With a knot in my stomach, I took a step towards him, feeling the tension in the air. I got close enough for our bodies to almost touch. He looked at me intensely, his dark eyes filled with desire. In an instant, his face moved closer to mine and whispered something in my ear, but the words were a confusing murmur, as if they were playing with my mind. The mix of his warm breath and the mystery of his message left me dazed.

"Get dressed," he said, stepping back from me and giving me a light push towards the sofa. "I want you to get ready. We're going out to dinner tonight."

The firmness of his voice, mixed with the almost childish tone of his request, made a blend of excitement and confusion run through my body. Not knowing exactly how, I got up and dressed again, feeling the fabric brushing against my skin as if each garment was a reminder of the vulnerability I had fallen into.

When I was finally ready, he looked at me with a satisfied smile, as if I had completed a small ritual.

"Very good, good boy." He winked at me, and the way he said it made me feel like a child needing approval. There was something in his gaze that told me this dinner would not just be another outing.

He took my hand and led me to the door, where I paused for a moment, sensing the uncertainty in the air. But his grip was firm, and I couldn’t deny it: I wanted to be by his side.

As we exited his house, the cool night air enveloped me, but soon the warmth of his presence made me forget the breeze. We headed to an upscale restaurant, one I had seen in magazines, with dim lights and a sophisticated atmosphere. As we approached, the opulence of the place overwhelmed me.

Upon entering, an elegant maitre d' approached, and he greeted him with a familiar gesture. The way he looked at him, with a mix of respect and superiority, made my heart race.

"I reserved a table," he said, his tone confident, almost authoritative. As he led us to our table, I felt how his hand guided me with a softness that contrasted with the dominance he exerted over me.

At the table, he made me sit before settling across from me. The menu was filled with exquisite dishes, and as I tried to decide what to order, he had already made his choice.

"I ordered for you," he said, with a teasing smile. "I want you to try something special."

I felt a pang of discomfort realizing he was making decisions for me. As the maitre d' approached, I realized there was something unsettling about the way he behaved, as if he were enjoying my discomfort.

“Good evening, gentlemen. Are you ready to order?” the maitre d' asked, with an air of professionalism.

“Yes, of course,” he replied, then looking at me, continued. “My friend here has a very particular taste, so I’m sure he’ll enjoy what I’ve chosen.”

The maitre d' smiled and gave me a scrutinizing look, and in that instant, I felt l...