"Private Audience – Part IV: Training Weekend" Friday, 8:00 p.m. Theo was in the parking lot of her building, as ordered. An entire weekend under the command of the woman who already controlled his mind — now, she would take over his body too. Emanuelle appeared at the apartment door dressed in black. A tight dress with a low back, stiletto heels and dark red lipstick. She didn't even need to speak — just her look was enough to make Theo double inside. But she spoke. — Leave your cell phone here. Last time you'll have control over anything until Monday. He handed it over. He went inside. The door closed with a heavy, almost symbolic click. Emanuelle locked it, turned the key, and hung it on a necklace she placed around her neck. — This key is yours. But only if you deserve it. The apartment was minimalist, modern, with few pieces of furniture… but with subtle touches of a life that was anything but ordinary: handcuffs discreetly attached to the headboard, a spanking bench in a corner, candles, ropes, and a shelf with more toys than any sex shop. “Take off your clothes. Bend over. Kneel. Don’t talk without permission.” Theo obeyed. His every gesture was trained, trained. Emanuelle circled him like a tamer analyzing her creature. “This weekend is about your reprogramming. It’s not a game. It’s training. Understand?” “Yes, ma’am.” She pulled a black collar from the drawer and put it around his neck. She attached a leash and led him on his knees through the house to the bedroom. Theo felt naked inside—and completely surrendered. In the bedroom, she stood him up and tied his open arms to the handcuffs on the wall. His legs were spread and tied with leather straps. A human X, exposed. Helpless. “Today I’m going to fuck you until your name is obedience.” She started slowly: spanks on his thigh, then his chest. Then candles—hot wax dripping onto precise points on his abdomen, between his nipples. He arched, but didn’t complain. Every pain was pleasure. Then came the nipple clamps. Then the gag. And then Emanuelle put on a harness with a thick strap-on. She lubed him slowly. She smiled. “You’ll thank me for every thrust.” She thrust hard into Theo, holding his hips firmly. He moaned against the gag, his eyes wet—but it wasn’t pain. It was surrender. She trained him with thrusts, pauses, orders, insults, and rewards. A process of deconstruction—and construction. After minutes that felt like hours, she removed the harness, uncuffed him, and laid him on the bed. She sat on his face and said, “Prove that you still deserve to breathe my scent.” Theo licked her like an addict in withdrawal. She came slowly, holding his head against her as if he were a living pillow. And then… the weekend really began. Saturday: Theo woke up with handcuffs on his ankles and a plug already inserted. Breakfast naked, on his knees, being fed by her mouth. Then, obedience exercises: positions, commands, humiliating tasks. She made him crawl on the floor of the apartment with a tail attached to the plug. She made him lick her heel until it shone. She made him masturbate on his knees while repeating: “I am the property of Mistress Emanuelle.” But he couldn’t come. He could only thank her. Sunday: Last phase of training: total immobilization. Theo was tied with shibari, partially suspended from the floor, his entire body vulnerable, his cock tied with rope. Emanuelle teased him with vibration, spanking, kisses and endless pauses. When she finally let him come, it was with his mouth full of her, his eyes closed, his body limp, his ego extinguished. Emanuelle held him in her arms afterwards. She caressed him. She whispered: — My good boy. The part that excites me the most about destroying you… is rebuilding you afterwards. Monday, 6 am. Training is over. She dressed him. She gave him a dry kiss on the lips and handed him back his cell phone. — The world outside is calling you. But inside, you are mine. Theo walked down the building slowly. His body ached. His soul was at peace. More than a submissive. He was hers.