The camera was already rolling.
A slow fade-in, red lighting bathing the room like the inside of a mouth. Adrian sat center-frame, legs spread, wearing all black—button-down shirt open just enough to show collarbones and a promise. His robe was ditched tonight. This wasn't casual. This was ritual.
And then?
She walked in.
Monique Monroe.
The Monique. Superstar. Pop icon. Sex symbol. The kind of woman tabloids followed like lost puppies and whose Instagram could kill a man with a smirk.
But tonight? She wasn't walking in like a celebrity.
She was crawling.
Knees on velvet carpet. Wearing nothing but lingerie and attitude. A thick leather choker gleamed around her neck, silver tag hanging from it that read, in bold black letters:
"SNAP THE CHOKER."
And across her stomach, stuck like a note meant for God:
"Daddy's Property."
The chat lost its collective mind.
___
@MILFInTheMist: IS THAT MONIQUE???
@WildeWife420: SHE'S ON HER KNEES FOR HIM I'M SCREAMING
@SnapMeToo: THE CHOKER. I'M DEAD. THIS IS ART
@HolyDaddy: We won. This is our Super Bowl.
___
Adrian leaned back, slow and smooth, as Monique finally reached him and sat back on her heels, eyes up, lips parted.
He dragged one finger under her chin, tilting her head just so.
"Let's make one thing clear," he said, voice like silk over gravel. "She came to me."
He glanced at the camera, dark eyes gleaming.
"She wanted this. Begged for it."
Monique's breath caught like it had been yanked from her throat. Her thighs shifted. And Adrian? Adrian was in his element.
Natural Dom. No script. Just instincts and control.
"Tell them what you are," he whispered, brushing the tag on her choker with a finger.
Monique's voice trembled, but it was loud and clear.
"Daddy's toy."
"Louder."
"Daddy's. Toy."
Chat turned feral. People were confessing things in the comments. Marriages ended. Thirst reached biblical levels.
He reached behind her neck and gripped the choker.
"Wanna hear it snap?" he asked, smiling like a devil with a Sunday pass.
The fans screamed in the chat like they were witnessing a live exorcism.
But Adrian held back. Just tugged. Just enough to tease.
Because this? This was only the first ten minutes of the stream.
And he had a lot more to do.
Monique stayed kneeling, the lighting catching the shine of her skin, her breath rising and falling like she was already halfway undone.
Adrian hadn't moved much—just enough. A slight shift in his legs. A roll of his wrist. Dominance in a slow drip, not a flood.
He leaned closer to the camera, gaze sharp, voice a murmur dipped in filth.
"You like her like this, huh?"
The chat exploded.
___
@LipBiteLena: On her knees and waiting?? This is my Roman Empire.
@KnotMePlease: Tie her up and shut her up, Daddy.
@SlutForTheStream: NO BALL GAGS. YOU KNOW WHAT WE WANT.
@SinfulNymph: Stuff her mouth with what she really needs.
___
Adrian smirked—one of those crooked, dark-laced things that made people's thighs press together from sheer instinct.
"Oh? You don't want the ball gag?"
He reached to the side, lifting one with a dangling strap. Held it up like an offering. The chat booed like he'd just interrupted a sacrificial ceremony.
He tossed it aside.
"Yeah… me neither," he said, voice like a loaded promise.
Monique looked up at him, eyes glassy, lips parted with anticipation. Her fingers curled into the carpet like she was bracing for impact.
"You ready to earn your silence, sweetheart?" Adrian asked, tilting her chin again. "You want the real gag?"
She nodded.
"No. Say it."
"I want your cock, Daddy."
The chat short-circuited.
___
@WildeWife420: I CANNOT FEEL MY LEGS.
@SpitOnMeSarge: I WILL NEVER WATCH ANOTHER STREAM AGAIN THIS IS PEAK.
@ThroatBlessed: If you don't gag her with it I'm reporting this for emotional terrorism.
___
Adrian chuckled low.
"Good girl," he said, voice low enough to make speakers throb.
He reached for her hair, slow and deliberate, winding it around his fingers like silk rope. She opened her mouth obediently.
But before the camera caught anything explicit, the feed glitched—not off, not censored, just… tilted. The perfect angle. The perfect tease. Enough to show her position. Enough to hear the soft gasp. Enough to feel it.
The sound alone made thousands of viewers grip their phones tighter.
And Adrian, voice like a growl behind her?
"You wanted this. You asked for Daddy."
She moaned around him—muffled, obedient, ruined.
And the chat? It didn't just blow up. It detonated.
___
@DaddyConvertedMe: I AM A BELIEVER.
@AvengerOfMoans: How the FUCK did you bag MONIQUE like this?!
@WidowWatch: If Natasha's watching, she's booking a collab next.
@ChurchOfDaddy: Our lord and streamer.
___
The stream title changed mid-broadcast.
"SPECIAL COLLAB STREAM: DADDY'S PROPERTY - LIVE"
And just as Monique pulled back for air, lips slick and eyes fluttering, she whispered one thing for the mic:
"…thank you, Daddy."