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I thought I was submissive — that the bliss found in surrender was all I needed to know. But I dabbled in dominance, and something about wielding power pulled me. So down I descend into a world where I am queen, and I demand whatever the fuck I want.

A Basement Dungeon

He asked to be a slave and offered up his dungeon for my use. He was my photographer until I put a collar on him, tied him to a bed, and made him read a story. When I felt like it, I sprawled just out of his reach and let him fawn for me, stretching at the fibers that held him bound. I inched forward slowly until his hands could reach my feet, my knees, and finally the crests of my thighs — but nothing more.

A Good Boy

I said, “call me Lady Lila,” and he switched into good boy mode in a flash, a turn in the conversation that I hadn’t expected from this other one.

Pictures were demanded. He sent them. I made him leave the gym, mid-workout. He rushed home and called me on video as I had directed. My eyes devoured his form, 6’8″ of sculpted man. He stroked himself, and I parted my lips with a rose-tipped glass wand while watching his strong hands on a big cock.

“Can I cum, Lady Lila?” He begged, pleasure riding on his voice.

“No! Wait until I finish,” I ordered with a moan. He obeyed, and he didn’t have to wait long. Desire and lust were strung in my body like an arrow in a fresh bow. Release shot through me, leaving moans and panting breaths in its wake. Only then did I allow him to cum.