That Morning I Taught Her to Obey Underwater

Mariana and I woke tangled together, naked and still sticky from the night before. It was when I stretched, with the first light filtering through the badly closed blinds, that I remembered that night had been different. Not because of her, since she already knew my quirks, but because of me: after so many years of taking care of myself, of always putting a latex barrier between desire and risk, for the first time I had felt her with nothing between us. Skin against skin, my naked cock sinking all the way into her soaked cunt, and my cum emptying inside her in hot spurts that neither of us wanted to stop. It left a strange buzzing in my body, as if I had crossed a line there was no coming back from.

—You look like you didn't sleep at all —she murmured, without fully opening her eyes.

—I slept enough —I replied.

Enough to want more.

I lowered the sheet and found her crotch with my hand. She was still wet, swollen, her slippery folds coated with what I had left inside her hours earlier. I slid two fingers into her, and she arched her back with a hoarse moan, still half asleep, squeezing me with the hot walls of her cunt.

—You're all wet, slut —I whispered in her ear—. My cum is still leaking out of you.

—And I want more —she murmured, turning to suck my neck while searching for my cock beneath the sheets.

She gripped it firmly, squeezing from the base to the tip, then ducked beneath the sheet and took it all into her mouth. She sucked me slowly, without hurrying, letting me feel her tongue moving around the glans, her throat closing when she took me deep. I grabbed the back of her neck with one hand and set the pace, thrusting into her mouth until she gagged, strings of saliva hanging from her chin. Then I put her facedown, lifted her ass, and shoved it inside her without foreplay, taking advantage of the fact that she was still open and soaked from the night. I fucked her like that, gripping her hips, watching my cock slide in and out gleaming with her juices and the dried cum from hours before. She buried her face in the pillow to muffle her screams until she came trembling, squeezing me so hard she almost made me empty myself again. I held back. I pulled out, turned her over, and ran my wet cock across her lips so she could clean it herself with her tongue. She did it without complaining, sucking up every drop as if it were candy.

It was Saturday, and the borrowed house was silent. We decided to go for a walk, to clear our heads, although the heat was still there, latent beneath the clothes we put on without much enthusiasm. We wandered aimlessly until, near the station, we saw the discreet sign of a sex shop between a pharmacy and a pawnshop. Mariana squeezed my hand. Nothing needed to be said.

We went in like any couple entering an ordinary store, except that no couple walked those aisles with the look she was carrying. Lustful, incandescent, reading every shelf as if it were a menu. I chose something small and specific: a black silicone anal plug, just the right size for her to feel it lodged in her ass for hours without making her too uncomfortable. An idea for the day. She, on the other hand, swept half the counter into the basket before I could even see what she was putting in it.

—Are you going to tell me what you're carrying? —I asked.

—Tonight —she said, leaving the phrase hanging like a sweet threat.

We went down a long street to a bar with sticky tables and yellow light. I ordered two coffees neither of us touched. Under the table, I handed her the little box containing the plug. She opened it on her lap, looked at it for a second, and, without losing her smile, got up and went into the bathroom at the back. She took long enough. I imagined her with her skirt pulled up, spitting on the black silicone, pushing the plug against her tight asshole until it gave way. When she returned, she walked with a new care, a stiffness in her hips that only I understood, and gave me a look that said it's done, I've got it up my ass. Under the table I ran my hand along her thigh and slid two fingers between her legs, over her underwear. She was wet, soaked through. I gently squeezed the base of the plug through the fabric, and she jerked, biting her lip.

—Behave —I told her softly—, or I'll make it move right here.

The thrill of knowing her like that, marked by one of my orders, her ass filled in some random bar, kept me hard all the way back.

***

At the house, Mariana left the bags on the kitchen table and announced that she was going to buy something for lunch. The door closed, and the house fell silent again. I had an urge more vulgar than desire: I needed to piss, badly. I walked down the hall toward the bathroom, already loosening my belt, without thinking about anything else.

I pushed open the half-closed door and stopped dead.

Carla was in the shower.

The half-drawn glass framed her like a picture: water running down her back, steam clinging to the walls, the dark mass of her hair plastered against her nape. She was the other woman staying in the house that weekend, the one I had barely exchanged two sentences with, the one who had that sideways way of looking that I had decided to ignore. Until then.

She didn't startle. She didn't cover herself. She merely turned her head, fixed me with her eyes through the steam, and kept rubbing the bar of soap over her body, slowly, as if she had been waiting for me. The lather slid over her small, firm tits, their nipples erect and dark, and ran down her flat belly before disappearing into the black bush between her legs. Time jammed in the doorway, with me on one side and her on the other, neither of us making any move to stop what was happening.

—Are you going to stand there watching? —she said, and there was no embarrassment in her voice. There was defiance.

I closed the door behind me. That was all. Closing it was accepting.

She understood the click of the latch as an answer and raised the stakes. She soaped her small breasts, making them slip between her fingers, pinched her nipples until they stiffened, ran the foam down her belly and lower, to the wet bush. She spread the lips of her cunt with two fingers of one hand and began rubbing her clitoris with the other in slow circles, displaying everything pink and glistening between the suds. Every time a finger sank into her hole, she let out a low, hoarse sound that bounced off the tiles. She smiled at me between moans. She knew exactly what she was doing to me.

I wasn't thinking about my bladder anymore. I yanked down my trousers, let my underwear fall to my ankles, and grabbed my cock, which had been hard since the bar. I began masturbating against the steam, standing in front of her, spitting into my hand so it would slide more easily over the swollen glans. We weren't touching. We were a meter apart, and yet this was the most intimate thing I had done in a long time: two strangers masturbating in front of each other, sizing one another up, without a single word of affection between us.

—Faster —I ordered her, surprised by my own voice—. I want to see you come first. I want to see you come for me.

She obeyed. She pressed her back against the tiles, spread her legs wide, and pushed two fingers in up to the knuckles, fucking her cunt with her hand while hammering her clitoris with her thumb. Water ran down her face, into her open mouth, plastered her hair to her neck. Her moans turned into short, obscene pants, broken by isolated syllables. —Pig… look at me… look at me properly…

When her thighs tensed, when she arched her back away from the wall and a hoarse cry escaped her, which she had to muffle by biting her forearm, I knew she had come for me because I had ordered her to. She remained trembling, her fingers still inside her, slowly pulling them out, shiny and sticky, and brought them to her mouth to suck them without taking her eyes off me.

I couldn't hold back any longer. I crossed the meter between us, grabbed her wet head with one hand, and slipped the tip of my cock between her parted lips. She didn't hesitate: she swallowed it whole in one go, pressing me with her tongue against the roof of her mouth. I thrust into her mouth two, three times, feeling her throat close around me, and when I felt my cum rising, I pulled out abruptly and emptied myself over her face, in thick, hot spurts that landed on her forehead, cheeks, lips, and extended tongue. She didn't turn her face away. She kept it raised, mouth open, receiving it, smiling like someone accepting a prize. When I finished, she ran her fingers over her cheek, gathered up a white strand, and sucked it slowly.

—Tasty —she whispered.

***

I hadn't released the last drop when my body changed gears. The urgency that had brought me to the bathroom came back all at once, impossible to stop, and a hot stream burst from me and began watering her. For an instant I thought she would move away, that it would break the spell.

She did the opposite.

She threw her head back, ran her hands through her hair as if combing it with her fingers, and opened her mouth to taste it. The liquid slid over her lips, ran down her throat, streamed between her tits and over her belly until it disappeared down the drain, along with the soap, foam, and remains of my cum. I lowered the stream and watered her breasts, her navel, and her open cunt, which she spread apart with her fingers to receive it. She watched me while I did it. She wanted me to see how far she was willing to go, and I saw it, and understood from that gesture that this woman wasn't looking for a lover. She was looking for an owner.

When I had emptied myself completely, I lifted her chin and kissed her, a dirty, lingering kiss, pushing my tongue all the way in, tasting the mixture of water, soap, semen, and piss that she returned hungrily, sucking my tongue as she had sucked my cock before. Then I spat in her face, slowly, a thick gob landing right between her eyes and sliding down the bridge of her nose to her lip.

—You're a slut —I told her, my voice low and firm—. A pig who needs someone to set limits for her. Tonight I'm going to set them. I'm going to fuck you in all three holes, fill you with cum, and you're going to swallow it like you're supposed to. And now wash yourself properly, whore, because I don't want to smell you when I come back for you.

She didn't protest. She didn't frown. She licked the spit from the corner of her mouth with the tip of her tongue and lowered her eyes for a second, just long enough to let me know that the word “owner” was exactly the one she had been waiting to hear. She nodded slowly.

—Yes —she murmured—. Tonight. Wherever you want.

That single syllable, spoken under the water, was worth more than any promise. It was a contract. I would give the orders and she would obey them, and together we would discover how far that rope could be stretched before it broke.

***

I pulled up my trousers with hands that were still trembling a little. My heart pounded against my ribs, not from fear, but from that mixture of power and vertigo that only appears when someone gives you control over their pleasure and humiliation at the same time. Carla turned off the tap behind me and began drying herself, calm, as if what had just happened were merely the prologue to something much longer.

I opened the bathroom door and nearly collided with Mariana, who was returning with the lunch bags hanging from her arms and the breathless breathing of someone who had run up the stairs.

—I forgot the keys —she said, laughing at herself—. Are you all right? You're completely flushed.

—The hot water —I replied, taking a bag from her hand so she wouldn't see my face—. Carla's showering. Let her finish.

Mariana nodded without suspecting anything and went into the kitchen to unpack. By a meter, by the click of a latch, and by the cool back of a door closed in time, she hadn't discovered me. Such a narrow margin should have frightened me. Instead, it excited me even more. The secret was an extra layer of perversion, an invisible leash that now tied me to the two women in that house in different ways.

Behind the wall, the shower water continued to fall. Carla hummed something softly, satisfied, as she prepared for a day of waiting with her cunt still throbbing and the taste of my semen in her mouth. And I, leaning against the kitchen doorframe, watching Mariana put away the food without knowing a thing, with the plug pressed between my girlfriend's ass cheeks and the promise made in the shower buzzing in my head, began counting the hours until nightfall.

Because that night, I had promised, she was going to learn what it meant to belong to someone. And I intended to keep every word, with my cock, my tongue, and my hand.