I always knew that control was my thing. I loved seeing people lose themselves under my gaze, how easily I could change their mood with a word or a movement. He was no exception.

When he first walked into this room, his tension was obvious. The awkward movement of his shoulders, the uncertain gaze that kept dropping to the floor. I stood opposite him, relaxed, but with that same small smile that always knocked the wind out from under my feet.

“Relax,” I said calmly, watching him exhale, as if my words had given him permission to breathe.

I walked closer, my heels clanking on the floor, each step a countdown to something important. When I was close enough to feel his breath, I stopped.

“On your knees,” I said, looking straight into his eyes.

He knelt immediately, almost automatically, but I noticed how his hands tensed, how he clenched his fingers. He was struggling with himself, and it felt good. I picked up the whip from the nearby table and ran the tip along his shoulder, down to his hand.

"You trust me, don't you?" I asked, still watching his reaction.

"Yes, mistress," he answered, his voice low and slightly trembling, but there was not a shadow of doubt in it.

"Good," I nodded and lightly touched his chin, forcing him to look up. His eyes met mine, and in that moment I felt awe and delight fill the space between us.

I enjoyed this game - a game where my every word and movement mattered, where he completely surrendered to my power. It was wonderful.

But the most important thing for me in this was to see how he dissolved into the moment, how his every gesture, every emotion said: he belongs to me.

"Tonight you will do only what I want," I said, smiling slightly. "Are you ready, my dear?"

"Yes, mistress," his voice became firmer, and I knew that ahead of us lay a night that neither of us would forget.