I remember that evening especially vividly. He stood before me, awkward and a little tense, with a slight shadow of embarrassment in his eyes. But I knew he hadn’t come here to hide. He wanted to experience something real, something deep, something that defied the logic of everyday life.

I ordered him to kneel. His breathing became uneven, but he obeyed without further ado. My voice was calm, almost gentle, but there was a firmness in it that he couldn’t resist.

“Take off your shirt,” I said, watching him slowly carry out the command. Each movement seemed to slow under the weight of the moment. I enjoyed his hesitation, watching him open up to me, exposing not only his body but his vulnerability as well.

I ran my finger along his shoulder, feeling his skin break out in goosebumps. The light whip in my hand was a subtle reminder that I was in charge here.

“Look at me.” His gaze met mine, and in those eyes I saw a mixture of submission and trepidation.

My commands became more and more demanding. He lay on the floor, his wrists tightly bound with soft ribbons. Every touch, every sound in the room took on a new meaning. I played with his feelings, forcing him to balance on the edge of pleasure and tension.

He couldn’t guess what would happen next, and that was what drove him to the limit. Sometimes I allowed myself to be harsher - a light blow of the whip left red marks on his skin, reminding him who was in charge here. Sometimes I was gentle, running my fingers along his neck and whispering words in his ear that made his breath catch.

He gave himself to me completely, without reserve. His body, his mind, everything was in my hands, and I felt this power, tasted it like the most exquisite pleasure.

When it was all over, I untied his wrists, helped him to rise. He looked at me - grateful, exhausted, but absolutely happy.

This night became our secret, a moment that will remain between us forever. And I knew: he will return.