Page 15 of Kneel with the King
All I can muster is a broken, “Thanks.”
Because inside, I’m torn between enjoying the idea of letting go and hating the fact that it’s King who’s in charge.
The King Always Wins
Asher
We’re instructed notto remove the collars, so as King and I put our shoes back on and exit the workshop, it feels like we’ve been in a movie about someone else’s life. I feel… lightheaded and altogether unglued. Excusing myself from Jacques and Walter, who’ve struck up a conversation, I decide to break away to find a bathroom.
I need a few minutes away from King.
He doesn’t say anything to me as I excuse myself, and he doesn’t need to.
I suppose that’s why he’s a Dominant.
I shouldn’t be thinking about it. Of all people, I know that once a seed has been planted, it doesn’t stop growing until you kill it off.
And this one’s already curling around the edges of everything.
Thoughts I shouldn’t be having. Questions I don’t have the guts to ask.
Once inside the spa-like bathroom, I lean on the sink and look at my reflection.
I don’t look any different. The collar doesn’t change my appearance at all. And yet… something inside feels like it’sshifted. Something that’s still raw, like an exposed wire, yet it’s pulling me toward whatever this collar means with a sickening clarity.
I splash some cold water on my face, tamping the new feelings down.
Go figure he’d be a Dominant. The way he carries himself—the voice, the stillness, the way he watches without needing to speak—it makes more sense now.
Dominance and submission are topics I’ve avoided for most of my life. They just never interested me, and I suppose it’s because I’ve always assumed I’m the dominant type. Control the pace. Take the lead. Be strong. Be certain. But if I’m being honest… I’ve never minded letting someone else take over. In fact, it’s usually easier.
Let my exes set the pace. Let them call the shots. Let them decide how far, how fast, when.
I told myself that was respect, that I was being a good guy. Being decent.
But maybe it wasn’t.
Maybe I liked it that way.
The thought hits harder than I want it to.
I’m jealous of King’s quiet dominance, if I’m being honest. That confidence. That ease. That control.
I’d give anything for a quarter of it.
What kind of Dominant is he?
Calm? Caring? Thoughtful? Or the kind with rope under the bed and rules you follow without question? Does he dominate women? Men? Both? He mentioned his partner for this retreat had male pronouns, so… is he gay? Bi?
The questions come uninvited.
Unwanted.
I mean, I’m straight—obviously. Always have been. Those few times I kissed a guy while drunk? Those don’t count.
Even if I still remember it. Still dream about it. Still wake up hard and hating myself.
Who doesn’t experiment, though?
