Category: Stories
-
The Ritual Begins
In the bathroom, I place a folded cloth on the countertop, just within his line of sight. The smallest details matter. The arrangement of objects, the way each tool catches the light, the balance of textures.
-
Becoming the Dog
The muzzle shapes to his jawline and cheekbones, fitting snugly, the silicone pressing against his skin. I guide the O-ring gag into his mouth, holding it open, locking him into a state of silence and restraint.
-
A Straight Man’s Journey
This was his first time being so exposed in the company of only one other man. A straight man who had always taken pride in his composure, his control, his ability to lead and protect. But here, in this room, he had chosen to surrender.
-
Into the Unknown
For a moment, he relaxes, settling into the discomfort, accepting it, letting it wash over him. Just as he does, I lean close and exhale softly, the faintest trace of warmth against his neck. It’s gone before he can process it, replaced by silence, by emptiness.
-
The Locking Ceremony
The second item waits, its design both intricate and imposing. The plug locks into place with nearly eighty turns of its screw, the wings opening inside him like a blooming flower. Its presence within him is undeniable.
-
A Breath of Release
A straight man, stripped of his usual armour. His shirt had been removed, leaving his chest bare, his skin faintly flushed under the warmth of the room. His jeans clung tightly to his body, framing the faint bulge at his groin. He was barefoot, his toes curling slightly against the…
-
The Icebound Rhapsody
He knelt, his eyes covered by a blindfold of duct tape, his world reduced to touch and sound. I guided him, letting him feel the contours of the gear, the hard shell, the soft padding underneath. His breath quickened with each touch, the mental image of the hockey player taking…
-
Into the Cold
The water is cold, untouched by any warmth at all, but it doesn’t rush in. It rises deliberately, slowly, like a tide, inch by inch, climbing up his body. The initial chill creeps over his heels, then licks at his ankles, touching his buttocks.
-
The Rite of Wax
He feels each letter as it’s formed, the warmth seeping into him, the silence between each drop a reminder of the trust, the choice, the depth of the experience he’s embraced.
-
The Observer’s Chair
The observer’s breathing quickens as he watches me deepen the DRK state with the main client, each knot of rope, each touch, enhancing the layered tension in the room. His view changes as I continue to adjust his chair.
-
Bound by Shadows
The floor beneath him is cold, a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from his body. He shifts slightly, his toes curling against the unyielding stone, his stance steady but tense. Above him, the lead hangs from the wooden beam, its chain taut.
-
Embracing the Wild
Submission is often misunderstood. It’s not weakness, nor is it a loss of self. When you’ve spent your entire day or week being the one in charge submission becomes a release, a way to temporarily escape the constant demands of control.