The door clicked shut behind me, a sound so final in the quiet of the room. I spun around, my heart pounding, to find him lounging against the wall, a smirk playing on his lips. His eyes, dark and mischievous, raked over me, making my skin prickle with a mix of fear and anticipation.

"You're late," he drawled, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine.

I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry. "I—I got held up."

He pushed off the wall, his movements languid, predatory. "I don't like tardiness, pet."

The nickname, so casual, so degrading, should have offended me. Instead, it ignited a spark deep within, a thrill of submission that I couldn't deny. He closed the gap between us, his hand reaching out to cup my chin, tilting my head back.

"You look nervous," he observed, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip. "Are you?"

I couldn't speak, couldn't form words with his gaze holding me captive. The room felt smaller, the air thicker, as he leaned closer, his breath warm against my cheek.

"Relax," he murmured, his voice a hypnotic whisper. "You're safe with me."

His words, a lie wrapped in seduction, should have been a warning. But my body betrayed me, relaxing incrementally under his touch. He smiled, a wolfish grin that told me he knew exactly the effect he had on me.

"Good girl," he praised, his hand sliding down to my neck, his fingers gentle yet firm. "Now, let's get you out of those clothes."

His directive snapped me out of my daze, and I blinked up at him, my voice a shaky whisper. "What?"

He chuckled, the sound dark and indulgent. "You heard me. Strip."

My hands trembled as I reached for the buttons of my shirt, my fingers clumsy with nerves. He watched, his eyes gleaming with amusement and something else—something hotter, more primal.

"Slowly," he instructed, his voice a velvet command. "I want to enjoy the view."

I swallowed hard, my cheeks burning as I obeyed, each movement deliberate, each article of clothing removed with agonizing slowness. His gaze was a tangible thing, burning over my skin, branding me as his.

When I stood before him, bare and exposed, he tsked softly. "Such a pretty little thing. So eager to please."

His words should have stung, but they only fueled the fire within me, the desire to surrender, to lose myself in his control. He stepped closer, his hand trailing down my arm, sending sparks of electricity along my skin.

"On your knees," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I hesitated, just for a moment, before sinking to the floor, my eyes locked on his. He reached behind him, his movements smooth and practiced, and when he turned back, he held a strap-on, black and menacing. My breath caught, my body trembling with a mix of fear and excitement.

"You're going to love this," he promised, his voice a husky caress. "I'll make sure of it."

He knelt before me, his eyes never leaving mine, as he fastened the harness around his hips. The sight of it, so intimate, so dominating, should have terrified me. Instead, it fueled my arousal, a deep, primal need to submit, to be taken by him.

"Open your mouth," he commanded, his hand reaching out to stroke my cheek. "Show me how eager you are to please."

I obeyed, my lips parting instinctively, my eyes closing as his fingers brushed against my tongue. The taste of him, the feel of his hand in my mouth, sent a rush of heat through me, a surge of submission that I couldn't resist.

"That's it," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "So good for me."

His praise, so filthy, so degrading, should have been humiliating. But it wasn't. It was a catalyst, pushing me deeper into the abyss of submission, of surrender. He withdrew his hand, his eyes dark with lust, as he positioned himself above me, the strap-on pressing against my lips.

"Now, let's see how well you can take it," he whispered, his voice a seductive promise.

I braced myself, my body trembling with anticipation, as he pushed forward, the rubber phallus sliding into my mouth, filling me, dominating me. His hands gripped my head, his movements slow, deliberate, as he began to thrust, each movement a claim, a possession.

"Good girl," he praised, his voice a ragged breath. "So eager, so willing."

His words, his actions, should have been too much. But they weren't. They were exactly what I needed, what I craved, in that moment. I surrendered to him, to the sensation of being filled, of being controlled, my body responding with a fervor that surprised even me.

And as he continued to thrust, each movement more forceful, more demanding, I knew there was no turning back. I was his, completely and utterly, in that moment. And I was eager to see where his strap-on seduction would take me next.

As he continued his relentless pace, I felt the world around me dissolve into a haze of pleasure and submission. His grip on my head tightened, his thrusts becoming more urgent, each one driving deeper into my throat. I gagged slightly, the sound muffled by the thick rubber, but he didn't relent. Instead, he groaned, low and primal, his satisfaction evident.

"You're doing so well, pet," he praised, his voice thick with arousal. "I knew you could take it."

His words fueled my desire, pushing me further into the abyss of submission. I wanted to please him, to show him just how far I was willing to go. My hands gripped the floor, my body moving instinctively with his thrusts, my throat accommodating his every demand.

He withdrew slightly, giving me a moment to catch my breath, before plunging back in, his movements savage now, almost punishing. I moaned around the phallus, the sound vibrating against the rubber, a testament to my surrender.

"Such a good girl," he murmured, his hand reaching down to stroke my hair. "So eager to please."

His touch was gentle, a stark contrast to his aggressive actions, and it sent a shiver of pleasure through me. I arched my back, offering myself more fully to him, my body a canvas for his desires.

He pulled me to my feet, his hands roaming over my naked body, his touch electrifying. "Turn around," he commanded, his voice a rough whisper. "I want to see you bend for me."

I obeyed, my body trembling with anticipation as I leaned forward, my hands flat against the wall. He positioned himself behind me, the strap-on pressing against my entrance, a reminder of his dominance.

"Prepare yourself," he ordered, his hand reaching around to stroke my clit, his touch firm, insistent. I gasped, my body responding instantly, my wetness increasing with each passing second.

He thrust inside me, the force of his entry almost overwhelming. I cried out, the sound mingling with his groan of satisfaction. He held me tightly, his hands gripping my hips, his body moving in a rhythm that was both brutal and beautiful.

"You feel so good," he breathed, his voice ragged. "So tight, so wet."

His words were a catalyst, pushing me deeper into the abyss of pleasure. I surrendered to him, my body moving with his, my mind lost in the sensation of being filled, of being possessed.

He reached around, his hand returning to my clit, his fingers working in tandem with his thrusts, each movement designed to send me spiraling into ecstasy. I moaned, the sound echoing off the walls, a testament to my surrender.

"Come for me," he commanded, his voice a harsh whisper. "Show me how much you want this."

His words were my undoing. I cried out, my body clenching around him as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me. He continued to thrust, his movements relentless, driving me deeper into the abyss of submission.

As my orgasm subsided, he withdrew, his hands still holding me firmly. "You did so well," he praised, his voice gentle now, his touch tender. "Such a good girl."

I leaned back against him, my body still trembling with aftershocks of pleasure. He held me close, his breath warm against my neck, his satisfaction palpable.

"Now," he murmured, his voice a seductive promise. "Let's see what else you're capable of."