On My Command

She waits for me exactly as thought—

Naked, on her knees, back straight, 

hands behind her, eyes lowered.

I shut the door behind me and let silence stretch.
She doesn’t dare look up. Good girl.

“You were late texting me?”

I walk slowly around her, 

the click of my boots on the floor loud in the quiet room.

Her breath hitches—she knows what that tone means.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” she whispers.
I grip her chin, lifting her face to mine.

“You will be.”

I take my time. I strip in front of her, 

but not for her—this is mine, this moment.

She looks up at me through lashes heavy with submission, 

need swirling in her eyes.

I grab a fistful of her hair and drag her forward. 

She stumbles but doesn’t resist.

She knows better.

“You want to be used?”
“Yes, Sir.”

I push her down.

My cock hits her lips, and she parts them like a prayer.
Her tongue works in practiced devotion, messy, eager.
Tears well in her eyes as I fuck her throat mercilessly—
no words now, just rhythm and dominance and control.

I use her mouth like a toy, then pull out with a growl.
“Get on the bed. Face down. Ass up.”

She obeys instantly—no hesitation, just that beautiful obedience.
Her body on display, vulnerable and waiting.
I grip her thighs and spread her wider.

My hand cracks against her ass—once, then again.
She gasps. Her skin blooms red beneath my palm.

“Count.”

“One... thank you, Sir.”
“Two... thank you, Sir.”

I don’t stop until her body is trembling, her thighs slick.
I slap her pussy once—hard. She cries out, but pushes back into me.
Perfect.

I grab her hips and slide into her in one brutal thrust.
She cries into the mattress.

She is soaked and tight, clenched around me like she was made for this.

I pound into her, hips slamming against her with each stroke.

The bed rocks. The room fills with the sounds of skin, moans, and power.
She claws at the sheets—
but she doesn’t run. She takes every inch.

“You’re mine,” I growl, gripping her throat from behind.
“Yes, Sir—yours, always.”

I thrust harder. Faster. I want her wrecked.
I want her broken open for me and no one else.

I flip her onto her back, grab her ankles, and fold her in half.
I fuck her deep, rough—her cries growing louder, her nails raking my shoulders.
“Sir—please—I’m going to—”

“Cum for me.”

She shatters beneath me.
Back arching, legs shaking, voice breaking.
I don’t stop. I fuck her through it, chasing my own release—
and when it hits me, I empty into her with a grunt, burying myself as deep as I can.

Silence follows. Only breath and heartbeat remain.

She lies beneath me, dazed and glowing.
Her body marked. Her mouth parted.

I lean down, kiss her temple, and whisper,

“Good Girl.”