~Obedience is not optional~

You were made to be taken.

You can struggle, cry, whimper all you want, Baby, I want it. That pretty little protest, that useless squirming, it only makes me harder. You know the rules. You wanted this. You begged for this.

My hands don’t ask. They claim.
My voice doesn’t coax. It commands.
And your body? Mine. Every inch. Every slick, trembling, aching part of it.

You're my Pet, but not the kind that stays clean. You're the kind that gets ruined on velvet sheets, pinned down, used until you're soaked and shaking and your throat can't say my name anymore.

I don’t care how many times you come.
I care how many times you surrender.

And when I'm done, when I've filled you, marked you, broken you open, you’ll look up at me with that ruined mouth and whisper, “Thank you, Daddy.”

Because that’s what you are now.
My Baby.
My cumslut.
Mine.