Blindfolded, Bound, and Begging

My First Real Taste of Submission

I never imagined I’d end up naked on my knees in a hotel room, wrists cuffed, blindfolded, heart racing, waiting for a woman who was about to take complete control of me. But that night, when I finally met Lana, all my hidden kinky fantasies turned into raw, filthy, unstoppable reality.

I never thought I’d end up like this—on my knees in a dimly lit hotel room, wrists cuffed behind my back, blindfold tight over my eyes, heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. But that’s exactly where I was the night I finally gave in to the kinky side I’d been hiding for years.

Her name was Lana. We met on one of those discreet apps where people don’t pretend to want coffee dates. She was direct from the start: “I like control. Total control. If you’re not ready to submit, don’t waste my time.” Something about the way she wrote it—cold, confident, no bullshit—made my cock twitch before I even saw her picture. When I did see it… fuck. Long black hair, sharp green eyes, lips painted deep red, and a body that looked built for sin. Leather corset hugging her waist, thigh-high boots, a riding crop resting casually against her hip. I was hooked.

We messaged for weeks. She teased me, made me send pictures of myself hard and desperate, edged me with commands I had to follow alone in my apartment. “No touching until I say. Send proof you’re dripping for me.” I obeyed every time. I’d never been this turned on in my life. Regular sex felt boring now—vanilla, safe, predictable. I wanted more. I wanted her to break me open and use me however she damn well pleased.

The night we met, she told me to book a suite downtown, leave the door unlocked, strip naked, and wait on my knees by the foot of the bed. No hello, no small talk. Just obedience. I did exactly what she said. The room smelled faintly of expensive cologne and fresh sheets. My skin prickled with anticipation as I knelt there, completely exposed, cock already half-hard just from the humiliation of waiting like a pet.

I heard the click of her heels first—slow, deliberate steps down the hallway. Then the door opened and closed with a soft thud. Silence. She was watching me. I could feel her eyes crawling over my body, judging, owning. My breath hitched.

“Look at you,” she finally said, voice low and smoky. “Already on your knees like a good little slut. You’ve been waiting to be used, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

She laughed softly. “Good boy.”

I heard the rustle of fabric, the clink of metal. Then her fingers were in my hair—tight, pulling my head back so hard my scalp burned. She yanked the blindfold off in one rough motion. The light stung, but when my eyes adjusted, there she was—towering over me in that same leather corset, black lace panties barely covering her, boots shining under the low hotel lights. She looked like pure sex. Dangerous sex.

She leaned down, her lips brushing my ear. “Tonight you’re mine. Every hole, every moan, every drop of cum belongs to me. Understand?”

I nodded, throat dry.

She slapped me—hard across the cheek. Not enough to bruise, but enough to shock. “Use your words.”

“Yes, Mistress. I understand.”

Another smile. Cruel and beautiful.

She stepped back and slowly unzipped her corset, letting it fall open. Her tits were perfect—full, heavy, nipples already hard. She pinched one roughly, watching my reaction as I stared helplessly. “You want these, don’t you? Too bad. You haven’t earned them yet.”

She walked around me in a slow circle, trailing the tip of her riding crop along my shoulders, down my spine, over my ass. Every touch was light, teasing, threatening. When she stopped behind me, she pressed the crop between my legs from behind, lifting my balls slightly.

“Spread your knees wider.”

I did.

She nudged my heavy sack with the leather tip. “These are full, aren’t they? Been saving all that cum for me like I told you?”

“Yes, Mistress. Three weeks. No release.”

“Mmm. Good. I love a desperate man.”

She moved in front of me again and finally—finally—touched my cock. Just one slow stroke from base to tip, smearing the precum already leaking out. I groaned, hips jerking forward involuntarily.

She pulled her hand away instantly. “Did I say you could move?”

“No, Mistress. I’m sorry.”

“You’ll be sorrier if you do it again.”

Then she did something that made my whole body tense—she straddled my face without warning, lowering her soaked lace panties right onto my mouth and nose. The scent of her—musky, sweet, aroused—hit me like a drug. I couldn’t breathe anything but her pussy.

“Lick,” she ordered, grinding down slowly.

I obeyed eagerly, tongue pushing past the lace, tasting her wetness through the fabric. She moaned softly, rocking against my face, using me like a toy. Her thighs clamped around my head, boots digging into my sides. I licked harder, desperate to please her, sucking her clit through the soaked material until she grabbed my hair again and pulled me off.

“Not yet. I’m nowhere near done with you.”

She stood, peeled the panties off completely, and tossed them aside. Then she uncuffed my wrists—just long enough to push me forward onto all fours on the plush carpet.

“Stay.”

I heard her open a bag. The sound of metal, leather, lube being squeezed out. My heart raced. I’d told her my limits, my fantasies. She knew I wanted to be pushed, used raw, made to beg.

When she came back, she knelt behind me and spread my ass cheeks without ceremony. Cool lube dripped down my crack. One finger circled my tight hole, teasing.

“Such a pretty little virgin ass,” she murmured. “All mine to ruin tonight.”

I whimpered as her finger pushed in—slow, relentless. No hesitation. She worked me open with one finger, then two, scissoring, stretching. The burn was intense, but the pleasure underneath it made my cock throb against my stomach, leaking steadily onto the carpet.

“You like that, don’t you? Being opened up like a slut.”

“Yes, Mistress… fuck, yes.”

She added a third finger roughly, twisting. I gasped, pushing back without thinking.

“Greedy already. You’re going to take so much more.”

She pulled her fingers out suddenly, leaving me empty and clenching around nothing. Then I felt something cold and hard—metal. A plug. Bigger than anything I’d used alone.

“Relax, pet. Or it’s going in dry.”

I tried to breathe, to relax. She pressed the tip against me, steady pressure. It burned, stretched, forced its way past the ring of muscle until—pop—it seated deep inside me. I groaned loud, forehead pressed to the carpet.

She patted my ass like I was a good dog. “There. Now you’re properly filled.”

Then she cuffed my wrists again—behind my back this time—and attached a leash to the collar I hadn’t even noticed her buckle around my neck while I was face-down.

“Up.”

She tugged the leash, forcing me to my feet. My legs shook. The plug shifted with every movement, pressing against my prostate, making me leak even more. She led me to the bed like an animal and pushed me face-down across it, ass in the air.

I heard the click of her phone camera.

“Evidence,” she said casually. “So you remember who owns this hole.”

I should’ve been embarrassed. Instead I was harder than ever.

She climbed onto the bed behind me, and I felt her strap-on—thick, silicone, slick with lube—press against the base of the plug.

“Time to upgrade.”

She pulled the plug out slowly, making me feel every ridge. Then, before I could adjust, she pushed the head of the dildo into me. Bigger. Much bigger. I cried out, fingers clawing at the sheets behind my back.

“Take it,” she growled, one hand gripping my hip hard enough to bruise. “You begged for kinky sex, remember? This is what you wanted—being fucked raw like a desperate whore.”

She didn’t ease in. She thrust deep in one long stroke, burying herself to the hilt. I screamed into the mattress, pain and pleasure exploding together. She gave me no time to adjust—just started fucking me hard, hips slapping against my ass, the harness grinding against her clit with every thrust.

The room filled with filthy sounds—wet slapping, my moans, her grunts of pleasure, the creak of the bed. She yanked the leash, arching my back, using my body like a fucktoy.

“You feel that?” she hissed. “That’s me owning your ass. Every inch of you is mine tonight.”

I couldn’t form words anymore—just broken moans and whimpers. My cock swung heavy beneath me, dripping long strings of precum onto the sheets. She reached around and wrapped her hand around it—finally touching me again.

But she didn’t stroke. She squeezed hard at the base.

“No cumming until I say. You come without permission, and I’ll lock that cock in chastity for a month.”

I sobbed with need. “Please… Mistress, please…”

“Please what?”

“Please let me cum… I’ll do anything…”

She laughed, pounding me harder. “Anything? Then beg properly.”

I broke. “Please, Mistress, I’m your dirty little slut, your fuckhole, your toy—please let me cum while you fuck my ass raw, I need it so bad—”

She slammed deep and held there, grinding. Then she started stroking me—fast, rough, no mercy.

“Cum for me. Now.”

I exploded instantly, harder than I ever had in my life. Rope after rope shot out, splattering the sheets, my stomach, the bed. My whole body shook violently, ass clenching around her cock as she kept thrusting through my orgasm, drawing it out until I was sobbing from overstimulation.

But she wasn’t done.

She pulled out slowly, leaving me gaping and trembling. Then she flipped me onto my back—cuffs still on, legs spread wide. My spent cock lay soft against my thigh, cum cooling on my skin.

She climbed over me, straddling my chest, her pussy hovering just above my face—swollen, glistening from how turned on dominating me had made her.

“My turn.”

She lowered herself onto my mouth again, this time completely bare. I licked hungrily, tasting how wet she was, sucking her clit, sliding my tongue inside her as deep as I could. She rode my face hard, grinding, smothering me. Her hands pinched my nipples viciously, twisting until I moaned into her cunt.

“That’s it… clean up the mess you made me make… fuck, your tongue feels so good after wrecking your ass…”

She came fast and hard, thighs clamping around my head, juices flooding my mouth as she cried out—a sharp, raw sound that made my cock twitch again despite being drained.

When she finally climbed off, she looked down at me with satisfied eyes.

“You did well, pet. But we’re not finished.”

She uncuffed me, rubbed my wrists gently for a moment—unexpected tenderness that made something in my chest ache. Then she pushed me onto my side and spooned behind me, the strap-on still on, pressing between my cheeks.

“Sleep,” she whispered against my neck. “Because tomorrow morning, I’m waking you up with my cock again. And this time, I’m not stopping until you’re begging me to ruin you completely.”

I closed my eyes, body sore, mind blissed out, ass still throbbing around nothing now. I’d never felt so used. So owned. So fucking alive.

And I already knew—I’d crawl back to her on my knees any time she snapped her fingers.

That was just the beginning. Over the next months, Lana pushed me deeper into the kinky world I’d only fantasized about. She introduced chastity—locking my cock in a steel cage for days, sometimes weeks, only letting me out to edge me mercilessly or fuck me until I cried. She brought toys I’d never imagined: sounding rods sliding into my urethra while she jerked me off, nipple clamps chained to a leash she’d tug while I ate her out, electro pads on my balls that made me scream and cum at the same time.

One weekend she blindfolded me, drove me somewhere I didn’t know, and led me into a room where three of her friends—dominant women just like her—were waiting. They took turns using my mouth, my ass, my cock. I was nothing but holes and desperation that night, covered in cum, spit, and their scent by the end. I came so many times I passed out.

Another time she tied me spread-eagle to the bed, dripped hot wax across my chest and thighs, then fucked my face until she squirted down my throat. She loved making me drink her—standing over me, fingers in my hair, forcing me to swallow every drop.

The dirtier it got, the more I craved it. Regular life felt gray compared to the raw, animal intensity of submitting to her. She trained me to crave pain with pleasure, humiliation with release. I’d drop to my knees the second she texted “Now.” I’d edge for hours watching the videos she made of me—bound, gagged, plugged, begging.

I was addicted. Completely. Utterly.

And I never wanted to go back.