Chris had always thought of himself as straight. Married, two kids, doing okay for himself at work. He loved his wife Julia, he still did but love and desire had started drifting apart in quiet, unfamiliar ways.
It began with thoughts. Not just curiosity, but hunger. Hunger for something he didn’t have words for. And when he found himself one night watching a video of two men, one of them tied down, the other whispering commands, Chris realised this wasn’t a phase. He wasn’t just fantasising about men, he was fantasising about giving up control to one.
He met Aaron on a discreet app, a man with dark eyes, a calm presence, and a profile that read: “Dominant. Patient. Experienced.” Their first conversation had been cautious, then deeper than Chris expected. Aaron didn’t pressure him; he listened. Asked questions like, “Are you curious about being touched, or about being owned?”
Chris replied, “Both. I think.”
When they met, it was in a private studio Aaron kept, soft lighting, leather furniture, clean equipment on the walls that made Chris swallow hard. Nothing felt unsafe, just… real. This wasn’t a fantasy anymore.
“Red means stop,” Aaron said, standing close. “Yellow means slow. Green means go.” He reached up and cupped Chris’s cheek. “You say the colour. I listen. Understood?”
Chris nodded, breath shallow. “Yes, Sir.”
The word came out before he thought about it, and Aaron smiled. “That’s a good start.”
Aaron had him undress slowly, watching with eyes that felt like touch. Chris felt exposed, but not judged. When Aaron told him to kneel, he obeyed. His body buzzed with anticipation and fear, but there was something deeply safe in the surrender.
Aaron bound his wrists behind his back with soft leather cuffs. Nothing too tight, just enough to make Chris feel held, not trapped.
“You're beautiful when you let go,” Aaron whispered, brushing fingers over Chris’s chest, down to his belt. “Tell me how this feels.”
Chris gasped when Aaron took him in his hand, firm, warm, in control. “It feels…” he struggled to speak, “...right.”
Aaron took his time, teasing and edging, never letting Chris take the lead. When he kissed him, it wasn’t soft, it was possessive, commanding. Chris moaned into his mouth, desperate and unashamed.
Eventually, Aaron guided him onto the bed, straddled him, whispered filth and praise in his ear as he worked his body open with lube and fingers, all while keeping eye contact. Chris had never felt so seen, or so completely undone.
When Aaron finally pressed inside him, slow and relentless, Chris cried out. Not in pain, but in overwhelming relief. Like something buried had been cracked open.
“You're mine right now,” Aaron growled. “And you're going to come like this. Stretched, filled, bound.”
Chris didn’t last long. He came untouched, shaking with the force of it, breathless like he’d run a marathon.
Aaron untied him afterward and pulled him into his arms. “How do you feel?”
Chris laughed breathlessly. “Like I’ve been lied to my whole life.”
Aaron just held him closer. “No. You were just waiting for someone to ask the right question.” |
