Oh God, I’m so scared! Deep down, I believe he won’t hurt me—he promised, after all—but I’m still trembling from head to toe. We’re going upstairs, not into some dungeon… but maybe his “red room” is on the second floor? Such an enormous door… What could possibly be behind it?
Scenes from films and books flash through my mind. He opens the door and… it’s just a room. A perfectly ordinary hall. Nothing terrifying at all. Though I do notice several more doors.
He opens one of them and tells me to go in first. I can’t see a thing—it’s dark, and only in the distance do I make out a vague white shape, enormous and indistinct.
Slowly, the lights come on, one by one, and I find myself standing in a pool of soft light. The floor beneath my feet is dark redwood—I can feel its warmth even through my socks.
As my eyes adjust, I realise I’m in a huge room. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a leather sofa—elegant, minimal—and a sideboard with glass doors, something glinting inside.
The mysterious white shape ahead of me turns out to be a giant bed—vast and likely deliciously comfortable. There’s nothing frightening or cruel here. Just space… and something else I can’t name.
But I don’t have time to take in any more before a barrage of commands hits me like a sudden gust of wind: “Back straight! Feet together! Hands at your sides! Look down!"
They come so quickly I can barely keep up—and then I feel a sudden smack below the small of my back. It doesn’t hurt, not really, but it catches me off guard. I yelp and flinch, startled.
I snap to attention. Arms pressed tightly to my sides, eyes on the floor. And all the while, I feel the tension inside me coiling tighter and tighter.
It’s so hard to say those words—Slave… Sir… punishment—but each one makes my lower belly grow heavier, hotter, needier. My heart is hammering like mad!
He orders me to my knees! I can feel the rush of heat to my face, but my legs obey without hesitation. I lower myself—awkwardly, stiffly—and the position is immediately uncomfortable, even painful.
I clasp my hands behind my back as instructed. The moment my wrists touch my bottom, a fresh wave of sweet, aching tension sweeps through me. It’s as though I’m already shielding myself from the blows. There’s something devastating and exquisite in this one simple gesture. “Punishment position.” Even the phrase makes me shudder…
