The powerful waves of pleasure coursed through his body as he emptied himself inside his Mummy.

I turned his face toward the massive mirror that stretched across the bathroom wall, making sure he saw exactly what I did. The way his cock twitched, the way his chest rose and fell in quickened breaths, the way his body was on display like a decadent offering.

He kneels where she told him—naked, trembling, waiting. Mummy doesn’t need his cock tonight. She wants his surrender. Her room, her rules. The scent of jasmine and leather clings to the air as she spreads him, teases him, opens him with her tongue and fingers before sliding her strap-on inside. He sobs into the pillow as she takes him—slow, deep, deliberate. Owned. Filled. Fucked. And still not allowed to come.

The craving hadn’t faded—it had deepened. He needed her touch, her voice, her control. Summoned again, he knelt before her, trembling as Mummy made him strip, worship her thighs, and submit fully to her desire. Bound with silk, teased with her mouth, denied until she decided he was ready. When she finally took him, it was slow, wet, and overwhelming. He came on command, her name breaking from his lips. Spent. Owned. Hers.

Back at my playroom, the moment the door shut behind us, I tugged at his collar and forced him to his knees.

As soon as we stepped inside his home, a secluded retreat promising privacy and intimacy, he pinned me against the wall.