I Knelt Before Her Without Anyone Asking Me To

Knock, knock. May I come in?

—Come in.

When I pulled back the fitting-room curtain, Adriana was there. Stunning, as always. This time she was wearing a black latex miniskirt with a front slit that revealed coral-colored panties and legs that looked as though they’d been sculpted by someone who understands exact proportions. The air in the little cubicle smelled of her perfume, something between wood and vanilla that had stayed with me since the first time, mixed with a more intimate, almost mineral scent seeping up from beneath the latex and making me swallow hard.

My reaction was instinctive: to kneel. It wasn’t a thought-out act or an order received. It was something that rose from the center of my chest, an almost physical need to tell her without words that I admired her. That I admired her confidence, the way she occupied every space as if it belonged to her, that determination she wore like she wore the latex. I knelt at her feet as a gesture of genuine devotion, and from that position my cock hardened at once against the fly of my trousers. My face was almost level with her crotch, and through the front slit of the miniskirt I could clearly see the coral fabric of the panties plastered against her cunt. There was a darker patch in the center, a barely perceptible dampness that betrayed the fact that I wasn’t the only one getting hot in that cubicle. I had to dig my nails into my palms to keep from leaning in and licking her through the fabric.

I helped her try on the first corset, my hands trembling in a way I didn’t want her to notice. As I tightened the laces at her sides, I accidentally brushed a nipple through the fabric and Adriana let out a short, almost inaudible sigh that shot through my cock like an electric jolt. It was too big on her. I went out to find a smaller size with my cock jammed against the zipper and my mouth dry.

***

The first time I saw Adriana was three months earlier, at a gathering organized in a bar in Barcelona’s Gothic Quarter. I had spent weeks reading about this kind of meet-up, convincing myself that there was nothing wrong with going, that I didn’t have to explain to anyone why I felt what I felt. I walked in with damp hands and a racing pulse, expecting to find something I couldn’t yet define.

I found it the moment she opened her mouth.

—Hi, I’m Adriana. Thank you very much for coming to this first meeting.

It sounds like a banal line. A polite introduction, nothing more. But coming from her, with that Venezuelan accent that turned every word into a slow caress, it took on another dimension. There was a natural authority in her voice, a warmth that didn’t ask permission to settle into your head and stay there, circling for days.

I had already seen her profile on the platform where these events were organized. I knew she was dominant, that she had been in the scene for years, that she had a very clear philosophy about consent and protocols. What I didn’t know was that she would captivate me like that from the very first second. It wasn’t just attraction. It was something deeper, something that made me feel as if all the scattered pieces inside me finally had a place to fit. That didn’t stop me from noticing the edge of her bra showing beneath her shirt, or from feeling my cock start to swell just from hearing her talk.

We talked for a few minutes. She asked me what had brought me there and I answered with a honesty that surprised even me. I told her I had been feeling a need for some time that I didn’t know how to name, that I found it hard to explain why the idea of serving someone gave me so much peace. She nodded slowly, as if what I was telling her were the most normal thing in the world, and just when I was about to ask her something else, other people came over and the conversation dissolved.

I watched her from afar the rest of the night. I saw how she moved among people with an elegance that wasn’t put on. She talked to everyone, listened carefully, touched someone’s arm to emphasize a phrase. She was a queen. Not because she set out to be one, but because it was her natural state, and everything around her seemed to orbit her without effort. I talked to other people that night. Some interesting, others much less so. But my attention was already fixed on Adriana, and my cock, which kept going soft and hard again depending on whether she came closer or moved away, wouldn’t let me forget her for a single minute.

***

I went back to the fitting room with the size M corset and knelt to present it to her. I helped her put it on, tightening the side clasps carefully so I wouldn’t brush her skin more than necessary, though every accidental touch shot through me like a charge. My fingertips were sticky with sweat every time I grazed the side of her pussy over the latex. I don’t know where they got those sizes in that store, but the M was loose on her too. I checked the rack and there wasn’t an S anywhere.

—Wait —I said—. Let me look for something different.

I wandered through the store with the urgency of someone trying to solve a problem that wasn’t his but felt like his own, and with an erection so hard I had to walk half bent over so it wouldn’t show. There were several corsets on display. Some Adriana had already ruled out, others she hadn’t even given a glance. I kept at it until I found one completely different: black with burgundy details, an elegant lacing in the back, and a structure I intuited would fit her figure better.

I went back to the fitting room. On my knees, I presented the piece to her.

***

At the second meeting I managed to talk to her a little more. Without trying to take up more of her time than I was entitled to, we exchanged a few words that kept bouncing around my head all week. I told her I wanted to get to know her better, that I felt something hard to explain, that I wasn’t looking for anything she didn’t want to give.

Adriana looked at me with those dark eyes that seemed to read every intention behind the words.

—If you want to see me outside here, I need written permission —she said naturally, as if asking me to pass the salt—. From your partner. Signed. I’m not interested in being anyone’s secret.

That condition wasn’t trivial. I had verbal permission; we had been talking about these things at home for some time, but no one had ever asked me to formalize it in writing. It required a major effort on my part. Not because of the content, but because of what it implied: turning something intimate and diffuse into a concrete document, with words that left no room for ambiguity.

There were trips in between, weeks of an impossible schedule. I arrived at the third meeting with the task almost sorted but not closed. The next day I got the signature, scanned it, sent it to her. Adriana read it, approved it, and suggested I choose an outfit for what would be our first session.

Our first session.

The words kept turning over in my head for days. I repeated them silently while driving, while cooking, while trying to focus on anything that wasn’t her. At night I came in my hand thinking about what that phrase promised: that she would tie me up, that she would piss on me, that she would make me lick her cunt until she got tired of my tongue and ordered me to keep going.

***

We had already been together before, looking for clothes for that session. On another occasion I had bought her a bra and panties set in red that looked spectacular on her, and we tried to find a pair of high heels that never showed up in the right size. That afternoon, while she tried on the shoes sitting on a bench in the store, I had the chance to kneel and taste her feet.

I started with the right one. I took her ankle in both hands, with the same delicacy one would use for something sacred, and lifted it until I could kiss the top of her foot. Her skin tasted faintly of salt and of the cream she used to moisturize it, and I noticed how Adriana, without moving, let a little of her weight fall onto my mouth, as if telling me without words that I could go on. I ran my tongue over the arch, slowly, tracing it all the way from heel to toes. When I reached the toes I took the big toe into my mouth and sucked it like a tiny cock, drawing on it with my lips pressed tight and curling my tongue around it. Adriana exhaled through her nose with a sound that was half laugh and half stifled moan, and I let go of it only to take two fingers in at once. I slobbered all over the top of her foot, kissed between each toe, licked the sole until it shone. My cock was so hard it hurt inside my pants and, when she switched feet, she took advantage of it to set her saliva-wet foot right on the bulge and press just enough to draw a groan from me. She looked down at me with a mix of amusement and approval, a slow smile crossing her mouth, and I knew there was no turning back, that I already belonged to her even if we hadn’t signed anything.

Everything was leading toward that promised session, in which she assured me she would unleash all her hedonism.

***

The corset with the lacing in the back fit her perfectly. Better than perfectly. Her breasts pushed against the upper edge of the fabric, and the edge of the coral bra could be seen peeking out from underneath. It was an image that left me breathless.

—Take it off —I said, and hearing myself, I corrected immediately—. Sorry. I mean the bra. If you want to try the corset without it, I think it’ll fit you even better.

Adriana arched an eyebrow. A nearly imperceptible smile crossed her lips.

—You think so?

—I’m sure of it.

She loosened the laces just enough, slipped the bra out from under the corset with a quick motion, and placed it in my open hand, still warm from her skin. I held it like a relic. Then she tightened the corset again, and the result was something I don’t have enough vocabulary to describe fairly. The fabric fitted her body as if it had been sewn directly onto her skin. Her tits, free of the bra, filled the corset cups with obscene naturalness, and the nipples, already hardened, showed just over the upper edge, dark and thick against the glossy black fabric. She was a goddess. Not as a metaphor or as empty praise. She was, literally, the image of something before which one has no choice but to fall to one’s knees.

And that’s what I did. Again.

I kissed her stomach below the corset, right on that strip of skin exposed above the waistband of the miniskirt. Adriana didn’t stop me. I went up with my mouth along the contour of the corset to the top edge and ran my tongue over the base of her breasts, slowly, first the left, then the right. When I reached the nipples I sucked them one after the other as if I had the last chance in my life to do it, biting them with the edge of my teeth just enough to feel her neck tense. I heard her let the air out through her mouth with a hiss and felt her place a hand on the back of my neck, not to push me or to pull me away, but to anchor me there, to keep me exactly where she wanted me.

—Lower —she murmured.

I went back down. The latex miniskirt covered her cunt, but the front slit was still there, offering me the coral panties, now increasingly soaked. I ran my nose over the fabric and inhaled that smell that had been driving me crazy since I walked into the fitting room, the smell of a wet female, a willing female. I laid my tongue flat over the panties, from bottom to top, tracing her cunt through the fabric, and felt her open her legs slightly to give me more room. I did it again, harder, feeling the edge of her outer lips take shape against my tongue, feeling the taste of the wet fabric mix with her own. Adriana grabbed my hair and pulled my head back a centimeter, just enough to remind me where we were.

—Not in the fitting room —she said softly, not angry, with a smile that promised yes, but somewhere else.

I kissed the inside of her thigh in gratitude and leaned back, still on my knees, my mouth shining with saliva and with her. She kept the corset on. She looked at herself in the fitting-room mirror, turned from side to side, and with a gesture that needed no words decided it was hers. We left the store and walked together down Passeig de Gràcia under the afternoon light.

Adriana walked as if the street were a runway designed exclusively for her. The corset neckline under her half-open jacket drew eyes from every angle. Men turning their heads, women lowering their eyes as they crossed her path, couples breaking off their conversation for half a second. The looks were palpable, almost tactile, and I couldn’t help feeling a pride that didn’t belong to me but filled me completely. My cock, which had only half gone soft after the fitting room, swelled again every time some guy turned around to stare at her ass.

At a traffic light she leaned toward me and spoke in my ear without looking at me, her mouth pressed to my earlobe.

—My panties are dripping because of you —she told me softly, slowly, shaping every syllable—. In the session I’m going to stuff them in your mouth and you’re going to suck them while I fingerfuck your ass. Do you understand?

—Yes, ma’am.

The light changed. We crossed. I didn’t answer anything else because my voice wouldn’t come.

I’m walking beside this woman. Beside this goddess who could be with anyone and has chosen to have me here.

I’m perfectly aware that giving Adriana my absolute adoration places me in a vulnerable position. I know it. I’m not naive. I know that limitless devotion can be dangerous, that opening yourself up like this to someone is like standing naked in the middle of a storm. But my surrender is genuine. I can’t fight what I feel, and I stopped trying a long time ago. I only hope she notices it, values it, doesn’t mistake it for weakness.

Because it isn’t weakness. It is the bravest thing I’ve ever done in my life.

I’m also aware that I can’t take up all her space. Adriana is free, and her freedom includes sharing her hedonism with other people. I not only respect that reality, I admire it. There is something beautiful in her ability to form bonds without possession, to receive devotion without demanding it, and to return it transformed into something that feels like a privilege. Knowing that others eat her cunt, that others kiss her feet, that another cock enters her from time to time, doesn’t take anything away from what’s mine. It confirms it for me.

I only hope she keeps a space reserved for me. Even if it’s small. Even if it’s a corner at the back of her life where I can kneel from time to time, open her legs and eat her cunt until she comes all over my face, and feel that I belong to something bigger than myself.

***

The walk took us away from the main avenue and into the narrow streets of the Born until we reached a small square where the trees filtered the day’s last light. We went into the agreed-upon bar, a place with exposed brick walls and a dark wooden counter, and settled at a table near the window. I ordered two beers. She didn’t touch hers.

Under the table, without taking her eyes off the door, she placed the sole of her shoe on my cock and pressed. The fabric of my trousers was marked by the outline of the heel. She didn’t move her foot. She left it there, pressing with the exact force needed to remind me that I was hers, while she held my gaze with the calm of someone who knows the other person can do nothing now but obey. I clenched my teeth and held her gaze too, feeling a drop of pre-cum escape and mix with the friction of the heel.

Soon after, the first attendees began to arrive. One by one, with that mix of curiosity and shyness I recognized perfectly because I had felt it myself three months earlier. Adriana removed her foot unhurriedly, stood up, smoothed her jacket over the corset, and walked to the entrance with that warm elegance that defined her.

—Hi, I’m Adriana. Thank you for attending this fourth meeting.

The line was the same as always. But said by her, with that accent that caressed every syllable, it still hit me in exactly the same place in the chest, and in another one a little lower. I stayed seated, watching her from my chair, feeling the whole bar reorganize around her and the heel still imprinted on my cock beneath the table.

This is only the beginning, I thought.

And for the first time in a long while, the wait didn’t weigh on me.