After finally arranging the fresh produce in the crisper drawer and tucking away the last box of pasta, I settle for a dinner of lemon-drizzled arugula and a slice of sourdough. My limbs feel heavy with exhaustion as I slide between the cool sheets, but my mind races with possibilities of what Aaron has planned—whether he'll bind my wrists with the soft leather cuffs or use the silk blindfold that makes every touch electric.

The next morning, I step from the steaming shower and pat my flushed skin dry. I slip into the formfitting navy dress Aaron selected—conservative enough for the office with its knee-length hem, but with a neckline that dips just low enough to reveal the delicate silver chain only he and I know the significance of. The rich aroma of French roast fills my kitchen as I scroll through my calendar, my pulse quickening when I see the noon meeting in Aaron's corner office with its floor-to-ceiling windows and discreetly lockable door. A smile plays at my lips; concentrating on quarterly projections will be nearly impossible with the memory of his last text message promising an "unforgettable evening."

At my desk, I squint at the Harrison spreadsheet, the columns of numbers swimming before my eyes. My forehead creases as I trace a finger along the misaligned figures, wondering how the client managed to create such a tangled financial web. The sudden vibration against my thigh makes me jump. My phone screen illuminates with his message:

"Good morning, my beautiful submissive. I hope you slept well after yesterday and last night.

Master."

My fingers hover over the keyboard as I craft my response, acutely aware of the way my body responds to just seeing his words on the screen.

"Good morning, Master. I slept deeply but dreamed of tonight. The anticipation is making it difficult to focus on work."

I hit send and immediately regret revealing so much vulnerability, but his reply comes swiftly:

"Good. I want you distracted. Every time you lose focus today, you'll think of me. Speaking of which—during our noon meeting, I want you to cross and uncross your legs exactly three times. Slowly. Make sure I notice."

Heat floods my cheeks as I glance around the open office, grateful that my cubicle walls shield my flushed face from curious coworkers. The Harrison spreadsheet becomes even more incomprehensible as my mind conjures images of Aaron's dark eyes tracking the movement of my legs during what should be a routine client review. I type back with trembling fingers:

"Yes, Master. I'll make sure you notice."

I force myself to return to the spreadsheet, but the numbers blur as I imagine the slow, deliberate movement of fabric against my skin while Aaron watches from behind his imposing mahogany desk. Three times. Not two, not four. His specificity both thrills and terrifies me—a test of my obedience in plain sight.

The morning crawls by in excruciating increments. Sarah stops by my desk at eleven, coffee in hand and eyebrows raised in silent question.

"You look... intense today," she observes, leaning against my cubicle wall. "Big meeting?"

"Just the Harrison account review with Aaron," I say, aiming for casual but hearing the slight catch in my voice.

Sarah's lips curl into a knowing smile. "Right. Just a standard review meeting that has you flushed and fidgeting like a teenager before prom." She sips her coffee, studying me over the rim. "You two are getting serious, aren't you?"

I busy myself rearranging papers that don't need rearranging. "It's complicated."

"The best things usually are." She taps my desk with perfectly manicured nails. "Drinks soon? I want details that won't make me blush in the office."

"Promise," I say, grateful when her phone buzzes and she excuses herself to take the call.

Alone again, I check the time—11:40. Twenty minutes until I have to walk into Aaron's office and perform this small act of submission with our colleagues present. My stomach flutters with a mixture of anxiety and anticipation.

I gather the Harrison files and my notepad, checking my reflection in my compact mirror one final time. The navy dress hugs my curves perfectly, and the silver chain catches the light as I adjust my neckline. My lipstick is intact, though I've been worrying my bottom lip all morning.

The walk to Aaron's office feels endless. My heels click against the polished floors as I pass colleagues who nod politely, completely unaware of the electric tension coursing through my veins. When I reach his door, I pause to collect myself before knocking.

"Come in," his voice calls, professional and commanding even through the thick wood.

I enter to find three other people already seated around his conference table—Janet from accounting, Marcus from legal, and David from client relations. Aaron stands behind his desk, immaculate in a charcoal suit that emphasizes his broad shoulders. His eyes meet mine briefly, and I catch the momentary flash of heat before his professional mask slides back into place.

"Nikki, thank you for joining us," he says, gesturing to the remaining chair—directly across from him. "We were just discussing the discrepancies in the third-quarter projections."

I settle into the seat, arranging my files before me with hands that tremble slightly. "I've identified several inconsistencies in their reporting structure," I say, proud of how steady my voice sounds despite the thundering of my heart.

Janet launches into a detailed analysis of the tax implications, but I'm hyperaware of Aaron's gaze periodically returning to me. The weight of his attention feels like a physical touch, trailing heat across my skin. I cross my legs casually, watching through lowered lashes as his eyes track the movement. His expression remains impassive, but I notice the slight tightening of his jaw.

As I listen to Janet, I feel my phone vibrate against my thigh. I look down at it under the table, biting my lip when I see Aaron’s name pop up and open the message.

“You look stunning this morning. Here’s your task for tonight,#11 is to review your first 10 tasks and answer: 1) Greatest Turn-on Task, 2) Most Fun Task, 3) Least Fun Task, 4) Sacriest Task, 4) Most Intense Orgasm Task, 5) Task You'd Least Like to Do Again, and 6) Task You'd Most Like to Do Again? Then do the task in answer # 6. Here's a list of tasks so far:

Task 1 - Co-Worker Dream Re-enactment

Task 2 - Hand in Panties at work, shopping, or dining out

Task 3 - Cycle Game denial

Task 4 - No Panties when you were out at work, shopping, or dining out

Task 5 - Dildo play with orgasm denial while sitting in a Vee

Task 6 - Hard Nipple pulling in the bathroom or closet

Task 7 - No Panties all day or evening

Task 8 - On Tummy for orgasm denial while using a Vibrator

Task 9 - Re-enacting a Story you wrote about a Photo

Task 10 - No Panties while listening to the Radio in the car

We’ll discuss it tonight at my place.

Master.”

My breath catches as I read his message, the list of tasks flooding my mind with vivid memories. Each one represents a moment of surrender, a step deeper into this intoxicating dynamic we've created. Under the table, I shift in my seat, acutely aware of how the memories alone are affecting my body.

I glance up to find Aaron watching me with those penetrating dark eyes, his expression giving nothing away to our colleagues. But I can see the subtle curve at the corner of his mouth—he knows exactly what he's done to me.

Marcus is discussing liability issues now, his voice a distant drone as I struggle to process Aaron's latest command. The idea of revisiting these experiences, ranking them by intensity and desire, sends heat spiraling through my core. And then to repeat whichever one I choose as my favorite...

I uncross my legs slowly, watching Aaron's gaze drop momentarily before returning to Marcus. I recross my legs in the opposite direction, feeling the smooth fabric of my dress slide against my skin. Aaron's fingers tighten almost imperceptibly around his pen. Two down, one to go.

Janet asks me a question about the Henderson account's allocation structure, and I force myself to focus, pulling numbers from memory while hyperaware of Aaron's steady gaze. As I finish my explanation, I execute the final leg cross, deliberately slower than the previous two. The movement draws a flicker of heat to Aaron's eyes—there and gone so quickly that no one else would notice.

"Excellent analysis, Nikki," he says, his professional tone betraying nothing of what passes between us. "I'd like you to draft a revised proposal based on these findings."

The meeting concludes with assignments distributed and follow-ups scheduled. As everyone gathers their materials, Aaron casually adds, "Nikki, could you stay behind for a moment? I have some additional thoughts on the Henderson revisions."

My pulse quickens as the others file out, Janet pausing to mention she'll send me the updated tax codes by end of day. When the door finally closes behind David, the silence stretches between us like a taut wire.

Aaron doesn't speak immediately. Instead, he moves to the windows, hands clasped behind his back as he gazes out at the city below. The afternoon light catches the sharp lines of his profile, and I remain seated, waiting.

"You performed beautifully," he says finally, his voice dropping to that intimate register that makes my insides melt. "Three times, exactly as instructed. The last one was particularly... deliberate."

Heat floods my cheeks. "I wanted to make sure you noticed, Master."

He turns then, leaning against the window frame with arms crossed. The professional mask has slipped completely away, replaced by the commanding presence that rules my private world. His dark eyes travel the length of my body, assessing me with unhurried appreciation.

"Stand up," he instructs quietly.

I rise from my chair, smoothing my dress with nervous hands. Aaron remains by the window, watching me with that intensity that makes me feel simultaneously exposed and cherished.

"Come here."

I cross the room on legs that feel suddenly unsteady, stopping a foot away from him. The city sprawls behind him through the glass, a backdrop of steel and concrete that emphasizes the intimate bubble we've created in this professional space.

"Closer," he murmurs.

I step forward until barely inches separate us. From this close, I can see the subtle variations of color in his dark eyes, smell the expensive cologne that clings to his skin.

"Turn around."

I pivot slowly, presenting my back to him. His hand settles at the nape of my neck, the touch so light it might be my imagination. I hold my breath as his fingers trail down my spine, following the seam of my dress to where it ends just below my shoulder blades.

"I've been thinking about tonight," Aaron says, his voice a low rumble near my ear. "About how beautifully you'll present yourself at my door. About the ways I'll reward your obedience."

His palm presses flat against my back, warm through the fabric of my dress. I fight to keep my breathing steady, aware of the glass windows behind us, the office full of colleagues just beyond the door.

"Have you thought about your answers yet?" he asks. "Which task made you tremble the most? Which one had you begging the sweetest?"

"I—I need time to consider," I manage, my voice barely audible. "They each affected me differently."

"Good," Aaron murmurs, his breath warm against my ear. "I want you to feel each one again as you review them. Remember how your body responded, how your mind surrendered." His hand slides lower on my back, stopping just above the curve of my waist. "When you choose which to repeat tonight, I want it to be the one that strips you most completely bare."

A soft knock at the door makes us both freeze. Aaron steps back smoothly, his professional demeanor sliding into place like armor as I turn to face the room.

"Come in," he calls, moving behind his desk with practiced ease.

Sarah pokes her head through the door, her eyes darting between us with barely concealed curiosity. "Sorry to interrupt. Nikki, you left this at your desk." She holds up my coffee mug, but her knowing smile suggests she's fishing for information about why our "post-meeting discussion" is taking so long.

"Thank you," I say, crossing the room to take the mug from her, willing my face to remain neutral despite the heat I can feel radiating from my cheeks.

"No problem," Sarah replies with a meaningful glance. "The Henderson file you were looking for earlier is on your desk too."

"I'll be back at my station shortly," I assure her, my voice impressively steady considering the lingering electricity from Aaron's touch. "Just finalizing some details."

After Sarah retreats, closing the door behind her with a soft click, Aaron chuckles low in his throat. "She suspects."

"She knows," I correct him, setting the mug on the conference table. "Not everything, but enough."

Aaron nods, seemingly unconcerned as he gathers papers on his desk. "Seven tonight," he reminds me. I nod as I leave his office, praying that my face doesn’t give anything away.

The rest of the day seems to drag by, with the only reprieve being lunch in the cafe downstairs with Sarah.

"So," Sarah begins, stabbing at her salad with theatrical precision, "what exactly was that 'additional discussion' about the Henderson account?"

I take a deliberate sip of water, buying time. "Just some allocation adjustments. Nothing exciting."

"Right." She leans forward, voice dropping. "And that's why your lipstick was slightly smudged when you finally returned to your desk?"

My hand flies to my mouth instinctively before I realize she's bluffing. The triumphant gleam in her eyes confirms it.

"Got you," she smirks. "But seriously, whatever's happening between you two is transforming you. I've never seen you like this—all glowy and distracted."

I push my quinoa bowl around with my fork. "It's complicated."

"You keep saying that," Sarah sighs, "but all I see is a woman who looks happier than I've ever seen her. Complicated doesn't have to be bad, you know."

I meet her gaze, surprised by the genuine warmth there. "It's not bad. It's... intense. In the best possible way."

Sarah studies me for a moment longer before nodding. "Just be careful with your heart, okay? Office romances are tricky enough without adding..." she waves her hand vaguely, "whatever extra dynamics you two have going on."

"I promise I'm being careful," I lie, knowing full well my heart is already far too involved.

The afternoon crawls by in a haze of spreadsheets and client calls, but my mind continually drifts to Aaron's task. I open a private document and begin typing, forcing myself to methodically review each experience:

Task 1 - Co-Worker Dream Re-enactment: That first night, following Aaron's detailed instructions to touch myself while imagining him watching. How vulnerable I'd felt, knowing he would review every detail of my submission the next day.

Task 2 - Hand in Panties at work: The heart-stopping terror and thrill of slipping my fingers beneath the conference table during the Miller presentation, Aaron's knowing gaze the only acknowledgment as I struggled to maintain composure.

Task 3 - Cycle Game denial: The frustration of starts and stops, the anticipation of building arousal without release, each denial making the next more unbearable until I was nearly sobbing with need.

Task 4 - No Panties when out: The constant awareness of my exposure beneath the pencil skirt during the charity luncheon, the secret only Aaron and I shared among hundreds.

Task 5 - Dildo play with orgasm denial while sitting in a Vee: The supply closet on the third floor that he had set up for me. The fear of someone catching me.

Task 6-Hard Nipple pulling in bathroom or closet: The dinner party where Sarah first suspected something was going on between me and Aaron, although she didn’t know it was him at the time.

Task 7 - No Panties all day or evening: The fear of someone noticing or accidentally bending over wrong.

Task 8 - On Tummy for orgasm denial while using Vibrator: The thrill of Aaron watching as I reenact his dream.

Task 9 - Re-enacting a Story you wrote about a Photo: The day I finally let Sarah in on my secret, her help in recreating the photo he left for me that morning changed something in our relationship.

Task 10 - No Panties while listening to the Radio in the car: My latest task. The interruptions, the denial.

As I drive to Aaron’s, I try to decide how to rank them as he instructed. My hands grip the steering wheel as I mentally rank each task, the memories flooding back with startling clarity.

**Greatest Turn-on Task**: Without question, Task 8 - the vibrator denial while Aaron watched me recreate his dream. The combination of his dark eyes witnessing my vulnerability and the exquisite torture of being brought to the edge repeatedly had left me shaking for hours afterward.

**Most Fun Task**: Task 9 - re-enacting the photo with Sarah's help. Despite the emotional intensity, there had been something liberating about sharing that part of myself with my best friend, creating art from submission.

**Least Fun Task**: Task 6 - pulling my nipples in the bathroom during the dinner party. The clinical coldness of the bathroom stall, the fear of discovery, the sharp pain without Aaron's comforting presence had felt more punishing than pleasurable.

**Scariest Task**: Task 10 - the car radio challenge. The elderly man knocking on my window when I was moments from climax still makes my stomach clench with remembered terror. The public exposure, the risk of real consequences, pushed me further than I'd ever gone before.

**Most Intense Orgasm Task**: Task 3 - the cycle game denial. When Aaron finally granted permission after hours of edging, the release had been so powerful I'd nearly blacked out, tears streaming down my face as wave after wave crashed through me.

**Task I'd Least Like to Do Again**: Task 6 again. The clinical bathroom setting had felt disconnected from the intimacy that makes our dynamic so powerful. Without Aaron's presence, his voice, his approval, the act had felt hollow.

**Task I'd Most Like to Do Again**: Task 8 - being on my stomach, using the vibrator while Aaron watched. There was something about his gaze on me as I followed his instructions that made me feel both completely vulnerable and utterly powerful. The way he controlled my pleasure from across the room, voice steady and commanding even as I trembled and begged—I've never felt more connected to anyone.

I pull into the parking garage beneath Aaron's luxury high-rise, my body already humming with anticipation. The elevator ride to the penthouse gives me time to smooth my dress and check my reflection in the mirrored walls. The black dress with the zipper down the back hugs every curve exactly as Aaron prefers—elegant yet accessible. Just as he'd instructed, I wear nothing underneath, the silk lining cool against my bare skin.

At precisely 7:00, I knock on his door, my heart pounding with anticipation. Seconds later, the door swings open to reveal Aaron in tailored black slacks and a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled to expose his forearms. His dark eyes sweep over me, taking in every detail of the black dress he specified.

"Right on time," he says, stepping aside to let me enter. "I appreciate your punctuality."

His penthouse is immaculate as always—minimalist furnishings in shades of gray and black, floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the city lights spreading out below us. A bottle of red wine breathes on the kitchen island, two glasses waiting beside it.

"You look beautiful," he says, closing the door behind me. "Turn around."

I pivot slowly, feeling his gaze trace the zipper that runs down my spine from nape to the small of my back. His fingers brush against the metal pull, not yet tugging it down, just acknowledging its presence and promise.

"Have you completed your analysis?" he asks, his voice dropping to that intimate register that makes my skin tingle.

"Yes, Master." I meet his gaze steadily, though my pulse races. "I've ranked each task as instructed."

Aaron gestures toward the sleek leather sofa. "Sit. Tell me what you discovered."

I perch on the edge of the cushion, hyperaware of the silk dress against my bare skin as Aaron pours two glasses of wine. He hands me one before taking the armchair opposite, his posture relaxed yet commanding.

"Begin with your least favorite," he instructs, swirling the burgundy liquid in his glass.

I take a fortifying sip before answering. "Task 6—pulling my nipples in the bedroom closet during the dinner party. The one where Sarah almost caught me.

"What made that one so unsatisfying?" Aaron asks, leaning forward slightly, his eyes intent on my face.

I consider my answer carefully, wanting to be honest. "It felt... disconnected. Without you there, without your voice guiding me, it felt mechanical. Clinical." I take another sip of wine, the rich flavor coating my tongue. "The physical sensation was there, but the emotional component was missing."

Aaron nods slowly, processing my response. "And the scariest?"

"Task 10—yesterday in the car." My voice drops as I recall the elderly man's concerned face peering through my window. "When that man knocked, thinking I was in distress... I've never felt such conflicting emotions. Terror and mortification, but also this perverse thrill that made everything more intense."

"Fear often does that," Aaron observes, his eyes never leaving mine. "It heightens every sensation, makes you feel more alive." He takes a measured sip of his wine. "Tell me about the most intense orgasm."

"Task 3," I say without hesitation, heat flooding my cheeks at the memory. "The cycle game denial. When you finally let me come after all that edging, I thought I might actually lose consciousness. I remember crying—not from pain, but from the sheer overwhelming release."

Aaron's eyes darken with satisfaction. "I remember. You were so beautiful in that moment, completely undone." He sets his glass on the side table and leans forward, elbows on his knees. "And your favorite? The one you want to repeat tonight?"

My breath catches. "Task 8. Using the vibrator while you watched me recreate your dream. The way you controlled my pleasure from across the room, your voice commanding me even as I fell apart... I've never felt more connected to anyone than I did in that moment," I admit, my voice dropping to a whisper. "The vulnerability of being watched while completely exposed, yet feeling so safe under your control."

Aaron's expression shifts subtly, a flash of something primal darkening his eyes before his composure returns. He rises from the chair with fluid grace, setting his wine glass aside as he approaches.

"Stand," he commands softly.

I obey immediately, the wine glass trembling slightly in my hand as I place it on the coffee table. Aaron circles me slowly, his gaze a physical touch trailing across my skin. When he stops behind me, I feel his breath warm against my neck.

"I remember every detail of that night," he murmurs, fingers finding the zipper pull at the top of my dress. "How you trembled when I first instructed you to lie on your stomach. The way you looked in the corset."

The sound of the zipper sliding down my spine sends a shiver rippling through me. Aaron's knuckles brush against my skin as he lowers it with deliberate slowness, exposing inch after inch of my bare back.

"The corset forced such beautiful posture," he continues, his voice a low caress. "The way it made you arch, presenting yourself so perfectly." His fingertips trace the newly revealed line of my spine. "Tonight, we'll use something different."

The dress loosens around me as the zipper reaches its end. Aaron slips his hands inside the opening, palms warm against my skin as he eases the fabric from my shoulders. The silk whispers down my body, pooling at my feet in a dark puddle.

"Step out," he instructs, and I obey, standing naked and vulnerable in the center of his living room. The city lights glitter beyond the windows, casting patterns of light and shadow across my exposed skin. Aaron moves to retrieve something from a sleek black cabinet I hadn't noticed before, returning with coils of soft black rope.

"Your hands," he says simply.

I extend my arms toward him, pulse hammering as he begins to wind the rope around my wrists with practiced precision. The silk is impossibly soft against my skin, yet firm enough to hold me securely. He works methodically, creating an intricate pattern that extends up my forearms, each loop both beautiful and inescapable.

"Turn around."

I pivot to face away from him, feeling him guide my bound arms behind my back. More rope encircles my torso, creating a harness that frames my breasts and emphasizes my vulnerability. Unlike the restrictive corset from our last encounter, this bondage allows me to breathe freely while making me acutely aware of every inch of skin it touches.

"Perfect," Aaron murmurs, his breath warm against my ear as he adjusts the final knots. "Now, to the bedroom."

He guides me down the hallway with a hand at the small of my back, the rope harness shifting subtly with each step. His bedroom is as minimalist as the rest of his penthouse, dominated by a king-sized bed with charcoal sheets. On the nightstand, I spot a familiar silver vibrator alongside what appears to be a small remote control.

"On the bed," he instructs. "Face down, just like before."

I climb onto the mattress awkwardly, my bound arms making balance challenging. The silk sheets are cool against my heated skin as I settle into position, the rope harness pulling slightly as I adjust. Aaron positions pillows beneath my hips, angling my body in a way that leaves me completely exposed to his gaze.

"This time," Aaron says, his voice dropping to that commanding tone that makes my core clench with anticipation, "you won't just be recreating my dream. You'll be living it exactly as I direct you, moment by moment."

I hear him settling into the chair he's positioned at the foot of the bed, the leather creaking softly under his weight. The vibrator hums to life, but instead of placing it in my hands, I feel him positioning it beneath me, the smooth surface pressing against my already sensitized flesh.

"But first," he continues, and I hear the soft click of what must be the remote, "tell me why this task affected you so deeply. What was it about my watching that made you feel so connected?"

The vibrator pulses against me—not the steady rhythm I expect, but a teasing pattern of stops and starts that makes my hips instinctively seek more pressure. I gasp as the sensation intensifies suddenly, then fades to nothing, leaving me trembling against the sheets.

"Answer me," Aaron commands, his voice steady while I struggle to form coherent thoughts. "Why does being watched make you feel so vulnerable yet so powerful?"

"Because," I breathe, my voice muffled against the pillow, "when you watch me, I'm not just following instructions. I'm... I'm performing my desire for you. Every movement, every sound I make is a gift I'm giving you."

The vibrator pulses again, stronger this time, and I arch involuntarily against the restraints. The rope harness tightens across my chest, reminding me of my helplessness.

"And what else?" Aaron's voice remains maddeningly calm while I writhe beneath the teasing stimulation.

"It's the ultimate submission," I gasp as another wave of vibration courses through me. "When you see me completely undone, when I can't hide anything—my pleasure, my desperation, my need—I'm giving you a part of myself I've never shared with anyone else."

The vibrator falls silent again, leaving me trembling on the precipice. I hear Aaron shift in his chair, the soft rustle of fabric suggesting he's leaning forward.

"And what do you receive in return?" he asks, his voice a shade rougher than before.

I press my forehead against the cool silk of the pillowcase, searching for words to explain the inexplicable. "Freedom," I whisper finally. "When I surrender control to you, when I trust you completely with my pleasure and my vulnerability, I'm free from having to be strong, from making decisions, from maintaining the walls I've built around myself. In those moments, I can just... exist. Pure sensation, pure need, pure trust."

The vibrator springs to life again, this time with a relentless intensity that makes me cry out against the pillow. My bound hands flex helplessly behind my back as the waves of pleasure build rapidly.

"That's exactly what I want to give you," Aaron says, his voice thick with desire now. "Complete freedom through complete surrender."

The stimulation cuts off abruptly, leaving me gasping and trembling on the edge of release. I hear him rise from the chair, his footsteps approaching the bed. The mattress dips as he settles beside me, one warm hand coming to rest on the small of my back.

"Look at me," he commands softly.

I turn my head, meeting his dark eyes through the haze of arousal. His professional mask has completely fallen away, replaced by raw hunger and something deeper—something that looks like reverence.

"You're exquisite like this," he murmurs, his thumb tracing circles against my spine. "Bound and trembling, completely at my mercy yet trusting me with everything you are."

His free hand finds the remote, and the vibrator hums to life once more. This time he doesn't tease—the rhythm is steady and insistent, designed to drive me inexorably toward the edge. My hips buck against the device as pleasure coils tighter in my core.

"Don't hold back," Aaron commands, his voice rough with desire. "I want to see you fall apart for me. Show me how beautiful you are when you surrender completely."

The combination of his words and the relentless vibration pushes me past the point of no return. My climax crashes over me with devastating force, my body convulsing against the restraints as I cry out Aaron's name, the sound tearing from my throat with raw abandon. The vibrator continues its merciless assault as I shudder through waves of pleasure, each one crashing higher than the last. The rope harness tightens across my chest with each desperate arch of my back, the restriction enhancing every sensation.

"That's it," Aaron murmurs, his voice a caress against my heated skin. "Let go completely."

Just when I think I can't possibly take more, he increases the intensity, driving me straight into a second climax that blindsides me with its ferocity. Tears spring to my eyes as pleasure borders on exquisite pain, my bound hands clenching helplessly behind me.

"Please," I gasp, unsure if I'm begging him to stop or continue. "Aaron, please—"

The vibration ceases abruptly, leaving me trembling, and breathless.

Aaron shifts beside me, his weight leaving the mattress. I hear the rustle of fabric, then the metallic sound of a belt buckle. My body still pulses with aftershocks, each one sending tremors through my bound form. The rope harness feels like an extension of his hands, holding me in this position of complete surrender.

"You called me Aaron," he observes, his voice carrying that dangerous edge that makes my breath catch. "Not Master."

I realize my mistake immediately, tension rippling through my already oversensitive body. "I'm sorry, Master," I whisper, voice hoarse from crying out. "I wasn't thinking clearly."

"No," he agrees, returning to the bed. His palm lands with unexpected gentleness on the curve of my rear. "You weren't thinking at all. That's exactly what I wanted."