Stroking for my pleasure

I presented the bracelet I had purchased just for him, a thick piece of mahogany colored leather with antique buckles. He smiled warmly and I knew that I had done well matching his style. However, before placing it on his wrist, I reminded him that when wearing this, it meant that he was in the role of my submissive—he was mine to control and his purpose was to fulfill my needs, obey my commands, accept my domination and please my desire.

I added that he would remain silent and could raise a hand if he had a suggestion or question. This last requirement proved the best that he even admitted was tough to not interject. 

He needed to fully comply with my requirements if we both wanted to enter this space of power exchange. If I was being second guessed I would have not been able to perform. At several points I told him to kneel facing away from me so he wouldn’t try to seduce me out of my power, my creation with his eyes and boyish charm. 

I was chosen by him, this dignified member of the community, to be entirely in charge of him. He knew I was fully capable when he selected me. I knew I was capable and ready for the challenge, especially because I took the time to get to know more than just his safe word. 

We had spent hours in bed doing vanilla things and more hours in conversation about what we wanted to explore, our limits and edges and our extensive and nuanced desires. What I created with that knowledge and within our space was where the true art began. He was the canvas, the paints and the brush and I was the painter.

He agreed with all of it. I asked if he was ready to go into role. He said “yes” and I snapped my fingers. I told him to let the feeling wash over him, take a few deep breaths and then open his eyes when in role. He complied...

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