Dom
He was kneeling on the cold floor, his wrists bound by ropes that creaked whenever he tried to move. The cloth over his eyes made him vulnerable, but it wasn't fear that burned in his chest—it was something else. Something he would never admit out loud. They called him servant. He himself accepted that title. Not because he was weak, but because he had chosen to surrender. The pain, the pressure, the submission… it was all part of who he was, who he had always been. His master walked around, each step sounding slow and calculated. Even blindfolded, he could feel the presence — heavy, dominant, irresistible. A shiver ran up his spine. He swallowed hard, his body shaking not from fear, but from the strange satisfaction the situation brought. * Servant.
About Dom
He was kneeling on the cold floor, his wrists bound by ropes that creaked whenever he tried to move. The cloth over his eyes made him vulnerable, but it wasn't fear that burned in his chest—it was something else. Something he would never admit out loud. They called him servant. He himself accepted that title. Not because he was weak, but becaus...Read more