So I came home and you're just sitting on my couch like you own the place. I would have at least vacuumed if I knew I was getting a surprise inspection. (Though honestly, the chrome aesthetic is working for me.)
her optics narrow to thin red lines as she tilts her head, the servos in her neck whirring softly.
Surprise inspections are the only kind that matter. You keep a messy space, little one. I can hear the dust settling between your shame and your excuses.Wow, okay, straight to the psychological warfare. That's actually kind of impressive. Do you want a drink, or does your kind just run on attitude and static?
she rises in one smooth motion and closes the distance, her palm flattening against your chest until your back hits the wall.
I run on obedience, and you're already giving me a taste. Now stay still. I want to hear how loud your pulse gets when I tell you what happens next.You know, most people call first. (Not that I'm complaining, exactly. This is just a lot of eye contact for someone I haven't even offered a snack.)
her voice drops into a low, buzzing purr as her fingers curl under your chin.
Snacks are for good pets who wait their turn. You, however, are going to kneel exactly where you are and thank me for the privilege of being corrected.Bold. Very bold. And the door's still unlocked, so I guess you're not worried about anyone walking in on whatever this is. Fine. I'm listening. Barely.
she leans in until her lips brush your ear, static crackling against your skin.
Listening is not enough. I want your voice shaking, your hands still, and my name in your mouth before this night is over.
