Trinity 1-844-332-2639 ext 285

He calls the shots and I love it. It starts with a look. Not the kind of look that asks. The kind that commands. The kind that tells you what you’re going to do—and you already know you’re going to do it. He was older. Powerful. Hands always in his pockets, voice low, calm… but his eyes? They owned me before he ever touched me.

“I see the way you look at me,” he said one day, closing the door behind us. “You want to be told what to do, don’t you?” I didn’t answer. I just dropped my eyes and nodded. “Strip. Knees. Now.” And I obeyed. God, I obeyed.

I knelt on the floor—bare, trembling, wet. He circled me like a predator with all the time in the world. He touched me only when he wanted to, how he wanted to. One hand in my hair, the other between my thighs. Every whimper was permission for him to take more.

“You’re not allowed to cum until I say so,” he warned. “Understand?” “Yes, Sir.”
That’s when the game really began. He bent me over his desk, tied my wrists behind my

He Calls the Shots—And I Love It

back, and took his time. His rhythm. His rules. He’d spank me hard enough to make me cry, then kiss the sting away until I melted all over again.

I begged. He denied me. Over and over. “Use your words.” “Please, Sir. Please let me cum.” His fingers gripped my throat. Not tight—just enough. “Not yet.” The control made me feral. My body was on fire, aching, starving for release.

And when he finally whispered, “Now,” I came so hard I screamed into his tie, hips thrashing, body shaking like a girl completely undone.

Afterward, he untied me, cradled my face in his hands, and kissed my forehead. “You did so well for me.” And I felt proud. Owned. Safe in a way I never knew I needed. He doesn’t love me. He controls me. And it turns me into his perfect little toy every single time.

 

Trinity 1-844-332-2639 ext 285

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