Abyss of Pleasure “It was a warm night, the air pulsating with the anticipation of what was to come. The room was dimly lit, with red and gold tones illuminating my body. He entered the chat room, as usual, with no image, no sound. Just words. And with him, he brought that energy that always disarmed me, as if he knew exactly what to say to leave me at the mercy of his intentions. “I can feel you looking at me now, even without seeing me, without hearing me,” he wrote, and a shiver ran down my skin. How did he know? He always knew. With each line he typed, his presence became more intense, invading my mind in a way that no physical touch ever had. His words wrapped around me like a hug, as if they were invisible fingers exploring every part of my body. He described, in detail, where his hands would be at that moment, how they would be tracing imaginary lines on the curve of my neck, slowly descending to my collarbone, almost like a caress. “I feel your breathing quicken, the heat that emanates from your body as my hand gently descends... slowly, without haste, exploring every inch of you, as if I had all the time in the world,” he continued. I could swear I felt that touch, even though I knew it was pure imagination. The intensity of his words, the care with which he chose each detail, made my body heat up, preparing for what was to come. He described me in a state of almost unbearable desire, ready to explode, and yet he held it, controlled it, as if he were always in control of my pleasure. “You don’t need to see me, you don’t need to hear me to feel it. I know you so well that I know the exact moment your skin starts to burn with anxiety, wanting more, asking for more,” he said. And it was true. Each word seemed to make my skin vibrate, as if he were there, beside me, guiding my movements, suggesting without ever ordering, knowing exactly how to make me on the verge of collapse. He narrated precisely where his hands would be now – one on my waist, firm, holding me in place while the other slowly descended between my legs, not really touching, just floating, just hinting at what could happen next. That hesitation was part of the game, and he knew it. He knew that my mind was full of images that he planted in each word, in each comma. “Now, I’m holding you tighter, controlling the rhythm, because I want your pleasure to be complete, I want to see – or better yet, feel – the exact moment when you lose control, when you give yourself completely to me,” he typed, and my legs trembled slightly. He continued describing how, even without touch, he knew I was on the edge, about to reach that point of no return. “I want to feel the heat of your pleasure exploding, so strong that I can almost taste it. Your pleasure is what guides me, what gives me power,” he concluded, and I could no longer contain the moan that escaped my lips. At that moment, the tension was so great that everything around me disappeared. I was in his hands, in his words, each sentence took me closer to the peak. And when he finally gave me permission, with a last whispered sentence in the silence of the chat, I surrendered. The pleasure came in waves, each one more intense than the last, while he described exactly what was happening on the other side, as if he were feeling and experiencing everything alongside me. And then, silence. He didn’t need to say anything else. We both knew we had gotten there, together, even separated by a screen. The intensity of that encounter was like no other. He dominated without dominating, guided without needing more than words. And I, more and more, found myself surrendering to the power he had over my body and mind. The encounter, always so fantastical, was real in the way he knew every part of me, every hidden desire. He was the master of pleasure, and I, a blank canvas for his desires. In his arms, time loses its meaning, and reality dissolves in a hypnotic dance of sensations. Each touch, each sigh, took us deeper into an abyss of unexplored pleasure, where I surrendered myself completely, losing myself and finding myself at the same time. When, finally, we reached the peak, we were no longer two, but one being, made of fire, desire and abandonment.” FMF