She remembered the first time she was told, “Kneel.”
It had come as a surprise. They’d been playing around in bed, undressing each other, kissing, toucing; usually a prelude to sex, but this time…
“Kneel.”
She’d done as she was told. On her knees, on the bed, hands at her sides, watching attentively, wondering what the next command would be.
It made her tingle all over, the idea of obeying commands. That was funny—she’d never really thought of it before. But it touched something deep inside, when her partner said, “Kneel,” and she had, without thinking, obeyed.
She’d given them control, just for a moment. And now she couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to give them control for longer…
That first time she’d knelt seemed like so long ago.
Now she spent her nights leashed, clad in leather unless she was told to be nude, begging to be bound, cuffed, restrained… and tormented. She didn’t want to spread her legs, she wanted them forced apart, and then held that way with a metal bar.
She wanted to beg and moan and feel her body betray her slowly and deliciously and inevitably as her partner’s fingers and mouth and toys forced orgasm after orgasm out of her.
She wanted to feel her hips buck and her thighs shudder uncontrollably. Her body belonged to her Owner, and they would use it to manipulate her, to torment her, to condition her…
To make her crave things she hadn’t even imagined yet. To make her even more of a slave than she already was.
Wearing a collar, a leash, leather, cuffs: they were hot parts of the sexplay, yes. But knowing she was bound even more tightly inside her mind, where it counted—where she could never, ever break free—that was the hottest thing of all.
Better than sex, more important: submission.
She had never known she wanted it. But now she wanted nothing else.