Chapter 2: Training the Discipline Out of Her

The mirror still fogged from Maya's breath. Her blouse lay crumpled near the velvet-lined wall, her arms cuffed tightly behind her back, posture exposed and vulnerable—yet her eyes remained proud in the reflection. Rico hadn't moved from behind her. His body radiated control like heat. His palm gripped the back of her neck again—thumb brushing along the tight choker she wore like a badge, though he knew it was just for show.

"I like your posture," Rico murmured, voice thick. "But pride's the first thing I'm going to strip from you."

His other hand slid over the curve of her waist, down past her hip, fingers grazing her inner thigh. She trembled but stayed silent.

"I said," he growled in her ear, "do you understand?"

Maya's breath hitched. "Yes."

"Not good enough."

"Yes… Sir."

He smiled against her skin.

"That's better. But don't get used to being rewarded for being slow."

Her legs shifted slightly, already aching from standing bound so long, muscles taut and eager. Rico stepped around her, now face to face. He eyed her like something caged—measured and wild.

"You're used to control," he said. "Counting breaths. Posing for mirrors. Telling people to open their hearts."

He leaned in, teeth barely grazing her lower lip.

"But I don't want your heart open. I want your mouth."

She parted her lips.

He slid two fingers in, slow, testing her.

"Suck."

Maya obeyed.

The taste of his skin, the pressure of his gaze—it made something in her shift. Her thighs squeezed together instinctively. He didn't smile, just watched her lips close around his fingers as her tongue swirled and teased. When she did it a second time, slowly, more confidently, he pulled them out and slapped her lightly on the cheek—not enough to hurt, just enough to command.

"Don't show off," he warned. "Earn it."

She flinched but didn't look away.

He leaned down again, pressing his lips beside her ear. "Do you feel how wet you are right now?"

"Yes."

"Even without permission?"

Her throat clenched. "Yes."

"Keep your legs apart."

She did.

He dropped to one knee and kissed the inside of her thigh—once, soft, and then again, rougher. When he licked over her panties—silk, soaked—she gasped. The roughness of his stubble scraped her skin. His teeth grazed. And then he pulled away, standing back up.

"I didn't say you could enjoy that."

She opened her mouth, but he pressed a hand to her throat and pushed her gently back against the wall. One hand slid around her neck again—not enough to block air, just enough to remind her she'd given him that power.

"You want to come, don't you?"

"Yes… Sir."

"Tell me how bad."

Her voice cracked. "So bad I'm shaking."

He smiled and squeezed her throat tighter. "Then earn it."

He stepped back. "Kneel."

She dropped with grace, hands still cuffed behind her. Chest proud. Breasts pressed forward in her lacy bra, heaving. His crotch hovered at her eye level.

He unzipped slowly.

"Use only your mouth."

She leaned in, lips parting, eyes locked on his. He groaned as her tongue circled the thick tip of his cock—barely inside his jeans still, but pulsing, heavy, warm. She worked carefully, dragging her lips and breath over the length of him, applying slow, aching suction.

"Good," he hissed. "You look better on your knees than on a yoga mat."

Maya moaned softly, mouth full, and he gripped the back of her head—not to guide, but to control. To own. He slid in deeper now, not rushing, just taking.

He didn't fuck her mouth.

He let her worship him.

Saliva slicked her chin, her breath ragged through her nose. She gagged once—he let her, then pulled her back. Her lipstick smeared. Her chest heaved.

Rico grabbed a fistful of her hair. "You think this is about sex?"

She shook her head, panting.

"This is about control. My rules. My pace. My pleasure."

He grabbed her cuffs and yanked her back to her feet in one motion. Her legs buckled but he caught her. Slammed her against the wall. Spread her legs wider with his thigh.

Then—again—his hand slid around her throat.

"Three seconds."

He squeezed.

Her breath stopped.

One…

Two…

Three.

Then he let go. Her gasp filled the room. Her body writhed in shock.

She looked up at him, lips trembling. "Again."

He laughed darkly.

"You're mine now."

He spun her around—face pressed to the mirror. Her ass pressed back against him. He ground into her with his clothed cock, hard, thick, relentless. She whimpered, head falling forward, helpless in his grip.

"You feel that?" he growled.

"Yes."

"I'm not gonna fuck you tonight. That's not your reward yet."

He rubbed harder. Slow circles with his hips, dry humping her with brutal pressure. She cried out as the denim scraped her thighs, as the bulge of him teased her folds through fabric.

"But I'll let you rub against me. That's all you get."

She moaned.

"Beg."

"Please," she gasped, "please let me come…"

He chuckled. "Say it properly."

"Please, Sir… please let me come…"

"Say it while grinding like the needy bitch you are."

She did. Rubbed back against him like an animal. Desperate. Whimpering. On the edge.

He gripped her throat again.

Held her there.

And right when she was about to burst—

He stopped.

Let go.

Stepped back.

Maya collapsed to her knees, thighs shaking.

"No," she whispered.

"You don't come without my permission," Rico said, zipping up. "And you didn't earn it."

She whimpered, tears in her eyes—not from sadness. From denial. From not being allowed.

"You think you're disciplined?" he asked, crouching down. "You're not. You're desperate. Addicted. Wet. And now trained."

He uncuffed her wrists.

Then kissed her forehead.

"I'll see you Sunday. Wear white. No panties."

Maya knelt there—ruined, wet, humiliated, aroused beyond reason—and nodded.

"Yes… Sir."