This Seat Wasn’t Made for You—But She Was
“You don’t make a very good chair. But you’re learning.” She didn’t tell him she was going
Obey
Stories of command, discipline, and the quiet violence of compliance. This is where your mouth closes, your head lowers, and her voice becomes law. You don’t choose obedience. It chooses you—slowly, then all at once. This isn’t about following rules. It’s about dissolving in them. Her voice becomes instinct. Her silence becomes command. And you? You become less.
5 stories
Speak Only When Her Feet Allow It
“You breathe when I lift my foot. Not before.” He thought silence was safety. He thought if he didn’t
The Longer She Stands, The Less You Are
“Every second I stand here, there’s less of you.” He didn’t know the table had a mirrored underside.
His Mouth, Her Shoes
“I lift my heel from your face, not to spare you—only to make you kiss it properly.” You’re
Kneel Without Being Told
“If you need instructions to kneel, you’re already worthless.” You are not here by accident. You clicked. You opened.