like my life to the point where my past is merely experience, not a sob story. "It's okay," I tell him. "Anyway, I had an aunt who took me in when I couldn’t be around my folks. Strict as fuck, and I didn’t know I missed her until she was gone."
He lifts a brow.
"Cancer when I was fourteen," I explain. "When I messed up, she disciplined me. Sometimes with a ruler, sometimes with a time-out—like I was some kindergartener. I hated it of course, and I'm hardly an advocate for that kind of punishment on children today, but… It wasn’t the punishment. It was how swiftly the bad was over. I fucked up, I got the ruler, she forgave me, hugged me, and that was that." I take a breath and stare at my feet. "I never had to fear that she'd leave me. She doled out her chastisement and enforced a shitload of rules, but she cared. She had my best interests at heart, and I miss that structure." I lift my gaze again and meet Master Rio's expression of understanding. "She was my rock until she passed. After that, I lost it. I quit on life. I drank, did drugs, pushed away the few who tried to help me, fucked to pay rent" —I ignore the way his jaw clenches— "stole to buy food and clothes…" I trail off with a pointed look.
He scrubs his hands down his face. "I haven't figured out how so many can know about Miranda, but no wonder you reacted the way you did." He sighs and lets his hands fall again. "You were just a child," he says quietly. "I wish I could've made things better for you."
He doesn’t get it.
"You did, though." I poke his chest. "I'd been on the streets on and off for two years when you cornered me in that nightclub, Rio. Master, Sir, whatever-the-fuck." I wave a hand and pretend I don’t see his mouth twist into a little smirk. "I don’t care how outta line you might think you were when you told me about caning brats who don’t obey you. I don't care ." I grit my teeth, so fucking frustrated. "You gotta understand what it did to me. You were just a meal ticket; I wanted a cab ride or food or a place to stay, and I was willing to spread my legs for it. Hell," I scoff as I think back, "you were hot as fuck. Spreading my legs would've been a bonus. But you didn’t react the way all other guys had done before you." I release a breath and try to calm down. "You were rock solid. You couldn’t be budged. You told me to take care of myself because there's only one of me." His eyes soften, and it causes the fight to drain out of me. "I remember every minute of that little encounter," I whisper. "Maybe it wasn’t very significant for you, but it fucking changed me. It woke me up."
Rio pulls me close again and hugs me tightly. He takes a breath, and I can sense him wanting to say something, but I'm not done. I gotta get this out so I can move on.
"Yes, what you said was the first I'd ever heard about BDSM," I mutter against his chest. "But that’s not why I looked into it. It wasn’t what you said. It was you—because of how you acted. Who you are." I tilt up my chin to look him in the eye. "I made every mistake in the book when I first got into the scene, but I knew I was on the right track. At first, it was just about structure. I wanted someone to rely on." But that was the kid in me who'd grown up in a shitty environment. Every child needs stability. "Then I learned more. I evolved and tried different things. I met new people and got lucky with a Dom who was willing to mentor me."
I smooth out the frown creasing his brow.
"This isn't some phase for me, Sir," I murmur. "Casual arrangements don’t satisfy me, either. My vanilla life, dreams, and goals aren't going anywhere, but when I submit, I do it fully—body, mind, soul. Even in my everyday life, I'd feel better with rules to follow and having a Master to please."
The glimpse I got when I first met Rio a decade ago—of what my future could hold—has changed drastically with each thing I've learned. But the nature of it has remained, and after coming
He lifts a brow.
"Cancer when I was fourteen," I explain. "When I messed up, she disciplined me. Sometimes with a ruler, sometimes with a time-out—like I was some kindergartener. I hated it of course, and I'm hardly an advocate for that kind of punishment on children today, but… It wasn’t the punishment. It was how swiftly the bad was over. I fucked up, I got the ruler, she forgave me, hugged me, and that was that." I take a breath and stare at my feet. "I never had to fear that she'd leave me. She doled out her chastisement and enforced a shitload of rules, but she cared. She had my best interests at heart, and I miss that structure." I lift my gaze again and meet Master Rio's expression of understanding. "She was my rock until she passed. After that, I lost it. I quit on life. I drank, did drugs, pushed away the few who tried to help me, fucked to pay rent" —I ignore the way his jaw clenches— "stole to buy food and clothes…" I trail off with a pointed look.
He scrubs his hands down his face. "I haven't figured out how so many can know about Miranda, but no wonder you reacted the way you did." He sighs and lets his hands fall again. "You were just a child," he says quietly. "I wish I could've made things better for you."
He doesn’t get it.
"You did, though." I poke his chest. "I'd been on the streets on and off for two years when you cornered me in that nightclub, Rio. Master, Sir, whatever-the-fuck." I wave a hand and pretend I don’t see his mouth twist into a little smirk. "I don’t care how outta line you might think you were when you told me about caning brats who don’t obey you. I don't care ." I grit my teeth, so fucking frustrated. "You gotta understand what it did to me. You were just a meal ticket; I wanted a cab ride or food or a place to stay, and I was willing to spread my legs for it. Hell," I scoff as I think back, "you were hot as fuck. Spreading my legs would've been a bonus. But you didn’t react the way all other guys had done before you." I release a breath and try to calm down. "You were rock solid. You couldn’t be budged. You told me to take care of myself because there's only one of me." His eyes soften, and it causes the fight to drain out of me. "I remember every minute of that little encounter," I whisper. "Maybe it wasn’t very significant for you, but it fucking changed me. It woke me up."
Rio pulls me close again and hugs me tightly. He takes a breath, and I can sense him wanting to say something, but I'm not done. I gotta get this out so I can move on.
"Yes, what you said was the first I'd ever heard about BDSM," I mutter against his chest. "But that’s not why I looked into it. It wasn’t what you said. It was you—because of how you acted. Who you are." I tilt up my chin to look him in the eye. "I made every mistake in the book when I first got into the scene, but I knew I was on the right track. At first, it was just about structure. I wanted someone to rely on." But that was the kid in me who'd grown up in a shitty environment. Every child needs stability. "Then I learned more. I evolved and tried different things. I met new people and got lucky with a Dom who was willing to mentor me."
I smooth out the frown creasing his brow.
"This isn't some phase for me, Sir," I murmur. "Casual arrangements don’t satisfy me, either. My vanilla life, dreams, and goals aren't going anywhere, but when I submit, I do it fully—body, mind, soul. Even in my everyday life, I'd feel better with rules to follow and having a Master to please."
The glimpse I got when I first met Rio a decade ago—of what my future could hold—has changed drastically with each thing I've learned. But the nature of it has remained, and after coming
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