The Night My Friend Turned Me into Her Slave

It had been more than a year since I’d seen Marina. Life had dragged us in different directions, so when she invited me to spend the weekend at her house in the outskirts, I didn’t think twice. Driving three hours along an empty road seemed a fair price to pay for seeing her again.

I arrived at dusk. I’d expected Diego, her husband, to be there too, but she greeted me alone at the door, a glass of wine in her hand and a smile I didn’t remember being so sharp.

“Diego went into town to see his grandparents,” she said, stepping aside to let me in. “We’ll be alone for a couple of days. I hope that doesn’t bother you.”

Quite the opposite, I thought, though I said nothing.

We had a light dinner in the kitchen while we caught up. Her two children kept running back and forth along the hallway until, around eleven, she put them to bed. When she returned, she brought another bottle and suggested going out onto the terrace, where the night air had cooled just enough.

We sat in two wicker armchairs separated by a low table. With a lazy gesture, she slipped off her shoes and, without asking permission, stretched out her legs and rested her feet on the edge of my seat, right against my thigh.

“Sorry for putting them on you,” she said, making no effort whatsoever to take them away. “I’ve been on my feet all day and need to stretch.”

“It’s fine,” I replied, my voice coming out raspier than I intended. “You know that.”

From that sentence onward, silence settled between us. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence: it was thick, charged, the kind in which words are unnecessary because everything that matters is expressed by pulse and breathing. I had secretly idolized Marina for years, and she, I suppose, had always known it.

I lowered my gaze to her feet. They were small, with high insteps, slender, long toes. Without thinking, I took them in my hands and began to massage them. It wasn’t a decision; it was an impulse I’d kept locked away for far too long.

“Mmm,” she murmured, closing her eyes. “Don’t stop.”

I had no intention of stopping. Feet had always been my weakness, one of those obsessions a person learns to hide, and hers were exactly what I had imagined so many nights. I caressed them slowly, pressing my thumbs into the soles, separating the toes one by one. When I heard her let out a low moan, I lost the last restraint I had left.

I leaned over and began to kiss them. First the instep, then the ankle, and then I ran my tongue between each of those slender toes, sucking them one by one, taking them into my mouth up to the knuckle and drawing on them as though they were little cocks. They tasted of salt and summer. Marina opened her eyes and looked down at me, amused, like someone who had just had a suspicion confirmed.

“So it was true,” she said softly. “I always thought you looked at me strangely. What I never imagined was that you’d suck my toes as if they were a dick.”

I didn’t answer. My mouth was occupied and my heart was pounding in my throat. I licked her entire sole, from heel to big toe, and noticed her beginning to squeeze her thighs, her lips parting slightly.

***

I moved slowly upward, leaving a trail of kisses and licks along her calves and thighs. I bit the inner side of her thigh, sucked the skin until it reddened, and when I reached the level of her underwear, I caught the hot, sharp scent of her already-soaked cunt. Marina let me do it, her head tipped back and a satisfied, feline smile on her face. When I reached her waist, I gripped her firmly and, in a movement that caught her off guard, turned her until she was on her knees on the cushion, leaning against the back of the armchair.

She was petite, very slender, and handling her took so little effort that I surprised myself. I pulled down the lower part of her sundress and her underwear until they hung around mid-calf. Her small, firm ass, her cunt glistening with wetness between her spread thighs—everything was exposed before me, trembling slightly. I opened her with my hands, pulling her cheeks apart with my thumbs, and watched that entire pink hole contract at the feel of the air.

“Do whatever you want to me,” she whispered against the backrest. “Tonight I’m yours. Eat me whole; don’t leave a single corner untouched.”

But we both knew that it was exactly the other way around.

I knelt behind her and began where she least expected. I ran my flat tongue across her ass, from bottom to top, one long, shameless lick that drew a strangled gasp from her. I went back more slowly and lingered at her asshole: I licked it in circles, pressed it with the tip of my tongue, pushed in and pulled out, fucking her ass with my mouth as if there were nothing more important in the world. Marina reacted with a shudder that traveled all the way up her spine. She didn’t pull away. On the contrary, she arched her waist to offer herself more fully, thrust her ass backward against my face, and let out little moans that mingled with the chirping of the crickets.

“You’re incredible,” she panted. “Keep going. Don’t even think about stopping. Stick it in deeper.”

I didn’t stop. I lowered my tongue to her cunt and ate her out completely, sucking her lips one by one, pushing my tongue deep inside and drawing out a thick string of juices that ran down my chin. I found her swollen clitoris and caught it between my lips, sucking it rhythmically without letting go until I felt her tremble. I slid two fingers into her cunt while continuing to lick her ass, feeling her flesh tighten around my knuckles, feeling how hot and slick and throbbing she was inside with every touch. I wanted to explore all of her, discover every corner of that wiry body I had desired in silence for so long. I didn’t need her to touch me, and I expected nothing in return. My only goal was to give her pleasure, and I knew exactly how to achieve it. Marina was completely surrendered, passive, letting herself be carried along by whatever my mouth and fingers decided to do to her.

When she finally turned around, her cheeks were flushed and her breathing ragged. Her thighs were glistening too, soaked with her own wetness and my saliva. She looked at me for a moment, as if assessing me, ran her thumb over her lips, and then slipped it into my mouth for me to suck. Something changed in her eyes. The amusement turned into command.

“At last I’ve found someone who enjoys exploring every corner,” she said, and the sweetness in her voice from the beginning was gone. “Every one, do you hear me? The cunt, the ass, the mouth. I don’t want you to leave a single one untouched.”

“Of course,” I replied, the word coming out on its own. “I’m your slave. I’ll do everything I know turns you on most.”

Something flared in her eyes when she heard me say that word. Slave. I had let it slip without thinking, but the moment I said it, I knew it was the truth—and that she had been waiting for it all night.

***

“Lie down,” she ordered.

It wasn’t a suggestion or an invitation. It was an order, delivered with the ease of someone accustomed to giving them. I lay on my back on the cool terrace tiles, and she rose with calculated slowness, enjoying my obedience. She took off her dress and her soaked panties and threw them in my face.

“Smell them,” she said. “You should know what the cunt that’s going to use you tonight smells like.”

I obeyed. I inhaled deeply, that wet fabric saturated with the concentrated scent of her sex pressed against my nose, and felt my cock grow so hard it hurt inside my trousers. Marina walked over and positioned herself above me, naked and slender, with small, firm tits crowned by two dark, erect nipples. I saw her legs on either side of my head before she squatted down and lowered her cunt until it rested against my mouth. The light weight of her body, the heat, the scent, the viscous wetness smeared across my lips—all of it clouded my senses.

“Now stay still,” she said from above. “I’m going to masturbate with your mouth, and you aren’t going to do anything except endure it. Stick out your tongue, leave it there, and that’s all. Understood?”

“Yes,” I mumbled against her.

I stuck out my tongue and held it rigid. She began to rub herself slowly, undulating her hips and dragging her open cunt up and down across my mouth. She rubbed her clitoris against my tongue, my teeth, my nose. My entire face was soaked, my chin dripping with thick juices, and I simply remained motionless, exactly as she had ordered, while she took what she wanted. The rhythm grew faster, her movements became rougher, and her hands clutched my hair for support. I heard her moaning louder and louder, no longer caring about the silence of the night, the neighbors, or the children sleeping inside.

“That’s it, just like that,” she panted. “Don’t move. Don’t you dare move. I’m coming in your mouth, slave. Swallow it all.”

When she came, it was with a long cry that cut through the air. Her whole body tensed over my face, her thighs squeezed my temples until they hurt, and I felt a rush of hot liquid fill my mouth and run down my cheeks. I swallowed what I could. Then she relaxed, trembling, her cunt still pressed against my lips. I thought we were finished. I was wrong.

Without getting off me, she straightened slightly and turned around, giving me her back. Now her ass was directly above my face, those two small, firm cheeks parting to show me her tight, throbbing hole. She glanced over her shoulder with a smile I hadn’t seen before, a mixture of challenge and absolute dominance.

“Are you really my slave?” she asked. “Let’s find out. Stick your tongue out again. All the way.”

I hesitated for barely a second. Then I obeyed. I stuck my tongue out as far as I could and held it stiff. She slowly sat down on my face, fitting her asshole directly over the tip of my tongue, and began rubbing herself again, now using my ass. I felt it opening with every movement, my tongue sinking inside her, the hot, elastic flesh squeezing it. It was her will, and by then there was nothing in me capable of refusing her. I ate her ass until I could no longer feel my tongue, until she grew tired of rubbing herself and decided it was time for something else. It was an intimate, raw act, a total surrender that neither of us had put into words but that we were both seeking. She marked me as hers, smeared me with her scent and taste, and I let her do it, feeling that it bound me to Marina in a way nothing before it ever had.

I’m hers, I thought. Completely.

When she was done, she remained for a moment gazing down at me on the floor, my face smeared with her juices, pleased, like a queen who had just confirmed the loyalty of her subject.

***

“Get on all fours,” she said, finally standing up.

She didn’t do it herself; she told me to. But then she leaned over the back of the terrace sofa and offered me her body again, silent and waiting, her ass held high and her swollen, open cunt between her parted thighs. I understood what she wanted without any further words. I knelt behind her again and kissed and licked her with a devotion bordering on worship. I buried my face between her cheeks, licked her asshole again while sliding three fingers into her cunt, and drew a thin stream from her that soaked my wrist. I bit her ass, sucked her clitoris from behind, and fucked her cunt with my tongue until I felt her come again, trembling and letting out a muffled growl against the cushion. The woman I had secretly desired for so long was letting me explore every part of her, and for me there was no greater pleasure than serving her.

When I finished, I expected a caress, a word, any sign that it had meant half as much to her as it did to me. Instead, she turned around and, with a sharp shove to my shoulder, pushed me aside like someone tossing a cigarette butt onto the ground. She lay me on my back again, ripped open my trousers, and pulled out my cock, so swollen and purple that I barely recognized it. She spat on it, spread the saliva with her hand in a couple of quick, crude strokes, and looked at me through narrowed eyes.

“Let’s see if you’re good for anything besides licking,” she said.

She climbed on top of me and impaled herself in a single thrust. I felt her hot, tight cunt swallow my entire cock all at once, and she let out a guttural moan when she felt me touch her depths. She rode me without preliminaries, her loose hair falling down her back, her small tits bouncing in front of my face, her nails digging into my chest until they drew blood, shaking herself with a fierce energy aimed solely at her own climax. I heard her squelch every time she sank down, every time her ass slapped against my thighs, and her cunt tightened in waves around my cock as if she wanted to milk me dry.

“Don’t come,” she panted, staring hard at me. “Don’t you dare come before I do. This orgasm is mine.”

I clenched my teeth and forced myself to endure while she used my body just as she had used my mouth. She brought her fingers to her clitoris and rubbed it while continuing to ride me, faster and rougher each time. When she came for the second time, she did so with her head thrown back and a deep moan that raised gooseflesh on my skin, and I felt her insides contract in spasms around my cock, squeezing me. I held on as best I could, my fingernails digging into the tiles, refusing to release a single drop until she gave me permission.

She didn’t give me permission. She stood up, leaving my cock outside her, wet and throbbing in the air, without even giving me time to finish.

And just like that, it was over.

There were no explanations. No embraces or tender words. She stood, picked up her clothes from the floor, and, without even looking at me, went inside the house.

“I’m going to take a shower,” was all she said, already with her back to me. “You can deal with yourself.”

I remained lying on the terrace for a while, my cock still hard and dripping thick semen onto my own belly, staring at the starless sky, my heart still pounding against my chest. I didn’t touch myself. I didn’t dare. I knew that even that orgasm no longer belonged to me, and that if I brought it on myself, I would only be stealing something from her. When I heard the bathroom door close, I got up, wiped my face with my shirt, dressed, and went upstairs to the guest room she had prepared for me. The slave’s room, I thought with a bitter half-smile.

I lay down in the darkness, my cock still stiff inside my trousers, listening to the water running on the other side of the hall. I knew she wouldn’t come. I knew that if I wanted to have her again, I would have to wait until she decided, until she called me whenever she felt like it, on her terms and hers alone.

And the most disturbing thing of all was realizing that this waiting, this uncertainty, this absolute power I had just handed over to her without conditions, was exactly what I had been seeking all my life. I closed my eyes and prepared to wait. Patiently. As a slave must wait for his mistress to call him.

Or decide never to.