The Initiation She Didn’t Expect from Her New Master

Elena had crossed the villa’s gate just as the sun was beginning to drop behind the cypresses lining the driveway. It wasn’t what she had imagined: she had expected something darker, more deliberately intimidating. The villa was large and white, with limewashed walls and pale wooden windows, and it smelled of damp earth and lavender.

Marcos received her in the doorway with the serenity of someone who has everything he needs exactly where he wants it. He shook her hand firmly. No kisses, no polite small talk. Just that handshake that said more than any welcome could.

—Come, I’ll show you the house.

The tour lasted forty minutes. The villa had three floors and a basement level that Marcos referred to simply as “the work room.” They went down a narrow staircase and Elena saw the hooks on the wall, the steel rings bolted to the ceiling, and, in the far corner, a massage table covered with a thick cloth cover. Marcos didn’t explain any of what she was seeing. There was no need.

In the basement kitchen, which smelled of thyme and long-simmered broth, Elena met Berta and Miriam, who were preparing dinner with the silent efficiency of people who had spent years in the same trade. After that they went up to the first floor: three guest rooms, all reasonably small. One belonged to Valeria, the young woman Elena had briefly seen in the living room when she arrived and who had returned her gaze calmly, completely devoid of curiosity. In the garage there were two vehicles and stacked boxes. In the study, Sofía was typing in front of a screen and nodded without interrupting her work when they came in.

The last stop was Marcos’s room.

Elena went in expecting to find it empty. Valeria was sitting on the edge of the bed with her hands on her thighs and her back straight. She wasn’t wearing any clothes. Her nipples stood hard on small, firm tits, and between her open thighs Elena could see her shaved cunt, the lips pink and glossy as if she had been wet and waiting for some time. She made not the slightest gesture to cover herself. She looked up at Elena for a second and then lowered her eyes again, as if another woman’s presence in that room was something she had long stopped finding surprising.

—Were you expecting something else? —Marcos asked, having caught the expression on her face.

—No —Elena lied.

On the dresser there was a tray with cold sandwiches. Marcos sat down in the chair facing the bed and crossed his arms.

—Before we begin, we talk.

***

There were four rules, and Marcos laid them out with the same precision he would have used to give technical instructions for anything else.

The first was the protocol for addressing him. In private or in the presence of people who knew the relationship, he would be “Master.” In front of strangers or people whose discretion Elena could not confirm with certainty, he would be “Sir.” There would be no exceptions and no room for interpretation after that night.

The second was the most important and the most concrete: Elena’s body belonged to him. That meant no part of her body could be used with another person until he had claimed it first. Claiming had a precise definition: that he had come in her, through her, or on her. Each part of the body was independent. If he had emptied his balls in her mouth but had not come on her hands, then her hands were still hers in the sense that she could not use them with anyone else.

—Tonight —said Marcos— I’m going to fuck your cunt and fill it with my cum so you can go back to Rodrigo tomorrow. But your mouth and your hands will remain pending. You won’t give him a handjob or suck him until I’ve come on them first.

—And he knows…? —Elena began.

—I’m not finished.

She closed her mouth.

The third rule: if she wanted to masturbate, she could, but she had to ask in advance and wait for an answer. Every time she stuck her fingers in her cunt, she would have to warn him. It wasn’t humiliation, it was structure. The fourth was the exit: at any moment, she could end it simply by saying so. No consequences, no drama, no explanations. The option would always be available.

When he finished, Marcos waited.

Elena raised her hand.

—Does Rodrigo know I’m here?

—He knows whatever you’ve decided to tell him —Marcos replied—. That’s your business.

—And if at some point I want to fuck him?

—You ask me first. I decide when and under what conditions he can put his cock in you.

Elena nodded slowly. Valeria was still on the edge of the bed, having not moved for the last twenty minutes, her cunt exposed and a thread of moisture running down her inner thigh.

—Anything else? —asked Marcos.

—No, Master —she answered.

The word took a second too long. He noticed. Elena knew he had noticed. He said nothing about it.

—Good. Now, the obvious problem is that you don’t have the first fucking clue what you’re doing. That much is obvious. So we start from zero.

***

What Elena had imagined that night would be like had very little to do with what actually happened.

She had imagined something like what she had seen on screens: leather, low-voiced commands, well-lit bodies, and a narrative order that advanced toward climax with script-like precision. What Marcos first asked her to do was strip and kneel on the floor. Not elegantly or loaded with symbolism. Elena took her clothes off with clumsy fingers while he watched without saying anything, and when she was naked he tilted his head to look at her tits, the nipples that had already gone hard without her really knowing why, and the trimmed triangle of hair between her legs. Then he pointed to the wooden floor.

—There. On your knees, palms down. And spread your legs. I want to see that cunt while you move.

—Come over here without standing up.

Elena moved forward. The wood was cold and hard beneath her knees. She felt the friction before she had gone halfway, and she also felt the way her cunt lips were outlined with each movement, opening slightly with the position. When she reached Marcos and lifted her gaze, she found his eyes without any particular expression, neither satisfaction nor cruelty. Just attention. The crotch of his trousers had bulged, a solid shape Elena couldn’t help glancing at out of the corner of her eye.

—The socks —he said.

Valeria leaned from the bed and, without taking her knees off the mattress, caught the edge of Marcos’s sock between her teeth and pulled gently. The sock fell to the floor with an ease that made it clear this wasn’t the first time she had done that. Valeria returned to position without saying anything, as if she had done the most natural thing in the world. Her tits bobbed for a second and then went still again.

—Now you.

Elena took longer. Her teeth slipped twice before she managed to get a proper grip on the fabric. The second sock was a little easier. Marcos waited without showing any impatience.

—Start on the instep —he ordered—. Slowly. You’re not cleaning, you’re licking. I want to hear how wet your mouth gets.

Elena stuck out her tongue and gave the instep the first lick. The skin was clean, with no strong odor. She repeated the motion, slower this time, and kept moving toward the toes, the spaces between them, the sole. She put his big toe in her mouth and sucked on it like a piece of candy, saliva visibly dripping down her chin, because Marcos wanted it that way and because she had begun to understand that half measures were useless. There was something in the concentration demanded by the exercise that emptied her head of everything else. She wasn’t thinking about Rodrigo or what she would tell him tomorrow. Only the texture of the skin under her tongue, Marcos’s breathing, which remained regular but was no longer completely neutral, and her own cunt, which had begun to swell and leak a thick wetness down the inner side of her thigh.

She stayed like that for almost a quarter of an hour.

After that, Marcos stripped. He did it without theater: took off his shirt, lowered his trousers and underwear, and Elena saw for the first time the cock she would have to learn how to handle. It was semi-erect, thick, with veins standing out along the shaft, and hanging between his thighs the heavy balls swung with an obvious weight. Marcos didn’t give her long to look.

—Face down —he said to himself more than to her, and lay face-down on the bed, his firm ass raised.

—Valeria, show her.

Valeria repositioned herself with the efficiency of someone who doesn’t need to think through the movements. She leaned over Marcos’s ass, parted it gently with her hands, and ran her tongue along the crease with a long, deliberate lick from perineum to asshole and back, unhurried and without any sign of hesitation. Then she focused the tip of her tongue right on the hole and started making small circles, pressing until the opening gave and her tongue went in a couple of centimeters. Marcos growled softly. Valeria took her tongue out, spat a thin strand of saliva onto the hole to lubricate it, and pushed it back in, this time fucking him slowly with her stiff tongue. Marcos extended an arm without saying anything.

—Enough. Come back.

Valeria straightened up with glossy lips and took her place.

—You already know how it’s done —Marcos told Elena—. Now you, until I say stop. And I want to hear you licking. If I don’t hear anything, you’re doing it wrong.

Elena moved closer. There was a moment of internal resistance she had to consciously push through, because the body takes longer than the decision. She parted Marcos’s ass cheeks with her hands, just as she had seen Valeria do, and stuck out her tongue. The skin was clean. What she had expected to be unbearable wasn’t at all, or at least not in the way she had feared.

She gave the first licks with little conviction, tracing the crease from top to bottom, until she dared to place the tip of her tongue directly on the hole. Marcos said nothing, but he soon noticed how his breathing changed with certain movements. She adjusted the rhythm and pressure based on that, trying to find what produced a reaction and what didn’t. When she started making circles with the tip of her tongue and pressing harder, Marcos’s hips tightened and a rough sound rose from his throat. Elena spat saliva the way she had seen Valeria do, felt the hole open a little under her tongue, and pushed the tip inside. It was, she discovered, less different from other things she had done than she would have admitted before trying it.

—Harder. Push it all the way in —Marcos ordered.

Elena obeyed. She hardened her tongue and pushed it in as far as she could, fucking him with it, tasting the neutral, clean flavor of a man’s ass, one who took care of himself precisely for this moment. Without pulling away, she took one hand to Marcos’s balls and cupped them, weighing them, massaging them with her palm while she kept her tongue inside. When her tongue touched the center for several seconds in a row and he made no move to pull away, when the only sound in the room was the sound of her own work, the wet smacks of her mouth against his hole, and the three of them breathing, something changed in the way Elena occupied that space. She felt her own cunt dripping onto the wooden floor. It wasn’t movie submission. It was something more concrete and harder to ignore.

***

Marcos stopped her after several minutes and made her kneel again beside Valeria.

—Mediocre —he said, without cruelty but without softening it—. Fixable. The problem isn’t willingness, it’s inexperience. That gets solved with time and practice. Stand up and open your mouth.

Elena obeyed. Marcos stood in front of her with his cock already fully hard, thick and vertical, and brought it to her lips without asking permission. He pushed the tip in and grabbed the back of her neck with one hand, not with violence but with authority.

—Suck. No teeth. Slowly at first.

Elena closed her lips around the head and started sucking it, her tongue moving along the underside. The taste was warm, salty, and the cock felt heavier in her mouth than she had anticipated. Marcos didn’t give her time to settle in: he pushed his hips forward and his cock went in past the halfway point. Elena gagged and he drew back a couple of centimeters, but he didn’t move away.

—Breathe through your nose. Again.

This time Elena relaxed. The cock sank in again, reached the back of her throat, and stayed there for two seconds before withdrawing. A long thread of saliva hung from Elena’s chin when Marcos pulled his cock all the way out.

—The balls too. Put them in your mouth.

Elena lowered her head, kissed his balls, and took one into her mouth, sucking carefully while she stroked his cock shaft with her hand. Then the other. When she looked up again, Marcos shoved his cock back down her throat and held it there for several long seconds. Elena felt her eyes fill with tears, not from pain but from the physical pressure on her windpipe, and saw Marcos watching them with a mixture of appraisal and satisfaction.

—I want to keep learning, Master —Elena answered when he let her take air again, hoarse and low-voiced.

—I know —he said—. If you didn’t, you’d have left a long time ago.

He turned to Valeria.

—Tonight she’s in your care. What she learns or doesn’t learn over the next few hours depends on you as much as on her. Start by teaching her how to eat pussy. Hers reeks of heat.

—Yes, Master —Valeria replied.

What followed was different in tone and rhythm. Valeria didn’t use humiliation on a whim but as a function. She explained before asking. She corrected without insulting. She said when something was good with the same neutrality with which she pointed out when it wasn’t. She lay down on the bed with her legs spread and parted the lips of her cunt with two fingers, showing Elena the glossy entrance, the erect clit, the inner folds.

—Always start here —Valeria said, pointing to her perineum—. A long lick up to the clit. Don’t touch it yet. Repeat until I move my hips.

Elena obeyed. She leaned between Valeria’s legs and stuck out her tongue. The taste of another woman’s cunt surprised her: clean, slightly metallic, intense but not unpleasant. She ran her tongue along the whole slit from bottom to top, avoiding the clit, and felt Valeria give a barely audible sigh. She repeated the motion five, six times. On the seventh, when Valeria shifted her pelvis toward her mouth, Elena enclosed the clit with her lips and began to suck it gently while moving her tongue in circles.

—That’s it —murmured Valeria—. Now two fingers inside. Curl them upward. You’ll feel a rougher spot. Press there while you keep sucking me.

Elena slid two fingers into her cunt and curled them. She found the spot, pressed, and Valeria moaned for the first time with some volume. Her cunt began to contract around Elena’s fingers. Elena kept sucking her clit with her mouth full of her taste, and felt Valeria growing wetter, until a small tremor ran through her legs and a longer moan escaped her. It wasn’t a huge orgasm, but it was an orgasm, and Elena had caused it.

Marcos watched them from the chair for a while, his cock in his hand, giving himself a slow wank without finishing. Then he got up and lay down on the bed.

—Come —he said to Elena.

She approached with her chin still glossy from Valeria’s cunt. He positioned her with brief instructions: arms stretched out first, then the position of her torso. He turned her onto her back, spread her legs, and climbed on top of her. His knees rested on her forearms and his weight immobilized her arms against the mattress. It wasn’t violence. It was architecture. Control built in such a way that her resistance worked against her without him having to make any special effort. Marcos’s cock hung over Elena’s face, his balls brushing her chin.

—Open.

Elena opened her mouth. Marcos lowered his hips and pushed his cock all the way to the back of her throat. Not violently, but without negotiation. He stayed there, blocking her air, for a handful of long seconds.

Elena felt the change in her own breathing: it became shorter, more watchful. It wasn’t fear exactly, though it shared some of the same components. It was the sudden awareness that she depended on him to regulate it, and that he knew it, and that this was exactly the point.

Marcos leaned toward her, let his weight block her access to air for a few more seconds, and then pulled his cock out.

—Breathe.

Elena drew in a long, forced breath, a thread of saliva running from the corner of her mouth to her temple.

—Again.

The second time lasted longer. Marcos fucked her throat with five or six thrusts in a row before burying himself all the way again and holding still. In the last few seconds Elena had learned that panic came before the body actually needed it, and that she could tell the difference between the two. When Marcos pulled his cock out again and let her breathe, he did so without the desperation of the first time. Her lungs were full, but the knot in her chest she had expected never came. Meanwhile Valeria had slid between Elena’s legs and put her mouth on her cunt, eating it with the same technique she had just taught her.

—Good —said Marcos. It was the first time that night he used that specific tone.

Marcos moved, took his knees off Elena’s forearms, and made her turn onto all fours. He gripped her hips with both hands, spread her ass cheeks with his thumbs, and looked at her exposed, soaked cunt for a moment before guiding his cock in with one hand. The tip slipped between the wet lips and sank with a firm thrust to the hilt. Elena let out a deep moan as soon as she felt the thickness opening her all the way.

His movements were slow at first, building tension where her body was still processing the mix of adrenaline and surrendered control. He fucked her with long thrusts, pulling almost all the way out before burying himself again, and Elena could hear the wet smacks of her cunt every time he went in deep. Marcos signaled Valeria where to position herself with a gesture and she obeyed without asking: she lay on her back beneath Elena, with her head between Elena’s thighs, and began sucking her clit while Marcos penetrated her. With each of Marcos’s thrusts Elena’s cunt brushed Valeria’s mouth, and Valeria licked them both, cock and cunt, without distinction.

Marcos’s instructions came in a low, precise voice, and Elena followed them without thinking too much, which she understood, was exactly what was expected of her. “Arch your back more.” “Stick your ass out.” “Ask for it.”

—Ask me to fuck you harder —he ordered.

—Harder, Master —Elena panted—. Fuck me harder.

Marcos grabbed her hair with his left hand, yanked her head back, and started thrusting harder, pulling his cock in and out with the wet, obscene sound of a cunt pouring. Marcos’s balls hit her clit with each thrust, alternating with Valeria’s tongue still working between the two of them. Elena began to feel something building deep inside, a pressure she hadn’t felt so clearly in years.

When Marcos came, he did it deliberately. He pulled out his cock, held it in his hand, and pushed it back in all the way twice more, slowly, looking her in the eyes without breaking his gaze while he emptied his load of cum inside her cunt. Elena felt it: hot, thick spurts, one after another, filling her completely. Valeria, underneath, licked up what spilled out when Marcos finally withdrew his cock, and cleaned Elena’s overflowing cunt with her mouth until it shone with saliva and cum.

Elena realized she was coming too, almost without having sought it, at the exact moment he pulled out. Her belly shook with contractions and a long, rough moan escaped her that she hadn’t planned. She didn’t say anything afterward. Neither did he.

—You can go back to Rodrigo tomorrow —said Marcos as he got up, as if closing a point on a list—. My semen is already inside. The cunt is mine and it’s already marked. The rest isn’t.

***

The three of them had dinner late in the room. Elena was still naked, her thighs sticky and a trail of cum still running down her when she shifted position. The cold sandwiches from the tray, a shared bottle of water. Marcos asked about Rodrigo, about Elena’s work, about what she expected from the coming months. She answered more honestly than she would have in any other conversation that week. Valeria ate in silence, and when Marcos asked her something she answered directly and without artifice.

Elena watched the two of them while she ate and understood that what she was seeing was not a pose or a performance. It was the routine of something that had been working long before she arrived, and that would keep working long after she left, if she left at all.

When the light went out, Elena was on the left side of the bed. Valeria on the right. Marcos in the middle. At some point, in the dark, she felt Valeria’s hand slide over Marcos’s stomach and down to his cock, stroking it with routine slowness, and Marcos turn his head toward her and put two fingers in her cunt without saying a word. Elena heard both of them change their breathing, the quiet rhythm of a sex that did not include her and also did not exclude her. She closed her eyes without moving, her own cunt becoming wet again against her will.

Elena took a long time to fall asleep. She stared at the ceiling and listened to the steady breathing of the other two.

Tomorrow you’ll talk to Rodrigo and you won’t know exactly what to tell him. She thought it without anguish. And the day after tomorrow you’ll come back here anyway.

It wasn’t love. It was something harder to name: something she had been looking for in the wrong places for a long time and that tonight, for the first time, she had found exactly where she least would have expected it.

She closed her eyes.

Outside, the wind moved the cypresses with a long, continuous sound, like the pages of a book being turned very slowly.