How I Prepared Him for My Dominance Game

It was a dead afternoon, one of those when the body asks for noise even though the house is silent, when I decided the time had come to pick up a game I had left half-open. This was not a new whim. It had been circling in my head for months, growing steadily, taking shape every time I remembered the look on his face the first time he truly obeyed me.

From that encounter on, I knew he was not a man who was satisfied with sex that was merely correct, clean, predictable. He could sleep with whoever he wanted, he could get attention with a smile and a well-fed bank account, but beneath that confidence he was hungry for something else. Hungry for someone to take control away from him and force him to show himself as he really was.

The first time I did not go far. I only teased him. I arranged to meet him in a discreet hotel, told him what clothes to wear, and set the tone from the doorway for the night I was going to command. He obeyed nervously, curiously, with that excited fear of someone who still thinks he can back out, even though he is already in too deep.

I made him kneel. I made him hold my gaze while I explained the most basic rules: do not interrupt, do not negotiate in the middle of the game, do not fake a courage you do not yet have. That day I only wanted to leave him a sample. Enough to light him up. Enough that afterward no conventional fuck would get out of his head what he had tasted with me.

And it worked.

I knew it because he disappeared for a while. Men like him run when something touches them too deeply. They need to convince themselves that they are still in charge, that nothing has changed, that they can go back to their routine and keep being the same. But I knew better than anyone that he no longer was.

After that he failed. I arranged a second meeting and he arrived late, full of excuses, thinking he could make up for it with charm. I let him talk for two minutes before sending him back to his car without touching him. He learned more from that rejection than from any caress. If I set a day and a time, they were to be obeyed. No questions. No conditions. None of that habit he had of believing the world bent around his schedule.

Then I let him go.

I left him for several months with the memory nailed into his body. I pictured him seeking relief in other beds, trying to repeat the sensations, failing. Because what was his was not just coming. What was his was the mix of shame, desire, and obedience. What he needed was not a woman who praised him, but one who watched him come undone and ordered him exactly how to do it.

When I decided to reappear, I did not do it dramatically. I sent him a brief, dry message, no greeting.

—Tonight, eleven o'clock. Alone. I want a one-minute video of you masturbating in front of the mirror. Slowly. Don't come.

He replied five minutes later.

—Yes.

He did not ask anything else. That was when I knew he was finally ready to learn.

The video arrived at eleven oh seven. I let him sweat for half an hour before opening it. He was in the bathroom of his apartment, shirt open and trousers halfway down his legs. He had his cock hard in his hand, his breathing broken, his eyes fixed on his own reflection. He touched himself slowly, reluctantly obeying the urge to squeeze harder, to speed up, to come. He stopped when he was on the edge. His thighs were trembling. I liked that.

I answered with another command.

—Tomorrow I want the same thing, but naked. And this time you'll spread your ass open with your fingers while you look at yourself. I want to see if you've really learned how to prepare yourself for me.

It took him longer to reply.

—Understood.

The next day he did better. I could tell from the first second. He had lost some of his modesty and gained need. He stood in front of the mirror completely naked, one hand on his cock and the other sliding between his butt cheeks. First he parted the flesh awkwardly, then with more confidence. When he pushed in the first finger, he let out a stifled gasp and tilted his head. I did not look away from the screen.

I ordered him to repeat it for a week. One test each night. A new limit each night.

***

By the third night he was already asking for more without saying it. In the video you could see it in how long he took opening himself, in how he kept two fingers inside, breathing with his mouth open, in how he stroked his cock only enough to keep from losing his erection. I answered with a voice note. I wanted him to hear my voice while he obeyed.

—Tomorrow you won't touch your cock at all until I tell you to. First you're going to prepare your ass. One finger, then two. Slowly. I want to see you moving your hips to take them properly. And if you come without permission, it's over between us.

The threat excited him more than any compliment. I could tell from the next day's video. His cock was hard and shining without him having touched it much at all. All his effort was going into his ass. He opened himself with two fingers, then slid in a third with a hoarse moan that made me smile. Seeing him like that, obedient and needy, was exactly what I had been waiting for.

I decided to raise the level a little.

—Book a room for Friday —I texted him—. I’ll send you the address. You arrive before I do. No alcohol. No coming until then. I want to find you sensitive, loaded, and desperate to beg.

This time there was no delay, no doubt, no excuses. Just one message.

—Done.

On Friday I arrived twenty minutes late on purpose. He opened the door immediately, as if he had been glued to it waiting for the elevator to sound. He was wearing a dark shirt and had a tense expression. I walked in without kissing him. I dropped my bag on the table, swept the suite with a slow glance, and finally looked at him.

—Get undressed.

He did it in silence. First the shirt. Then the belt, the trousers, the shoes. When he was completely naked, I saw at once that he had obeyed my last instruction: his cock was hard and heavy, the tip wet, his balls tight with restraint. I lowered my gaze slowly and returned to his eyes.

—Did you come this week?

—No.

—Not once?

—Not once.

I stepped closer until I was one step away. I grabbed his cock without gentleness, only to check how hard it was. He let out a breath through his nose and clenched his jaw.

—Good. You're learning.

I made him kneel beside the bed. I did not give him permission to touch me. While he waited with his hands on his thighs, I took off my jacket, then my blouse, with the precise calm of someone who knows that every second of waiting is a form of control. His gaze moved from my mouth to my cleavage and from there to the floor, as if he did not dare look at me more than he should.

—Look at me when I speak to you —I said.

He lifted his head at once.

—Today you're going to show me whether you deserve to keep playing with me. I want to see you open yourself for me. Here. On your knees. With nothing hidden.

He trembled slightly, but he obeyed. He turned and rested his forearms on the bed. The position left him exposed in the rawest way, his ass spread under the room's warm light. He ran his tongue over his lips, maybe from nerves, maybe because he knew exactly what was coming.

—Spread yourself wide.

He put his hand between his legs and opened his ass with his fingers, offering himself without elegance, without pose, exactly as I wanted. I moved in behind him and spat on his opening before pushing a finger in hard. He shuddered all over.

—You like that, don't you?

—Yes.

—I didn't hear you.

—Yes, I like it.

I moved my finger inside him slowly at first, feeling the tension, the way his body tried to clench and surrender at the same time. Then I slid in a second finger and made him moan for real, a deeper sound, less restrained, that came straight from his throat. I started to open him patiently and firmly, going in and out, twisting my wrist, feeling how he loosened for me.

—That's it. Relax. If you know how to obey, everything goes in better.

His cock hung hard beneath him, swaying only slightly with each thrust of my hand. He did not dare touch himself. I stroked his balls for a second with my other hand and made him gasp.

—Do not move your hands from where I told you.

—Yes.

—Yes, what?

—Yes, I’ll do what you tell me.

I pulled my fingers out and spat on him again, this time more. Then I slid in the third. He protested with a muffled sound, but he did not pull away. On the contrary, he pushed back slightly, asking for it. That heated me more than I expected. I grabbed his hair and forced him to lift his head a little.

—Look at how you're opening for me. Months ago you thought you could set conditions. Now you're on all fours waiting for me to put my hand in you. Learn the difference.

—I know.

—And what are you here?

He swallowed.

—Whatever you want.

I let go of his hair and smiled. That answer worked for me.

I pulled down my underwear and positioned myself behind him. I took a small bottle of lubricant from my bag and opened it slowly, letting him hear the click of the cap. I poured a cold stream between his butt cheeks and another over a slender plug I had brought for that night. When he saw it, he moaned before I even touched him.

—Scared?

—No.

—Good. Because you're going to swallow it whole.

I set it at the entrance to his ass and began to press. It went in little by little, stretching him with delicious resistance. He was breathing in short gasps, clutching the sheets hard. When the widest part passed, he let out a groan and tipped his head to one side. I pushed it all the way in and gave one of his cheeks a sharp slap.

—Stay like that.

I moved in front of him and lifted his chin with two fingers. His face was flushed with arousal, his mouth half open, his eyes bright.

—Now yes. Touch yourself. Slowly.

His hand went to his cock as if it had been waiting for it all night. He wrapped it and started stroking himself with a short, barely controlled rhythm. The plug inside his ass made him tighten, move, seek relief. I watched him while I caressed myself over my skirt, enjoying the spectacle.

—Slower —I ordered—. I didn't give you permission to come.

He forced himself to slow down. His hand was trembling. The clear fluid at the tip was becoming more abundant. I put two fingers in his mouth and he sucked them without thinking, with an obedience that was no longer an act but pure need.

—Suck them well. That's it. I want that same mouth on my pussy afterward.

I pushed them deeper and he took them halfway in, moaning around them. I yanked the plug out. His empty ass clenched. Before he could process it, I pushed him to the edge of the bed and sat on his face.

—Eat.

He needed nothing more. He grabbed my thighs and buried his tongue between my folds with hunger, with a desperate concentration that tore a gasp from me. He licked deep, slow below and fast above, finding the clit with precision. I gripped the headboard and started moving my hips over his mouth, using his tongue however I wanted, squeezing his face between my legs.

—Like that, you bastard. Don't stop. Get in there properly.

He obeyed, alternating tongue and lips, sucking, brushing me exactly where I needed it most. I could feel him hard beneath me, his cock trapped between his stomach and the mattress, his ass still open and sensitive. Every wet sound from his mouth pushed me closer and closer.

I came with a hard spasm, pinning his head between my thighs as I let out a long, filthy moan. I did not move away at once. I let him breathe in my heat for a few seconds before straightening up. His face was wet and he wore an almost humiliating look of hunger. I loved it.

—Stand up.

He got to his feet instantly. I turned him around, shoved him against the wall, and spat into his mouth before kissing him. This time I did kiss him, hard, thrusting my tongue in, letting him taste in his mouth the flavor of what he had just done. He moaned against my lips. I bit his lower lip and grabbed his cock again.

—Do you want to come?

—Yes.

—Not yet.

I took him back to the bed and made him get on all fours. I spread his cheeks and saw the hole closing and opening only slightly, sensitive, reddened, ready. I poured on more lubricant and shoved two fingers in hard. He pushed back shamelessly, no longer able to hide how much he wanted it.

—Look at her begging —I murmured—. Your ass already knows who it's opening for.

I pushed in three fingers and started fucking him properly with my hand, going deep, pulling out and pushing back in with a rhythm that grew rougher and rougher. He was gasping, saying my name, swallowing his moans into the sheets. I gave him another slap and then another, alternating pain and penetration, watching how each blow made him harder.

—Tell me what you want.

—I want more.

—That doesn't say anything.

He turned his head just enough for me to hear him clearly.

—I want you to fuck my ass. I want you to use me.

Finally.

I took out the harness I had brought rolled up in my bag and dropped it onto the bed so he could see it. His breathing changed instantly. That was it. That was what he had been waiting for from the beginning, even if he had not dared to name it. I put it on without rushing, holding his gaze while I adjusted the straps around my waist and between my legs. The silicone cock, thick and smooth, ended up pointing at him.

—Now you're going to understand what I was preparing you for.

I lined it up with the tip and set it against his ass. He was already well opened by my fingers, but even so the pressure made him moan. I pushed in little by little, letting the head overpower him first. His back arched.

—Breathe.

He gripped the sheets and obeyed. I kept going in centimeter by centimeter, feeling the resistance give way. When half of it was inside, he let out a long whimper, a mix of discomfort and raw pleasure. I did not pull back. I kept pushing until it was almost fully in. Then I stayed still, letting him feel the weight, the invasion, the certainty of being filled.

—Look at yourself —I said, pulling his hair so he would raise his head toward the mirror on the closet door—. I want you to see how I have you.

His eyes locked onto the reflection. Me behind him, holding him by the hip, the harness pressed against my pelvis, him open for me and trembling.

I started to move slowly. I came out a little and went back in, each thrust deeper than the last. The wet sound of the lubricant and his broken breathing filled the room. It did not take long before he started pushing back to meet me, desperate for more friction, more depth.

—Still —I warned, giving him a harder smack on the ass.

He moaned, but stayed where he was. I took advantage of it to find the rhythm I wanted. Long, firm thrusts, the pelvis of the harness slamming into his ass. Every time I drove in all the way, he let out a moan he no longer tried to hide. I lowered one hand and started stroking his cock at the same time.

That destroyed him.

—Fuck... —he let out.

—Yes, fuck. That's how I wanted you. Open, hard, and beyond saving.

I tightened my hand on his cock and sped up the motion of the harness. I fucked his ass with dry, sharp thrusts while I jacked his cock with a steady rhythm, giving him no respite. He was not speaking anymore. He only moaned, gasped, said “please” through clenched teeth, and pushed his hips toward my hand.

—Do not come until I tell you to.

—I can't hold it.

—Yes, you can. Hold on.

I let go of his cock just when he was on the edge and kept giving him only from behind. The change made him complain in frustration. I grabbed him by the nape and forced him to stay on all fours while I drove the harness into him hard, over and over, making the sound of every slap against his ass rebound off the walls. There was nothing elegant left in the scene. It was exactly as it had to be: raw, sweaty, obscene, real.

I slipped my hand under his abdomen and squeezed his balls.

—Are you going to behave?

—Yes.

—Are you going to come when I want?

—Yes, please.

I grabbed his cock again. Three more thrusts, deep, hard. Four. Five. I felt him tense all over.

—Come.

He came with a savage moan, spraying the sheet in jets while I kept penetrating him without slowing, stretching his orgasm until it became almost painful. His arms shook and he ended with his forehead buried in the mattress, breathing as if he had just come out of the water.

Only then did I slow down and pull out carefully. His ass clenched empty again. I stroked his back with the tips of my fingers, not in tenderness but as reward. He had obeyed. He had learned.

***

Afterward I sent him to the bathroom to clean himself up, and he came back still naked, more docile than when he had arrived. He stood beside the bed waiting for instructions. I liked that image almost as much as the orgasm.

—Come here.

He came closer and I made him kneel once more, this time between my legs. I ran my hand through his hair and let his forehead rest against my thigh.

—This is just the beginning —I told him—. You're no longer going to pretend you don't want this. Every test was to get here. To prepare you. To see if you would really open yourself the way I ordered.

He nodded without lifting his head.

—I know.

—No. Now you do know.

I made him lift his gaze. His lips were swollen, his face tired and satisfied, the expression of a man whose deepest hidden desire had finally been named. He did not need to tell me he would be back. He was already hooked long before he crossed that door.

—Next time —I continued— you're going to arrive with your ass prepared from home. I want you to practice with your fingers and with the plug. I want discipline. I want videos. I want to see you hold out without coming until I decide.

—Yes.

—And if you fail again, there will not be another chance.

He leaned in and kissed my thigh, slowly, with an exact mixture of respect and hunger.

I smiled. Now he was exactly where he should be: not as the man who thought he could take me or leave me whenever he wanted, but as the adult, eager body that had finally accepted what it needed. A man on his knees, his ass trained for me, waiting for the next order.

When I left the hotel, I sent him one last message before getting in the elevator.

—Tomorrow, in front of the mirror. I want to see you on all fours, opening yourself to remember who your desire belongs to.

The reply arrived before the doors closed.

—Yes. I’m already thinking about it.

So was I.