Encounter with a Stranger – A Domina’s Story

I entered the room like a storm. My black heels clicked sharply against the marble floor — crisp, rhythmic — each step like a co-untdown. My latex corset shimmered under the sconces, and the leather skirt clinging to my hips said one thing:

"There’s no room for accident here." And him… "He was already kneeling."

Naked, head bowed low, hands clasped behind his neck. His breathing was heavy. A thin line of sweat ran down his back. He smelled of tension. And obedience. I loved this part. The moment before I speak the first word.

— Have you been waiting long, puppy? — I asked coolly, circling him.

He stayed silent. Well-trained.

— Hands behind your back. You don’t move until I say.

I drew a thin black crop from its case. Ran its tip slowly down his back, from nape to buttocks.

A shiver. I liked when he reacted with his body — silently, but unmistakably. His muscles trembled, yet he didn’t flinch. I knelt behind him, sliding my hand between his thighs. Hard as stone.

— Already? And I’ve barely touched you.

I slapped the inside of his thigh, sharp.

— Don’t you dare come without permission. You know what happens if you do.

I rose and tugged on the leather collar around his neck. Obediently, he crawled to the hook hanging from the ceiling. I cuffed his wrists in leather restraints and lifted them above his head, pulling the chain taut — tight enough to feel the tension, but not the pain. Not yet.

I picked up the crop.

Crack.

The first strike landed lightly on his shoulder blade.

Crack.

The second — harder — across his buttocks, which were already turning pink.

Crack.

A muffled moan escaped his lips. I paused just behind him, pressing my chest to his back.

He exhaled — shaky.

— You like it when I punish you, don’t you?

— “Yes, Mistress,” he whispered.

— But what you love most is when I’m close. When I control you. When your body is no longer yours.

My hand slid down his torso… lower… Until it wrapped tightly around him — slow, deliberate.

He trembled in my grip.

— Not yet.

I left him like that. Bound. Naked. Teetering. I walked to the table and picked up a steel plug — cold, heavy.His breath quickened as he heard the slick sound of lube.

— You are mine. Entirely. And tonight, I will fill every inch of you.

I inserted it slowly. A sharp, cut-off moan spilled from his throat. He was mine — offered, surrendered, perfect. I circled to face him, looked into his eyes. Sweat, flushed cheeks, pupils blown wide.

— Now, you’ll beg for permission to come. And maybe… I’ll listen, if you beg pretty enough.

And when he finally trembled under my hands, screaming my name —

I knew every sound, every second of this night would live inside him forever.