First Time (Part I)

The door closed behind me with a dry click.

The sound pierced me like a discharge: there was no going back. I was in his territory. In his lair. The smell was of leather, old wood, something masculine and elegant, like him.

We had talked for many weeks until I decided to accept his invitation, it was the first time I had agreed to this kind of thing.

He was waiting for me standing next to the armchair. Tall. Firm. In his forties, with impeccable beard, black shirt open just enough to see his chest. He didn't make any gesture. He just looked at me. As if he already knew what to do with me.

"Yago" he said, and my name sounded serious, caressing my stomach from the inside —. I told you to come prepared.

I nodded. I had my heart racing, my mouth dry. I raised my eyes, looking for an order, something that would save me from the vertigo. He gave it to me:

"Take off your clothes. All of them."

My hands were trembling. The t-shirt fell first. Then the jeans. I was left in my underwear. I hesitated.

"All of it, puppy."

His voice didn't rise in tone. But it was impossible not to obey. I felt exposed, vulnerable... and harder than I had ever been. When I was completely naked, he approached slowly, like a predator sure of his prey.

"Hands back. On your knees."

I obeyed. I felt the cold floor under my legs, but his presence filled everything. He crouched in front of me, his large and warm hand on my neck. He held my gaze. His eyes were gray, deep. There was no judgment. Only control. Security. And a fierce desire, contained.

"First time, for sure?" he asked.

"Yes, Sir."

He barely smiled. Then he took out something small from his pocket. A simple black collar. He fastened it calmly around my neck.

"Now you're mine, Yago. For tonight, for this moment. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good boy." He shook my head and I stuck out my tongue by instinct.

Then he went down my back, firm, exploring me. He put a simple harness on me, adjusted to my body, and each closed buckle was a surrender. It didn't hurt. There was no punishment yet. Only his control. His presence. His rhythm.

He made me walk on all fours to a thick carpet. He caressed me behind the ears. He called me pup, my good dog. And when he made me lick his boots, I knew there was nothing else I wanted to be in that moment.

My body belonged to him. But the most dangerous thing was that I was starting to want my mind to belong to him too.

First Time (Part II)

His boot shone with the little light in the room. I had licked it as he asked, with my wet tongue, concentrated, listening to each of his breaths while doing it. I wasn't looking for my pleasure: I was looking for his. And he noticed. He liked it.

"I like it that way, pup" he said, and with one hand he grabbed my hair, f...