The next morning, I wake to my phone buzzing. I reach for it sleepily, smiling when I see Aaron’s name flash on the screen.

“Good morning, Master,” I answer sleepily as I sit up against the headboard.

"Mmm, I like hearing that drowsy voice of yours," Aaron's deep tone rumbles through the phone, making me instantly more awake. "Did you sleep well after yesterday's performance?"

"Yes, Master," I reply, stretching beneath the sheets. "Though I kept thinking about tonight."

"Good. That anticipation is exactly what I want coursing through you all day." There's a pause, and I can hear him moving around. "I have something for you to do before we meet."

My pulse quickens. "Another task?"

"A preparation," he corrects, his voice taking on that commanding edge that makes my stomach flutter. "Today you're going to go shopping. I want you to buy something special for tonight—something that will please me."

I bite my lip, already feeling heat pooling between my thighs. "What kind of something, Master?"

"Lingerie," he says, the word itself carrying weight. "Black. Lace. Something that frames your body rather than conceals it. I want straps, Nikki. I want access."

My breath catches. "Yes, Master."

"And one more thing," he continues, his voice dropping lower. "When you try them on, I want photos from the dressing room. Not of your face, just what I'd see if I were there watching you."

"But the attendants—"

"Find a way," he cuts me off. "That's part of the challenge. I need to approve your selection before you purchase it."

I swallow hard, already mapping boutiques in my mind, calculating which might have private dressing rooms. "I understand."

"Good girl. I'll expect those photos by noon. And Nikki?"

"Yes?"

"Wear the blue dress again. I want you thinking about yesterday every time the breeze touches your skin."

My body responds instantly to the memory, warmth spreading through me. "The same dress? But Master, what if I see Marcus again?"

"Then you'll smile and order another latte," Aaron says, amusement threading through his voice. "Unless you're telling me you didn't enjoy his attention?"

Heat floods my cheeks. "I... no, Master. I mean, yes, I enjoyed it."

"I thought so. The way you described his reaction told me everything I needed to know about how much you liked being seen." His voice turns serious again. "Remember, no panties today either. I want you feeling exposed while you shop for what you'll wear for me tonight."

"Yes, Master," I whisper, already imagining myself in various lingerie boutiques, trying on delicate pieces while completely bare beneath my dress.

"Good. Now get up and have your coffee. I want you at the boutiques by ten." There's a rustling sound, then his voice returns, softer but no less commanding. "And Nikki? I want you to think about my hands on you with every piece you try on. Imagine how I'll remove each strap, each clasp, when you're kneeling before me tonight."

The line goes dead, leaving me breathless and aching. I set the phone aside and slip from bed, my bare feet hitting the cool hardwood. Even the simple act of walking to the kitchen sends reminders of yesterday coursing through me—the memory of air against my exposed skin, Marcus's hungry gaze.

I brew coffee with trembling hands, mind already racing through the day ahead. The upscale shopping district downtown has several lingerie boutiques. La Perla would be too expensive, but there's that new place, Whispers, that Sarah mentioned last month. Their dressing rooms have full-length mirrors and heavy curtains instead of doors—perfect for what Aaron has commanded.

I sip my coffee, scrolling through their website on my phone. The preview images make my breath catch—intricate black lace, strategically placed straps, pieces clearly designed for display rather than practicality. I find their hours: they open at 10 AM. Perfect.

After showering, I stand before my closet, the blue dress hanging there like a dare. I run my fingers over the soft fabric, remembering how vulnerable I'd felt yesterday—how thrilling it had been to know that at any moment, a gust of wind could expose me. I slip it over my head, the material cool against my still-damp skin.

True to Aaron's instructions, I leave my underwear drawer untouched. The dress settles against my bare skin like a whispered secret as I check my reflection. The mirror shows nothing obviously amiss, but I know the truth beneath the modest exterior.

My phone buzzes with a text from Sarah: "Coffee this morning? I'm dying to hear about your mysterious man."

I stare at the message, pulse quickening. The last thing I need is Sarah's probing questions when I'm already on edge from Aaron's task. But refusing might seem suspicious.

"Can't today - running errands. Rain check?" I type back.

"Boo. Fine, but I want details soon!"

I grab my purse and keys, pausing at the door to steady my nerves. The morning air carries a hint of the breeze that tormented me yesterday, and I press the dress against my thighs as I walk to my car.

*

Downtown, I park near Whispers and sit for a moment, gathering my courage. Through the boutique's window, I can see elegant displays of delicate lingerie on mannequins. A few early shoppers browse the racks inside. My phone shows 9:58 AM - perfect timing.

I push through the glass door, a soft chime announcing my arrival. The interior is all cream marble and soft lighting, with classical music playing low. An impeccably dressed woman in her forties approaches me with a practiced smile.

"Good morning! I'm Claire. How can I help you today?"

"I'm looking for something special," I say, my voice steadier than I feel. "Black lace. Something with... architectural details."

Her eyes light up with professional interest. "Ah, a discerning taste. We have some exquisite pieces that just arrived from Paris. What's the occasion, if you don't mind me asking?"

Heat creeps up my neck."A gift," I murmur, which isn't entirely untrue. "For someone with very particular preferences."

Claire nods knowingly. "I understand completely. Follow me - I have some pieces that sound perfect for what you're describing."

She leads me to a section in the back, where black lace creations hang like works of art. My breath catches at the intricate designs - bodysuits with cutout details, bras with straps that crisscross the torso, pieces that are more architecture than clothing.

"This collection is called 'Submission,'" Claire says, selecting a particularly striking piece. "The designer specializes in pieces that celebrate the female form through strategic exposure and beautiful bondage-inspired details."

The irony of the collection's name makes my cheeks burn. The piece she's holding is stunning - a black lace bodysuit with a plunging neckline connected by delicate straps that create a geometric pattern across the chest and back. The bottom is cut high on the hips with more straps framing the curves of my waist.

"The dressing rooms are just through here," Claire continues, leading me toward the back of the boutique. "Take your time - these pieces need to be experienced, not just tried on."

My heart pounds as she shows me to a spacious room with floor-to-ceiling mirrors and a heavy velvet curtain for privacy. The lighting is soft and flattering, designed to make every customer feel beautiful. It's perfect for what Aaron has commanded.

"I'll bring you a few different sizes and styles to try," Claire says. "Ring the bell if you need anything."

Once alone, I pull out my phone and check the time - 10:15. I have until noon to get Aaron's approval. I hang the bodysuit on the hook and step back

to examine it more closely. The construction is incredible - every strap positioned to enhance rather than conceal, the lace so delicate it seems to float against the hanger.

I slip the dress over my head, my bare skin prickling in the boutique's air conditioning. The mirrors reflect my naked form from every angle, and I'm struck by how different I look - my nipples already hard with anticipation, a flush spreading across my chest.

The bodysuit slides over my skin like liquid silk. The lace cups my breasts perfectly, lifting them while the intricate strap work frames my torso in geometric patterns. The high-cut bottom accentuates the curve of my hips, while strategic cutouts reveal glimpses of skin that would drive Aaron wild.

I position my phone carefully, angling it to capture the full effect without showing my face. The camera clicks softly as I document the piece from multiple angles - front view showing how the straps frame my breasts, side view revealing the dramatic cutouts along my ribs, back view displaying the intricate lacing that runs down my spine. My hands shake slightly as I review the images, seeing myself as Aaron will see me - displayed, presented, ready for his touch.

I send the photos with a simple message: "Option one, Master. How does this please you?"

While waiting for his response, I slip out of the bodysuit and examine the other pieces Claire has brought. There's a matching set - bra and panties connected by delicate chains that drape across the hips. Another option is a corset-style piece with lacing up the front and back, designed to be adjusted by someone else's hands.

My phone buzzes. "Beautiful, but I want to see more options. Try the corset."

I carefully set down the phone and pick up the corset, admiring its intricate details. The black lace is reinforced with boning that would cinch my waist while pushing my breasts upward. Tiny silver hooks run up the front, complemented by satin ribbons lacing through metal eyelets in the back.

With trembling fingers, I position it against my torso, struggling slightly with the front clasps. The material hugs my curves possessively, transforming my silhouette into something both vulnerable and powerful. I manage to secure the front hooks but can only partially tighten the back lacing, leaving it looser than intended.

Even partially laced, the effect is striking. My breasts swell above the scalloped edge, my waist appears impossibly narrow, and the bottom edge of the corset rests just above my exposed sex. I turn slowly, examining how the structured garment transforms my body into something deliberately crafted for desire. The boning forces perfect posture, arching my back in a way that thrusts my breasts forward while creating an elegant curve down to my hips.

I capture more photos, focusing on how the corset creates shadows and highlights across my skin. The partially loosened back lacing suggests what Aaron's hands will do when he slowly tightens each ribbon, drawing the garment closed around me like a beautiful trap.

"Option two," I text with the images. "Needs someone else to finish the lacing properly."

His response is immediate: "Perfect. That's exactly what I want - something that requires my hands to complete. Try one more option, then buy the corset."

Claire's voice drifts from outside the curtain. "How are we doing? Do any of the pieces feel right?"

"Still deciding,"

I call back, my voice slightly breathless. "They're all beautiful. Could I see one more style?"

"Of course! I have something special that just came in - very limited edition."

I quickly unlace the corset and slip it off, hanging it carefully as Claire's footsteps approach. She slides a hanger through the curtain gap - this piece makes me gasp audibly. It's barely there at all, more suggestion than garment. Black lace forms a delicate bralette connected to a matching thong by thin chains that would drape across my torso and hips. Additional straps create a harness effect, designed to frame rather than cover.

"It's called 'Devotion,'" Claire explains through the curtain. "Very avant-garde. Not for everyone, but some clients find it... transformative."

I take the piece with trembling hands. The construction is so minimal that wearing it would be like adorning myself with shadows and starlight. I slip into it carefully, each strap settling against my skin like a whispered promise. The chains catch the light as they drape across my ribs, creating patterns that shift with every breath.

The effect is breathtaking and terrifying. I'm essentially naked but decorated, my body transformed into living art. The delicate straps frame my breasts without truly covering them, while the chains draw attention to every curve. It's the most exposed I've ever been while technically clothed.

I angle my phone carefully, capturing how the piece transforms nudity into something ceremonial. The harness effect makes me look like an offering, which I suppose I am.

"Final option," I text to Aaron. "This one makes me feel like I'm wearing jewelry instead of clothes."

His response comes quickly: "Stunning, but too delicate for what I have planned for tonight. The corset. Buy it and go home. I want you wearing it when I arrive at 8."

My breath catches at the promise in his words. I quickly remove the delicate harness, my skin tingling where the chains had rested. The corset hangs waiting, and I touch it once more, imagining Aaron's hands working the lacing tight against my ribs.

"Yes, Master. Purchasing now," I type back.

"Yes," I manage, heat flooding my cheeks as she folds the corset into tissue paper. "He has very... specific preferences."

Claire's knowing smile suggests she's seen this dynamic before. "The best ones do. This piece will make you feel incredible - powerful and feminine at once." She slides the package into an elegant black bag. "That'll be two hundred and forty-seven dollars."

I hand over my card, pulse racing as I imagine Aaron's reaction to seeing me in his selection. The transaction feels significant, like I'm purchasing more than lingerie - I'm buying my submission, gift-wrapped in French lace.

"Enjoy," Claire says with a wink as she hands me the bag. "Something tells me this evening will be unforgettable."

Outside, the morning breeze catches my dress again, reminding me of my exposed state beneath. I clutch the boutique bag against my chest like a shield. The boutique bag feels weighted with possibility, with the promise of Aaron's hands drawing those ribbons tight in just a few hours.

My phone buzzes as I reach my car: "Good girl. Now go home and prepare yourself. I want you bathed, skin soft, hair loose. Wear the corset but leave the back lacing only partially done - I'll finish it when I arrive."

I slide into the driver's seat, the leather cool against my bare skin beneath the dress. "Yes, Master. What time should I expect you?"

"Eight sharp. Be kneeling by the door when I arrive."

The drive home passes in a blur of anticipation. Every red light, every turn sends fresh waves of awareness through my body. The boutique bag sits beside me like a secret, its contents promising transformation.

*

Back in my apartment, I set the bag on my dresser and check the time -

11:45 AM. Hours stretch before me, each minute thick with anticipation. I send Aaron one final text—"Home safely, Master"—before setting my phone aside and trying to focus on mundane tasks to pass the time.

I clean my already tidy apartment, paying special attention to the bedroom. Fresh sheets, candles arranged on the nightstand, a bottle of wine chilling in the refrigerator. Each preparation feels ceremonial, like I'm creating sacred space for what will unfold tonight.

By mid-afternoon, restlessness overtakes me. I draw a bath, adding lavender oil and rose petals to the steaming water. As I sink into the fragrant heat, I close my eyes and let my mind wander to what awaits me. Aaron's hands drawing those corset ribbons tight. His voice commanding me. His approval when I obey perfectly.

I shave meticulously, exfoliating every inch of skin until I'm silky smooth. The ritual calms me, focusing my scattered thoughts on preparation rather than anticipation. After the bath, I pat myself dry with a plush towel and massage scented oil into my skin—the jasmine blend Aaron once mentioned he found intoxicating, working it into my shoulders, my breasts, my thighs—everywhere his hands might wander tonight.

Time moves like honey, slow and sweet with anticipation. By late afternoon, I'm prowling my apartment, unable to settle. I check my phone obsessively, though I know Aaron won't contact me again until he arrives. This silence is part of his control—leaving me to simmer in my own thoughts, my own imagination creating scenarios that leave me breathless.

The time stretches endlessly. I attempt to read, to watch television, but nothing holds my attention. My thoughts keep drifting to the black bag on my dresser, to the corset waiting inside, to Aaron's hands that will soon be tightening those ribbons against my flesh.

At seven, I begin the final preparations. I blow-dry my hair until it falls in loose waves around my shoulders, just as he prefers. I apply minimal makeup—a touch of mascara, a hint of blush, clear gloss on my lips. Aaron likes me natural, claims he can see my true reactions better when I'm not hidden behind cosmetics.

At 7:30, I finally open the boutique bag, carefully unwrapping the tissue paper. The corset is even more beautiful than I remembered—intricate black lace with subtle floral patterns woven into the design. I strip naked and wrap it around my torso, securing the front hooks with trembling fingers. The material embraces me possessively, transforming my silhouette into something both vulnerable and powerful.

I thread the satin ribbons through the back eyelets but leave them loose as instructed, creating a tantalizing gap that reveals glimpses of my bare skin beneath. The partial lacing allows me to breathe but reminds me with every inhale that soon, Aaron will pull these ribbons tight, binding me further into submission.

I check my reflection in the full-length mirror. The woman staring back seems like a stranger—eyes bright with anticipation, lips slightly parted, body transformed by the structured garment. The corset pushes my breasts upward, creating a dramatic décolletage that makes me look both powerful and offered. The loose lacing at the back suggests incompletion—I am not fully prepared without his hands to finish the work.

At 7:50, I check the apartment one final time. Candles wait unlit on the nightstand. Fresh sheets stretched across the bed. Wine and glasses set out in the kitchen. Everything perfect, ready for his arrival.

At 7:55, I take my position by the door, sinking to my knees on the soft cushion I've placed there. My heart pounds against the boning of the corset, each beat a countdown to his arrival. I arrange my hair forward over one shoulder, exposing the loose lacing at my back. My hands rest palms up on my thighs, the position of waiting Aaron has taught me. The hardwood floor beneath the cushion is unyielding, a constant reminder of my place. I focus on my breathing, trying to calm the rapid flutter of my pulse.

At precisely 8:00, I hear his footsteps in the hallway. Steady, unhurried, confident. The sound alone sends a ripple of anticipation through my body. The key turns in the lock—I gave him one last month, a surrender of privacy that still makes me tremble when I think about it.

The door opens, and I keep my eyes downcast as Aaron instructed during our early training. I see only his polished shoes at first, then dark jeans as he steps inside and closes the door behind him. The click of the lock sliding into place feels impossibly loud in the silence.

"Look at me," he commands, his voice deep and controlled. I raise my eyes slowly, following the line of his body upward until I meet his gaze. Aaron stands before me, immaculate in a charcoal button-down and dark jeans, his presence filling the apartment instantly.

"Good evening, Master," I whisper, my voice catching slightly.

He studies me with deliberate intensity, taking in every detail—the corset molding my torso, my bare legs folded beneath me, the anticipation in my eyes. A small smile plays at the corner of his mouth.

"Stand," he commands.

I rise gracefully to my feet, keeping my eyes on his, feeling the loose lacing of the corset shift against my back.

"Turn around."

I pivot slowly, presenting my back to him. I hear his sharp intake of breath at the sight of the partially laced corset, the ribbons hanging loose, waiting for his hands. His fingers brush against my exposed skin, causing goosebumps to rise in their wake.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, his warm breath tickling the nape of my neck. "You followed my instructions perfectly."

His fingers trace the edge of the corset, following the path where lace meets bare skin. I shiver under his touch, fighting to keep still as he commanded.

"Did you enjoy your shopping experience?" he asks, his voice deceptively casual as his hands begin gathering the loose ribbons.

"Yes, Master," I breathe, feeling the first gentle tug as he begins to tighten the lacing. "The saleswoman was very... helpful."

"I imagine she was," Aaron says, pulling the ribbons tighter with deliberate slowness. "Did she ask who you were buying this for?"

The corset begins to close around my ribs, each pull of the ribbons making my breath catch. "She asked if it was for someone with specific preferences," I admit, my voice growing breathless as the corset tightens around my waist.

"And what did you tell her?" Aaron's hands work methodically, drawing the lacing through each eyelet with practiced precision. The garment embraces me more possessively with each tug.

"That he does," I whisper, feeling the structured fabric reshape my body exactly as he intended. "She said the best ones always do."

Aaron chuckles low in his throat, the sound vibrating against my back as he leans closer. "She's not wrong." Another pull, tighter now, forcing perfect posture as the boning aligns my spine. "How does it feel to be bound for my pleasure?"

"Like coming home," I confess, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

Aaron's hands still on the ribbons. The silence stretches between us, heavy with the weight of my admission. I feel exposed in a way that has nothing to do with the revealing corset.

"Turn around," he says finally, his voice softer now but no less commanding.

I pivot to face him, the fully laced corset now molding my body like a second skin. My breathing is shallow, restricted by the tight embrace of the garment. Aaron's dark eyes search my face, reading every emotion flickering across my features.

"Say it again," he commands, stepping closer until I can feel the heat radiating from his body.

"It feels like coming home, Master," I repeat, my voice barely above a whisper.

His hand cups my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze fully. "Do you understand what that means, Nikki? What you're really saying to me?"

I swallow hard, the corset's restriction making each breath deliberate. "I think I do," I whisper, holding his gaze despite the vulnerability coursing through me. "It means I've stopped fighting what I need. What we both need."

His thumb brushes across my lower lip, the gentleness a stark contrast to the firm grip still holding my chin. "And what exactly do you need, Nikki?"

"This," I breathe against his thumb. "The structure. The surrender. Knowing that no matter how much control I maintain out there—" I gesture vaguely toward the world beyond my apartment "—in here, with you, I can let it all go."

Something shifts in Aaron's expression, a softening around his eyes while his mouth remains firm. "Do you know how rare that is? Finding someone who understands their own nature so completely?"

Before I can respond, he lowers his mouth to mine, capturing my lips in a kiss that starts gentle but quickly deepens with hunger. His hands slide around my waist, feeling the rigid structure of the corset, testing his handiwork. I melt against him, the constriction around my torso making every sensation more intense, more immediate.

"You've pleased me today," he murmurs against my lips. "The corset was the perfect choice. It requires my hands to complete it, just as you require my guidance to become your truest self."

His words send a shiver through me, a recognition so profound it borders on pain. He steps back slightly, his eyes traveling down my body with deliberate appreciation.

"Walk to the bedroom," he commands. "I want to see how you move in this."

I turn and begin the short journey down the hallway, acutely aware of how the corset forces my posture, how my hips sway with each step, how the restriction around my ribs makes me breathe more deliberately. Behind me, I hear Aaron's footsteps following at a measured pace, his gaze a tangible weight on my body.

In the bedroom, I pause beside the bed, waiting for his next command. The candles I prepared remain unlit, the wine still chilled. Everything waits for his direction.

"Light the candles," he says, settling into the chair I've positioned near the foot of the bed. "Slowly. I want to watch you move."

I reach for the matches on the nightstand, bending carefully in the restrictive corset. The first flame springs to life, casting flickering shadows across the walls. As I move from candle to candle, I feel Aaron's eyes tracking every motion, cataloging how the garment transforms my movements into something more deliberate, more graceful. I watch as he sits on the chaise lounge at the foot of my bed.

"You visited me again in my dreams. I was a silent observer, a specter in the shadows; you may not have known I was there. You were home, here on your bed, a discreet vibrator within reach and a folded towel beneath you. Slowly, you undressed, laying down on your stomach, your most intimate part pressed against the towel. You arched your back slightly, hand slipping beneath your hips to reach your wetness. Spreading your legs, you began to explore yourself, fingers dancing over your folds, circling your clit, as if imagining my touch. You slid two fingers inside, pumping gently, but the angle was awkward, your hips lifting to meet your hand. I watched, enthralled, as you grew slick and eager. Retrieving your vibrator, you placed it beneath you, lowering yourself onto its steady hum. You writhed and moaned, legs spreading wider, hips rolling side to side. Then, you lifted yourself, taking a respite from the relentless vibration, only to lower yourself once more, repeating this dance, teasing yourself to the edge of release and back again. Finally, when you could hold back no longer, you pressed down, letting the vibrator drive you to a shuddering climax. You cried out, body convulsing, hands gripping the sheets, your essence soaking the towel. As your orgasm subsided, you collapsed, panting, a soft smile playing on your lips. I watched, satisfied, before waking and realizing it was just a dream. But I knew, even awake, you could bring yourself such pleasure, and that you'd share the tale with me.”

I halt abruptly, my heart pounding as I swivel to face him, eyes wide with a mixture of curiosity and dread. "Is that my next task, Master? To bring your dream to life?"

"Indeed," he replies, a chilling edge to his voice. "But this time, I will be the one capturing every moment."

My breath catches in my throat, the corset suddenly feeling impossibly tight around my ribs. "Yes, Master," I whisper, my voice trembling with a mixture of anticipation and vulnerability.

Aaron stands from the chaise, reaching into his jacket pocket to retrieve his phone. "The corset stays on," he says, his voice low and commanding. "I want to see how it affects your movements, how it forces you to arch differently."

He positions himself at the foot of the bed, angling his phone to capture the entire scene. The red record light blinks to life, and suddenly I'm hyperaware of every breath, every movement.

"Get your vibrator," he instructs. "And a towel."

My legs feel unsteady as I move to my nightstand drawer, retrieving the small silver device that's brought me countless nights of pleasure. From the linen closet, I grab a plush navy towel, feeling Aaron's eyes tracking my every movement.

"Spread the towel on the bed," he directs, his voice steady but thick with anticipation. "Center of the mattress."

I unfold the towel with trembling hands, smoothing it across the crisp sheets. The corset restricts my ability to bend normally, forcing me to move with deliberate grace, my posture unnaturally perfect.

"Now lie down on your stomach," Aaron commands. "Just as I described in my dream."

I climb onto the bed, the mattress dipping slightly beneath my weight. Lowering myself onto my stomach proves challenging with the rigid corset. I have to arch my back more dramatically than usual

I sink onto the mattress, my movements constrained by the structured garment. The corset forces my back into an exaggerated arch, my buttocks lifting slightly as I position myself on the towel. The boning presses against my ribs, a constant reminder of Aaron's control.

"Perfect," he murmurs, adjusting his position at the foot of the bed. "Now, touch yourself exactly as I described. Start slowly."

My face burns with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal as I slip my hand beneath my hips, fingers searching for my center. The corset makes the angle awkward, requiring me to lift my hips higher than usual to reach properly. I hear Aaron's appreciative intake of breath at the resulting display.

"That's it," he encourages, his voice dropping lower. "Show me how wet you are already."

My fingers find my folds, slick with anticipation, and I gasp softly at the contact. The restricted breathing from the corset intensifies every sensation, making each touch feel magnified. I trace my fingers along my slit, gathering the moisture there, my hips instinctively pressing down against the towel.

"Spread your legs wider," Aaron commands, his voice rough with desire. "I want to see everything."

I comply, parting my thighs as much as the position allows, feeling utterly exposed and vulnerable. The corset forces me to maintain the arch, putting me on display for both Aaron and his camera. My fingers continue their exploration, circling my clit with increasing pressure.

"Now slide two fingers inside," he instructs. "Just as you did in my dream."

I shift my weight, lifting my hips to accommodate the awkward angle. The corset's restriction makes it challenging, but I manage to slip two fingers deep inside myself, a low moan escaping my lips at the intrusion. The position forces me to pump awkwardly, my hips rolling against my hand as I seek the friction I crave.

"Beautiful," Aaron breathes from behind the camera. "You're struggling with the angle, aren't you? Just like in my dream."

"Yes, Master," I gasp, my voice muffled against the sheets. The corset makes every movement deliberate, every breath a conscious effort. My fingers work inside me, but the position is frustrating, not quite reaching where I need them most.

"Get the vibrator now," he commands. "Place it beneath you, just as I saw you do."

I reach for the silver device with my free hand, my movements clumsy as I try to position it correctly while maintaining my arch. The corset's boning digs into my ribs as I maneuver the vibrator beneath me, adjusting until the smooth tip presses against my swollen clit. The first contact sends a jolt through my system, making me gasp and arch further into the restriction of the corset.

"Turn it on," Aaron instructs, his voice barely above a whisper now. "Low setting first."

My trembling fingers find the small button, and the device hums to life against my most sensitive flesh. I press my face into the pillow to muffle my moan, my hips instinctively grinding down against the steady vibration.

"Look at me," Aaron commands. "I want to see your face when pleasure takes you."

I turn my head, finding his eyes behind the camera. His gaze is dark with desire, focused entirely on capturing my submission. The knowledge that he's recording this—that he'll watch it again later, studying my reactions—sends another flood of wetness between my thighs. The vibrator hums relentlessly against my clit, making my hips buck involuntarily.

"Higher setting," Aaron commands, his voice husky. "And lift yourself up, just as I described. Tease yourself."

With trembling fingers, I increase the intensity, gasping as the vibrations strengthen. The corset forces me to arch my back even more dramatically as I lift my hips away from the pulsing device, creating a moment of desperate emptiness before lowering myself again. The sensation when I reconnect with the vibrator is electric, pulling a ragged moan from deep in my throat.

"Again," he commands, his breathing audible from behind the camera. "Torture yourself for me."

I obey, lifting my hips again, the loss of contact making me whimper with need. The corset's restriction makes holding this position burn through my core muscles, but I maintain it, hovering just above the vibrating device while my body screams for contact. When I lower myself again, the intensity is overwhelming—my back arches impossibly as pleasure courses through me.

"Please, Master," I gasp, my voice breaking. "I need—"

"Not yet," he cuts me off firmly. "Three more times. Count them."

"One," I breathe, lifting myself away from the relentless vibration, my thighs trembling with the effort. The corset makes every movement deliberate, turning my desperation into a performance of controlled suffering.

"LOWER YOURSELF AGAIN."

"Two," I moan as I deny myself again, hovering above the vibrator, my entire body quivering with need. The corset's restriction makes my breath come in shallow pants, intensifying the lightheaded sensation of approaching climax.

"LOWER YOURSELF AGAIN."

"Three," I whimper, the final lift nearly impossible as my muscles strain against both gravity and desire. When I lower myself this time, the vibrations hit precisely where I need them most, and I know I won't be able to hold back much longer.

"Now," Aaron commands, his voice thick with arousal. "Press down and don't stop until you come for me."

I grind down against the vibrator, abandoning all restraint. The corset forces my back into that perfect arch, displaying my submission in the most vulnerable way possible. Pleasure builds rapidly, coiling tighter with each restricted breath, each pulse of the vibrator against my swollen clit. The pressure is exquisite, overwhelming, pushing me toward the edge with brutal efficiency.

"That's it," Aaron encourages, his voice a caress in the candlelit room. "Let go for me. Show me what you look like when you surrender completely."

My release crashes through me like a tidal wave, my body convulsing against the mattress as pleasure radiates outward from my core. The corset's restriction makes each wave more intense, forcing my body to fight against its confines as ecstasy tears through me. I cry out, unable to contain the sound as my essence soaks the towel beneath me.

"Keep going," Aaron commands, his voice rough with desire. "Don't stop until I say."

The vibrator continues its relentless assault on my oversensitive flesh, pushing me past the first orgasm and into a second, more intense climax. My fingers clutch the sheets desperately as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me, my body writhing against the towel as the corset forces every movement into deliberate display. Tears of overwhelming sensation prick at my eyes, my voice breaking as I moan his name.

"Master, please," I sob, the vibrator becoming almost too much against my hypersensitive clit. "I can't—"

"You can," he says firmly, moving closer with the camera. "One more for me. Show me how beautifully you break."

The third orgasm builds from somewhere deeper, more primal. My entire body goes rigid against the corset's restriction, every muscle straining as the pleasure peaks beyond anything I've experienced. When it finally crests, I scream his name, my voice echoing off the bedroom walls as my body convulses uncontrollably.

"Stop," Aaron commands, and I immediately switch off the vibrator with trembling fingers, collapsing onto the towel. My body continues to pulse with aftershocks, each one sending a new tremor through my sweat-slicked skin. The corset now feels impossibly tight, my ragged breathing fighting against its unyielding structure.

I hear Aaron set the phone down, the recording stopped. The mattress dips as he sits beside me, his warm hand stroking my hair back from my flushed face.

"Breathe," he murmurs, his voice gentler now. "Slow and steady."

I try to comply, focusing on drawing air into my constricted lungs. The corset that had felt so empowering earlier now feels like a cage around my oversensitive body. Aaron seems to sense this, his fingers moving to the lacing at my back.

"Let me help you," he says, slowly loosening the ribbons one by one. With each loosened eyelet, I can draw deeper breaths, the relief washing over me in waves.

"You were magnificent," he murmurs, his fingers working methodically down my spine. "Everything I imagined and more."

As the corset loosens completely, I draw a full breath for the first time in hours, the oxygen rushing to my head in a dizzying wave. Aaron carefully helps me sit up, sliding the garment from my body with reverent hands. The cool air against my damp skin makes me shiver, goosebumps rising across my torso.

"Thank you, Master," I whisper, my voice hoarse from crying out.

Aaron's eyes soften as he takes in my state—flushed skin, tousled hair, the visible tremors still running through my limbs. Without a word, he stands and walks to the bathroom

I hear water running in the sink. He returns with a warm washcloth and gently cleans between my thighs, his touch clinical yet intimate. The tenderness in this aftercare always surprises me—how seamlessly he transitions from demanding Master to attentive caretaker.

"Drink," he says, offering a glass of water I hadn't noticed him prepare. I take it gratefully, the cool liquid soothing my parched throat.

Aaron sits beside me on the bed, one hand tracing idle patterns across my back. "You continue to surprise me," he murmurs, his voice thoughtful. "The way you surrender... it's unlike anything I've experienced before."

I lean into his touch, craving the connection after such intense vulnerability. "It's easier with you," I admit softly. "You make me feel safe enough to let go completely."

His fingers pause against my skin. "That's what this is about," he says quietly. "Trust. Without it, none of this would be possible."

I turn to face him fully, studying his expression in the candlelight. There's something vulnerable in his eyes that I rarely see—a glimpse behind the commanding facade he wears so effortlessly.

"I've never trusted anyone the way I trust you," I confess, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. "Sometimes it terrifies me."

Aaron's hand cups my cheek, his thumb brushing across my flushed skin. "Fear is natural. But you've never let it stop you from taking what you need."

The weight of his words settles between us. He's right—every task, every command, every moment of surrender has been a choice. My choice to push past the fear and embrace what calls to me.

"Will you stay tonight?" I ask, suddenly needing the comfort of his presence after such intensity.

Aaron's eyes search mine for a long moment. "Would you like me to?"

"Please," I whisper, surprised by how much I need this, not just his dominance, but his companionship in the quiet aftermath.

He nods, standing to blow out the candles one by one. In the growing darkness, I hear him removing his clothes, the soft rustle of fabric hitting the chair. When he slides into bed beside me, his skin is warm against mine as he pulls me close.

"Sleep," he murmurs against my hair. "You've given me everything tonight."

I curl against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. My body still hums with residual pleasure, but exhaustion begins to claim me. In this moment, wrapped in his arms, I feel completely at peace, owned, cherished, and home.

"Master?”

"Yes?" His voice is a low rumble against my ear.

"Thank you," I whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his chest. "For seeing what I need before I even know it myself."

His arms tighten around me protectively. "That's what I'm here for," he murmurs, his lips brushing the top of my head. "To give you permission to be exactly who you are."

I drift toward sleep in his embrace, my mind already wondering what tomorrow will bring. What new boundaries he'll help me explore, what parts of myself I've yet to discover under his careful guidance. The thought should frighten me, but wrapped in his warmth, it only fills me with anticipation.

Just before sleep claims me completely, I hear him whisper against my hair: "Sweet dreams, my beautiful submissive."

And for the first time in years, I know they will be.