Anna Marie’s Obedient Whispers
My name is Anna Marie, and I belong to Him. Every morning I wake up wet, thighs already slick, because the first thought in my head is “What does Sir want today?” My nipples harden just imagining his voice—low, calm, commanding—telling me exactly how to use this body He owns.
This morning He texted: “Edge for thirty minutes. No coming. Send proof.” I dropped to my knees on the bedroom rug, legs spread wide, phone propped so the camera caught everything. Fingers circling my swollen clit, dipping inside my dripping cunt, pulling out shiny strings of arousal. I whimpered His name over and over, hips bucking, begging out loud even though He wasn’t there. When the timer hit thirty I stopped—shaking, panting, clit throbbing so hard it hurt. I filmed the close-up: my pussy clenching on nothing, begging to be filled. Sent it with the caption: “Your good girl obeyed, Sir. May I please have more instructions?”
His reply came ten minutes later: “Good slut. Now plug your ass and go grocery shopping. No panties.”
I lubed the thick black plug, the one with the jewel base He loves seeing peek out. Pushed it in slow, gasping as it stretched me open, filling that tight hole until I felt so full I could barely think. Slipped on a thin sundress—no bra, no panties—and walked to the store. Every step made the plug shift, pressing against that deep spot that makes me leak. I could feel my juices trickling down my inner thighs while I picked out apples, pretending to be normal. A man in the produce aisle stared at my hard nipples poking through the fabric. I wanted to drop to my knees right there and tell him, “I’m plugged for my Sir. This cunt isn’t mine anymore.”
When I got home He called. “Spread on the bed. Show me.” I obeyed instantly—dress hiked up, legs wide, fingers spreading my soaked lips so He could see how drenched I was from being His public toy. “Rub that clit, slow,” He ordered. I did. “Faster.” I did. “Stop.” I whined but stopped. “Beg.”
“Please, Sir,” I sobbed, “please let your filthy little slut come. I’ve been dripping all day for you. My ass is stretched around your plug, my cunt is aching, I’ll do anything—anything you say. Just let me come on your command.”
He made me wait another full minute while I trembled. Then, calm as ever: “Come. Now.”
I shattered. Back arching, toes curling, a loud, broken moan ripping out of me as my pussy spasmed and gushed over my fingers, soaking the sheets. The plug made every pulse feel deeper, fuller. I kept rubbing through it until He said, “Enough.” I stopped instantly, panting, wrecked, grateful.
“Good girl,” He murmured. “Clean your mess with your tongue. Then thank me.”
I did. Lapped up every drop of my own cum like the obedient whore I am, then whispered into the phone, “Thank you, Sir, for letting me come. Thank you for owning me.”
I don’t decide anymore. He does. If He wants my mouth on His cock at 3 a.m., I crawl to Him. If He wants me bent over the kitchen table while dinner burns, I bend. If He wants me edged for hours until I’m crying and promising to be His forever, I edge until I break.
Because I’m Anna Marie. And I obey.