I make the two-and-a-half hour drive to his city, and the whole time, I am buzzing. Sean has made sure that I am going to text him when I get there and when I leave – he seems concerned by the whole thing, not sure why I would go so far just for one date. I haven’t told him about the BDSM, of course. But even if I had, I don’t think he’d understand. But he doesn’t have to. This is my journey of self-discovery, not his.

I arrive at the address Jake has given me, pulling the car to a halt outside a heavy steel door. This place looks serious. Jake’s been using it, he told me, for about a year now. It’s discreet. and we won’t get interrupted.

I hesitate for a moment before I get out of the car. Am I really going to do this? It’s crazy, but I know that I have to – know that I will never forgive myself if I back out now. Besides, Jake has made it clear that I can stop at any point, if it gets too much for me, and I am beyond grateful for that. I slip out of the car, go to the door – and before I can so much as knock, it opens before me, revealing a man dressed in an outfit that makes my jaw drop.

He is around six feet tall, wrapped from head to toe in a black latex gimp suit that covers most of his face. His eyes, though, tell me everything that I need to know – those piercing greys, the ones that I saw in that profile that drew me here in the first place. It’s Jake.

He gestures for me to come in, and I do as I’m told. It’s like I’m already under some sort of spell, unable to do anything but go along with what he asks. The door clangs shut behind me, and I feel a fizz of fear and excitement inside of me. The fact that Jake is covered, and I am so exposed, adds another layer to this, another powerplay that makes my heart-rate pick up in my chest.

Deeper inside the dungeon, it looks just like it did in the pictures – decked out in gorgeous deep reds and blacks, lined on the walls with whips and other toys that look as though they were made especially to scare me into the best kind of submission.

Jake walks slowly around the front of a pair of heavy, old-fashioned stocks, lifts the top wooden slat, and points at the exposed gaps.

"Arms here," he orders me, and I do as I am told at once; already, I can’t do anything but obey. He drops the top slat down, pinning my arms in place, and I flex my fingers nervously. I can’t really move much, but I suppose that’s at least some of the point.

He moves behind me, and I try to crane my neck around to watch him, but I can’t. I am distinctly aware of the dress that I am wearing, a little black number – the one he told me to wear after I sent him options – and how dangerously far it is riding up my body. If I shift another inch in my kitten heels, my whole arse is going to be exposed to this man I hardly know. It should scare me, but it doesn’t...

I can hear him moving around behind me, and I wriggle impatiently in my stocks, waiting for him to make a move. How long is he going to make me wait? Is this part of the ordeal, waiting for him to decide what to do with me?

Suddenly, I feel his hands on my hips, shoving the dress up over my thighs so that I am exposed; he reaches for my underwear and pulls them down roughly, then moves his hand between my thighs to spread them. I can feel my cheeks burning with excitement and humiliation in equal measure. I am totally on display for this man. I am distinctly aware of how vulnerable I am, but it doesn’t scare me – well, maybe just a little, but in a good way.

"Count these out loud for me," he orders me, and he brings down what feels like a large, flat paddle onto my left cheek. I cry out, in surprise more than at the pain, and for a moment, I forget what he had asked of me.

"Count," he repeats, and once I have gathered myself, I manage to.

"One," I blurt out. I brace myself for the next one, and it lands on my other cheek, a little harder this time. The sound of the paddle smacking into my skin makes me jump, but not as much as the shock of pain does. The adrenalin that’s been pumping through me since the moment I arrived is helping to numb it, but something tells me that Jake wants it to hurt, at least a little.

"Two," I finally manage, and I squeeze my eyes shut as he brings the paddle down again, once, twice, on each cheek. I can feel my skin starting to warm, the pain sending shockwaves through my whole body. But, as I count them out loud for him, I can feel something else in me, too. Something supplicant, something willing. Something relieved that, for the time, I don’t have to call the shots.

And it’s more than that, too. I feel strong. Strong enough to take this.

Jake takes his time with my spanking, making sure that I feel each and every one, until I am shivering with tension. The pain seems to morph into something else as he strikes me – something about being restrained like this, forced to focus on nothing but the physical sensation, makes me hyper-aware of the wetness of my pussy. I want him to touch me there, I realise.

But he holds back, as though distinctly aware of just how desperate I am. That is the power part of this, I suppose. The more I want it, the more confident he becomes; the more dominant.

By the time that he stops, I am hungry with desire - but he’s not going to let me get it that easily. All at once, I feel the thick, rough fabric of a bag being pulled over my head, and I can’t see a thing; his hand moves under my dress, and he undoes my bra and yanks it off so that my nipples are exposed. The cool air against my skin is a shock, but not as much of a shock as the feeling of the nipple clamps he soon attaches to my swollen breasts.

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"Fuck!” I exclaim. The metal bites into my sensitive skin, almost too painful for me to handle, and I consider using the safeword that he gave to me – but a moment later, the electric shock of pain runs down my belly and between my legs, and I know I can take it.

He pulls the stocks away from me. I want to stretch my arms over my head, but he catches them before I can even move. Every tiny motion I make seems to be dictated by him, and I know that this is just how he wants me. My ass is glowing with pain as he pulls me across the room; I stumble, unable to see where I’m going, but he doesn’t pay attention.

He pushes me down, hand on the middle of my back, and I feel something attach to my thighs – something hard, metal, something that pulls them apart so that I can’t clamp my legs together even if I tried. I am utterly on display for him, and I can’t even look at him. His hand sinks appreciatively into my ass. He squeezes roughly, and I let out a squeal of pain.

I know that I can stop this whenever I want, but, as I listen to the zipper of his fly, I find myself arching my back so that he can push inside of me.

A moment later, I feel his sheathed cock press at the entrance to my pussy, and I let out a groan inside the bag as he moves inside me for the first time. His hands grope at my reddened backside and swollen nipples, tugging on the clamps so that I squirm helplessly. The throbbing pain of the metal biting into my skin begins to blend with the feel of his cock moving inside of me, fucking me as though he has little regard for anything but how good he can make himself feel. I am utterly at his mercy, and I close my eyes and do my best to let that be all that matters right now.

I can feel my thighs starting to tremble, and normally, I would squeeze them shut around him until I came, but I can’t. He seems to notice the way I am reacting to him, and he starts driving into me harder, cranking whatever device it is he has my legs in, spreading me even wider so that he has access to my wide-open pussy. The sensation teeters on the edge of pain, my lips spread wide to accommodate his impressive cock, as he gropes at my tits again, squeezing the nipple clamps a little tighter. I am sure they will leave marks, and the thought thrills me a little – a reminder of the control that he has taken from me.

He fucks me hard and mercilessly, until I feel his cock starting to throb inside of me. The pressure in my pussy is starting to build, but I get the feeling that he isn’t going to let me release it. This is about him – him taking me, showing me the ropes, quite literally. I can feel that aching deep within me, but I can’t do anything other than try to push back against him. Nothing seems to sate me, and all I can do is hope that he is going to let me finish.

He slams himself into me one last time, holds himself there for a long moment, and I feel the throbbing of his cock as he fills the condom with his semen. I groan, squeezing my muscles around him, needing more, but unable to get it before he pulls out and snaps the device off my legs. I tense my thighs together, trying to find at least a little something in the way of release, but there is nothing – nothing that I can do other than let him grab me by the back of the neck and pull me away from whatever it is he has been fucking me in.

"You took that well," he tells me, his mouth close enough that I can feel his warm breath. My nipples were still aching beneath the clamps, and my underwear is still half-down my legs. I am a mess, and I know I must look it to match.

"Come on," he growls, guiding me across the room. I stumble, hardly able to stand up straight, my whole system oversensitized by the powerful pressure between my legs.

He pushes me down, ducking my head low, and I hear the clinking and clanking of metal – what is he doing to me now? Since he came, I assumed he’d be done with me for the time being, but it seems like he has more in store for me yet.

I hear the click of a lock, still unable to see anything behind the bag that he has thrust over my head. I try to lift myself, but I bump the top of my skull on some bars. My heart flips – am I locked up?

"Now, stay here," he tells me. "I’ll come get you when I’m ready. And don’t take that bag off your head – I'll be watching you on CCTV. You understand?"

"Yes..." I manage.

"Good. Now, you stay here, and you think about what you’ve done..."

And with that, I hear footsteps retreating.

At first, I try to shift around a little, find a comfortable spot. It feels like everything is digging into me, but I suppose that’s the point. It isn’t meant to be comfortable, it’s meant to feel like a punishment – a punishment for my desires, for what I was so willing to do for this man that I just met.

And I find myself, soon, following his commands – thinking about what I’ve done. I still can’t believe that I managed to get myself into this, but now that I have… I’m sure that it’s for me. Intense? Yes. But it’s frustrating, too, not being able to see or touch or taste, nothing on my own terms. It’s fun for a one-off, but I can’t see myself wanting to come back and do this over and over again.

Eventually, feeling bold, I reach up to tug the hood off my head and let it fall to the ground – I have no idea if he is still watching me or if he has grown bored of it by now. I want to see where I am.

And, when I do, I almost laugh at how crazy it is. It looks like a cage, meant for a large dog, the bars thin and strong and the lock heavy and screwed tight shut. On the floor, at my feet, is a small bowl filled with water – clearly, my only sustenance as long as I am in here. I shift back and forth, trying to get my bearings, and glance around, looking for the camera. Does he enjoy seeing me like this? Probably...

Now that I am coming down from the crazy adrenaline rush, I am starting to figure out that this just isn’t for me. Bondage is… interesting. And I’m glad that I could give Jake another story of a bondage virgin to boast about. But, as I sit there on the floor of the cage, I mostly wonder how much longer it will be before he lets me out and I can get back to my own bed again. For the first time in a while, I want to snuggle up next to my husband and tell him everything that has happened, so that we can laugh about it together. Hell, maybe he’ll get ideas about locking me up in a dog cage to keep me out of his way when I am pissing him off...

But for now, I know I’m satisfied with everything I’ve seen. I’ve managed to scratch the itch for more dominance, and now I am over it. That doesn’t mean my exploration of my sexuality is done with – there is a lot more for me to explore yet, and I intend to take every chance I can to do just that.

Just as soon as I got out of this dog cage.