He flipped it open. The door’s open, the text message read. Let yourself in and wait for me in the dining room. He swallowed nervously and got out of the car. Though he enjoyed this kind of power-exchange, he wasn’t without some apprehension. Part of the thrill for him came from giving up control, letting someone else push his limits, mostly by tapping into the depths of the primal and instinctive: Vulnerability. Pain. Immobility.For him, this voluntary surrender of control was a way of staring the fight-or-flight instinct down and saying "No, I want this, and I will have it". Though it was entirely consensual and deeply pleasurable, it still unnerved him enough that his hands shook as he held the railing on the way up the stairs to her door. The apartment was eerily quiet, the click of the door echoing down the seemingly empty hall. "Kat?" No answer. He left his shoes and jacket by the door and went into the dining room as her message had ordered.
