Can 'Don'T You Want Me To Be Obedient' Be A Meme?

"Good... I want to see you play with yourself and unless you have my permission, you can't f*cking c*m" "Yes, Daddy" * MONALISA I thought I had a problem being aroused. My ex boyfriend broke up with me for being insensitive to his touches and I thought I really had a problem with myself until I met him, Lucius Devine, my late father's best friend. He could make me wet just by staring at me and his slightest touches could make the 'insensitive' me shudder and c*m. Yet, he wanted boundaries, he wanted to be a father figure to me but I didn't want him as a father. I wanted him. I wanted him to be my daddy. I wanted to be his little submissive sl*t and I was going to break his boundaries until I become Daddy's Little Sub.

“You better be as long as the lengths you go to avoid me.” “Miss Patterson?!” he sounds flabbergasted. My eyes start to adjust to the darkness and I see that he is at the far corner, sitting on one of two seats in the room. “Is that what you’ve chosen to call me? Can you moan that?” “Miss Patterson!! I am your priest! You ought not to show up like this in front of me and say vulgar things to me.” He tries and fails to sound stern. He was practically drooling. “Yet all you want to do is clasp your hand on my chest and listen to me sing praises to you.” “You are of the devil.” I nod, “I’ve been called worse. But is it okay for a priest to moan about the devil while inside me?” “Will you stop??” “I will, after I’ve had my fill with you.” Melanie Rose Patterson wants her priest, and will stop at nothing to get into his pants. Because no matter what his mouth says, his body wants her. What Melanie wants, Melanie always gets... until now.

After my family joined hands to send me to prison for three years, I start learning how to behave myself. I do whatever everyone else tells me to do. The day I'm released from prison, my wife, Regina Johnson, sits in the car and says coldly, "If you ever lay those hands of yours on Ty again, I'll…" Before she can say anything else, I jump out of the car, pick up a brick from the side of the road, and smash my hand into a pulp with it. Regina stares at the bone sticking out and goes pale. When we get back home, Tyler Lowe, my adopted younger brother, ambushes me in the bathroom and scoffs. "So what if you're the biological son of the Lowe family? I can just as easily have you kicked out of the family!" Then, he uses a blade to make a small cut on one of his fingers before crying out in alarm, "If you really hate me, Cal, I'll leave right away! Please don't kill me!" Regina and my older sister, Calista Lowe, enter just in time to witness his display. Shaking with anger, they stomp on my wound with their high heels. "You haven't changed one bit! If anything happens to Ty, I'll make you pay for it with your life!" I nod obediently and march straight to the kitchen, where I jump into the massive meat grinder before turning it on. The blood and bits of flesh spray all over Mom and Dad, who end up walking in right then. Mom lets out a shrill shriek before fainting, while Dad forces himself to remain composed as he turns off the power. At this point, even Regina, my sharp-tongued wife, can't find the words to say anything. She stands frozen, her body trembling. When we're inside the ambulance, Tyler clings to Regina, quivering as he says, "This has nothing to do with me! He jumped into the machine himself. You have to believe me!" It's almost impossible for me to stay conscious through the unbearable pain, but I muster the strength to nod along with him. After failing to win over my family, I'd spent three years in prison. Later on, the system told me that if I showed absolute obedience until the day I died, I would receive massive financial compensation and be transported back to my original world.

"You. Your breath. Your body. Your soul. Your everything belongs to me. I can do the hell I want to do with it. Try to use this hand of yours to push me again I swear I will do worst than just breaking it... " Valerie Have no idea of her last name. She was born in an orphanage. Grown up there but with only one thought... Being a slave of her master... She was born for him. She was grown up with keeping his name in her mind as her master. The person who owns her. Her days went by hearing his name continuously. Her nights went sleepless as her dreams also caught by his presence... There wasn't even a single day when she didn't hear herself called as his slave. . . She knew she was his but again why her heart doesn't want to accept him. Why she still want to be rebel when she knew she's helpess... Him. Her master. Her owner. Her saviour. Her destroyer. The one who not only owns her body but also her soul... She's his to play. His to Destroy. His to do as he wished... Him. Xavier Valetino... WARNING... Let me tell you guys this story is completely different from my other stories. This story is not only dark. But contains extreme violence. and abuse.. There is nothing like romance in this. It's all about submissive and dominant with an interesting plot... Trust me if your below 18 then this story is not for you. Don't blame me if you got traumatized... I warned you... Risk is on you...

Grace thought the night to be like every other night she charms a handsome man into giving her whatever she wantes and after a little lap dance and foreplays she would leave, but unlucky for her she happens to run into Denzel, the night turned from what she planned into a night of...

I had always been obedient and compliant. I never dared to disobey others' instructions. The day my wealthy biological parents brought me home, my adoptive brother leaned close to my ear and sneered arrogantly, "The position of the Spencer family's heir belongs to me. If you know what's good for you, get lost on your own." I nodded obediently. Then I turned around and threw myself straight into rush-hour traffic on the highway. My parents nearly lost their minds. Panicked and trembling, they dragged me back into the car, their faces drained white with terror. My sister's expression darkened as she warned me coldly in my ear, "If you pull another stunt for attention, believe me, I'll throw you right back into the doghouse you came from." I obediently listened. That very night, I locked myself inside a dog crate. My sister froze in complete shock. Gritting her teeth, she yanked me out, staring at me like she'd seen a ghost. Later, when my adoptive brother pretended to be sick, my sister forced me to donate blood for him. I obediently took the knife. Without the slightest hesitation, I slashed straight through the artery in my wrist. By the time my parents rushed over, blood had just begun spraying out. They screamed in horror and lunged forward to press against my wound. "Somebody call 911! Now!!!" My sister had gone just as pale. After a long moment of stunned silence, she finally stammered, "Mom, Dad… I only told him to donate a little blood to Eric. I never told him to slit his wrist…" I blinked. My sister wasn't lying. She really hadn't taught me that. It was something the traffickers taught me during the five years my family personally handed me over to them—to "learn obedience."