Submission by Choice — A Night I’ll Never Forget

I never thought I’d do it. That I’d say that word — yes — so softly, yet with such trembling between my thighs. It was my yes to something beyond sex. It was a yes to surrendering control. To crossing a line I had only ever read about — cheeks flushed, fingers buried between my legs.

I met him in a place where glances meant more than words. He called himself simply Sir. And when his eyes landed on me, I knew — he would undress me. First of my shame. Then of my resistance.

He invited me to his place. Didn’t order — invited. And that was the worst part. Because I wanted to go.

The door closed behind me without a sound. The space was cool, minimalist, dominated by leather, metal, and silence. My heart raced. I wore a lace bodysuit under a long coat — just as he’d instructed. And nothing else.

- Take it off, - he said, not moving an inch.

I let the coat slip from my shoulders, let it fall to the floor. I stood before him — still in lace, but feeling utterly naked. His gaze was a touch: cold, assessing, confident.

- Good. Kneel.

I did, without a word. I felt my knees sink into the soft carpet, my body beginning to calm — as if relieved it no longer had to decide. I wasn’t in charge anymore.

He approached slowly. I heard him unroll something — rope? Leather strap? A loop of soft leather slid over my wrists. He bound me with practiced ease. Not too tight. Not too loose. Perfect. As if he’d known me for years.

Then came the blindfold.

And with it, the rest of the world disappeared. The touch of his hand on the back of my neck — firm, yet warm. He gently pulled me forward, guiding me onto a padded bench. Hands behind my back, body open, waiting. I felt cool oil on my skin — he spread it slowly, deliberately, massaging it into my thighs, my back, my hips. Every stroke whispered something.

And then came the first strike.

It didn’t hurt. It wasn’t meant to. It was a rhythm — a pulse between pleasure and tension. His hand spanked, then caressed. Guided. Teased. I screamed only inside — from arousal. He had all of me. And he knew what to do with it.

He leaned down, lips near my ear.

- Is this what you want? Do you truly want to be mine?

- Yes, Sir, - I whispered. And I felt it — this was no longer a game.

He gently pulled my hair, lifting me slightly.

The collar he’d placed earlier tightened just a little.

It didn’t hurt. On the contrary — I felt... his. Completely. And there was nowhere else I wanted to be.

At one point, he lifted me, laying me on my back across him. Still blindfolded. Exposed. Bound. Vulnerable — and never before so full. Every one of his movements was deliberate. Calm. Carrying me to the edge. He didn’t rush. And he didn’t let me fall… until he chose to.

And when he finally spoke one word — “now” — my whole body erupted. Not just in orgasm, but in something far greater. In complete surrender.

When he took off the blindfold, I looked into his eyes. There were no questions in them. Only certainty. And warmth. Power and tenderness — two things I thought could never coexist.

But not with Him. I will never forget that night.

Because now… I know who I belong to.