His rules, her choice – the game begins with a word

They met by chance, among hundreds of profiles on bdsmclub.com - it was her message that first caught his attention. Lana was new there. Not naive – just curious. She had her own desires, long hidden beneath the layers of everyday life. She knew she was missing something – depth, control, mindfulness. She wasn't interested in chaos or aimless brutality.

Cole was... different. His profile was simple, but the specific words attracted her: Rules. Structure. Consent. The game begins with a word.

They talked for weeks. They set boundaries. Lana asked questions. Cole answered with patience and calmness that affected her more strongly than anything physical.

When they met for the first time, in his apartment, everything was clear.

The game begins with a word. And she said it.

- Yes.

Cole didn't approach her right away. Lana stood at the entrance, wearing a simple dress and high heels. He looked at her, saying nothing for a long moment. The silence wasn't awkward. It was part of the tension.

- Tell me who your body belongs to now, Lana.

- To you. - she replied quietly, clearly.

He nodded.

- Undress. Slowly. Stop if you feel any doubt, even for a moment.

She didn't stop. Every movement was a choice. Every item of clothing she slipped off her body was like a manifesto. When she stood naked before him, her skin was already burning with her own thoughts.

Cole approached her. He gently ran his fingers along her shoulder. Then her neck. He stopped at her lips. He didn't kiss her. He just looked at her.

- Kneel.

She did. Without hesitation.

He handed her a thin black belt—the material was smooth and cool. She tied her wrists with it her-self. It was her choice. Her decision. He just watched, and his silence spoke louder than any com-mand.

He laid her down on the soft upholstery of a bench attached to the floor. A well-kept space, carefully prepared. This was not a scene for fun. It was ritualistic. Intimate.

He started with a feather. He moved it along her spine, between her shoulder blades, along her thighs. Lana moaned softly—it didn't hurt. It awakened every sense.

And then a slap. Not hard. But confident. Cole's hand fell on her buttock with a sound that resona-ted deeper than an echo. A second slap. A third. Her body danced between pain and desire.

- You're responding beautifully. - he said quietly. - But we're just getting started.

He slid two fingers inside her. Lana was already hot, wet, open. All ready. She didn't scream. She didn't have to. Her moans were deep, soft, real.

His tongue took care of her clitoris—slowly, methodically. He took his time. Lana tried to move her hips, but Cole held her down with one hand. His dominance was calm. Stable. And unquestionable.

- Now I decide when. - he reminded her.

She felt the tension building inside her. She wanted to beg. But she didn't have to. He read her wi-thout words.

He let her come only when she began to tremble all over. The orgasm washed over her like a wave. It swept away her thoughts. It washed everything away.

Afterwards, he untied her hands and covered her with a blanket. He hugged her without saying a word. Lana melted into his arms, breathing quietly.

She knew one thing: everything that had happened was her choice. But it was he who gave her the space to open up like that.

The game had only just begun. But each of her “YES” meant more than a thousand gestures.