Domination

Fucking has never come naturally to me — it requires an aggression I’ve long kept at bay. Lately, though, something’s shifting.

I press the bar again. And again. And again.

Two words that make your pussy tingle and my cock hard, even if they scare me a little.

You will not forget it.

I want your orgasms. All of them.

Room 909. A hotel room, a command, a wait that I can’t sustain, and a first time that leaves marks.

I don’t want to bend you to my will. I want your will to curl into mine like shrink-wrap — no distance, no submission, just utter harmony. Maybe that’s not dominance. Maybe it’s just infantile.

I like to watch you touch yourself.

The many meanings of “please.”

Your mouth has one purpose. It’s not speaking.