There were moments my girlfriend had suspected my desires to be dominated, but I had denied her suspicions with fervour. I couldn't say the exact reason why, but I knew that as soon as the barrier was flattened, anything could follow.
She teased by taking control in the bedroom; she would watch me quiver and my breaths deeper as she stood over me, straddled me and pushed me onto the bed, my arms pinned as she ran her nails along my chest and grabbed the base of my cock with a vigour that made it stiffen to her commands.
She teased that she was in charge, even when I thought I was. I argued, thinking she could be fooled into believing I was a strong and dominant male, but she saw through my cock-sure pretences. She would get me hard in the kitchen and walk to the bedroom, only to be sat reading a book when I got there. She would ask if I wanted something, then flash a wicked grin when I said I thought we would have sex.
"You're desperate for me, aren't you?" she mocked one day.
"I could make you cum with one hand tied behind my back"- I tried to show faith in my own sexual prowess.
She wore skirts and knee socks for the next week, and batted away my advances with vague excuses, and a week later, when I got home from work, she had cleared the furniture from the living room and stood with rope dangling from her fingers. "So, you think you can make me cum with one hand tied behind your back?..." She left a pause for my recollection. "Prove it", she whispered.