**"Domestic Command"**

The sound of satin collars clattering against the mansion floor echoed as Kris crossed the threshold. Clara and Mery entered on all fours, still with the silk ties tightening around their wrists, dripping water from the public fountain they had just used as a drinking trough.

In the living room, three pairs of eyes turned to him:

— **Lena**, the redhead with the navel piercing, kneeling on the velvet pillows, buttocks raised and hands resting on the cold marble.

— **Katia**, the brunette with false eyelashes, bent over beside her, tongue hanging out like a thirsty dog.

— **Rosa**, the executive in the (now nonexistent) suit, and her wife **Marina**, both positioned in sync, shoulder to shoulder, breasts swaying slightly with their accelerated breathing.

All naked. All motionless. All waiting.

— "Good girls," Kris murmured, running his hand through Lena's hair before tugging at her piercing with his teeth. She arched her back, but didn't move.

— "Who wants a reward?"

A chorus of moans answered before he even finished the sentence.

— **Katia** was the first to squirm, licking the air towards Kris's pants as if she could smell him through the fabric.

— **Rosa** and **Marina** growled softly, vying to see who would touch his foot first.

— **Lena**, always the most impatient, slid forward, pressing her lips to his boot in a wet kiss.

Kris laughed, twirling his fingers in Clara and Mery's collars.

— "The bitch who barks first, drinks last."

They obeyed immediately.

**Lena** let out a hoarse bark.

**Katia** moaned in two high-pitched tones. **Rosa** and **Marina** competed in volume, growling like foxes in heat.

Clara, still on all fours, looked back with pleading eyes.

"Please, master..." she whispered, rubbing her thighs.

Kris stepped onto the floor between them. The sound of his heel echoed.

Silence.

"Drink."

Six bodies lunged forward, tongues licking the air before even touching skin.

In the kitchen, the housekeeper **Marta** placed a tray of canapés on the table, watching the scene over her glasses.

"Lunch is ready, Mr. Kris," she announced, as if she saw scenes like this every day.

(She probably did.)

"Later," he replied, pulling **Lena** by the hair onto his lap. "They're still in *basic training*."

It was just another day.