The CEO's submissive

Diana

If there were therapy for people addicted to their boss, I’d be first in line. It’s not like I was just attracted to Ethan Alencar. No. I was completely obsessed. The kind of woman who wakes up in the middle of the night, sweating, after dreaming she was on her knees in the conference room, begging… well, no need to spell it out, right?

I’d been working for him for three years. Three years of torture, every single day. Three years of cold stares that anyone else would call plain rudeness. But to me? Straight-up mental porn.

Yeah, it was pathetic. I knew that. But my brain was a dirty little traitor. The second he walked in front of me with that perfect tie, trimmed beard, and one big hand holding a simple cup of coffee... boom. My sanity melted faster than butter in the sun.

Not a day went by without me screwing something up at work just because Ethan existed. Wrong files, emails sent to the wrong people... The last one? I accidentally called him "Mr. Delicious" in the middle of a meeting. Yep. Mr. Delicious. Out loud. In front of everyone.

And the worst part? He didn’t even flinch. Just gave me that look like he knew he could destroy me—and I’d thank him with a smile.

Now tell me: how was I supposed to live a normal life like this?

“You’re so fucked, you know that?” Carol threw that truth bomb at me while pouring herself a cup of coffee in the office kitchen. She was my friend and coworker, but we were basically from different planets.

Carol was free. Wild. She lived life like it was always Friday night. Me? I was the emotionally constipated virgin, stuck in a boss-crush, feeding off crumbs of attention.

“Not fucked, not saved,” I replied, giving a half-hearted laugh. “I’m… surviving.”

Carol looked at me like I was a dying species.

“You need to live, girl!” she said, lowering her voice like she was about to share the universe’s biggest secret. “Actually... I found a place that’s totally your vibe.”

I raised an eyebrow, suspicious. Something good coming from Carol was like saying vodka is a detox juice.

“What place?”

She leaned in like a gossiping spy.

“A domination house.”

I nearly spit my coffee in her face.

“You’re messing with me.”

“I’m dead serious, princess of repression!” Carol laughed. “It’s a place where you can explore all those unresolved desires. Safely. With professionals. No more obsessing over your unattainable boss.”

I went silent, my brain already spinning like a roulette wheel. Domination house… Real dominant men… Forbidden touches… Whispered orders in my ear…

Shit. I shouldn’t be getting turned on just thinking about it. But guess what?

Carol slid her phone over to me and showed me the place’s website. Just the layout made me sweat. Discreet photos, low lighting, people in masks, blindfolded women, bodies pressed together in indecent positions..

“Listen to this description,” she read: ‘Surrender without restraint. Rediscover who you are through submission.’

My throat went dry. Every word felt like it was written for me.

In my dirtiest dreams, Ethan was always that man. The one who told me to kneel. Who tied my wrists. Who made me forget my own damn name. I’d wake up drenched, frustrated, starving for something I never had the courage to go after.

And now, suddenly, it was right there. Within reach.

“I don’t know, Carol…” I muttered, even though I was already picturing myself walking through that door.

“Yes, you do. You’re just scared of being happy,” she shot back with a grin.

I stared at her phone screen like it was some cursed bait and I was the world’s dumbest fish.

A domination house. A place where, for the first time in my life, I could stop pretending I wasn’t made of flesh, of desire, of need.

Damn. I wanted it.

I wanted it bad.

But along with the arousal came an old, familiar friend: fear.

Fear of being judged. Of exposing myself. Of losing control—something I technically never had, but faked like a pro.

“What if I go and freak out?” I whispered. “What if I’m not capable?”

Carol looked at me like I’d just asked if the sky was blue.

“Capable of what, Diana? Wanting to feel pleasure? Admitting you have desires? Please.”

I crossed my arms, biting my lip. My whole serious-secretary persona was turning into soggy paper about to fall apart.

The truth—the raw, ugly truth—was that I’d never really been in a serious relationship. I’d never let anyone truly get close. And deep down, maybe I was dying for someone to take me, guide me, make me lose my mind without guilt.

It wasn’t about sex. It was about surrender. About, for once, trusting someone to catch me when I fell.

And suddenly, the weight of all that almost crushed me.

I took a deep breath, closed my eyes.

I could keep living in my little bubble of eternal frustration, dreaming about a boss who probably didn’t even know my middle name.

Or... I could take the risk. Give myself a damn chance.

When I opened my eyes, I looked at Carol with a kind of courage I didn’t even know I had.

“Send me the address.”

The grin she gave me was so wicked, I almost regretted it.

“Oh, girl… you have no idea what’s waiting for you.”

Neither did I. But one thing was for sure: tonight was going to change everything.

And Ethan Alencar… oh, Ethan… he was still my number one fantasy. But maybe after tonight, I’d stop just dreaming about him.

Or maybe... I’d start dreaming even dirtier.