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Submission and Permission

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By *unner6969 OP Man 13 weeks ago

London & Surrounding Area

The two friends stand together when I first look at them. Same clothes. Same posture.

“Eva.”

You respond immediately.

“Take two steps forward. Stop.”

You do. Your friend stays where she is.

“You,” I say to her, “may watch. You will stay silent.”

She nods. She doesn’t move again.

I turn back to you.

“Stand still, Eva.”

You shift your weight without realising.

“Plant your feet,” I correct quietly.

You do.

You’re wearing shoes, socks, a skirt, a top. I let the silence stretch before I speak again…

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By *unner6969 OP Man 13 weeks ago

London & Surrounding Area

“When I tell you to undress, you do it once,” I say evenly. “If you make a mistake, I’ll correct it. Don’t anticipate.”

You inhale.

“Shoes first.”

You bend straight away.

“Pause.”

You stop.

“Upright first,” I say. “Then move.”

You correct yourself, then step out of your shoes one at a time. The second lands a little out of place.

“Place it properly.”

You do.

I don’t fill the quiet.

“Socks.”

You slide them down. One catches briefly at your heel. You steady yourself with your hands.

“Don’t use your hands,” I say. “Balance with your feet.”

You fix it and stand still again.

I step closer. Still no touch.

“Now the top.”

You lift it once. A little too quickly.

“Slow.”

You ease the movement, let it clear your shoulders properly, then stop with it in your hands.

“Drop it.”

It falls.

I wait.

“Turn around.”

You do.

“Relax your shoulders,” I say. “You’re not bracing.”

They lower.

“Skirt.”

You slide it down and step out. Your timing’s slightly off — you move your feet before I’d have said to — then you stop yourself.

“Finish the step,” I say calmly.

You do.

“Face me.”

You turn.

I let the pause stretch.

“Bra.”

Your fingers go to the clasp. You fumble it slightly, then still.

“Don’t rush,” I say. “Finish it.”

You unclasp it properly and slide it off your shoulders. You hold it, unsure.

“Drop it.”

It joins the rest on the floor.

I don’t touch you.

“Knickers.”

You hook your thumbs into the waistband and hesitate again.

“Complete the movement,” I say. “Then stop.”

You lower them and step out, posture uncertain but obedient.

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By *arenxdbiTV/TS 13 weeks ago

Marlborough

Oh god yes xxx

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By *unner6969 OP Man 13 weeks ago

London & Surrounding Area

I let you stand there knowing you’re being watched.

Then I hold out the blindfold.

“Take this.”

You reach.

“No,” I say gently, taking it back. “I’ll do it.”

I step in close and place it over your eyes myself, adjusting it carefully, pulling it snug, checking the fit with my thumbs.

“Can you see anything, Eva?”

“No.”

“Good.”

I step away.

“Onto the bed. Carefully.”

You climb up. The mattress shifts and you react instinctively.

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By *unner6969 OP Man 13 weeks ago

London & Surrounding Area

You climb up — hands down, knees on the mattress, your body offering itself without being asked.

I don’t touch you.

I don’t raise my voice.

“No,” I say quietly.

You freeze.

“Stand up.”

You hesitate, unsure if you’ve misunderstood.

“On your feet,” I repeat. “Facing forward.”

You correct yourself immediately, rising carefully until you’re standing again. I let the pause stretch — long enough for you to feel the mistake, not as shame, but as information.

“Hands up,” I add. “All the way. Fingers open.”

You do as you’re told, arms lifting, body lengthening, leaving nowhere to hide. That posture changes everything. I want you aware of that.

“Good,” I say. “Hold it.”

Behind you, your friend hasn’t moved — but she has shifted. A subtle adjustment of her stance. A swallow she doesn’t quite manage to hide. She’s watching carefully now, learning without being invited.

I move around you slowly. You can’t see me, which is the point. When my hand finally comes close, it doesn’t settle. It brushes.

A palm glides along your side, following the curve of your body, then leaves. Fingers trace the line of your arm, down to your wrist, then release it before you can respond.

You inhale.

“Still,” I say, not unkindly.

You steady yourself.

My touch returns somewhere else — a slow pass along your back, fingers spreading, then lifting away. I let the absence stretch longer than the contact. You don’t know where I am now. That uncertainty makes your body listen harder.

Your friend shifts again. Just a little. She presses her thighs together without realising she’s done it. I notice. I don’t acknowledge her.

My hand brushes your hip lightly, then trails down your leg, following the line, never lingering, never announcing itself. When your toes curl, I stop.

“Feet flat,” I correct calmly.

You obey.

“That’s better.”

I move again. Fingers skim your shoulder, your neck, then vanish. My palm passes close enough to feel but not close enough to satisfy. Each touch is deliberate, each withdrawal intentional.

You try to anticipate — leaning a fraction toward where you think I’ll be.

I remove my hand instantly.

“No,” I say softly. “You don’t chase touch. You let it find you.”

You correct yourself, breathing slower now, working to stay exactly where I put you.

Behind you, your friend exhales quietly through her nose. She’s still silent, still watching, but her attention is no longer abstract. She’s imagining. Measuring where she fits. I allow that to happen.

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By *unner6969 OP Man 13 weeks ago

London & Surrounding Area

I return my focus to you.

My fingers trace along your hands, one at a time, brushing over your palms, then sliding away. I move behind you again, close enough that you can feel me without knowing where the next contact will land.

“Notice this,” I say calmly. “Your body wants to move. Your job is not to.”

I step back.

The space hums.

“Hold the position,” I add. “This isn’t about offering yourself. It’s about control.”

Blindfolded, arms raised, standing exactly where I placed you, Eva, you stay still — aware of every place you’ve been touched, every place that might be next.

And behind you, in the quiet, your friend watches — learning more than I’ve said aloud.

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By *unner6969 OP Man 13 weeks ago

London & Surrounding Area

[Removed by poster at 02/02/26 21:38:35]

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By *unner6969 OP Man 13 weeks ago

London & Surrounding Area

I don’t move Eva.

I let her stay exactly where she is — blindfolded, arms raised, still — long enough that she wonders if she’s finished or only paused.

Then I speak.

“Eva.”

“Yes.”

“You’re paying attention,” I say. “Good. You’re going to use that.”

I turn my head slightly.

“You,” I say to her friend. “Step forward. Stand where Eva was.”

She does, careful, a little unsure now that she’s no longer just watching.

I step in close to Eva. Not touching. Just close enough that my voice lands where I want it.

“I’m not going to repeat myself,” I tell her quietly. “You’re going to guide her. Exactly as you were guided.”

A pause.

“You correct. You don’t rush. You don’t touch unless you’re sure.”

Eva swallows. I hear it.

“Yes.”

I step back. The shift is subtle but absolute.

“Remove the blindfold, Eva.”

She does, blinking as the room returns. Her eyes flick to her friend — naked anticipation there now, mixed with nerves — then back to me.

“Good,” I say. “Begin.”

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By *unner6969 OP Man 13 weeks ago

London & Surrounding Area

Eva turns to her friend. There’s a moment where she almost smiles, then thinks better of it.

“Stand still,” she says, voice softer than mine — but steady.

Her friend adjusts automatically.

“Feet planted,” Eva adds, correcting without raising her voice. “Don’t fidget.”

It works. Her friend stills.

Eva hesitates — just a beat too long.

I tilt my head.

“Don’t ask,” I say calmly. “Tell.”

Eva straightens.

“Shoes first,” she says.

Her friend bends too quickly.

“Pause,” Eva says, catching it. “Upright. Then move.”

Her friend corrects herself, slower now. More aware.

I don’t interrupt. I let Eva find the rhythm.

As the clothes come off — one instruction at a time — Eva watches closely. She mirrors what she felt: the pauses, the waiting, the space left deliberately empty. When her friend rushes, Eva slows her. When she freezes, Eva gives her just enough permission to continue.

Behind it all, Eva is learning something new: how power feels when it’s held, not received.

When her friend finally stands exposed and waiting, Eva glances at me — a silent question.

I nod once.

“Blindfold,” Eva says.

Her friend reaches for it.

Eva stops her, almost instinctively.

“No,” she says. “I’ll do it.”

She places it carefully, adjusting it the way it was done to her. Not copying — understanding.

When her friend moves too soon after, Eva corrects her quietly.

“Still. Don’t anticipate.”

Her friend obeys.

I watch Eva closely now — not to judge, but to see where she needs me.

She places her friend on the bed, corrects her stance, lifts her arms gently but firmly.

And when her friend instinctively leans toward her —

Eva pauses.

Then, with growing confidence:

“No,” she says softly. “You don’t move towards touch. You wait for it.”

Her friend stills immediately.

Eva exhales — not relief, but recognition.

I step forward just enough for Eva to sense me there.

“That,” I say quietly, “is exactly it.”

Eva doesn’t look away from her friend. She holds the moment.

And both of them understand something now:

this isn’t about copying what I did — it’s about listening, and then passing it on.

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By *unner6969 OP Man 13 weeks ago

London & Surrounding Area

“Still,” Eva adds, softer now — but certain.

Her friend stills.

Eva hesitates, just for a breath, then lifts her hands. I don’t intervene. I watch how she places them — not rushing, not claiming too much at once.

Her palms move slowly, guided more by memory than confidence. She traces along her friend’s sides, following the shape there, then lifts away. Fingers brush along her arms, down to her hands, then separate again, leaving space where touch just was.

Her friend reacts immediately — breath catching, shoulders tightening — and Eva stops.

“Don’t move,” Eva says, quietly but firmly.

Her friend obeys. She swallows. Holds herself still.

Eva continues. Her touch is deliberate now — learning where to linger just long enough to be felt, where to withdraw so the absence does the work. She moves around her friend, hands travelling, never announcing themselves, never settling long enough to become comfortable.

I see her start to mirror what she felt earlier — the pauses, the unpredictability. Her friend doesn’t know where the next contact will come from. That’s the point.

When her friend leans — only a fraction — Eva notices.

She stops immediately.

“No,” Eva says, calm but unmistakable. “You stay where you are.”

Her friend stills again, visibly working to obey.

Eva lowers her hands slowly, deliberately, and steps back.

She doesn’t fill the space.

She leaves her friend standing there — aware of every place she was touched, every place she wasn’t — arms down, body alert, waiting without instruction.

Only then does Eva glance at me.

I meet her eyes and give a single, approving nod.

She turns back to her friend.

“Hold it,” Eva says. “Don’t move.”

And she steps away, leaving her friend standing alone on the bed, learning exactly how loud silence can be.

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By *unner6969 OP Man 13 weeks ago

London & Surrounding Area

I let Eva take a step back from her friend.

I don’t speak immediately. I reach instead into my pocket and produce a second blindfold.

“Eva.”

She turns toward my voice.

“Hold still.”

I step in and place it in her hands.

She doesn’t expect it. I see the flicker of surprise before she schools herself.

“Put it on.”

She does, adjusting it quickly — a little too quickly.

“Slower,” I say. “Make it secure.”

She fixes it properly.

I step back.

“Onto the bed,” I tell her. “Stand. Face her.”

Eva climbs up carefully and turns until they’re facing each other — both blindfolded now, both naked, both standing close enough to feel each other’s presence without touching.

I let that land.

They breathe differently. You can hear it. So can they.

“No contact,” I say calmly. “Not yet.”

Eva’s fingers twitch once. Her friend shifts her weight.

“Still,” I add. “Both of you.”

They obey.

I let the pause stretch longer than either of them expects. Long enough that the anticipation becomes physical. Long enough that not touching feels like an instruction in itself.

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By *unner6969 OP Man 9 weeks ago

London & Surrounding Area

Shall I continue?

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By *unner6969 OP Man 9 weeks ago

London & Surrounding Area

“You’re allowed to reach out,” I say at last. “Palms and fingers only.”

Another pause.

“No embracing. No pulling closer. You explore — you don’t claim.”

Both of them move at once, then stop themselves.

“Together,” I correct quietly.

They raise their hands slowly now, feeling for each other in the air between them. Fingertips meet first — tentative, electric — then palms, sliding carefully, learning shape and warmth without being allowed to close the distance.

Their hands travel cautiously, tracing arms, shoulders, sides — mapping without holding. Every instinct tells them to move closer. Every rule tells them not to.

Eva’s breath catches. Her friend exhales slowly, deliberately, steadying herself.

“Good,” I say softly. “Notice how much there is without closing the space.”

They continue, fingers exploring, palms gliding, discovering each other inch by inch — never embracing, never losing the tension between them.

I don’t rush them.

I don’t interrupt.

I just watch — both of them blindfolded, standing face to face, learning exactly how much control lives in what they’re not allowed to do.

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By *unner6969 OP Man 9 weeks ago

London & Surrounding Area

Their hands are moving now with confidence — palms sliding, fingers tracing, the space between them charged with intent. Their breathing is no longer careful. It doesn’t need to be.

I let it go on just long enough.

Then—

“Stop.”

Both of them freeze instantly. Hands suspended for a heartbeat, then dropping cleanly to their sides.

“Hands down,” I add. “Stay still.”

They obey without hesitation. The contrast is sharp — motion to stillness, heat to restraint.

I step closer, slow, deliberate.

“Notice how much you want to move,” I say calmly. “And how easily you don’t.”

I let that settle.

“Now,” I continue, “you may remove your blindfolds.”

They do it carefully, almost reverently. The moment their eyes meet — fully, clearly, without fabric or rules between them — something shifts. They see each other properly for the first time.

I don’t rush the next part.

“You’ve both done exactly what I asked,” I say. “You listened. You waited.”

A pause.

“You may finish each other now.”

I step back. I don’t give instructions. I don’t add rules.

I simply watch as permission changes everything — as restraint gives way to choice, and choice lands heavier because it was earned.

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By *andy IanMan 9 weeks ago

cheshire/Preston

Oh yes don’t stop now