Dom

[Th****]

She stood in the middle of the room, chin tilted up just enough to test me, that glint in her eyes telling me she wanted to see how far she could push. The rope in my hands whispered against itself as I coiled it, slow and deliberate, letting the sound fill the charged air. “Feet apart,” I said. No need to raise my voice — the command carried its own weight. She obeyed, but with a faint smirk that was practically an invitation for correction. I didn’t mind; brats are my favorite. They give me something worth taming.

I stepped in close, the scent of her already shifting under the heat of my presence, and began the first wrap around her wrists. Precision mattered — every knot a message, every pull a reminder of who held control here. My fingers traced down her arms, not gentle, but firm, teaching her that my touch wasn’t just for pleasure, but for shaping her into something sharper, more obedient. “You’ll hold still,” I murmured, “or I’ll make you wish you had.” The tremor that ran through her told me she heard the promise in my voice.

She tested me anyway. A shift of her hips, a little tug against the rope, like a kitten batting at a lion’s paw. I smiled — the kind of smile that made her swallow hard — and pressed her against the wall. My hand gripped her jaw, tilting her head so her eyes met mine. “Lesson one,” I said, “is respect. You’ve earned yourself a correction.” The smack of my palm on her thigh echoed in the quiet room, the sting blooming across her skin before she even had time to gasp.

When I stepped back, I ran the rope lower, binding her thighs just enough to limit her movement but not her awareness. Every pass was intentional, pulling her into a headspace where the world narrowed to my voice, my hands, my control. She started breathing faster, the brat in her softening into something more malleable, more eager to please. That’s the moment I lived for — the shift from resistance to surrender. I hooked a finger under the rope at her chest, tugging her forward. “Good girl,” I said, and it was a reward she’d work for again and again.

By the time I was done, she was a perfect display — restrained, compliant, and hungry for the next command. I circled her like a craftsman admiring his work, every line of rope a signature, every mark a testament to her obedience. My voice dropped to a low growl. “Now you’re ready for training.” She shivered, not from ***, but from anticipation. And I smiled, because the night was only just beginning, and she was mine to shape, discipline, and claim.

[fl****]

I need this in my life