I work all the time. As far as anyone knows, I’m a respected member of the community—waving to you and your loved ones, the man standing behind you in the store patiently waiting to check out, etc.. By all appearances, my toned figure and attire suggest I take myself and those I engage with seriously. Those I supervise understand my expectations and transform them into my measure of success as instructed. My mannerisms are socially acceptable: eye contact, non-threatening yet confidant demeanor, clear and pronounced voice when I speak. At the end of the day, I say my goodbyes and go home for the day, continuing the work and chores left undone for tomorrow.

Walking inside my home and closing the door behind me… locking it. I politely remove my clothing, folding them and setting them aside. Reaching on the coat rack next to the door, I grab the necklace I’m expected to wear and secure it around my neck. Naked and chained, I approach my bedroom door, knocking for permission to enter. Upon hearing confirmation, I open the door, viewing my perfect goddess, so lucky to be in her presence. I kneel on all fours with my goddess approaching me, reaching from under me to slowly milk my constantly edged cock. “You’ll hold it for me, won’t you?” That’s what I hear as my brain devolves and leaks out of my tip. My mind breaking and being reshaped how she desires, understanding that this is all it’s ever been for.