My girlfriend’s friend summoned me to punish me

It was the last Friday before the holidays, that day when almost every office throws its Christmas dinner. I had dressed better than usual, ironed shirt and the jacket I only wear on special occasions. I knew I was going to drink more than I should, but I had no idea how expensive that night was going to get.

After dinner, the whole group decided to keep the party going at a nearby place that played good music. I drank, danced, laughed with people I barely exchanged two sentences with all year. At some point in the early hours, a coworker from the next department over, Sara, came too close. We looked at each other a second too long and kissed. It was a short kiss, almost a brush of the lips, nothing worthy of a story. But if I’m honest, I liked it. And that was what condemned me.

The rest of the night passed without anything worth mentioning. Around three-thirty I went home alone, collapsed onto the bed still dressed, and slept off the drunk in one shot.

I woke up late, with a dry mouth and a heavy head. I ate something for breakfast, got into the shower, and let the hot water bring me back into the world little by little. When I got out, I turned on my phone and saw several messages from Marina, Lucía’s best friend, my girlfriend. That surprised me. Marina and I got along well, but we weren’t the type to text each other.

I opened the conversation and my heart sank. Marina had sent me three photos. In all of them I was there, my mouth pressed to Sara’s, my hands where they shouldn’t have been. Beneath them, one single line: “Are you going to explain this to me?”

I replied with trembling fingers.

—Marina, it’s not what it looks like. It was just a kiss, a stupid drunken thing. Please, don’t tell Lucía.

—You’re an asshole —she replied instantly—. Lucía adores you and you do this to her. Who the hell do you think you are?

—Marina, Lucía is the love of my life. I made a mistake, I know, but if you tell her she’ll never forgive me. I’m begging you.

It took her a couple of minutes to write back. Those minutes felt endless.

—Look, this isn’t something to discuss by phone. I’m waiting for you this afternoon at my parents’ villa, at seven. You know where it is. And don’t even think about not showing up. I took the photos myself, so save your excuses.

***

I arrived on time. I parked on the street and crossed the garden to the house. The villa was large, with a neat lawn surrounding an empty pool, covered by December cold. Marina was waiting with the door open. She seemed calmer than her written tone had suggested, and that calm, instead of reassuring me, put me on guard.

She was wearing a white wool sweater, jeans, and sneakers. Her blonde hair was tied back in a loose ponytail. She was pretty, she always had been, though I had never allowed myself to think it out loud.

She let me into the living room and poured two glasses without asking whether I wanted one. I sat on the edge of the sofa, unable to relax my back.

—Daniel —she said, staring straight at me—, how could you do something like that to her?

—I already told you. It meant nothing. It was two kisses at a party, nothing more.

—I was there. It wasn’t two kisses. There were looks, hands, hugs. You were damn close to dragging her into the bathroom and you know it.

I lowered my head. I had nothing with which to defend myself.

—The alcohol, the party, I got carried away… —I murmured—. I know it was wrong. I regret it, I swear.

—Regret is useless, Daniel. Lucía deserves to know who she’s with. I’m going to send her the photos.

—No, please. —I felt a knot in my throat—. I’ll do whatever. Whatever you ask. But don’t ruin her life over my stupidity.

Marina set her glass on the table with deliberate slowness. Something changed in her face. The indignation gave way to something else, something colder and sharper.

—Whatever? —she repeated.

—Whatever —I confirmed, too quickly.

—Good. There is a way this doesn’t go any further. But I’m not sure you’re ready for it.

—I am. Tell me what I have to do.

She stood up without answering.

—Stay here. And don’t move from the sofa.

***

Marina disappeared down the hallway and left me alone with my drink and my conscience. The minutes began to stretch. Five, ten, fifteen. Each one longer than the last. What the hell is she plotting? The only thing breaking the silence in the house was the ticking of a wall clock somewhere.

And then I heard it. The sharp click of heels approaching along the tiled hallway. That surprised me, because Marina had left in sneakers.

When she reappeared in the living room, I was literally left open-mouthed.

Her blonde hair was slicked back, straight, falling over her shoulders. She was wearing a black leather bra and thong that clung to her body like a second skin, and high stiletto boots that rose above the knee. Her makeup was unlike anything I had ever seen on her, with bright red lips. In her right hand she held a thin riding crop.

—Surprised? —she asked, and her voice had changed as much as everything else.

—Y-yes —I managed.

—Shut up. And get naked.

—But, Marina…

—You can leave whenever you want —she cut me off, shrugging—. But if you walk out that door, I’ll call Lucía before you get to the car and tell her everything. Your choice.

I said nothing else. I got up and started taking off my clothes with clumsy fingers, folding them any which way over the arm of the sofa. The cold in the house raised goosebumps on my skin, or maybe it wasn’t the cold. When I pulled down my boxer shorts, my cock was already half hard, betraying me in front of her. Marina looked at it for a second, arched an eyebrow, and let out a short laugh.

—Well, well. You even enjoy it.

Marina went around the sofa and told me to turn my back to her. I felt the leather tip of the crop trace my shoulders, slowly slide down my spine, draw lazy lines over the small of my back, slip between my buttocks and rise again. The touch was soft, almost a caress, and to my own shame I noticed my cock going rock hard, swollen and throbbing against my stomach without my being able to do anything about it.

The first crack of the crop caught me by surprise. A sharp lash against one cheek, a burn that tore a moan out of me. Before I could recover, the second came, then a third. Five in total, spaced out, each one preceded by a silence in which I had no idea when the next would fall. The anticipation hurt almost as much as the blow. By the last one my ass was burning and my cock was dripping precome.

—On your knees —she ordered, as she sat on the sofa and crossed her legs.

I obeyed. Marina stretched out one leg and brought the tip of her heel to my mouth.

—Lick it. Slowly. Like your life depends on it.

I closed my eyes and obeyed. I ran my tongue over the leather of the boot, over the curve of the heel, while she watched me from above with a half-smile. She was humiliating me, and the worst part was that every order from her turned me on even more. I had never imagined myself like this, kneeling with my cock hard, pointing at her boots, begging with my eyes for instructions, but I didn’t want her to stop.

—Better than I expected —she murmured—. Maybe you’re not a lost cause after all. Let’s see how that mouth works elsewhere.

She spread her legs without getting up and pulled the leather thong aside. For the first time I saw her shaved cunt, glossy and already soaking wet. She grabbed me by the hair and shoved my face against it without giving me time to react.

—Suck it. And don’t stop until I tell you to.

I stuck out my tongue and started licking her right there, on the sofa, with my knees planted on the floor and my ass burning from the crop. I ran my tongue up and down her, lingered on her clit, fucked her with my tongue as deep as I could. Marina held me by the hair, directing me however she wanted, rubbing her face against my mouth. Her taste was intense, salty, and I swallowed and kept sucking as if my life really depended on it.

—That’s your place —she gasped—. Down there, eating my cunt. That’s it. Up.

***

She took me by the hand and made me stand. Without letting go, she led me down the hallway to a dim bedroom. My cock swung with every step, hard, with a string of precome hanging from the tip. There she took off the thong completely, left the leather bra on, and lay back on the edge of the bed, still wearing the high boots and her legs spread wide.

—Now show me you can do something right with that mouth —she said—. And if you do it well, maybe I’ll let you put it in.

I knelt between her boots and buried my face in her cunt again. I started slowly, with the tip of my tongue, tracing her lips, sucking her clit with my mouth. Marina let out a held breath, then a lower moan, almost a purr. I slid two fingers into her while I kept sucking, curling them upward, and she jolted and gripped my hair harder.

—There, you bastard, there. Keep going like that.

I played with my tongue, following her reactions, attentive to every ragged inhale, to every time her fingers tightened on the bedspread. A “fuck, fuck” slipped out between her teeth and she moved against my face, searching for the angle. Her moans grew, losing the control she liked to show off so much. I sucked harder, fingered her faster, licked her clit with a flat tongue, without stopping.

When she was close, she grabbed my hair with both hands and pressed my face against her, barely letting me breathe. She smothered me there, against her cunt, while her whole body shook. A hot gush soaked my chin and neck. I didn’t pull away. I kept licking until her whole body trembled again, longer this time, and she collapsed onto the mattress, panting, with her boots hanging over the edge.

For a while we both stayed still, me naked at her feet with my face slick and my cock hard as stone, her catching her breath with the leather bra rising and falling. Then she made me climb onto the bed.

—Lie down. On your back. And keep your hands still on the pillow.

I obeyed. She straddled me without letting me put it in, rubbing the lips of her cunt all along the length of my cock, up and down, wetting me completely without sinking onto it. She started stroking my chest, stomach, thighs, slowly, with her fingertips, allowing me nothing more. Every time my breathing quickened, she lifted herself a little, pulled her hand away, and waited for me to calm down. My cock was so hard it hurt.

—Marina, please…

—Shh. Tonight you don’t decide —she said quietly—. I do.

She lowered her mouth to my cock and licked it from top to bottom, as if it were an ice cream, never quite taking it all the way in. She sucked my balls one by one, ran her tongue over the frenulum, put the tip in her mouth and took it back out. She was driving me insane. Every time I felt I was about to explode, she stopped, squeezed the base of my cock with her fingers, and waited.

When she got tired of torturing me, she got back on top, grabbed my cock with her hand, and impaled herself on it, all the way in, in one go. We both moaned at the same time. She started moving, at first slowly, almost lazily, sliding up and down the full length, then faster and faster, setting the rhythm herself, controlling everything. I tried to stay still, let her do what she wanted, my hands clenched on the pillow.

—Look at me. Look at my face while I fuck you, you bastard.

I looked at her. Her eyes were shining, her red lips parted, her tits still trapped in the leather bra bouncing in time. She bent down and spat into my mouth. I swallowed. She laughed. She sped up, her hands braced on my chest, digging her nails in, fucking me with rage. Every time she came down she sank so deep I could feel her ass slapping against my balls.

—Don’t you dare finish without permission —she warned between gasps—. Hold it. You hold it until I tell you to.

I gritted my teeth. Every second was a fight against my own body. I dug my nails into my palms, thought about anything, counted backward. Marina noticed and laughed, enjoying seeing me at the edge. She lifted herself, turned around without taking me out, and sat on me backward, so I could see her ass and back as she moved. She grabbed my balls from behind with one hand and squeezed them while she impaled herself again and again.

—Marina, I can’t take it anymore —I begged—. Please, let me finish. Please.

—Not yet.

She kept riding me until she came again, clenching around me with contractions that nearly made me blow. She stopped just in time. She stood up, turned around, and slid down my body until her mouth was over my cock. She took the whole thing, down to the throat, and pulled it out slowly, licking me with cruel slowness, looking me in the eyes the whole time. She took it in again, sucking me with sunken cheeks, coating it in saliva.

—Now —she said, pulling it out for a second and pointing my cock at her face, at her own lips—. Now you can. Come. In my mouth.

She took me in again and three sucks were enough. I came with a force that left me empty, in long streams that filled her mouth until it overflowed. I saw it dribble from the corner of her mouth, down her chin, while she kept sucking and milking me with her hand until the last drop. But before I could even react, Marina climbed back up, held my head with both hands, pried my mouth open with her thumbs, and spat all my cum into it. Then she kissed me, smearing it across my tongue, forcing me to swallow. I did, still trembling, feeling the thick, salty taste slide down my throat, while she watched me with a satisfaction that had nothing to do with pleasure.

—Good boy —she whispered, wiping her chin with the back of her hand and sucking her fingers—. That’s how things are done.

***

We stayed lying there a while longer, in silence. Then I got up, collected my clothes from the living room, and dressed without saying much. Marina walked me to the door, calm again, the old friend again, as if the woman in boots and with the crop had never existed.

—Are you going to delete the photos? —I asked at the threshold.

She smiled and didn’t answer. I just thanked her, like an idiot, convinced I had settled my debt and that it was buried forever.

I drove home with a strange mix of relief and shame, trying to convince myself that it was all over.

But it wasn’t over. I would understand that much later.