He came round to my flat again, this time surveying what I was wearing; there was a financial side of things that resulted in him buying me underwear to wear when dominating. When he ordered it, he’d send me screen grabs of the order confirmation and would follow with a picture of the erection that buying the items gave him. The evening was an exercise in me uncomfortably finding arbitrary things for him to do around the house. "Um. Would you consider shampooing my carpets?" I asked, grasping for something I didn’t want to do myself. "Of course, mistress" he replied. I felt uneasy, and he could tell. Something in him seemed to switch, and that night he asked me to command him to do more and more. I faltered, and out of nowhere he announced that it was time for him to pleasure me. I thought it odd, but went along with it. We began to have sex and, halfway through, he grew more forceful. I asked him to stop, and he slammed out of my flat. The control that I hadn’t asked for had suddenly gone, taken back at the point I was most vulnerable.