Pose

What does it mean for you to obey me?

His question bounced around in her mind as she struggled to quell the tremble of her limbs. She’d assumed her practiced pose the moment she’d walked into the room, trying to ignore both her discomfort and irritation at waiting there for him.

The ache in her arms increased by the minute from holding them behind her head, her calves strained to keep her steady, her stomach quivered as she held until he said the words that would release her.

What does it mean to obey? Why do you feel compelled to do it for me?

The second question rattled her more than the first. Why? Why did she want to obey when rebellion lived like a creature in her belly. She felt unexplainable rage with each of his commands. There didn’t seem to be a sensible answer for the swarm of contradictory feelings inside her.

The urge to balk and talk back, tell him to go fuck himself with his rules warred inside her. Her mouth trembled with the force of the words she held back. They lined up single file ready spit at him every time he issued a directive without regard for her wishes.

The words never tumbled from her lips. Instead she moved to heed, obey, please him. That need eased the bitter tinge that coated her tongue, turning it into a sweeter taste in her mouth as she knelt at his feet.

“Chin up and shoulders back more.”

His tone, so commanding and sure, chafed and heated her in equal parts. She was independent and take charge, stubborn to the core and opposed to letting someone boss her around. And yet…

“Legs wide. Make yourself uncomfortable for me.”

She bit back a growl, spreading her legs until her inner thighs ached with the stretch. While anger fought with desire, she obeyed. She held her pose at his command, allowing him complete visual access to her body. The way he looked at her, pleasure etched in the lines of his face, filled her with unimaginable warmth.

In spite of her urge to disobey, the quickness of her obedience belying the daggers shooting from her eyes, the conflict stirred a deeper arousal. Heat whipped through her core as he continued to inspect her. She felt the wetness coating the lips of her cunt in response.

Why did she obey? What compelled her when rebellion burned so bright inside her?

She adjusted to his specifications, jutting her breasts forward as she moved her shoulders. His low murmur of approval sending another wave of heat through her.

It was as simple as a need to submit to one worth of her submission. He inspired obedience and so she obeyed. It trumped all her supposed protests and good sense. It kept her coming back and stoked her latent desire to a roaring fire. The need to be obstinate may never fade, but the need to please him grew brighter each time they met.