you don’t even realize it anymore, do you ? how wired your body is to me. how trained it’s become
the morning starts with fingers between your thighs before your eyes even open, my voice against your neck, low and warm, telling you to be good and stay still. you try, you always do. but your hips are already twitching, your need already blooming, and i haven’t even said “cum” yet
i kiss your cheek, make you coffee, slide my hand down the front of your shorts when you pass me the mug. no warning. no teasing. just straight to the heat, just to feel how wet you still are. and of course you whimper, of course your knees wobble, of course you’re already clenching. one orgasm before breakfast. two, if i feel generous. or cruel
i press you up against the wall as you brush your teeth, hand on your throat, whispering filth between each spit and rinse. you look at me with suds on your lips and pupils blown wide, like some dumb little doll who forgot what day it is. that’s okay. you won’t need to know
by midday, you’re flushed. distracted. soaked. the toy inside you is still going, pulsing slow and steady, not enough to let you fall apart yet just enough to remind you who you belong to. you fidget through every call, every errand, every polite smile you force as if you’re not seconds away from dripping down your thighs
later, i pull you into my lap during a movie, spread your legs without a word, and slide two fingers in like i own the right. because i do. you stifle a moan, press your pretty face into my shoulder. sweet thing. no one told you being good meant being ruined hourly
and when night falls ? you know what’s coming. the real cruelty. the deep, shaking overstimulation. the “no darling doll, we're not done yet,” kind. the “hold still while i make you cum again” kind. the trembling legs, the soaked sheets, the way your voice breaks when you try to beg but all that comes out is a gasp and a cry
you were mine all day. soft and used and glowing. and tomorrow ?
we’ll do it all over again
