“Beg, baby. Maybe I’ll consider letting you have me tonight.”
The locker room was silent.
Everyone else had gone home.
The overhead lights flickered softly, casting long shadows on the scuffed linoleum floor.
And there he was — Jim Cornette, flat on his back on the cold floor, glasses off, tie loosened, hair tousled like he’d lost a fight… and loved it.
Alexandra stood above him, one heeled boot planted firmly on his chest, her weight pressing him down, just enough to remind him who was in charge tonight.
Her lips curled into a slow, sultry grin.
“Beg, baby. Maybe I’ll consider letting you have me tonight.”
Jim let out a low, broken breath — part whimper, part desperate moan.
He looked up at her — that wicked silhouette outlined by fluorescent light — and he shivered.
“Please,” he whimpered, voice shaking. “Baby… please…”
She tilted her head, heel grinding down just slightly.
Not enough to hurt — not really.
Just enough to make him submit.
He reached for her ankle and kissed it, slowly, reverently.
Then her calf.
Then higher.
“I’ve been good… I did the promo right… I wore the new suit you picked… please…”
“You think just being a good little boy earns you this, Cornette?”
She stepped back.
He whined.
She crouched over him, slowly straddling his waist and grabbing him by the tie.
“I own you.” she purred in his ear. “Every noise you make… every breath… that’s mine. Understand?”
“Yes, baby. Yours.”
She kissed him hard, biting his bottom lip, tugging his tie tight.
“Good. Now open that pretty little mouth. You’re gonna earn it.”
She shoved two fingers into his mouth — slowly, watching his lips go around them.
He moaned like he’d just been touched by God. Sucked like it was instinct.
“That’s it, baby. That pretty little mouth of yours knows its place.” Alexandra purred, smirking.
His hips bucked beneath her. She slapped them down.
“Did I say you could move?”
He groaned around her fingers, shaking his head, begging with his eyes.
She withdrew her hand — wiped the saliva across his cheek — and then stood.
“On your knees. Now.”
Jim scrambled up, chest heaving, tie still in her grip like a leash.
She backed toward the bench and sat, legs spread, skirt riding high. Her gaze was molten.
“Come here, baby. Worship like the filthy little thing you are.”
Jim dropped between her thighs like he was praying at an altar, hands trembling as they ran over her stockings. He pressed his lips to her inner thigh, eyes glistening with a burning devotion. She watched him, a smug smirk playing at the corners of her mouth, as he worshiped her reverently.
Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling it just enough to draw a despairing whimper from him. “I didn’t say you could touch, darling. Use your mouth.”
Jim’s hands fell away instantly, settling on either side of her legs as he continued his path of adoration with his lips alone. Each kiss, each nuzzle and gentle nip sent fresh waves of power through Alexandra, and she reveled in it.
“Eager little thing,” she cooed, gripping his hair, her thighs trembling under his mouth.
He moaned his agreement, the vibration sending a thrill up her spine. His tongue traced patterns over her wetness; worshipful, desperate. Alexandra bit her lip, heart racing, savoring every second of his obedience.
It was like he needed her pleasure more than his own release.
Every flick of his tongue, every low hum against her made her shudder — and yet...
“Don’t you dare make me cum yet, baby. Not until I say so.” she said, breathless, the dominant tone still in her voice.
Jim whimpered, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead on her thigh.
“But you taste so good, baby…” he replied, voice raspy and pleading. “Please… let me make you cum… let me make you scream.”
“Not yet.” Her voice was a velvet whip — soft, but it stung.
Her fingers tangled in his hair — yanking his head back to make him look at her.
“You’re here to obey, Jimmy. Now… hands on your thighs. Don’t move.”
He froze. Sat on his knees. Chest rising and falling in frantic waves.
She stood — slowly — letting her skirt fall back into place, walked around him in a slow circle, watching him squirm. Then, she pulled his tie up again, tight around his throat, and leaned in from behind to whisper:
“You’re such a pretty boy when you’re desperate…and you’ve been good… so now, you’re going to sit on that bench, keep your hands behind your back, and let me ride you like the mouthy little prize you are.”
Jim made a sound that could only be described as a whimpering gasp of full surrender.
He scrambled to obey, fumbling onto the bench, eyes wide and hungry behind those glasses. Alexandra turned away momentarily, enough for him to catch his breath, just enough for him to feel the void of her absence and crave her return. When she turned back, her eyes were ablaze. Jim's hands were clasped behind him, wrists crossing in sweet obedience, his suit askew, his mouth already parted and eager.
Alexandra slowly — teasingly — unzipped his pants, taking her time, reveling in the agony of his anticipation. Her fingers brushed over his hardness, and he trembled, letting out a noise that was somewhere between a gasp and a plea. She straddled his lap, skirt hiking up as she settled over him, pulling the tie taut, controlling even his breath.
“You cum when I say. Not before.” she replied, sinking down on him, feeling his desperation surge beneath her. Jim threw his head back, a quivering wreck of a man, utterly consumed, and she loved it.
“Alexandra… oh god… please…” he gasped, his voice breaking under the weight of her dominance.
“Look at me when you beg,” she commanded, pulling his tie to meet her eyes.
He stared up at her, face twisted in beautiful torment. He was trembling — every inch of him lit up, every nerve ending screaming.
She moved slow… rhythmic… almost cruel.
“Oh god — oh god, Lexie… please—please—”
“Not yet, baby.” she replied, cupping his jaw. Her nails dug into his chest, she kissed him hard and rode him like he was her prize bull, taking it all, claiming him completely. He bucked beneath her, his body alive with unbearable need.
“Can I… please… please let me—”
The words were ragged, tumbling out of him like his very soul was begging for release.
“Not. Yet.” She punctuated each word with a sharp movement, tightening her grip on his tie, his throat. “You’re mine, baby. I’ll tell you when you can give me that.”
He shuddered, holding on, barely, until —
“Now. Cum for me.”
When she finally said those words in his ear, he fell apart so hard he screamed. She laughed — low and breathless — holding him as he trembled and gasped against her chest.
“Good boy.”
Jim let out one last broken moan and collapsed against her, utterly wrecked.
And she smiled.
Because he was hers.
Every last, filthy, obedient inch of him.