For this British expat in Shanghai, I designed a custom claustrophilia scenario that catered to his deepest desires—restraint, enclosure, and complete surrender to my control. He longed to feel trapped, helpless, and utterly at my mercy, and I was more than eager to craft the perfect experience.
I instructed him to book a hotel room with a spacious yet confining closet—one just large enough to contain him, yet restrictive enough to limit his movement. The walls would press close, the air thick with anticipation, and the door a fragile boundary between freedom and captivity. I ensured the room itself remained dimly lit, with only the faintest slivers of light bleeding through the cracks of the closet door, teasing him with a sense of presence yet distance.
The tension began long before the door shut.
I made him stand before the open closet, circling him like a predator savoring its prey. Occasionally, my fingers traced along his skin, sending shivers down his spine as I whispered in his ear about what was to come. I painted vivid images of his fate—the suffocating darkness swallowing him whole, the silence pressing against his ears, the loss of time making his pulse race.
Would I keep him in complete isolation, or would I speak to him through the door? Would I open it suddenly to startle him, or leave him guessing in the unbearable quiet? The uncertainty was its own form of torment, making his body tense in anticipation.
Once his mind was sufficiently wound tight with expectation, I secured his wrists behind his back with soft leather cuffs, a padded blindfold stealing his vision. His world was already shrinking, but I wasn’t done yet.
With slow, deliberate movements, I guided him into the closet, pressing his back against the wall before closing the door with a quiet, decisive click. The moment the latch caught, the reality of his confinement settled in. His breathing turned shallow, his body instinctively adjusting to the small space that now owned him.
I left a tiny gap in the door—not enough for him to see the outside world, but just enough to let him feel how agonizingly close it was.
The mind plays cruel tricks in the dark. I knew this well.
Sometimes, I pressed my hand against the door, making it creak just slightly, a subtle reminder of my presence. Other times, I stood in complete silence, forcing his imagination to run wild. Had I stepped away? Was I still watching? Would I leave him like this indefinitely?
Minutes stretched, warped by the absence of light, sound, and certainty. I controlled every second, deciding when he would hear my voice, when he would feel the brush of my nails against the door, when the light would momentarily invade his solitude—only to be stolen away again.
Occasionally, I cracked the door just enough to let a sliver of golden light kiss his skin before shutting him back into the abyss. I whispered his name, my voice a phantom in the dark. His breath hitched. He flinched at the sudden scratch of my nails along the wood. And in between these fleeting moments of contact, I let silence stretch unbearably long, deepening his torment, making him wonder if I was still there at all.
To test his submission, I spoke softly through the door, asking quiet, simple questions. He had no choice but to nod or shake his head, reinforcing his obedience even in confinement. A man locked away, yet still mine to command.
When I finally decided he had endured enough, I opened the door slowly, allowing the dim light to seep in, reclaiming him from the shadows. His body tensed as his senses readjusted. I reached for him, guiding him out and down onto his knees before me. My fingers traced his face, grounding him, reassuring him.
I sat beside him on the hotel bed, pulling him close, letting his head rest against me as I stroked his hair. His breathing steadied, his mind gradually surfacing from the abyss I had plunged him into. But in his eyes, I saw it—the lingering thrill, the undeniable craving for more.
Because once you've tasted the exquisite torment of being truly trapped, you never stop longing to be locked away again.