If they knew, it would be the end of you.

Maybe you have the kind of high-powered job that would end in a moment if so much as an improper picture came out. Maybe your family would cast you out. Maybe you swore a vow of chastity.

Whatever it is, it was convenient and it gave you what you needed.

And then you met me. And there was something about the way my eyes lingered on you, something about the little smirk as my gaze penetrated all your defenses and left you feeling like you were naked and pinned against a wall, that made you give in.

Just for a moment. Just one sweet little moment. Maybe you flashed your panties at me. Maybe you arched your back; maybe you were a little more bold and sought me out on social media.

Maybe you even sent me a risque picture.

Whatever it was, as soon as you did it: it was over for you. You were mine, even if you didn't realize it yet. I knew I had you, and I fully intended to take my time.

And by the time the jaws of the trap spring shut around you, it doesn't even feel like a trap any more. I'm older than you. I'm wealthy in my own right. I'll take good care of you. All you have to do is call me Daddy, and let me leave you covered in bruises. Gasping for breath. Begging for more.

Hard limits: blood, bathroom stuff. Everything else is game, although obviously I want you to be as submissive as possible. Happy for this to be a chat about how you secretly crave this kind of relationship in real life, also happy to leave you a weak little mess longing for more.