Your obedience

You told yourself you came back because of the debt.

$120.

That little number sitting beside your name gave you an excuse.

An excuse to open my messages again.

An excuse to look at me again.

An excuse to pretend this was about money.

I knew better.

“You’re late.”

Your reply came almost instantly.

“I know.”

I smiled.

“And what happens when you keep me waiting?”

A pause.

“You decide.”

There.

That was what I wanted.

Not your money.

That little moment when you stopped pretending you were in control.

“Take your shirt off.”

You obeyed.

“Good. Now sit there. Hands to yourself.”

Another pause.

“That’s not fair.”

“Neither is staring at my pictures all night and expecting me not to notice.”

You went quiet.

I knew exactly what I was doing to you now.

You wanted me to tease you. You wanted permission. You wanted me to finally give you the thing you'd been thinking about since you opened my message.

Instead, I made you wait.

One minute.

Then two.

Then five.

Finally:

“Please.”

I smiled at the screen.

“Please what?”

“You know.”

Of course I knew.

I just wanted to make you say it.

“Tell me why you really came back.”

Another long pause.

Then:

“Because I missed this.”

There it was.

Suddenly that $120 beside your name didn't seem very important.

I could've asked you to pay it.

Instead I sent:

“Good boy.”

“Keep your hands where I told you.”

“Your debt can wait.”

Because tonight, I wanted to collect something much more interesting.

Your obedience.