John had always been the one in control.

From the very first time they were together, he had been the one guiding Sasha, coaxing out her submission with knowing touches, whispered commands, and an unwavering presence that made her knees weak. He loved watching her surrender, her body trembling under his hands, her lips parted in breathless anticipation as he pushed her further than she thought she could go.

She had grown under his training, learning patience, learning obedience, learning how to hold herself still even as her body burned for release.

And he relished it.

Tonight was no different—at least, not at first.

Sasha stood at the foot of the bed, bare and waiting, her wrists cuffed together in front of her. The smooth plug nestled deep inside her made her squirm, her thighs already slick with arousal. John had spent the last hour teasing her, edging her mercilessly, holding the vibrating wand against her until she was gasping—only to pull it away the moment she got close.

She was a trembling mess, her legs shaking, her breath uneven.

John sat in the chair across from her, watching, his own body wound tight with restraint. His cock throbbed against his thigh, but he ignored it. This was about her torment.

“You look beautiful like this,” he murmured, his voice rich with satisfaction. “So desperate. So fucking needy.”

Sasha whimpered.

He smirked.

“You want to come, don’t you?”

She nodded frantically, her lip caught between her teeth, her eyes blown wide with lust.

“Not yet.”

The sound she made was somewhere between a whine and a sob, her knees threatening to buckle.

John leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he drank her in. “You know why I keep you like this?”

She nodded again. “Because you love teasing me,” she whispered, her voice wrecked with need.

“That too.” He reached out, gripping her chin between his fingers, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. “But mostly because I love watching you break.”

A shudder ran through her.

John’s thumb traced over her bottom lip, his eyes dark and hungry. “Get on the bed, baby.”

She obeyed instantly, crawling onto the mattress, her hands bound in front of her, her body still flushed and trembling from denial. She lay on her back, her thighs spread, offering herself to him completely.

He climbed onto the bed beside her, running his hands over her flushed skin, dragging his fingers over her hips, her stomach, the curve of her breasts. She was so fucking soft, so warm, so ready for him.

He leaned down, brushing his lips over her ear. “Beg me.”

“Please,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “Please let me come, Sir.”

John groaned, his cock twitching at the desperate plea, but he wasn’t ready to give in. Not yet.

Instead, he slid his hand between her thighs, pressing his palm against her soaked folds. “You’re so fucking wet for me,” he murmured, his fingers gliding through the slickness. “You want it that bad?”

“Yes,” she gasped, arching into his touch. “Please, I need it—”

He cut her off with a sharp slap to her clit.

She cried out, her body jerking.

“You don’t need anything,” he said darkly. “You take what I give you.”

Sasha whimpered, her breath coming in ragged little gasps, her entire body strung tight with need.

John kept her there, playing with her, teasing her, bringing her to the edge again and again only to pull her back, loving the way she writhed beneath him, the way her voice turned desperate, the way her body shook as he pushed her further into submission.

Finally, when he decided she had earned it, he pressed two fingers inside her, curling them against that perfect spot, his thumb working her clit in slow, relentless circles.

The orgasm tore through her like a tidal wave.

She sobbed as she came, her whole body shaking, her wrists straining against the cuffs as her legs clamped around his hand.

John groaned, watching her fall apart, savoring the way she trembled beneath him.

But he wasn’t done.

Not even close.

He dragged her through three more orgasms, each one hitting her harder than the last, until she was nothing but a quivering mess beneath him, her body spent, her breath shaky.

He sat back, stroking his hand over her damp skin, admiring his work.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured, brushing a kiss against her temple. “See what happens when you obey?”

She let out a small, breathless laugh, her eyes still hazy with pleasure.

John smirked.

What he didn’t realize—what he couldn’t possibly anticipate—was that he had just set something in motion.

Because tonight, Sasha had learned something.

She had learned what it felt like to be pushed beyond her limits. She had learned what it meant to be utterly at someone’s mercy.

And soon, very soon, John would learn too.

The shift happened slowly, subtly, so much so that John didn’t even realize it at first.

The next night, Sasha turned the tables.

She wasn’t the trembling, submissive thing she had been before. She was still bound, still at his mercy, but something in her gaze had changed.

John didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late.

One moment, he was in control—watching her with that smug, knowing smirk as she knelt before him, her hands resting demurely on her thighs.

The next, she had him on his back, straddling his chest, pinning him beneath her.

His breath hitched as she smirked down at him, dragging her fingers over his chest, over the thick muscles of his shoulders.

“You love teasing me,” she murmured, tilting her head. “Don’t you?”

John swallowed hard.

Her smirk widened.

“Now it’s my turn.”

She shifted forward, planting her knees on either side of his face, lowering herself just enough that he could feel her heat, smell her arousal.

His cock twitched violently, but she ignored it.

Instead, she rocked her hips, dragging herself over his lips, grinding against his face as she took what she wanted.

John groaned, his hands gripping the sheets, his entire body stiff with tension.

“You’re going to lie there,” she purred, “and you’re going to take what I give you.”

He shuddered.

Sasha moaned as she rode him, using his mouth, grinding against his tongue, making him drink her down. She didn’t hold back, didn’t let him up for air, didn’t give him a moment of reprieve.

John’s cock was an iron rod against his stomach, leaking, desperate. But he couldn’t do anything about it.

She had him trapped.

When she came, it was explosive.

She trembled, her whole body shaking, her thighs clamping around his head, forcing him to drink down every drop of her pleasure.

And then—still gasping, still riding the aftershocks—she reached down and wrapped her fingers around his cock.

John nearly sobbed.

He bucked into her grasp, but she controlled the pace, stroking him with slow, firm movements, dragging it out, watching him fall apart beneath her.

She didn’t stop until he was begging.

Only then did she tighten her grip, working him faster, watching him shatter beneath her.

When he finally came, it was violent, his whole body jerking, his release spilling over her fingers.

Sasha smiled, utterly triumphant, as she sat back, running a single finger through the mess on his stomach.

John lay there, panting, his face still slick with her arousal, his expression utterly wrecked.

She leaned down, brushing a kiss over his jaw.

“Now,” she whispered, lips curling against his skin, “I think you’ve learned your lesson.”

Sasha collapsed against John’s chest, her body still humming, her breath coming in soft, uneven gasps. The power between them had shifted so violently, so completely, and yet there was no unease—just the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath her, the warmth of his skin against hers.

John’s arms came around her instinctively, wrapping her in the kind of embrace that spoke of something deeper than dominance or surrender. His fingers traced slow circles against her back, grounding her, soothing her, pulling her back into herself after the storm of sensation.

She felt his lips press against the top of her head, the touch more intimate than anything that had come before.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured.

She let out a small, breathless laugh. “I think you broke me.”

John chuckled, the deep rumble vibrating through his chest. “I think we broke each other.”

She sighed, sinking into him, feeling the weight of his arms, the unspoken care in the way he held her. The silence between them wasn’t empty—it was full.

Full of understanding. Full of trust.

After a moment, John reached for the bottle of water on the nightstand, uncapping it and pressing it to her lips. She drank greedily, letting him take care of her in this quiet, simple way.

When she finished, he kissed her temple, his thumb stroking lazily along the dip of her spine. “You were incredible,” he murmured.

Sasha smiled against his skin, pressing a kiss to his collarbone in return. “So were you.”

She felt his breath hitch, as if he wanted to say more, something heavier, something neither of them was quite ready to put into words. Instead, he just held her tighter, letting his touch say what he couldn’t.

And that was enough.