Domination

When winter leaves me trembling and alone, I close my eyes and imagine her coming in with a firm stride, ready to undress me slowly and finally make me completely hers.

The panties were still warm when she took them off the door handle. She had no idea that curiosity would lead her to a stranger’s bed.

I had been training submissive women online for years, but I never imagined that behind my new slave’s mask would be the face of the woman who lived right across the street.

They shared the same class three days a week and stole glances at each other. Until one of them decided she was done pretending nothing was happening.

When I passed the half-open bathroom and saw her naked from behind, I knew that night at my place was not going to end like two old acquaintances having tea.

When she took off her sweat-soaked T-shirt in front of that girl, she knew she was no longer sweating just from the heat of the barn.

I went up to the seventh floor looking to relax for an hour. I had no idea the masseuse, and then my lover, had other plans for me that night.

She showed up twenty minutes late on purpose so we wouldn’t have time to go to the theater. Only then did I realize she’d already decided how the night would end.

She carried a pistol hidden in her stocking and an impossible mission: get close to the most dangerous woman in the room without desire betraying her too soon.

When she sat at the bar and smiled at me, I thought we’d only share a drink. I never imagined that a few hours later I’d be naked, waiting for her next order.

I thought acting on my own would make her proud. I was wrong. The moment Renata walked in and saw what I’d done, I knew I’d be punished.

High heels, rebellious hair, and a black dress worth more than my whole wardrobe. I showed up in ripped jeans and military boots. Neither of us had come to chat.

She pushed me against the wall with a slow kiss, lowered her voice to a whisper, and told me I’d be a good girl. I never knew her name, but I obeyed her.

Saira drew the circle, lit the candles, and spoke the forbidden name. What emerged from the smoke was no docile slave: it was a woman who smiled.

She had trained for five years and never competed. On that last afternoon, when her coach straddled her, she knew it wasn’t nerves making her shake.

She chose her clothes thinking of him, not her husband. That night she would stop being a faithful wife and become, for an entire weekend, another man’s woman.

My husband handed me over to that man and spent his time filming while I took him for more than an hour. He wasn’t interested in my pussy—only my ass.

We’d been in the scene for months, but that night, between the dungeon and the club, I found out how far my wife could go when she truly let herself loose.

I woke up naked beside a man who wasn’t my husband and, for the first time in years, I felt completely desired. He still wasn’t done with me.

She had been wearing the vibrating egg since they left the hotel, and Lorenzo decided when she would come in front of everyone. That night, her husband was no longer part of the equation.