As he walked into the dimly lit room, shadows danced across the walls, and the scent of leather and sweat wafted through the air.
She was waiting for him, bound and submissive, her eyes fixed on him, hungry with desire. He was towering over her, a dominant force, ready to snatch the reins of control and lead her on a journey of pleasure and pain.
With a firm hand, he pulled her up and ripped off her clothes, exposing her curves and soft skin. He marvelled at the sight, hungering for her body.
The power struggle had begun. But they both knew that this was a dance they had practised for years, a push and pull, with each taking turns to be the master and the slave.
He began by circling her, his eyes never leaving her, assessing her body for any sign of weakness. Her breath quickened, and she closed her eyes, anticipating what was to come.
Without warning, he slammed into her, his hard member impaling her depths. She gasped, the sudden assault taking her breath away. But she didn’t want to surrender so quickly, and so she began to push back, meeting his thrusts with equal force.
Their bodies collided, heat rising between them, sweat glistening on their skin. Moments passed, and each moment was filled with an electric spark of pleasure and pain.
He pulled her by the hair, whispering into her ear, his voice deep and demanding. She was his toy, and he would play with her until he was satisfied.
Her eyes met his, and she saw that look, the one which promised her all of his desires, as long as she submitted wholly to him.
And she did. She surrendered to him, and he took her to heights she had never been before. The power struggle was over, and now they were bound by their mutual submission, both fulfilled and sated.
As he lay by her side, glorying in the aftermath of their play, he whispered into her ear, “You are mine, and I am yours. Always and forever.”
She smiled and nestled into his arms, content and happy, knowing full well that the power struggle of a dominant couple was one that she would at all times enjoy.