Who Do You Serve?
Reader Discretion Advised
21+ Recommended
Sexually Explicit Content
******
The private room lay steeped in crimson shadow, a sanctuary of sin where the air hung heavy with the scent of aged leather, smoldering incense, and the faint promise of desire. Mirrored panels gleamed like watchful eyes beneath the low, reflecting every curve of the heavy bench that crouched in the center. I closed the door with a deliberate click that severed the world outside, trapping me and my little brat in this velvet tomb of discipline and devotion.
She stood defiant in her scrappy black lingerie; the thin collar I had fastened around her pale throat months ago was catching the light of the room. Arms crossed on her chest, chin lifted, eyes blazing with a storm. Even rebellious, my little kitten was exquisite—my wild, moonlit creature, forever dancing along the edge of my control.
“You dragged me in here like I’m some disobedient pet,” Lila spat, her voice a silken lash. “I was flirting with that guy at the bar on purpose, Sir. Maybe he’d know how to handle me.”
I moved toward her with slow, predatory grace, the leather belt tapping once against my thigh like a heartbeat. My blood sang with blazing fire. “Careful, kitten,” I murmured, the words low and laced with velvet threat. “You have earned so many punishments tonight. Do you truly forget who you belong to? That collar is not a decoration.”
She smirked, retreating until the bench brushed the backs of her thighs, her body trembling with the exquisite tension between fear and fire. “Maybe I need a reminder. You’ve grown too… passive lately. I thought you were a Dom.”
The words struck like lightning straight into my soul. A possessive feeling uncoiled within my chest. In one fluid motion, I seized the front of her collar, yanking her against me until her breath trembled against my chest. “You wish to know your place?” I growled and spun her, bending her ruthlessly over the cool leather of the bench. “Hands behind your back. Now.”
She squirmed, testing the limits of my patience, but yielded just enough to feed her defiance. “Do you want to make me? Or are you all talk tonight, Sir?”
I captured her wrists in an iron grip and drew my belt free with a slow, menacing whisper of leather. “You will be a good little kitten,” I whispered against her ear as I bent down over her. “Count every strike and thank your Master.”
The first bite of the belt across her barely veiled ass tore a sharp gasp from her throat.
“One… Thank you, Sir.” Still that bratty venom threaded her voice. “Barely felt anything.”
I answered with three merciless strokes in rapid succession, the crack of leather echoing distant thunder through the room. Crimson bloomed across her skin in an exquisite pattern. I smoothed my palm over the rising welts, drinking in her heat. “Keep counting. How lovely your ass looks painted in my displeasure, kitten. Continue with your attitude, and I shall edge you in front of the two-way mirror, so the entire club witnesses you break.”
Her thighs quivered. A fractured moan escaped her. “You wouldn’t… Fuck—Sir, please—”
I dropped the belt and slid my fingers between her slick opening. She was drenched, molten, her arousal coating the skin between her legs. “Wouldn’t I?” I breathed, a dark laugh curling through the words as I drove two fingers deep inside her. “Mmm, you are dripping, brat. All that pretty venom, yet your pussy weeps for its owner.” I stroked her with deliberate torment. “Say it. Who owns you?”
Lila rocked back, desperate; her voice splintered. “Y—you…sometimes.”
Foolish, exquisite girl. Her mouth one day will be the death of her.
I withdrew my fingers and brought my bare hand down hard upon her glowing flesh. Then I hauled her up off the bench by the collar, spun her around, and forced her down to her knees before me and freed my aching cock. “Open. And eyes on me.”
Defiance still burned in her eyes even as her full lips parted. I tangled my fingers in her hair and sank into the wet heat of her mouth. “That’s it. Choke on what belongs to you, kitten.” I moved her head in slow, claiming rhythms. She tried to close her pretty eyes. “Eyes on me, kitten.”
Tears shimmered along her full lashes. Her mascara bled in delicate rivers down her flushed cheeks. The sight of her kneeling, collared, lips stretched around my length. The sight deepened my possessive feeling for her, forcing my body to push deeper, savoring every desperate gag, every muffled whimper, until I finally pulled free with a wet, obscene sound.
I claimed her mouth in a devouring kiss, tasting my own darkness upon her tongue, then bent her once more over the bench. I yanked her soaked panties aside and drove into her with one savage thrust. Her cry was music to my ears, her velvet walls clenching around me like a prayer and a sin entwined.
“Fuuuuuck… so tight,” I groaned, burying myself to the hilt in her molten depths.
I kept drilling into her with deep, punishing strokes—each one a brand. One hand fisted in her hair, the other bruising her hip. “You will remember who you belong to,” I rasped, voice roughened by lust and aching love. “My perfect little kitten. I adore breaking you apart… only to remake you in my arms.”
Her voice dissolved into soft, trembling moans.
I reached beneath her to circle her swollen, throbbing clit, slowing my thrusts to long, soul-deep strokes that dragged against every sensitive nerve. Her breathing fractured and thighs shook violently. She hovered at the precipice, clenching around me in desperate, rhythmic need.
“You want to keep acting up for me? Run that little fucking mouth?” I snarl, “What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I-I,” Her voice cracked, but finally I got what I wanted. “I’m sorry, Master. I promise I’ll be good. Please…please let me come for you.”
God, she’s so pretty when she begs, “And what else do you want, kitten? What do you want your Master to do?”
“Fuck me, punish me! Please, mark me like a little pet.”
And then I stopped.
I withdrew my fingers from her clit and stilled completely, buried to the hilt yet offering nothing more. Lila whimpered, frantic, trying to rock back against me.
“Sir—please—”
“No,” I said, my voice calm and merciless, though dark fire roared through my veins and in my ears, but she needed to be taught a lesson. “My brat, who flirts with strangers in my club, does not get to come tonight.” I gave her one final, teasing thrust—slow, cruel, perfect—then withdrew entirely, leaving her empty, aching, and beautifully ruined.
She made a broken, keening sound of protest, but I was already gathering her into my arms. I pulled her trembling body against my chest as I sat down on the bench, and wrapped her in the shelter of my embrace. Her skin burned against mine, her ass a blazing map of my marks. I pressed tender kisses to her forehead, stroking her damp hair with reverent fingers.
“I’ve got you, Lila. Always. But you’ve gotta be careful next time.”
She curled into me like a wounded moonflower, voice small and trembling with unsatisfied hunger. “Even when I’m a total brat?”
A soft, dark chuckle escaped me. I tightened my arms, holding her closer still. “Especially then. That is my favorite incarnation of you—wild, impossible and mine.” I brushed another kiss to her temple, savoring the way she melted despite the cruel denial I knew was still pulsing hot between her thighs. “Tomorrow, if you are very, very good… perhaps I shall allow you to earn your release.”
For now, she remained exactly as I desired her: marked, owned, trembling, and exquisitely denied beneath the reflecting gaze of the mirrors. My perfect gothic rose, forever blooming in the dark garden of my control.
