Chapter 2

I spent hours browsing the site in my free time, scrolling through profile after profile, reading stories, fantasizing about what could be. It was like a secret world, one that let me know I wasn’t alone in what I needed. There were so many guys out there who wanted the same things I did. Rough hands, tight ropes, paddles striking bare skin, each description made my cock twitch in response, my body aching for it even as my mind lingered in disbelief at how vivid it all felt.

One story caught my attention, and I found myself reading it twice, unable to stop. It described a submissive tied to a bench, his ass raised, while his Dom whipped him red before fucking him raw. Every detail was sharp in my imagination, the crack of the leather, the burn spreading across bare skin, the way the sub begged for more even as tears ran down his face. My hand slipped under the towel as I gripped myself, my breath catching and my hips shifting slightly as if I could feel every moment through the words alone.

The site functioned much like other hookup apps, with green dots lighting up profiles of those online. As soon as I logged in, my DMs got flooded with messages from guys I didn’t know, crude and direct. One included a dick picture, thick and hard, with a simple, blunt question. “Do you want a taste of this?”

“Get on your knees for me, boy,” another demanded.

“Come over and let me cage you while I fuck your hole deeply,” yet another typed, his words dripping with intention.

My mouth watered, my hole clenching with desire as I imagined it. Kneeling on the floor, with my lips wrapping around a stranger’s cock. Bent over, helpless and trapped in a cage as he claimed me entirely. And yet, I closed the messages quickly, not because I didn’t crave every word of what they offered, because I did, but because I wouldn’t submit to just anyone flashing their cock at me. I needed more than that.

Connection came first to me, then words that built trust, a voice that commanded naturally, without fakeness or pretense. Maybe a conversation first, maybe over coffee for a few hours, and maybe days of talking to feel the pull. Only then would I consider pictures or anything more. Random hookups had never satisfied the deeper itch inside me.

I continued my search, scrolling profiles of Doms, filtering by age, looks, kinks, anything that hinted at maturity, experience and control. I wanted men in their late forties who were older, strong and seasoned. I wanted rough hands, bondage experience, spanking, and total control. Each profile I scrolled past made my pulse quicken, my imagination wandering. My fantasies flooded in with me kneeling in a dimly lit room, wrists bound behind my back, a collar snapping snugly around my neck.

“Crawl to me” the Dom would say, his boot nudging my side. I'd move slowly, my ass high and cock swinging hard between my legs. He'd grab the leash, yank me close, and force his thick cock down my throat until I gagged, spit dripping down my chin.

One profile caught my eye finally, the name was Dominanttothecore. It stood out to me and something about it felt solid and real, like there were no games here, just pure command. I clicked without a second thought, my pulse thumping in my ears. The page loaded slowly, but when it did, I leaned in close, my eyes glued to every word.

The profile opened up, and right there at the top, the person had written something that grabbed me by the throat.

“I’ll fuck you with my words just as passionately as I would with my body. I won’t just touch you but I’ll take over your mind, slowly, until all you can feel is me. My words will wrap around you, pulling you closer, making you crave every second of my control. I’ll make you feel things you didn’t even know you were capable of, just from the way I look at you… and speak to you.”

A shiver ran down my spine, straight to my cock, making it twitch and swell under the thin sheet I’d pulled over me. I could almost hear his voice in my mind, deep, commanding, promising to break me open with nothing but words. My hole clenched tightly, aching for attention already. I pictured him towering over me, hands pinning my wrists above my head while his lips whispered those words hot against my ear. Then his thick cock would be inside me, slow at first, making me beg for more, until I was a trembling, desperate mess.

There was no face pic on his profile, which matched mine. I kept my own face hidden too, not wanting strangers to know who I was right away. There were no dick photos either, thank God. That kind of shit turned me off fast because guys waving their cocks around like that felt cheap and desperate. Instead, he had a shot of his chest, broad and hairy, his muscles defined from years of taking control. Another picture showed his hand gripping a crop, the leather tip pointed like it was ready to snap against a bare skin. Then there were photos of his toys, from thick leather cuffs that would bite into my wrists, to a paddle with holes to make each smack sting deeper, and ropes coiled tight for binding me spread wide. There was also a metal cage just big enough to kneel in, my cock locked away while he watched me squirm. And plugs, big ones that would stretch my ass until I whimpered.

He listed his kinks and it was heavy bondage, spanking till you bruise, verbal humiliation, full power exchange where I handed over everything. My cock hardened full as I read, straining against the towel. I pictured myself there, in his world, tied spread to a bed, his hand coming down hard on my ass, each smack echoing loudly.

“Count them.” He'd growl, and I'd gasp out the numbers, my skin on fire and my hole twitching for what came next. Or on my knees, mouth open wide as he slapped his cock against my face, calling me his dirty little slut before shoving in deep.

More photos loaded and what looked like his play space showed. A room with black walls, with chains hanging from the ceiling, and a wooden cross for strapping down. Shelves full of toys loaded with thick leather cuffs, more paddles, dildos in all sizes and more plugs that looked brutal. There were no faces in those shots, but the setup screamed control. I zoomed in on the floggers, imagining the tails whipping across my back, leaving red stripes that burned for days. My hand moved on its own, stroking myself slowly, pre-cum slicking my palm. What would it feel like to be locked in that cage, naked and waiting, with his footsteps approaching?

I kept reading, heart racing faster. He had a list of rules for subs and that was to address him as Dom always, no touching yourself without permission, and daily tasks to prove devotion. One entry talked about a scene he'd done, binding a guy, edging him for hours with a vibrator on his cock, denying him release until he begged to be broken. Then, finally, fucking him rough while the viberator still buzzed inside him. Reading those words made me leak, my hole aching, empty and desperate.

I wanted that denial, the slow build, the flood of release, the overwhelming sensation of being taken hard and completely, without mercy.