Chapter 3 Obedience has a taste

Chapter Three: Obedience Has a Taste

Elsie Hart arrived at work the next morning determined to ignore Damian Blackthorn.

She made it exactly 37 minutes.

An email pinged in her inbox. Private. Confidential. No subject. Sent directly from his personal account.

> You wore that same blouse yesterday.

I liked it better wrinkled.

- D.B.

She slammed her laptop shut.

He was watching her.

Somewhere in this glass kingdom of power suits and controlled chaos, he was watching her.

And she couldn't breathe from the thrill of it.

---

By lunchtime, a second message arrived.

No words. Just an address. A private high-rise in the upper financial district. Attached was a calendar invite labeled:

> Quarterly Review - Executive File Only

9:30 PM. Tonight.

She stared at the screen. Her mouse hovered over the "decline" button.

She clicked accept.

---

She shouldn't have gone.

Not in her modest skirt and trembling heels. Not with her body so aware of itself, every breath shallow, every nerve on fire.

The building was dark except for a single penthouse light.

She knocked once.

He opened the door barefoot, shirt unbuttoned, a tumbler of whiskey in his hand.

"You came," Damian said.

"You sent a calendar invite."

He smiled. "I like your literal mind."

She stepped inside.

There was no desk. No paperwork. No briefcase.

Just floor-to-ceiling windows, low music, and a couch made of leather so black it shimmered.

"Come sit."

"I thought this was a meeting."

"It is." His voice deepened. "A review of... boundaries."

---

He poured her a drink.

She didn't take it.

He stepped behind her again, like he had in the elevator. Like a wolf tasting wind.

"Elsie," he said softly, "do you want me to kiss you?"

She hesitated.

"Yes."

It was all he needed.

His hand slid to her waist, pulling her back against him, his mouth hot at her ear.

"Then listen carefully."

He turned her, caged her against the wall with one hand beside her head, the other slipping beneath the hem of her blouse.

"You'll say yes when you mean yes. And you'll say stop if I go too far."

She nodded.

"No, Elsie. I want to hear it."

"Yes," she whispered. "Stop if I say stop."

"Good girl."

And then his mouth was on hers-hard, claiming, filthy with need. His tongue swept in, and her knees buckled.

She gasped when his hand slipped inside her panties.

"You're soaked," he said, voice rough with hunger. "All this from a kiss?"

She moaned, gripping his arm, riding his fingers as he slid them in deeper, curling just right, his thumb teasing her until-

"Damian-!"

She shattered.

Her first orgasm against a wall. Fully clothed. With her boss's hand inside her.

He kissed her temple as she trembled. Whispered, "You're mine now, little secretary."

And she didn't argue.

Because it felt terrifyingly true.