I originally posted this story in r/BDSMerotica and wanted to share it here as well to see how it resonates with this community! I hope you enjoy it, and I’d love to hear your thoughts!

***

A forgotten towel sparks a fiery battle of wills, and Missy quickly learns the cost of defiance.

“Missy…”

I didn’t pause – hell, I didn’t even blink at Mister’s tone. My eyes met his glare as I wordlessly shoved a leg into my work pants. I raised a brow questioningly at him knowing full well the beast I was poking. A little hop and I yanked my work slacks up, quickly stuffing in the loose ends of my blouse before cinching the button. It was six-goddamn-thirty in the morning, and I was already running late to work. I didn’t have time for this.

His green eyes glowered at me as he stood in the bathroom doorway. Steam curled off his body like some devil rising from the bowels of the underworld. Even angry, he was a sight to behold. Long powerful legs had him towering over me. His black hair, cut in a classic military style, was wet and slicked back. His morning scruff – a delicious salt and pepper shadow over a severe jawline – glistened from his morning shower. And his chest – god, I loved his chest. Broad and sturdy and dusted with just the perfect amount of chest hair. I could lay in the cushions of those beautiful pecks forever. With only a towel wrapped around a tapered waist, I got my morning dose of this gorgeous man plus some.

Something damp landed on top of my head. I squealed and ripped it off before it could ruin my top and hair. A wet towel fell to the carpet with a thunk.

“What the heck?” I cried out.

Mister crossed his arms, corded muscles bulging, “How many times have I asked you to hang your wet towels to dry after you shower? I almost snapped my neck slipping on this.”

“Maybe that was my plan all along,” I muttered darkly, kicking the mop of fabric aside.

“Come again?” Mister stalked over, closing in on me. I could feel the heat pour off his body, hear his breath. Deep, heavy, and restrained. I forced myself to calmly inspect my appearance in the vanity mirror.

“Fine, fine, fine, I’ll do it next time. Now move, I have to go to work now – Justin’s gonna kill me if I’m late for this meeting.”

A smirk ticked at the corner of Mister’s mouth. “You always say that. How do I know you mean it this time?”

“You know what they say… seventeenth’s time the charm?” I quipped back, tossing my hair casually, “Now I really need to bust a move, Mister. This girl’s gotta goooooo.”

He took a step back but smirk deepened, and his eyes darkened just a shade too much. “We’ll see about that.”

Shit.

Heat prickled my cheeks as I pushed past him, snatching my work laptop and bag. He followed me as I rushed out of the bedroom into the kitchen, grabbing a thermos of glorious hot coffee Mister made earlier for me. Keys jangled as I stuffed my feet into little black pumps and clacked out the door. 

I paused, turning to face him once more before closing the door. I drank in the man standing barefoot on our cold tiled kitchen floor. Arms were still firmly crossed and his face stern. But, in those emerald eyes, a wicked glimmer flashed, and I knew he was fighting back a grin.

I stomped my foot and stuck out my tongue.

“Do your worst, Mister! See if I care!”

And there it was – a cruel smile broke across his face.

“Count on it, brat.”

My heart skipped and I turned away before he could see the flush of my cheeks. Knowing full well I had both won and lost at the same time, I pulled the door closed with a slam.

***

Work was a slog. Several soul-shattering meetings, a report that was urgent up until the moment it wasn’t anymore, and many, many mind-numbing phone calls later, I pulled into the garage. The car shuddered off with a quick turn of the key. A groan bubbled up, and I rested my head against the steering wheel. My head pounded and my stomach growled.

A peek at my phone informed me I had sustained life on a single thermos of coffee from morning to a little after six. My will to go on was fading fast.

Thankfully, Mister wasn’t home yet. I didn’t have to face his nagging just yet. Dragging my feet out of the car, I stumbled into the house and kicked off my tiny torture devices called heels. The house was clean, and pleasant smelling. Relief washed over me as I immediately reached behind and unlatched my bra. Holy shit, that was the feeling of true freedom. God Bless America.

I dumped my bag on the floor and padded over to the fridge. On the stainless-steel door, I spied a Post-It note with a familiar scrawl.

There’s a small snack in the fridge. Eat it then take a shower – you’ll feel much better. I promise. I know you didn’t take care of yourself at work today. You never do.

I’ll be back around 7. I’ll make dinner.  We will discuss your behavior this morning afterwards.

I wriggled at the warning written between the lines. In this case, a “discussion” rarely meant talking and rarely left me walking away unscathed.

Still, I sniffed at his presumption. How dare he tell me what to do! I crumpled the note and stormed into the bedroom.

Heat shot through my core as I froze mid-step. On the bed, laid out in plain sight, was a thick wooden paddle and a mean-looking rattan cane. Two pillows piled up neatly in the middle of the bed sent an unmistakeable message: I would be bent over them soon.

“Anal-retentive prick,” I muttered, my insides quaking at the sight. I wanted to remove them from the bed, hide them away and pretend I never saw them. But I knew better.

All this over a damn towel? God, he was the most infuriating control freak alive!

Frustration coursed through me as I ripped off my clothes, leaving them in a messy heap on the floor. Leaving them there for Mister to hopefully trip over later tonight.

Screw him!

I cranked the shower onto full blast, relishing in the wet inferno. As I scrubbed away the grime of the day, melting away the tension in my shoulders, my mind raced. What was Mister’s plan with the paddle AND the cane?

He’s disciplined me before - taking me over his knee when I got too mouthy. Sometimes with his hand, sometimes with the wooden spoon from the kitchen drawer, and a few times with his belt. But never like this. Never as a true punishment.

My nipples pebbled despite the anxiety twisting in my gut. I reached between my legs and felt how hot the thought of Mister really putting me in my place was making me. I moaned, pulling my hand away. I wasn’t going to give Mister the satisfaction of me getting off on this. Even if he would never actually know.

Finishing up, I turned off the water and toweled off. I hung the wet cloth up. Then I stared at it. Stupid, fluffy thing. I picked it up with two fingers and dropped it on the floor. If I’m screwed anyway, I might as well go full steam ahead.

I dragged on an oversized T-shirt and stepped into a clean cotton panty before marching out of the bedroom, ignoring the scary instruments on display. In the kitchen, I pulled open the fridge door. Inside, there was a tall pitcher of water. A mint sprig and several cucumbers slices floated in it. Beside it was a small bowl of washed grapes and a tiny container of yogurt. A note was tented over the cellophane-covered food.

Eat and drink this before I get home.

I swear if this bossy know-it-all had a Yelp page, I’d be leaving a strongly worded review.

Still, I grab the food and drink, pouring the cool, flavored water into a glass. I belted two cups and sighed as the fog in my brain finally cleared.

Sitting at the kitchen table, I snacked, trying to keep my mind off of whatever was going to happen after dinner. I scrolled through my phone, distracting myself with videos and social media posts.

Fifteen minutes after 7pm, the tell-tale groan of the garage door announced Mister’s arrival. My stomach flipped. The sound of the car door swinging open, then slamming shut, sent my heart into a frenzy.

The door opened but I refused to give Mister the gratification of noticing his presence, pretending to be engrossed in some news article.

His shoes clattered on the floor one at a time as he pulled them off, followed by a deep sigh. I imagined he was loosening his tie by now, like he always did when he got home. Heart in my throat, blood rushed in my ears as his footfalls approached. I knew he was just inches from my back. And he knew that I knew and that made me flush deeply. I tried not to squirm.

Warm breath tickled my scalp as Mister leaned in, bracing his arms on either side of me, his body a solid wall behind my chair. I sucked in a breath.

“How was your day, Missy-Moo-Moo? I see you enjoyed the treats I left for you.”

He was right by my ear, his words sticky sweet and dangerous. A shiver ran down my spine.

I finally caved and turned my head to meet his eyes. I could tell right away that he had just as trying a day as I did. There were shadows under his beautiful clover eyes. I hated to see him worn down even when he’s a domineering asshole.

So, I smiled, arching up to kiss him on the cheek, “Oh you know, another day, another dollar. How was yours?”

“Trying as always… upper management is really coming down on us to wrap up deliverables for the quarter. I’ll have to work late tomorrow.”

Scratchy whiskers nuzzled my cheek as Mister pulled me into a tight hug. I could feel him inhaling the scent of my shampoo. Guilt edged into my chest – maybe I shouldn’t be such a child all the time, adding to his stress.

“I’m sorry, honey, that has to be so taxing.” I kissed him again, this time on the lips. A small apology.

“I’ll live. Now, let’s have dinner, shall we?”

I watched Mister walk away, my stomach dropping in recalling the mess of clothes I left on the bedroom floor. I launched out of my chair, wooden legs scraping against the tile.

“Wait!” I cried out, way too late.

My feet skidded as I slid to a stop in the bedroom doorway.

Mister stepped out of the bathroom, my wet towel in hand, his eyes taking in the trail of discarded clothes I left in the wake of my tantrum. Eventually his eyes met mine, his mouth splitting into a wicked grin.

“You mischievous little thing. Always a handful, huh?” He dropped the towel, curling a finger, beckoning me to him. “Come here, you brat!”

I ran for my life.

I didn’t know where to go but I figured getting the kitchen island between us was my best bet for survival. I spun around, edging around the quartz countertop, gauging the best angle for greatest distance between myself and certain doom.

Mister took his sweet time, ripping off his tie and unbuttoning the top few buttons of his white collared shirt. He rolled up his sleeves before leaning over the kitchen island, his voice dangerously low.

“Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. The choice is yours, Missy.”

I eyed him cautiously.

“Ha – like either way is going to be “easy” for me. No way, Jose – I’m not falling for your trap!” I launched for the garage door, my feet pounding the floor. A growl spurred me on, and I squealed when I was suddenly lifted up, legs catching nothing but air. I kicked out and slammed my fists on Mister’s arms. He grunted, spinning me effortlessly until I was bent over his knee.

With only panties to shield me, I cried out as Mister’s hand rained hard slaps on my bottom, punishing only one side. I lost count as he continued to spank me, the burn building viciously until tears spilled down my cheeks. I wriggled, I fought, I cursed, but eventually I resigned to my fate, accepting the seemingly endless onslaught.

Finally, Mister released me, standing me up. My right ass cheek was molten lava and I reached back to rub it. Mister snatched my hand and grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. I glared at him through my tears.

“Go stand in the corner. Don’t rub your bottom or we start this all over again. I’m going to start dinner, and we are going to sit down and enjoy it. I expect you to use this time to think about your behavior. After dinner, I want you to ask me to finish your punishment and you are going to thank me for it. Do you understand?”

I huffed, wishing my eyes were fists so I could punch his pretty face silly.

“Missy. Do. You. Understand. Me?” Mister ground out.

“Yes, sir.”

The words felt like mud in my mouth. I pouted, dragging my feet until my nose was an inch from the corner of the room.

“Pull up your shirt. I want your bottom on display.”

Thankfully, Mister couldn’t see me mocking his command as I grudgingly yanked up the fabric. I could only imagine what my backside looked like – white panties crested by a swell of blistered red skin on one side.

The cool air licked at me, teasing at my tortured ass cheek. I sniffed and wiped my eyes, embarrassment settling in my chest, heating my face. Mister grunted behind me, seemingly pleased with what he saw.

I wanted to wriggle, find some friction to ease the tension between my legs. I hated standing in the corner. I hated being spanked. I especially hated having to ask for more punishment and then thank Mister for my pain and suffering.

Why did I taunt him this morning? I always do this to myself…

The sound of rustling, glass clicking on quartz countertop, silver spoons sliding against each other, and the chop of knives on wooden cutting boards filled the kitchen. Pots and pans banged. The sizzle of butter and the succulent aroma of garlic filled the air.

I dared to peek behind me, curious as to what was being made. Mister was at the stove, sautéing something over the gas flame. His white button down hugging his frame, leaving little to the imagination. His large hands fisted some dry noodles and tossed into a boiling pot of water. Long, capable fingers tore generous bits of basil into another pan.

I was just about to turn back to the wall when Mister spun around to grab a wooden spoon.

“Ah, ah, ah! Nose to the wall, brat. If I catch you looking again, I’m gonna take this spoon and reheat your heiny.”

“You are the worst!”

I stamped my foot in protest but faced the corner.

Mister chuckled and continued what he was doing.

Minutes stretched into what seemed like an eternity before I heard plates and silverware being placed on the table. At this point, my bottom was numb. A dull ache pulsated through my core. Having only one half of my bottom punished left me feeling oddly unsatisfied. It annoyed me.

“You can come sit at the table now. Dinner is served.”

I wanted to turn my nose up at his offering of food, tell him to shove it where the sun don’t shine, but my stomach growled. And when I saw that he made my favorite meal – spaghetti with little hand rolled meatballs - my mouth immediately watered and I slid into my seat.

A hiss escaped my lips when my bottom made contact with the cold seat of the chair. I glanced up to see Mister looking quite pleased with himself – a haughty smile played on his soft lips.

“Sore?” His patronizing tone almost had me hurling my fork at his eye socket.

 Instead I smiled coolly, “Not at all. In fact, I don’t even feel anything. Must be losing your touch.”

His smile somehow grew wider, darker. “Interesting.”

I sniffed and began to shovel the omg-melt-in-your-mouth-I-could-die-happy-now-goodness. I moaned in delight, letting my head roll back as I reveled in the hot meal.

Mister twirled his fork, watching me eat. “I’m glad to see that you approve of the food.”

My chipmunk cheeks sagged as I stared at my plate. He made this for me. He didn’t hate pasta, but I never missed how he almost never ordered it when we ate out. Something about the texture of the noodles, he mentioned off-handily once.

I swallowed the food in my mouth with a mighty gulp and peeked up at him. I felt like the only human in the world by the way he looked at me. This gorgeous man worshiped me with his eyes, and I burned like a blasphemous witch under them.

“It’s delicious, hun. You made it just the way I like it. Thank you so much.”

I really meant it. I stood up on my tippy toes and leaned over the table to peck him on the forehead.

His eyes softened as he speared a meatball, “You’re welcome, sweet thing.”

My anger dissolved and we fell into an easy conversation about our plans for the weekend ahead. It was almost like I had paid for my crimes and the evening was going to end with me crying out in delight rather than in pain.

We cleared the table and laughed as the dishes were rinsed and loaded into the dishwasher.

When we were done, Mister pulled me into a passionate kiss, gripping my ass, fingers teasing at the damp fabric of my undies. I whimpered in his mouth when his tongue entered mine, tasting me. His breath was hot and needy as he demanded more, pressing me into his body. His fingers slipped under my panties, sliding between my thighs, feeling how desperate I was for him.

“Hmmm, someone’s a bad girl. All hot and bothered down there.”

I ground my hips against his hand, gasping. I fell into a trance with those jade eyes swallowing me up. Hooking my arms over his neck, I bit my lip and made the saddest puppy eyes humanly possible.

“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t mean to be a bad girl.”

“I know you don’t, little one.”

Mister lifted me up and I locked my legs over his hips, loving the way his hard length rubbed against me. He carried me to our bedroom.

Then he unceremoniously dumped me on the bed, right on top of the pillows, like last week’s garbage.

I was stunned, spinning around to see Mister look down at me. His eyes narrowed into lethal slits.

“That’s why its important to properly punish brats when they deserve it. That way the bad behavior is corrected right away,” he started to undo the rest of his buttons, leaving his white undershirt on and tossing his dress shirt on the floor, “I think there’s something you need to ask of me now, Missy.”

My mouth turned to sand. Dammit. This was sooo not going the way I was hoping it would.

“Heeey, look at you – pot calling the kettle black,” I pointed accusingly at his crumbled shirt on the floor, “Do I get to spank you next for not properly putting laundry away?”

Mister erupted with laughter, throwing back his head before snapping it back.

“I love it that you don’t know when to quit.”

With one hand, he quickly unbuckled his belt and whipped it out of his pant loops. The sound sent chills down my spine. I was so scared. And so turned on. Fuck – I hate loving this.

He looped the leather and snapped it menacingly.

“Last chance, Missy,” he cracked the belt again, making me jump, “Do you have something to ask of me?”

My thighs clenched as I gnawed on my lip. I couldn’t hide the tremor in my voice. “I honestly couldn’t say.”

Silence stretched out for several heartbeats, then a low chuckle chilled my blood.

“Oh, is that so?”                     

Fuckity fuck fuck.

I scrambled from the bed, but my legs wobbled as soon as I planted my foot on the floor. Mister had zero issues scooping me up and laying me over his lap. I cried out when the first lash hit my already very tender bottom.

Mister, expecting me to try and fight him off, pulled my arms behind my back and pinned my legs under one of his. I was utterly helpless. I bucked. I twisted. But there was no escaping him. Another hit landed, then another. My resolve cracked, then shattered.

“Please sir, have mercy!” I sobbed out as he brought the belt across my ass over and over again.

“My mercy was giving you not one but two chances to do the right thing. You made this bed, little lady, now lie in it.”

“Noooooo, please, it hurts!”

Mister laughed cruelly, “Good.”

Pain crashed over me as I took my whipping, crying pitifully into the comforter until Mister finally stopped.

He shushed me, petting my hair. Releasing me, Mister pulled me into a soft embrace, rocking me back and forth. My sobs quieted under his gentle hand.

“Shush, it’s okay now.”

I sniffled, burrowing my head into his chest, “I’m sorry, sir. Please forgive me. I’ll never leave my wet towel on the floor again. I’ll always put my dirty clothes in the hamper. Please…”

“I know you’re sorry, sweet thing.”

I nodded into his chest, my hands clutching his shirt.

“But I need you to ask for the rest of your punishment. Be a good girl now and listen to me.”

My heart felt like it was crushed into smithereens.

“No!”

Mister looked at me steadily, “Yes, little lady. Do as you’re told.”

Fresh tears fell down my face as the realization that the whipping I just took didn’t even count as a part of my original punishment. I bawled harder into his chest, my whole body aching.

My ass was never going to be the same after this.

“Please….” The words were stuck in my throat, caught between hiccups. I didn’t want to say it. It wasn’t fair. I’ve already been punished.

“Come on, now. I know you want to be a good girl for me.”

His words stirred a sudden desire to please him, wishing more for his praise.

I’d been beaten, figuratively and most certainly literally. This was my Waterloo and I needed to raise the white flag and embrace my fate. But god, did I hate it. My face burned hotter than the sun, and somehow hotter than my ass. I squeezed my eyes shut, gritting my teeth.

“Please give me the rest of my punishment, sir.”

Mister planted a kiss on the top of my head, “Good girl. Now I need you to undress and lay down on these pillows. Legs spread, please.”

“Yes, sir.” A sob tore from my throat.

He planted me on my feet, and I quietly removed my T-shirt and panties. After folding them carefully and placing them on top of my dresser, I shuffled onto the bed and draped myself over the pillows piled up in the middle. I felt so vulnerable.

Mister picked up the evil-looking cane, swishing it through the air, testing its swing. I bunched up the comforter and buried my head into it, crying softly.

A tap of the cane on my bare ass shot electric heat up my body.

“Spread those legs, young lady.”

Reluctantly, I pulled my legs apart, completely exposed. He could see everything—how wet and swollen I was. I felt like I could die.

“Good girl, now I’m going to give ten strokes on each side. No need to count them but after we are done, I want to you to ask me to paddle you. Okay?”

I swallowed hard, wishing to rewind the entire day back to when that stupid towel landed on my stupid face. Mister had never punished me like this before and I was reeling from what all was happening. Was I truly such a bad girl that I needed this punishment? I thought back to all the times he asked me nicely to pick up my clothes. I never listened. Maybe I did deserve this.

“Yes, sir.”

A grunt of approval and I heard Mister walk to my right. I tried desperately to stop from clenching, bracing for the impact, but each sound made me flinch. Every nerve in my body was firing on all cylinders. I was petrified for the caning to start. Yet, somehow, my core was dripping.

A swish and then a heavy TWACK as the cane connected with my ass. I cried out, muffling it into the bedding. The cane’s searing line sliced through me. My mind screamed—this was too much. Too cruel. And yet… I stayed still. My body betrayed me, arching into the pain. The second stroke stole my breath. Sweat covered my entire body as I desperately battled against the impulse to pull away.

Three. Four. Each stroke drove a dying moan from me. It was guttural, almost animalistic. I was unraveling.

Five. Six. Seven.

Every muscle trembled in my legs, my arms, my back. The pain blended into one burning sensation that mounted with each strike.

Eight. Nine.

I half- groaned in relief as the tenth stroke hit. A break. I could breathe.

My sobs were quiet now, tears and snot smeared my face but I didn’t care. Mister moved away from me, then the rustle of clothing, the sound of a zipper being let down.

The bed bowed under new weight and cold hands clasped my ass, gripping right into the welts. I gasped. Something nudged my entrance and instinct took over. I arched my back, inviting Mister into my throbbing warmth.

“God, you are so beautiful.”

With a single brutal thrust, Mister pushed into me. An unearthly moan escaped my lips as my body begged for more. He gripped me tight, pounding my bruised flesh. His breath was ragged and urgent as he took me. I cried out for him to use me, to take me harder, to not stop.

But then he did, pulling out, leaving me empty, leaving me wanting.

“Nooo, sir, please. This is too much.”

“It’s called discipline, sweet thing. You’re not allowed to cum on punishment spankings. Bottom up. This is your last set with the cane.”

I cursed loudly but pushed my ass out.

Mister walked over to the other side of the bed and paused.

“You know, if you had just apologized earlier, I’d be fucking you right now instead of punishing you.”

Without waiting for my reply, he started to cane me.

Each whistle wrecked my body, and I mewled like a kicked puppy. My thighs clenched involuntarily, my skin tingling with unbearable heat. My nipples tightened and scraped against the bed, my body betraying me with each brutal stroke.

One, two, three, I blubbered into the bedding, four, five, six, I swore my body was going to break in half, seven, eight, nine, there was no god – only torture and hell, and finally, ten.

Mister ran his hand over my thoroughly thrashed ass. His fingernails tracing over the raised angry lines, sending shivers down my back.

“You were such a good girl, taking all those strokes. I’m so proud of you.”

Something warm bloomed in my chest. His hand ventured over to my core, dipping his thumb into my molten center. I urged him to continue, rocking my hips back but he pulled away.

“No, no, no, no.” I begged. I pleaded. I fucking groveled. But he did not touch me again.

Mister kneeled on the bed and planted soft kisses on my wet face. He hushed me, “You’re almost done. Now ask for the last part of your spanking.”

I swallowed hard.

“Please, sir. Please paddle me.”

Mister tilted his head, “How hard should I paddle you, sweet thing.”

I gripped the bed sheets, my voice tight and soft, “As hard as I deserve, sir.”

“Such a good girl.”

Mister picked up my limp body and arranged me back over his lap. I had no fight left in me - not even to clench when cold wood connected with my hot skin.

“You have just twenty more strokes, sweet thing. I’m going to give them to you fast and hard. You ready?”

My head hung but somehow, I found the strength to nod.

Each crack of the paddle exploded against my skin, one quickly following the other in a burning blur. My shouts drowned out the onslaught as the paddle left welt after welt. I only knew it was over when Mister ran his hand tenderly down my back. He drew me up to his face, cupping my cheek so gently. His thumb ran over my lips and my jaw. Even in the state I was in, his expression burned with adoration, and I melted under it.

“Missy, I want you to know this was a long time coming. I wasn’t sure how much you could take, but I am so proud of you. You did so well.”

Even in the pit of misery, my chest swelled at his praise. A fresh well of hot tears spilled down my cheeks.

“I really am so sorry, Mister. Thank you for punishing me. I realize how childish I was. I promise to be better for you,” I wailed into his chest.

“Shush, my little one. I know. I know. It’s all over now. I got you.”

Slowly, I calmed down while Mister whispered in my ear, caressed my face, and petted my head. I had been a bad girl and now, by completing this rite of agonizing passage, I was baptized anew. I was a good girl. Yes, a good girl for my Mister.

Wiping my eyes, I glanced up at him. Need thrummed through my body. Even if I wasn’t allowed to cum, I was going to get some level of satisfaction from all of this.

I sat up, wincing as I moved off Mister’s lap, sinking to my knees in-between his legs. His emerald eyes followed me, greedy desire dripping off him. He wasn’t going to demand this from me, but I saw how much he wanted it. And I wanted it too.

He still had his slacks on, haphazardly buttoned up. I made quick work of the restraints and slowly pulled them down. My eyes never left those gorgeous green pools. He groaned when his erection sprung free and I quickly caught it in my mouth, tasting myself and his own desire. I bobbed, sucking, hallowing my cheeks, running my tongue over his length. Mister gasped, the muscles in his legs going taut. It only encouraged me.

Holding his hooded gaze, I found a rhythm and worked my mouth over him. I took him as deeply as I could, choking as it hit the back of my throat. Mister clenched a fist in my hair, his moans intoxicating. He was close. My hands cupped his balls, massaging him in tune with the dip of my head over his iron hard rod.

His grip on my hair tightened. I bottomed out on his cock, driving it as far as I could into my throat and sucked.

Mister roared at his climax, driving his hips up, gagging me until tears filled my eyes. Hot cum shot down my throat and I hungrily milked every last drop from him.

Mister fell back onto the bed. His eyes hazed over contently. I loved it when he was sucked dry. I alone had that effect on him and a feral satisfaction filled me.

I crawled up beside him, curling into a ball. Mister pulled me in close, spooning my form, his breath soft and slow on my cheek.

“I love you, sweet thing.”

“Love you too.”

***

Thank you for reading this! If you liked this story, check out Pain in the Ass!

In our next story with Mister and Missy...

A Bluetooth mishap leaves Missy exposed in the worst way possible… and Mister is far too entertained to let it slide.