"OK," replied Charles. "We fucking did what?"
I grew serious, and fixed his gaze with mine. "How many girls have you fucked before me?"
He looked steadily back. "Three."
"Was it ever like that?"
"Because. . . I couldn't. . ." He didn't want to continue, because he clearly didn't know how to put it right. He hadn't thought as philosophically about the matter as I had, to that point at least. I think it's easier for a sub, sometimes; we don't instinctively pull back from our own cravings quite as quickly as dominants do. . . .
For more about the "real" me, read the Companion! You'll find the rest of this post (and it's hot, I promise!) there.