The room was dim. The only light was a candle, its flame flickering, casting playful shadows on the walls. He stood by the door, slightly hunched over, as if waiting for my permission to enter. I was silent, letting him feel that every movement, every gesture was only with my permission.

“Closer,” I finally said, and he stepped forward, carefully, as if afraid to disturb this fragile atmosphere.

I pointed to the floor in front of me. He understood without words. His knees touched the carpet, and I noted to myself how quickly he accepted his role. It is always exciting: to see someone willingly give up control, allowing me to lead them to where the boundaries are erased.

“Hands behind your back,” I commanded.

He obeyed, and I came closer, enjoying this moment of power. Soon there was a silk cord on his wrists, which I pulled tight enough for him to feel my strength, but not pain.

I leaned toward him, running my fingers along his chin, forcing him to look up. His eyes were a mixture of worry and anticipation.

“You’re mine,” I said, and he nodded. That was enough.

I pulled out an elegant collar, adorned with a small ring. Taking it by the chin, I looked deep into his eyes before slowly fastening the strap around his neck. The gesture was a symbol for both of us: for him, submission; for me, absolute control.

“Stand up.” His body trembled, but he obeyed, rising to his feet.

I circled him like a predator studying its prey. His breathing was noticeably louder, his body tense. I ran my fingers down his back, stopping where I could leave my mark, an invisible seal of my dominion.

A light lash of the whip on his shoulder, and he flinched, but made no attempt to resist. I liked feeling him surrender to this moment, becoming part of my scenario, my world.

I continued to play with his boundaries, alternating sharp movements with barely perceptible touches. Each gesture was thought out, each word was dictated by my desire.

When it was all over, I took off the collar and untied his hands. He knelt down without saying a word. I ran my hand through his hair, gently, as if finishing this session with something that could almost be called care.

“You’re great,” I whispered. His smile was barely noticeable, but I saw it.

We both knew that this evening was another page in our shared history.