How much control would you hand to a stranger? Would you ever be willing to sexually submit to one? Today’s incredible guest blog is about two people who decided to take a risky, sexy leap into the unknown, and the hot scene that transpired when they met in person. It should go without saying (but I’ll say it anyway) that this is not a how-to guide. The people who did this are both experienced kinksters who care about safety, knew each other by reputation and embarked on detailed consent negotiations. It’s not a risk everyone should take, but I’m delighted to publish this guest blog because it’s written by two people whose reputations for care and consent in kink precede them: please welcome the fabulous EuclideanPoint and Harley (of HarlequinWorks) who have an unusual and very hot story to tell…
Note that this story contains pretend kidnapping, impact play, blood play, and restraints.
Obedient to a stranger
‘I never really thought about an information differential as being a power thing, but it’s quite interesting isn’t it.’
‘Why do i want to do horrible things to please you?’
‘Fuck, what if I wasn’t benevolent?’
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This is the story of two people who started talking on the internet. Two people who discovered that they both have a shared fear kink. Two people who, within a few weeks of their first private messages to each other, met for a date in a rental dungeon. This was a risky proposition, and it only went ahead because as the dominant partner, I knew that I was safe, and that I wouldn’t push the scene too far. Harley had no such reassurance.
I still have no idea where Harley finds the courage and the strength to give me so much power and control. So much access to his life, and his body. I only know that I am loving every minute of it.
By the Obedient Harley
It’s hard to say when I first met Sir, exactly. Was it the first time she touched me, or the first time I saw her face? Those two things, in that order, were separated by several hours.
Sometimes, in order to do things that are extremely hot, you have to make objectively bad decisions. Meeting up with someone I’d been aware of on Twitter for a few years before it imploded, and with whom I was 80% sure I had a mutual contact, without knowing anything more than her name (an unfortunate oversight), or knowing what she looked like, to let her restrain me and do things to me that were, until very recently, hard limits, was one of those times.
There were a lot of firsts for me in the few hours that followed her coming up behind me on the street, blindfolding me, and leading me away. Some of them I was expecting, some of them I didn’t have any idea about. Going in, I was determined to be obedient, to do what I was told no matter what.
Sometimes bad decisions have a way of working out for the best.
By The Stranger, EuclideanPoint
I remember so clearly the first time I looked into Harley’s eyes.
He was kneeling on a footstool in front of me, and I’d just ordered him to remove the cloth bag that I’d earlier shoved over his head. I had to put my hand under his chin and lift his head from his default position – head bowed, eyes downcast. Even then I had to command him to look at me.
The sight that met him was my Guy Fawkes mask that I’d bought from the internet for this, our first date. Something we’d jokingly discussed early on, but I wasn’t sure if he’d remember. A way I could closely watch his reactions whilst prolonging the time that he would be tortured by someone whose face he had never seen.
By the time of our first meeting, I had an astonishing amount of information about Harley. Personal details, life history, banking information. Photos, videos, most of which were shot at my request. There isn’t a question I’ve asked him that he has not answered fully and openly.
In return, he was able to read what little I post to my anonymous Bluesky account. Oh, and we eventually swapped mobile numbers so we could more easily message each other (and so I could live track his location as and when I demanded). He calls me Sir, and we had decided that Prey was a good description for his role in our dynamic. I threatened him with some terrible things and he begged me to hurt him, to destroy him, before he even knew my name.
By the time I ditched the mask and he saw my face for the very first time, we’d already spent an hour in the dungeon together. Earlier that day, I had kidnapped him on the street, approaching him from behind and wrapping a blindfold around his eyes before leading him to our location. In the four hours that we were together, he was tied, clamped, paddled, caned, burned, flogged, shocked, and stabbed with pointy things. I wrote that he was my property, on his chest, using as ink his own blood.
I did not make things easy for him.
He did everything exactly as he was told.
Our second date is coming up, this time a full 24 hours together. Since our first meeting we’ve got to know each other a lot better so this time I feel confident that I can really push him.
I wonder if this will be the first time I hear him say my name?