Under My Rules

He arrived expecting a challenge, but he quickly learned that he had underestimated me.
I sat comfortably in my chair, watching him with an expression that was almost amused.

“You're late.”

“I'm sorry, Mistress.”

“Sorry doesn't fix it.”

The silence that followed was worse than shouting.
I let him stand there, waiting, until he finally understood that I wasn't going to rescue him from his own discomfort.

“Look at me.”

He did exactly as told.

“Do you know why you're here?”

“To prove myself.”

I smiled coldly. “Then stop talking about proving yourself and start doing it.”

I gave him a series of simple tasks. Nothing complicated—just deliberate tests of patience, attention, and obedience.
Each time he made a careless mistake, I sent him back to the beginning.

“No excuses.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Again.”

The word became increasingly difficult to hear.
Eventually, frustration showed on his face.
I noticed immediately.

“Good. Now we're getting somewhere.”

I stood up and finally walked towards him.

“You wanted something harsher. You wanted to know whether you could handle being challenged.”

I stopped right in front of him.

“Then understand this: I don't care how confident you were when you walked through that door. In my presence, confidence is something you earn.”

He swallowed and nodded.

“Now,” I said, smiling softly, “we can finally begin.”