“You’re such a good boy, especially when it comes to pleasing Pia.” That’s what she likes to tell me, every time our paths cross under the office fluorescent lights. Around the water cooler, at team lunches, accidentally bumping into each other in the break room – her words are always honeyed, dripping with sensuality.

But behind closed doors, the games change. When Pia invites me over, she’s not the sweet office flirt anymore. She’s the dominatrix, and I’m her plaything. She keeps me on a tight leash, both literally and figuratively.

“You’re going to worship me today,” she purrs, shoving me on my knees before her. “Start by kissing my stockings. Work your way up the silky smoothness. Make me feel like a goddess.”

I obey. I always obey Pia. Her legs are long and toned, the sheer midnight black of her stockings reflecting the dim bedroom light. I worship every inch, from her pointed stilettos to her upper thighs, just inches from her most sacred place. She squirms in her seat, her breath coming in short gasps.

“Good boy,” she sighs dreamily. “Now, I want you to jerk yourself off for me. Slowly. Make it last.”

My hands fly to my zipper before she’s even finished the command. I’m already hard and straining against my boxers, desperate for her approval. She likes that about me, my quick obedience, my unwavering desire to please her.

I slide my hand into my pants, wrapping my fingers around my throbbing cock. Slowly, just as she instructed, I begin to stroke. Up and down, up and down, my movements measured and deliberate. Pia watches with hungry eyes, munching on a piece of fresh fruit – she never tells me what kind, wanting me to stay focused on my task.

“That’s it,” she goads, her voice low and seductive. “Imagine it’s my hand on you, stroking you, bringing you closer to the edge. You’re still such a good boy, learning to control yourself, to hold back for my pleasure.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, focusing on the sensations in my member. The way her stockings felt beneath my lips, the sound of her approval ringing in my ears. I can feel myself nearing climax, my skin tightening, my strokes growing more urgent.

“Stop,” Pia commands, her voice sharp. My hand stills immediately, leaving me teetering on the edge. “Now, get dressed and get out. You can finish later, when I allow it. For now, remember your place.”

I scramble to my feet, tucking myself away and straightening my clothes. Pia dismisses me with a flick of her wrist and a single word: “Go.”

I go, of course. Because when Pia tells me what to do, I obey. She’s my goddess, my mistress, my dominatrix. And I’m just her good, obedient boy.