Submissive Journal Prompts Novels & Stories

“The undersigned agrees to enter a consensual dominant/submissive relationship with Damien Cross, with all terms subject to negotiation and safeword boundaries.” I froze. My mouth opened. Closed. “What… is this some kind of joke?” “I don’t joke, Isabella,” he said, voice dipping an octave. “I observed you. The way you respond to control. The way you wait for permission. You follow commands like they thrill you. You’re not just competent. You’re submissive.” His words struck a chord in me—dark, shameful, and undeniably true. “You’ve been watching me?” I whispered. “I watch everything I want to own.”

"You can't win, slut. I'm going to ask you some questions and you will not be able to do anything but answer them fully and honestly. You can't lie or even try to misdirect me." Janice groaned and started rubbing on her clit trying to get relief. "No touching yourself slut." Her hand moved away from her hot button and she finally broke. Oh God! Greg, please fuck me. I need it! I can't stand it anymore shove your cock in me. Please shove it in my mouth, my pussy, my ass I don't care where, just fuck me!" "Why should I?" "What? What do you mean why should you?" Why should I grace you with my cock? You don't belong to me. Remember you're the big bad Mistress. How many submissives, besides my mo

I take a deep bath, pick up a flare red lace lingerie that pushes up my breasts close to my neck. Settled, I drop my phone when no reply comes in and I pick up my Kindle then pick my phone back up. I need to figure this out. I need to know how this dynamic works in the real world. I spend the next two hours on Reddit and different BDSM forums. Q: How to make your Dom Master happy? A: Be submissive. Dress sexy. Be flexible. Flexible? That’s concerning. Even if I were slim, I don't think I’d be flexible. I can’t even dance.

"What?" That made me freeze. He talked! Joshua Elijah Fuentaverde just talked to me! "Can I... Ahm..." I really don't know what to say. Why the hell am I even talking to him in the first place? He stared at me. "Can you do what?" I bowed down my head and closed my eyes tightly before lifting my head again and looking straight into his eyes. "Just—" "Can I kiss you?"

“I want a new one on the spot.” I furrowed my brows. “What do you want me to write?” He’s challenging me, so fine… let’s take the challenge! “What’s your genre?” he asked, now sitting on the leather chair opposite mine. “Contemporary romance, fantasy romance,” I answered, Joaquin giving me a single nod. “Alright. Then write something romantic,” he replied, giving more details. “A domineering man, softening to a sweet woman. Go.” I held the pen on my hand as I stared on the blank paper. I felt cold sweat on my back as I grew conscious of the fact that Joaquin, the famous author, watching me as he got a bottle of whiskey from the mini fridge beside his table.

This setting looked familiar but she was too shy, too ashamed, too aroused to say it out loud. She did not know that being watched could be this exhilarating and frustrating. She wanted him touch her but he looked like he was not going to do that any moment. "Is this some sort of punishment?" She was getting more and more frustrated. "Maybe. This is what I like. I want submission, fully. I want to be in charge. Are you getting me?" "Yes. I get what..." "I need to explain it to you. But not today. Maybe I'll just show you instead of telling you. Now, would you like me to touch you?" He stood from the chair and walked towards her, and stood in between her legs.

Josh stopped at the entrance, uncertain. Three subs knelt on pillows at different corners of the booths. Another one sat across a Sybian saddle, legs restrained by cuffs. His head was thrown back in ecstasy, his eyes tightly shut. Sweat glinted off his chest and dripped down his arms, as his whole body vibrated. “Come in pet,” she said, stepping between her kneeling submissive. “And watch your step. This place is a little crowded.” She went over to the kneeling sub and bent over him, whispering into his ear. Josh watched, mesmerized.

Lira's journal. I pulled it out, shaking. The cover was written with my mother's beautiful, flowing script. "My Beloved Moonbeam," it began. "If you are reading these lines, then the time has come. The bond has found you, and with it, the struggles that I knew. They will teach you that an Omega in heat must yield. They will say that your body is owned by no one but them. They will say that your power is in nothing more than your submission. They lie."

Her voice was thick with emotion. “Not just any journal,” he clarified, his gaze intent. “It’s filled with prompts. Things that made me think of you. Places we’ve been, conversations we’ve had, little moments I remember. And pages for you to fill in your own thoughts, your own dreams.” He opened it to a random page. “See? ‘Describe the feeling of standing under the summer rain after a long, hot day.’ Or, ‘If you could have dinner with any historical figure, who would it be and why?’ Just things to make you smile.

"This is all hypothetical, of course. They don't know if this is what they want. What do you do?" "Novice sub?" "Yes. Close to your age." "Start small. Affirmations. Little tasks." "Like what?" "Take selfies of herself and keep her favorite ones so she can look at them when she's having a hard day." "OK, and if they asked you to be their Dom, what would you say?" "No. I'm with someone." She leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. Picking at a piece of imaginary lint on her bright pink slacks, she hummed a response. Bunny checked her white poet's shirt for time to allow him to stew.