#domstefan

The boarding house was silent but for the heavy sound of your breathing and the deliberate click of Stefan’s shoes on the floorboards. His eyes pinned you in place—green, dark with the kind of focus that left no room for escape. He stood before you, arms folded, shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, the picture of calm control, though the tension rolling off him was anything but.

“You thought you could defy me,” Stefan said, voice velvet steel, neither raised nor hurried. “You thought I wouldn’t notice.”

Your lips parted to protest, but he silenced you with a raised hand. “No excuses.” His gaze flicked over you, lingering on the way you squirmed in the chair he’d placed you in, wrists bound loosely with his tie, ankles spread and locked by his knees braced on either side. “Tonight, you learn what disobedience earns you.”

He sank to his knees in front of you, fingers ghosting up your thighs, light as a whisper until they reached the edge of your skirt. “Punishment,” he murmured, “with pleasure sharp enough to make you regret your arrogance.”

His mouth descended slowly, lips brushing your inner thigh, the scrape of his fangs a deliberate tease. You jolted when his breath warmed over your soaked panties, your hips twitching upward instinctively. Stefan smirked against the fabric. “Already desperate, and I haven’t even started.”

With deliberate patience, he dragged your panties aside and pressed the faintest kiss to your clit. The tenderness of it burned more than cruelty. He kissed again, slow, reverent, then licked a long stripe down your slit, his tongue soft, savoring. A moan broke from your throat, needy and high.

“That’s not begging,” he said, pulling back, his lips glistening with your slick. “That’s indulgence. Punishment means restraint.”

He leaned back in, mouth closing around your clit, sucking just hard enough to make your back arch. Then—he stopped. Completely. He sat back on his heels, eyes locked on yours, his hands firm on your thighs keeping you open while your hips writhed uselessly.

“Stefan—please—” you gasped.

“Not good enough.” His voice was darker now, edged with command. “Beg like you mean it.”

You whimpered, shame and need tangling, the ropes of his control tightening invisibly around you. “Please, Stefan, I’ll do anything, just—please let me come.”

His smirk softened into something dangerous, something fond. He bent back down, this time devouring you. His tongue flicked mercilessly over your clit, his mouth sucking, worshiping, punishing all at once. He groaned into you, the sound vibrating through your body until you screamed, your thighs clenching around his head, bound wrists straining against the tie.

The orgasm hit you like a wave, violent, shuddering, wracking you with sobs as he licked and sucked through every convulsion. He didn’t stop—didn’t give you reprieve—his hands pinning you down, tongue relentless as he pushed you into overstimulation, tears slipping hot down your cheeks.

“Too much?” he asked when you screamed his name again, voice tight with another climax building. He kissed your thigh, gentle as a lover, before plunging back between your legs like a master punishing his wayward student. “Good. You’ll learn.”

You broke again, body shaking, pleasure and punishment blurred into one as Stefan swallowed every drop of your ruin like it belonged to him. And when you sagged against the chair, trembling, spent, his lips brushed yours in a kiss so tender it contradicted the cruelty of his discipline.