A daydream of her

[Bl****]

The radio of the store a background noise to the thoughts running through my head. My hands moved automatically, stock checking and, answering customers, nodding along to small talk. But my mind was elsewhere.

It had been happening more often lately. This quiet, persistent ache for something more. Not just the usual chase, the fleeting excitement of control. That had been fun, once. But lately, the idea of leading, of always being the one in charge, had started to feel... hollow.

I imagined her. The kind of woman who didn’t flinch under pressure, who didn’t need to prove herself because she just was. Confident, steady, kind in a way that made people respect her without needing to demand it. She wouldn’t fall for the usual tricks, wouldn’t be won over with charm alone. No, she’d see through me. And she’d know.

She’d know that beneath it all, beneath the bravado and the control, I wanted to give myself to her. Not in public, not in the small ways people might expect but in the dark. Behind closed doors, where no one else could see.

Because that’s where she wouldn’t be kind.

In bed, she wouldn’t just take control She’d own me. She’d make me beg, make me earn every touch, every moment of pleasure. There’d be no softness, no gentle reassurance. Just her hand gripping my hair, her voice cold, telling me exactly what I was to her in those moments.

The thought sent a shiver through me, heat curling low in my stomach. The idea of handing over that control not as weakness, but as choice. Giving it to someone who deserved it, who I wanted to have it. Someone who would push me to my limits and then pull me back, just to do it all over again.

I exhaled sharply, gripping the edge of the counter to ground myself. The store came back into focus, the weight of the day settling over me again.

[MonaR]

Good read!