Behind the door of the red room

We met on bdsmclub.com. I'm not the kind of woman who wastes time on random guys from the internet. But Daniel was different. There was submission in his eyes. Real submission. Not the fake, pushy kind. He wrote to me with respect, but also with a tension that I could feel between the words.

We met after three weeks of conversations in which we established everything — boundaries, safety words, fetishes, dreams. He was thorough. Obedient. Curious.

I told him then:

-“If you enter my red room, leave your ego at the door. There will be no room for ‘maybe’ there. Only for ‘yes, Mistress.’”

He arrived on time. In black pants, no underwear — as I had instructed. We didn't exchange a word in the stairwell. I opened the door wearing a red corset and stockings. My heels tapped on the floor like a metronome setting the rhythm of submission.

I closed the door.

He looked at me like a hungry dog. And then he fell to his knees. Just as I wanted.

-“Good,” - I said. - “We'll see if your body is as obedient as your words.”

I led him into the room. Red walls. Black curtains. A whip, handcuffs, a table with soft leather, mirrors on the ceiling. And me — his Mistress, ready to mold him like clay.

I undressed him slowly. I watched his breathing quicken with each item of clothing I removed.

-“Stand up. Hands behind your back. Don't touch. Don't move.”

I put a leather collar on him.

Then I yanked it, pulling him toward me. Our bodies were almost touching.

I kissed him hard, brutally, biting his lip.

-“You are mine. You can only feel anything at my command. Do you understand?”

He nodded.

I secured him to the frame on the wall. His arms stretched out, his legs slightly apart. He was already hard then — swollen with anticipation.

I took a feather. I ran it over his stomach, neck, thighs. Then I replaced it with a cool chain. He trembled.

And then... there was the whip. Gently. At first like a caress. Then harder. He groaned, but did not moan.

-“Good boy. But can you take it when I touch you the way you want me to? And at the same time, I won't let you come?”

I started caressing him. With my hand. With my mouth. I stopped just before he climaxed. Every time he was close, I told him to stop. He was almost crying with tension.

-“You're not here to be in control. You're here to serve me. But if you say ‘please’ now, I might let you feel what it's like inside me.”

He looked me in the eyes.

-“Please, Mistress.”

I released him. I mounted him, clamping down on him like a steel grip. The movements were mine. The pace was mine. All he had to do was lie there, feel, tremble, and serve.

He finished when I let him. With a guttural cry.

And then he kissed my hand.

-“You're doing well, Daniel.”

I ran my fingernail across his chest.

-“Maybe someday I'll let you tie me up. But only when you really deserve it.”