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On my second visit the elevator was already familiar, as was that feeling of dread that I experienced the first time. Only this time it was tempered with a knowledge of what lay ahead for me, or at least what I thought lay ahead for me. And I think that was what kept my stomach in a know. Not truly knowing where the limits were. Knowing instead that this woman set new limits with every breath. She sized me up quickly last week and pushed me past what I thought I’d be willing to do. And now that she held her videotape of me, we both knew that she held the cards.

I knew when the doors open that I would do what she wanted to avoid having that tape sent out. Even worse, I knew I would do anything she even without the tape. I was addicted. Not addicted to something as simple as sex. But addicted to the adrenaline rush of going further than I normally would go. Addicted to the knowledge that I would push what ever taboos she wanted me to. Addicted to being someone else’s toy.

The elevator slowed quickly and once again opened up to her austere apartment. The same leather and chrome furniture The same elegant furnishings. The same high tech flat screen monitor that I had watched the actions of her other pets, not realizing she was taping me in the same way she had taped them. Not realizing that the man who appeared from nowhere and offered me his cock to suck was the same man in the movie and was probably held under the same sway with which she held me. ...

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