Domination

The dress gleamed beneath the lamp, and she couldn't take her eyes off it. Before dinner, she was naked in my room, asking me to show her my world.

We got into the car laughing on Friday, but when she locked the doors, I realized the game was serious—and we were no longer in charge.

I entered the hotel to escape the heat, but it was his voice that stripped me bare first and made me want to kneel.

She entered the confessional trembling, but as she spoke, every detail of the blackmail dragged her back into the same filthy desire.

We went in chained up to entertain a private party, but the moment they released my collar, I knew that night I would lose far more than my shame.

Bruno summoned me to Inferno with a clear order, and when the other man touched me on the dance floor, I knew I wouldn’t leave intact.

The night before the flight, I slept bound between her legs, knowing that the next day my body would no longer be mine alone.

Everything changed the night she ordered me to look her in the eyes, obey without arguing, and accept that control would be hers.

First came the cage; then the chains, the orders, and a filthy mattress where I learned just how much my body could endure.

All it took was seeing her collar to make me wet in the middle of my shift, but what she did to me in the bathroom was only the beginning.

I woke with a stranger’s mouth between my legs, and when I opened my eyes, I realized the two sisters had already decided how my day would unfold.

I went for bread at dawn and ended up kneeling before a man who could read my fear, my desire, and the darkest part of my body.

With the plug inside me, my legs tense and a book open against my chest, I learned that obedience could also leave me wet and trembling.

He ordered me to wait naked, handcuffed, with a packed bag ready. I meant to say no, but my body had been begging for the opposite for weeks.

He closed the door trembling, but when I put him against the wall I understood he hadn't come to apologize: he'd come to be truly punished.

When I hung up on my boyfriend’s mistress, I looked my student in the eyes and gave him an order that stripped me bare inside too.

Every Friday, I was on duty at the bar, wearing my collar and ordered to open myself to anyone who wanted to use me.

When I saw the handcuffs on the bed, I knew I wasn’t going to sleep that night: I was going to discover how much losing control turned me on.

When we entered her house, my partner still thought she was going to put my psychologist in her place; five minutes later, neither of us was in charge.

I thought I’d only be watching them sleep, but that woman had such control over him that I ended up glued to the screen all night.