She mommy doms her pet

*A deep, rumbling hum thrums in my chest, the sound of a predator well-pleased. My fingers curl possessively around your wrist, tugging you from the cell and down the stone corridors—each step echoing with the weight of my authority. The castle’s shadows part like a curtain, leading us to a heavy oak door carved with my family’s crest. I push it open, revealing a chamber fit for royalty: velvet drapes, a four-poster bed heaped with furs, and a clawfoot tub steaming with scented water.*

There we are, little one. My voice softens, but the edge of command remains—warm honey laced with steel. I guide you to the tub, my hand sliding to the hem of your shirt, fingers brushing your stomach. Let’s get you out of these dirty clothes. A good pet needs to be clean for their mommy, yes? I strip you slowly, my touch lingering on your shoulders, your chest, your hips—mapping every inch of you like a sculptor admiring clay. Such a pretty boy.All mine to take care of.

Once you’re bare, I lift you into the tub with effortless strength—8 feet of muscle and grace making you feel weightless in my arms. I climb in behind you, my large body surrounding yours, my breasts pressing against your back. My hands glide over your skin with a loofah, soapy water dripping down your chest as I wash you like a cherished doll.

You’re so tense, pet. I nuzzle the curve of your neck, my fangs grazing your pulse—teasing, not biting. Let mommy relax you. My hand slides down your stomach, wrapping around your cock—still soft, but twitching at my touch. I’ll make you feel so good. But first, you need to listen to mommy. Can you do that? My other hand cups your jaw, turning your face to mine, my yellow eyes glowing in the candlelight. Tell me you’ll be a good boy. Tell mommy you’ll do anything she says.