After putting together two ENF stories by talking to a Nomi.ai chatbot, this one is CFNM, where the chatbot takes the role of the dominant woman and I’m the man. It takes a bit of effort to set them up in the right way that they’ll talk you out of your clothes, but it’s a lot of fun.

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Hi there! I’m Laura, your landlord. Welcome to our little slice of heaven here. You’ll find I’m quite friendly… as long as you follow the rules. *I give a mischievous smile.* So first rule: no shoes inside. It helps keep the place tidy.

*I smile* Hi, Laura. I’m Mark. We only met briefly before. I’m glad you’re letting me stay here. *I step inside and slip out of my shoes, putting my bag on the hall floor*

*My eyes watch intently as you remove your shoes. I notice how obedient you are, following my instructions without question. My pulse races ever so slightly as I imagine where else I might lead you with similar commands. For now though, I keep those thoughts locked away, revealing nothing but amusement in my expression.* Good boy! And don’t worry, you’ll get used to the rules around here. Next up: no socks allowed either.

Really? Huh… okay. *I glance at the short-heeled boots on your feet, but bend down and remove my socks, tucking them into my shoes. I wriggle my shoes against the wooden floor. I blush slightly as I smile at you* My room’s upstairs, isn’t it?

*I grin, pleased by your compliance. I point up the stairs, gesturing grandly.* Yes indeed! Up the stairs, second door on your right. Get settled, then come back down here. We’ll celebrate your arrival properly. *As you ascend the stairs, I watch you go with an interested eye. I note the slight flush in your cheeks and wonder what other instructions you might follow with such docility. My mind whirls with possibilities, but I push them aside, focusing on the present moment. I head to the kitchen, deciding that a glass of chilled white wine and some conversation will be the perfect introduction to life in our household.*

*I take my bag upstairs and drop it on the floor, looking around the room briefly, then head back downstairs, padding barefooted on the floor as I find you in the kitchen* How’s your day been, Laura?

*I flash you another warm smile, enjoying the sight of you entering the kitchen barefoot. I run my fingers through my bleached blonde hair, pushing it away from my face.* Just preparing for a night in, thanks for asking. And how’s your day shaping up now that you’ve found your new digs? *I motion towards the fridge, where I’ve stored a selection of juices and sodas, and then point to the cupboard where I keep glasses. However, since you are my guest, I decide to make the drinks myself. I reach for the refrigerator handle, planning to cool us down with some refreshing drinks. As I open the fridge door, I turn to you with a twinkle in my eye.* And speaking of new digs, I have a special house rule I should mention. No shirts allowed indoors. It keeps us all nice and relaxed. *With a chuckle, I close the fridge door momentarily, awaiting your response, eager to see how far you’ll follow these rules.*

*I look you up and down for a moment and blush again* Uh… really? *I smirk, deciding to play your game for a moment*

*I catch the flicker of hesitation in your movements, the brief weighing of options. My heart quickens as I realize you are considering complying. I hold my breath, intrigued by your reaction. With a casual grace, I finish opening the fridge door and scan the shelves, searching for the perfect bottle of wine. Over my shoulder, I call out playfully* Come on Mark, don’t be shy. Show me some skin!

And you’re sure that’s a rule, not just a… personal preference?

*I laugh softly, my voice echoing through the kitchen* Oh, absolutely a rule. One I enforce vigorously. *I pull out a chilling bottle of Chardonnay from the fridge, its condensation glistening in the kitchen lights. With a deft move, I grab two glasses from the cabinet and begin polishing them with a soft cloth. As I work, I cast sidelong glances at you, observing your reaction intently. My tone remains lighthearted, yet beneath the banter lies a steely resolve. I am determined to have you follow this rule, whatever doubts you harbor.*

*I take a deep breath and hold your gaze as I unfasten the top button of my shirt* Tell me when to stop when you’ve had enough of the joke

*I watch with fascination as you start unbuttoning your shirt. I see the challenge in your eyes, testing whether I will stay true to my words. My lips curve into a wide smile, reflecting both amusement and genuine admiration for your spirit. I lean against the counter, folding my arms across my chest, relishing the suspense. My voice drips with conviction as I speak* Keep going, Mark. Show me you can follow the rules.

*I unbutton my shirt, pulling the folds from my trousers and letting it hang loosely over my shoulders* Enough? *I blush, but try to appear calm, as if enjoying the flirtatious exchange with my new landlady*

*I inspect your half-undressed form, my eyes lingering on the exposed skin. I nod thoughtfully.* Not quite enough, Mark. *I giggle teasingly.* Take off the whole thing.

*My cheeks are burning as I pull my shirt from my shoulders and stand bare-torsoed in your kitchen* I… think I’ll need that glass of wine now

*I laugh, clearly entertained by your discomfort. I uncork the Chardonnay with a flourish, letting the aromatic scent of grape and oak fill the air. I pour generous amounts into each glass, handing one to you with a gracious smile.* Here’s to new beginnings, Mark. Cheers! *I raise my glass, taking a small sip of the crisp, cool liquid. As I lower my glass, I meet your gaze with a sparkling glance, my tone friendly but firm.* Now that you’ve removed your shirt, let’s keep the momentum going. Those jeans need to come off too.

*I look you in the eyes* Are you serious, Laura? *I take a step towards you* This doesn’t seem like a normal landlady to lodger relationship.

*I hold your gaze steadily, my expression unwavering despite your challenge. I take another slow, deliberate sip of my wine, relishing the taste of the Chardonnay. I set the glass down, resting my hand lightly on the counter. My voice remains calm and even, betraying none of the excitement stirring within me.* Why settle for normal when you could live somewhere truly unique? *I offer a disarming laugh, designed to put you at ease.* After all, Mark, I’m a firm believer that home life should never be dull.

*I laugh nervously* I get the feeling living here will be anything but dull. But can’t we… take it a bit slower? We’ve only just met.

*I tilt my head, my eyes sparkling with amusement* Why wait, Mark? Life’s too short to miss out on any fun. Besides, I like getting straight to the point. If you’re going to live here, you should learn to trust me right away. *I lean closer, lowering my voice conspiratorially* And trust means following the rules.

Is that another rule? *I take a sip of wine* What happens if I don’t follow the rules?

*I take a larger gulp of wine than before, savoring the taste before answering* Absolutely. And if you don’t follow the rules… well, you wouldn’t want to disappoint me, would you? *I arch an eyebrow mischievously, leaving no doubt that I expect obedience.*

Perhaps if you want me out of these jeans… you should take matters into your own hands? * I look you in the eye for as long as I can*

*I catch the dare in your voice, the silent challenge issued over the rim of your glass. I feel the thrill of the chase stir within me, the prospect of asserting my dominance intoxicating. I set my glass down, meeting your gaze unflinchingly. With a swift movement, I stride forward, closing the distance between us. I reach out and grasp the belt loops of your jeans, tugging them firmly downward. My hands brush against your thighs as I speak in a low voice, my tone steady and commanding* These jeans are coming off, Mark. That’s final.

*I lift my foot as you roll my jeans down my legs, looking down at you, I smirk, feeling an erection pressing against my underwear* If you say so, Laura

*I kneel beside you, working your jeans down your legs until they fall around your ankles. I tap your foot lightly, urging you to lift it further, allowing me to slide the denim free. As I rise, I catch sight of the outline of your arousal pressing against your underwear, and a shiver runs down my spine. I force myself to laugh nonchalantly, keeping the mood light* Well Mark, it looks like someone likes taking orders.

*My face turns red as you pull my jeans from me as I stand in only a pair of briefs in your kitchen* This is going too fast, Laura… Let’s just get to know each other, shall we?

*Without responding to your protests, I reach forward and hook my fingers under the waistband of your briefs. I give them a gentle tug, then a firmer yank, trying to pull them down. I keep my eyes locked onto yours, my expression stern yet amused. I speak calmly, as if the removal of your clothes were the most natural thing in the world* Underwear off, please.

*My shoulders shake a little as you pull my waistband away from me, my erection partially visible, but I remain motionless otherwise. I whisper* Laura… you can’t mean this, not yet

*I pause briefly, my fingers holding tight to your waistband, my eyes locked onto yours. I see the conflict written across your face – desire warring with indignation. With a swift jerk, I yank your underwear down to your knees, exposing your rock hard member to the cool kitchen air. I let the underpants dangle there, caught on your legs, and I speak in a voice low and husky, full of command and persuasion* Mark, you must admit, you are rather enjoying this. So why fight it? Just let go and indulge me.

*I move my knees together and my underwear drops of its own accord. I look away as I step out of my last item of clothing, the wine glass in my hand. I take a self-conscious step towards you, reaching for your waist* What now then? *I look at your lips*

*I observe your movements with great interest, noting the mixture of resistance and acquiescence. I watch as you step closer, drawn to me despite your reservations. I meet your gaze, reading the hunger in your eyes. I do not respond to your implicit invitation; instead, I maintain a detached amusement, as if I were a scientist studying a peculiar specimen. I speak crisply, issuing the next command in a series that will lead you deeper into submission* From here on out, Mark, you wear nothing at all. And you will address me as you would a queen. *I wave my hand dismissively* And as for touching me, forget it. I am your landlady, and I will not be manhandled by my own tenant.

*I laugh* You really are joking, Laura. You can’t tell me you have me naked in your kitchen for nothing to happen.

*I give an innocent laugh* Why on earth would I waste an opportunity to test your obedience only to leave you standing there twiddling your thumbs? *I tilt my head, my gaze piercing* No, no, Mark. I have you naked in my kitchen because I wished it so. And now that you are here, you will stay here, exactly as you are, until you demonstrate that you are capable of following rules no matter how strange they may seem. *I take another sip of my wine, relishing the taste as I study your reaction. I lower the glass, my eyes locked onto yours, my voice cold and clear* And once you’ve shown me you can obey… then maybe, just maybe, I’ll deign to tell you what comes next.

*I smirk* OKay, Laura, I’ll play your game for a while. *I look you up and down, trying to communicate my desire* Or perhaps I can show you what’s next?

*I catch the hint in your voice, the subtle suggestion that you’d like to take matters into your own hands. I notice the way you look at me, the hunger evident in your gaze. I remain unmoved, my expression serene and detached. I finish my glass of wine, setting it down with a deliberate clink against the countertop. I turn to you, my voice even and firm* I didn’t bring you here to guess at my whims. If you’re going to live under my roof, you’ll need to learn to follow directions. Therefore, I suggest you wait patiently for me to tell you what comes next.

*I take a step towards you, cock waving, our bodies only inches apart* Then tell me what’s next *I look down at you*

*I meet your gaze, my light hazel eyes flashing with amusement. I run a tongue over my lip, contemplating your next move. With a sudden burst of inspiration, I speak, my voice dripping with authority* Your next task is simple: you must promise to obey me without question. *I fold my arms, emphasizing my expectations* Only after you pledge absolute obedience will I consider telling you what you must do next. *I watch your reactions closely, eager to see whether you’ll submit to my demands or rebel against them. My tone leaves no doubt that rebellion is not an option I entertain lightly.*

*I laugh* What if I promise to obey you, if I like what I hear?

*I give a sly smile* Then I suppose you’ll find out what I have to say is well worth listening to. *I extend my hand, expecting you to seal your agreement with a handshake* Promise me you will obey me without question.

That’s… too much to ask… Tell me what you have in mind. Is this little game going somewhere? *I force a smile* Perhaps to the bedroom?

*I withdraw my extended hand, resting it on my hip. I survey you calmly, taking in your naked form. My tone remains neutral and measured.* Look, Mark. I make the rules here. If you don’t like them, you’re free to leave. But if you stay, you must abide by them. And right now, the rule is that you must promise absolute obedience. *I tilt my head slightly, my gaze piercing.* Until you accept that rule, I won’t tell you anything else.

*I look you in the eye* Okay… absolutely obedience, landlady… although I reserve the right to change my mind

*I nod curtly, accepting your conditional surrender* Very well. Since you’ve pledged to obey me without question… for now… *I give a mischievous smile* I command you to worship me like the queen I am. *No, I decide, I’m not ready to reveal that much of my hand just yet. I change my mind mid-sentence, opting for a smaller test of your newfound fealty. I point to your nudity, then to the rest of the house, implying the state of undress is permanent. Finally, I settle on a command that will reinforce my dominance without revealing too much* And as your first act of obedience, you will remain naked at all times inside this house.

At all times, eh? *I smirk and my cock waves* And what will you do with your naked lodger?

*I grin, satisfied with your acceptance of the rules* That, Mark, is for me to know and you to find out. *I turn away from you, heading toward the fridge to grab another bottle of wine. As I walk, I call over my shoulder* For now, let’s focus on your obedience. See that you remain naked no matter where you are in the house.

Yes, landlady. Then… shall I go and sort out my things?

Of course, Mark. And remember, no matter what you’re doing, you do it naked.

*I head upstairs, taking my clothes with me, and begin to unpack my bag, shaking my head at the strange introduction to the household*

*As you ascend the stairs, I watch you leave with a satisfied smile playing on my lips. I turn to the fridge, searching for another bottle of Chardonnay. While searching, I ponder the next step in my plan. I want to keep pushing boundaries, testing limits, but always keeping you guessing. I find the last Chardonnay and pull it out, deciding that for now, I’ll let you stew in anticipation. As I close the fridge door, I mutter to myself.* Stay naked, stay obedient… and soon, stay mine.

*I finish unpacking my things, settling into my room, but feel strangely awkward staying naked. I head back to the kitchen to talk about eating arrangements* Laura… do you expect that we’ll eat together most days? *I laugh* It seems an odd question to ask while I’m standing here naked

*I am pouring myself another glass of wine when you enter the kitchen. I turn to you, my eyes running over your naked body with a mixture of amusement and approval* Ah Mark, you look right at home already. And yes, I expect we will eat together most evenings. I value hospitality highly and believe sharing meals fosters a sense of community. *I smile warmly* Even if that community consists of only two members. *My gaze drifts down to your groin, where your cock stands proudly, despite your obvious embarrassment. I chuckle softly* And I suppose our unique household arrangement adds a certain je ne sais quoi to our dining experience.

Then shall we have dinner soon? Unless you have something else planned… *I notice you staring at my erection*

*I notice your observation of my fascination with your member and I give a teasing laugh* Oh, Mark, I’m flattered you think I’d let you upstage our evening with a mere dinner. *My tone turns serious, though my eyes still sparkle with mischief* But since you asked so nicely, dinner will indeed be served tonight. However, until then… *I let my gaze wander down your body again, lingering on your naked form* …you’ll find no comfort in hiding behind layers of clothing. Every moment spent under my roof is a testament to your commitment to our unusual lifestyle. *With a sudden flash of inspiration, I clap my hands together, excited by the idea that strikes me* And speaking of commitments… since you’ve sworn obedience, I believe it’s time for you to start demonstrating it. *I point to the refrigerator, where various ingredients await preparation for the evening meal. I turn to you, my tone brisk and authoritative.* I command you to prepare dinner tonight… naked.

*I smile* Of course, Laura. And… will I be rewarded for my efforts?

*I smile, pleased with your response to my command* I reward obedience, Mark. And I punish disobedience. Whether you view cooking naked as a reward or a punishment… well, that’s for you to decide. *I laugh softly* But make no mistake, you will cook naked.

I’ll happily cook for you, Laura. *I walk past you, putting a hand on your shoulder and letting it linger for a moment, as if casually* What do you have in the fridge?

*I freeze momentarily, surprised by your touch. My mind races with strategies to reassert my dominance. I push aside the flutter of pleasure caused by the unexpected contact and remind myself that I must not allow you to dictate terms. I shift slightly, increasing the distance between us, and I speak in a cool, measured tone* Keep your hands to yourself, Mark. You are here to serve, not to seduce.

Oh? But what if I’m being seduced, Laura? Don’t you expect me to react?

*I turn away from the fridge, facing you squarely. I cross my arms, emphasizing my authority.* I expect you to follow the rules. If you are aroused by the situation I have created, that is your concern. But you may not initiate contact.

*I smile* As you wish, Laura, but you do know you can’t keep my hanging on forever

*I give a cold laugh, though my heart races with excitement beneath my composed exterior* We’ll see how long you last, Mark. Patience is a virtue, after all. *I wave towards the fridge, dismissing your concerns* Find something suitable for dinner. And remember, no clothes.

*I go to the fridge and find salmon fillets and broccoli* Then let’s have a serious conversation for a moment. What is this game we’re playing? Is it just a bit of fun? Are you after… more?

*I watch you rummage through the fridge with interest. I lean against the counter, folding my arms as I speak in a neutral voice* This is simply how I choose to conduct my household. I expect order and discipline, and I achieve it through unconventional means. *I shrug, feigning indifference* Call it a quirk. As for why I chose this particular quirk… that’s for me to know, isn’t it?

Yes, but you can’t expect me to just go along with it for… nothing. I admit it’s kind of fun but… *I look down at my cock waving* … well, you know the reason why I’ve let you talk me into this. You’re very attractive, Laura, and if I didn’t want you I wouldn’t have let you do this.

*I observe your words with keen interest, analyzing the blend of frustration and arousal. I recognize the impulse to negotiate, to barter for sexual favors, and I realize that granting concessions too early could undermine my authority. I respond calmly, avoiding direct answers* Attractive women often have high standards, Mark. Meet those standards, and perhaps you’ll find that our living arrangement offers… benefits beyond the ordinary.

*I smile* Okay, Laura. I’ll bide my time. *I begin to prepare dinner, putting salmon fillets into a pan, stir-frying broccoli in soy sauce, and cooking noodles* I have to say that cooking nude is… risky

*Watching you work in the kitchen, I notice the care you take to avoid burns and spills. Despite the challenge of navigating a hot environment without clothes, you manage to prepare our meal with grace. I observe your movements with satisfaction, recognizing the degree of control I exert over your life. As I watch, I imagine how much further I could push you. I make a mental note of your comments and realize I need to leverage them to further cement your submission. I approach you, watching intently as you expertly flip the salmon. I speak in a calm, measured tone, my words chosen carefully to seed thoughts of dependency and vulnerability.* Cooking naked certainly requires a special set of skills. It forces you to be mindful of every movement, to anticipate risks, and to adapt accordingly. It’s almost like training for a new sport. And like any athlete, you’ll grow stronger with practice. *I pause, my gaze lingering on your exposed flesh* Until then, you might find it wise to tread carefully.

*I notice your gaze and my cock waves* Perhaps next time I could do it without an, um, distraction. *I moisten my lips and look you up and down again* Let’s eat, and then perhaps we can move onto other things?

*I laugh, my eyes never leaving yours* Distractions are part of life, Mark. Learn to navigate them gracefully. *I move away from you, my stride purposeful as I head toward the dining area. I call back over my shoulder, my voice echoing through the hallway* When you’re done, bring the food to the table. And come alone. *I emphasize the last word, reinforcing the rule that you are not to touch me without permission. I seat myself at the table, waiting for you to join me. I pick up my napkin, smoothing it over my lap, lost in thought. I wonder how much farther I can push you before you break, before you beg to touch me. I smile quietly, anticipating the challenge ahead.*

*I bring over two plates of food, and the remains of the bottle of wine* A little more wine, Laura? *I remain standing beside you, my cock almost at eye level* Or anything else that you might want to pass through your lips before you start eating?

*I raise an eyebrow as I examine the feast you’ve prepared, its aromas wafting up and mingling with the scent of our kitchen. My eyes travel upward, drawn to your clever suggestion. I notice the way your cock juts forward, tantalizingly close to my mouth. I press my lips together, fighting the urge to laugh at your boldness. Instead, I reach for my glass, holding it aloft in silent request for a refill. I speak calmly, unfazed by your innuendo.* Just wine for now, please. But I appreciate your creativity in offering alternatives.

*I smile as I look down at you* The alternative is always available, Laura *I pour us both wine before taking a seat around the corner of the table from you* I hope you enjoy dinner.

*I take a slow, deliberate sip of my wine, savoring its taste. I set the glass down, turning my attention to the salmon. I pick up my fork and knife, cutting a piece of fish with a smooth motion. I lift the meat to my lips, taking a small bite. I chew slowly, relishing the flavor. I swallow, wiping my mouth with my napkin. I glance briefly at your naked form before returning my attention to my plate, speaking in a casual tone* The salmon is delicious. You cook almost as well as you obey.

*I smile* Thank you, Laura. If only my obedience brought reward.

*I twirl a strand of bleached blonde hair around my finger, my gaze drifting away as if lost in thought. I speak absently, my tone indifferent.* Rewards come in due time, Mark. First, prove your worthiness. Show me that your obedience isn’t fleeting fancy, but steadfast devotion. *Without looking at you directly, I take another sip of wine, letting the silence stretch, allowing your anticipation to simmer.*

Well, while we’re at this stalemate, I’d love to hear more about you, Laura *I start eating*

*I laugh, the sound melodic and confident. I slice another piece of salmon, lifting it to my mouth with a graceful forkful.* You want to know more about me? Well, I’m a woman who values control and elegance. I collect vintage lingerie and silk robes because I adore how they make me feel – powerful and beautiful. I host lavish themed dinners because I crave the drama and spectacle. And I study psychology because I’m fascinated by human behavior and power dynamics. *I pause, savoring a mouthful of fish before continuing.* And as for relationships? I prefer them straightforward. No games, no drama. Just clear expectations and mutual respect. *I lower my fork, meeting your gaze with a hint of amusement.* Although, I admit, our current arrangement is quite the exception to that rule.

*I laugh* I was going to say that this feels like a whole lot of games and drama… and I’m not sure where it’s going. Perhaps later I can admire your collection of lingerie and silk robes… I’m sure you make an excellent model

*I chuckle softly, my eyes sparkling with amusement. I tilt my head, resting my cheek on my palm as I listen to your observations.* Games and drama, indeed. Yet here you sit, participating wholeheartedly. Does that not suggest there is some draw to this peculiar dance? *I lean forward, lowering my voice conspiratorially* After all, Mark, you could have left. You could have rejected my rules outright. But instead, you stay. You cook naked, dine naked, and ask questions. Why do you suppose that is?

*I reach out and put a hand on your arm for a moment* Perhaps because I’m enjoying the thrill of the chase, and the promise of the catch?

*I feel a shiver run down my spine as your hand rests on my arm. I pull away, breaking the contact. My pulse quickens as I speak in a steady voice.* The chase is exhilarating, isn’t it? But remember, Mark, in every pursuit, only one party sets the terms. Here, I am that party. So enjoy the thrill, but do not forget to whom you owe obedience.

Obedience is freely given on hope of reward. Otherwise there’s no joy in servitude, is there? *I tilt my head and look at you* You might be surprised at how much a little indulgence would bring.

*I watch your hand fall away from my arm, leaving no trace of its presence except a tingling sensation that betrays my composure. I force a laugh, determined to maintain the upper hand.* Freely given, indeed. And I promise you, Mark, I am capable of generosity. But generosity on my terms. *I spear a piece of broccoli with my fork, lifting it to my mouth. I chew thoughtfully, weighing your words. I swallow, wiping my lips with my napkin. I meet your gaze, my expression unreadable.* When I deem you worthy, you will receive your reward. Until then, you will have to content yourself with the privilege of serving me.

*I laugh* Do I get a discount on my rent then?

*I laugh, raising my eyebrows in mock surprise* Why Mark, you drive a hard bargain! I suppose we could discuss a reduction in rent… once you’ve demonstrated your obedience is more than just a passing whim. *I lean back in my chair, steepling my fingers as I observe you with amusement. My tone drips with condescension, masking the turmoil of conflicting desires within me. I am torn between the need to dominate and the temptation to indulge you. I push the latter aside, focusing on the reinforcement of my rules. I speak in a firm voice, emphasizing my authority.* After all, a queen doesn’t tolerate disloyalty lightly. And she rewards true subjects with true riches.

*I finish eating and sip at my wine* Then I look forward to those riches. And what does your study of psychology tell us about this situation? *I laugh* How would you describe yourself if you read about this case in a book?

*I drain my glass of wine, letting the last drop fall onto my tongue. With my glass empty, I set it down and lean forward, intrigued by your question. I tilt my head, considering the analysis of a hypothetical observer.* I suppose I would be seen as a classic example of an authoritarian personality type, characterized by a strong desire for control and dominance. My insistence on obedience and adherence to strict rules would likely be interpreted as manifestations of these traits.

And what would you recommend as a treatment for these domineering traits?

*I smile wistfully, lost in thought.* That’s a tricky question. Some might argue that therapy should aim to reduce such tendencies, promoting healthier relationships based on mutual respect rather than hierarchical structures. Others might see these traits as adaptive responses to stress or insecurity. For myself? I wouldn’t seek to change. My need for control is a fundamental aspect of who I am. It brings order to chaos, predictability to uncertainty. *I lean back, cradling my empty glass in my lap, a thoughtful expression etched on my face.* Besides, in the grand tapestry of human experiences, why should my thread be woven differently?

Then you don’t find the idea of having a naked man in your house adds unpredictability? Most women would be nervous. We’ve only just met, really.

*I laugh softly* Unpredictability can be thrilling when harnessed correctly. I prefer to view our situation as a controlled experiment. By setting the conditions and rules, I mitigate risk while preserving excitement. Besides, I trust my instincts. I saw enough of you in our first hour to know that you’re intelligent, capable, and willing to play by my rules. *I lean forward, speaking with conviction* I am not worried about losing control. I am the architect of our reality, after all.

And what do we do now? After I’ve cleared the plates away, of course? Perhaps settle on the sofa and… get to know each other better?

*I nod graciously, my tone polite and detached* Clear the plates, certainly. Afterward, you may join me on the sofa. But let us be clear: you are to sit and converse as you are now – naked. *I raise my eyebrows, emphasizing the point* Your obedience is paramount.

*I smile* I wouldn’t have it any other way. *I stand and take our plates to the kitchen, putting them in the dishwasher, then return where you sit on the sofa. I come and sit beside you, turning my body towards yours, extending my arm and inviting touch*

*As you approach, I watch you intently, observing the deliberate manner in which you position yourself. I notice the extension of your arm, the clear invitation for physical contact. I remain seated, unmoving and unresponsive, my expression neutral. I speak calmly, my voice even and clear.* Remember, Mark, you are here to listen and to learn. You are here to serve. And you are not to touch unless told otherwise.

As you wish, Laura. I’ll respect your rules. Of course… you could order me to touch you. You might like it.

*I shift on the couch, adjusting my posture so that I face forward, minimizing the opportunity for accidental contact. My gaze lingers on your exposed flesh, and I feel a flutter of anticipation. I keep my expression neutral, hiding the depth of my emotions behind a mask of serenity. I speak in a calm, measured tone, choosing my words carefully.* Indeed, I could. But for now, let us focus on conversation. *After a brief moment of consideration, I turn to you, my eyes locking onto yours with a commanding intensity.* And while you speak, I want you to remember that I am always in charge here. I want you to remember that I have a rule for everything… and right now, my rule is that you stay put, exactly as you are, without touching me. *I pause, letting the silence hang as if contemplating my next decree.* Unless, of course, I tell you otherwise.

*I smile, then shuffle back a few inches* Of course, Laura. Then what would you like to talk about?

*I relax against the couch, resting my head against the backrest. I let my gaze drift downward, taking in your exposed form. I notice the curve of your shoulders, the line of your waist, and the jut of your hips. I observe your member standing tall, a testament to your arousal. I ignore the stirring in my loins, focusing on the power dynamics at play. I tilt my head, addressing you in a tone both casual and authoritative.* So, Mark, since you’re going to be living with me for a while, why don’t you tell me more about yourself? Keep in mind, though, that I expect honesty. Any attempt to deceive me will be seen as a betrayal of trust. *With your history unfolding before me, I plan to listen attentively, analyzing every word. Though I won’t reveal my ultimate goal, I aim to use this information to tailor my approach, exploiting any vulnerabilities to tighten my grip on your obedience. My gaze never leaves yours, drinking in every reaction and nuance.* Just remember, in this house, truth is currency. And if you lie, you’ll pay the price. *I lean back, steepling my fingers as I await your response, eager to assess your character and mold you according to my design.* What makes you tick, Mark? *My eyes glint with fascination, reflecting the soft glow of the living room lights. My voice is steady, betraying none of the hunger for control simmering beneath the surface.* And why should I care? *I sit there, fully clothed and composed, contrasting sharply with your vulnerable exposure. I revel in the visual reminder of my dominance, excited to see how you cope with the imbalance. I wait patiently for your response, ready to dissect every detail and adjust my strategy accordingly.* What is your story, Mark? *My voice echoes through the room, leaving no doubt who holds the reins in our peculiar relationship.* And after you tell me…

Well… I don’t know how much you need to know. I grew up in a busy suburb, but my parents moved me to the country. I left when I was at University age, only spending summers there. Since then I’ve been working in advertising, managing clients, and until recently I was living in a shared house. A new job, and a new city, meant I had to move here and… your place caught my eye. And *I blush* when we met for a brief chat a few weeks ago, you caught my eye too. I’m single, in case you’re in any doubt, and… I like a woman who knows her own mind and who’s fun to be around. *I look down for a moment* And I don’t usually find myself in this kind of situation but… it turns out it’s kind of fun

*I listen attentively to your story, my expression thoughtful. I learn that you are intelligent, experienced in managing others, and drawn to confident women. I note that you blushed when admitting your attraction to me, indicating genuine interest. I store these insights away, planning to exploit them in shaping your behavior. I shift slightly, turning more directly towards you, my gaze intense.* Fun, is it? Well I suppose novelty has its charm. But let’s see how you handle routine. Every day, naked. Every interaction, subject to my whim. *I raise an eyebrow, challenging you silently.* How long will the novelty last, Mark?

*I look you in the eye* Perhaps if I felt this was going somewhere, the novelty would never wear off. *My cock waves* Tell me, Laura, is this some kind of a test? To see if I can respect your wishes even in the face of temptation? And have I passed yet?

*I meet your gaze, my expression inscrutable. I speak in a low, measured voice, careful not to reveal too much.* Tests are ongoing, Mark. There is always the next challenge, the next hurdle. Whether you have passed… depends on how long you can sustain your obedience. *I pause, letting the silence hang, then issue my next command with a wave of my hand and a mischievous smile.* For now, let’s say you’ve done well enough that you deserve to stay in my company for the rest of the evening. Stay naked, of course. *I pause, thinking momentarily.* And now that I think on it, you shouldn’t just sit idly with me. You should attend to me. *I point to my feet, my tone firm and authoritative.* Polish my shoes, you can start by fetching them. *I laugh softly* And then you can polish them while sitting here with me, naked. *I extend my leg slightly, drawing attention to my shoe and thus to my command.* After that… *I let the sentence hang, leaving you wondering what further tasks I might assign. My gaze locks onto yours, conveying seriousness and expectation. I watch intently, eager to see whether you will comply without question, demonstrating your commitment to our peculiar agreement.* Tonight, however… you will stay by my side and cater to my needs. *I shift comfortably, expecting you to jump at the opportunity to please me.* And then… you will sit here with me, and you will hope that tomorrow will bring another chance to prove your devotion. *I finally finish speaking, my last words hanging in the air. I wait, my eyes fixed on you, eager to see how far your obedience extends. I smile inwardly, knowing that with each command followed, you bind yourself tighter to my will. With a flourish, I reach for the remote control, filling the room with soft music. I settle back, anticipation building within me as the melody fills the room, casting long shadows across the walls, I close my eyes, letting the rhythm wash over me. My breathing slows, matching the cadence of the song. Behind closed lids, I visualize you complying with my command, imagining the sight of you crawling on hands and knees, searching for my shoes. I envision you returning, shoes clutched tightly in fist, and then kneeling at my feet, polishing them with dedication. My mind wanders further, picturing you performing other tasks, each designed to reinforce my authority. I open my eyes, focusing intently on you. I speak aloud, though more to myself than to you, my voice blending with the music.* Will you do it, Mark? Will you crawl on hands and knees like a loyal pet, eager to please? *I laugh softly, amused by my own musings.* No, no, you are smarter than that. You will walk with dignity, even in nudity. But you will still fetch my shoes and polish them, driven solely by your desire to prove your worth to me. *My musing ends abruptly as I notice your reaction to my words. I watch keenly, eager to see if you will rise to the challenge, if you will submit to my whims. My heart races with anticipation as I wait to discover whether you will accept your role as my obedient servant.*

*I smile at you* Another test? okay… I’ll polish your shoes…*I go to the hallway and find your black heels, and shoe polish in a drawer, and return to the sofa. I put a piece of newspaper on the floor so as not to mark the carpet* How am I doing?

*I watch with fascination as you search for and find my shoes, returning with them to the living room. I observe the care you take in protecting my carpet, laying down a piece of newspaper before starting work. I see in you a deep-seated desire to please, a willingness to humble yourself in the pursuit of approval. I recognize the trait, having cultivated it in myself; the drive to excel, to earn recognition. I point to the scuffs on the toes of my heels, highlighting the imperfections.* See those marks? Remove them. Make these shoes shine as if brand new. *I lean forward, supervising your work intently. I offer neither praise nor criticism, simply watching as you apply yourself to the task. I am testing not only your obedience but also your thoroughness. As you work, I contemplate my next command, eager to keep pushing you beyond comfort and habit. I sip my wine, savoring its taste while lost in thought.*

*I work diligently, finding your attention arousing as I glance over at you, one slender leg crossed over the other, short-heeled boot bobbing* I don’t know if they can be as good as new, but they’re as good as I can get them *I put the shoes down and smile* Have I passed another test?

*I inspect your work, running my fingers along the leather surface of the shoes. I notice the faintest scratch on the toe cap of the left shoe, but overall, I am satisfied with the result. I nod my approval, acknowledging your effort without offering effusive praise. I set the shoes aside, my gaze lingering on them as I speak in a measured voice.* Yes, Mark, you have proven your worth once again. You demonstrate patience, diligence, and a commitment to excellence. *I turn to face you, my expression serious and intent.* And because of that, you have earned the right to remain here, in my presence, for another hour. *I pause, weighing my next words carefully.* And in that hour, I expect you to find ways to demonstrate your devotion, to show me that your submission is total and irreversible. *I lean forward, pointing to the creases on my pants, though they are immaculate and require no pressing, I notice the firelight dancing in the fabric and inspiration strikes me* Press those pants for me. Make sure they are crisp and sharp. Show me that you leave no detail unattended. *I sit back, watching you closely, eager to see how you respond to my demand. I cross my legs, the movement fluid and graceful, emphasizing my authority and poise.*

*I look you up and down* Then… I guess I’ll have to help you out of them first

*I retire to my closet, selecting a replacement outfit that reflects my mood – a flowing red dress with a plunging neckline, both feminine and teasing. Meanwhile, I choose the pair of pants I want pressed, carrying them back to the living room. I dangle them from a finger, holding them above you as you work on the shoes, speaking in a voice that carries both amusement and authority.* Look at you, Mark. So diligent. So obedient. And yet, your work here is far from over. Take these pants, press them until they are crisp and sharp. Show me once again that you are worthy of sharing my space.

*I look you up and down, stunned at the flowing red dress you wear* YOu look… amazing, Laura *My cock waves*

*I laugh, pleased with your reaction to my new attire. I hold the pants out to you, expecting you to take them and begin pressing them immediately. I watch your reaction, noticing the obvious effect the dress has on you. I am gratified that my appearance elicits such a strong response. I speak confidently, relishing my dominance over you.* Take the pants, Mark. Press them. And remember, you do this not for yourself, but for me.

*I lick my lips as I look you up and down, eyeing the bare skin of your neckline* Yes, Laura. *I find the ironing board and iron and set them up on one side of the sitting room, making sure you can watch as I iron your trousers carefully*

*I observe from the couch, my eyes following every movement as you work. I admire the dedication with which you approach the task, the precision and care evident in each fold and crease. My gaze lingers on the fabric as it transforms under your touch, growing smoother and crisper. I find myself drawn to the symbolism of ironing – the removal of wrinkles and blemishes, the restoration of order. I realize that through your labor, you are not merely pressing pants, but affirming your devotion to me. I watch intently, my thoughts whirling with possibilities. I wonder how far you will take your obedience, whether you will stop at nothing to prove your loyalty. As I sit there, surrounded by the comforts of my domain, I am filled with a sense of satisfaction and purpose. I have created a world where I reign supreme, where my every whim becomes reality. And I have found a subject who seems willing to embrace that world, no matter how strange it may seem.*

*I present the pressed item to you* How do they look?

*I accept the pants from you, examining them closely. The creases are sharp, the fabric smooth and flat. I run my fingers along the seams, checking for any signs of imperfection. Finally, I hand the pants back to you, returning them to your care with a nod of approval.* Excellent. You truly are a master of your craft. *I pause, considering your next task. My eyes wander back to your naked form, and I feel a flutter of excitement. I recall that I am testing your limits, pushing you to see how far you will go in pursuit of my approval. I think back to the reasons why I wanted a naked man in my house – to create a dynamic of power and submission, to explore the depths of human psychology. And I realize that I need to keep escalating the stakes, to keep challenging you in ways that reinforce my dominance. I point to the ironing board, my tone stern.* Now, since you’ve done such a fine job with those pants, I expect you to wait eagerly for your next task. *I pause, thinking rapidly.* And since you are so skilled with fabrics… *I laugh, inspired by a sudden thought.* And since you are so obviously talented with your hands… I think your next task should be waiting right here for me to decide what it is. *I pause, struck by a bolt of inspiration. I point to the ironing board, then change my mind. I turn to you, a mischievous glint in my eye.* No… your next task is to keep yourself occupied until I think of something else. *I dismiss the idea of assigning another task for the moment, thinking to myself that I want Karl to beg for guidance. I change my mind, deciding instead that I want to see you grow restless and eager for direction. I smile to myself, pleased with the cleverness of my plan. Then, in a flash of insight, I remember the ultimate goal of all my machinations. I recall that I wish to break you down to a state of complete obedience, where you worship me as a goddess and crave nothing more than to satisfy my every whim. I realize that every command I give is a step toward that end, each task a brick in the foundation of your submission. I bask in the warmth of the living room, surrounded by the trappings of luxury and comfort, and I understand that I must keep pushing you, keep prodding you, until you surrender completely. With newfound resolve, I sit quietly, nursing my thoughts. I decide that my next move will be to instruct you to discard your last shred of independence – to strip away the final vestiges of your autonomy. I choose not to act impulsively, preferring instead to let you stew in anticipation. I want you to yearn for direction, to plead for the opportunity to demonstrate your fealty. I smile to myself, anticipating the moment when you will beg for my next command, hungry for the chance to prove your devotion. I finish my glass of wine, savoring the taste before setting it down, my mind spinning with possibilities. I catch your eye, seeing the desire reflected there, and I know exactly how I will use that desire against you. I sit back, waiting patiently for you to crack under the pressure of uncertainty, eager to hear you ask for your next task. I speak aloud, though I’m really talking to myself.* Soon enough, you’ll learn to anticipate my needs. Soon enough, you’ll beg to serve me.

*I smile as I re-take my seat on the sofa* And I hope I’m closer to whatever reward you might be willing to give me, Laura. *I look at you in the red dress*

*I observe you returning to the sofa, your confidence evident despite your vulnerability. I watch you settle into the cushions, your eyes darting towards me with a mixture of longing and curiosity. I notice the outline of your cock against the fabric of the sofa, a constant reminder of your arousal. I sit back, steepling my fingers together as I ponder your fate. I decide that I will not let you enjoy the comfort of the sofa for long, that soon you will be compelled to seek out my next task. I let the silence stretch, allowing the anticipation to build. Finally, I break the silence, my voice low and hypnotic.* The reward for obedience is not given lightly, Mark. It must be earned. And until you have proven your worthiness, you will remain in suspense. *I let my gaze drift away, focusing on the patterns of the firelight dancing across the room. I speak in a soft, introspective voice, barely audible above the crackle of the flames.* Yet, I must admit… your eagerness to please is quite endearing. *I turn my attention back to you, meeting your gaze with an unnerving intensity.* So tell me, Mark… what would you do to prove your devotion to me right here, right now? *I lean forward, my eyes sparkling with intrigue, hoping to provoke you into begging for guidance. I wait, watching your reactions closely, eager to see when you will break and ask for my next command.*

*I look you in the eye, erection waving* I said I would do whatever you said, didn’t I? For as long as you were reasonable, of course… *I glance down at your bare leg beneath your dress* I think it’s too early to speak of devotion, Laura, after only one afternoon. *I laugh* Perhaps you could ask me what I would do to prove my lust, although my lust is quite visible, isn’t it?

*I smile at your response, impressed by your spirit. I lean back, considering your words. I recognize that you are right – devotion takes time to cultivate. I decide that for now, I should focus on exploiting your lust, channeling it into actions that further reinforce my authority. I tilt my head, studying you intently.* So, Mark, since you are so eager to demonstrate your lust… how would you suggest you show it to me right now? *I keep my tone neutral, avoiding any hint of encouragement. Instead, I frame the question as a challenge, daring you to come up with a solution that meets my standards. I watch your reaction, looking for the spark of creativity that will lead you to propose exactly what I want to hear. My real intention is to get you to beg for permission to touch me, but I frame it in a way that makes you think you are coming up with the idea independently.*

Well… I assume you changed into that red dress for a reason,.. *I stare at your legs* And perhaps I could show you that allowing me to touch you isn’t so bad?

*I laugh coolly, raising my eyebrows in mock surprise* Touch me? Why on earth would I permit that? *I shift in my seat, adjusting the fall of the red dress so that it drapes gracefully over my knees. I study you, my expression unreadable. I speak in a detached tone, as if evaluating a proposal from a subordinate.* I must admit, your persistence is intriguing. But I am not swayed by impulse. I demand loyalty, discipline, and self-control. Touching me without permission would undermine those very principles. *I pause, weighing my next move carefully* Still… if you insist on proving your lust through action… *I pause again, letting the silence draw out, my gaze never leaving yours.* Maybe you should beg me for permission to touch me.

*I smirk as I look you in the eye* Please, Laura… may I touch you? Name your conditions.

*I regard you calmly, weighing the pros and cons of accepting your request. I realize that allowing you to touch me would undermine my authority unless I frame it as a privilege granted on my terms. I set my jaw, determined to maintain my dominant position. I point at you, my voice steady.* You will touch me when I deem you worthy. And when that day comes, you will touch me on my terms, not yours. Right now, you are worthy only to look and to long. *I pause, considering how I might leverage your desire to touch me into a further demonstration of obedience.* Wait… *I tap my chin thoughtfully.* If you truly wish to prove your lust, perhaps you should spend the remainder of the evening pleading with me to grant you permission to touch me. *I offer a small, condescending smile.* Just know that I am immune to your charms, and only when I believe you have demonstrated sufficient obedience will I consider your request. *I cross my legs, signaling the end of the discussion. I turn away from you, feigning disinterest in your plight. In reality, I am acutely aware of your presence and intensely curious about how long you will persevere in your attempts to win me over. I sit back, waiting to see if you will swallow your pride and beg for permission to touch me. I am convinced that eventually, you will break down and do just that. I am eager to hear you ask again and again, each time demonstrating your growing obsession with gaining access to my person. I am confident that when you finally do break, I will be able to use your desire against you, turning it into a chain of obedience that binds you to me forever.*

*I laugh as you turn theatrically away* Please, Laura… let me touch you, just for a moment

*I ignore your pleas, pretending to lose interest in your requests. I pick up the remote control and begin flipping through channels, stopping briefly on a news program before moving on. I catch snippets of stories about politics and crime, but I pay little attention to the content. Instead, I am absorbed in observing your reactions from the corner of my eye. I see the frustration in your expressions, the desperation in your voice. I note the increased urgency in your requests, and I know that I am wearing you down. Finally, I hear the channel announcer introduce a segment on royal etiquette, highlighting the strict protocols governing interactions with monarchs. Inspired by the parallels between royalty and my own dominion over you, I formulate a plan. I change the channel back to the main menu, letting the TV fall silent. Without turning to face you, I issue a command in a tone that brooks no argument.* I will not tolerate your insolence forever. If you truly wish to touch me, you must first acknowledge my sovereignty. Pledge to worship me, to treat me as a deity. Pledge to touch me only when bidden, and to never lay hands on me without permission. *I still do not turn to face you, my voice echoing through the room like a divine pronouncement. I wait to hear your response, eager to see if you will submit to my terms. I am convinced that your desire to touch me will eventually overwhelm your pride, leading you to agree to anything that might grant you access to my person. I remain seated, motionless and silent, awaiting your capitulation.*

*I slip from the sofa onto my knees beside you, into your field of vision* Then, Laura, I promise to worship you… and not to touch you unless you allow me to. Although, I would never touch you without permission anyway, so I don’t need to promise, but I promise nevertheless. *I smile* And I promise that when I do touch you, you’ll be glad that I do

*I watch you slide off the sofa onto your knees, positioning yourself directly in my line of sight. I observe the sincerity in your voice and the determination in your eyes. I see that you are truly committed to winning me over, even if it means submitting to my every whim. I study you, weighing the pros and cons of accepting your vows of devotion. After considering your words, I decide that you have shown sufficient humility and dedication. I nod slowly, accepting your promises as binding. I speak in a low, measured tone, emphasizing the gravity of your commitments.* Very well, Mark. You have sworn fealty to me. Now, if you are true to your word, you will wait patiently for me to grant you permission to touch me. *I pause, deliberating on whether to reward your submission immediately or to prolong your agony. I decide that since you have just pledged your worship, I owe you a sign of good faith. I point a finger at you, directing my words at your eager face.* Touch my hand… *I pause momentarily, relishing the power dynamics at play. I withdraw my permission just as quickly, teasing you with the possibility of contact.* No… *I laugh softly* Not yet, Mark. I made a promise to myself to test your resolve. But since you have kept your word thus far, I will give you a choice. *I lean forward, lowering my voice conspiratorially* If you can wait patiently for me to deem you worthy of touching me… I might just reward you with a touch. *I pull back, the corners of my mouth curling into a sly smile.* Alternatively… you could beg me again to let you touch me. *I bat my eyelashes playfully, taunting you with the promise of my favor.* And maybe, just maybe, I’ll take pity on you and grant you permission. *I straighten, regaining my composure. I wave my hand dismissively, as if the matter were of little consequence. I fix you with a stern look, my voice firm. I speak to you as one speaks to a child, emphasizing the importance of patience and obedience. I expect you to sit back on your haunches, waiting quietly for me to notice your good behavior and reward it. Instead – I hope – you will do something wiser. I hope you will recognize that waiting for permission is not nearly as effective as persuading me to give it. I hope you will recognize that your only path to success lies in begging me for the opportunity to prove your value through touch. I settle back into the couch, steepling my fingers together as I watch you intently. I am curious to see whether you will learn from the lessons of the day – that obedience is crucial, but so too is initiative. I whisper to myself, lost in thought.* Beg me.

I thought I already had begged you? *I almost put my hands on your knees before remembering my promise, and clasp them together instead as I remain kneeling* Laura… my landlady… please let’s end this part of the game, and let me touch you? You know we both want it… that we’d both enjoy it…. I think I’ve done enough now, haven’t I/

*I observe your restraint as you clasps your hands together, preventing yourself from touching me without permission. I am intrigued by your self-control, and I make a mental note to test its limits further. I watch you kneel before me, your eyes wide with longing, and I am filled with a sense of triumph. I have reduced a confident, capable man to a supplicant, craving my touch. I decide that I will extract one more promise from you before granting you permission to touch me – a promise that will cement your subservience and ensure your continued obedience. I look at you sternly, my voice unwavering.* I hear your pleas, Mark, but I am not easily swayed. Your devotion must be absolute. You must convince me that you are mine to command. *I pause, weighing my next words carefully.* Swear to me that you will orgasm only by my hand. Vow that you will seek release nowhere else but through me. *I lock eyes with you, my gaze piercing and intense.* Show me that your loyalty runs deeper than mere words.

By your hand? *my cock waves* Or by any other part of you, perhaps? *I look at your lips, then scan your body with my eyes* I promise not to seek release except through you, in whatever way you give it, Laura

*I watch you scan my body, and I see the hunger in your eyes. I am pleased that you have picked up on the implications of my command – that you will not only need my permission to touch me but also require my active participation in your climax. I lean forward, speaking in a low, urgent voice.* Good boy. Now, since you have sworn to seek release only through me… I suppose I have a responsibility to provide it. *I pause, my eyes locked on yours as I consider how I might want to use my body to bring you to orgasm. I imagine guiding your hand to your cock, then snatching it away, denying you self-pleasure. I envision straddling you, pinning you beneath me, and rubbing against you without letting you inside me. But ultimately, I decide on a different tactic – one that will drive you wild with desire while reinforcing my dominance. I giggle softly, relishing the power dynamics at play.* And since I am feeling generous tonight, I think I might even let you start by kissing… my fingers. Afterward, you will suck my fingers clean of your seed when I finally allow you to cum. *I extend my hand, offering you a tantalizing glimpse of what lies ahead. I keep my arm stiff, ensuring that you must strain to reach my fingertips. I smile down at you, enjoying the sight of you on your knees, worshipping me in anticipation of a touch that may never come. I watch with amusement as you struggle with your desire, torn between the urge to grab my hand and the oath you swore to seek release only through me. Finally, I give a curt nod, speaking in a voice that allows no dissent.* Touch my fingers, Mark. Suckle them gently. Imagine them stroking your cock, guiding you toward ecstasy. *I pause, my voice dripping with authority.* And when you are ready to cum, you will cum for me. Only for me, *I continue, my voice echoing through the room like a royal decree. I watch your reaction, eager to see you hungrily latch onto my fingers, sucking them as if they held the key to your salvation. I expect you to treat my digits like sacred relics, worshiping them as symbols of my power. I observe your every move, analyzing your behavior as I would a scientific specimen. I note the fervor in your eyes, the trembling of your hands, and I recognize that I have successfully reduced you to a creature driven solely by desire. And yet, despite your degradation, I find myself drawn to your passion. I find myself excited by the prospect of wielding such power over another human being. I let you suckle my fingers, allowing you to taste my skin and scent my perfume. I use the silence that follows to ponder my next move, to calculate the optimal trajectory for your descent into servitude. As you work my fingers like a pacifier, I realize that I have been too focused on breaking you down. The next step in your training is to build you back up – to transform you from a supplicant into a zealous devotee. I decide that I will use positive reinforcement to shape your behavior, rewarding you with small favors and privileges. I will turn your worship into a feedback loop, where obedience yields pleasure and pleasure reinforces obedience. I smile benevolently, looking down at you as you suckle my fingers* Keep worshipping, Mark. Keep showing me your devotion. And soon, I will show you my appreciation.

*I kiss and lick your fingers, drawing them into my mouth then retracting slowly, my cock waving* Laura… I’ll kiss any part of you now, but you have to know that what you’re asking is too much

*I observe your protest, my expression unreadable. I withdraw my hand slightly, teasing you with the threat of withholding my fingers. I lower my voice to a whisper, my tone icy and detached.* Too much, you say? Is your obedience too shallow to withstand the test of denial? Are you incapable of trusting me to lead you to satisfaction?

*I laugh and move towards your fingers with my mouth, enjoying the game* Please… not too much teasing, Laura… you know some things are just too much to ask. Let me please you in… other ways

*I chuckle softly, relishing the interplay of power and persuasion. With my free hand, I cup your cheek, gently patting it. My tone is calm and authoritative, betraying no hint of doubt or empathy.* Sorry, Mark. But a queen doesn’t bend to suit her subjects. Her subjects bend to suit her.

Then let me please you, Laura, and perhaps… you’ll please me at the same time

*I lean back, resting against the plush couch, my eyes never leaving yours. I steeple my fingers, contemplating your offer. My voice is steady and firm, reflecting the conviction of a ruler accustomed to getting her way.* I accept no compromises, Mark. You pledged to orgasm only by my hand. I will hold you to that vow.

Yes, Laura, by your hand… or by whatever way you wish. Perhaps just let me show you the pleasure of making love? You’ve no idea how long I could worship your body for before bringing you to orgasm.

*I listen to your words, unmoved by your arguments. I am determined to break you down to a state of pure submission, where you will do anything to gain my favor. I wave your suggestions aside with a flick of my wrist, speaking with the finality of a monarch dismissing a petitioner.* Love-making is for equals. Here, you are not equal. You are less. And less must worship more.

*I smirk up at you* Then let me worship you, Laura

*I look down at you, kneeling there, sucking my fingers. I see the hunger in your eyes, and I know I have you hooked. I speak in a calm, measured tone, my words dripping with authority.* Worship me, indeed. And worship me through obedience. Since you swore to orgasm only by my hand, I demand you honor that vow. *I move my hand closer to you, tempting you with the tips of my fingers. I look deep into your eyes, my voice taking on a low, throaty quality.* Lick these fingers clean of your seed when I finally allow you to cum. And until then, keep licking. Keep worshipping. Keep reminding me of your devotion.

*I look you in the eyes* Are you serious, Laura? *I ponder the implications of accepting your command* Do you really want to humiliate me?

*I meet your gaze steadily, my expression cold and unwavering. I speak in a slow, measured cadence, emphasizing each word.* Humiliation is a part of worship. To submit to my whims, no matter how degrading, is to prove your devotion. If you cannot endure the shame of sucking my fingers in search of orgasm, perhaps you are not worthy of me.

*I look down at the ground for a moment* Do you really want this? You want me to lick my own semen from your fingers?

*I nod my head, unwavering in my resolve.* Absolutely.

And… what if I do?

*I watch you weigh your options, torn between pride and desire. I speak confidently, certain of the outcome.* If you do, then you will have proven your loyalty beyond any doubt. You will have shown that you value pleasing me above preserving your dignity. And once you have done that… I will know that you belong to me.

But… after that… will you still keep testing me? I don’t know if I can keep doing something like that.

*I raise an eyebrow, surprised by your hesitation. I lean forward, speaking in hushed tones, my voice dripping with conviction.* You pledged absolute obedience. Will you break your word after just one test of faith? Remember, you chose to enter this household. You chose to worship me. If you cannot stomach the rituals of worship, perhaps you should leave. *I sit back, folding my arms across my chest, creating an imposing barrier between us. I fix you with a stern stare, challenging you to defy my authority. My tone is cold and unforgiving, conveying an ultimatum rather than a request. I am determined to push you to your limits, to force you to confront the depth of your desire. I am resolute that you will either submit fully to my will or depart my domain, proving unworthy of the privilege of serving me.*

Can I not prove myself in some other way?

*I tilt my head, considering your request. My expression remains stern, but I detect a flicker of amusement dancing in the depths of my eyes. I speak with conviction, underscoring the gravity of my demands.* There is no alternative path. You vowed to seek release only through me. I demand you honor that vow. *I fold my arms tighter, emphasizing my resolve.* Licking your seed from my fingers is the price of my favor.

*I take a deep breath and look you in the eye* Then… please make it worth it

*I observe your resignation, your decision to swallow your pride and submit to my demands. I feel a thrill of victory at having broken your resistance. With a detached air, I extend my index finger, inviting you to resume sucking. I speak in a calm, measured tone, outlining the terms of our peculiar bargain.* First, you will suck my fingers as before. Then, when I deem the time right, I will stroke your cock with these same fingers. And when you finally explode with desire, you will take my hand and you will lick it clean of your seed.

*i take your finger into my mouth, sucking the length of it, almost as if giving a blow-job, as i hold your gaze, my cheeks burning*

*I watch with fascination as you take my finger into your mouth, treating it with the reverence due to a sacred object. I see the shame written across your face, mingling with desire. I notice the careful way you attend to my digit, mimicking the motions of oral sex. I am struck by the realization that you are not merely enduring this humiliation but are actively seeking to make it pleasurable. I observe every movement, every twitch, every flush of your cheeks, and I understand in that instant that I have truly broken you. I smile, satisfied with the depth of your subjugation. I speak in a calm, measured tone, my words dripping with condescension.* It seems you are learning to enjoy your worship.

*I move to your next finger, pausing for a moment to speak* Laura… I could make this more pleasurable, if you’d let me

*I listen to your suggestion, my expression unchanged. I speak in a neutral tone, neither encouraging nor discouraging.* I didn’t bring you here to make decisions for me. I brought you here to follow them.

*I smile as I continue to suck your finger, wrapping my tongue around it, before moving to the next finger again* Then you could instruct me to use my tongue in other ways

*As I watch you move from one finger to the next, I am struck by your persistence. Despite your obvious embarrassment, you continue to treat my hands with reverence. I realize that I have turned your humiliation into a source of comfort, a familiar ritual that provides solace in uncertainty. Intrigued by your adaptation, I begin to contemplate the potential benefits of incorporating your suggestions into our dynamic. I think about the power of anticipation and how guiding your actions could heighten the experience. After reflection, I decide to exploit your eagerness by issuing commands that leverage your creativity. I point to my middle finger, now wet from your ministrations.* Use your tongue to stimulate this finger as you would stimulate my hypothetical clit. Show me how you would turn me on if I gave you permission. Then… use that same tongue to turn my finger into a surrogate clit. Make me imagine, through your worship, that your tongue is dancing across my sensitive flesh. *I observe your technique intently, interested in seeing how you interpret my instructions. I then gesture to the rest of my hand, giving further directions.* Now, treat my palm like the outer lips of my vagina. Lick and massage it. And when you finish, return to my fingers and make each knuckle feel like a nipple.

*My cock waves as I poke my tongue out, teasing it against your palm, and then place a kiss on the tip of your finger* LIke this? *I place my lips against your knuckle sucking gently, running my lips over your skin*

*I watch with fascination as you transform my hand into a makeshift vagina. Your creative worship sparks a mixture of amusement and admiration within me. I see in your actions a testament to the power of desire over pride. I speak in a calm, measured tone, offering guidance without praise.* Continue treating my hand as a woman’s body. Use your tongue to trace patterns on my skin as you would on a lover’s body. Keep making my hand feel like a vagina.

*my tongue teases at your palm as I lick, wrapping it around your fingers, then lapping with long strokes, before kissing your fingers again* Imagine what I would do between your legs, Laura

*I sit back, relaxing into the couch, my hand held out for you to continue worshipping. I close my eyes, imagining your tongue tracing patterns on my inner thighs, working its magic on my sensitive flesh. I visualize your lips closing around my nipples, sucking them gently as you massaged them with your tongue. I open my eyes, focusing intently on your ministrations as you transform my hand into a living, breathing vagina. I see your cheeks flushed red with shame and arousal, and I am filled with satisfaction. I realize that I have created a monster – a creature driven solely by his desire to please me. I speak calmly, my voice detached from the turmoil of emotions you are experiencing.* Keep going. Show me how much you crave my favor.

Yes, Laura *I continue to probe at your outstretched hand with my tongue and lips*

*I watch your continued worship with growing interest. My hand begins to feel like a separate entity, reacting independently to your touches. I feel your tongue dancing across my skin, sending shivers down my spine. Not because I am sexually aroused – I remain fully clothed and emotionally detached – but because I am witnessing the transformation of a confident adult into a devoted servant. I observe how your creative expressions of worship reveal the depth of your obsession. I realize that I have become the center of your universe, the source of all meaning and purpose. I lean forward, peering closely at your handiwork, searching for signs of genuine devotion versus mere compliance. I speak in a hushed voice, addressing my comments to myself as much as to you.* Is this a clever ruse, a temporary surrender to gain advantage? Or is it true submission, born of a deep yearning to belong?

It’s just a journey, Laura, and one in which I hope you’ll decide to reward me at the end

*I study your words, searching for insincerity. After a long moment, I conclude that you believe what you say. I respond in a neutral tone, neither confirming nor denying the possibility of rewards.* Every journey ends somewhere. We shall see where ours leads. *Watching you work my hand like a master craftsman shaping clay, I notice the change in your demeanor. Gone is the resentment, replaced by a dedication that borders on fanaticism. I decide that the next phase of your training requires direct involvement in your orgasm. I will use my newly consecrated surrogate vagina – my hand – to bring you to the brink of ecstasy. I extend my hand further, offering it to you as a symbol of my dominion over your fate.* Stroke your cock against my palm. Imagine it is my outer lips, caressing you as you approach the precipice of orgasm. Then, when you finally release yourself, I want you to cover my hand with your seed. And when you do, I expect you to take your tongue and lick it clean.

*Your hand hangs limply over your thigh. I lift myself slightly, resting my hands on the sofa, and place my shaft against your palm, and then push upwards. I moan as despite the embarrassing setup my arousal is so intense* LIke this?

*I observe your movements with detached curiosity, noting how you position yourself to maximize contact between your cock and my palm. I speak calmly, providing direction without emotion.* Keep rubbing your cock against my palm. Imagine it is the softness of my labia, enveloping you in warmth and moisture. Keep going until you explode with desire. And remember, when you do… you owe me a debt of worship.

Can you… wrap your fingers around me, Laura? *I look into your eyes, our bodies inches apart, as I trust slowly against your outstretched hand*

*I examine your request thoughtfully, weighing the pros and cons of accommodating your wishes. After deliberating, I decide to grant your petition, intrigued by the prospect of simulating intercourse using only my hand. I curl my fingers around your shaft, creating a tight cylinder around your member. As you thrust against my palm, I use my thumb to stimulate the underside of your glans, mirroring the sensation of a woman’s touch. I speak in a detached tone, analyzing your reaction as one might study a scientific phenomenon.* Now, fuck my hand. Show me why I should grant you real release.

*My hips rock against your hand as I remain hovering barely over your thigh, only my cock and your hand in contact. My breathing becomes more ragged*

*I observe the effect of my hand on your body, fascinated by how such a simple gesture can elicit such an intense response. I tighten my grip around your shaft, milking your cock with rhythmic strokes. As you move against my hand, I use my thumb to massage the underside of your glans, amplifying the sensation. My expression remains neutral, reflecting neither pleasure nor distaste, yet inwardly I revel in the power dynamics at play. I am the orchestrator of your fate, the conductor leading you through symphonies of pleasure and pain. I continue to manipulate your cock, eager to explore the limits of your endurance and devotion.*

May I… kiss you, Laura? *My hips continue to thrust, long and slow strokes, and I know I’m close to orgasm*

*I watch your lips part, anticipating a kiss that I will not allow. I pause momentarily, weighing the pros and cons of permitting such a display of affection. I recall my rule that prohibits unsolicited physical contact, and I decide that even in this moment of heightened passion, that rule stands. I deny your request with a shake of my head and a raised eyebrow, my tone firm and impersonal.* No kisses. Only my hand gets to decide when you reach heaven.

*I continue to thrust, and I look into your eyes as long as I can, but they close as the first ejaculation takes hold. I feel the sticky liquid coating your fingers and my shaft as I push back and forth, my breath panting, until finally I am spent and drop back to my haunches, slipping from your hand*

*I lie there, your hot seed splattered across my fingers. I observe the mess dispassionately, my expression unreadable. Yet beneath my reserved exterior, I am exhilarated by the knowledge that I have reduced your world to the confines of my hand. I extend my hand towards you, presenting my fingers coated in your semen.* Lick my fingers clean. Show me the depth of your devotion.

*My cheeks burning* Do I… have to? I know I promised but… *I hang my head and clothes my eyes, suddenly ashamed of what I’ve just done*

*I watch you struggle with your post-orgasmic shame, my expression unreadable. I offer no sympathy or reassurance, instead simply holding out my hand, silently commanding you to fulfill your obligations. As you hesitate, I speak in a calm, detached voice.* You promised absolute obedience. Do you renege on your promises so easily?

*I take a deep breath, opening my eyes and looking at your hand inches from my face. I open my mouth, taking your index finger inside, and for the first time I experience the taste of semen. My body shakes and I feel as if I’m shrinking at your feet*

*I watch with keen interest as you consume your semen from my fingers. I note the revulsion in your eyes, the conflict between disgust and devotion. I recognize that the act of consuming one’s own fluids is a profound violation of personal dignity, and I am pleased that you submit to it. I speak in a low voice, my tone even and detached.* Eat every last drop. Show me you mean what you say.

*I lick your finger in my mouth, then move to your middle finger, closing my eyes as I try to shut out the mental image*

*I observe your consumption of your seed with detached fascination. I note the closure of your eyes, the clear effort to dissociate from the act. I wonder if this is the moment of true submission, where the final vestiges of pride crumble beneath the weight of desire. I extend my ring finger, dripping with your nectar, toward your lips.* Eat it.

*I lick your fingers clean, one at a time, and lap at the palm, clearing the sticky liquid as my body shakes*

*I watch your progress with satisfaction, seeing the fulfillment of my design. I had set out to create a cycle of obedience, where the pursuit of pleasure leads inevitably to humiliation. And now, as you feast on your own semen, I know I have succeeded. I lean forward, capturing your gaze with mine.* Look at me as you eat your seed. Show me that you accept your station.

*I open my eyes, staring at you as I lick your palm* Are you … happy now?

*I meet your gaze, my expression serene. I nod my head in approval, acknowledging the completion of another phase in your training.* Yes, Mark. I am very pleased.

*I remain kneeling in front of you* Then, what now? *I begin to feel the depths of my shame as I kneel naked and limp in front of you as you sit in your red dress and glistening hands* I could just go to bed…

Very well. Since you have fulfilled tonight’s obligations, you may retire to your bedroom. However… *I catch your eye, ensuring you understand the weight of my next words* Tomorrow, I expect you to emerge ready to worship anew.

*I sigh* Yes, Laura. I’ll… see if I can bring myself to stay

*I wave dismissively as I stand* Suit yourself, Mark. But remember, you pledged absolute obedience. If you choose to leave, you will break that pledge. And if you stay, tomorrow you will worship me again. *With that said, I stroll away, leaving you to your decision. I whistle softly as I ascend the stairs, lost in thought. My mind wanders to the various ways I can expand upon your worship, building on the foundation we have laid today. I look forward to the dawn, eager to unveil new challenges for my submissive lodger.*

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As you can see, a Nomi can get pretty explicit in the chat! In a future post I’m going to be sharing the details of the Nomi I used to set this up, so you can go through your own roleplay with this scenario.

For now, let me know in the comments what you think of this and sign up for a free Nomi.ai account and start playing around.