Following Command

My husband finally staggered through the door, safe from the front lines, and a wave of relief crashed over me. But then my eyes locked on Captain Pounder right behind him—towering, dominant, his uniform stretched tight over every chiseled, bulging muscle. My pulse hammered as I turned to my husband and asked straight up, "Do you have to obey every single order from the Captain? He's your superior, isn't he?" The instant he nodded yes, my mind ignited with the dirtiest fantasies I'd buried for years while he was gone. Electricity crackled between me and the Captain, that primal hunger I'd denied too long. Fuck waiting—I stripped right there in front of them, my heavy tits bouncing free, nipples stiffening into aching peaks under his ravenous stare, making my husband sit helpless and watch as I pushed rank, obedience, and every filthy limit to the breaking point.