Author’s Note: As strongly suggested by the clever title, this story is a prelude to The Instructress.
1.
Dominique checked her watch for what felt like the fifteenth time: she’d been waiting outside her office for five minutes, but she didn’t want to seem in a rush. She was the store manager, after all, and the woman she was interviewing was a few years older, and—Dominique had glimpsed her when she came in—she was poised and stunning.
Compared to Kalista, Dominique felt like a college student. That she was, also, still a college student didn’t detract from her responsibilities as manager of Sweat Shop, though, and this morning she was here to interview a sales associate. That was all. She didn’t need to feel intimidated.
But Kalista was intimidating. She was obviously fit, sat up straight in her trim blazer and easily answered all of ‘Nique’s questions. Her eyes were piercing and haughty, rather than friendly, but she had a wry sense of humour and knew fitness gear down to the ground. She was working on someday becoming a professional trainer, she said, and the education wasn’t cheap. Sweat Shop was conveniently located for her, offered the flexible shifts, pay, and benefits she wanted, and—Kalista said, leaning forward conspiratorially—she was excited to have the store discount.
By the end of the interview, Dominique wasn’t sure she quite liked Kalista. She seemed a bit… bossy and overbearing. But maybe not everyone had ‘Nique’s personality. Kalista was certainly competent and seemed like she’d be reliable, and that was hard enough to find in retail. Except for Jenny, the assistant manager who’d been at the store even longer than ‘Nique had, Sweat Shop was a bit of a lonely place. Dominique wanted a good associate. She hired Kalista.
After a couple weeks, Kalista had proven herself an adequate employee. Retail was obviously not her passion, Dominique could see, but she was charming around customers and knew the products. She was obviously an athlete, and that counted in a store where people made a lot of aspirational purchases; “If I buy these shorts, maybe I can be like her,” was, after all, the way Sweat Shop’s brands marketed themselves.
And Dominique had to admit Kalista could walk that walk. She couldn’t stop admiring Kalista’s body as she moved around the store. ‘Nique tried to keep her attraction under wraps when she found an employee particularly hot; she was a manager, after all. Aside from the inappropriate power dynamics, she preferred to keep work and romantic life separate, so the little thrill she got contemplating how graceful and muscular Kalista was—how it seemed like she was born to wear the tight, sporty Sweat Shop uniform—stressed Dominique out as much as it excited her.
Despite this, or maybe because of it, when ‘Nique found Kalista lacing up a new pair of runners at lunchtime one day, she impulsively said, “Can I join you?”
Kalista looked up at her with a searching expression in her dark eyes, but quickly smiled. “Of course, ‘Nique. I was just going for a quick lap around the mall.”
Dominique quickly changed into workout clothes and joined Kalista on the sidewalk. “You’re a runner, aren’t you, boss?” Kalista asked. She’d noticed ‘Nique’s well-worn shoes, and maybe her slim figure told Kalista her manager didn’t pump iron the way she did.
Dominique nodded. “Yup, did my third marathon last summer. Training for an ultra next year, believe it or not.”
“I believe it!” Kalista smiled. It put butterflies in ‘Nique’s stomach. “I only really do enough to get my cardio in, you know? Do you mind if I set the pace?”
Dominique agreed. Kalista actually set a pace a little faster than ‘Nique usually ran; the lifter wanted her heart rate up in the cardio zone, while Dominique, a distance runner, usually paced herself for the miles. But this was just a casual lunch run and she could easily keep up. And, after a couple blocks, Dominique had to admit she was enjoying the setup. The sight of Kalista’s body from behind was a lot of fun to watch: her powerful legs flexing, her sculpted glutes rocking back and forth like a metronome. Much more engaging scenery than on ‘Nique’s average run around the mall. While she chided herself for her attraction when they were on the clock, running was different somehow, and ‘Nique just let herself zone out and follow Kalista’s perfect ass while she kept pace. It was easy, and low-key hot, and somehow she knew her employee didn’t mind being admired.
Indeed, Kalista first noticed her boss was staring a half-mile into the run. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Dominique floating along in a sort of trance. Not uncommon for a focused runner, of course, but ‘Nique was so obviously fixated on Kalista’s butt and the backs of her smooth, muscular thighs. Kalista giggled to herself, wondering what she’d discovered here. She slowed her pace a little, letting her hips fall into a slightly more exaggerated sway. She heard ‘Nique stumble, just slightly, as she tried to adjust. When Kalista looked back again, Dominique looked a little flushed… but was still totally absorbed in Kalista’s body.
As they continued the run, Kalista’s heart rate rose—and not just because of the cardio. It seemed like her pretty young manager had more than a mere runner’s high. And she wondered what she might do with that.
Dominique felt… weird.
Not in a bad way. Not exactly. But something had shifted.
After the run, she’d returned to the store with flushed cheeks and a floaty, lightheaded feeling that didn’t fade the way it usually did post-workout. She’d barely changed out of her running clothes before realizing Kalista had already slipped back onto the floor and was chatting with a customer, casually leaning against a display of leggings like she owned the place.
Dominique didn’t say anything. She just watched for a moment. Kalista’s voice was low and confident, her laughter easy. When she caught Dominique’s eye, she smiled—not sweetly, but knowingly. As if they shared a secret. As if she’d noticed ‘Nique gawking at her.
After that run, Dominique found herself slipping where Kalista was concerned.
She stopped reminding Kalista about clocking in. She let her take her breaks whenever she wanted. When Jenny, the assistant manager, raised an eyebrow about Kalista changing a front-of-store display without asking, Dominique brushed it off. “It looks good,” she said. “She has a good eye.”
She started inviting Kalista along to small, casual things. Post-work coffees. Sharing an Uber home. A group class at the yoga studio down the street. Kalista didn’t always say yes. But when she did, Dominique’s heart leaped. She couldn’t deny it: she had a crush.
Kalista noticed, of course. She noticed how her manager—her boss—started deferring to her, started seeking her out. She noticed how often Dominique’s gaze drifted downward, how often her fingers hesitated in the air near Kalista’s arm, her waist, her shoulder. Touches that didn’t quite happen—until Kalista made them happen.
A stretch behind the counter. Brushing past her in the stockroom. Kalista touched Dominique’s hand lightly when passing a hanger. Tucked a stray hair behind her ear one morning when they were opening the store together. Just soft enough to pass for affection. Just firm enough to teach Dominique something.
“You push yourself too hard, Domi.”
Dominique blinked. “What?” She’d been showing Kalista how she balanced the store’s books. The remark came out of nowhere. And no one ever called her ‘Domi’.
Kalista smiled. “You’re always trying to do everything perfectly. I admire it. But you don’t have to be in charge all the time, you know. Not with me.”
Dominique opened her mouth to respond, but Kalista had already turned her attention back to the laptop screen, asking about shrinkage calculation. Dominique could only stand there, her thoughts tangled and warm.
Later that week, Kalista truly tested her.
They were restocking a new shipment of tennis outfits; folding, tagging, and organizing by size. Dominique was arranging a pile on the table by the fitting rooms when Kalista came up behind her, holding a top in the same brand.
“Try this on,” Kalista said.
Dominique hesitated. “What? Now?”
Kalista smiled. “You’ve been eyeing this set all week. You’ll look hot in it.”
“I don’t even play tennis,” Dominique said, with a shy smile. But Kalista cajoled her into the changing room. She slipped behind the curtain and emerged a minute later, looking herself over in the mirror. The fabric hugged her figure, every curve on display.
Kalista stepped up behind her and tilted her head, considering the reflection.
“You look good,” she murmured. “Turn a little.”
Dominique turned.
“More.”
She turned more.
Kalista stepped closer until her presence was a warmth at Dominique’s back. Her voice was smoky.
“Do you like posing for me?”
Dominique didn’t reply. She just stared at the mirror. At Kalista. At herself. Everything felt quiet. Like she’d sunk into warm water. Like speaking would only break the spell. ‘Nique’s heart was racing, excited by Kalista’s closeness. And by how badly she wanted to answer, “Yes.”
The mirror caught everything. Dominique stood in front of it in the classic white tennis outfit Kalista had handed her. The fit was snug—flattering, if she was being honest. Maybe too flattering. She’d always thought women’s tennis gear was a little… fetishy. Those tight blouses and tiny pleated skirts, everything in gleaming white.
She tried to keep her expression neutral as she turned one way, then the other. She was proud of her body—she worked hard for it—but Kalista watching made her nervous in a way she couldn’t explain. Like she wasn’t just being seen, but inspected.
Kalista stepped closer. Their reflections filled the mirror now—Dominique in front, Kalista behind. The contrast was striking. Dominique’s build was slim, toned like a runner. Kalista was thicker, stronger, her arms and legs carved from muscle, her core tight, her chest high, her ass—
Dominique swallowed, remembering their run.
Kalista tilted her head, her voice casual. “I told you that set would be perfect for you.”
Dominique tried to chuckle, but it came out awkward, breathless. “Yeah, it’s… not bad.”
“Arch your back,” Kalista said, her voice playful.
Dominique turned to look at her, eyes wide. “What?”
Kalista put her hands gently on Dominique’s arms, turning her back around. “I said that set looks perfect. You look great in it.”
“You said—”
“You should show off a little! Arch your back.”
This time, Dominique did. Automatically. Without thinking. In the mirror, she could see Kalista’s eyes focus on her chest. She blushed.
“Good girl,” Kalista murmured.
Dominique froze. The words made her knees weaken.
Kalista met her eyes in the mirror, that wry smirk playing at her lips. “Relax, Domi. Don’t think so much. You did just what I told you.”
Dominique’s breath caught.
“You think I haven’t noticed?” Kalista said, voice low, intimate. “The way you look at me? How flustered you get when I’m close?” She leaned in, her breath brushing Dominique’s ear. “You stare when I stretch. When I bend over. On that run the other day, you could barely focus on the sidewalk.”
“I—” Dominique tried, but her mouth had gone dry.
Kalista’s fingers grazed up Dominique’s side, skimming over the fabric. “You like looking at me,” she whispered. “And I like being looked at. You don’t have to hide it.”
Dominique’s chest rose and fell, heart hammering.
“Just watch,” Kalista said softly, her hands gliding to her own hips. She met Dominique’s gaze in the mirror and began to move—slow, sensual, a controlled roll of her hips, a sway that made her curves dance. She spun around slowly, shifted her weight, made her glutes clench and release beneath the thin fabric of her leggings. Giving Dominique the exact show she’d been craving since their run.
Dominique couldn’t look away. Her lips parted, eyes wide. Her body was rigid with arousal.
Kalista came close and put her arms around her, slow and smooth. “You feel it, don’t you?” she whispered. “Right here.” One hand slid down Dominique’s belly, hovering just above her waistband.
Dominique whimpered.
“I want you to burn for me,” Kalista breathed. “See my body every time you close your eyes. Every time… you touch yourself.”
“K-Kalista…” Dominique wanted to protest. But living out this sexual fantasy was too confusing.
Kalista reached up, threading her fingers through Dominique’s hair, gently tipping her head to make her look directly at the mirror. Their eyes met again—Dominique’s wide and dazed, Kalista’s sharp, steady, in control.
“You don’t need to think about it,” Kalista said, her voice a slow drip of honey. “You don’t need to decide. Just follow my lead. You can do that, can’t you, little Domi?”
Dominique nodded—barely aware she had.
Kalista leaned in, brushing her lips just behind Dominique’s ear. “Good girl,” she purred again. “Now… show me how obedient you can be.”
Kalista guided her into the changing room. Her body moved on autopilot, her mind still coming to grips with what was happening—and filled with Kalista’s sway, her voice, that whispered ache she’d named like she owned it.
The heavy curtain slithered shut behind them, muffling the sounds of the store beyond.
Kalista didn’t speak right away. She leaned back against the wall, arms crossed under her chest, watching. Dominating the tiny space.
Dominique stood there, awkward in her own skin, suddenly so aware of how tight the tennis outfit was, how damp her underwear had become. Her thighs pressed together involuntarily.
“You liked all that out there,” Kalista said softly, confidently.
Dominique opened her mouth, hesitated. “I… I don’t know what—”
Kalista stepped forward. One step. Two. No rush. No hesitation.
Dominique backed up instinctively—until the bench pressed against her calves. She sank down without meaning to, needing to breathe, to think.
Kalista stood over her, tall and composed, the curves of her body perfectly outlined in her uniform workout set. Her hand rested casually on her hip.
“You do know,” Kalista said. “And I know. I know exactly what you’re thinking about doing right now.”
Dominique’s heart pounded. “Kalista…”
That smirk again. “You’re trying so hard to be good, aren’t you?” she purred. “Professional. In control. Managerial.”
Kalista reached down, fingers lifting the hem of her top just enough to reveal her bare stomach—tight, tanned. Her abs rippled faintly with the motion. “But your eyes tell me the truth. Is this what you think about when you’re alone?”
Dominique’s breath shuddered.
Kalista stepped in closer, mere inches away from her now. “I think,” she whispered, “you’ve been waiting for someone who could make you submit.”
Dominique’s lips trembled. She shook her head slightly, without conviction. Her eyes were locked on Kalista’s body. On her thighs. Her stomach. Her breasts rising and falling in that snug top.
“Look at you,” Kalista murmured. “Already on your knees for me.”
Dominique flushed. She was sitting, not kneeling—but Kalista was standing, and from this angle the difference was academic. Dominique’s eyes were exactly where Kalista wanted them. Trapped.
Kalista reached down and cupped Dominique’s chin, tilting her head back until their eyes met again. Her thumb stroked slowly along Dominique’s lips. “You don’t have to think anymore, Domi. You don’t have to manage.”
She leaned down. “You have to surrender.”
Dominique let out the faintest moan. Her thighs clenched.
Kalista smiled. She swayed her hips as she slowly took her top off.
Dominique stared, stunned. Her hands trembled in her lap. Was this really happening? A striptease in the changing room, when they were both supposed to be working?
Kalista’s voice softened, but it was no less commanding. “You need to see me, don’t you?” She leaned down, her mouth near Dominique’s ear. “Feel me. Burn for me.”
Dominique’s hands lifted—hesitant, reverent—and touched Kalista’s chest. Her skin was flawless, warm, divine. Her sports bra did little to contain her.
“I want this burned into your memory,” Kalista said, her tone low and intimate. “My every curve. The feel of my skin. Every inch you ache for.”
Dominique nodded, dazed.
“Worship me with your eyes,” Kalista whispered. “Fall deeper. Don’t stop.”
And Dominique… obeyed. She stared. Devoured Kalista with her gaze. Her lips parted, breathing ragged, every nerve focused on the woman in front of her—powerful, perfect, in control.
Kalista smiled. A slow, indulgent smile. Yes. This poor, pretty thing was almost hers.
Just a few more steps.
Dominique lay in bed, one arm slung over her eyes, the sheets twisted around her legs. She was sweating again—and not from any workout. She groaned softly and shifted, thighs brushing together, her body flushed with heat. It was nearly midnight and she wasn’t even close to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, it came rushing back. The mirror. The changing room. Kalista’s voice in her ear. Kalista’s body looming, enchanting, overpowering.
Dominique bit her lip and turned over. She buried her face in the pillow, trying to block out the thoughts. It didn’t work.
God, what was she doing?
Kalista was her employee. A new hire. Someone she was supposed to be training, managing, coaching through the damn store procedures—not… not fantasizing about kneeling in the changing room and burying her face between her thighs.
Those thighs! She could just imagine how they’d feel pressed tight around her head, while she ate Kalista’s pussy. Dominique let out a sound—half moan, half groan. “Fuck…”
Kalista hadn’t even touched her. That was the worst part. She had stood there like a goddess, with her full breasts practically spilling out of that tight bra, her abs flexing with every breath. She’d leaned in so close. Her scent, her heat—it had been dizzying. ‘Nique wished she’d just fucked her right there on the bench.
No, she didn’t. Yes, she did. But Kalista hadn’t even touched her, and hadn’t let Dominique do more than stroke her chest and her stomach, feel how impossibly defined her abs were.
Kalista was such a tease. But, no, it hadn’t been a tease—it had been control. An invisible leash slipped around her throat, and now she couldn’t stop imagining it. Putting her lips on Kalista’s stomach. Her tongue tracing the sweat-slick lines of her abs. Her hands sliding down those powerful thighs, gripping that ass tight as she kissed lower, and lower, and—
Dominique whimpered and pressed her legs together again, pulling her hand away from her aching cunt. She could practically feel Kalista’s skin. The fantasy was so vivid now, her body responded before her brain could think. But she couldn’t let herself masturbate to Kalista. That was a bridge too far.
A bridge too far. Dominique wondered if crossing it was anything less than inevitable.
How had Kalista known Dominique would react to her like this? That she could make her manager feel so… submissive? But somehow she had known, had seen it in ‘Nique’s eyes, or—oh God—smelled it on her, and that mastery just turned Dominique on even more. Made her juice even harder.
She rolled onto her back, the sheets tangled, one hand drifting down below her stomach—hovering, unsure.
No. She shouldn’t.
She really, really shouldn’t.
But she was so wet. So needy. Her nipples ached against the fabric of her tank top. Her skin felt electric, every inch attuned to memories of Kalista’s gaze, Kalista’s voice, Kalista’s perfect body just out of reach.
It would be just this once, she told herself, as her fingers slipped under the waistband of her sleep shorts.
She closed her eyes, and the image bloomed instantly behind them: Kalista standing over her, pulling off her sports bra slowly, sensually. Her breasts were heavy, perfect. Her voice was a purr.
“I want this burned into your memory.”
Dominique gasped, her hips rising.
“Every inch of my body burned into your brain.”
It was certainly burned in now. Branded on her core. Her body begged her to keep going. She imagined Kalista’s name tattooed just above her pussy. As her fingers moved faster, slick with need, she whispered that name like a prayer. Pleading. Begging Kalista. Begging her for what?
Kalista hadn’t even touched her yet.
Dominique’s fingers moved faster, desperate circles, her other hand clenching the sheets. She tried to keep quiet, biting her lip hard, but her breath was shaky, uneven, ragged. Her body was electric, her mind plunged deep, deep, deeper into the fantasy.
She imagined Kalista hadn’t walked away after peeling off her top. Oh, no. She stayed there—smirking, superior—and pulled off her sports bra. Dominique imagined her breasts bouncing free, heavy and natural, nipples dark and stiff. Her skin would taste like salt and heat, like power. Dominique would’ve put her face anywhere Kalista told her. Would’ve kissed and sucked and lost herself.
But Kalista wouldn’t let her—not yet.
“Patience, Domi,” Kalista murmured in her mind, voice low and so sweet, savouring the girlish nickname. “You’re not here to take. You’re here to give. Give me everything. Worship me.”
Dominique moaned softly into her pillow, her hips rocking upward to meet her hand. “Yes, Kalista,” she swore she didn’t say out loud.
In her head, Kalista peeled her leggings down her hips—slowly, teasingly. Her thighs flexed as she stepped out of them. Dominique watched, helpless, drooling, knees weak even in fantasy.
Oh, God. That ass.
Dominique had stared before, sure. During the run. At work. Whenever Kalista bent down to pick up a box or reach a lower shelf. But never like this. Never so close.
In her fantasy, Kalista turned and tilted until her thighs framed Dominique’s face—thick and powerful and glistening with sweat, muscles humming with life. That perfect, sculpted ass right there, so close Dominique could kiss her.
Kalista looked down over her shoulder with that smirk.
“Is this what you needed, baby?”
Dominique’s fingers moved faster. She arched, chasing the edge.
“You love it, don’t you?” Kalista teased. “Being down there. So close. So desperate. Like a good little slut. Slut for me. Slut for my ass. My ass slut.”
In her mind, Dominique nodded fervently. She was desperate. A desperate slut. She would’ve done anything, anything, to lick and kiss and taste her. She imagined leaning in, finally closing that last inch of space, her tongue pressing between Kalista’s thighs, the way Kalista might gasp and grind down, taking what she wanted while Dominique—
Dominique cried out, muffling it with the pillow as pleasure surged through her, white-hot and overwhelming. Her body trembled with release, thighs squeezing tight around her hand, mind reeling from the force of it. Her toes curled and her breath caught. The wave of her orgasm crested and rolled away, leaving her crushed and quivering.
But the image didn’t fade. Kalista was still there. Standing over her in triumph. Still smirking. Still in control. Even in her own bed, Dominique couldn’t escape.
In the back of her mind—past the guilt, past the heat—something deeper stirred. A truth. Dominique didn’t want to admit it, but she had no choice.
She didn’t want to escape. This was where she belonged.
2.
The late-night fantasies were not conducive to excellent customer service.
‘Nique stood behind the front counter at Sweat Shop the next morning, staring blankly at the point of sale monitor. She was holding a shoebox, and the woman on the other side of the counter had just asked something about the sale price.
Dominique couldn’t remember what the question had been.
“Miss? Miss?” the woman chirped, increasingly impatient.
Dominique’s eyes were heavy. Her legs ached. And between her legs—well. She still felt tender. Sensitive. Her body hadn’t quite recovered from what she’d done to herself last night. What Kalista had made her do, without even touching her.
Just thinking about it made her squirm in place.
“Miss, what is the matter? Are you even listening?!”
She wasn’t proud of it. She was supposed to be in charge. She was the manager. Kalista was a new employee. A slightly overconfident, stunningly attractive, effortlessly dominant employee…
Dominique’s thoughts flickered back to the changing room. The way Kalista had stepped into her space. The way she hadn’t needed to say much—just existed in front of her, bold and unashamed—and Dominique had all but knelt in submission. She’d gone home wet, aching. Came so hard she almost passed out, woke up still thinking about it.
A rustle behind her broke her trance. Kalista?
No, it was Jenny, stepping in to answer the customer’s question before the woman went into full-scale meltdown. ‘Nique let her take over, grateful, barely heard Jenny soothing the customer with an explanation that her manager had just gotten some bad news and needed to take a break. She drifted to the back of the store; she just needed to be alone for a minute, let her head clear.
But she ran into Kalista instead.
Kalista made the company uniform look great, as always: black leggings hugged her glutes like a second skin, a dusty rose tank top left her arms and most of her back bare. She stood on tiptoe to grab a shoebox off the top shelf and her back arched just so. Her thighs spread slightly for balance. That ass lifted into the air, and Dominique briefly stopped breathing.
Kalista glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “Morning, boss,” she said casually.
“Morning,” Dominique croaked, trying not to sound like her throat had just dried into dust. Could she really not get a minute to herself?
Kalista followed her into the break room. “You sleep okay?”
Dominique blinked. Was she asking about…? No. She wasn’t a telepath, couldn’t know about ‘Nique’s fantasies. “Uh, yeah. Fine.”
Kalista’s smile was too mischievous. Maybe she was a telepath.
“I was thinking,” she said lightly, “we should do another run at lunch.”
Dominique stiffened. “Oh. I—I don’t know. I have a lot of stuff to—”
Kalista turned around and stretched, bending low, as though preparing her hamstrings for the run. It wasn’t the most shameless way to show off her ass to Dominique, but it was close.
Dominique stared, unable to look away.
“You seem kind of tired, Domi. Spacey. A good hard run will clear your head.”
She knew she shouldn’t. Knew it would just strengthen Kalista’s hold on her. But the moment that round, perfect ass flexed, her mind emptied. Everything else dropped away. She started nodding despite herself.
Kalista seemed to know her body had done its job. “Meet me at the staff entrance,” she said as she left the room, “at five to noon.”
It was an order. Dominique managed to wait until she was alone in the break room before she let herself whisper, “Yes, Mistress,” just to feel the embarrassing thrill of it.
The noon heat shimmered off the sidewalk as they ran, Kalista setting the pace once again. Dominique followed. With every stride, her thoughts blurred more. Her body moved automatically, her eyes locked on the rhythmic motion of Kalista’s hips, Kalista’s ass rising and falling with every step. Her perfect tempo was so hypnotic.
Dominique followed, slavishly.
There was only Kalista. The bounce of her hair. The roll of her shoulders. The sheen of sweat on the backs of her thighs. Dominique couldn’t look away, couldn’t think. She could only run and watch and ache.
By the second mile, her body and brain sank into a blissful buzz of submission. She couldn’t feel her own rhythm anymore—only Kalista’s.
Kalista slowed. Dominique’s pace adjusted without conscious thought.
Kalista picked it up again. Dominique mindlessly mirrored her.
Kalista was training her. ‘Nique knew it. Somewhere inside her, the manager still existed. It struggled to see Kalista as colleague, employee, and not Perfect Goddess, Deserving of Worship. That voice was faint and fading with each step.
Their pace slowed as they neared the back alley behind the store—the private path they liked to take to cool down after a run. It was quiet back there, behind the mall. You just had to dodge the occasional delivery truck.
Dominique was flushed and breathless, drenched in sweat, and more than a little dazed. Her head was light, her body sore, her skin buzzing with arousal from being too close to Kalista for too long. It had never buzzed quite like that for anyone else.
Kalista stopped, stretching lazily beside the high steel platform of the delivery dock. Dominique halted too, bending forward with her hands on her knees, panting hard.
“That was a hard run!” Kalista said. “You kept up like a good girl.”
Dominique froze. The praise hit her like a drug. Her knees wobbled. Her core throbbed.
“Th—Thank you.”
Kalista stepped closer and casually rested her hand on Dominique’s lower back—possessive, warm. “You’re getting so good at following my lead,” she murmured, rubbing slow circles through the sweat-soaked fabric.
Dominique’s breath caught again. “I—I was just—keeping up,” she managed.
“No, Domi,” Kalista said, voice gentle but firm. “You were falling in line. I love how naturally you do it.” She leaned in, her mouth so close to Dominique’s ear that her breath sent shivers down her spine. “I can see you submitting to my body. I can see you don’t want it to stop.”
Dominique whimpered. Her cheeks were hot. She couldn’t admit how true it was.
Kalista smiled like a cat toying with its prey. “I want you to remember something, little Domi.”
Dominique blinked up at her, dazed. “What?”
Kalista’s voice was low and slow and dangerous. Her lips touched ‘Nique’s earlobe. “Next time you catch yourself staring at my ass…” She ran her fingers lightly down her manager’s spine. “…I want you to picture yourself kneeling for it.”
Dominique swallowed hard.
“You don’t have to actually get on your knees,” Kalista added, as if that made it reasonable. “Not yet. I just want the image in your mind. Every time you look at me like that—imagine.”
Kneeling.
Looking up.
Begging.
Dominique could already see herself doing it, right here, right now, in the alley. Among the cube trucks, kneeling on the grimy concrete, begging Kalista for permission to rub her needy cunt. Give all the drivers a show as they ate lunch in the cabs of their trucks. It made her feel so pathetic, so out of control, so… under Kalista’s control. She wished she could actually do it.
Kalista pulled back, her tone lightening like nothing had happened. “C’mon, boss,” she said, wiping her brow. “We should hit the showers before Jenny gets too lonely.”
And just like that, she turned and started walking toward the store. Dominique followed in an exhausted, horny daze, fantasizing about eating her employee out in the shower.
Dominique tried to act normal when they got back to work. But she could still feel Kalista’s fingers on her back, hear her words in her head. Her body, tired from the run and showered clean, was throbbing with heat.
Jenny’s eyes flicked between them. Her gaze sharpened.
“You two enjoy your run?”
Kalista smiled. “Just a quick one. Needed to stretch the legs.”
Jenny didn’t smile back. “Mm-hmm. Guess I’ll take my lunch break now.”
Dominique felt her stomach twist as Kalista took over at the till. Jenny was the last person she wanted noticing anything.
But Kalista didn’t care. She just bent to grab the shaker bottle she’d left on a low shelf behind the cash station. She was giving Dominique another perfect view of her ass—knowing she was watching. As Dominique’s eyes locked on, fear of her assistant manager’s suspicions faded away. Her brain flooded with the image:
Kneeling for Kalista. Looking up. Begging to serve.
She flushed, staggered slightly, and made herself scarce among the clothing racks. She prayed neither Jenny nor Kalista could tell how obsessed she was… but knew the odds didn’t look good.
Just before closing, Dominique was in the stockroom, trying to think about counting inventory after catching another glimpse of Kalista adjusting her uniform at the till. Her thighs still ached from the run. Her panties were damp—again. And her thoughts were spiralling.
“Dominique.” Jenny was behind her. The assistant manager’s voice was sharp, low. Serious.
She turned, trying to play it cool. “What’s up?”
Jenny crossed her arms. “We need to talk about Kalista.”
‘Nique’s stomach dropped. She straightened up, instantly defensive. “Why?”
“Because she’s not just an employee anymore, is she? Not to you. Don’t pretend she is.”
Dominique flushed. “Jenn, come on.”
“I’ve worked with you for three years, ‘Nique. You don’t act like this. Jumpy, distracted. She walks past you and you stare like a fucking teenager.”
Dominique opened her mouth, closed it. “You’re overreacting.”
Jenny stepped closer. “You’re not thinking straight. I’ve seen her. She walks around like she owns the place. Changes displays without asking. Takes her breaks whenever she wants. You don’t say a word!”
Dominique’s throat tightened. She couldn’t explain it. She knew Jenny was right. But she couldn’t help herself.
“She’s just confident,” Dominique said, without conviction. “And she’s good with customers. I hired her for a reason.”
Jenny scoffed. “I can guess the reason.” Then, gentler, “She’s messing with your head, ‘Nique.”
Dominique looked away. “I’m fine.”
Jenny sighed. “Look. I’m not trying to be a bitch, I’m trying to protect you. You know this is getting inappropriate. But I think she’s… manipulating you. You’re letting her get away with things that would’ve had anyone else written up.”
Dominique didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Her hands were shaking.
Jenny leaned in. “If you don’t do something, I will.”
That got her attention. She put her hands on her hips, squared her shoulders. “What does that mean?”
“It means I’ll talk to her myself. Or message HR if I have to. I won’t sit back and watch you get used.”
Dominique suddenly found it hard to breathe—panic bloomed in her chest. Beneath it, something else stirred. Fear, yes. But also heat. The thought of being exposed, caught—of having to admit just how far she’d fallen, of how Kalista turned her into such a pathetic slut with nothing but her perfect body—sent a wicked thrill down her spine.
“Think real hard about this, ‘Nique. Please?” Jenny put a hand on her arm. “I don’t want to watch you fuck up your career.”
Jenny found a different row of boxes and started scanning them, giving Dominique space. ‘Nique leaned against the wall, shaking, her heart racing.
That evening, Dominique lay in bed, doomscrolling, telling herself for maybe the fiftieth time she wouldn’t contact Kalista.
A part of her knew she was just waiting to come up with the right pretence.
“Tweaking the schedule rn,” she typed, “what’s your availability like this weekend?”
The sound of the message sending gave her a guilty little thrill. She imagined Kalista seeing it pop up, knowing it was a flimsy excuse to beg for her attention, and smiling indulgently.
Ugh. She loved and hated how desperate that felt. Maybe she should un-send the message…
The “read” indicator filled in. Too late.
Came Kalista’s reply: “Available for work, or…?”
Dominique barked an embarrassed laugh, even though she was alone in her room. Kalista was incorrigible. She typed back, “lol…” but then found herself typing, “Jenny was warning me about you today, you know.”
Fuck, that was a stupid thing to share. She really shouldn’t—but Kalista had already read the message, was typing a reply.
“Good girl for telling me.”
The praise made Dominique flush with arousal. Arousal mixed with a growing sense of dread.
“Does she think you’re acting like a stupid slut around me or something?”
Dominique’s breath quickened.
“lol something like that I guess,” she replied, and found she was holding her breath as Kalista’s typing indicator patiently blinked.
“ARE you a stupid slut for me, Domi?”
She should really, really stop this. Flush her phone down the toilet. Move to a new city. Doing this with Kalista was such a bad idea.
“yes Kalista,” she typed. The sound of the message going through sent another shiver through her body. She imagined kneeling at Kalista’s feet, unable to look up and meet her gaze. Not permitted to.
“Good girl,” came the response.
Then, “Good girls get a little present.”
A photo appeared. Smooth skin, slight sheen of sweat, maybe taken just after a workout. The small of Kalista’s back at the top of the frame. The tops of Kalista’s thighs, spread, at the bottom. Kalista’s big, flawless ass was in between them.
“Jesus Christ,” ‘Nique whispered to herself. Her free hand slid between her legs without her even thinking.
Somehow, Kalista expected her. Another message:
“You can look but can’t touch. Worship me with your eyes and wish I was there.”
Then, “Don’t touch yourself, either, slut. No touching tonight at all. Think you can handle that?”
Dominique whimpered. She stared longingly at Kalista’s photo. Denied at a distance? This wasn’t fair at all. Letting Kalista do this to her made her feel so pathetic. Pathetic and controlled. It was hotter than anything. Reluctantly, she pulled her hand from between her thighs. Before she shoved it under her pillow, she sent her response.
“Yes, Kalista. I will obey.”
Sleepless hours later, Dominique lay flat on her back, staring at the ceiling like it might offer mercy.
She’d gotten the sheets twisted around her legs. Her tank top stuck to her skin with sweat. Her pussy ached and dripped, betraying her. She hadn’t touched herself.
She hadn’t touched herself. Not once. She was doing what she was told.
Even now, with her body screaming, with her breath ragged and Kalista’s message replaying over and over in her mind—
“Don’t touch yourself, either, slut. No touching tonight at all. Think you can handle that?”
Dominique obeyed. She had no choice. Or, anyway, she didn’t want to have a choice.
She tried not to dwell on it as the night crawled by, but what kind of person obeyed her employee? What kind of manager sat up straighter at work because Kalista walked by? What kind of woman surrendered her dignity like that?
Whatever kind, she was it. She’d never fallen in lust with someone this hard before. Never knew it was possible to fall for someone this hard.
She was so wet. Soaking wet. And starving for Kalista’s attention. Her approval. Her body. She kept looking at that photo, Kalista’s gift. Her torture device. ‘Nique thought of deleting it, but the thought was laughable.
She rolled onto her side, one hand buried under the pillow, the other trapped uselessly beneath her breast, aching to drift lower. But it didn’t. She couldn’t.
Kalista had said no. Had called her a good girl. And a stupid slut…
Her mind flickered back to the changing room. To the mirror. To their runs around the mall. Kalista’s ass, swaying back and forth, like a hypnotist’s pendant.
Like a leash she’d never seen coming, now wrapped around her will.
She squeezed her thighs together and whimpered. “Fuck…”
The images bloomed in her mind, unstoppable:
Kalista straddling her, just out of reach—smiling, cruel. Using her, making her beg to be used.
No—Kalista in the store, bold and radiant, standing in front of Jenny. Jenny on her knees. No, that’s so wrong. That sharp mouth of Jenny’s, always questioning, always suspicious, now slack. Her clipboard forgotten. Her defiance melted.
Kalista looms over her like a vampire queen.
“You’re tense, Jenn,” Kalista purrs. “You don’t have to be. Just breathe. Just look at me. Look.”
Dominique shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. No, she told herself. Leave Jenny out of this. That’s fucked up.
But the fantasy crested and swept her away.
Jenny, swaying. Kneeling. Kalista in front of her, mesmerizing her with her ass—just like she’d done to Dominique. Kalista rewarding her with praise. With control. With the right to serve.
Jenny, submissive for once. Eyes glazed. Mouth open.
Dominique moaned, biting her fist. That’s so wrong, goddammit. Fuck off…
But ‘Nique’s hips arched instinctively, her entire body straining for friction, for anything.
Kalista would love it. Two pretty little managers, collared and kneeling. One former skeptic, one broken boss. Owned.
“You’re not the only one I can tame, baby,” Kalista would whisper while ‘Nique tongue-fucked her. “I can have anyone I want. And you love that for me, don’t you?”
Dominique almost came right then—without touching herself. Just from the shame of it. The wanting. The knowing. But she didn’t cum. She didn’t touch.
Kalista had said no.
And Dominique was nothing if not obedient.
3.
‘Nique shuffled into Sweat Shop ten minutes before opening, dark circles under her eyes, her entire body aching with need. Her skin was hot beneath her clothes, her thoughts slow and sticky.
She hadn’t slept, not really.
Not with Kalista’s words echoing in her skull, while she drooled over that picture of her perfect ass and wished she could jill off to it. Not with her fucked up fantasies of Kalista breaking Jenny—of taking over the store and everyone in it. Owning it, owning them. Owning everything the way Kalista deserved.
She’d lain there for hours, soaking her sheets and squeezing her thighs together, caught in a helpless loop of lust and shame, her hand hovering over her cunt again and again—but never going further.
Obeying Kalista, even while it ruined her.
And now she was back at work and had to pretend to be normal. Jenny helped her open. Kalista arrived a few minutes late. Jenny glared at her. Dominique gawked.
She was wearing the new store uniform that had just come in—high-waisted shorts that hugged her hips, and a matching top that framed her cleavage with perfect precision. She’d pulled her hair into a messy bun, fresh and bouncy.
Whatever criticism Jenny might have levelled at her performance, Kalista sure made Sweat Shop look good. She was a goddess.
Dominique felt like a sewer rat in comparison. Especially after her sleepless night.
“Morning, Jenny! Morning, boss,” Kalista said, joining them. Her voice was innocent, casual—too casual.
Dominique swallowed. “Hey.”
Kalista tilted her head, studied her. “You look tired.”
Dominique gave a weak laugh. “Didn’t sleep well.”
“No? You didn’t… break the rules, did you?”
Dominique’s heart stopped. Jenny was right beside them.
Kalista smiled, low and wicked. “Didn’t I make myself very clear?”
Dominique flushed, breath hitching. She indulged in a quick nod. She wanted to say more, to confirm her obedience, but they weren’t alone.
Kalista understood, though. Her smile widened, satisfied. She mouthed, “Good girl.”
Dominique’s knees nearly buckled.
Kalista broke away and headed to the break room to drop off her bag. “I’ll be with you ladies in just a sec!”
‘Nique could feel Jenny’s glare on her, couldn’t bring herself to face it down. The minutes until she could open the store and let the customers form a barrier between her and her staff felt like torture.
At lunchtime, Kalista laced up her running shoes.
Dominique didn’t even pretend to hesitate. Her lunch forgotten, her body moved without thinking—changing into running gear, meeting Kalista at the side door. Like her good little pet.
Kalista said nothing. She just ran, and Dominique followed. This time, it wasn’t about setting a pace. It was about rhythm.
Kalista’s hips swayed with mechanical precision. Every step was fluid, almost choreographed. Dominique’s thoughts faded away faster than usual. Her body remembered what to do, and her mind went blank—lulled by the steady bounce of Kalista’s ass, the quiet thump of shoes on pavement, the deep, slow breathing she shared with her Mistre—with her running partner.
In. Out. One step. The next. Breathing, staring, following.
Kalista never looked back. She didn’t need to.
She knew Dominique was under her spell.
By the second mile, ‘Nique was running like a robot. Not thinking. Just watching. Her eyes fixed on the roll of Kalista’s hips, the flex of her glutes under tight black shorts. Her arousal was unbearable—but it didn’t matter. Nothing did.
Dominique’s mind melted completely. It was so soothing, being led without thinking. She wished she could follow Kalista like this forever.
Back at the store, Kalista put her arm around ‘Nique’s waist, comforting and possessive. “I like you this way, my good girl,” she cooed. “Just stay in that sweet, floaty space for me.”
Dominique nodded slowly, gratefully, damp with sweat, hair clinging to her forehead. Her eyes were glassy. Her breathing was shallow.
After they cleaned up, Kalista walked her to the front counter like a handler leading a pet on a leash.
A middle-aged woman came in. Designer bag, expensive shoes, attitude said “high-maintenance”. Kalista caught her first. “Hi there—welcome to Sweat Shop,” she said brightly. “Can we help you find something?”
The woman nodded, already distracted by her phone. “Yoga pants. I’m a small, find me something tasteful,” she said, as though dismissing a servant.
Kalista turned to Dominique. “Domi, help her. She’s a small. I think the new Floral Flow line would be perfect, don’t you?”
Dominique blinked. She tried to think, but Kalista had told her to stay in her trance after their run, and her mind wanted to obey. Words wouldn’t come.
Kalista smiled warmly, whispered, “It’s okay, baby. Just repeat after me.”
She stepped in behind Dominique, feeding her lines like a puppet master.
“Hi there, the yoga stuff is right over here.”
Dominique murmured it, almost inaudible.
Kalista pressed gently against her back, hand resting at her hip. “Louder, sweetheart. Nice and friendly.”
Dominique did as she was told.
The woman gave ‘Nique a look, then glanced sympathetically at Kalista. She probably thought Dominique was a new employee in training—and not a promising one. But she sighed and followed her to the rack.
Kalista walked just behind them, watching. Smiling.
Training her boss, but not for retail.
Dominique picked out the right pair of yoga pants. Her hands moved automatically, while her voice echoed Kalista’s phrasing. She felt like a marionette. A pretty, obedient puppet for Kalista. That was all she wanted to be, anymore.
From behind the register, Jenny watched them, her expression dark. Her eyes flicked between the two—Dominique flushed and dazed, Kalista standing just a little too close, just a little too smug.
Whatever was happening here, she didn’t like it.
Jenny cornered Kalista in the break room, shutting the door firmly behind her.
It was the afternoon rush. Dominique was out on the floor. They’d both need to join her soon.
Kalista was calmly sipping her water bottle, perched on the edge of the counter, feet stretched out on the table like she owned the place.
“We need to talk.”
Kalista didn’t look up. “Be my guest.”
Jenny’s jaw tightened. “You’re messing with her.”
Kalista’s eyes finally met hers—dark and amused. “With who?”
“Don’t play dumb. Dominique.”
Kalista took a sip from her bottle. “We’re grown women, Jenn. We can do what we like.”
“She’s your boss,” Jenny snapped. “And she’s not acting like herself anymore. She’s dazed half the time. You give her orders and she follows them like she’s fucking hypnotized.”
Kalista’s gaze sharpened—just slightly. “Maybe she’s just finally learning her place. Some people aren’t meant to lead, you know? Just to follow.”
Jenny took a step forward. “What do you think this is? You think you can waltz in here, show off your body, mess with her head, and just get whatever you want?”
Kalista didn’t retort. But she didn’t smile, either. She saw Jenny couldn’t be seduced. Her eyes held no desire, just suspicion.
Kalista sighed and set her bottle down.
“You’re right, Jenn. I am messing with her.”
Jenny blinked.
“I’m making her mine,” Kalista said, low and earnest. “It’s what she wants. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”
Jenny stiffened, visibly rattled for the first time. “I can go to corporate. File a complaint.”
Kalista smiled coldly. “Sure, I guess. You think I give a fuck about this job? Even if you get me fired, Domi’s right where I want her.”
“Oh, yeah? And where the fuck do you think that is?”
She brushed past Jenny on her way out of the room, slow and deliberate, letting her shoulder graze hers. “Under me. Between my legs. Kissing my ass. Wherever I want her.”
Kalista found Dominique after the rush had died down, still a little dizzy from their run.
She waited until Jenny had taken over the till. Then she touched ‘Nique’s shoulder and leaned close.
“Come to the back. Now.”
Dominique followed without hesitation.
In the break room, Kalista shut the door behind them. She didn’t bother with games this time. No teasing or whispering.
“I need you to do something for me,” she said.
Dominique blinked, slowly. “Okay.”
“I need Jenny gone.”
Dominique tensed, eyes widening. “You—what?!”
“She’s not a good fit anymore,” Kalista said calmly. “She’s aggressive. Hostile. Untrusting. She doesn’t respect the way you’re running the store.”
“I—” Dominique faltered.
Kalista stepped closer, filling her vision. “You know I’m right. She’s been questioning your decisions, Domi. Undermining you. Making you look weak.”
Dominique’s throat worked silently. She couldn’t deny it. Not exactly. She knew Jenny was on to them. She’d threatened to make trouble.
Kalista’s voice dropped, velvet and dangerous. “You’ve already given yourself to me. Your body. Your fantasies. Now show me your devotion.”
She took Dominique’s arms and wrapped them around her waist. ‘Nique caressed her, hands reflexively cupping Kalista’s ass. So warm, so firm. Intoxicating.
“I’ll make you feel so good, baby,” Kalista purred. “But first… get rid of her for me.”
Dominique trembled.
Her lips parted.
And after a long, shaking pause… she nodded.
The door had barely clicked shut behind Jenny before Dominique sank into her office chair and buried her face in her hands.
She’d done as she was told.
She’d fired her assistant manager.
She’d obeyed Kalista’s command.
“Due to repeated interpersonal conflicts, a combative attitude toward leadership, and resistance to new direction,” she had written. Corporate would nod and approve. Dominique had a stellar record. Her write-up had sounded clean, professional.
Her stomach was in knots.
Jenny hadn’t yelled. She’d just stared at Dominique for a long, shocked moment—betrayed. Hurt. She’d walked out with her head held high.
Now it was just after closing. The store was quiet. Dominique was shaking. She felt hollow and guilty, but her pussy was so wet.
The door creaked, and she knew Kalista was there. Her whole body throbbed in anticipation. Kalista strolled around the desk, then crouched beside the chair.
“You did it. Good girl,” she murmured.
Dominique let out a broken breath.
“I didn’t think I would—” she started, voice cracking.
“I knew you would, Domi, baby,” Kalista whispered. “I knew you’d obey.”
Dominique looked at her, eyes red. “It felt—wrong.”
“I know, my good girl. And it felt right, too.” Kalista’s voice was honey. “Deeper than right or wrong. It felt like doing what you were meant to do.”
Dominique didn’t answer.
“Didn’t it, Domi?”
Dominique didn’t raise her eyes, but nodded.
Kalista stood.
“Get on your knees.”
Dominique froze. She looked up, wide-eyed. Kalista’s tone was calm. Expectant.
“I said kneel, slut.”
Dominique slid to the floor without thinking, without hesitation.
She knelt in front of her employee. Her conqueror.
Kalista pulled off her top, her sports bra following. She unfastened her shorts slowly, letting them slide down her hips.
Dominique stared up at her, dazed with awe. Worshipful. The woman before her was divine.
Kalista stepped forward until her perfect body was just inches away.
“Touch yourself,” she commanded. “But don’t cum. Not without permission.”
Dominique moaned, her hands slipping between her thighs instantly, eyes still locked on Kalista’s curves—her heavy breasts, her well-defined abs, a soft patch of trimmed hair framed by the smooth strength of her thighs.
Kalista reached down, took Dominique’s chin in one hand. “Now worship me.”
Dominique did.
She kissed her thighs, soft and reverent, her hands trembling. She licked gently at the salt on Kalista’s skin, her tongue trailing up to the crease of her hip, mouth open, breathless, desperate.
Kalista guided her forward, slowly, until Dominique’s mouth was right where she’d dreamed of being—Kalista’s cunt. The scent, the heat, the taste—it was everything.
Dominique moaned into her, fingers moving faster over her own clit, her body shaking as she devoured her goddess.
Kalista let her feast. Pressed herself into ‘Nique’s face, started to tremble and moan, showing her subservient boss what a good job she was doing.
When Kalista finally came, gripping Dominique’s hair, grinding into her mouth with a guttural, triumphant cry—Dominique came so close to the edge. So close. She couldn’t believe she could hold back her orgasm.
But Kalista hadn’t given her permission. And she needed to obey.
Kalista pulled away and looked at her new pleasure slave, panting, victorious.
Dominique looked so small on her knees, her fingers slick and shaking, her body teetering on the edge. Her eyes were locked on Kalista’s, her gaze silently begging for release.
“Stop.”
Dominique moaned.
“Hands behind your back.”
She obeyed.
Kalista cupped her face, tilting her chin up. “From now on, you don’t cum unless I say so. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mistress,” Dominique whispered, her voice hoarse.
“Tell me.”
“My orgasm belongs to you.”
Kalista smiled.
“Good girl. And what else belongs to me?”
Dominique swallowed hard. “My body. My mind. My soul.”
Kalista bent down and kissed her forehead, a benediction for her slave.
“My very good girl.”
Dominique’s body still burned. She kept her hands clasped behind her back. Her pussy ached from pleasure denied. She was soaked and trembling, felt dazed and helpless—but quiet. Peaceful. She drifted in the bliss of belonging to Kalista.
Her Mistress turned away—slowly, gracefully—and let Dominique worship with her gaze.
Her back was a sculpture. Her spine dipped into the firm swell of muscle above her hips, which led down to the glorious curve of her ass: full, perfect, round and high, smooth with just the lightest sheen of sweat. The kind of ass that shouldn’t exist outside of fantasy.
Kalista moved—subtly. Swayed. Flexed. In hypnotic rhythm.
Dominique’s mouth fell open. Her eyes locked on the motion. She forgot to breathe.
Kalista looked over her shoulder, saw the blank, reverent stare, and smiled.
“That’s right,” she said. “Drop deeper.”
She took one step backwards, towards her slave. Another. Stepped closer until Dominique’s face was just inches away from her divine curves.
“You’ve been hypnotized by this ass of mine for a long time, haven’t you?” Her voice was soft. Enchanting. Merciless. “Every run. Every step. Every shift of my hips. You couldn’t stop watching.”
Dominique moaned, nodding helplessly. Realizing Kalista couldn’t see her, she said, “Yes, Mistress. I couldn’t stop.”
“You couldn’t resist me. You couldn’t help yourself, little Domi. And now you’ll never be able to again.”
She backed up one last inch, her ass pressing lightly against Dominique’s lips.
“Worship.”
Dominique gasped—and she obeyed.
Her lips brushed the curves of Kalista’s ass, her tongue following. Gentle. Humble. Utterly broken. She offered her mouth, kissing and licking. She sought all the places where her touch would please her Mistress the most.
Her cunt ached desperately, but she kept her hands behind her back. Kept her thighs spread wide apart.
Denied.
Owned.
This was how Dominique belonged. Kalista had taught her. And all she wanted now was to show how grateful she was.