The Garment My Mistress Left to Subdue Me

The stairwell of the building was dark when I climbed up that night, and I knew every step by heart. I didn’t need the light. For months I had been learning to move through that stretch like a nocturnal animal, alert to any signal she might choose to leave me. Because Verónica never said things out loud. She left them for me to find.

That night the signal was on the top step.

A black lace garment, folded with deliberate care, waited right beneath the door to her apartment. I recognized it before I touched it. It was her panties. And they were folded the way she folded everything she wanted me to understand: with precision, with no margin for error.

This isn’t an accident. Nothing she does is an accident.

I knelt in the gloom of the landing, where any neighbor could have seen me, and that was exactly part of what she wanted. I took the panties with both hands, as one picks up something sacred, and brought them to my face. The lace still held her warmth. It smelled like her, that mix of clean skin and wet cunt that had been driving me insane for weeks. The gusset of the lace was damp, sticky, with a fresh stain that marked my lips when I pressed the fabric to my mouth. She had masturbated before leaving them there for me, or she had waited until her cunt was soaked just thinking about what she was going to do to me. Either way made my cock hard instantly against my fly.

I ran my tongue over the lace. I licked the stain hungrily, tasting the thick juice of her cunt in the mouth of the landing, with the back of my neck pressed to her door and my heart pounding. It tasted of salt and woman, a heavy flavor that stayed on my palate and made me swallow slowly. A low moan slipped out of me. A drop of pre-cum leaked out and stained my briefs. And she still hadn’t opened the door.

***

It had all started a year earlier, on the fourth-floor landing, when I offered to help her with the laundry basket and she looked me up and down with a calm that left me speechless.

—You don’t want to help me with the clothes —she said, without smiling—. You want something else. I can see it in the way you look at my hands. You want me to put them in your mouth.

I didn’t know what to answer. I had spent my whole life hiding that part of myself, that instinct to obey, to kneel, to belong to someone who knew how to command. And she had read it in a single exchange of glances, like someone reading a sign.

—Come to my place on Thursday —she added—. At ten. And don’t knock if you’re not willing to lick whatever I put in front of you.

I went up on Thursday. And the Thursday after that. And every Thursday since then.

***

Verónica was not cruel for pleasure. She was demanding, which is something different and much more dangerous. She taught me that desire properly administered weighs more than any blow, and that waiting could be a finer punishment than pain. That night, kneeling on the landing with her soaked panties stuck to my face, I understood that the test had already begun and that she was watching me from somewhere.

The door opened without a sound. A strip of warm light fell over me, and I did not look up. I had learned not to until she allowed it.

—I see you found them —she said above me—. How long did it take you to kneel? Did you lick them already?

—Nothing, ma’am —I answered, my voice rough—. As soon as I saw them. And yes. I licked the stain.

—Good. That saves me the trouble of ordering you to. —The sound of her bare feet on the wood raised gooseflesh on my skin—. Come in. But you come in like that, on your knees, with the panties still on your face and your cock out of your pants. I want to see you drag your hard cock across my floor as you come forward.

I pulled my pants down to my knees right there on the landing, the cold air biting into my thighs. I took my cock out, already hard, swollen, the tip shining with fluid. I advanced on all fours over the cold floor of her hall, with the lace pressed to my nose, breathing her in with every step, with my cock hanging between my legs and bumping my stomach with each movement. The humiliation of the posture didn’t diminish me: it ordered me, put me exactly where I wanted to be. Behind me, the door shut with a dry click that sounded like a sentence.

***

The living room smelled of candles and her perfume. She sat on the edge of the armchair, in a half-open silk robe and a glass of wine in her hand, and crossed her legs with a calculated slowness so I would notice everything. She wasn’t wearing anything under the robe. The shadow of her breasts showed through the silk and, when she crossed her legs, the line of her shaved cunt flashed into view and vanished in a blink, as if she knew exactly how long to let me look.

—Look at me —she ordered.

I lifted my head. Verónica was watching me with that half-smile that promised reward and punishment in equal measure. Her hair was tied up, her neck bare, and her eyes fixed on my cock, which twitched on its own every time I held her gaze.

—You’ve spent the week thinking about this —she said. It wasn’t a question—. I know because you wrote me three times and I didn’t answer any of them. How many handjobs did you give yourself thinking about me?

—Five —I admitted—. One every night.

—And you came imagining me doing what?

—Sitting on my face. Choking me with your cunt.

—That’s the right answer. —She took a sip and set the glass on the table—. The difference between what you want and what you need is exactly the space where I work. Come closer. Slowly. And don’t touch your cock. If you come before I tell you to, you go home with your balls full and you don’t come back for a month.

I crawled until I was between her feet. She extended one and set the sole on my chest, pushing just enough to test my balance and my patience at the same time. Then she lowered her foot to my cock and pressed it softly against my stomach, smiling as she saw me shiver.

—You’re leaking —she observed—. Look at you dirtying my instep. Clean it off.

I bent down and licked my own pre-cum off the skin of her foot, slowly, sucking between her toes, tasting the salty mix. She sighed in satisfaction and withdrew her foot.

—The panties —she said—. Give them back.

I held them out with both hands, my head lowered. Verónica took them, examined them with feigned disdain, and dropped them on the back of my neck.

—I’m lending them to you a little longer —she allowed—. But everything I give you tonight, you’re going to earn with your tongue. Starting now.

She slowly uncrossed her legs and spread her thighs. The robe slipped fully open and her cunt came into view, shiny, swollen, with the lips already parted by desire. She pinned me with her gaze.

—Come. Eat.

***

I threw myself at her with my head bowed, but before I could touch her with my mouth she stopped me by yanking my hair.

—Slowly. Flat tongue. Lick me all over before you go into anything.

I ran my tongue from her perineum to her clit in one slow stroke, tasting the juice running down her slit. Verónica moaned softly and tightened her grip on my hair. I repeated the movement again, and again, until her cunt was soaked with my spit and her own fluid, until I could feel the skin of her thighs trembling against my cheeks.

—Now suck —she ordered—. The clit. Gently. And don’t stop looking at me.

I closed my lips around that swollen bud and sucked carefully, keeping my gaze locked on hers. Verónica threw her head back, bit her lip, and pressed my face harder into her cunt with both hands. I licked her in circles, sucked her, ran my tongue between her folds, shoved the tip into the wet entrance and came back to the clit, obeying every tug on my hair, every push of her hips, every moan that set the rhythm.

—Put it in me —she panted—. Your tongue. Inside. Fuck me with your mouth.

I thrust my tongue into her cunt as deep as I could, moving it inside as if I were fucking her with it, feeling her walls close around my face. Her juice ran down my chin, soaked my neck, and I swallowed what I could and kept working. I brought my tongue back up to her clit and shoved two fingers into her cunt in one single thrust. Verónica arched and let out a long, broken moan.

—Like that, like that, like that… —she repeated, her voice trembling—. Don’t stop. Eat me. Eat me all.

I licked and sucked and finger-fucked her until I felt her trembling all over. Her thighs tightened, her belly contracted, and just when she was about to come she shoved my head away violently.

—Stop —she ordered, panting—. Stop. I’m not coming with you yet. You haven’t earned it.

I pulled back with my mouth soaked, my chin shining with her fluid, my cock on the verge of bursting between my thighs without having touched anything. She looked down at me, flushed, and smiled.

—Good boy. Good boy for stopping.

***

She stood and walked barefoot around me, slowly, measuring each step so I would feel her presence without quite seeing her. When she stopped behind me, she took the panties off my neck and slowly dragged them over my throat, over my shoulders, as if marking territory that already belonged to her.

—Do you know why I always leave you this and not something else? —she asked softly—. Because it’s the most intimate thing I have, and even so, it’s only a garment. It teaches you to desire what you can’t have and to settle for the shadow of what you want. Though today I’m making an exception. Today I’m giving you the body too. But only how I want.

—Thank you, ma’am —I murmured, and I meant it.

She sat back down in the armchair, but this time facing away, resting her knees on the seat and pushing her ass toward me. She spread her cheeks with both hands and showed me everything: her shiny, soaked cunt, and the tight pink eye of her asshole just above it.

—Lick it all —she ordered—. Start with the ass. Slowly. Put it there too. Your tongue deep inside.

I came up on my knees, grabbed her ass with both hands, and buried my tongue between her cheeks. I ran the tip in circles around the tight ring, wetting it with spit, listening to her moan in a different, dirtier way. I pushed with my tongue and the muscle gave slightly. She let out a rough moan.

—There. Like a little cock. Fuck my ass with your tongue.

I pushed my tongue into her hole and worked it in and out while my other hand went up and slid two fingers through her soaked cunt. I shoved them in to the knuckles and she started rocking her hips against my face, fucking herself against my tongue and fingers at the same time. The sound of her cunt gushing, the heavy smell filling my nose, the way her ass opened for my tongue… another drop escaped me, a thread of pre-cum fell to the floor between my knees.

—Stop —she panted again, and yanked me away by the hair—. Stand up. Against the wall. Hands up.

I obeyed, trembling. She stood up, turned, and faced me, her eyes bright, her lips swollen from biting them. She lowered her hand and grabbed my cock for the first time that night. A moan slipped out of me.

—Silence.

She worked it slowly, her thumb tracing my wet tip, spreading my own fluid all over my cock. With her other hand she squeezed my balls, measuring them, weighing them.

—You’re so loaded I almost feel sorry for you —she whispered—. If I let go for a second, you’ll come. Right?

—Yes, ma’am —I admitted through clenched teeth—. Yes.

—Then I’m not letting go.

She knelt in front of me. I looked down, disbelieving. Verónica almost never sucked my cock, and when she did it was always brief, a rare reward. This time she opened her mouth and took my cock all the way in at once, without hesitation, until I felt the tip against the back of her throat. My knees nearly gave out.

She started sucking me with hunger, her left hand squeezing my balls and her right hand braced on my hip to press me against her face. I trembled against the wall, hands clenched over my head, trying to hold on. She went up and down, built suction, pulled my cock out completely and licked it from balls to tip, and looked at me with those black eyes full of mockery, enjoying every second of my torment.

—Ma’am —I panted—. I’m going to come. I’m asking. Please, give me permission. Please.

She pulled my cock out of her mouth in one sharp motion and squeezed the base with two fingers, cutting off my orgasm before it could rise. I convulsed against the wall, panting like a dog, tears burning in my eyes from the sheer effort.

—No —she said calmly—. Not yet. Learn.

When I could breathe again, she stood and walked to the armchair. She lay back, opened her legs, and pointed to the floor between her thighs.

—Come. Put it in. But slowly. And don’t come until I tell you to.

I came up on my knees, grabbed her thighs, and drove my cock into her soaked cunt in a single thrust. She was so wet I went all the way in without resistance. We both moaned at once. Her cunt squeezed me, hot, slippery, throbbing around my cock.

—Move —she ordered—. Slowly. Like I taught you.

I started fucking her with long, controlled thrusts, pulling almost all the way out and then driving it back in until my balls were buried. Verónica dug her nails into my back and bit my shoulder. I held on with my teeth clenched, counting in my head, biting my tongue so I wouldn’t come.

—Harder —she panted—. Ruin me. Fuck me like you’ve been dying to fuck me for a year.

I let go. I grabbed her by the hips and started hammering into her with everything I had, slamming my cock all the way in with a brutal rhythm, listening to the wet sound of my cock sliding in and out of her soaked cunt, hearing her moan louder and louder. Her body shook in the armchair, her breasts bounced, and she gripped the backrest with both hands.

—There, there, don’t stop, don’t stop… —she repeated, her voice broken—. I’m coming. You’re making me come. Bastard, you’re making me come.

Her cunt clenched around my cock in spasms, squeezing me in a way that doubled me over. I felt her whole crotch soak through, felt my balls get wet. She convulsed under me, arched, and dug her heels into my ass, pushing me deeper.

—Now —she panted as she started to come down—. Inside. Come inside. Fill my cunt.

I let go with a guttural moan. I emptied myself into her cunt with short, desperate thrusts, feeling each lash of my orgasm fill her from the inside, feeling my semen mix with her fluids. She wrapped me with her thighs, pressing me against her, making me bury myself all the way in as the last spurts escaped me. I stayed on top of her, trembling, my forehead against her neck, my cock still inside and throbbing.

—Good boy —she whispered against my ear—. Good boy for holding out.

***

When I finally came out of her, a thick strand of my semen ran down her crotch to the armchair. Verónica lowered her hand, gathered it with two fingers, and held it in front of my face.

—Open.

I opened my mouth. She pushed her fingers in to the back and I sucked up what I’d come inside her cunt, mixed with her fluids, without looking away. She smiled in satisfaction and gave me a soft slap on the cheek.

—Very good. Very good. You’ve learned that the best thing I can give you is exactly what I decide to give you.

***

That night I slept where she told me to, on a blanket at the foot of her bed, with her panties still in my hands like a borrowed trophy. I didn’t feel humiliated. I felt, for the first time in a long while, exactly in my place.

Before turning off the light, Verónica leaned over the edge of the mattress and looked at me with something that almost seemed like tenderness, though she would never have admitted it.

—Next week I’m raising the bar —she warned—. Tonight was the warm-up.

—Yes, ma’am.

—And one more thing. —A slow smile crossed her face in the dim light—. I left those on the stairs on purpose. I wanted to know whether you’d be able to kneel where anyone could see you, with your cock hard and someone else’s cunt in your mouth. You were. From now on, I’m going to ask much more of you.

I closed my eyes with her panties against my chest and my heart pounding against my ribs. I knew I would do it. I would do anything she invented, because belonging to Verónica wasn’t surrender: it was the only place in the world where I could finally breathe.