Nights in Chains - Eleonora and Diego

[daddycool]

Chapter 1 – The Encounter

It was a late spring evening in Milan, and the warm air carried the scent of linden flowers and the promise of a night without boundaries. Eleonora, at 61, was a magnetic presence: blonde, with hair that fell in soft golden waves, a voluptuous bosom that elegantly filled her cream-colored silk dress, form-fitting yet sophisticated, accentuating her robust and confident figure. A successful entrepreneur at the helm of a real estate investment company that had secured her a life of luxury, Eleonora had built her existence with determination. Her divorce years earlier had been a turning point: her husband, a weak man unable to handle her need for control, had left her free to pursue what she truly desired. Single by choice, she found pleasure in beautiful things: fine wine, exotic travels, and, above all, the company of handsome younger men, those whose energy and charm reminded her how alive she was, how much she could still dominate.

That evening, she had decided to go out with her best friend, Claudia, a lively woman always ready with a quip, and a gay couple, Luca and Matteo, whom she had known for years and considered like brothers. “Let’s go somewhere special,” Luca had said with a mischievous smile as they sipped aperitifs in a chic bar in Brera, the dim lights reflecting off crystal glasses. “A friendly club where you can breathe freedom and fun. You’ll love it, Ele, I promise.”

Eleonora had agreed enthusiastically, curious to let herself go after a week of meetings, million-dollar contracts, and strategic decisions that had tested even her iron discipline. The club, located in a renovated old warehouse on the city’s outskirts, was an explosion of neon lights, pulsing dance music like a living heart, and an atmosphere charged with energy. Drinks flowed, laughter was loud, and she felt invigorated, her body swaying to the music as she chatted with Claudia at the bar, a flute of champagne in her hand. Luca and Matteo, always impeccable and witty, dragged her onto the dance floor now and then, and for a while, she forgot everything: work, responsibilities, the passage of time. I need this, she thought, letting the music course through her veins. A moment for myself, to feel alive.

That’s when she saw him. On a small stage in the center of the room, illuminated by red and blue lights dancing across his skin, was Diego. Twenty-four years old, 190 centimeters tall, with a muscular, chiseled physique that seemed straight out of a classical sculpture, broad shoulders, and defined abs visible under the light. He wore only a pair of thin, almost transparent briefs that clung perfectly to his slim hips. His dark hair, slightly damp with sweat, fell over his deep, dark eyes, inherited from his South American mother, giving him a mysterious and wild air. He danced hypnotically, every movement charged with sensuality, his hips swaying with natural grace, his arms raised as if offering something to the crowd. He was a gogoboy, and he drew every eye in the room.

A shiver ran down Eleonora’s spine. She set her champagne glass on the bar and turned to Luca, who was laughing with Matteo while mimicking an exaggerated dance move. “Who’s that?” she asked, trying to keep her tone casual, though her heart beat a little faster. There’s something about him, she thought. It’s not just his body. It’s that energy, that vulnerability hidden beneath his strength.

Luca followed her gaze and smiled, exchanging a knowing glance with Matteo. “Ah, that’s Diego. Quite a specimen, isn’t he? He drives everyone crazy here. But don’t worry, Ele, he’s straight. We’ve invited him a couple of times, but he’s never shown interest in us that way. He’s more into… girls, let’s say. Or rather, women like you.”

Eleonora couldn’t hide a satisfied smile. She was pleased to hear it. Knowing he was straight sparked a thrill of excitement, the idea that Diego was available to women like her. She didn’t care about the age difference or conventions: there was something about him, a blend of youth, physical strength, and that exotic charm that made her heart race. He’s a trophy, she thought, but not just any trophy. One I can shape. She decided to act.

She waited for the music to change and for Diego to step down from the stage for a break. She saw him heading toward the bar, sweat glistening on his tanned skin, his muscles flexing with every step. Eleonora smoothed her dress, adjusted a strand of hair, and approached with the grace of someone who knows they hold power but also craves the thrill of the game.

“Hi,” she said, leaning against the bar beside him. Her voice was warm, confident, with an accent that betrayed years of travel and success. “You’re incredible up there. How do you move like that? It’s like you were born for it.”

Diego turned, surprised but not uncomfortable. His dark eyes sized her up for a moment, then a smile lit up his face, revealing perfect white teeth. “Thanks,” he replied, his voice deep yet youthful, with an accent that blended Italian with a faint South American touch. “It’s just practice, but I enjoy it. And you? You don’t seem like the type to get lost in places like this.”

Eleonora laughed, a rich, enveloping sound that drew the attention of those nearby. “Oh, I get lost wherever I want, whenever I want,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “I’m Eleonora. And you, besides being a spectacular dancer, who are you?”

“Diego,” he replied, extending his hand. His fingers were warm and strong, and when they touched, Eleonora felt a spark, an energy she hadn’t felt in a long time. “Nice to meet you, Eleonora. I’ve never seen you here before.”

“It’s my first time,” she admitted, sipping her champagne with an elegant gesture. “But I think I’ll come back if you’re here to make the evening interesting.”

Diego laughed, a low, genuine sound that quickened her pulse. “Well, if that’s the case, maybe I can offer you a drink. What do you take?”

“Champagne, always,” Eleonora replied, locking eyes with him. “But only if you tell me something about yourself. Where are you from? That smile… it’s not just Italian.”

He smiled again, this time with a hint of mystery. “My mother’s Colombian. My father’s Milanese. A mix, I guess. And you? You seem like someone who’s seen the world.”

“Oh, I have,” she said, leaning in slightly. “And I keep looking for new pieces of it. Who knows, maybe you’re one of them.”

The conversation continued, punctuated by laughter and glances that lingered longer than necessary. Around them, the music pulsed, the lights flashed, but for Eleonora and Diego, the world had narrowed to that small space at the bar, where desire was beginning to take shape. I want him, she thought, and I’ll have him. But on my terms.

 

[daddycool]

Chapter 2 – The Spark

The conversation at the bar between Eleonora and Diego grew increasingly intimate, with playful banter and glances that promised much more than mere words. Diego shared fragments of his life: his dreams of becoming a personal trainer, his nights as a gogoboy to scrape together some money, and his South American roots tying him to a mother who had struggled to raise him alone after his father abandoned them when he was six. His voice, deep but with a hint of vulnerability, betrayed a life that hadn’t been easy, marked by financial struggles that pushed him to work harder than he could sometimes bear. “It hasn’t always been easy,” he said, fidgeting with the rim of the beer glass he’d ordered. “But my mom taught me not to give up. I do all this for her.”

Eleonora listened, sipping her champagne, her face impassive but her eyes attentive. Vulnerable, she thought. He needs money, stability. He’s perfect for me. I can give him what he wants, but my way. “She sounds like a strong woman,” she said, her voice soft but tinged with curiosity. “And you? What are you looking for, Diego, besides a few euros to make it to the end of the month?”

He laughed, a bit embarrassed, running a hand through his damp hair. “I don’t know. Maybe something bigger. A future. But for now, I live day by day. And you? What are you looking for on a night like this?”

“Fun,” she replied, tilting her head with a smile that hid a thousand intentions. “And maybe something… interesting to add to my collection of experiences. You could be one of those, you know.”

Diego blushed slightly, but his smile didn’t waver. “A collection, huh? I’m not sure I’m up to par.”

“We’ll find out,” she said, her tone dropping into a veiled promise.

But suddenly, a stage technician approached, tapping him on the shoulder. “Sorry, man, you need to get back up. The next set’s about to start.”

Diego nodded, giving Eleonora an apologetic smile. “I have to go. But I’ll see you later, I hope.”

“I’m counting on it,” she replied, with a mischievous smile that left little to the imagination. She watched him walk away, his 190 centimeters of chiseled muscles moving with natural grace through the crowd, and returned to her group. Claudia, Luca, and Matteo greeted her with curious eyes, drinks still in hand.

“Who was that?” Claudia asked, sipping a brightly colored cocktail, one eyebrow raised in an amused expression.

“An interesting boy,” Eleonora replied, with a shrug that barely concealed her desire. “We’ll see where it takes me.”

It wasn’t long before other men, drawn to her magnetic presence, approached. A man in his thirties, with a too-perfect smile and an open shirt revealing his chest, offered her a drink. “You’re the most fascinating woman in here,” he said, trying to capture her attention with a tone dripping with confidence.

Eleonora dismissed him with a cold, almost bored smile. “Thanks, but I’m not interested,” she cut him off, turning her gaze back to the stage where Diego was climbing back onto the cube. She had eyes for no one but him. The others are ordinary, she thought. He’s different. Something I can control.

The music shifted, growing more intense, and the show began. On stage, alongside the go-go dancers, drag queens appeared, dressed in sparkling costumes and vertiginous heels that defied gravity. The crowd cheered as one of the drags, a tall, charismatic figure with a shocking pink feather boa, grabbed the microphone and announced in a shrill voice: “And now, ladies and gentlemen, the moment you’ve all been waiting for! Let’s strip these gorgeous boys!”

The lights dimmed, except for a beam illuminating the center of the stage. The dancers, Diego included, continued to move, their sweat-glistened bodies swaying sensually. The drag queens approached with theatrical gestures, playfully tearing off the dancers’ thin briefs with swift, jesting motions. The crowd went wild, a chorus of shouts and whistles filling the room, but Eleonora stood still, her breath short. Her eyes were fixed on Diego.

When his briefs were removed, he stood completely naked, his statuesque figure illuminated by the lights. Eleonora noticed every detail: the muscles of his shoulders flexing as he moved, the chiseled abs that seemed carved in stone, and above all, his firm, perfect backside, which made her quiver with desire. He’s made to be admired, she thought, her heart beating faster. And to be mine. She loved to command, to be a mistress who controlled every movement, and that detail—the way Diego’s buttocks tightened as he danced—ignited a fire within her. He was a boy she could bend to her will, she was certain.

Diego quickly covered his private parts with both hands so the audience couldn’t see, an instinctive gesture that made him seem vulnerable yet irresistible. Then, with an embarrassed smile, he stepped down from the cube amid the crowd’s applause and whistles, heading toward the dressing room, still naked, his hands protecting his modesty. He’s not used to this, Eleonora thought, watching him. But he’ll learn. With me.

She didn’t waste time. She quickly excused herself from Claudia, Luca, and Matteo—“I’ll be right back,” she said, though they knew it wasn’t true—and made her way through the crowd, her heart pounding. She reached Diego just before he entered the hallway leading to the dressing rooms. He turned, surprised, his hands still in front of him, sweat dripping down his neck.

“Diego, wait,” she called, her voice firm but charged with an intensity that made him stop. He looked at her, his dark eyes full of curiosity and a hint of nervousness, his breath still rapid from the performance.

“Eleonora, hi,” he said, his voice slightly uncertain. “Sorry if… well, I didn’t expect the drags to be so direct. It doesn’t usually end like that.”

She laughed softly, stepping closer. Her perfume, a mix of vanilla and champagne, enveloped him, mingling with the scent of sweat on his skin. “You shouldn’t let them see you naked like that,” she teased, tilting her head with a mischievous smile. “You’re too beautiful to be put on display like that. Wouldn’t you rather do a private striptease? Just for someone who truly appreciates you?”

Diego’s eyes widened slightly, but a slow smile curved his lips, showing a confidence he was trying to reclaim. “A private striptease? And who exactly should I do it for?”

“You could start with me,” Eleonora replied, her tone low and seductive. As she spoke, she raised a hand and boldly touched his chest, her fingers sliding slowly and possessively over his bare, sweaty skin, tracing the line of his sculpted pecs with firm pressure, her lacquered nails grazing lightly, leaving a faint red mark. He held his breath, and she noticed how his muscles tensed under her touch, his skin warm and slick beneath her fingertips. With a bolder move, she slid her hand downward, exploring his defined abs, palpating them with a firmness that left no room for doubt, then stopped just above his groin, where his hands were still pressed to cover himself. With a provocative gesture, Eleonora slipped her fingers between his, trying to nudge them aside slightly, her nails grazing the base of his shaved pubic area as she looked into his eyes. “If you know how to earn it, I’ll give you a reward,” she continued, her voice dropping to a warm whisper. “Five hundred euros for tonight. But you have to prove to me you’re worth it.”

Diego swallowed, but a spark of excitement flickered in his eyes. Her touch was electric: the pressure on his chest had quickened his pulse, the graze of her nails sent a shiver down his spine, and now, with her hands trying to move his, he felt an intense heat rising to his face and a surge of tension coursing through his body. Five hundred euros, he thought, his mind racing. That’s a lot of money. But there was resistance within him: I’m not sure I want to do this. Not like this. “Five hundred?” he asked, his voice hoarse, trying to buy time as his hands tightened to protect himself from her bold touch. “That’s a good amount, but… I don’t know if it’s enough for something private. I’ve never done it. Maybe… seven hundred?”

Eleonora laughed softly, a sound that made him shiver, and stepped closer, her body almost touching his. “Seven hundred?” she repeated, her tone amused but firm, as her left hand slid slowly down his side, her fingers closing over the firm curve of his backside, gripping the bare flesh tightly, her nails digging in just enough to make him flinch. Her right hand, meanwhile, stayed near his groin, pressing more insistently against his interlocked fingers, trying to pry them open with a cruel gentleness, her nails grazing the sensitive skin beneath his pubic area, a touch that made him stiffen. “You’re not in a position to negotiate, Diego,” she said, her tone hardening as she locked eyes with him. Her fingers on his backside moved, sliding toward the inner curve of his buttock, brushing the line between his cheeks with a light but unmistakable pressure, while those near his groin continued to tease, trying to slip past his barrier. He suppressed a moan, the heat rising to his face, his body trembling slightly under her invasive touch. “Five hundred is more than generous for a boy like you,” she continued, leaning in slightly, her warm breath grazing his neck, heavy with the scent of vanilla. “And besides… it’s not just about the money, is it? I intrigue you. I can see it in your eyes.”

Diego blushed, his heart pounding, her touch unsettling him. Her hands on his backside were firm, possessive, the contact burning his skin, while her fingers near his groin made him feel vulnerable, exposed, even with his hands covering himself. “Yeah, but…” he began, trying to maintain some control, “I’m not sure what you want from me. Five hundred is a lot, but… is it for a whole night? What will you ask of me?” His voice betrayed a mix of curiosity and fear, and he shifted slightly, trying to escape her insistent touch, but she followed, her hand on his backside sliding up his bare spine, her fingers tracing his backbone with a slowness that made him shudder, her nails grazing lightly, while her other hand remained, pressing against his interlocked fingers.

“A whole night,” she confirmed, her voice like silk, as her fingers paused between his shoulder blades, pressing enough to make him stiffen, a touch that seemed to brand him. “And I want all of you. Your body, your movements… your obedience.” Her right hand slid back to his chest, pinching a nipple with her lacquered nails, a quick, decisive gesture that made him catch his breath, a shiver running down his spine as the nipple hardened under her touch. “Don’t pretend you don’t want it,” she whispered, her eyes locked on his, her gaze piercing. “You’re curious. And those five hundred euros will change your life, won’t they? Think about it. What could you do with that money?”

Diego swallowed, torn. She’s right, he thought, his mind racing to the bills on the kitchen table, his mother’s tired face after a double shift. I don’t want to be an object, but that money… it could give her some breathing room. Her touch confused him: the fingers on his nipple sent a jolt of pleasure mixed with discomfort, and the pressure on his backside made him feel owned, a heat that both drew him in and scared him. “I don’t know,” he said, his voice lower, hesitant, as he tried to process the conflict within. “What if I don’t like what you want? I’m not a toy to be used like that.”

Eleonora smiled, a predatory smile, and her right hand slid down again, grazing his groin over his still-covering hands, but this time with more audacity, her fingers slipping between his, trying to force a breach with insistent pressure, her nails lightly scratching the sensitive skin at the base of his shaft, a touch that made him flinch and blush even more. “You’ll like it,” she said, her voice firm, almost a command, as her left hand slid back to his backside, gripping a buttock tightly, her fingers digging into the firm flesh as if claiming it. “Because I know what I want, and I know how to make you want it. Five hundred euros, Diego. And an experience you won’t forget. It’s not just about the money, you know. It’s about this.” She paused, letting her touch speak for her, her fingers pressing against his interlocked hands, trying to nudge them aside, the contact growing more intimate, as she looked at him with a confidence that disarmed him. “So, what do you say? Come to my place afterward?”

A few steps away, a girl with red hair and a short silver dress, returning from the bar with a drink in hand, paused for a moment, her eyes wide as she watched the scene. She saw Eleonora, her hands exploring Diego’s naked body without shame, and him, vulnerable but still, his hands covering himself as she touched him with a confidence that seemed almost unreal. The girl blushed, averting her gaze with an embarrassed smile, then quickly walked away, disappearing into the crowd, her glass trembling slightly in her hand.

Diego stared at her, his breath quickening, his body betraying the excitement he tried to suppress under her invasive touch. I can’t say no, he thought, the pressure of her fingers pushing him further, the heat of her hand on his backside pinning him there. I don’t want to give her everything, but that money… and her… it’s too much. “Alright,” he said finally, his voice hoarse, an admission that cost him effort, the shift from resistance to surrender gradual and tormented. “Five hundred. But… don’t make me regret it.”

“You won’t regret it,” she replied, withdrawing her hands with a satisfied smile, her fingers brushing his skin one last time as if sealing their pact. “I’ll be waiting outside in an hour and a half. Don’t make me wait.”

She turned and walked back to her friends, her step confident, leaving Diego standing there, his heart pounding, his mind in turmoil. What am I doing? he thought, watching her figure retreat, her touch still imprinted on his skin, the heat of her hands burning his backside and chest. Five hundred euros… but at what cost?

 

[daddycool]

Chapter 3 – The Invitation

After leaving Diego in the hallway, Eleonora returned to her friends with a smile she couldn’t hide. Claudia, Luca, and Matteo looked at her with a mix of curiosity and amusement, seated at the VIP table with half-empty glasses and neon lights dancing across their faces. They knew well of her passion for younger men, her dominant nature, and her “perversions,” as they jokingly called them. It was no secret among them: Eleonora was a mistress who loved to control, seduce, and shape her partners to her desires, and they supported her with irony and affection, accustomed to her tales of conquests.

“So, what did you get up to?” Claudia asked, raising an eyebrow as she sipped her colorful cocktail, an amused expression curling her lips. “That look means trouble… or pleasure. Or both, knowing you.”

Eleonora laughed, sitting beside them with a fluid motion, setting her champagne flute on the table. “Nothing I can’t handle,” she replied, her tone blending challenge and satisfaction. “I just invited our friend Diego to join me later. He’s… promising, let’s say.”

Luca burst out laughing, nudging Matteo, who was fiddling with a coaster. “Promising? Ele, you know you love projects to reshape. That boy has no idea what he’s getting into!”

“But he’ll find out soon enough,” Eleonora replied, with a mischievous smile that lit up her face. “He has a dream body, and that backside… God, it’s perfect. I love it when they’re like that, strong but malleable.” He needs money, she thought, recalling his words at the bar. And I need someone to guide. It’s a perfect balance.

Matteo raised his glass in an ironic toast, his perfectly styled hair reflecting the light. “To your collection, then. But be careful, he might be wilder than you think.”

“I hope so,” Eleonora said, licking her lips in an almost unconscious gesture. “The challenge is the best part. And besides, he needs money. I saw it in his eyes: he’s vulnerable, but also determined. He’s the type I can bend without breaking.” Not right away, at least, she added mentally, already imagining him under her control.

Claudia shook her head, amused, her brown curls falling across her face. “You’re impossible, Ele. But I admit he has a certain charm. I just hope he doesn’t disappoint you.”

“He won’t,” Eleonora replied with confidence, her eyes drifting to the stage, where Diego was climbing back onto the cube for his next set, his muscles flexing under the lights. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have chosen him. I only pick those with potential.” And he has it, she thought. I can feel it.

While Eleonora chatted with her friends, Diego began to dance, his body moving with that natural sensuality that had captured everyone’s attention. But in his mind, a whirlwind of thoughts overwhelmed him. What the hell am I doing? he wondered, as the spotlights illuminated him and the music pushed him to move, his hips swaying to the rhythm as if they had a life of their own. That woman, Eleonora… she’s magnetic, but also dangerous. She’s rich, powerful, and clearly knows what she wants. And me? I’m just a guy trying to make it to the end of the month. He felt sweat trickle down his back, his heart pounding not just from physical exertion but from anticipation of what awaited him.

There was a mix of excitement and fear knotting his stomach. The idea of spending the night with her intrigued him: her touch, her voice, the way she had looked at him as if he were already hers… it was exciting, almost irresistible. But doubts pricked at his mind. What if she goes too far? he thought, recalling how her fingers had lingered on his backside, possessive. What if she wants something I’m not ready to give? Yet, the need for money was a powerful motivator. The bills at home, the studies interrupted for lack of funds, supporting his mother who worked as a waitress to get by… he couldn’t afford to say no to five hundred euros, or maybe more, if things went well. My mom deserves better, he told himself, his hips continuing to move. And I have to give it to her, even if it means selling myself a bit.

But it’s also a challenge, he thought, as he raised his arms and turned, showing his profile to the cheering crowd. I like the idea of being desired by someone like her. It’s different from anything I’ve known. He recalled the girls he’d been with—peers, simple, without demands—and then Eleonora’s touch, so confident, so different. It’s not just sex, he told himself. It’s power. And I… I want to see where it takes me. The fear mingled with adrenaline, and as he danced, his body betrayed an excitement he couldn’t hide, even as he tried to maintain control, his smile tense on his lips.

Meanwhile, Eleonora continued talking with her friends, her tone full of anticipation. “You’ll see, it’ll be a memorable night,” she said, tapping her fingers on the table. “He has that mix of strength and vulnerability I love. I’ll shape him, guide him… and he’ll thank me.”

“You’re a force of nature,” Luca commented, laughing, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “But don’t go overboard, huh? We don’t want him running off terrified.”

“He won’t run,” Eleonora replied with confidence, her chin raised. “I’ll keep him on a leash, metaphorically speaking. And maybe not just metaphorically, if he behaves well.” He needs me, she thought, even if he doesn’t know it yet. And I need him to remind me who I am.

An hour and a half passed—the night stretched on, with the club pulsing into the late hours—and finally, Diego emerged from the dressing room area, now dressed in a tight black T-shirt and jeans that highlighted his chiseled physique. Eleonora quickly excused herself from her friends: “I have to go. We’ll talk tomorrow,” she said, rising with an elegant motion.

“Leaving through the main door or the back?” Luca teased, winking as he adjusted his jacket.

“Main, for now,” Eleonora replied with a smile, before heading toward the exit, her step resolute.

Outside, the cool night air caressed her skin, a pleasant contrast to the club’s heat. Diego was waiting near the entrance, hands in his pockets, an expression halfway between excitement and caution. When he saw her, he approached with a shy but intrigued smile, his hair still slightly tousled.

“You’re punctual,” Eleonora said, leading him to her car, a luxurious black BMW parked nearby under a streetlamp’s light. “I like that.”

“I wouldn’t dare keep a woman like you waiting,” he replied, climbing into the passenger seat with a slightly stiff movement, as if still nervous. The car’s interior smelled of leather and an expensive perfume, and Diego seemed almost intimidated by the refinement of it all, his hands resting uncertainly on his knees.

Eleonora started the engine, glancing at him sideways as she merged into Milan’s nighttime traffic, the city lights streaming past the windows. “So, Diego,” she began, her voice low and seductive, “tell me more about yourself. You already know something about me, but I want to know you better. For example, do you know how old I am?”

He hesitated, then answered cautiously, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, I’d say… around fifty, maybe? I’m not great at guessing.”

“Fifty-four,” she lied with a smile, though she was actually sixty-one, a habit she’d adopted for fun, to see how others reacted. “But it doesn’t matter. The question is: have you ever been with women older than you? Women as old as me, I mean.”

Diego blushed slightly but answered honestly, his eyes fixed on the dashboard. “Yeah, once. She was forty-five, I think. It was… different. But not as old as you. You’re… unique, really.”

Eleonora laughed softly, shifting gears with a decisive gesture, her lacquered nails glinting under the streetlights. “Unique, huh? I like that. And tell me, have you ever done things like what I proposed tonight? Private things, I mean. With men or women?”

He shook his head, his tone a bit nervous but curious, as if exploring unknown territory. “No, never. I usually just dance. Sometimes people offer me drinks or ask me to pose for photos, but nothing more. And no, I don’t accept payment for private things, not from men or women. This is the first time.”

“Interesting,” Eleonora said, her gaze fixed on the road but with a smile that betrayed her interest. “And how do you feel about tonight? Does the idea of being commanded excite you? Of letting yourself be guided by someone who knows exactly what they want?”

Diego swallowed, heat rising to his face, his hands tightening slightly on his jeans. “A little, yeah,” he admitted, his voice low. “It’s… new. But also intriguing. And, well, I need the money. That’s no secret.”

“I know,” she replied, her voice now almost a whisper, heavy with promises. “And I promise you, if you’re good, it’ll be worth it. But tell me, that backside you showed off tonight… do you only use it for dancing, or do you know how to put it to work in other ways?”

He laughed nervously, running a hand through his hair, the sound filling the car. “I think you already have some ideas about that,” he said, trying to keep his tone light, though his heart was pounding.

“More than a few,” Eleonora replied, casting him a glance full of promises, her eyes gleaming in the dim light. “And tonight, you’ll find out how much I love to command. But don’t worry, you’ll enjoy it too… if you’re good.”

The rest of the drive passed in a mix of tension and anticipation. Eleonora continued to ask questions, some personal, others provocative, pushing Diego to reveal more than he intended. He responded, increasingly intrigued by her confidence, the way she seemed to know exactly what she wanted and how to get it, even as a part of him wondered where this would lead.

When they arrived at the elegant building where Eleonora lived, she parked with a fluid motion and turned to him, the smile of a predator who left no escape. “We’re here,” she said, her voice firm. “Get ready, Diego. The night has just begun.”

He nodded, his heart pounding, knowing he was about to enter a world he had never known before. I don’t know what to expect, he thought, stepping out of the car, but I can’t turn back now.

 

[daddycool]

Dont you like the beginning of the story ?

 

[rabidrabbit88]

Dont you like the beginning of the story ?

Very much so, would love to read the rest.

 

[richard800]

Chapter 1 – The Encounter

It was a late spring evening in Milan, and the warm air carried the scent of linden flowers and the promise of a night without boundaries. Eleonora, at 61, was a magnetic presence: blonde, with hair that fell in soft golden waves, a voluptuous bosom that elegantly filled her cream-colored silk dress, form-fitting yet sophisticated, accentuating her robust and confident figure. A successful entrepreneur at the helm of a real estate investment company that had secured her a life of luxury, Eleonora had built her existence with determination. Her divorce years earlier had been a turning point: her husband, a weak man unable to handle her need for control, had left her free to pursue what she truly desired. Single by choice, she found pleasure in beautiful things: fine wine, exotic travels, and, above all, the company of handsome younger men, those whose energy and charm reminded her how alive she was, how much she could still dominate.

That evening, she had decided to go out with her best friend, Claudia, a lively woman always ready with a quip, and a gay couple, Luca and Matteo, whom she had known for years and considered like brothers. “Let’s go somewhere special,” Luca had said with a mischievous smile as they sipped aperitifs in a chic bar in Brera, the dim lights reflecting off crystal glasses. “A friendly club where you can breathe freedom and fun. You’ll love it, Ele, I promise.”

Eleonora had agreed enthusiastically, curious to let herself go after a week of meetings, million-dollar contracts, and strategic decisions that had tested even her iron discipline. The club, located in a renovated old warehouse on the city’s outskirts, was an explosion of neon lights, pulsing dance music like a living heart, and an atmosphere charged with energy. Drinks flowed, laughter was loud, and she felt invigorated, her body swaying to the music as she chatted with Claudia at the bar, a flute of champagne in her hand. Luca and Matteo, always impeccable and witty, dragged her onto the dance floor now and then, and for a while, she forgot everything: work, responsibilities, the passage of time. I need this, she thought, letting the music course through her veins. A moment for myself, to feel alive.

That’s when she saw him. On a small stage in the center of the room, illuminated by red and blue lights dancing across his skin, was Diego. Twenty-four years old, 190 centimeters tall, with a muscular, chiseled physique that seemed straight out of a classical sculpture, broad shoulders, and defined abs visible under the light. He wore only a pair of thin, almost transparent briefs that clung perfectly to his slim hips. His dark hair, slightly damp with sweat, fell over his deep, dark eyes, inherited from his South American mother, giving him a mysterious and wild air. He danced hypnotically, every movement charged with sensuality, his hips swaying with natural grace, his arms raised as if offering something to the crowd. He was a gogoboy, and he drew every eye in the room.

A shiver ran down Eleonora’s spine. She set her champagne glass on the bar and turned to Luca, who was laughing with Matteo while mimicking an exaggerated dance move. “Who’s that?” she asked, trying to keep her tone casual, though her heart beat a little faster. There’s something about him, she thought. It’s not just his body. It’s that energy, that vulnerability hidden beneath his strength.

Luca followed her gaze and smiled, exchanging a knowing glance with Matteo. “Ah, that’s Diego. Quite a specimen, isn’t he? He drives everyone crazy here. But don’t worry, Ele, he’s straight. We’ve invited him a couple of times, but he’s never shown interest in us that way. He’s more into… girls, let’s say. Or rather, women like you.”

Eleonora couldn’t hide a satisfied smile. She was pleased to hear it. Knowing he was straight sparked a thrill of excitement, the idea that Diego was available to women like her. She didn’t care about the age difference or conventions: there was something about him, a blend of youth, physical strength, and that exotic charm that made her heart race. He’s a trophy, she thought, but not just any trophy. One I can shape. She decided to act.

She waited for the music to change and for Diego to step down from the stage for a break. She saw him heading toward the bar, sweat glistening on his tanned skin, his muscles flexing with every step. Eleonora smoothed her dress, adjusted a strand of hair, and approached with the grace of someone who knows they hold power but also craves the thrill of the game.

“Hi,” she said, leaning against the bar beside him. Her voice was warm, confident, with an accent that betrayed years of travel and success. “You’re incredible up there. How do you move like that? It’s like you were born for it.”

Diego turned, surprised but not uncomfortable. His dark eyes sized her up for a moment, then a smile lit up his face, revealing perfect white teeth. “Thanks,” he replied, his voice deep yet youthful, with an accent that blended Italian with a faint South American touch. “It’s just practice, but I enjoy it. And you? You don’t seem like the type to get lost in places like this.”

Eleonora laughed, a rich, enveloping sound that drew the attention of those nearby. “Oh, I get lost wherever I want, whenever I want,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “I’m Eleonora. And you, besides being a spectacular dancer, who are you?”

“Diego,” he replied, extending his hand. His fingers were warm and strong, and when they touched, Eleonora felt a spark, an energy she hadn’t felt in a long time. “Nice to meet you, Eleonora. I’ve never seen you here before.”

“It’s my first time,” she admitted, sipping her champagne with an elegant gesture. “But I think I’ll come back if you’re here to make the evening interesting.”

Diego laughed, a low, genuine sound that quickened her pulse. “Well, if that’s the case, maybe I can offer you a drink. What do you take?”

“Champagne, always,” Eleonora replied, locking eyes with him. “But only if you tell me something about yourself. Where are you from? That smile… it’s not just Italian.”

He smiled again, this time with a hint of mystery. “My mother’s Colombian. My father’s Milanese. A mix, I guess. And you? You seem like someone who’s seen the world.”

“Oh, I have,” she said, leaning in slightly. “And I keep looking for new pieces of it. Who knows, maybe you’re one of them.”

The conversation continued, punctuated by laughter and glances that lingered longer than necessary. Around them, the music pulsed, the lights flashed, but for Eleonora and Diego, the world had narrowed to that small space at the bar, where desire was beginning to take shape. I want him, she thought, and I’ll have him. But on my terms.