(Based off my own submission to my master, and his choosing of Me as his Submissive; please replace gender/sex as fits your own experience)
She chose Him, because he was Kind.
She sensed that in him, before she knew him. She felt safe with him, as she rarely did with other men. She couldn’t tell you why, but she allowed herself to be vulnerable with him. Laugh with him. Forgot herself, her “place” with him. Of course later he would put her in her place; but she had agreed to this, wanted this.
He chose her, because she possessed a Softness.
…but also an unbreakable core of strength, steel, diamond. He knew he could bend her, without breaking her. Break her, without destroying her. She would rebound- to Him, of course. Always back to Him. He knew this from the moment he first saw her.
She kept choosing him, over and over.
She couldn’t help it. His teasing glances. The silly way he dried his butt with his towel, like Donald Duck. His gentle presence in a room, yet one that told every other man, “Take care how you treat my possession.” His casual, demanding attitude that cockily knew he’d please her as much as she pleased him. And these were just the little things that kept her still.
He gave her every reason to stay, with a challenging whisper,
“Do you want to leave? Give this up?” But he knew she would not. She was too smart for that. Too ambitious.
Too in need of his touch.
Every night, she chose Him.
And every morning, He chose her.
So the cycle continues. Deeper and deeper into the abyss.
And always together.