“Kneel” he commands, and it’s not the word that frightens you, nor the curtness of his demand, but the depth and reach of his voice, how it holds you from the inside and takes control.

You search his eyes, playfully testing his patience, wondering how far you can stretch his tolerance. “Come here” he insists, and you huff with defeat and submission, coiling down off his leather couch and pressing your palms into the hardwood of his floor. Your knees rubbing raw as you crawl toward him.