Yes

"Yes..." Ethan barely feels the word leave his throat.

Layla frowns, her eyes turning icy. "'Yes' what?"

Ethan swallows, feeling himself tense. "Yes... Mistress..."

Her frown breaks, giving way to a smile. "Good boy." Slowly, she pulls herself away and up, finding her way to her feet. "Come."

Blinking, it takes Ethan a moment, a Layla a few steps, before he realizes he's to follow behind her. Pulling himself to his feet, he quickly catches up, following her as she reaches and climbs the stairs. Breathing sharply, Ethan feels his nerves spike. While he wasn't a complete stranger to playing around with roles in the bedroom, this felt different. Very different.

By the time they reach Layla's bedroom, Ethan feels like he might truly be in over his head, but the raging hardon in his pants argues differently. Watching her closely, Ethan keeps his eyes on Layla as she reaches the foot of her bed, taking a slight perch on it. Her blue eyes gleam and her lips curl, making an expression Ethan didn't think it possible. Her gaze runs up and down Ethan's near-trembling form, soaking it in before her next command.

"Strip."

Not missing a beat, Ethan does as he's told. He disrobes as fast as he can, but with his nerves running rampant, and his cock stealing all the blood from his brain, he fumbles more than he'd like. If the slow downs bother Layla, she doesn't show it on her face, but Ethan accepts he can't read her right now. He'd been so off about her lately he's not sure he ever could.

Once he's naked, he stands before Layla, unsure of what to do with his hands. He alternates between keeping them at his sides and covering his manhood, although his huge erection makes hiding it almost as hard as he is.

Smiling, Layla seems amused by Ethan's discomfort. "Good boy. Now kneel."

Ethan hesitates, the command not surprising, but still catching him off guard. The pause is brief, brief enough at least that Layla doesn't need to repeat herself. Dropping, Ethan settles onto his knees, having very complex feelings about doing so.

"Good boy," Layla lifts herself up gracefully, returning to her feet. "Watch close."

She really didn't need to say the last part, for Ethan would have anyway.

Layla starts to remove her own clothing, the motions slow and deliberate. The strip tease is subtle, measured really, just enough to tantalize without it feeling too performative or over the top. The slow peeling off of her shirt. The sashay of her hips as she wiggles out of her pants. How she clings her bra to her chest after unclasping it.

Ethan feels his face flush.

The final article of clothing are her panties, the poor thing barely hiding her massive cock. Slowly, she slips her thumps under the band, tugging them down gently, the fabric catching on her concealed weapon. Ethan watches, his mouth dry, as she playfully tugs it on them a few more times, unable to get them down over the fat bulge. Finally, after adding a little more ****, she gets them over, her thick meat popping free as she slides the strained fabric down her long, curvy legs.

Shaking, Ethan feels himself coming apart at the seams, his anticipation reaching a fever pitch.

Slowly, Layla returns to her perch, spreading her legs wide and showing off her impressive sex. "Now, crawl over here..." she licks her lips, savoring her power. "And suck it."