The Penthouse Submissive Let Me In at Midnight

The windows of my bedroom were still open when I finished the drink she had left half-finished. The night air drifted in slowly, but it wasn’t enough to clear the room of the thick smell of sweat, saliva, and sex that lingered there. I smiled imagining her returning with her head still spinning, trying to hide an impossible-to-explain delay from her mother.

I turned on my laptop and started going through what I had saved that afternoon. Among trivial messages and repeated photos, something interesting appeared: a friend of hers had written several times, insistently and with morbid curiosity, asking how things had gone with the “older man” she had told her so much about. I was already hard before opening anything, but what I saw made my cock spring stiff in an instant.

Her friend was a redhead, fair-skinned, with the brazen face of a woman who knew exactly what effect she had. Among the saved images I found a photo of her in a green bikini, squeezing one breast with one hand and spreading herself open with the other to show how wet she was, as if she were posing solely to feed other people’s fantasies. I laughed to myself. The girl from the penthouse wasn’t just obedient; she also had good taste.

Then the video appeared. I put on my headphones and pressed play.

She hadn’t even left the building when she was already recording herself inside the elevator. She focused on her open, still-shining ass, and with two fingers gathered the semen trickling between her cheeks and brought it to her mouth. Then she showed her stained lips and sent the audio to her friend in an excited, almost breathless voice, saying that no one had ever eaten her like that, that he had left her trembling, and that she wanted to do it again.

Hearing her call me master in private didn’t impress me as much as the natural way she bragged about having been used. She didn’t sound frightened. She sounded proud. She sounded possessed by what she had discovered inside herself.

I wrote to her immediately. Not to flatter her, but to put her to the test.

—Tonight, at one, I’m coming into your house. I want the keys under my car before ten. Your mother has to be asleep, and you’re going to wait for me ready to obey.

Her reply came quickly. She begged, hesitated, said it was impossible. I didn’t argue.

—With or without the keys, I’m coming. You decide whether I come in quietly or whether I have to knock and explain why I’m here.

I turned off my phone and stretched out on the sofa to sleep for a while. I didn’t need to threaten her any further. Either she hid, or she accepted her own desire. In women like her, humiliation doesn’t come from blackmail, but from the pleasure of surrendering when they can no longer keep pretending they’re in control of their own bodies.

***

I woke up before the alarm. I went down to the garage as calmly as if I were going out to buy bread, but inside I carried a dry, tense, animal excitement. As I approached the car, I saw the key ring resting beside the front wheel. It had a tag with the apartment number.

I ran my tongue over my lips.

There was one last message from her on my phone. Very brief. Very clear.

—I’ll obey, master.

I went back upstairs, ate a light dinner, took a leisurely shower, and dressed slowly. White shirt, light-colored trousers, clean shoes. I wanted to arrive smelling good, rested, and with a cool head. Before leaving, I sent her one more audio message.

—I want to find you showered, with no underwear, wearing a short dress. Nothing too much in the way of makeup. I want to be able to smell your skin when I get close. And don’t come before I arrive.

Her reply was almost immediate.

—Master, permission to touch myself.

—No.

I put my phone away and smiled. By then, there was no need to say much more. Her imagination would do the rest.

I walked along the boulevard instead of using the communal garage. If she was watching from above, I wanted her to see me arrive without hurrying, as if the whole building belonged to me. When I passed beneath a streetlamp, I looked up and caught sight of a shadow moving away from the penthouse terrace. Knowing she was watching my every step made me even harder.

I entered the lobby, nodded in passing to a neighbor coming out of the elevator, and went up alone. The clock read one minute to one when the doors opened.

I found her waiting for me with the door ajar.

She was an adult woman, not a girl, and that night I understood it better than ever. She had left every trace of innocence behind. She wore a short, thin-strapped dress covered in a muted shimmer, her hair pulled back, and sandals that lengthened her legs. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Or panties. It was obvious from the way the fabric clung to her body and from the dampness already marking the insides of her thighs.

—Good evening, master—she whispered, lowering her gaze.

I didn’t answer right away. I approached slowly, put one hand around her waist, and slipped the other between her legs. When I touched her, I found her drenched. Not wet. Truly drenched. My finger sank between her lips, and she let out a breath through her nose, trembling.

—That’s how I like you— I told her. —Open before I even ask.

I kissed her right there in the hallway, with the door half open. It wasn’t a tender kiss. I thrust my tongue deep into her mouth and ate at her as if I wanted to silence her with my lips. Meanwhile, I pulled her dress up from behind, grabbed her ass with both hands, and buried two fingers in her pussy. She moaned against my lips, and when she tried to drag me inside, I pulled away just enough to deny her.

—Not yet.

I turned her around and left her facing the hallway. I switched on the hall light. She immediately understood what I intended and tensed.

—If anyone looks through the peephole, let them see what you are.

I pulled one strap down, leaving one breast exposed, and began pinching her nipple while my other hand kept fucking her pussy with three fingers. She bit her lip, breathing faster and faster. When I pulled my fingers out, she took them from my hand herself and sucked them one by one without lifting her eyes from the floor.

I liked that more than any plea.

At last I entered the house and gently closed the door. The living room was dark except for a low lamp. Everything smelled of an expensive home: tasteful furniture, good liquor, clean leather, costly perfume. She waited for orders with her hands clasped in front of her stomach.

—I want a drink—I told her. —Bring me the best thing your mother has put away.

She obeyed without arguing. While she opened the liquor cabinet and searched for a bottle, I went out onto the terrace. The night was quiet, with the kind of silence found in a residential development where the only sounds are a distant elevator or a hidden cricket. The neighboring terraces were separated by high walls, but they weren’t completely isolated. If someone leaned out a little, they could see us. That made my cock hard again.

When she returned with the tray, I made her stand beside me. She held the bottle, glass, and lighter in both hands, trying not to tremble. I opened her legs with my knee and slipped my hand beneath her dress again.

—Pour without stopping your grip on this—I ordered, burying two fingers inside her.

She did it as best she could. She spilled only a few drops. She received a pinch on the thigh for her clumsiness and still didn’t complain. When she offered me the glass, I ran my wet fingers around the rim and then held it to her mouth.

—Taste it.

She took too large a swallow for someone unused to it. She coughed a little, her cheeks flushed, and I drank afterward, savoring the liquor mixed with the sour smell of her arousal clinging to my fingers.

—You’ll learn to serve better—I murmured. —And to take more.

I sat her on my lap, her back against me and her face toward the terrace railing. Her dress rode up to her waist. I pulled both straps down, leaving her breasts bare, and began playing with them while pressing my erection against her ass.

—Don’t move—I told her in her ear. —I want to hear you breathe while I use you.

With one hand I rubbed her clitoris slowly, in wet circles, and with the other I pinched one nipple until she gasped. Her ass began moving on its own, rubbing against my cock through my trousers. I let her do it for a few seconds, then gave her a sharp smack.

—Still.

She froze at once, though she continued trembling. I took the opportunity to lift her, bend her over the railing, and spread her legs with my foot. From behind, she offered herself completely: dress bunched up, breasts hanging, pussy gleaming between her thighs, and tight ass waiting for me.

I spat into my palm and spread the saliva over her asshole with two slow fingers, insisting until I felt it open just slightly. She moaned softly, her forehead almost resting against the metal.

—Relax—I told her. —If you resist, it’ll go in worse.

I pulled out my cock, rubbed it between her buttocks a couple of times, and let her feel the tip at the entrance. She gasped and gripped the railing tightly.

—Master...

—I’m going to break this ass again, and you’re going to swallow every inch of me.

I drove into her with one hard thrust. She let out a muffled cry and went rigid, her body taut. I held her hair from behind and gave her no time to pull away. I waited barely a couple of seconds, buried to the hilt, then began sliding in and out at a slow but firm rhythm, forcing her to get used to my size.

Tears ran down her face. So did moans.

—That’s it—I whispered. —Cry if you want, but open that ass and take it.

With one hand I kept pulling her hair, and with the other I moved down to her pussy. She was streaming. I rubbed her clitoris while continuing to fuck her from behind, and I felt her gradually relax, stop defending herself, and start moving her ass toward me in search of more. That was when I knew she was lost.

I fucked her harder. The sound of my balls striking her thighs mixed with her broken breathing and the faint creaking of the railing. Every time she tried to come, I squeezed her clitoris or gave her another smack.

—Don’t come.

—Please...—she breathed, barely audible.

—I said no.

Her body obeyed better than her mouth. She arched, opened wider, and pushed back with desperate need. I was already at the limit. I drove my cock all the way in several times in a row, without gentleness, and came inside her ass with brutal tension, biting her shoulder so I wouldn’t moan too loudly.

I stayed buried for a few seconds, breathing against the nape of her neck.

—Squeeze—I ordered as I slowly pulled out. —I don’t want to see anything come out.

She immediately tightened her anus, obedient, while trying to catch her breath. I turned her toward me and kissed her calmly, tasting the mixture of tears, alcohol, and arousal. Then I massaged her breasts and nipples, now reddened from the treatment, until I saw her relax a little.

—You did well—I told her.

She looked up, seeking approval like a starving animal.

—Is my master pleased?

—I’m not finished with you yet.

***

I led her by the hand down the hallway. The house was silent. First she showed me the kitchen, then the bathroom, and finally her bedroom. It was a tidy room, far too proper for what was inside her. As soon as I closed the door, she grew nervous again.

—Here?—she asked in a whisper.

—No. In the big bed.

She swallowed. She knew which one I meant. The master bedroom, her mother’s room. Nothing more needed to be said.

At first we entered with the light off. The faint glow from the hallway was enough to make out the sleeping figure on one side of the bed. Deep breathing. Motionless. Sound asleep from the sedative she had confessed, in a low voice, to putting in an infusion to make sure her mother wouldn’t wake.

I looked at her. She avoided my gaze.

—You took this seriously.

—I wanted to obey.

Hearing her say it like that excited me even more than her open ass on the terrace.

I led her to the other side of the bed and made her bend over the mattress, hands buried in the bedspread and ass raised. Her dress was bunched at her waist. I stroked her back, moved down to her buttocks, and spread her lips with my fingers. Her pussy was swollen, shining, throbbing with desire.

—This time, here—I murmured.

She let out a long, almost grateful moan. It was obvious she had been waiting for this all night.

I knelt behind her, spread her legs farther, and ran the tip of my cock over her entrance, soaking it with her own fluids. Then I pushed in slowly. At first she resisted. I felt the tight ring, the tension in her body, the restrained expression of pain. I continued inch by inch until I was buried inside her.

She brought one hand to her mouth to muffle a cry.

—No—I told her, pulling it away. —I want to hear you.

I began with short, measured thrusts to open her properly. Each one made her tremble. The mattress creaked beneath her knees. Her mother remained asleep less than a yard away, unaware of the wet sound of my cock entering and leaving her adult daughter’s pussy. The scene was so filthy, so forbidden, that it made me even harder.

—Look at me—I ordered.

She turned her head as best she could. Her eyes were shining, her mouth open, and the expression of pain and pleasure she could no longer hide was written across her face.

—Tell me what you want.

—I want you to fuck me, master.

—Clearer.

—I want you to open my pussy. I want you to break it. I want you to make me yours.

I wasn’t expecting poetry from her, and that was precisely what I liked. I gripped her hips tightly and began fucking her in earnest. Deeper. Faster. I was no longer entering a half-virgin woman, but a female opening herself to me without reservation. Every time I buried myself to the hilt, she let out a husky moan and pushed back, driving her fingernails into the bedspread.

I brought one hand to her breast and squeezed it without mercy. With the other, I moved down to her clitoris and worked it in time with my thrusts. The combination drove her wild almost at once. Her pussy squeezed me harder and harder, spasming as if it wanted to milk me.

—Master, please... I need to come...

I gave her ass a sharp smack.

—I’m not finished.

I kept pounding her pussy with my pelvis, making her body slam against the edge of the mattress. The sound was becoming increasingly obvious, but the thrill of doing it with another woman asleep beside us added a brutal electricity to every thrust. She began spouting nonsense between gasps, repeating “please,” “more,” and “don’t stop” as if she no longer remembered any other language.

I pulled out for a moment and made her turn over. She ended up on her back on the bed, her dress crumpled beneath her, legs spread, offering me her reddened, shining, used pussy. She looked beautiful in that filth. Beautiful and defeated.

I lifted one leg onto my shoulder and pushed back inside her. From that position I entered even deeper. She cried out, and I covered her mouth with my hand only long enough for her to contain herself. Then I moved it away.

—Gasp, but don’t scream.

I began fucking her with long, merciless thrusts, watching her tits bounce with every blow and her pussy open and close around my wet cock. I kept looking down just to watch it disappear inside her. That image alone was worth the whole night.

—Look at it—I told her. —Look at how it goes inside you.

She obeyed. She lifted her head, watched my cock disappear into her pussy, and bit her lip with an expression of pure addiction.

—I love it—she whispered. —Fuck, I love it...

That was enough to make me lose a little more control. I grabbed her thighs and spread her as wide as she would go. I fucked her faster, abdomen tense, feeling my orgasm rise from my balls. She was on the edge too; I could feel it in the spasms of her body, in the way she dug her heels into my back, in the way her clitoris throbbed beneath my fingers.

—Ask for it properly.

—Let me come, master. Please. Let me come on your cock.

I held her gaze for a few seconds, then nodded.

—Come.

She came all at once, with a husky moan that almost turned into a sob. Her pussy clamped down on me with savage force, trembling around my cock as she arched her back and clutched the sheets. I didn’t last much longer. I kept thrusting into those spasms a few more times and came afterward, emptying myself deep inside her, feeling the orgasm fold me inward.

We stayed that way for a few moments, pressed together, breathing hard.

Then I slowly pulled out. Some of my semen slid out and ran between her lips. She looked at it, fascinated, and brought two fingers to her pussy to gather it up. Without asking permission, she brought them to her mouth.

—Good girl—I said.

She sat up as best she could and knelt on the bed in front of me, her legs still trembling.

—My body is yours—she whispered. —Do whatever you want with me.

She didn’t say it like a memorized line. She said it like a woman who had just discovered the exact place where she wanted to fall.

I held her chin and forced her to look at me.

—Don’t get confused. This doesn’t make you anything yet. It means you’ve begun. If you want to continue, you’ll obey when I tell you to and learn to do it better.

She nodded immediately.

—Yes, master.

I made her climb out of bed and help me dress. While I pulled up my trousers and buttoned my shirt, she remained naked from the waist down, her dress crooked and her pussy still wet, still open. From time to time she bent down to kiss my stomach or brush her lips against the base of my softening cock. Not out of tenderness. Out of devotion.

Before leaving, I led her to the door and gave her one more kiss, slower, cleaner, almost affectionate. She rested her forehead against my chest.

—Will you come back?—she asked.

—If you keep obeying, yes.

I gave her the basic instructions: air out the house, take a quick shower if she could bear it, and sleep with my scent still on her skin. I didn’t want to leave visible traces, but neither would I allow her to forget what had happened when she woke.

She opened the door carefully. The hallway was just as silent as before. I looked at her one last time: disheveled, dress sitting crookedly, eyes glazed, and wearing an expression of surrendered satisfaction that wouldn’t disappear for days.

I walked back to my apartment with the calm of someone who had just closed an important deal. Only after I entered my home, when I was alone again, did I allow myself to smile for real.

That night I hadn’t gained only sex. I had gained something better: a grown woman handing me, without much need for pressure, the darkest and most honest part of herself.

And I knew it wouldn’t be the last time.