The lights are low. The air smells like him—dark cologne and that sharp, intoxicating note of leather and pine. You step inside, your heels clicking softly against the hardwood floor, then stop dead in your tracks.
His voice cuts through the silence like silk-wrapped steel.
"Close the door."
You obey. The soft click echoes behind you, locking the two of you in. Heat flushes over your skin even before you see him. He's sitting back in the armchair, legs spread wide, shirt sleeves rolled up, his forearms resting on his thighs. Watching you.
"I missed that look in your eyes."
You swallow. Hard. His presence dominates the space effortlessly—he doesn't even have to move. The quiet intensity in his stare makes your knees weaken.
"Kneel, BabyGirl."
Your body responds before your brain can catch up, sinking to the floor like muscle memory. You place your hands behind your back, just like he taught you. Just like he likes.
"There she is," he murmurs,
voice dropping lower as he rises from the chair. Each step he takes toward you echoes with purpose, slow and sure, until his shoes are inches from your knees.
"I leave for a few weeks, and you still remember your place. Good girl."
Your breath catches.
He bends slightly, gloved fingers brushing a lock of hair behind your ear before gripping your jaw firmly, lifting your face to meet his gaze.
"Did you miss me?"
"Use your words."
"Yes, Sir..." your reply is breathless
"That's what I thought."
His thumb strokes your bottom lip, teasing it open. You feel yourself tremble with anticipation. You're already wet—and he hasn't even kissed you yet.
"Clothes off. Keep your collar on. Then crawl to the bed."
His voice is velvet-drenched command. And you... you were made to obey.
Your knees sink into the plush rug as you crawl—slow, deliberate,
feeling the heat of his gaze
burn across your back like a brand.
Every movement is intentional. You reach the edge of the bed and pause.
"Up." The word is sharp, commanding,
but not rushed.
He likes watching you obey.
You rise onto the mattress,
positioning yourself on all fours until he says otherwise.
The air is thick with anticipation,
heavy with the power shift that only he controls.
He doesn't speak for a moment.
Just watches.
You feel his eyes trace every curve,
every part of you bared just for him.
And then, he moves.
You hear the soft leather of his gloves
as he flexes his fingers.
Hear the slow, methodical steps
as he circles the bed like a predator
in control of his territory.
"Look at you," he murmurs. "Dripping, trembling, waiting."
You inhale sharply. He's behind you now. The bed dips slightly under his weight.
"You're so good for me, BabyGirl,"
he says, fingertips dragging lightly down your spine.
"So desperate to please...
and you will."
A sharp slap lands across your thigh.
Not painful—just enough to make your breath catch and your core clench.
Another lands, then a gentle kiss to the same spot, soothing.
" Count." he demands
You do. ."One, Sir..."Voice trembling
"Good girl." his praise is soft
He builds it slowly.
Warm hands, firm grip,
disciplined strikes—then the hush of praise between each one.
You feel him behind you,
hovering,
radiating heat and control.
"You've been waiting for this, haven't you?"
"Waiting for your Sir to remind you who you belong to?"
"Yes, Sir," you whisper, nearly broken with need.
He leans in close. His lips brush your ear.
"And you'll take everything I give you... won't you, sweetheart?"
You nod.
"Words." he growls
"Yes, Sir. I'll take everything.
I want everything." you moan
"That's my girl." he whispers