Domination

A firm hand on her nape was enough for her to understand that tonight I made the rules. The rest depended on whether she dared to stay.

His first night in cell 118 was enough to teach him he no longer owned his body, only belonged to the man in the lower bunk.

Her ass was offered up, the whip still unused in my hand, and she was begging me to begin. But the master’s pleasure is different: making her wait until fear and desire blur together.

While my husband was sucking on my breasts in front of the mirror, I was thinking about her and the body of the man we’d be having dinner with that night.

While he boiled the tea, the two men tied to the table were beginning to realize that no one would leave that living room tonight the way they had entered.

I woke naked between the two of them, my body wrecked from the night before, and from the brush of that green ruler along my back I knew they weren’t finished with me yet.

“I set the rules, and you follow them,” she said, and none of the four dared contradict her. Three months of confinement had left us at her mercy.

There was a locked door next to Barbara’s room. I opened it out of curiosity, not knowing that by that same afternoon I’d end up tied down inside.

She didn’t call me by my name the first time. She looked at me whole, without sleaze and without pity, as if my body were not a problem she had to solve.

We agreed to meet through the app in twenty minutes. I never imagined that that same night a stranger would decide what my body did and whom I gave it to.

I turn off the light, open the story, and let my hand drift down. In my head there’s always someone in the corner of the room, watching, waiting to come in.

When the anesthetic wore off and he opened his eyes, he was already naked, handcuffed to a chair, and surrounded by four women who had spent a month waiting for that moment.

I arrived at two in the morning with a dry mouth and one idea in my head: that night I wasn’t going to set any limits, no matter what happened among the pavilions.

I liked feeling watched, desired, chosen above all the others. That night a man from the countryside pulled me off the dance floor and took me somewhere with no turning back.

He had never seen a man like Lamine, and from the very first day he knew he would do anything to get back inside his house.

I’m a closet tranny. I’d spent months obeying his emails when he wrote that he’d be coming to my city, and I knew that afternoon he’d do with me everything he had ordered.

The shutter was half lowered and the key turned twice behind me. I came without my ring and with twelve years of silence on my tongue.

I followed her out into the street convinced it would be just another night. I had no idea what she was hiding under that tight dress or how far she would take me.

Forty minutes earlier my hands were shaking. Now I’m holding the harness, and for the first time in eighteen years, I’m the one deciding what happens in this room.

I showed her the video and she collapsed on the living room floor. But when she got back up, she was no longer the woman her husband had humiliated for twenty years.