She.  

He stopped texting her, all of a sudden. She could not understand why, since he had asked her to be his completely, to belong to him out of her own will. She had found this disturbing and enticing at the same time. The nature of her feelings for him drove her to him in ways others would not have thought possible. These others would maybe have felt asphyxiated by his demands but in her case, she glorified in them.

She yearned for him, his voice, his skin, his body, his soul! She had become him and yet, he had chosen to dispose of her somehow. And of course, she questioned herself. She never stopped to think maybe it was him the one who could not honour his own demands and standards in their connection. She could never think of him as someone she could blame for anything, if things had failed it had to be due to her, she must have failed somewhere in the way and he had been too kind to let her know, he was blameless.

And while he centred on his life and moved on swiftly, she waited for him, waited for just one text to prove to her he still cared. The text never came, of course. She never got closure from him, never a word of apology, least of all a word of concern as to his well being. He just gave her a bogus excuse once and then silence, that silence that left her with nothing.

She was almost rendered numb when she saw by chance his happy pic on social media. His new supply looked happy too. So this was the reason, the answer, the end of things. She had thought him so special... he was just commonplace.

Smiling sadly to herself, she realized she ought to have known better, she should have seen through the mask he wore. Well, she hadn´t. Things like these happen to Subs when they find immature boys playing at being Doms.  

Part II. He.  

He did not know what to do. He wished he had never started talking to her. She was inconvenient in every sense, except in one, he could do what he wanted with her. That was all he cared about in women. While pretending to be friendly and care about their rights all he cared about was they allowed him the free use of their bodies in any way he chose. Nothing mattered to him, except power and the women in his life had to validate that.

And so, one day he realized she loved him so he started growing tired of her. True, she made no demands but he felt like discarding her and he did with no regrets. He had no regrets, she had filled her quota of time with him, she had to go.

He stopped texting her for longer intervals while knowing very well she was hurt. Well, let her be hurt, that was her problem, he had other things to worry about. It was not his fault if she loved him to pieces, all of them did, after a while and usually when nearing their downfall.

One day when cornered about his silence he gave her a bogus explanation, he had to, the idiot was still worried about him! How could he say he was after a more exciting one, he was grooming the new one to become his and had no time for her?

Somehow he expected her to go on texting him, trying to attract his attention but she never did. He felt free, free from her, free from her stupid devotion, free to go on love bombing, devaluing and discarding as he had always done.

Never mind his freedom, or rather the illusion of it, was tainted with the pain inflicted on others. He wished he had been born with a manual of instructions so women would know how to deal with him. After all, he never meant to hurt anyone. He was a good boy.