Back to Reality.
Back to My Reality
Continuation: After the farm, back in my domain.
Pretoria Central never sleeps. Even at night, the city hums—car alarms, drunk laughter, the sharp crack of distant heels on pavement. But inside my flat, it's different. Inside, the world listens to me.
She was waiting for me—Mitchell—kneeling in the center of the room, naked but for the collar I fastened on her that morning. The same collar she wore all weekend at the farm when no one else was watching. Her skin still bore the fading marks of that time—bite-shaped bruises on her inner thighs, faint rope lines across her wrists. Memories, carved in flesh.
My flat isn't fancy. Just enough space for what matters. A mattress on the floor. Heavy blackout curtains. A drawer full of discipline. But it's mine. My rules. My stage. And tonight, Mitchell was back under my control.
I circled her slowly, boots still on. She kept her head down, breath steady, hands on her thighs just as I'd trained her. She knew not to speak unless I commanded it.
"You miss the farm?" I asked, voice low.
"Yes, Sir," she whispered.
"You miss my belt on your bare ass in the barn?"
Her breath caught. "Yes, Sir."
"You begged like a slut in that hay."
"I am your slut, Sir."
I smiled—she was in the perfect headspace. Soft. Open. Submissive. I leaned in and gripped her hair, tilting her chin up until her eyes met mine.
"Good girl."
Those two words lit a fire in her. I felt it in the way her thighs tensed. She wanted to be used. Owned. Broken, then put back together again.
"On the bed. On your back. Legs open."
She obeyed instantly. No hesitation. That's what I loved about her. I didn't need to ask twice.
I stood above her, watching her squirm. The only thing she wore now was that collar, glowing dimly in the low light of my room. Her body was mine. Every inch of it. Every moan. Every orgasm. Every command she followed made her wetter, needier.
I tied her wrists to the bedframe—tight, but not cruel. I whispered filthy promises in her ear as I blindfolded her, and kissed her neck just hard enough to bruise. Her lips parted. Her breathing grew ragged. She didn't know what I'd do next.
And that was the point.
The weekend at the farm had been intense, yes—but that was playtime. Now, we were back in my city. My flat. My rules.
And I was going to remind her who she truly belonged to.