AI art by me.

It was a dream.

It had to be a dream, or more of a nightmare, really.

She knelt, naked, and submissive between the two men. They watched her with great intent and focus. The kind of look only a man who had known the full surrender of a woman could pull off. They were so alike and yet so vastly different.

Dark, as she referred to him in her nightmarish dream, wore all black and was darker of complexion. It wasn’t true in real life but it did reflect his inner self. He was a Dom with more than one demon and she’d met most of them, endured them, embraced them, and him.

Light was in a dark suit but with a sparkling white shirt. It was crisply starched and his tie was perfect as was the shine on his shoes. He was smiling at her. He always smiled at her. She knew he could be dominant in his own way, but it was…in his own way. It was something she could teach him, right? He was already learning how to handle her submissive nature.

Dark wasn’t smiling but he wasn’t frowning. He was just…intense. She’d spent longer with him. He’d made her feel things she’d never thought she’d feel again and even more than that. Her darker parts called out to him, even now. Her nipples ached for the clamps he and she both loved to use when he fucked her into oblivion. Dark had taken all of her places and owned them.

Light…he would eventually take most of her but not all. She highly doubted that part. Did that truly matter when he was so thoughtful, so kind, so bend over backwards to please her kind of guy? She felt lighter with him like everything was possible.

Dark didn’t stop her from believing but he was more practical, more realistic, and knew her better than she was comfortable being known. He knew where her outs were and her excuses. He didn’t allow them. She wouldn’t be able to bend him too easily or at all sometimes.

It was the best of Doms, it was the worst of Doms, it was the age of enlightened and equal treatment where all was fair, it was the age of strict discipline and knowing her place even as she loved knowing it. It was the epoch of a softer, gentler future. It was the epoch of having her darkest needs fully met and sated.

If only she could do a Solomon and tear herself into two pieces. The light side go with Light and the dark side go with Dark, but that didn’t work. She’d tried and the migraines had only become worse. She wasn’t sleeping, she wasn’t eating, and though Dark knew of Light? Light had no idea Dark existed except as some form of a toxic ex-lover.

Only he hadn’t been toxic, she had. He also wasn’t that much of an ex either since she’d submitted to him three times since telling Light she loved him. It was Dark who’d known she wanted Light. It was Dark who had convinced her to finally tell Light of her love. Dark knew. Dark always knew and that frightened her more than she wanted to admit.

Light was…moldable. Light was much closer to her age and therefore a wiser choice, right? But Dark had a hold on her that she couldn’t deny. She’d tried to break it with him before and it hadn’t worked.

Gods, what was she going to do?

Slowly rising in her dream estate, she took a step towards one of them while turning her back on the other. Choice made. Consequences be damned.

Which way did she step? I don’t know…do you? This is the inner conflict that rages in many women and men as they decide between the easier, softer, and sometimes vanilla existence over the more difficult, harder, and very not vanilla side of things.

The thought that comes to mind is a slogan I’ve often seen on t-shirts, billboards, and posters: The Struggle is Real.

And for those who know me…was this a good idea to write? Probably not, but I did it anyway…choices…the struggle is real.