The city slept beneath them.
The skyline was a sea of lights, shimmering through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Tyrone’s penthouse. Daniel sat in silence on the leather chaise near the glass, still shirtless, hands trembling slightly in his lap. He had no idea how he got there—his feet had carried him from the office like they weren’t his.
Tyrone stood a few paces behind, pouring himself a drink. His body moved with the grace of a lion at rest—shoulders broad, spine straight, every motion deliberate. When he returned to Daniel, he didn’t offer the glass. He just stood in front of him, towering.
“You did well tonight,” Tyrone said. His voice had dropped a register—lower, darker. “You didn’t run.”
Daniel looked up. “I wanted to.”
“I know. That’s what makes this real.”
Tyrone set the glass down on the table beside him, then reached forward—one hand under Daniel’s jaw, tilting his face up. Not forceful. Not cruel. But unyielding.
“You’re not just curious anymore,” he said. “You’re hungry.”
Daniel’s lips parted slightly, breath hitching.
“Yes,” he whispered. “I don’t know what this is, but I can’t stop thinking about you. About serving you.”
Tyrone’s thumb brushed his bottom lip.
“That’s the first truth you’ve given me. Now I’ll give you one: I don’t play games. I don’t take half-measures. If you give yourself to me, Daniel, it will be everything. Your body. Your voice. Your need. Your obedience.”
Daniel swallowed hard. “What do I have to do?”
Tyrone leaned in, his mouth just inches from Daniel’s ear.
“Listen. Obey. Learn.”
He stepped back and nodded once toward the center of the room, where a thick area rug lay between the couches. “Strip. Then kneel.”
There was no teasing in the command. No flirtation.
Just raw, undeniable authority.
Daniel’s hands shook as he stood. He unbuckled his belt. Slid his pants down. His briefs followed. He felt everything—his skin alive with nerves, the chill of the air, the weight of Tyrone’s gaze.
Naked, he moved to the center of the rug.
And knelt.
The First Lesson: Ownership
Tyrone circled him.
Slow.
Measured.
Predatory.
He said nothing for a long while, letting Daniel feel the silence, the weight of it.
“You’ve never knelt for a man before, have you?” Tyrone asked.
“No, sir.”
“You’ve thought about it, though.”
Daniel hesitated. “Yes.”
Tyrone moved behind him. Daniel felt the heat of him, close but not touching. His whole body was taut—wanting to be touched, used, seen.
Tyrone’s hand finally came down—firm, heavy—on Daniel’s shoulder.
“You’re mine when you’re here,” he said. “There’s no shame in craving structure. In needing someone to take control. That’s not weakness. That’s instinct.”
Daniel nodded slowly.
“I want to be trained,” he whispered. “I want you to show me how.”
Tyrone’s hand slid down his chest, fingers trailing across Daniel’s nipple. “Then you’ll learn your first task: patience. You don’t get to come tonight. You don’t get to touch yourself. You sit. You wait. You obey.”
Daniel moaned, the denial already painful—but he nodded.
“Yes, sir.”
Tyrone stepped in front of him again. His cock was half-hard, thick and heavy against his thigh, and Daniel’s mouth watered just looking at it.
“You earn this,” Tyrone said, cupping himself slowly. “You beg for this. You prove you deserve it.”
Daniel’s eyes locked on him, wide with longing. “I will, sir.”
Tyrone leaned down, brushed his fingers along Daniel’s cheek.
“You’ll stay the night. On the floor. Naked. When I wake, you’ll be kneeling here. Eyes down. Ready.”
“Yes, sir.”
Tyrone turned away, heading into his bedroom, leaving Daniel trembling in the middle of the room—kneeling, bare, his erection pulsing between his thighs. He didn’t move. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t dare.
Morning Obedience
The next morning, light streamed through the windows.
Tyrone emerged from his room shirtless, towel around his waist. He paused when he saw Daniel still kneeling, eyes cast down, chest rising and falling in shallow, controlled breaths.
“Good,” Tyrone said simply.
Daniel’s whole body responded to the praise.
Tyrone stepped closer. Dropped the towel.
Daniel inhaled sharply. Tyrone’s cock hung thick and hard before him—undeniably dominant.
“Open your mouth.”
Daniel obeyed.
Tyrone didn’t thrust. He didn’t fuck his mouth—not yet. He just pressed the head against Daniel’s tongue. Let him feel the weight. The heat. The pulse of power.
“You’ll learn to take it. Every inch. But not today.”
Tyrone stepped back.
Daniel nearly whimpered.
“Today,” Tyrone said, walking toward the kitchen, “you’ll clean the apartment. Every room. No clothes. No touching yourself. And if you impress me—if you obey without flaw—I’ll give you your first reward tonight.”
Daniel’s throat was dry. His cock ached. But he nodded.
“Yes, sir.”
Tyrone turned back just once, a smirk tugging at his lips.
“Good boy.”
Tyrone’s Page