I Walked Through His Door Ready to Obey Every Order

I stepped into your apartment one pace behind you and stopped in the doorway to take it all in. It was an imposing place, full of paintings and warm light spilling in through huge windows. It looked more like an artist’s studio than a home, though it had too much furniture to be entirely that. It smelled of wood and something citrusy, and I breathed slowly so you wouldn’t notice how much my hands were shaking.

—Sorry about the mess —you said as you headed toward what I assumed was the kitchen.

—Don’t worry, I’m the one invading your space —I answered at once, searching for a light tone that wouldn’t quite come out right.

—True —you replied, coldly, but with half a smile hanging on your mouth.

A shiver ran down my back from top to bottom. It was involuntary, an involuntary tremor I couldn’t hide, and I knew by your expression that you had seen it. Nothing escaped you. That was one of the things that had fascinated me about you for months.

You came back with two glasses of red wine and offered me one. I took it carefully, as if it might break in my nervous fingers.

—Cheers —you made the glass ring against mine and drank without taking your eyes off me over the rim of the glass.

I wasn’t going to be able to handle this. I wasn’t going to be able to, and at the same time I didn’t want to be anywhere else.

—Finish that and take off your blouse —you said.

It was your first order, and I obeyed. I drank the wine in one gulp, squeezing my eyes shut because I had never liked red wine all that much and even less at that speed. I set the glass on a low table and slowly unbuttoned my blouse, baring my breasts. Just as you had asked me by message, I wasn’t wearing a bra. You smiled when you confirmed it, even though you had already known in advance.

We had been talking about this for several months. About this kind of relationship, what it meant to surrender, about limits and the words that would stop everything if need be. Being submissive had always been one of my most private fantasies, one I had never dared tell anyone. “Not everyone can handle this,” you had told me the first night we brought up the subject. At the time I didn’t fully understand what you meant. That afternoon, standing in front of you with the wine going to my head, I was beginning to understand.

You took me by the chin and made me hold your gaze.

—When I speak to you, you’re going to answer, “Yes, my lord” —you said.

Before I could answer, you gave me a soft slap on the cheek. I closed my eyes, startled, more by the surprise than by the impact.

—Easy, pretty one, it’s not meant to scare you —you murmured, and kissed the tip of my nose with a tenderness that didn’t fit with anything that had come before.

And that was where I surrendered. I smiled, almost in love with that contradiction of yours.

—Yes, my lord —I answered quietly.

You let me go and told me to kneel. I did, on the rug, unhurriedly, while I watched you take off your belt and unfasten your pants. I tried not to let you notice the smile slipping out of me, but I was just as turned on as you were. Maybe more.

I brought my hands to your groin. I had spent weeks imagining that moment, dreaming of having you in my mouth, but we hadn’t been able to see each other all that time and you had asked me to wait. To hold back. That the longer the wait, the better it would be afterward. You were right, of course. You almost always were.

Your fingers tangled in my hair and pulled me out of my trance.

—Don’t do anything I don’t ask for —you said, again with that warm voice that unraveled me.

You ran the tip of your cock across my face slowly, tracing a path over my cheeks and closed lips.

—Open your mouth and stick out your tongue —you ordered, and this time your voice came charged with desire, but just as firm.

I opened as wide as I could and stuck out my tongue while you kept sliding over my face. I could feel my own saliva mixing with your taste. You tapped my tongue a few times and then, without warning, shoved all of it into my mouth at once. I made a muffled sound, trying to catch my breath, and I got a slap for my clumsiness. I looked at you with something like anger. You smiled and gave me another.

Those slaps. Were they really giving me pleasure? I closed my eyes as I felt my cunt growing wet on its own, just as you pulled your cock out of my mouth. I felt it drag hard against my palate and tasted the trail it left behind.

Saliva slid down to my breasts. With one hand you held yourself, gleaming with spit, and moved again across my whole face, giving me more gentle taps. I was dying inside. I wanted you back in my mouth, wanted to suck every inch you’d let me reach.

I started salivating so much I could feel the strings falling onto my skin. I saw you smile when you noticed how desperate I was.

—Do it —was all you said.

At once my hands and my mouth took turns touching you and licking you all over. I did it with a wild abandon I didn’t recognize in myself. Something about all of it made me enjoy every second, every ragged breath, every time your hand tightened a little harder in my hair.

—Faster —you said, and I obeyed without thinking.

You yanked my hair and gave me a harder slap than the previous ones. The shock cut off my breath. Before I could recover, you grabbed my nipples and twisted them. I let out a cry of pain that I tried to muffle by biting my lip, but I squeezed my eyelids shut at the stab of it.

—Apologize to me —you said.

—Sorry —I answered quickly.

Another slap.

—Sorry, my lord —I corrected in time, realizing in that same instant how much wetter everything between my legs was becoming.

—You learn fast. Faster than the others —you said.

I felt a sting of jealousy at hearing there had been others before me. Absurd, I know, but the idea annoyed me. You took my nipples again and placed your cock between my breasts, making it disappear between them. You slid over my skin with delicious slowness. I felt a little ache every time the tip bumped against my chest, but having you so hard and pressed against me soaked me through. You didn’t seem to care how wet I was. You wanted my mouth, and my mouth wanted all of you inside it.

You spat on me. I looked at you, once again with something close to annoyance. You spat on me again.

—Don’t wipe yourself —you said sharply when you saw I was already lifting a hand to do it—. You should be grateful.

And you slapped my breasts.

—Thank you, my lord —I answered at once, guessing what you wanted to hear.

—That’s what I like —you said—. Submissive for me.

You shoved all of it in again, almost without warning. I tried to breathe and couldn’t. I looked at you, hoping you’d ease up.

—Is something wrong? —you asked, with a calm that raised gooseflesh on my skin.

I shook my head and opened my mouth wider to breathe. In response, you pushed deeper. I felt you all the way to the back, leaving me almost no room for anything. Saliva dripped from my chin. You started moving violently, taking my head with your rhythm. Everything was wet: from my spit, from your taste, from a few tears that escaped without permission and vanished into all that dampness.

You pulled your cock from my mouth with a string of spit hanging from it. I tried to clean it and you yanked my hair, prying my mouth open with your fingers.

—Don’t use your hands. Put them behind your back —you ordered.

I obeyed. I crossed my arms behind me, offering you a trembling “yes, my lord.”

—Say you’re my whore —you said, aroused, while you touched yourself in front of me.

—I’m your whore —as I said it, a huge shiver ran from my feet to my head and a burst of pleasure shot straight between my legs.

—You are —you confirmed, and kept driving yourself to the back of my throat until you tore a gag reflex from me, one you prolonged mercilessly—. Lick it well, whore.

—Yes, my lord —I did what you asked without protest, licking every part of you, tasting you while you dealt out slaps to my breasts and my face.

—Don’t stop looking at me —you said.

And I obeyed. You brought me to the limit of air with your hard movements and I didn’t close my eyes no matter what happened. The more you went in, the wetter I got. The more blows you gave me, the more I felt like I was about to come too, without anyone touching me. And I loved that idea, that absolute surrender in which only what you wanted mattered.

—Stay still —you said suddenly.

You started touching yourself with one hand while with the other you pried my mouth open and pulled out my tongue. I stayed motionless, like a statue at your disposal.

—Stick it out properly and ask me for the milk —you ordered.

—Please, my lord —I said as best I could—, I want your milk.

I looked you straight in the eyes and saw how much you liked hearing it. I smiled inwardly, knowing you were pleased with my behavior. I opened my mouth wider, stuck my tongue out farther, and let out soft moans while I waited. Your movements became faster, more even, until you rested the tip on my tongue and let out a hoarse groan together with everything you had been holding back. It splattered my entire face, a little in my hair.

—Don’t close your mouth —you decreed.

The semen began to slide over my breasts. You smeared it on me with your fingers and pinched my nipples once more.

—Get dressed without cleaning yourself —you said, and left the room.

I got to my feet and did as instructed, trying without much success not to stain my clothes. My skin felt sticky, marked, and even so I didn’t want to erase anything. You came back wearing clean clothes and with the keys in your hand.

—Let’s go —you said.

I took my things and left your apartment exactly as you had ordered, without arguing, without asking for anything else.

—Good girl —I heard you say behind me.

And I smiled. Those two words stayed with me all the way home, repeating in my head like a reward I was already counting the days to earn again.