The look in Chuck’s eyes is what gets me every time. That glimmer of fear tempered with hope and desire. Like he’s scared of what he wants, but he’s completely helpless to resist his cravings.

And that’s why I’ll never blindfold him, why I’ll never turn off the lights. I may bind him to my four-poster bed or suspend him from hooks in the ceiling using leather cuffs and chrome chains, but his vision is never compromised. I want to see his naked lust shining back at me from his dark brown eyes. I want to keep him in the light so he can’t recede into the safety of darkness and pretend that he’s not willingly submitting to me.

But for all of his initial reluctance, he always finds strength — somewhere in the beautifully twisted depths of his lust — and when he does, he lets go. Floating in that perfect zone, his apprehension melts away, and his hunger for pleasure consumes him — and that’s when I know he’s reached the point of complete surrender.

Seeing that moment of transformation is what gets me off.

Chuck understood that about me, but he was still surprised by what he saw when he entered our play space: a wall of mirrors at the far end of the room. Not only did they reflect a complete view of the entire area with all of its lust-inspiring implements, but they also captured his look of shock — and my look of pleasure.

“Problem?” I asked, working to bite back a smile.

“No, Ma’am,” Xhe assured me with a shaky voice.

“Very well,” I said. “It’s time.”

Chuck’s eyes darted left to right, as though he was searching for an escape, but I knew it was merely his nerves getting the better of him. Nerves that would dissipate just enough — once he was naked and strapped to the spanking horse.

Chuck settled down enough to strip. He folded each piece of clothing, stacking them on a nearby chair. This was the same routine we followed every week, but the presence of the mirrors disturbed him in just the right way.

Without moving from my position, I could see him front and back. There really was no place for him to hide. Seeing him so unsettled made my heart beat a little faster. Keeping him on edge was part of the game for me.

I was always thrilled to see a man like Chuck — so tall and strong — surrender to me, and that night was no different. I admired his naked body, his cock already half-erect and his muscles flexing as he walked to the horse and dutifully draped his body over it.

The bench was a thing of wicked beauty — a wooden frame covered by padded leather that left his cock and balls accessible and included small platforms on which he could rest his elbows and knees. Chuck hugged his leather lover tightly as I affixed cuffs to his wrists and ankles. He glanced upward with searching eyes. I’d never before bound him to the bench, trusting him to maintain his posture. But that night, I didn’t want him to focus on his position. I wanted him to focus on his feelings.

I stroked his back, running my fingers from his broad shoulders to the curve of his defenseless cheeks. Rather than relaxing him, my easy touch made him even more tense.

“Why did you come here today?”

I always ask the same question, yet the answer never comes easily, which is why, I think, I insist on hearing his answer.

“Because it’s Saturday,” he stuttered.

I tsked and slapped his ass. His body jerked, and he released a soft groan that sparked a flare of arousal inside me.

“Let’s try this again. Why did you come to my door?”

“Because … I need to be punished.”

“Have you been a bad boy?”

“No.”

“Then why?” I asked with an innocent lilt, lazily tracing the outline of my handprint on his cheek.

“Because it excites me,” he confessed in a whisper, his face growing a deeper shade of scarlet.

I brought my lips close to his ear and said, “What a coincidence, Chuck. It excites me, too.”

Our scene had barely begun, but my panties were already damp. I walked to the cabinet to select an implement, acting as if I had all night to make my decision. To Chuck, the passing silent minutes might have been interpreted as an aloof disinterest in him. But in reality, I was trying to regain my composure.

Selecting a fraternity-style paddle, I hefted the tool in my hand to reacquaint myself with its weight. I tapped it against my palm, recalling memories of the last time I’d used it to color Chuck’s pale flesh. The paddle’s impact was solid, so different than the sharp sparks inflicted by a leather tawse or crop, and I knew it was exactly what he needed.

Chuck studied me in the mirror. Although I was wearing a formfitting black corset and a long skirt with a thigh-high slit, he only had eyes for the paddle that represented his fear and his salvation.

“Eyes open, face forward. Watch yourself beg for what you need — and then watch as I give it to you,” I instructed.

Chuck nodded to indicate he understood.

Staring straight ahead, exactly as ordered, he beseeched, “Please, Ma’am. Please spank me.”

His voice was filled with desperation — the good kind that stems from an ever-increasing erotic hunger.

I think I was as much in his thrall as he was in mine.

My clit was pulsing in time with my beating heart, a merciless distraction that continued to demand my attention. Gripping the paddle firmly, I brought it down on one cheek and then the other. Chuck bucked as much as he could in his bonds, and I enjoyed the sound of the cuffs’ chains rattling as his body jerked in response to each strike. I used enough force to redden his skin and make him gasp, but not enough to push him beyond his limits. I knew how much intensity he craved — and how his desire would grow as the minutes passed. I increased the pace of my blows, building up a steady rhythm. Meanwhile, he stared at his own image: lips parted and eyes wide as he struggled to obey my command. The earnestness in his face made my cunt ache. I could tell how hard he was trying to please me — even as he was embarrassed about his need and being forced to confront it so directly.

I continued paddling him, admiring the palette of colors developing on his bottom and stealing glances at his handsome face. Chuck was no longer gasping, and a dreamy look had filled his eyes. On my first strike, his hands had been balled into fists. No longer clenched, his fingers were now fanned out against the leather. He was still facing forward, but he’d crossed over into that beautiful, blissful place, which meant he was all mine.

I gradually slowed the pace of the paddle, not wanting to startle him out of his hard-earned subspace. I tossed the implement aside. Chuck didn’t speak, but he didn’t need to. After stripping off my skirt, I dug into my toy box, pulling out a bottle of lube and my favorite strap-on dildo. Curved and red, it offered a stunning contrast to my ebony corset and boots. I buckled myself into the harness and poured a healthy amount of slick liquid into my palm. I casually lubed up my cock, jerking the shaft and making sure Chuck had a good view of the action. His desire was written on his face. He desperately wanted to feel my cock plundering his ass. But no matter how badly he wanted the sensation, he needed to be bound in order to feel free enough to accept this pleasure.

As my hand stroked my shaft, I felt the subtle pressure of the dildo’s base nudging my clit. Working my hand rhythmically, I felt my arousal inching ever closer to the point of no return. Letting go of my dick, I ran one slick finger down Chuck’s crack, nudging his asshole until he groaned. Drawing gentle circles against his backdoor, I increased the pressure of my touch until my fingertip popped inside him.

Chuck’s lips were parted again, and a perverse sort of hope lit up his features. I worked my finger in and out, feeling that snug ring of muscle open invitingly for me.

Backing away slightly, I then positioned the head of my glistening cock at his entrance, flirting with penetration but not pulling the trigger. I rocked my hips from side to side, increasing the friction on my clit. A helpless whimper escaped his lips, and I felt a little pulse of pleasure inside.

“Tell me what you need, boy,” I ordered in a husky whisper. My hips kept swaying, and as the base of the toy worried my clit, I was hovering on the edge of bliss.

Chuck drew in a shaky breath, rattled to his core with want.

“Your cock in my ass, Ma’am. I need you to fuck me.”

I thrust my hips forward, giving him the full length of my shaft in one hard stroke. He released a sob of happy resignation. I moved my cock in and out of his hole until my own needs got the better of me. With my silicone bone balls-deep, I ground my pelvis against his still-warm ass until the pressure of the toy sparked my orgasm. I gasped loudly as I was wracked by my release.

After slickening up my palm again with lube, I reached between us and took hold of Chuck’s shaft. I gripped his erection, jerking him gently as I kept the head of my cock just inside his back hole. He was squirming, but I didn’t chastise him. Chuck had been such a good boy; he deserved this treat. After a few simple strokes of my hand, I felt his cock throb as his orgasm hit. He reared up and groaned through the last spasms of his pleasure.

Chuck’s grateful eyes shone back at me, and I felt a deep-seated bliss at having found a man who perfectly mirrored my kinky desires.