She hadn’t expected to see him this morning. Their schedules had been colliding, both of them drowning in responsibilities, days stretching long with no space for each other. She’d convinced herself it wouldn’t happen, that he wouldn’t come. So, when the message landed — sharp, commanding — I’m on my way, her entire body reacted. Excitement, nerves, hunger all communicated at once. With him, there was never expectation, but when he appeared, it was spectacular.

His instructions were simple. Two toys of her choice. Unlock the door. Assume the position. He didn’t repeat himself. He didn’t need to.

Of course, she’d tried to be clever. Always wanting to be prepared, always wanting to serve well. She had laid out more than two, setting them neatly within reach. But when Sir said two, he meant two. That lesson would carve itself into her, before the morning was over.

The sound of the office door easing open tightened every muscle in her body. She stayed still, head bowed, body offered, ass high in the air in the exact position he demanded. She didn’t need to look — his presence thundered through the space. That thick, charged energy of his, wrapped around her like a hand at her throat. Without touching her, he already had her.

He came up behind her. For a moment, there was no punishment, no correction. Instead, his lips pressed softly against the curve of her ass — gentle kisses, deliberate, lingering. The tenderness made her tremble, made her ache even more. For a fleeting moment, she was soothed. For a fleeting moment, she could almost believe he might stay soft.

Then, the first blow landed. Sharp, punishing, fire exploding across her flesh. She jolted forward, a gasp ripping from her throat. Another blow followed, harder, sharper. He didn’t need to speak. The lesson was clear: too many toys. His orders were not suggestions.

He continued arriving with every sharp strike. These continued coming, steady and unrelenting, each one, branding his authority into her body. Pain blurred into pleasure, until she sharpness couldn’t separate pain from pleasure. Tears started to well up in her eyes as her cunt grew wetter, dripping down her thighs. He was relentless, and she was nothing but his to use, his to correct, his to break down. .

He shifted while reaching for the slut dildo — thick, unforgiving, designed to split her cunt wide open. He slicked it, pressed it to her cunt, and shoved it inside with fierce force. She screamed, a sound raw and desperate, her cunt clenching around the invasion. He fucked her mercilessly, rhythm hard and fast, until she felt shattered. Orgasms, then followed by one another, her body spasms helplessly, sobs spilling out of her as he drove her past every edge.

But he wasn’t finished. He yanked it free, pressed it against her ass, and pushed. Her body stretched, resisted, yielded as he shoved the dildo deep inside. Her cry turned a scream, then a broken moan as he started fucking her ass with it at the same ruthless pace.

His mouth claimed her again, kissing and biting across her ass cheeks in between each thrust. The sting of his teeth and the heat of his mouth made her squirm, even as he drove the toy harder into her. His hand came down in sharp, punishing slaps, spanking her until her flesh burned beneath the marks of his bites. The combination was Intense — the relentless pounding of the dildo, the ache of his teeth, the sting of his palm — a storm of sensation that left her helpless and gasping.

Over and over, he worked the toy into her, each thrust harder, deeper, until her body convulsed. Her orgasm tore through her raw and messy, ripped free against her will. Tears blurred her vision, her cries filling the room. Still he didn’t stop. Over and over, he used her until she was nothing but wreckage on the office floor.

He then Instructed her upright. “Sit back on it.” She obeyed, sinking down, the toy driving deeper, filling her until she thought she’d split in half. His hand tangled in her hair, yanking her head back until her spine arched painfully. God, when he took her hair like that, she belonged to him completely. He pulled harder, bending her back against him, his lips crashing into hers, devouring her mouth with hungry, possessive kisses.

His mouth moved lower, biting, sucking, marking. Fresh bruises bloomed across her breasts, mirroring the fading ones from before. Now they were doubled, obvious, impossible to hide when she wore anything low cut. His brand. His property.

One of his hands wrapped around her throat, squeezing until her vision blurred. The other kept thrusting that toy into her ass, fucking her without mercy. Her body convulsed, orgasm tearing through her again, leaving her screaming, broken, soaked. She was nothing but his mess — used, owned, obliterated.

At last he shifted. As quickly as he had destroyed her, he turned tender. His lips pressed to her forehead, a kiss so gentle it felt like salvation. Daddy’s kiss. His final command whispered against her skin: Lock the door behind me.

Then he was gone. She was left trembling, dripping, aching, branded inside and out, wrecked and rebuilt all at once. A slut undone by her Sir.

The silence of the office closed in around her, but instead of emptiness, it was peace. The flood of serotonin and dopamine washed through her system, leaving her body heavy and warm. Stress that had coiled tight in her chest all week was gone, burned away in the fire of his use. She curled onto the couch, still marked and sore, sleep quickly turned her into a resting. A deep, unplanned nap stole her away, her body finally surrendered fully — to him, to the moment, to the release she hadn’t even realized she so badly needed.

Copyright © Wynter Rayne 2025