"I'm Daddy's toy!" The words ripped out, confession and plea and surrender all at once.
"Good girl." He stood, and I watched him adjust himself through expensive slacks. "Such a good girl. Come here."
He'd moved to the chair, thighs spread in clear invitation. I crawled to him, past pride, past shame, the dress riding up to show the cotton panties that were already soaked through.
"Up." He patted his thigh. "You've earned your reward."
I straddled his thigh, dress bunched around my waist, nothing but thin cotton between me and the expensive fabric of his slacks. The position put us face to face, though I had to look up to meet his eyes.
"Move," he instructed. "Take what you need."
"I don't—"
"Yes, you do." His hands found my hips, guiding me into rhythm. "You've done this before. In your bed at night, grinding against pillows while you thought of my voice. Show me."
Humiliation burned through me, but my body obeyed. Started rocking against his thigh, the friction exactly what I'd been craving. The music continued its swell, and he watched me with those analytical eyes that missed nothing.
"Tell me what you are."
"I'm Daddy's toy." The words came easier with pleasure building.
"What do you want?"
"To be good. To please you. To—" I gasped as he flexed his thigh, changing the angle. "To come. Please."
"Not yet." His hands controlled my movement, speeding up then slowing down. "Tell me about isolation. The truth this time."
"I touched myself." The confession spilled out between gasps. "Every night. Sometimes more. Thinking about you."
"About what specifically?"
"Your voice. Your hands. The way you—" He pressed up as I ground down, and stars exploded behind my eyes. "The way you look at me."
"How do I look at you?"
"Like I'm fascinating. Like I'm yours. Like you want to take me apart and see how I work."
"I do." He leaned forward, lips brushing my ear. "Want to know every response. Every sound. Every way you break and rebuild. My perfect little problem."
"Gabriel—"
"Doctor," he corrected, but gently. "Stay in the scene, baby. Be good for me."
"Doctor." My movements grew frantic, chasing release that stayed just out of reach. "Please. I need—"
"Say it again. All of it."
"I'm Daddy's toy." The words poured out, shame transformed into fuel. "I belong here. I need structure. I want to be good."
"Beautiful." His hands tightened, holding me still when I was right on the edge. "One more thing. Tell me you're mine."
"I'm yours." No hesitation now. "Yours to train. Yours to break. Yours to put back together."
"Come."
The permission hit like lightning. I convulsed against his thigh, grinding desperately as waves of pleasure crashed through me. He held me steady, whispering praise I only half heard through the roar in my ears.
But he didn't let me stop.
