His First Lesson [MF]

He was an educator of sorts. Hundreds of faceless people flocking to him for their menial questions and concerns. And yet, many are never concerned about him, the man behind the knowledge; the blood, sweat, and tears he’s shed despite the cultivated sense of immortality.

She, too, gravitated toward him with a thirst for his knowledge and elected expertise. However, she thirsted for so much more. She sought to know the man. She craved to understand the parts of him that brought him to this place. She wanted to touch the darkness and to be granted witness to his force, his bark, and his bite.

He softened, it seemed, and accepted her advances. Though she wasn’t sure if she was getting too “in over her head.” Perhaps he simply wanted to amuse her for his own mocking pleasures. Either way, she quickly began to feel her submissive crying out for his dominant, her reason for being drawn to him to begin with.

As their dialogue flourished, she became acquainted with how his dominance was an extension of himself. It wasn’t a counterfeit mask he put on to win her over. It came from within, it spoke to the parts of her that yearned for what he had to offer.

Effortless exchanges followed, as they continued to communicate their thoughts. His control over himself morphed into a control over her. His confidence exuded with every single word. Even as his cock stirred and ached, he did not falter. She admitted how his words stimulated her, how she was melting. The simplest and first set of instructions were: “always use the correct words.” She instantly felt aroused in her sex, further still into her stomach as this calm and collected command met her conscience. He was righteous and dignified in his delivery and had a firmness she couldn’t help but bend to.

His first lesson became: you are submissive, I am dominant.

C. Stephens

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/tpwdnr/his_first_lesson_mf