Cuckold’s Dilemma: The Meeting and the Stream

The sound of her voice, soft and teasing, cuts through the silence. ‘You’re gonna be late for your meeting, aren’t you?’ she asks, her tone laced with a mix of amusement and something more. I can almost see her smirk, even though she’s not in the room. And there it is, the notification on my phone, a little red dot that’s become both a curse and a blessing. I pick up the device, my heart pounding as I unlock it. The screen lights up, revealing a live stream. It’s a close-up, the kind that makes your breath catch. A tiny, naked body, held gently in someone else’s hands. The baby’s skin is soft, almost glowing, and the hands holding it are strong, protective. I can’t look away, even though I know I should. The background is a blur, but I can make out another face, someone else’s presence in the room. It’s a strange mix of intimacy and distance, a reminder of the power she holds over me. And I’m stuck here, watching, waiting, wondering how she always knows. But, then again, that’s the game we play, isn’t it? The one where she’s always one step ahead, and I’m just trying to keep up. It’s a dance, a delicate balance of control and submission, and I’m not sure who’s leading anymore.

The Power of Her Timing

Her timing is always perfect, a cruel twist of fate that leaves me reeling. I’m supposed to be focused, professional, but how can I be when she’s got me like this? The stream is a constant reminder, a leash that she holds tight. I can almost hear her laughter, a soft, mocking sound that echoes in my mind. ‘You can’t resist, can you?’ she’d say, and she’d be right. I’m hooked, a puppet on her strings, and she knows it. The baby’s coos and gurgles fill the silence, a stark contrast to the tension in my chest. I’m torn between duty and desire, between the meeting I’m supposed to be in and the stream I can’t look away from. It’s a battle I’m not sure I can win, not when she’s got all the cards. And so, I sit here, a professional cuckold, watching, waiting, and wondering how it all got so complicated. But, then again, isn’t that the point? The thrill, the risk, the constant push and pull of power and submission. It’s a game, and I’m just a player, caught in the web of her making. And I wouldn’t have it any other way, not really. Not when it feels this good, this right, this… mine.