He catches my hair before I even get to the bed, laughing like he already owns me…which he does. I drop to my knees without hesitation, because I know exactly what keeps me in his favor. He looks down, amused, and murmurs, “You’re my Sexy Babe, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I gasp. “All yours.”
He grins and slides a hand over my cheek. “You’d do anything to stay taken care of, wouldn’t you?”
“Anything,” I whisper, leaning closer, eager and needy.
That’s what he loves. He loves knowing I have no pride here, that I exist for him, for his amusement, for his control. I open my mouth and let him guide me exactly where he wants me, struggling just enough to show how desperate I am. He laughs when my eyes water and keeps me right there anyway.
“Look at you,” he says, shaking his head. “Pathetic. And you love it.”
I do. Because every second like this keeps me spoiled. Every second reminds him he owns me. I stay still when he smacks my cheek lightly, leaning back in instead of pulling away.
When he’s done, he keeps me right in front of him, laughing while I stay kneeling, helpless and needy. “Sit there,” he says, amused. “Don’t move.”
I stay exactly where he tells me, letting him look, letting him enjoy how far I’ll go just to stay his. Marked. Used. Humiliated. And grateful.
I’ve done my job.
He takes care of my life, my comfort, my indulgences.
I take everything he gives me and crave more.
As long as I stay like this…helpless, greedy, obedient… I don’t lose a thing.
Mila
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