart was just so boring. I switched to a transposition of Soundgarden for piano instead, considering the switch up in my story's perspectives.

The guy would stand over the girl and I had to consider the visual perspective in order to relate to it. As a male, when I considered kneeling, it was merely with my back straight and my face turned upward to beg. But if I imagined a female kneeling... The male top would emphasize having her thrust her tits out for his viewing pleasure, but from her perspective, I couldn't be that crude. Her perspective was where the romance would gentle how rough some of the sex would be from his perspective. Of course, the guy parts would need their own version of romance. If I just focused on his visual part, then he'd come across as an asshole, so he had to have heart.

I always struggled with describing the heart of a Dom and had to get creative, had to think of how to bridge the gap between his thinking of her tits thrust out as visually pleasing to his lovingly stroking her hair. I imagined having control over someone would be intrinsically part of it. As a people pleaser, I might not have understood, fully, the dominance side, but I could empathize. It was something of a superpower.

Yeah, this Dom specifically would definitely be about the control and he'd love on his little submissive when she showed him trust. That thought made me smile. Good girl. Show me your pussy. That seemed right. Hot, too, with that humiliation feel. Submission struck me as more visual with a female submissive sometimes, as a general rule. The logic, for me, came from the fact that I enjoyed watching pain play videos but only when they involved a female submissive, which messed with me in some ways. See, I liked the thought of being flogged, for instance, but, well, I had a conflict of interest. I know it will sound strange and maybe it's just a "me" type of problem, but I couldn't visually get into videos where a male was being flogged. It just didn't strike me as graceful, if that makes sense.

At the same time, though... I definitely wasn't identifying with the top in the video when I watched those. So, for writing... Spread your pussy wider so that I can strap it, sweetheart.

That made me smile and I glanced around me at the different people on Hall's guest list, in suit and ties all of them. How upstanding. I bit my lip, working to hide a smile, when that made me feel dirtier.

I had different fantasies for myself. Transposing was sometimes an imperfect art, though, and sometimes I worried that I didn't do a good enough job to make my readers happy. Some of the stories were free, but some of them were ones I sold and I worried about not being worth it. Hell, even with the free ones, I worried about not being worth their time.

I paused at the end of the song, lost in my playful form of exhibitionism. Bad boy. That made me grin while I considered what song should come next.

That's when she spoke beside me. Venus. The goddess. She found me when I was being bad.

"That was beautiful," she said softly.

Her voice. Hell, it was forward and downright sensual. I looked up at her and for a moment, my world seemed to stand still when everything felt like it was as it should be.

She was small, but she stood over me, and her head was raised in confidence. She wore this long sleeved, high necked black dress and it seemed perfectly whole and right that she did. Her hair was this ornately styled frame of dark curls, pulled back in pins so that it looked like a crown. I think her stature only made everything all the worse, when such a small size didn't seem to fit on someone who stood out so much, on someone who had that much presence. Because, oh, she did. For me, she dominated that room without so much as batting an eye, although even if she had to, those gorgeous doe eyelashes would have been flawless as the rest of her when she did. The swell of her breasts was something that made me swallow, although they were enough to taunt any man.

Of course, it truly got me when I looked down and saw the knee high, high heeled boots she wore. Game over. Her dress ended somewhere above her knees and gave the perfect visual of those boots when my gaze went to where it usually went to. Down.

I had spent my life trying to ignore my subservient behaviors, but she... Oh, she defeated me just by standing in front of me. All those years of trying fell away.

You see, I didn't want to be without those small submissive behaviors when they came with the visual of those boots of hers. I only managed to raise my eyes to look up at her when I answered from the fear of daring to be rude to her. "Thank you."

I didn't quite manage to control my voice enough and it made me flush. It was one moment where I lost control of that desire that I had worked my entire life to keep hidden, even in my pen name and writing, where I buried that side of me that made me uncomfortable and denied it every desire. Just a moment, but it was enough that it came through my voice to make me burn in humiliation, when it was so... damned servile.

She paused over me, tilting her head, and her expression was unreadable save for a small quirk of her lips in a secret little smile that made my stomach knot up. Oh, man, if I could take that one moment back?

I never fucking would.

--------

Sonya

A friend of mine named Courtney got into these conversations with me where we had what we called Dominatrix philosophy arguments. In one of these, we argued about whether or not compatibly kinky people could find each other. Sort of like a "gaydar", but for kink. We knew it was a thing, you see, because kinky radar wasn't a new concept, but we argued over how exact it could be. Would a submissively inclined person find a dominating person to fulfill their relationship needs if those needs burned hot enough? We had both been in our fair share of D/s relationships, both as Dommes, and we talked through those experiences endlessly together.

See, I was on the side of the fence that thought the answer was sometimes. Some people kept desires buried forever without ever truly indulging them was my way of thinking. Courtney was on the side of things that thought a submissive man would generally find a dominating female in some capacity. Her side was that he craved guidance and in some way he would find a way to get that, even if it was a small way like having a wife who planned social events, for instance. At the end of all of these conversations, I would sometimes wonder how much of me was a masochist, when Courtney was both a kink friendly psychologist and someone with professional Dominatrix experience. I had the latter, but zero interest in the former.

But it was Ryan Garner who would end up changing my mind on that topic. Because my entire relationship with him was nothing but a series of failures and my attempts at control.

See, here's what made it all the worse. Courtney was a sadist, but she was also secretly the romantic between the two of us. Me? I didn't allow myself to indulge in those romantic thoughts. I had an eternal fear that being a female meant I was somehow more emotional, by natural order, than a man and I hated the thought of that making me a lesser Dominant in some way, of emotion dictating my actions instead of control.

I kept my heart and those romantic notions in a stranglehold. I kept religious control and Ryan Garner managed to thwart every attempt of my keeping control of things, evenfrom the very beginning.

Because... Oh, man. The way his voice turned so very submissive with that "thank you". It made me stop and smile, considering him. It also led my thoughts into oh, so wayward, filthy places. You're a good boy, aren't you?

I had been drawn to him even before that though, with the way he had been so lost in his thoughts and music. Whatever he was thinking of seemed to infect his fingers with a form of devious magic because the music he made was something that would make Lucifer himself envious. That wasn't even getting started in the way he looked, wasn't accounting for that adorable baby face of his that looked like the Way of the Gun actor, Ryan Phillippe. Except he was cleaner in appearance than that. He had this dark hair that was in as standard of a short haircut as possible, and that was tousled slightly where he had recently run his hand through his hair.

Oh, and that slight figure of his? Mmmm. Oh, this is just unfair, you. You even look like a good boy.

I nodded to the piano, trying to make my voice soothing. He was obviously an introvert and I didn't want to make him uncomfortable when I was already encroaching. It was just that, well, I was rather enjoying the way his eyes were lowered to my boots. Once upon a time, I had started my kink forays in submitting, although I was always a brat when I did submit. I had gone exclusively to dominating when I'd realized how many guys craved to have a safe Dominatrix to bow to and how many of them felt strange about wishing for that. It pissed me off that they felt the stigma they did and couldn't find someone safe to explore with. I could do it.

So I did.

But, well, he brought out the Dominatrix in my heart just with the way he lowered his gaze. "Do you mind if I-?"

He lifted his eyes and he looked startled, but it warmed my heart with how he also looked pleased. "Not at all. Do you play?"

I smiled, thinking that those years of piano lessons were finally coming useful for the first time in my life when I wanted to connect with him in some way. In my experience, a connection made someone more comfortable, enough so that even the shyest person could talk. "Not much, but I did learn a few." I winked and started, as luck would have it, with another Soundgarden song.

His eyes lit up with the opening notes and he placed his hands lower on the keys before he started a counter melody to the same song, a variation of the version I knew. It made me grin with how the two versions somehow twined together. "This one is one of my favorites," he said softly.

Good boy. I smiled at him in a lighter kind of approval. In every day occurrences, I didn't like being a condescending bitch, but when I was around shyer guys who clearly didn't like the lead in anything, I'd discovered that they often enjoyed that kind of approval. It made them feel more secure, which was understandable when social anxiety was a close cry to social submissiveness. Incidentally, this wasn't a feature exclusive to any gender identity, as far as I could tell.

"A good choice. What other favorites do you have?"

Of course... My wayward thoughts were not helping with my efforts of not being a condescending bitch, goddammit. Christ, you are way too cute for your own good. And don't give me that sweetheart look, you flirt.

The sane part of my brain was ready to try to pull me back in line with just as much snark. You know he's probably not into the things you are, right? It was true, but damn it, a girl could dream.

"Besides everything else by Soundgarden?" He paused, then grinned with a spark of mischief that made me want to narrow my eyes in my own form of flirting. "Everything by Alice in Chains."

Jesus God, have I mentioned that smile? He was so. freaking. cute. I loved that dark hair of his, too, and I had always had a weakness for a guy with a cute baby face. His was all the better with how he was clean shaven and that was another thing. Whenever I took male submissives for a longer term relationship, I enjoyed rules like making them shave for me. The external logic of things like that was so I could humiliate them. The internal logic that I kept just to me? It always struck me as such bullshit that guys weren't allowed to experience the heavenly sensation that was shaving their legs and putting on something silky. I gave them a reason to do it, which was, "Mistress told me to". Hey, I didn't mind being the fucking bad guy that gave a guy that excuse.