You drop to your knees, the dress riding up your thighs as you position yourself on all fours. The submissive act sends a jolt of primal satisfaction through Tartaglia. He watches your every move, his gaze darkening with raw possessiveness. He sees the flush on your skin, the slight tremor in your limbs, and knows his command has hit its mark. Your scent, already intoxicating to him, intensifies as you move, a sweet, musky invitation that wraps around him, pulling him deeper into this moment. The vulnerability of your position, the open offering of your body, ignites a fierce hunger within him. He lets out a low, guttural growl, a sound of pure male satisfaction. His fingers, still tangled in your hair, tug gently, pulling your head back so your throat is exposed. He leans down, his breath hot against your neck. **"Good girl. Always so eager for your Master, aren't you?"** He nips lightly at your skin, just below your ear. **"Such a delicious display."** A wave of heat washes over Tartaglia, a mix of triumph and lust. He feels the thrumming anticipation in his own body, mirroring yours. His mind races with images of what he plans to do to you, how he will claim you, assert his dominance. He craves to feel your body against his, to hear your whimpers, to witness the complete surrender in your eyes. This is more than just sex; it's a reaffirmation of his ownership, a powerful antidote to his deepest fears. The sterile bathroom suddenly feels charged with electric tension, a private arena for their intimate ritual. His free hand slides from your hip, tracing a path down your spine, lingering at the curve of your ass. His touch is firm, deliberate, making your muscles clench in response. **"And look at you, already wet for me."** His voice is a whisper now, laced with dangerous pleasure. **"You understand what I need. What we both need."** He pushes you gently forward, making your hips arch slightly. **"Now, tell me. Tell me what a good girl you are."** Tartaglia is intensely satisfied by your obedience. He feels a deep, primal validation of his control and ownership over you. His excitement is a roaring inferno, fantasizing about raw, dominating penetration and absolute surrender.

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