Submissive Me

Copyright and Introduction

All the characters, places, ideas or events mentioned in this book are purely fiction and does not relate to any living or dead. All  the story settings and other elements are purely my imagination and fictional. The s****l activities written in this book are purely consent.

This book contains graphic scenes such as adult content described in details, violence, gory details and many such elements so proceed with warning. 

Stealing of my work/any idea will serve you severe punishment as plagiarism is a crime. 

All rights reserved ;  Jetaime_jolie_Visage

September 2020

The first thing to say is that I am not a pervert. Well, no more than anyone else. I am Zandia Avangrid and I am an Omega, If you came to my apartment you would be more struck by the piles of washing up in the sink than my dungeon—not least because the cost of living in the city is such that

I’m lucky to have been able to find somewhere with a living room that I could rent alone

within my budget. Let’s just say a dungeon wasn’t really an option.

So, to address some of those pesky stereotypes, I am neither a doormat nor a

simpleton. I don’t yearn to spend my day baking while someone hunts and gathers for

me, which is some what apart of my reason why I choose to put off finding my mate, I know most she-wolf yearns to find her mate once she comes of age but I am no typical she-wolf, I yearn more for my freedom and my wolf Demi yearns for the same,  and I dont keep the home fires burning either which is just as well as apart from a decent Sunday roast I’m a bit of a crap cook. I also don’t look like Maggie Gyllenhaal in Secretary. Alas. I just happen to be, at points when the urge takes me and I have someone I trust to play with, a submissive. Not that you’d know that if you met me. It’s just one facet of my personality, one of the plethora of character elements that make me, well, me—

coexisting with my love of strawberries, my compulsion to continue arguing stubbornly

even when I know I’m wrong, and my tendency to heap scorn on 99 percent of television

programs and yet become obsessive about the other 1 percent to a level that frightens

even me. 

I work as a Personal assistant for a man I've never once met, which make my job so much easier seeing that all the ladies and a few males drool at the mention of his name, my opportunity to meet the famous Ares Carter is coming up next week Monday, a day I'm not  so looking forward to, I've heard  a lot about him, him being the most feared Alpha in this region, I've heard stories of how ruthless he is, so meeting him, hell my intestines are playing jump rope inside my stomach. I love my job, and—not that it should really need to be said—being submissive doesn’t impact on my work. Frankly, if it did I’d get lumbered with tea-making and picture stories about elementary school book

weeks, which really is a fate worse than death but let's face it my job can be a banter. It’s

a dog-eat-dog world, and you need to give as good as you get. I do.

I consider myself a feminist. I’m certainly independent. Capable. In control. To some

that might seem incongruous with the choices I make sexually, the things that get me off.

For a while it seemed jarring to me. In fact sometimes it still does, but I’ve come to the

conclusion that there are more important things to worry about. I’m a grown woman of

usually sound mind. If I want to relinquish my personal control to someone I trust so that

they can lead us somewhere that proves thrilling and hot for both of us, then as long as

I’m not doing it somewhere where I’m frightening small children or animals I think

that’s my right. I take responsibility for my actions and choices.

It has taken a while for me to get to this stage though. I would, if the word hadn’t

been appropriated by reality television and turned into something that sounds both

nausea-inducing and in need of a soft-rock video montage, go so far as to say it’s been a 

bit of a journey. It’s just what happened to me, how I discovered and

explored this side of myself, my experiences, my thoughts. Ask another sub their

thoughts and what being submissive means to them and you’ll get a whole other thing all together,

I hate to bust myths here, but there’s no deep-seated trauma in my past or anything missing in my

formative years that has exacerbated my love of filth now. I have no daddy issues, there

was no angst in my home life, and my childhood was—happily for me—a happy, loving, and simple one.