Summary: You come storming into the house after work, ranting about how tonight things are going to be different. You’re done being dominated. Done being controlled. The problem? Sir has been sitting there listening to your entire speech… and he seems to be enjoying it. The longer you talk, the bolder you get, until he starts pointing out every little tell: the pacing, the glances, the way you keep checking to see if he’ll react. By the time you realize he’s been letting you dig your own grave all night, it’s far too late to stop what’s coming.
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