April 2025 Ask Smut Special! (Patreon)

The question was:

I’m terribly sorry for the agonizingly long-winded and morally ambiguous question smut. I need the quintessential older dom opinion, as I believe you’ll have a unique understanding of the sometimes excruciating divide between heart and groin. I am a female, late 20’s, self-proclaimed brat, and have been in a 5 year partnership with a man 10 years my senior.

When we started dating, his carnal enthusiasm and desire to get inside me was enough to scratch that submissive-sided itch. I would find myself thrown around, tied down, and my body worshipped with a heavy hand. It kept my metaphorical cup (and cunt) full. At least for the duration of ‘the honeymoon phase.’ Fast forward to current day, where both volume and quality of sexual connection are at a striking low.

There is no natural dominance nor drive to satisfy me coming from my counterpart. His desires and advances are abundant—but predictably guide me into performing oral and riding on top til’ he gets enough, swiftly followed by the rollover-and-snore. I have addressed my wants with him multiple times, including situations/positions that speak more to his control over me, and cater to my need for bratty submission.

These conversations are always met with boyish enthusiasm, friskiness, and a fleeting 3-5 business days of fsub-bratty bliss. And then the clock strikes midnight, the carriage turns back into a pumpkin, and it becomes the same ‘lazy dom’ routine of telling me to go down on him and ride him until completion— which, to be clear, would still be met with depraved enthusiasm on my end if it included any nods to the often-communicated kinks in my mental sock drawer.

I have admittedly supplemented this deficit with single-sided conversational porn audios, which have worked as the perfect pre-packaged, high-sodium, eat-in-moderation sexual snack that I have been scarfing at every opportunity, especially during busywork at my job. I believed this was mostly harmless, as it satisfied my kink without damaging my partner, and it gave me 20 minute chunks of completely hypothetical, taboo, fictional fantasy.

And then I got a new boss at work.

I feel as though my life has become one of the smut audios, and have never felt so betrayed by my own body. Since starting at my job about 4 years ago, one of the early-50’s, handsome c-suite members wouldn’t stop initiating electrifying banter with me. He was previously known as the office cad and serial womanizer, though he’s been settled with a professionally admired, age-appropriate partner since I’ve worked for the firm. We had very little crossover between our divisions, but the brief interactions we did have were always hypercharged with playfulness, teasing and tension. Other teammates would often comment that I was the only woman they’d ever met who could keep up with his rapier wit and leave him speechless in conversations. These flirtations, though palpable, were always incredibly brief with few and far instances between; we’re talking maybe one or two fleeting interactions in a given quarter. It always felt like a fun, thrilling, but minimally invasive connection.

And then the company announced a restructure.

This older dom philanderer is now my direct boss. A complete division rehaul placed me as his only female direct report, and with only a month of his leadership under my belt, I can say with certainty he is a seasoned brat tamer. Our day to day dialogue has nose dove into little more than a high-level game of chicken: he will tell me to do something preposterous (or will do something childish) to gain a tangible reaction out of me, and I —without hesitation— will do it to get the same reaction out of him.

Ex: this week he stuck a heaping spoon full of salted butter into my soda during lunch (clearly a bad joke and he was fully expecting to buy me a new soda after my initial reaction). Instead of complaining or whining or play-fighting him back, I smiled, said “cheers” and started drinking the whole thing. He immediately grabbed the drink away from me and said, verbatim, “such a fuckin brat.”

My question smut is simple: am I doing something morally wrong here by continuing to engage with my boss? Does all of this remain “okay” if it never crosses ‘the line?’ I know my boss and I both deeply love our partners, and I know that we both possess the restraint and intellect never to breach the physical barrier— but I find myself mentally ripped apart by my heart’s warm fuzzy support for my partner compared to how badly my cunt aches for the validation of my boss’ discipline. I don’t want to quit this job, I don’t want to ruin my partnership, and I don’t (actually) want to fuck my boss, but my goodness does the dynamic complicate all of the above.

I find myself passively thinking about things my boss said / looks he gave me / tones he used throughout the day and will suddenly be soaking wet doing something as mundane as the laundry. How can I get over this crush (if that’s the right word?) so that I don’t jeopardize the life I’m building?