I Didn’t Know Disobeying My Mistress Would Cost So Much

I was completely given over to Renata’s desires, and the strangest part was how much I liked it. We spent whole afternoons tangled up in her bed, kissing until our mouths went dry, and every time she took control I felt as if someone had finally put order in my head. She was my mistress. I was her submissive. There was nothing negotiable in that sentence, and that was precisely why it felt so addictive.

Renata didn’t raise her voice to give orders. One look, a snap of her fingers, a command spoken in a low voice while she poured wine—that was enough. I had learned to read every gesture like someone reads the clock, and obeying had become a form of pleasure I never imagined could exist.

The only rule was simple: I didn’t decide alone. Nothing. Not what I wore, not who I touched, not when. Everything went through her.

One afternoon Renata came home with someone new. A young woman, in her mid-twenties, recently separated, with that shyness of someone who still doesn’t know how much she wants what she’s only just beginning to taste. Her name was Camila. Renata had hired her as a helper around the house, but I knew that look well: Camila was already part of other plans.

—I want you to get along with her —Renata told me that first night, stroking my hair like a cat—. But remember who’s in charge here.

As if I could forget.

***

Camila and I were left alone one morning when Renata went out to handle work matters. There was no intention at first. We were talking in the kitchen; she told me her marriage had gone cold years ago, that her husband spent the day out and came back with nothing to say to her, and that since the separation she felt like a woman discovering her own body for the first time.

—I’ve never been with another woman —she confessed, lowering her voice even though there was no one else around—. But I think about it all the time.

I kissed her without warning. It wasn’t like kissing Renata; with her, everything is fire and command. With Camila it was slow, almost awkward, two mouths testing each other in the kitchen’s half-light like two teenagers hiding from the world. I felt her breathing change, turn shorter, and I knew she wasn’t going to stop.

I took her slowly. I opened her blouse button by button, kissed her neck, went down to the edge of her bra while she gripped the counter with white knuckles. When I slid my hand under her underwear and brushed her clit for the first time, Camila let out a moan that surprised even her.

—What are you doing to me? —she asked, half scared and dying for it.

—Nothing you don’t want —I whispered against her ear.

I sat her on the table and knelt between her legs. No woman had ever tasted her before, she told me later, and it showed: she trembled with every stroke of my tongue, buried her fingers in my hair, arched her back as if she wanted to run and stay at the same time. When I slipped a finger inside her while I was licking her, Camila came with a force that left her breathless, soaking my face, then looking at me with huge eyes.

—Did I pee? —she asked, red with embarrassment.

—No, sweetheart —I told her, smiling with my face still wet—. That’s something else. Something good.

We spent the whole morning wrapped around each other. I taught her how to use her mouth, how not to rush, how to know when to press and when to let go. We ended up sixty-nining on the sofa, laughing between moans, saying sweet things you don’t say to someone you’ve only just met. For a while I completely forgot the rule.

***

It was my idea to go buy lingerie. I wanted to see her wear it for the first time, I wanted her to feel desired, and I also wanted to surprise Renata. We dressed in miniskirts, stockings held up by garters, and delicate underwear, and climbed the mall stairs feeling men’s eyes pinned to us. Camila walked differently, more confidently, as if every compliment thrown at us confirmed something she had taken years to believe.

—So this was it —she told me in the car on the way home, with the bags in her lap—. Feeling like this.

I was laughing, delighted with myself. I had awakened a woman, guided her, made her come. I was so proud that it never even crossed my mind I had made one decision after another without asking anyone.

When Renata walked through the door and found the two of us wearing our new baby dolls, breathlessly and happily telling her about our morning, I knew at once something was wrong. She listened to us with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She bit her lower lip, and I knew that gesture: she was hot, yes, but furious too.

—Didn’t I tell you you would be my submissive? —she cut in suddenly, in a low voice.

I swallowed.

—Yes —I answered.

—Yes, what?

—Yes… you told me —I muttered, feeling the room shrink around me.

—And since when —she stepped closer— does a submissive decide on her own? Since when does she go out, shop, teach, and boss herself around as if she owned the house?

Camila, who understood nothing of what was going on between us, covered herself as best she could with her clothes, curled up on the sofa. Renata ignored her completely. I shot her a look like a child being scolded, and that seemed to ignite my mistress even more.

—Bring the leash —she ordered.

***

I went for the leash with trembling legs, and not from fear. I came back wearing a blindfold and with my head bowed. Renata buckled a collar around my neck, hooked the chain to the ring, and gave it the slightest tug, just enough to remind me who was in charge. With a snap of her fingers I fell at her feet, on all fours, my gaze fixed on the floor.

—With your husband you play hard to get —she said, walking around me—. You wear your prejudices like armor and leave him wanting. But here you’re acting like a teacher, showing this other woman how to spread her legs. —She stopped in front of Camila—. What would your ex say if he knew what you did this morning?

I saw Camila go pale. She was about to speak, but the first lash of the leash landed on my ass and I twisted by instinct, crying out.

—Where do you think you’re going? —Renata’s voice cracked like thunder—. Still.

I went back into position, this time lifting my ass, offering it. I took two more blows, burning, and between each one I apologized to my mistress in a voice I didn’t even recognize, a pleading voice coming from some very deep place. Each strike ran across my skin and pooled between my legs until shame and desire became the same thing.

Renata guided the chain toward Camila.

—Start with her feet —she ordered.

I obeyed. I took one of Camila’s feet and started licking her toes, one by one, taking them into my mouth while she writhed and looked at Renata, not understanding why it was turning her on so much.

—Higher up —my mistress said.

I moved my tongue up her calves, behind her knees, along the inner thighs. Camila was already breathing in short gasps, her hands gripping the edge of the sofa.

—Don’t stop —Renata insisted, her voice now thicker.

When I reached the edge of her underwear, Camila cried out, nearly in tears with impatience:

—Please… already… do something to me…

My tongue went into her and Camila screamed. Renata, no longer able to stand the role of judge, knelt behind the young woman and rubbed her chin against her clit while I worked lower down. Camila exploded between us, pulled us by the hair, pushed us onto the bed with her legs open, and threw herself at devouring one and then the other with a hunger she hadn’t had that very morning.

***

Renata fastened on a harness with a thick cock and mounted Camila on top of her, driving it into her slowly, watching the young woman’s face as she let herself sink down centimeter by centimeter. She ordered me to put on another harness, a smaller one.

—From behind —she said, parting Camila’s ass cheeks with both hands—. Slowly.

I placed the tip at her entrance and pushed in while Renata penetrated her from the front. Camila was screaming, out of her mind, trapped between the two of us, not knowing whom to push toward. Renata and I moved like the pistons of an engine: when one went in, the other came out. Seeing her like that, open between the two of us, was the most arousing thing I had ever felt.

At one point Renata ordered me out. I thought she was going to take my place with me, but she snapped her fingers at me and pointed to the floor.

—On all fours —she said—. Now it’s your turn.

—Renata, please —I murmured, looking at the harness she was putting on herself—. That’s too much…

—Too much? —She smiled—. You don’t get to decide that. Not anymore.

She ordered Camila to spread me open, and my mistress slowly pushed the cock into me with cruel patience, stopping when I begged, advancing when I begged her to stop. I felt the burn, the weight, the impossible pressure, and at the same time a current running up my back and fogging my head. Camila, quick learner that sly thing, was whipping my reddened ass with the leash while I took all of Renata.

—Are you going to boss yourself around again? —she asked, never stopping.

—No —I panted—. No, I swear.

—Whose are you?

—Yours. I’m yours.

Camila slid under me and caught my clit with her mouth while Renata kept thrusting, and I stopped fighting. I let go. The orgasm split me in two, and then another came, and another, while the three of us lay tangled on the bed, sweaty and shaking, laughing little by little like someone coming up out of the water after holding their breath too long.

Later, once we were calm again, Renata stroked my hair once more, slowly, like at the beginning.

—Next time you ask me —she said softly.

—Next time I ask you —I repeated, and I meant it.

I never thought surrendering control could feel so much like freedom. But there I was, with the mark from the leash still hot on my skin, thinking I would not want it any other way for the world.