“Kneel.”The word sliced through the air, sharp and unyielding. My knees hit the floor before I could even process the command. The cold hardwood pressed against my skin, sending a shiver up my spine. I could feel every eye in the room on me, their gazes like a weight pressing down on my shoulders. My heart pounded in my chest, a frantic rhythm that matched the throbbing between my legs.“Look at me, Emma.”The voice was velvet wrapped in steel, smooth but unbreakable. I lifted my chin, my eyes meeting hers for the first time since I’d stepped into the private room. Mistress Sophia stood before me, her presence dominating the space. She was tall, her silhouette framed by the soft glow of the room’s dim lighting. Her black leather corset hugged her curves, the material gleaming like liquid night. Her long, dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her eyes—those piercing, almost predatory eyes—locked onto mine with an intensity that made my breath catch.“You came to me, didn’t you?” she purred, her Italian accent rolling over the words like a caress. “You asked for this. You begged for it.”I nodded, my throat too dry to speak. My hands trembled at my sides, but I didn’t dare move them. I knew better. I’d spent weeks attending her workshops, watching her command the room with a single glance, watching her subs melt under her touch. I’d written about this in my journal, fantasized about it endlessly, but now that I was here, really here, I felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to plummet.“Words, Emma.” Her voice was a whip, cracking through the air. “Use them.”“Yes, Mistress Sophia,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “I… I asked for this.”She stepped closer, the sound of her heels clicking against the floor like a metronome counting down to something inevitable. My breath hitched as she stopped just inches from me. Her scent enveloped me—leather, lavender, and something darker, something intoxicating. She reached out, her gloved fingers tilting my chin up further.“You’ve been watching me,” she said, her voice low, almost teasing. “I’ve seen you. Sitting in the back row of my workshops, scribbling in that little notebook of yours. What were you writing, Emma? Fantasies? Confessions?”I swallowed hard, my cheeks burning. “Both,” I admitted, my voice trembling.“And what did you imagine would happen if you approached me? If you confessed your desires?” Her fingers traced a line down my neck, the cool leather sending a shiver through me.“I…” I hesitated, my mind racing. What had I imagined? That she’d take me into her arms? That she’d claim me immediately? The reality was so much more overwhelming, so much more… real.“Speak.” Her voice was a command, one that brooked no disobedience.“I thought… I thought you might take me,” I stammered. “That you might… own me.”A slow, predatory smile spread across her lips. “Own you?” she repeated, her voice dripping with amusement. “Such a bold request from such a little girl. Do you even know what that means, Emma? Do you know what it takes to belong to someone like me?”I shook my head, my pulse quickening. “No, Mistress Sophia. But I want to learn. I want… I want to be yours.”She leaned down, her lips brushing against my ear. “Then prove it.”---It had started innocently enough—or as innocently as anything involving Mistress Sophia could. I’d been attending her public power-exchange workshops for weeks, drawn in by her confidence, her authority, her sheer magnetism. She was everything I wasn’t: powerful, commanding, unapologetically herself. I’d sit in the back row, my journal open in my lap, scribbling down every word she said, every gesture she made. I’d write about her, about what it would feel like to kneel before her, to surrender to her completely.I was a twenty-two-year-old college student, working toward a degree in creative writing. My days were spent buried in books and my nights in front of my laptop, typing out stories that never quite felt finished. I’d never been in a serious relationship, and my sexual experience was limited to a few awkward encounters in high school that left me feeling more confused than fulfilled. Still, I knew what I wanted—or at least, I thought I did.My fantasies had always been vivid, consuming. I’d discovered lesbian domination porn in my late teens, and it had become my secret obsession. The way the dominatrixes commanded their subs, the way they wielded power with such effortless grace—it fascinated me. I’d spend hours reading stories about leather-clad dykes and their obedient sapphic slaves, my body reacting in ways I didn’t fully understand. I’d feel a flush of warmth between my legs, my breath hitching as I imagined myself in the subs’ place. It wasn’t just the physicality of it that drew me in; it was the surrender, the trust, the way the power dynamic seemed to strip away everything but raw, unfiltered desire. My very first orgasm came as I read a story of a young woman surrendering to a Domme.But I’d never acted on those fantasies. I’d written about them in my journal, filling page after page with detailed scenes of submission, but it had always felt like something separate from my real life. That was, until I stumbled upon one of Mistress Sophia’s workshops. Watching her in person, seeing the way she controlled a room with nothing but her voice and her presence, had shattered the barrier between fantasy and reality. For the first time, I wanted to experience it—not just imagine it.It was after one of those workshops that I finally worked up the courage to approach her. I waited until the room had cleared out, my heart pounding as I stepped forward. She was at the front of the room, adjusting the straps on one of the bondage tables. When she saw me, she straightened, her gaze sweeping over me with an intensity that made my knees weak.“Can I help you?” she asked, her voice cool but not unkind.“I… I wanted to talk to you,” I stammered, clutching my journal to my chest. “About… about what it’s like. To be a submissive.”She raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a slight smile. “And what makes you think you’re ready to be a submissive?”“I’m not,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “But I want to be. I’ve been… fantasizing about it. About you.”“Me?” Her smile widened, and she stepped closer. “And what exactly do you fantasize about, little girl?”My face burned, but I forced myself to meet her gaze. “About being yours,” I said, my voice trembling. “About being… dominated. Disciplined.”She studied me for a long moment, her eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re inexperienced,” she said finally. “I can see it in your eyes, in the way you hold yourself. Do you know what you’re asking for?”I shook my head. “No,” I admitted. “But I want to find out. I want you to teach me.”She smiled then, a slow, predatory smile that sent a shiver down my spine. “Very well,” she said. “But if you want to learn, you’ll have to prove yourself. Are you ready for that, Emma?”I nodded, my heart racing. “Yes, Mistress Sophia.”“Good.” She reached out, her gloved fingers brushing against my cheek. “Then we’ll begin.”---And now here I was, kneeling before her, my body trembling with anticipation. She’d given me my first task: to kneel before her and not move until she gave me permission. It felt like an eternity, every second stretching out, every breath I took echoing in the silence. My legs ached, my back ached, but I didn’t dare move. I wanted this. I wanted her.“Good girl,” she murmured, her voice softening slightly. “You’re learning already.”Her words sent a rush of warmth through me, and I felt a surge of pride. I could do this. I could prove myself to her.She stepped back, her gaze sweeping over me. “Stand,” she commanded.I stood, my legs wobbling slightly. She circled me, her eyes sharp and assessing. “You’re eager,” she observed. “But eagerness without discipline is meaningless. Do you understand?”“Yes, Mistress Sophia,” I said quickly.“Good.” She stopped in front of me, her gaze locking onto mine. “Your next task will be more… challenging. Are you ready?”I swallowed hard, my pulse quickening. “Yes, Mistress Sophia.”She smiled, a slow, dangerous smile. “Then strip.”

Emma knelt before Mistress Sophia in a private room, submitting to her commanding presence. Mistress Sophia questioned Emma about her fantasies and intentions, demanding proof of her willingness to learn. Emma was then instructed to kneel without moving, followed by the command to strip for her next task.

“Kneel.”

The word sliced through the air, sharp and unyielding. My knees hit the floor before I could even process the command. The cold hardwood pressed against my skin, sending a shiver up my spine. I could feel every eye in the room on me, their gazes like a weight pressing down on my shoulders. My heart pounded in my chest, a frantic rhythm that matched the throbbing between my legs.

“Look at me, Emma.”

The voice was velvet wrapped in steel, smooth but unbreakable. I lifted my chin, my eyes meeting hers for the first time since I’d stepped into the private room. Mistress Sophia stood before me, her presence dominating the space. She was tall, her silhouette framed by the soft glow of the room’s dim lighting. Her black leather corset hugged her curves, the material gleaming like liquid night. Her long, dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her eyes—those piercing, almost predatory eyes—locked onto mine with an intensity that made my breath catch.

“You came to me, didn’t you?” she purred, her Italian accent rolling over the words like a caress. “You asked for this. You begged for it.”

I nodded, my throat too dry to speak. My hands trembled at my sides, but I didn’t dare move them. I knew better. I’d spent weeks attending her workshops, watching her command the room with a single glance, watching her subs melt under her touch. I’d written about this in my journal, fantasized about it endlessly, but now that I was here, really here, I felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to plummet.

“Words, Emma.” Her voice was a whip, cracking through the air. “Use them.”

“Yes, Mistress Sophia,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “I… I asked for this.”

She stepped closer, the sound of her heels clicking against the floor like a metronome counting down to something inevitable. My breath hitched as she stopped just inches from me. Her scent enveloped me—leather, lavender, and something darker, something intoxicating. She reached out, her gloved fingers tilting my chin up further.

“You’ve been watching me,” she said, her voice low, almost teasing. “I’ve seen you. Sitting in the back row of my workshops, scribbling in that little notebook of yours. What were you writing, Emma? Fantasies? Confessions?”

I swallowed hard, my cheeks burning. “Both,” I admitted, my voice trembling.

“And what did you imagine would happen if you approached me? If you confessed your desires?” Her fingers traced a line down my neck, the cool leather sending a shiver through me.

“I…” I hesitated, my mind racing. What had I imagined? That she’d take me into her arms? That she’d claim me immediately? The reality was so much more overwhelming, so much more… real.

“Speak.” Her voice was a command, one that brooked no disobedience.

“I thought… I thought you might take me,” I stammered. “That you might… own me.”

A slow, predatory smile spread across her lips. “Own you?” she repeated, her voice dripping with amusement. “Such a bold request from such a little girl. Do you even know what that means, Emma? Do you know what it takes to belong to someone like me?”

I shook my head, my pulse quickening. “No, Mistress Sophia. But I want to learn. I want… I want to be yours.”

She leaned down, her lips brushing against my ear. “Then prove it.”

---

It had started innocently enough—or as innocently as anything involving Mistress Sophia could. I’d been attending her public power-exchange workshops for weeks, drawn in by her confidence, her authority, her sheer magnetism. She was everything I wasn’t: powerful, commanding, unapologetically herself. I’d sit in the back row, my journal open in my lap, scribbling down every word she said, every gesture she made. I’d write about her, about what it would feel like to kneel before her, to surrender to her completely.

I was a twenty-two-year-old college student, working toward a degree in creative writing. My days were spent buried in books and my nights in front of my laptop, typing out stories that never quite felt finished. I’d never been in a serious relationship, and my sexual experience was limited to a few awkward encounters in high school that left me feeling more confused than fulfilled. Still, I knew what I wanted—or at least, I thought I did.

My fantasies had always been vivid, consuming. I’d discovered lesbian domination porn in my late teens, and it had become my secret obsession. The way the dominatrixes commanded their subs, the way they wielded power with such effortless grace—it fascinated me. I’d spend hours reading stories about leather-clad dykes and their obedient sapphic slaves, my body reacting in ways I didn’t fully understand. I’d feel a flush of warmth between my legs, my breath hitching as I imagined myself in the subs’ place. It wasn’t just the physicality of it that drew me in; it was the surrender, the trust, the way the power dynamic seemed to strip away everything but raw, unfiltered desire.  My very first orgasm came as I read a story of a young woman surrendering to a Domme.

But I’d never acted on those fantasies. I’d written about them in my journal, filling page after page with detailed scenes of submission, but it had always felt like something separate from my real life. That was, until I stumbled upon one of Mistress Sophia’s workshops. Watching her in person, seeing the way she controlled a room with nothing but her voice and her presence, had shattered the barrier between fantasy and reality. For the first time, I wanted to experience it—not just imagine it.

It was after one of those workshops that I finally worked up the courage to approach her. I waited until the room had cleared out, my heart pounding as I stepped forward. She was at the front of the room, adjusting the straps on one of the bondage tables. When she saw me, she straightened, her gaze sweeping over me with an intensity that made my knees weak.

“Can I help you?” she asked, her voice cool but not unkind.

“I… I wanted to talk to you,” I stammered, clutching my journal to my chest. “About… about what it’s like. To be a submissive.”

She raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a slight smile. “And what makes you think you’re ready to be a submissive?”

“I’m not,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “But I want to be. I’ve been… fantasizing about it. About you.”

“Me?” Her smile widened, and she stepped closer. “And what exactly do you fantasize about, little girl?”

My face burned, but I forced myself to meet her gaze. “About being yours,” I said, my voice trembling. “About being… dominated. Disciplined.”

She studied me for a long moment, her eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re inexperienced,” she said finally. “I can see it in your eyes, in the way you hold yourself. Do you know what you’re asking for?”

I shook my head. “No,” I admitted. “But I want to find out. I want you to teach me.”

She smiled then, a slow, predatory smile that sent a shiver down my spine. “Very well,” she said. “But if you want to learn, you’ll have to prove yourself. Are you ready for that, Emma?”

I nodded, my heart racing. “Yes, Mistress Sophia.”

“Good.” She reached out, her gloved fingers brushing against my cheek. “Then we’ll begin.”

---

And now here I was, kneeling before her, my body trembling with anticipation. She’d given me my first task: to kneel before her and not move until she gave me permission. It felt like an eternity, every second stretching out, every breath I took echoing in the silence. My legs ached, my back ached, but I didn’t dare move. I wanted this. I wanted her.

“Good girl,” she murmured, her voice softening slightly. “You’re learning already.”

Her words sent a rush of warmth through me, and I felt a surge of pride. I could do this. I could prove myself to her.

She stepped back, her gaze sweeping over me. “Stand,” she commanded.

I stood, my legs wobbling slightly. She circled me, her eyes sharp and assessing. “You’re eager,” she observed. “But eagerness without discipline is meaningless. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mistress Sophia,” I said quickly.

“Good.” She stopped in front of me, her gaze locking onto mine. “Your next task will be more… challenging. Are you ready?”

I swallowed hard, my pulse quickening. “Yes, Mistress Sophia.”

She smiled, a slow, dangerous smile. “Then strip.”

A young college student, eager yet inexperienced, approaches a seasoned dominatrix to explore her fantasies of submission and discipline. 

The dominatrix challenges her with a series of increasingly intense tasks, pushing her limits and testing her commitment to surrender. 

This story delves into themes of power exchange, humiliation, and the journey from innocence to mastery in the world of BDSM.

Emma Submits To Sophia

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