"Damn, this is crazy. What the fuck am I doing?"

My head was spinning with what I was doing, what I was going to do, or what I was going to let them do to me - it didn't matter.

I was walking in Madrid, heading to one of those clubs where guys gather to fuck. But I wasn't going to fuck exactly. Well, yes, I was. Or not, it depends. All I knew was that if everything went as planned, I would leave that club hours later, even hotter than when I entered. And that was already a lot: I had been wearing a chastity cage for a week, with the keys locked in a box I couldn't open, controlled remotely by a guy whose name I didn't even know.

I arrived at the place with plenty of time to spare. I registered at the entrance, undressed in front of a locker, and was left with just an orange jockstrap, the cage underneath, a watch, and nothing else. I don't have a particularly great body. For me, presenting myself like that in public, surrounded by hot guys, was an effort, almost a humiliation.

I felt nervous as I went down the stairs at the agreed-upon hour. I headed to the back, turned left, went to the back again, turned left again, passed through the maze, and reached the dark room. I stopped at the door of the dark room, took a deep breath.

I've always liked rough sex, direct and intense, feeling used, making others enjoy themselves. I had a fantasy of public humiliation and degradation for a long time. The idea of taking my desires out of the private sphere turned me on. A lot.

I met this guy on Xtrud. It seemed like the typical conversation that wouldn't lead to anything, but the guy insisted and got all my fantasies out of me, even the unconfessable ones. You know how it is, you feel comfortable in anonymity, when you're behind a screen, you let go.

But those conversations evolved. I felt comfortable letting go, opening up to him. On his part, there was only one goal: convincing me to be at a certain place on a certain day and putting myself at his disposal.

There, at the door of the dark room, I remembered the conversations, what he told me he would do to me, and a phrase that, in reality, was what convinced me: "and what you can't even imagine I'm going to do to you, bitch."

I entered the dark room, headed to a specific corner, got on my knees, opened my mouth, lowered my head, put my hands behind my back, and waited.

There were people in the place, but it wasn't full yet. All the guys I had crossed paths with were hot, very hot. I didn't fit in.

With my heart racing, I waited. Actually, it wasn't long. He must have followed me or something. A cock appeared in front of my face, at a distance where I could stick out my tongue and lick it (I was craving it), but before that, he lowered his head and whispered in my ear, "I'm glad you came, bitch. I'm going to have fun at your expense. Turn around."

I didn't make any movement when I felt him closing l...