Shy Guys Make Good Boys Pt. 01

"Yes?" Mistress Sonya...

"Would you like to go on a date with me?"

I shuddered. I could really use a Severin right about now. Except... The ending of that fucking book was shit. I hated that book. I swallowed, lifting my eyes to her, wondering at the surreal pins and needles sensation that crawled up my arms. "Yes, please."

She leaned forward, her smile growing, and that's when she hammered the nails in the coffin. "Good boy." Her voice was a purr of pure sin.

I flushed with a kind of painfully aroused warmth, so much of it that it made me a little bit afraid of where this might go. Because I had a feeling that once it started, I wasn't going to touch the brakes and the truth was that I had fantasies, but didn't quite know enough to say where I'd stop if she was the one who started. My desires... Let's just say that sometimes I would get done writing these days, after having been so inspired by her, and I'd swallow in fear at those writings that I didn't share with people, the ones with male submission.

Of course, it had to get worse, too, when my mind decided we were going to be a little suicidal, as well. I opened my mouth and all I could think of was that I had to talk about something else for a thought, when I was feeling a little wild. "Do you think they'd be disappointed if they knew Kara Rhys was a guy who leaned to the S side of things?"

Sonya froze and then she glanced at my phone where I'd sat it after she'd caught me writing. Her smile widened thoughtfully. "Perhaps Clotho and I should have a few words together. You're right, by the way, to doubt that she would win. Ryan, would you like to come to the bookstore with me, if you aren't doing anything?"

You should say no to that. "Yes, please." Oh God, you weren't thinking of what Kara Rhys writes or of what you just admitted to, were you?

"Come on. Let's talk about how a date might go between us while I watch after one of my kittens."

Um. Do you know what you're doing?

"Okay."

"Good boy."

I definitely didn't know what I was doing. I did feel a little like I could wag a tail, though, if I had one.

--------

Sonya

Hear me out.

.... Hang on, I'll think of a defense. Just as soon as I get past how freaking cute he was when he got my coffee. His dark hair was tousled again. It was tousled again. That evidence of his nervous habit combined with whatever he was doing when I first saw him? Oh, my God, and now it was only better when I had a rather strong suspicion of what he was doing after what he'd revealed. Because that was another thing. It was that same look he'd had when he'd been playing the piano, that same look that made me wonder what such a good boy would be getting up to in his free time, what world he might be lost in.

Of course, once I realized that I had no idea exactly how good of a boy he was, I couldn't help but be all the more interested.

Still, though, calling him one out loud was unfair, okay? It was unfair of me. But oh, my God, he really was. He gave me this adorable pause and glance when he realized I was already back and sitting at his table and when he'd come back, it'd been just as goddamned cute. He didn't hand my coffee to me, either. He sat it carefully on the table and his eyes had darted up to me, in one of those cues that were truly, obviously submissive, the one where a guy is trying to please you. It was one of those moments and vibes I'd learned to pick up on really well in my professional Domme forays.

Those godawful thoughts had gotten their hold again, with the mental response of, Yes, you're very good and you need a cute collar to go with how good you are. And in my head, I was thinking of perfect collars for him. It couldn't be something too plain, no, not when he had just that perfect amount of playfulness dancing in his eyes. It had to be a pretty collar, but with just the right amount of leather badass appearance.

Bad Sonya. Very bad Sonya. He is not your Doberman.

... Oh, but don't you want to think of him in a leash and a muzzle?

Damn it, no, stop that. Even while I berated myself, I had a mental image of making him wear a neoprene puppy hood, red and black in color, and of how his eyes would get wide in humiliation. Of course, he'd need a cock cage too, while he was learning to focus on pleasing me instead of thinking of his own pleasure.

I tried like hell to get back in control of all those thoughts, when I was far too endeared to him. Bad boy, this isn't good for your health.

Because, well, I had a decision to make and it wasn't helping that those last words of his made my mind kick into happy overdrive. Kara Rhys, the romance and BDSM female author who wrote exclusively male domination and female submission. And apparently was the most entertaining lie I'd ever discovered in my life.

It was just too perfect, all of it. I'd read some of his stuff, too, when Courtney and I had been going through top BDSM authors together, on one of our porn sprees.

I sifted through the memories, thinking while I watched Ryan walk beside me in the bookstore. Millie waved when she saw me and I nodded to let her keep looking all she liked, when I needed to figure out what to do with the guy at my side, trying like hell to keep some of my own desires in check, to keep my control. I'd genuinely just been trying to ask him on a date.

"So, Kara Rhys?"... Probably not the topic I should have kept pursuing.

He'd been looking through some of the shelves, toying with a necklace he wore, and he paused at my question, blushing furiously. "Y-yeah."

I smiled when his eyes had both that shy nervousness, but also that coy mischief again. "I'm impressed. Some of that isn't light stuff."

"Christ, you read it, too."

That made me laugh and then I held my hands up. "Only a little bit. And zero judgment. If I was reading it then, well, I'm a pervert too." I winked and his flush deepened. Male Doms and female submissives, indeed. By his own admission, he didn't even bat for either of those teams, if you feel what I mean. "This is definitely an invasive question, so 'fuck off, Sonya' is a viable response, by the way, but is that what you were thinking of when you were playing the piano at Hall's?"

He flushed, but his grin was wicked and I couldn't keep from a rush of joy at the thought. "It's my social anxiety secret," he finally replied. God, he was blood red, but it was like he couldn't help but chase that anxiety thrill, either.

You aren't feeling pure things yourself, love. Right. Too far. Damn it, I was the controlled one. I hated the thought of my emotions ruling me when all my life I'd been told that females were the more emotional of the species. It made me rebel them when I had that thought again, that it might make me lesser than a Dom in some way. I changed the topic into safer territories. "Everyone needs one of those. Along with running their hand through their hair." He paused in the act of doing just that, then shifted on his feet instead, stopping the action.

You want to know something else that was wildly getting to me about him? This was a guy who was a data scientist for a pharmaceuticals company. I wasn't too sure on how much he made working for Nathan and I didn't really care because that wasn't my point. The thing is, I knew it was logically probable that he made more than I did and here's why that got to me.

See, he was wearing blue jeans, tennis shoes, a loose Cowboy Bebop t-shirt, and a Star Wars pendant.

It was the kind of thing to make me smile curiously with the thought that this was a guy who did not fully live on a place called Earth. No, no, see, this was a guy who was smashing the social rules like Harley Quinn with a freaking hammer and he had zero idea that he was doing so. And that? That was a breath of fresh freaking air from the people who normally attended an event like Hall's Christmas party.

And he wrote BDSM romance as a side hobby. Why not? It made me smile. I opened my mouth to try to bring up literally any other topic that would be safer waters than the one I'd initially chosen. There was no one else to blame for that first part, but I intended to get back to just dating talk.

And then Millie happened again. It was already purely an accident that I ended up on a date with Millie that day. She was feeling antsy and she used me to make her world feel steady, so it was one of those light relationships where we both knew it was for sex therapy. That morning I'd made her wear cat ears and a butt plug tail, so that she could crawl at my knees while I held her leash, flogged her, and made her eat me out before she was allowed to cum from the flogger.

She was right as rain by the time we reached the book store, but she had a strange form of aftercare that she preferred. Namely, she had to ask permission for things until she found her way back to reality and away from her subspace. She was holding a book when she came back to me and I knew she was mostly back to normal when she gave me this wicked grin with a wink. "Mistress, may I?"

Out of the corner of my eye, Ryan turned still where he watched, his eyes immediately flicking to the ground, and heat flooded through me, obliterating every last one of those intentions to get back to safer conversation. "Yes, you may. Now stop being ridiculous and go." But I ruffled her hair so that she laughed before she found her way away from me. Ryan jumped when I turned back to him and touched his shoulder.

"Do they always call you that?"

His eyes were wide and it made me smile, feeling wicked with the slight amount of breathlessness he had. "Yes. Once we've both established that we want them to." He shifted again and I bit my lip. God, I liked him and there are some silent cues that a girl would have to be blind to miss. "Do you want to call me that? It's okay by me either way if you want that kind of date or just to go to a movie."

It was like one last ditch pathetic effort when the sexual attraction there was a blatant cry against it. You want to know how I am sure I wasn't crazy in thinking that? Because Ryan was quiet at first, but then, even with the amount of shyness he obviously had, his eyes lowered to my boots. He swallowed, and then, "Yes, please, I want to call you that."

There was definitely a nervousness in that answer, definitely something that made me smile with the thoughts of him having that thundering heart sensation that came with deciding to accept an offer you really wanted, the kind that also kind of freaked you out. I couldn't keep from flirting a little bit. "You don't sound overly sure." I smiled, trying to keep my touch on his shoulder to something publicly acceptable when all I really wanted to do was play with him right fucking there. He was so warm and I was having way too much thrill. Don't endear a Dominatrix's heart like that, bad boy. God, I really wanted to keep him.

Shut up, horny Sonya. You're still trying to get to know him better.

"Why don't you try saying it and see if you even like it?"

My heart was going crazy in that wicked fun way. His eyes flicked to mine and he shifted back, but that only gave me thoughts that were all the worse. See, here's the thing about the shy ones, the submissive and sensitive types. There's a lot of Dommes who start out and still have this strange mindset of waiting for a guy to approach them. I think the confusion comes from thoughts of a professional Dominatrix, in the sense that someone usually does approach them to hire them, right?

Yeah, well, rule number one about when you're flirting with those shy and submissive types with those kinds of thoughts in mind is that they're, just to reiterate it, shy and bloody submissive. They're not going to do the approaching and expecting them to has always felt like shy person abuse to me.

Still, though, you have to walk that line. You have to be careful. Don't be a bully or an asshole. You don't want to cross over into that bullshit, so you have to open a door, you have to leave it open, and you have to give them an excuse to go through it. That's another thing. If they can, in some way, blame themselves for having desire? They will.

But, still, they have to go through it.

I gave him my most playful stare, lifting an eyebrow and tilting my head. His eyes went back to my boots and he went through the door. "Yes, please, Mistress."

And then he made a low sound that would always stay with me, one of those sounds that made me smile with the thought of, Sweet. I might have quit the professional thing, but I can still read some things. "Good boy. Hold my hand."

He didn't even think of it in that moment. He just gently clasped my hand in his and it was only after the fact that he looked down and stared at where he held to me, so that I smiled. That's right. Nice to be free of the anxiety, huh? It really was, too. That had been something I did like about submitting. You could just obey someone and feel good about it without having ten stress fueled, precursor thoughts on whether or not it was what would please them. "Ryan?"

"Y-yeah?"

"Let's message each other for it. If you change your mind, you can let me know and that's okay. We'll talk before we even decide when the date is, alright?"

He looked back down and nodded. "Yes, Mistress."

That answer made me pretty damn sure I'd lost the battle in trying to keep this vanilla.

"For now..." I grinned. "Do me a favor. Don't tell anyone who Kara Rhys is. Believe it or not, I know a few people into your stuff and it's... Oh my God, this is the best thing ever."

His return smile was shy in a very mischievous way and I laughed with a victory of teasing a good boy out of his anxiety for a moment. "It is kind of fun, playing pretend all the time. Heheh. And I get paid for it."

Even then, even after I eventually said goodbye to him that day, though, I thought about how none of that went as planned, but hey, maybe with the distance of messaging about it, he would be less shy and I could do some damage control. You know, keep it light, that kind of thing. Just because we'd both outed ourselves as perverts didn't mean that the relationship had to be centered around that. There's all kinds of people who indulge and then go back to an everyday relationship. I used to be a professional Domme, sure, but this was my first real approach to a male S type that wasn't a transaction. I wasn't entirely sure how this would go, but I had the hopes that maybe there could be some backtracking involved.

Want to take a guess at how that plan turned out? I'll give you a hint. Mick Jagger couldn't have been in a band with a better bloody name.

--------

Ryan

Evidently, if you suppress a lot of desires for a long time, tease them with small amounts of release like writing kinks that are gender reversed, and then have them confront you all at once with a single invitation, it makes you suicidal. That's all I could come up with.

It had all gone to hell when she gave me that command to hold her hand. And I'd done it. I'd done it without even thinking too much about it. And here's why that's amazing. Do you know that sensation of excitement that you get when you go to hold someone's hand for the first time, that feeling of butterflies fluttering through your stomach when you look at a girl's hand and the moment feels perfect? See, that's my favorite way to describe that moment in writing.

Because I don't know that moment. Oh, I know all about the words and descriptors for it, but do you know what it feels like for me? It's the worst level of "holy hell" anxiety. Seriously, it's horrible. What if I'm reading those signs wrong? What if I make it awkward? What if I'm not supposed to? It makes it worse that my mind literally never shuts up and is pretty imaginative, so it can go through about a hundred "what if" possibilities and then the moment is over and, well, it's always disappointing then.

But she told me to hold her hand. And I just did it. You never realized how loud that anxiety could be until you were given a moment where it finally wasn't there. She told me to do it, I obeyed, and it felt right. It made me happy with the thought that I'd done what would please her.

It went from there.

Every conversation with Sonya only buried my coffin all the deeper. It was kind of amazing, if I looked at it from an outside perspective. See, Sonya had this quality of being open, soothing, and inviting.

She didn't rush her invitation to go on a date with her, she didn't pressure. No, none of that. The only person I had to blame was myself.

It started with the first conversation, too, the first one. She asked me how I was, asked me how I felt about telling her I'd like her to show me more about domination and submission. She was polite and perfect, a kind goddess. God, she would be. It would have been so much easier if she had scared me enough to make me run, too easy.

And then she asked me how I wanted to go about our date. What I mean is, it sounds like you have interests in my domination side and I obviously do. Would you prefer that to have a prominence in dating right out of the gate? Some people do. I mean it genuinely as an open ended question. Any answer would be fine.

I thought she shouldn't ask me that. And it turned out I was right. You want to know my answer?

I would like whatever would please you.

Which was an answer in itself, goddammit. She teased me playfully for it. But of course, when you're such a good boy.

And that. Every time she gave me those two words made me feel all the more ensnared, even while it made me feel a little messed up. I didn't want her to stop at those two words. Hell, I didn't want her to make it easy to earn those two words in some ways. I felt like maybe it would feel all the better if she made it difficult for me to obey her, if it was something a little more intensive than being told to hold her hand.

The second time was another conversation a few days later and that was another thing. She carefully kept our messages spaced apart and calm and she carefully gave me time to consider, to think of these answers in case I wanted to add anything or tell her anything else I could think of. Wise of her, really. I was one of those people who would have an argument and then think of nine other points after the fact when it didn't matter. Sonya made it clear that she did still think it mattered after the fact.

You've shown interest in my life. May I ask what sort of fantasies your own interests revolve around? You told me more about how you started writing, for instance. For me, I'll be honest, I'm not playful with guys. It's a little unfair actually, when I'm softer on the females who come to me for their submission needs. I'm not a sadist, but I'm not... nearly so kind to male submissives.

That made me shudder, but then all of this made me shiver. She brought up quickly how versed I was in some of these ideas, which made me smile when I considered how many nights I had spent reading erotica when watching what I liked outright made me feel too uncomfortable. And of course, she already knew I wrote these things. She'd been shocked to learn that I had never experienced the sensation of submission, when she thought I wrote it so well, something that made me pleased. I confessed how, in the end, my reading so much of it in my insecurity was what made me go down the route of being an erotica and romance author, after having daydreamed. Combine it with the poeticism I had locked inside of my head, along with just the right amount of self shame and, well, it truly went perfectly together.

But, she also noted, you do sometimes seem, ah, innocently versed, we'll say, when talking outright. Shy, is what I'm trying to say. Would you be willing to tell me how some of those shy fantasies go?