That Hello That Delivered Me Into His Control

I'm twenty years old, brunette, tall, big-breasted, with a smile that, according to what people tell me, opens more doors than it should. Today I'm here to tell you one of my best-kept secrets: how a simple greeting turned me into something I never imagined I would want to be.

I met him because of a friend. Mateo was her boyfriend at the time, a guy of about twenty-five, tall, kind to everyone, with a body that seemed deliberately sculpted to drive me crazy. I never imagined that one stray “hello,” said almost without looking at me, would be the beginning of everything.

It was a cold night. I went out to buy something for dinner and stepped into the little corner shop. He was alone, leaning against the counter. He said “hello” to me and then proceeded to ignore me completely. I couldn't stop looking at him: his eyes, his mouth. I'd suck him clean if I could, I thought, and the idea set my cheeks on fire and dampened my panties.

He bought what he needed and left. When I came out ten minutes later, I found him waiting for me on the corner, sitting on his motorcycle.

“Hey,” he said when I walked past him. “Can you give me your number?”

I didn't even know when I gave it to him. I only remember warning him, with a firmness I didn't feel:

“I don't want any trouble, okay? Just friendship.”

That same night he texted me: “It's me, save my number. I'll talk to you tomorrow, if you want and if you're not afraid of meeting new people.” I waited for that message the way one waits for a sentence. Anxious, frightened, awake.

***

The next day I arrived late at college, and between classes his first message came through.

“Hi.”

“Hi, how are you?” I replied, trying to keep my fingers from trembling.

“Good, you? You get a pretty late start to your day, don't you?”

“I had things to do first,” I lied. “Otherwise I wouldn't have been able to give you my full attention.”

“Don't say that, I'll start believing it,” he replied. “I wish I had all your attention all the time.”

“I thought about you last night,” he wrote afterward. “And honestly, that skirt didn't leave me much choice. I got a hard-on in the shop thinking about fucking you against the counter. I need to be your friend.”

“Friends?” I typed, laughing to myself in the middle of the hallway. “I have lots of friends. So we'll be very good friends.”

In my head, though, only one thought kept circling: all those sensations running through my body weren't my imagination. They were real, and they were growing.

He stopped writing. It wasn't until four in the afternoon that a different message arrived, drier, more calculated.

“From now on, if I text you ‘HELLO’ in capital letters, I'm the one in charge. If you don't agree, don't answer. It's okay, pretty girl.”

I didn't answer. I threw myself onto the bed and fantasized about him, eyes closed, hands slowly seeking me out. I slid two fingers into my cunt imagining that mouth, those orders, that cock I hadn't seen yet but already felt touching my throat. I rubbed my clitoris in circles until my sheets were wet, biting my lip so my mother wouldn't hear me from the kitchen. I came thinking about obeying him and, the moment I finished, I wanted more.

Never before had a word affected me like that. It wasn't what he said, but how he said it: like someone who had already decided and was only waiting for me to realize it. I spent hours staring at the ceiling, repeating those capital letters in my head, wondering how far I was willing to go with a stranger who was also a friend's boyfriend. Guilt and desire twisted together until I could no longer tell one from the other.

That night I went out onto the sidewalk wearing a short black dress, nothing underneath, because I loved feeling the air against my pussy. I saw him pass in the distance. Without thinking, I started walking, hoping I might run into him. And then my phone vibrated.

“HELLO.”

The capital letters. The code. My breath caught, and my nipples tightened beneath the fabric.

“Hi, handsome,” I wrote.

“Want to go have a coffee?”

“Now?”

“Yes. Are you allowed out?”

“I'll ask and let you know.”

“Okay.”

“All right, yes. Where should we meet?”

My heart was racing, and my mind even faster. We met halfway down the block. He had the calm of someone who already knew how the night would end.

“The coffee will be somewhere quiet,” he said, “so we can be alone and talk properly.”

***

We walked a couple of blocks and stopped in front of the discreet door of a hotel by the hour. I'd never been inside a place like that. I froze on the sidewalk.

“Are you brave enough to come in with me?” he asked, and it wasn't entirely a question.

“Yes,” I said, trembling, not understanding that there was no coffee waiting for me inside. Only a double bed and a television that didn't even work.

We were given room 102, on the first floor. The hallway smelled of disinfectant and cheap perfume, and every step I climbed felt like a point of no return. As we went up, he slipped an arm around my waist and took my hand, slowly, like someone taming a frightened animal.

“Relax, pretty girl. Nothing's going to happen that you don't want,” he murmured, opening the door. “We're just going to get to know each other a little better.”

We went in. He locked the door. Then he lay down on the bed, relaxed, with his hands behind his head.

“Come here, lie down with me. We can talk about whatever you want.”

It was hot. I took off my jacket and sat on the edge of the mattress. He looked me up and down slowly, shamelessly, pausing at my tits and then at the V of my dress as it rode up my thighs.

“I know I'm older than you,” he said softly, almost in a whisper. “But I like the way you look at me. I like that you're already trembling without me touching you. I like thinking that underneath that dress you're already soaking wet, waiting for me.”

I didn't know what to do or what to say. All my fantasies were fighting to get out, and none of them could find the door. I was drowning in my own thoughts when he kissed me.

He filled my mouth with his tongue, forcing it against mine, making me suck it as if he were already teaching me what would come next. One hand yanked my dress down until my tits were exposed, and he stared at them for a moment before grabbing them both, squeezing the flesh, pinching my nipples until they were hard as stones. He stared straight at me, with a confidence that made me fold inward.

“You belong to me,” he said. “And you're going to do everything I tell you.”

“Yes,” was all I managed. “That's what I want.”

He kissed me again while twisting my nipples between his fingers, so hard that he drew a muffled moan from me. I couldn't scream, because every time I opened my mouth he bit my lower lip and swallowed the sound. He pressed me against his body, against the hard bulge in his pants, and without realizing it I started rubbing myself against his thigh like a cat in heat, soaking his jeans with the wetness pouring from between my legs.

He slipped his hand beneath my dress and discovered I wasn't wearing panties. He gave a quiet laugh in my ear.

“Slut,” he murmured, delighted. “You went out looking for me like this, with nothing on. You knew you'd end up here.”

He ran two fingers along the slit of my cunt from bottom to top, gathering all the wetness from me, and held them up, glistening. Then he put them in my mouth.

“Suck them. Learn your own taste, because later you'll taste it off my cock.”

I obeyed without thinking, closing my lips around his fingers and sucking them as if I were already practicing.

“I can't wait to taste all of you,” he panted against my neck. “But first I want you to do something for me.”

My lack of experience left me speechless. I didn't know what was expected of me. Then he said it, with a calmness that was an order:

“Kneel.”

I thought about it for barely a second. The next, I was already on my knees in front of him, on the floor, not entirely sure what was coming. I was so aroused that my fear had become something else. He stood up from the bed, calmly undid his belt, and pulled down his jeans and boxers in one motion, placing his cock at face level. It was thick and long, with a swollen red head and a drop of fluid shining at the tip. My mouth watered.

“Take it in your mouth,” he said, holding it in his hand and gently tapping my cheek with the tip.

“No... I don't want to,” I murmured, more out of reflex than conviction, while the smell of his cock filled my nose and made me even wetter.

He grabbed me by the hair, kissed me slowly on the forehead, and fixed me with his gaze.

“I'm the one in charge here. Open your mouth. Stick out your tongue.”

And I did. I stuck out my tongue like a little girl, and he laid his warm, heavy cock against it, rubbing it over my lips before letting me close my mouth. I began slowly, sucking the tip first, running my tongue around the crown and tasting the salt of the fluid leaking from him. Then I moved down the side, ran my tongue all the way along it, licked him like an ice-cream cone, and kissed his balls while holding his cock against my face.

“That's it, slut, just like that,” he panted, tightening his grip on my hair. “Take the whole thing now.”

I opened my mouth and swallowed him little by little. I felt my mouth filling, felt him bump against my palate, felt him press my tongue against the floor of my mouth. When he reached my throat I arched a little, my eyes watering, but I didn't pull away. He held the back of my head and set the pace, moving in and out of my mouth, without hurrying at first, enjoying the control. Every time I tried to set my own rhythm, he gave my hair a slight tug to remind me who decided.

“That's it,” he murmured. “Slowly. Look at me. I want you to learn to suck my cock with your eyes open.”

I looked up without stopping my sucking, and he smiled like a little god. He began fucking faster, pushing my head against his pelvis, making me choke now and then, forcing me to swallow the saliva spilling from the corner of my mouth down to my chin. I drooled all over myself; saliva ran down my neck and reached my tits. And even then he didn't stop.

“Stick out your tongue again. Leave it underneath, still. I want to fuck your mouth as if it were a cunt.”

I obeyed, held up only by his voice and his hands, until his breathing finally broke. I felt him swell inside my mouth, felt him grow even harder, and he gripped my head with both hands and shot a hot stream against my palate, then another, and another, until he filled me.

“Because it's your first time,” he said between pants, pulling out just enough for me to see his face clearly and the tits stained with the semen leaking from the corners of my mouth. “I'll let you spit it out. But from now on, you always swallow what belongs to me.”

That was his only concession. And at the same time, his way of marking me. I spat on the floor, a strand of milk hanging from my lip, and he gathered it with his thumb and put it back in my mouth.

“Clean. Good girl.”

***

I tried to get up and adjust my dress, as if I could still pretend I was in control of anything. He wouldn't let me. He grabbed me by the waist and threw me onto the bed.

“Now it's my turn,” he said, tearing off the little I still had on. “I'm going to show you the stars.”

He spread my legs with one sharp movement, placed them over his shoulders, and lowered himself between my thighs without taking his eyes off me. First he blew slowly over my wet cunt, and I jolted. Then he gave me one long lick from bottom to top, all the way, finishing by sucking my clitoris with his lips.

“You taste so good, slut,” he murmured against my flesh. “All swollen, all open for me.”

His mouth worked slowly, his tongue moving in and out of my cunt, rising to my clitoris, drawing circles, sucking, barely biting. His hands never stopped squeezing my tits, biting the insides of my thighs, marking my skin with his teeth. He slipped two fingers inside me while continuing to suck me, curling them as he searched for a spot I hadn't even known I had. When he found it, I arched my back off the mattress.

“There, please, there,” I moaned, grabbing his hair.

“Ask me to make you come.”

“Make me come, please, make me come in your mouth.”

He drove his fingers into me faster, sucked my clitoris harder, and I writhed, clung to the sheets, tried not to scream and only half succeeded. I felt a heat rising from my belly, tightening my chest and filling my legs. And there, with his tongue and his whispered orders, I had my first real orgasm. I exploded in his mouth, soaking his face, clenching his fingers with the walls of my cunt, screaming into the pillow. I was left drenched, bitten, trembling, breathless.

He climbed up my body, licking my belly, biting one nipple as he passed, and planted his mouth on mine. He made me taste myself mixed with him.

He gave me no respite. He grabbed me by the waist, hard again, and drove into me in a single thrust all the way to the bottom. I screamed against his neck. He opened me completely, and for a second I lay still, feeling him settle inside me, touching places no one had ever touched before.

“So tight, my love, you're so tight,” he panted in my ear. “I'm going to fuck you until you beg me to stop.”

He began moving slowly, pulling almost all the way out and thrusting back in hard, making me bounce on the mattress. He grabbed my tits, squeezed them, pinched my nipples while pounding into me again and again. Then he lifted me and sat me astride him, holding my hips and guiding my movement with his hands, deciding for me when to rise and when to lower myself. I rode him with my mouth open, moaning, my tits bouncing against his face. He latched onto one nipple and bit it while pushing my hips downward, impaling me deeper and deeper.

“Where do you want it?” he asked in my ear, grabbing my hair and pulling my head back. “Ask me for it.”

“Wherever you want,” I panted. “Wherever you want it.”

He turned me over, put me on all fours against the mattress, pressed my face into the pillow, and lifted my ass. He spread my cheeks with both hands, looked me over properly, and plunged into me again, this time even deeper. He drove himself in to the balls, and from there he began fucking me like an animal, grabbing my hair, slapping my ass hard enough to leave his handprint, muttering insults under his breath.

“You like it like this, don't you? Slut. Say it. Say you're my slut.”

“I'm your slut,” I sobbed into the pillow. “I'm your slut, don't stop.”

He ran his thumb over my asshole, pressing lightly, claiming territory, telling me without words that this would belong to him someday too. He pushed his thumb in to the knuckle while continuing to fuck me with his cock, and that double pressure made me come again, against my will, screaming his name into the fabric.

He let me fall onto my back on the mattress and sank into me one last time, all the way to the end, studying my face as though examining his handiwork. He looked into my eyes and came inside me, filling me, jaw clenched and letting out a long growl. I felt every pulse of his cock as he poured his semen into me, and I lay still, legs spread, letting him fill me.

He didn't ask me anything else. That night, there was no need.

Afterward, still inside me, he propped himself up on his elbows and ran his tongue over my lips.

“Next time,” he murmured, “I'll swallow it from you. And I'll fuck your ass. And you'll thank me for it.”

I nodded. I couldn't speak. His milk was running down my thighs, my tits were red from the bites, my hair was disheveled, my throat was hoarse. And I was already thinking about when the next time would be.

That was how it all began: a hotel by the hour, a room with a broken television, and a capitalized “hello.” An entire story of domination. His over me. And, to my own surprise, I didn't want it to end.