The dim glow of amber lanterns hung low over the crowded London pub, casting flickering shadows across worn oak tables and the faint haze of spilled ale that clung to the air like a secret. Laughter and the clink of glasses wove through the low murmur of voices, but at the far end of the bar, Rose leaned forward on her elbows, her fingers tracing the rim of yet another empty pint glass. Four of them stood lined up like silent witnesses in front of her, the last traces of foam drying into sticky rings on the wood. Her brunette hair, streaked with subtle red undertones, tumbled loose over her shoulders, framing flushed cheeks and brown eyes that held a glassy, unfocused warmth. At 5'4", she seemed smaller somehow in her intoxication, her lightweight frame betraying her with every unsteady shift on the stool, a needy haze settling over her features as she bit her lower lip, lost in the buzz.

Across the room, Angus paused mid-pour behind the bar, his blue eyes with their hint of green locking onto her from the distance. Recognition hit like a spark—his virtual friend, the one who'd shared those late-night confessions about her voice kink and the sharp thrill of praise twisted into degradation. He set the glass down without a word, his 6'3" frame moving with quiet command through the crowd, light brown hair catching the light as he circled behind her. The scent of her perfume mingled with the pub's earthy notes of malt and woodsmoke, and he leaned in close, his breath warm against the shell of her ear.

"Hello pet," he whispered, voice low and steady, the words curling around her like a leash. Rose stiffened, a flush blooming deeper across her skin, her body betraying the bratty edge that alcohol always sharpened into something more pliant and hungry. Angus's hand rested lightly on the bar beside her, close enough for her to feel the heat of him, his presence filling the space as he waited, attentive, for the spark of submission he knew simmered beneath her inebriated defiance.

Rose turned slowly on the stool, her brown eyes lifting to meet his with a glassy spark of recognition, a bratty grin tugging at her flushed lips as that familiar nickname slipped out in a soft, teasing murmur. "Hi smartass," she said, the words laced with the same playful defiance she'd carried since she was thirteen, though now they trembled with the weight of in-person submission, her voice hitching as the pub's warm air thickened between them. She pushed up from the bar, legs unsteady beneath her lightweight frame, the alcohol making her sway dangerously forward until Angus's strong hands caught her waist, steadying her with firm command that sent a flush of heat straight to her core.

"Easy there, pet," he murmured, his voice low and commanding as he held her upright, one hand splaying across the small of her back to feel the rapid flutter of her pulse, the other gripping her elbow to keep her from stumbling into the crowd. Concern threaded through his tone despite the dominant edge, his blue-green eyes scanning her intently. "How many have you had, Rose?" She blinked up at him, biting her lip in that needy way, her body leaning into his touch as she mumbled, "Two." His grip tightened just enough to remind her of his control, annoyance sharpening his whisper. "Be honest, pet." A soft, embarrassed whine escaped her as she pressed closer, the scent of her arousal mixing with the ale on her breath. "Four," she mumbled, her voice cracking with that intoxicating mix of bratty resistance and the hunger for his praise—or his degradation—to ground her.

"My flat is only ten minutes away. You're coming with me," Angus said, his voice a low rumble of command that left no room for argument. He helped her down from the stool, one arm banded securely around her waist while the other guided her elbow, his tall frame shielding her unsteady steps as they moved through the press of bodies toward the door. The cool night air hit her flushed skin like a shock, but his heat at her side anchored her, the scent of him—clean soap and faint malt—filling her senses as he flagged down a black cab with a sharp whistle.

They slid into the back seat, the leather cool beneath her thighs, and the moment the door shut she reached for him, bold in her drunken haze. Her fingers curled around his wrist and tugged his hand beneath the hem of her skirt, pressing his palm flat against the bare, smooth skin of her thigh. The fabric rode up scandalously high, barely covering the lace edge of her panties. Angus's fingers flexed once, feeling the warmth radiating from her skin, the faint tremor of her muscles.

"Still don't like clothes, I see," he murmured, a dark thread of amusement and approval in his tone. Rose leaned in close, her breath hot against his ear as her free hand drifted boldly to his crotch, rubbing lightly over the growing hardness beneath his jeans. "Maybe I was hoping to bump into Daddy," she whispered, voice thick and needy, her fingers tracing the outline of his cock with teasing pressure. His hand tightened on her thigh in warning, grip firm enough to bruise as he leaned down, lips brushing the shell of her ear.

"Wait till we're at my flat. Understand? Be a good girl." The words landed like a velvet collar around her throat, low and unyielding, and something in Rose's mind slipped— the beers and his voice blending into a warm, obedient fog that drowned out the bratty edge. Her body softened instantly against his side, thighs parting just a fraction under his palm, a soft shiver racing through her as the submission took hold. "Yes, Master," she whispered back, the title slipping out like a secret she'd been holding for months, her brown eyes glassy with want and the first real taste of his control.

She nodded faintly, her thighs pressing together in the dim light of the cab as his words sank deep, her body already humming with the ache only his voice could summon. The vehicle eased to a halt outside his building moments later, and Angus paid the driver before lifting her easily into his arms, carrying her up the narrow stairs to his flat with the kind of effortless strength that made her whimper against his chest. The door clicked shut behind them, the quiet space smelling of leather and cedar, and he lowered her onto the worn leather couch, his tall frame looming as that commanding tone thickened with dark intent.

"Did I say you could speak, slut?" The words landed like a slap wrapped in velvet, and Rose's breath caught, her legs parting instinctively on the cushions to reveal the damp patch spreading across the thin white thong clinging to her swollen pussy lips. "Mmmmm, please Master," she begged, voice breathy and desperate, her fingers already drifting down to rub slow circles over the soaked fabric, pressing the lace against her throbbing clit. Angus's hand snapped out, gripping her wrist hard and pinning both arms above her head against the couch back, his blue-green eyes flashing with approval and possession. "You pathetic little pet, already soaked like the pathetic slut you are." She nodded frantically, hips lifting in offering. "Breed me please," she whispered, the plea raw and needy.

He released one hand just long enough to undo the buttons of her top, tugging the fabric aside to bare her pierced breasts fully, the black barbells glinting under the low light while the small bat tattoo beneath her underboob came into view. "Can't risk getting you pregnant when you have Peter," he said, voice low and measured even as his fingers traced the edge of one piercing. "Master, I have an IUD and he's only four inches, you're eight," she mumbled, the confession tumbling out in a haze of arousal. Angus's free hand slid up her inner thigh, stopping just short of her cunt as he leaned closer, his breath hot against her ear. "And I'm much taller than you, but then again he doesn't know what to do for you or how to make you cum without touching your cunt, does he pet?"

And I'm much taller than you, but then again he doesn't know what to do for you or how to make you cum without touching your cunt, does he pet?"

"Please breed me please Master I'll be good," Rose whimpered, her voice cracking with desperate need as her hips bucked upward in offering. Angus's hand cracked sharply across her inner thigh, the sting blooming hot and immediate, making her wetness surge even more between her legs as she moaned and spread wider for him. "Still get horny by being used roughly, don't you, pet?" he growled, approval lacing the degradation in his tone, his fingers finally parting her soaked thong to slide one thick digit into her pussy slowly and teasingly, curling just enough to make her walls flutter around him. Her mouth fell open, tongue lolling out in that instinctive, submissive display, eyes glassy with the haze of alcohol and overwhelming arousal.

He withdrew his hand only to free his cock from his trousers, the thick length springing free and heavy in the low light of the flat. Rose looked up at him with raw, aching need, leaning forward as her tongue dragged eagerly from the tip all the way to the base in one long, worshipful lick, tasting the salt of him and the faint musk that made her thighs tremble. Angus's free hand fisted in her hair, yanking her back with controlled force that sent a fresh whimper of pleasure tearing from her throat. "Please sir," she gasped, the words tumbling out broken and pleading, her body arching toward him in total surrender as the voice kink wrapped tighter around her senses, every command and taunt pulling her deeper into the submissive fog she'd craved for so long.

Hello Pet