Pink and Power

Joey hustled down the hallway, weaving through groups of students already itching to get out of school.

I should’ve come sooner.

The guilt was gnawing at him, a dull ache in the pit of his stomach. He’d seen Eliza’s texts that morning—Miss Matthews’ texts, he corrected himself. When there were people around, he had to remember to call her that. No one could know about… whatever this was between them. But it wasn’t just the texts. It was what she had said.

“I love you.”

Those words had been right there, in black and white. She hadn’t hidden it. She hadn’t tiptoed around it. She’d laid her heart bare, and he... well... what had he done?

Joey swallowed hard, the ache in his stomach growing sharper.

Nothing.

He hadn’t even acknowledged it. Just skimmed past it like it was nothing. Like it didn’t mean anything.

“I’m sorry I missed your texts! Do you still need help with some clothes?”

Eliza—Miss Matthews—loved him.

A casual text about her outfit. After hours of radio silence. Then he’d gone right back to Bianca.

Joey swallowed hard, the memory flashing through his mind.

Bianca.

In the shower. Hot water streaming down their bodies, her slick skin pressed against his, her lips trailing down his neck as her hands explored every inch of him. Her moans echoing off the tiles, mingling with the rush of water as her body arched under his touch.

In bed. Sheets twisted around them, her legs wrapped tight around his waist, pulling him deeper. Her nails scraping down his back, her breath hot and ragged in his ear as she begged for more. Her eyes—half-lidded, full of hunger—locked onto his, holding him there as he took her again and again.

On the floor. His knees had scraped against the carpet, but he hadn’t cared. Bianca beneath him, her body sprawled out, taking everything he gave her. Her lips, swollen and eager, whispering filthy things that made his head spin.

The couch. Her back arched over the armrest, her hands gripping the cushions, her mouth open in a silent cry as he drove into her. The way her body shook, her gasps echoing in his ears—God, she’d been perfect.

Joey’s breath caught, and his body responded before he could stop it.

Shit.

He felt a twitch in his pants, heat pooling low in his stomach. His fingers clenched into fists at his sides as he **** the memories away, but they clung to him like a second skin. Not now. His cheeks flushed, the blood rushing to his face—and elsewhere—making it impossible to think straight.

You’re at school!

Joey gritted his teeth, inhaling sharply through his nose.

Focus.

But even as he tried to push the images away, Bianca’s voice echoed in his mind.

“God, Joey... you feel so good...”

His jaw clenched, and he shifted his weight, trying to will the heat away.

Focus on Eliza.

The guilt hit him like a slap to the face. Eliza was waiting. Needing him. And here he was, getting hard in the school hallway at the memory of another woman.

What the hell is wrong with me?

He shook his head, swallowing hard, and **** himself to shove it all down. There was no room for this. Not now.

Dude. You’re at school.

This wasn’t the time. Especially not when he was about to face Eliza.

He turned the last corner and spotted her classroom door. The final bell echoed through the halls just as he arrived, and students spilled out, eager to escape. Joey lingered in the hallway, taking a few deep breaths to settle himself.

Okay. Apologize. Be sincere. She deserves that much.

He stepped inside and stopped dead. Eliza was still in the pink skirt suit. The same one. From yesterday. That wasn’t what shocked him, though. It was how she looked at him.

Her eyes lit up the moment he walked in, as if the sun had just risen. Her body straightened, her hands neatly folded in front of her, and her expression—

Submissive.

Not just respectful. Not just polite.

Utterly submissive.

“Sir,” she murmured, her voice soft and reverent, her eyes dropping to the floor as he approached.

Sir?

Joey blinked, confusion hitting him hard.

“El—uh, Miss Matthews,” he corrected, glancing at the open door. No one was around, but still. “You okay?”

Her lips parted slightly, as if asking permission to speak.

“I’m fine, sir,” she said softly, eyes still lowered. “I’m just… waiting for your guidance.”

Joey’s pulse kicked up. His mind raced to process what was happening.

“Uh… Eliza?”

“Yes, sir?” Her response was instant, her tone filled with devotion.

“Why are you—what’s going on?” His voice dropped, and he took a step closer, concern bleeding into his tone.

Finally, she lifted her eyes to meet his. There was no hesitation. No doubt. Only pure, unwavering devotion.

“I failed you,” she whispered. “And I won’t let that happen again. Please accept my apology, sir.”

Joey’s stomach flipped.

“Failed me?” His voice cracked, speaking a little too loudly for a classroom with an open door, “What are you talking about?”

“You weren’t ready yet,” she explained softly, her expression serene, “You’re learning, but last night… I left you without resources. Without direction. That was my mistake.”

Joey’s mind reeled, but she kept going, her tone calm, logical—like she’d thought this through a hundred times already.

“So,” she continued, “I’m going to fix that.”

“Fix what?” he asked, his throat dry.

“Your responsibility.” She stepped closer, her body barely inches from his, “The world is big. Your life is big. There are expectations that will be placed on you as a man, and you’re not ready to take control of everything yet, but I can teach you.”

Joey blinked. “Teach me…?”

“To be responsible,” she murmured, her eyes locked onto his with reverence. “By putting everything in your hands,” she took his hands in hers, “Everything in my life. The apartment wasn't enough, that's obvious to me now. I wasn't thinking big enough. I’m going to be completely dependent on you. For everything. You’ll make all the decisions. I’ll follow your lead.”

His heart pounded.

“Wait, Eliza—”

“It’s okay.” She smiled softly. Too softly. Like this was a gift. “This is what I want. It's my dream. You need to learn… and I can teach you.”

Joey’s mind screamed that this wasn’t right. This was the power! He remembered his words to her.

"And having me be your focus, like you described, is... it's like a dream come true."

He did this!

Joey wanted to stop her. He wanted to fight, to argue, but her eyes—God, her eyes. She believed this. This was her truth. If he pushed her too hard, if he challenged her beliefs, would it even work? Would she just see it as a challenge to become even more submissive?

“You can’t…” His voice faltered, “You can’t act like this when we’re around other people. It’s not safe. Someone will notice.”

“Yes, sir,” she murmured instantly, her gaze full of trust.

Joey felt like he was suffocating. This was too much. Too fast. He swallowed and **** himself to focus. One step at a time.

“I guess we should get you home and get you changed,” he said softly, trying to keep his voice steady. “I bet you could use some new clothes.”

“Whatever you want,” Eliza breathed, her smile growing.

She moved to his side, her body brushing against him as they turned toward the door.

And then, just as they stepped out into the hallway, he heard it.

Soft. Barely above a whisper.

“Master.”

Joey’s heart stopped.

His pulse thundered in his ears as Eliza’s words echoed in his mind.

What the hell have I done?