The Mistress's Collared Husband: Femdom Pegging Erotic Degradation Romance

Our hands brush over the ledger in the quiet hallway, and Simon does not step back. His head is already bowed, thick thighs braced, as if he feels the collar waiting upstairs and the photographs left exposed on the porch rail.

I give the next command the way I always do, voice level to mask the fear. The succession depends on keeping our names clean, yet his obedience pulls at me until I want to buckle the leather tight and degrade every inch of him until he admits what neither of us dares name.

If I open that drawer tonight the life we guard could break apart. Still my fingers stay against his, and the order I need to give next rises before I can stop it.