By KBC Associate 
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Philip Cartwright was powerful. Feared. The kind of man who could silence a room with a look.
But not with me.
I closed the door behind me, the soft click punctuating the charged silence. He knew better than to look up immediately, though I could see the tension ripple through his shoulders, the way his fingers stilled against the polished desk. He was waiting—waiting for my voice, waiting for my command.
I let the silence stretch.
“You’re late,” I said finally, my tone measured, steady.
He swallowed. “I—”
I raised an eyebrow, and he cut himself off. He knew better than to offer excuses.
I stepped forward, my heels clicking deliberately against the floor, each step slow, controlled. He exhaled sharply when I stopped in front of his desk, but still, he didn’t look up. He was trying to hold onto that last shred of control, the illusion of power he carried so well during the day.
I smiled. How precious.
“Look at me,” I commanded.
His gaze lifted immediately, his blue eyes locking onto mine. The tension between us thickened. He was holding his breath now, waiting, balancing on the edge.
I took my time, letting my eyes trail over him. The expensive suit, the tie knotted so neatly at his throat, the way his hands curled against the armrests of his chair—so disciplined. So restrained.
But I could break that. I always did.
“You work so hard,” I murmured, moving around the desk. His shoulders stiffened, his body going rigid as I came to stand behind him. “All day, you’re the one giving orders, making decisions, controlling everything around you.”
I leaned down, my lips just barely grazing his ear. “But we both know that’s not who you really are, do we?”
His breath hitched. I smiled.
Straightening, I walked back around to face him. He kept his eyes on me, but I saw the hesitation, the internal war playing out behind them. He wanted this—craved it—but still fought to hold onto his last fragment of control.
I reached down, gripping his tie between my fingers, pulling just slightly. Just enough to make him feel it.
“You want to give it up, don’t you?” I said, my voice soft but firm. His lips parted, his throat working as he swallowed.
“You want to let go,” I continued, trailing a single fingertip down the silk of his tie. “To stop pretending. To let me take control.”
I tilted my head, holding his gaze. “Don’t you?”
He hesitated—just a breath—then, “Yes.”
I arched an eyebrow.
“Yes, ma’am,” he corrected quickly.
I smirked, releasing his tie. “That’s better.”
His hands tightened on the arms of the chair, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. He was unraveling, and I was enjoying every second of it.
I trailed my fingers along his jaw, tilting his chin up just slightly. “Unbutton your jacket,” I commanded.
A pause, a flicker of resistance—then he obeyed, his fingers moving to the buttons, slipping them free one by one.
I leaned down, my lips hovering just over his ear. “Good boy.”
His whole body shuddered.
I pulled back, watching his pupils dilate, the flush creeping up his neck. “Do you like that?” I asked, tilting my head.
He swallowed hard. “Yes, ma’am.”
My smile deepened. “I thought so.”
I leaned against the edge of the desk, watching him shift under my gaze. He was already so undone, and I had barely touched him.
“All day, you wear that mask,” I mused, running a single nail down the length of his tie. “The powerful CEO. The untouchable man. But here—” I tugged the tie just slightly, watching his breath catch. “Here, you belong to me.”
He shivered.
“You don’t have to think,” I continued, my voice softer now, soothing. “You don’t have to decide. You just have to obey.
His hands flexed against the armrests, his knuckles white.
“Tell me you understand,” I said.
“I understand,” he breathed.
“Words, Philip,” I reminded him.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good.”
I reached down, undoing the first button of his shirt, slow and deliberate. He made a soft, strangled sound, but didn’t stop me.
“See?” I murmured. “Much better when you let me take control.”
His lips parted, his breath uneven.
I leaned in, my lips just ghosting over the shell of his ear. “And you’re going to sit there and take it, aren’t you?”
He nodded, his hands gripping the arms of the chair as if anchoring himself.
“Words.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he whispered. I smiled against his skin.
“That’s a good pet.”
And just like that, the powerful CEO was mine.