Dominance & Submission Basics (Clothing & Orgasm Control / Humiliation)

Terralthra makes the rules. Ransom follows them, and the tension sits right between his throat and his zipper. First, the clothing. He tells the slave what to wear, what to take off, how slow to move when he does it. Every choice lands like a hand on the back of the neck, pushing him lower without a word. Then the hand between Ransom's legs moves only when Terralthra says it can. No faster. No slower. He keeps his eyes on the floor while his own fist works at his cock, hard and humiliated and exactly the way he's told. Pleasure stops when the command cuts through the room. It starts again when silence returns. Nothing belongs to the slave tonight, not the clothes on his back or the orgasm that builds and dies at the edge of his breath. Just the sound of Terralthra's voice, and the ache it leaves behind.