You're in your usual spot—kneeling at the foot of the bed.
You didn't hear the key.You didn't hear the door.But you feel him.
The air shifts.The scent hits first—cologne, airport, him.And then the sound of his voice—soft, rough, real.
"Look at me, BabyGirl."
You turn, breath catching.
And he's there.In the doorway.Bag dropped.Eyes locked on yours.
You crumble.
Not just to your knees—you already were.You crumble into a sob.
He crosses the room in seconds.
Drops to his knees with you.Wraps his arms around your waist.Buries his face in your neck.
You clutch at his back. His shirt. His heartbeat.
"I missed you,"you cry, shaking. "I tried to be good. I slipped once—I'm sorry, Sir—I tried so hard—"
"Shhh,"he whispers, voice breaking.
"I know, sweetheart. I know."
He pulls back just enough to cup your face.
"And I'm so proud of you."
He presses his forehead to yours.
"You remembered who you are.""Even without me here."
"Now come to bed.""Let me show you what obedience earns."
The moment your back hits the sheets, you know—This isn't like before.
This isn't domination. It's devotion.
No cuffs. No commands.Just his hands.His mouth.His weight over you—real, warm, solid.
"You waited for me," he whispers against your collarbone. "Even when it hurt."
Your hands slide into his hair. You nod, eyes wet, breath trembling.
"You slipped?"he murmurs, thumb brushing under your eye. "Touched yourself without permission?"
"Only once, Sir."
He kisses the corner of your mouth.
"Then you'll come once tonight. Just once. That's all you've earned."
You bite your lip. Nod."Yes, Sir."
He kisses you again—slow. Like he's tasting the days he missed. Like he's memorizing you all over again.
And when he finally pushes into you, it's not with force.It's with care.
He holds your face as your legs wrap around his waist.He tells you you're beautiful.Tells you your body still fits him like it always has.
You come undone beneath him—once. Exactly once.And he follows with a low groan, face buried in your neck.
No games. No rules. Just this.Just him, home again.
Morning light creeps into the room.
You wake tangled in sheets, wrapped in his hoodie, the scent of him everywhere.
You stretch, muscles still sore in the best way, and hear his voice before you see him.
"On the floor."
You blink.
He's sitting on the edge of the bed, fully dressed in sweats, holding a mug in one hand and the silk tie in the other.
"You slipped once while I was gone,"he says softly. "That means we start again."
You nod.Slide out of bed.Drop to your knees.
"No punishment,"he adds, standing. "Just retraining."
He steps behind you and gently pulls your wrists behind your back, wrapping the silk. His movements are slow. Loving. Purposeful.
"You'll kneel here for five minutes,"he says, tying the last knot."Eyes forward. Body still. Thoughts quiet."
He sets the timer.Places your tea on the nightstand where you can smell it but not touch it.
And then?
He sits down on the floor across from you.
He doesn't speak.Doesn't touch you.
He just watches.Breath steady. Eyes soft.Present.
The silence stretches.And in it… you feel your mind settle.
Your spine straighten.Your breath sync with his.
And you remember—
Obedience isn't just about pleasure.It's about peace.About knowing who you are when nothing else speaks.
The timer chimes.
He smiles.
"Still mine?" he asks quietly.
You smile back.
"Always, Sir."