Hearing a knock at your apartment door, you quell the rush you feel at having someone so willing to thoroughly fulfil your desires.

Scanning' up and down, appreciating how nice I look in formal wear, and appreciating that I took the care to dress up, even though we know you'll be taking everything.

I look almost shy. A faint blush tinging my otherwise pale cheeks, high cheekbones framed by a lion's mane, and piercing green eyes.

I'm not shy.

You know exactly what I am, And you know exactly what you want to do with me.

Standing in the doorway, You asked me to take off my shoes- something I would normally do [because I'm nothing, if not fucking thoughtful and polite], then to hand them to you - something I would not normally do.

You take them and I make a move forward, as if to enter. We are familiar; we have familiarity.

You stand immobile, blocking the doorway.

"What do you think you're doing?" you admonish sharply.

A flicker of confusion, mixed with the tiniest bit of embarrassment, clouds my face momentarily.

You smugly continue, "I need your shirt too."

I obey without question. (Always.)

You add it to the bundle in your arms.

I look at you expectantly, awaiting further instructions.

You seem to love watching the various emotions cross my face and the shifts in my body language. I feel uncertain.

"And the pants," You say playfully, raising your eyebrows.

I don't resist; I wouldn't dare.

I place them in your arms, a little nervous now.

Clutching the soft fabric of my clothes to your chest, you decide to let me leave my shorts on.

(Nearly naked outside your door where anyone could see is enough of a test... this time.)

"Get on your knees," you command, no longer sounding so playful.

A grin spreads across your face as you pull out a black piece of cloth and tie it around my head, removing my vision.

"And stay there," You snapped and then slammed the door in my face.

My senses shot to 11. The hair on my arms stood up, well aware of the situation I was in. It was a mixture of terror and thrill.

(Did I hear laughter, I'm almost certain I did)

You spend the next several minutes torturing me.

Footsteps [deliberately, audibly - this can't be an accident?] back and forth through my apartment.

Furniture moved around. A pan placed on the drying rack

Gentle tapping on a wall.

Fingernails gliding down the frame of the door as I hear you pass. (Fuck)

You twist the knob, then release it abruptly without actually opening the door. (!?!!?)

I swear I can hear the laughter in your mind, how much fun you're having at my expense

Will I get caught by one of my neighbours? What would I even say?

What are you doing inside?

How long will I be out here for?

What happens when she opens the door?

What if she doesn't!

Seconds feel like minutes. Minutes feel like hours.

Why does this feel so right?

I'm loving every minute of this.

(Again I marvel that we have come so far. I certainly couldn't have predicted a Reddit post would lead to meeting someone as exquisite as you. That simple subtext of how attractive I am or the many skills I possess could hold the slightest bit of sway over a woman like you)

I finally hear the opening of the door and I am just as you left me. A present wrapped for your enjoyment.

The words "Good boy" send a shiver up my spine, a flush to my cheeks, and a smile I can't hold back.

You remove the blindfold and the brush of your nails against the back of my neck sets off a firestorm - everything had been turned up to 11 while waiting in the cold.

I looked into your eyes, feeling peaceful, and an unspoken smile passed between us.

"Would you like to come in now?"

"Yes, please."

(I love this game, our game!)

You cupped my chin. brushed the hair off my forehead.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, please, Mommy."

I feel the effect that has on you.

If finding a woman like you was a gift. Being able to make you feel happiness is a treasure.

You step aside, allowing me to enter.

You slipped your arms around me with an "Mmmm."

The corners of his mouth turn up. Inside I'm jumping with joy.

Your lips brushed my neck.

You can hear my heartbeat.

I can breathe your scent.

I see your eyes flutter and my eyes beam.

"Can I touch you?" I whisper... because even now, I would never- not without permission.

(I want to ask; you want to make me ask. We are like two sides of the same coin, in so many ways.)

You pull away to meet my eyes and confidently speak one of your, well, our favourite words- "No."

I'm trembling ever so slightly. You can see his pulse in my neck. You wonder if it's nervousness or excitement. If you were to ask, I'd say, "both."

That would be redundant. You know every button to push, every word to coax exactly the reaction you desire.

You raised your arm and paused mid-air, watching me become more of both. I see the faintest struggle as you try not to smile.

Laser-focused.

You trace the tip of your index finger down my chest. I shiver. My eyes close.

You run your nails down both of my biceps. I exhaled a breath neither of us knew I was holding. My whole body relaxes for you.

I am almost ready.

"Can I kiss you?' I ask.

"No," you replied with a smirk, "but I can kiss you." And so you do.

You break the kiss too soon for us both and wonder who the Masochist really is here.

Your thumbs pass over my nipples. I gasp.

You pinch them. I moan and lean into you. Not away. Never away. My hands were still at my sides, like a Good Boy.

At this moment I am yours.

I am beautiful

I am what you want.

Take what you want.