I promise you'll enjoy what happens next

Most people take a gag as permission to be loud. Either because they take it as a challenge "try to silence me, I'll show you" or because they think it's going to muffle noise so they're free to be noisy. They'll be unintelligible of course but they will make all types of pretty noises.

Expectation is an incredibly powerful tool you can make use of. People like patterns, people like predictability, they like knowing what's going to happen. So make rules and follow them, make patterns and keep to them, be predictable and your sub will feel safe and comfortable with you, they will trust you more if they know what you're going to do and how you're going to react.

Looking for a cuntgirl to take with Me to the top of a hill to cloudgaze with, I walk up and grab you, dragging you along behind Me without a word.

If they're a little raise them better than your parents raised you, if they're a pet be an owner worthy of their loyalty, if they're a slave reward their obedience and forgive their indiscretion, no version of any of dynamic should involve punishment or discipline

Don’t Shoot the Dog! : The New Art of Teaching and Training by Karen Pryor

Which you can download for free here

CW: cnc that's a bit weird about the c part, emotional sadism, rape kink metacommentary

"It's not exactly rape if you're enjoying it." I point out.

"Just because I'm asking for it doesn't mean I would enjoy it."

Not the answer I was expecting. The usual response I get is one of mildly frustrated pushback, pouty faces, muttered accusations of I-know-but-you're-supposed-to-play-along. I have a reputation, and that reputation invites a crowd I don't care for.

See, people say 'rape' and mean 'sex we pretend I am not into', because they've got hangups about being into sex. Of course we all have hangups - I just don't want to indulge those particular ones. It always feels like I'm expected to read someone's mind and then play dumb about what I see there.

She continues. "I know myself. Know I'd hate it in the moment. Just thinking about it makes my stomach seize up. Talking about it, too. And yet I want it. Simple as that."

"You can want it. Doesn't mean you can consent to it."

It's bait. But I want to know her own justification, in her own words.

"People get tattoos, run ultramarathons until their bodies give out, take molly and struggle their way through suicide Tuesday. This isn't any different. I get to make my future self suffer if I want to."

I nod, pretend to think for a moment. Then I speak.

"Six months. One month. And then three months."

A moment to build anticipation before I explain.

"Six months for me to work my way into your life. Calls. Hangouts. Heart-to-hearts. One month for me to strike, if I feel like it then. No restrictions beyond that. Maybe I'll get you at midnight on the first day. Maybe I'll wait a bit. Maybe I'll tell you I changed my mind, that I just want to be friends, and then I slip something in your drink two days before the deadline."

Words are so fucking limited a medium. I desperately want to describe the face she makes at that. I settle for committing it to memory. Outwardly, I just keep talking.

"And then, three months where I won't do anything. Won't allow anything. Time for you to think about what happened. I suggest spending some of it far away from me."

I watch her think. Stare hard enough at the cave wall, and maybe you'll figure out what's casting the shadows. I'm not acting the way she expected. But I'm not acting the way she feared, either.

Eventually, she decides that she understands me. Her voice is softer than it was a moment ago. Reverent.

"...you're giving me time. To make sure this isn't a whim. To process everything. You... obviously you're okay with me being hurt. But you don't want me to be hurt more than necessary."

Something inside of me shifts.

I don't quite know how it shows itself. I've tried to understand, though - have asked a few people to describe how I look like this. Sudden and terrifying, one got stuck on. A more poetically inclined soul said it was like I swapped out the soul behind my eyes.

"Do I?"

How would she describe it, I wonder?

"Maybe I just want to build trust before I violate it. Maybe I want to watch you, month after month, as you grow ever more comfortable around me. Maybe I want to see you try and forget what I'm going to do to you. Maybe I just want time to make sure it hurts as much as possible."

She doesn't flinch, but I watch her pupils dilate, her hands clench. There's a gap between being composed and being calm, and I fight the urge to stick a knife in there and pry it all the way open. I do twist it, just a bit.

"Or maybe I just want to make it seem like I care. Play the part of the ethical sadist because that's a type of person you need to be real. You're a good person. If you think I am too, if you think everything I did was with your well-being in mind, then I'm safe. You won't do a thing to hurt me. Won't think I deserve that."

There's a moment, uncertain and delicious, where I wonder if she'll turn and run, but no one ever does. I soften my expression in a flash, keep quiet but smile in a way that implies a thousand reassurances. Did you have fun? Are you okay? The scary dom act really got to you, didn't it? I hope it wasn't too much?

She relaxes a bit, and that's when I go in for the kill.

"God. You really are so eager to assume the best of someone willing to rape you."

I savor the way she shivers at that. Whatever my other reasons, everything I said, I said so I could see this.