CHAPTER 3: THE FIRST VOICE NOTE

POV: Callum Miller

Sleep never came.

I lay flat on my back in the suffocating darkness of my bedroom, watching the morning twilight slowly bleed through the slatted blinds. My headphones were still coiled tightly in my palm, cold against my sweaty skin. Every time I closed my eyes, that deep, gravelly baritone echoed through my mind, vibrating straight into my bones.

“Think about it, handsome.”

A fierce, embarrassing throb pulsed between my thighs for the hundredth time that night. I squeezed my eyes shut, burying my face in my pillow to stifle a frustrated groan.

I was pathetic. One audio preview from a total stranger on an encrypted audio server, and I was lying awake like a desperate, needy wreck.

My phone hummed softly under my pillow.

I jerked upright, my heart leaping straight into my throat. With trembling hands, I pulled the device out and unlocked the glowing screen.

The dark red interface of Echo was still open. Sitting at the bottom of The Command Post profile was the direct, end-to-end encrypted messaging icon.

My pulse drummed violently against my ribs. My thumb hovered over the keyboard.

Don't do it, Callum. Once you reach out, you can't pretend this is just a fantasy anymore.

My fingers moved before my brain could stop them. My thumbs were shaking so badly I almost dropped the phone onto my chest. I typed out a single, hesitant word, my breath catching in my chest:

Hello.

I pressed send. The small crimson text bubble popped onto the dark screen, looking sharp, stark, and utterly irreversible.

I immediately slammed the phone face-down onto my mattress, pulling my hand back as if the glass had scorched my skin. I squeezed my eyes shut, my chest heaving with rapid, shallow breaths as sheer panic clawed at my throat.

“What are you doing?” I whispered fiercely into the quiet room. “What the hell are you doing?”

Ten seconds passed. Then twenty. Then a minute.

Nothing happened.

A sudden, strange wave of cold disappointment washed over me, heavy and depressing. Of course he hadn't answered. It was four in the morning. A forty-two-year-old former military contractor wasn't sitting around waiting for a blank profile to send a pathetic one-word greeting.

I let out a long, shaky breath and reached to close the browser node.

Buzz.

The sharp, heavy vibration against my palm felt like a high-voltage shock. I froze, every muscle in my neck locking tight.

Slowly, hesitantly, I turned the phone over.

A notification sat inside the encrypted thread. No text. Just a private audio file sent directly from Commander, accompanied by a small, pulsing red play icon.

[Audio Note - 0:14]

My jaw went dry. The air in my lungs vanished.

With fumbling, frantic fingers, I shoved my rubber headphone tips deep into my ears. I pulled my duvet up over my shoulders, creating a dark, enclosed cocoon under the covers.

I pressed play.

A quiet, low static hummed in my ears, followed by the soft sound of a chair creaking under heavy weight. Then, a deep, raspy intake of breath.

“Well, hello there, blank profile,” Commander’s voice rumbled softly into my headphones. It was even deeper than the sample clip—rougher around the edges, laced with a slow, early-morning gravel that made my skin prickle with goosebumps. “A little late to be wandering into my command post alone... aren't you, handsome?”

A sharp gasp hitched in my throat. The word handsome hit my ears like a physical touch, heavy and deliberate.

“If you’re reaching out to me at four in the morning,” the low voice continued, unhurried, dripping with an effortless, terrifying authority, “it means you’re awake, you’re nervous, and you’re squirming in your bed thinking about what I could do to you. Am I right, boy?”

The audio note clicked off, ending in silence.

I sat frozen under the covers, my phone pressed against my chest. My whole body was burning up, a scorching, dark blush spreading from my face all the way down my neck and shoulders. My groin throbbed heavily against the tight denim of my jeans, leaking hot pre-cum into my underwear.

He called me handsome. He called me boy.

The raw, commanding power in his tone hadn't just made me shiver—it had completely unraveled me. Harlan spent every day barking orders at me, making me feel useless and weak. But this man’s voice... this man’s voice commanded me with a heavy, possessive warmth that made me want to drop to my knees and surrender everything.

My thumbs flew across the screen, my heart hammering like a trapped bird.

I couldn't sleep, I typed back, my confession raw and humiliating. Your voice note... I kept listening to it.

I hit send, holding my breath.

The red indicator at the top of the screen lit up instantly.

Commander: [Audio Note - 0:18]

I pressed play, clutching my phone with white knuckles.

“Is that so?” Commander’s voice rumbled, a faint, dark amuse tone lacing his words. “You’ve been lying in the dark listening to my voice on repeat? Good. That’s where your focus belongs.”

He paused, a low sigh vibrating through the mic that made my lower stomach coil tight.

“Now tell me what you’re wearing right now, sweet boy. And don't keep me waiting. When I ask my submissives a question, I expect a prompt answer.”

My breath hitched violently. Sweet boy.

The title washed over me like warm velvet. My mind reeled under the sheer weight of his dominance. He wasn't asking for my real name. He wasn't asking for my location or my face. He was stepping directly into my mind, establishing total, unyielding control through nothing more than the sound of his voice.

I tapped the text box, my fingers trembling as I replied.

Just my jeans and a t-shirt, I sent. I’m under my covers.

Commander: [Audio Note - 0:22]

I pressed play instantly, completely addicted, completely hooked.

“Jeans in bed?” Commander murmured, his voice dropping into a stern, disapproval-laced register that sent a thrill of pure terror straight down my spine. “That sounds uncomfortable, handsome. Or are you keeping your jeans on because you’re hiding how hard you are for me right now?”

I whimpered aloud, pressing my forearm over my mouth to block the embarrassing sound. How did he know? How could he read me so easily from forty-eight kilometers away?

“Unbutton them,” Commander’s gravelly voice commanded softly into my ears, absolute and unyielding. “Unzip those jeans and slide your waistband down past your hips. Do it right now, and tell me when it’s done.”

My body didn't even hesitate. The instinct to obey him was so overwhelming, so fierce, that my left hand immediately reached down beneath the duvet.

Pop.

The metal button of my jeans snapped open in the quiet space under my blanket. I pulled the zipper down with a slow, metallic whine that sounded deafening in my ears. Trembling, I hooked my fingers into the denim and tugged the heavy fabric down past my hip bones, freeing my aching, rock-hard length into the cool air under the sheets.

I took a fast, shallow breath and typed back with one hand.

I unbuttoned them, Daddy... I mean, Commander. They’re down.

The three red dots on the screen pulsed twice before disappearing. Then, a new voice note appeared.

Commander: [Audio Note - 0:15]

“Good boy,” Commander’s baritone rumbled, rich with thick, possessive praise that made tears of pure pleasure prickle behind my eyelids. “Such an obedient little sweet boy for me. You took that title right out of your mouth, didn't you? Called me Daddy.”

He let out a low, dark chuckle that vibrated right through my skull.

“You can call me Commander, handsome. Or Sir. But only when you’ve earned it. Now put your hand on yourself and stroke twice. Just twice. Then take your hand off and wait for my next order.”

I gasped, my hips twitching off the mattress. My hand slid down, wrapping my calloused, slick fingers around my throbbing shaft.

I stroked up. Once.

I stroked down. Twice.

I immediately yanked my hand away, resting my knuckles against my thigh as my body practically vibrated with desperate, unsatisfied tension.

I grabbed the phone, my breath ragged.

I did it, Sir, I typed, my cheeks burning. I stroked twice. I stopped.

Commander: [Audio Note - 0:08]

“Good boy,” the rumbling voice whispered softly into my headphones. “That’s my pet. Now put the phone down, close your eyes, and get some rest. We’re going to have a lot more work to do tomorrow.”

The clip ended.

I lay under the covers for a long time, my heart beating a slow, heavy rhythm, my lower body aching with an electric, beautiful heat.

I didn't feel filthy. For the first time in my life, the crushing shame of who I was didn't suffocate me.

Forty-eight kilometers away, a man with a voice like thunder had just taken total control of my morning…and I was already drowning in his power.