His Submissive Secret

The Cycle.

I went out with my cousin for drinks, thinking it would be a fun, casual night. But the moment we walked in, her eyes went wide, and she leaned in close, whispering, "Don't panic... I think that's Tony at that table."

At the very mention of his name, my body betrayed me. My pussy tingled, my mind flooded with memories of us. I didn't dare look. Instead, I dropped my head like I was checking my phone, pretending not to notice. She sneaked another glance and whispered again, confirming it: definitely him. My face heated, my pussy silently begging.

When our waiter finally seated us, we ended up directly across from him. My cousin spotted someone she knew and wandered off, leaving me alone in his line of vision. The dim restaurant lighting made me glow, and I was desperate for a distraction. I texted back the guy I'd been casually talking to, knowing it wouldn't go anywhere — I just needed to do something.

Then, my phone buzzed. Tony. "You look good, madam." I hearted the message and replied, "Thank you."

"Lick those lips again for me," he shot back.

And there it was — that dominance, that control, the thing I loved so much and hated myself for. Before I could stop myself, my tongue darted across my lower lips. I hadn't made eye contact, and I didn't want to, but I felt his stare as I obeyed.

My cousin came back, and we ordered drinks, laughing and chatting. But my phone buzzed again. Tony. "Your throat looks so deep," he typed. My pussy pulsed, my mouth salivating, and I had to swallow. Tipsy, and unable to resist, I typed back: "Come see."

He replied instantly: "I'll make you throw up everything you've eaten tonight."

And somehow, that made me wetter. I shouldn't be turned on by that. I should be disgusted. But instead, I felt that familiar pull, that need. I teased back: "You want to try?"

He didn't need to ask — he already knew. Of course I replied.

As I hit send, I looked up. He wasn't in his seat anymore. Then I felt it — warm breath on my ear, fanning the back of my neck. "Are you going to taste my kid tonight?" he whispered.

"Yes, sir," I said, simultaneously nodding like the good little submissive I was.

His words sent a shiver straight down my spine. My body was already answering him before my brain could catch up. That's what he did to me — turned me into instinct, into need. I hated that about him. I hated that he could command me with a whisper, with nothing more than his presence.

The restaurant around me faded; the clinking glasses, the laughter, even my cousin's voice blurred into background noise. All I could focus on was him at my back, his breath, the promise behind every filthy word. My pulse was pounding in my ears, my thighs pressing together under the table, desperate for relief.

I knew better. God, I knew better. I had promised myself I wouldn't do this again, that I wouldn't let him pull me back into his orbit. Because with Tony, it was always the same: he gave me everything in the bedroom — the biting, the choking, the roughness that made me feel alive — and then nothing afterward. No care, no softness, no real interest in me.

But my body didn't care about any of that. My pussy was already wet, already begging, and when he whispered, "You're going to be mine again tonight," I didn't protest. I couldn't. Because in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to give in, even if I knew the price I'd pay when the night was over.