I let out a deep sigh as I pull the keys out of the ignition.
I look up at the pet facility I have visited many times before.
Ever since I was 18, I had been looking for a submissive to call my own. Regardless of the countless trips or miles I've traveled visiting facilities near and far, none of the submissives I have looked at, seemed right for me.
I wanted a girl who wanted to obey and wanted to be a good girl, but I also wanted a girl who could be a partner to me in life. Surprisingly, it is hard to find a submissive like that who also was in my age range.
I didn't mind girls older or younger, although it would be nice to have someone my age, but making a family together was a big thing for me. I didn't want to be childrenless and some subs weren't interest in sharing their dominant with little ones.
My fellow coworkers have submissives of their own, and I see how the perfect mix between being a submissive’s Master and friend created a happy a healthy bond, so why couldn't I find someone who wanted to share than?
I don't want to go inside. I don't want to be disappointed again.
I know if I never take risks though, I'll never find her though.
I open the car door with new hope, remembering my friends and their successful relationships.
The door rings when I open it, the bell hanging above me jangling softly. A young fellow dominant greets me at the door, anxious for the business I more than likely won't be giving them today, “Good afternoon! I'm Tracy. How can I help you today?” She asks politely.
“I’m looking for submissive between the age of 20-24”, I tell her and she nods telling me about how they have the largest selection and other useless information I already knew.
As we walk to the back, I can’t bring myself to look inside the small cages holding young children.
I know this is just the way our society is, but I can never get past seeing children in cages.
“The cages with green dots on the tags hold the girls who are in your desired age group. I’ll let you brows a little, so let me know if you need any help!” She says cheerfully and I nod in appreciation.
Once she leaves, I kneel down next to the cage closest to me and smile sadly at the frightened girl huddled up in the back. She doesn’t see my smile though because she is staring down at the floor.
She is shaking like a leaf and I sigh in frustration already loosing hope that I will find my submissive. “What’s your name?” I ask her, trying not to spook her.
Just as expected, she doesn’t answer me and I don’t bother to look at her tag and check her name. I want a submissive I can talk with, not just talk to.
Walking down the aisle, I see there is a girl sitting up against the bars. Her blue eyes stare up at me and I smile at her. She has very pretty eyes and I like that she can look me in the eye, most submissives can’t, which makes establishing a relationship hard.
As I get closer to her though, I see the scowl marring her face, causing me to pause in my excitement. I don’t give up all the way though. Maybe she just doesn’t expect me to be nice?
“What’s you name?” I ask gently kneeling next the her cage.
“Fuck you!” She screams at me.
I nod, standing up. Okay, maybe not.
I run a hand over my face in frustration. My hand finds the back of my neck and I drop my arms to my side.
I walk down the aisles for a while, only talking to a few submissives who are all very nice, but don’t have the spark I was looking for.
“Thanks for coming in,” the lady in the the front tells me as I walk out the door. I nod and wave heading towards my car. Pulling my keys from my pocket I unlock my car and slide in.
I groan in frustration resting my forehead on my steering wheel.
Another failed attempt to find my submissive.
My phone bings on the coffee table again and I glance over at it before putting down the slice of pizza in my hand.
Troy: I’m outside. Let me in
I sigh, heaving my sorry ass off the couch to open the door. Troy walks in with his submissive without permission and takes a seat on my couch.
Pulling his submissive onto his lap, he picks up the box of pizza I picked up for myself and begins to feed himself and his submissive.
I stand at the door and watch Troy carefully feed his submissive as he kisses her face and neck. He says something to her which I’m not listening to and she laughs before replying, making them both grin.
She smiles at him and slides off his lap taking the pizza with her. I wallow in my self pity, watching them interact for a little bit before dragging my feet over to my sofa and eating my pizza.
“What do you want?” I ask Troy over a slice of pepperoni.
“I want, you to stop throwing yourself a pity party every time you don’t find her,” Troy replies easily. His submissive gives him a death glare which he shrugs off. “What?“ he asks her teasingly.
She rolls her eyes playfully and snuggles into his side, “You will find her one day and you will be so glad you didn’t settle for anything less,” she comforts.
I nod in agreement and sigh knowing she is right.
Those 'pet shops' and training facilities are nothing compared to the luxuries I will provide her with, along with all of my love and affection.
I sigh contently, putting down my pizza just thinking about all the ways I will pamper and treat her.
As my day off comes to its end, I pull on my police uniform. Fixing my collar and pulling on my boots, I head out towards my cop car.
Pulling out of the driveway, I crank up the heat. It’s 1:00 am and my several hours of patrol just started.
After driving around for a little while, something cracks through the radio. I turn up my radio, so I can hear it better.
“Rylan, we have a 644 and request your immediate presence on 5th Nord Ave and Banks. Do you copy?” dispatch says.
Immediately, adrenaline flows through me as I flip on the sirens and lights and speed through town.
"I copy. I'm heading over now."
644 is used to describe a someone being held hostage at gun point.
I speed through town, running red lights trying to get to where dispatch needs me.
“Shots have been fired. I repeat shots have been fired. Suspect has hit hostage. It appears a non-lethal wound. Dispatch we need back up,” our sheriff says over the radio.
“Sending back up now, Sir,” dispatch replies.
I fly over the road reaching 90 miles per hour. “Hostage has lost consciousness,” someone reports.
“Suspect has been disarmed forcefully,” the sheriffs voice says over the radio as I pull up with the ambulance.
I fly out of the car, ready to help cuff the struggling felon. The Sergeant redirects me towards a small figure on the ground.
I squint into the darkness before realizing it’s a girl. She must be the hostage.
We make eye contact for a second and then, she tries to get up and run.