Some months ago, a man from Europe reached out to me, eager for a pegging session in Shanghai. His message was direct, his desires clear, and I agreed to meet him at his hotel.
The moment I saw him, I noticed something peculiar about the way he walked. At first, I assumed he was crippled, but I kept my thoughts to myself. It wasn’t until he undressed that I realized the truth — he had an artificial leg. He told me it was the result of a car accident. There was no self-pity in his voice, only a quiet acceptance of what life had taken from him.
He was polite, but beneath his calm demeanor, I sensed desperation. He needed this.
When he bent over before me, he begged — pleaded for me to take him from behind. His vulnerability, his raw hunger for submission, ignited something deep within me. I fastened my harness, savoring the anticipation in his trembling breaths. He braced himself, and I gave him exactly what he came for.
With every thrust, I felt his body surrender completely. He groaned, moaned, gasped — letting go of everything except the moment. His missing limb didn’t limit him; if anything, it heightened his need. His desire to be dominated, to be taken, was uninhibited and absolute.
By the time we finished, he lay exhausted but satisfied, his chest rising and falling in quiet relief. He looked at me with gratitude, a silent thank you for giving him what he craved. And in that moment, I realized something profound — his body may have been incomplete, but his submission was whole.