Dominant Man Wanting A Submissive Girl [M x F]

(Two setting ideas. Either a modern day world, but where it’s a norm for women to have a strongly submissive role, literally serving in their home, or a regular type of world, but she happens to take on that role of servant for my character. Much more extreme than a housewife.)
The morning broke through Jack’s curtains, beaming thin strips of light through his room. The gentle sound of birds chirping outside and the dull sensation of sleep still tugging at him in bed made him resist getting up. His mind cleared as he reached to the side of him, finding the space on the bed empty. He grimaced. She was up and not with him this morning. He didn’t like waking up alone and she knew it.
With a soured mood rising up through him, he sat up on the edge of the bed. His fingers slid through his messy dark blonde hair as he tried to open his dark blue eyes wide. He took a moment to gather himself and finally rose to his feet. The cool morning air wasn’t so inviting to his skin and he threw on his robe before heading out of his room to hunt down the girl.
He could hear her before he saw her. She was humming to herself in a light, pleasant tone as he found his way to the kitchen. As much as he wanted to reprimand her for not being in bed with him, and he planned on it anyway soon enough, he noticed her cooking breakfast. It was only then that he registered the smell of the food. He walked over to the side of the kitchen. A bar was here, a low opening between the kitchen and the counter that faced him where he watched her from. “Good morning, pet,” he offered.

He could hear the crowds roar outside of his room. His attention turned back toward the young woman that was now sucking madly at his cock. He could feel a rush of adrenaline in him now, thinking about the match today. How he really needed to perform well and win. It was a decider to his future now. And as his thoughts drifted into that area, his body tensed up and he could feel his desire to cum edge closer and closer.
He leaned back, one arm resting on the arm of the chair he sat in. The other hand moving to the back of her head, slipping through her hair. He could feel the cascade of her hair lightly brushing his balls as her mouth worked at his manhood. Before long, he could feel himself getting close to bursting and he grabbed her hair by the roots and started to force her up and down at his own pace, not far off from her own.
His other hand joined in and soon he found himself shooting his load. He held her in place as he came, not letting her get away or move as he became ultra sensitive. And after a moment he let her go and motioned her away. “Alright, it’s time,” he said as he got up, mostly ignoring her as he got dressed and readied himself to start. “Be ready when I get back,” he commanded coldly. “I might have another match after this.”

He watched with amusement as the girl walked up to him. She was beautiful. He couldn’t deny that. But that muddy brown skin of hers bothered him. It was smooth, unbroken, and clear. But to him, her skin tone made her look dirty. He hated that fact. That she wasn’t white. And as much as he wanted to act like it was no issue, it would throw a wrench into everything. And it was all her fault.
As she came close, he opened an arm for her to tuck herself into, pressing her body to his and to look up at him like she always did. He wanted her. That figure she had captured his attention, and the way she walked, purposely swaying her hips. And how she always flirted with him with her gaze and little motions she loved to do that he found to be delightfully feminine. He wondered if all of that was part of her culture, or just her nature as a woman that she didn’t shed in favor of being a more masculine creature that the modern world seemed to force women to be.
He found himself concerned about dealing with her on a cultural level. Surely she’d want him to meet her parents and they’d surely try to dilute his own cultural background with their own. Traditions and beliefs of a filthy people, he thought sourly. So many cultures have trouble coming to terms with reality and will instead worship their old idols and carry on their superstitious ideas. He hated that. He wouldn’t give up what he was for some nasty backwater people and here she was probably expecting him to do exactly that for her.
His arm tightened around her shoulders. “Let’s get out of here,” he whispered into the top of her head. He breathed in the scent of her hair, pleased that she smelled of a lightly sweet, fragrant shampoo instead of some smoky incense or whatever other smells might come from her people’s activities. “I want to get you back home,” he added, grinning to himself as he pulled back and let her see his expression. As much as he hated what she was, he was craving the idea of using her body.