I'm the one you're going to kneel to before I even open my mouth. My palm will meet your cheek—sharply, with taste. You won't be offended, you'll ask for more.
I love watching you wear what I chose—lace, silk, shame, which suits you better than a suit. I'm going to make you look in the mirror while my fingers squeeze your balls just enough to make you cry but not say the password.
My strap—on will enter without unnecessary words - slowly, deeply, with pauses where you manage to whisper "thank you." And if you shut up, I'll spit in your mouth to remind you who owns your tongue.
Sometimes I sit on your face and wait for you to start choking. Sometimes I stand over you and allow myself to be dirty — warm things run down your lips, but you don't dare to wipe yourself. Or I lie down on the floor, stretch out my leg, and you lick my fingers like the biggest reward.
Your girlfriend is watching from the couch and smiling. Then I hand her the belt, and you realize that today you will both be mine.
I'm not shouting. I ask in a whisper.: "Do you still remember how to be human?" And then I pull the collar tighter and lead you on all fours to the bed.
Compliant? Yes. But only when you do what you're told.