My Flatmate Trained Me Like Her Pet

Daniela was twenty-seven when she answered the ad. “Roommate wanted, woman, non-smoker,” it said, with a phone number below. The woman who opened the door was a forty-one-year-old blonde, tall, with dark red-painted nails and a way of looking at people that seemed to weigh the worth of everyone who stepped into her home. Her name was Marisol. She held out her hand, showed her the spare room, and before Daniela had finished deciding, she had already decided for her.

They shared the apartment for months without anything happening, or at least nothing that could be named out loud. They got along well. Too well, perhaps. Marisol worked at a shoe store downtown and came home with tired feet, and Daniela, not really knowing why, began offering to massage them.

The first time was almost an accident. The second, a habit. The third, the two of them knew perfectly well what they were doing, and neither said it.

Marisol was no fool. More than once, she had found Daniela’s underwear where it should not have been, still warm, hidden beneath a cushion or at the bottom of the wrong laundry basket. She had noticed how the young woman went short of breath whenever she crossed the kitchen in panties and stockings, under the excuse of the heat. She considered herself heterosexual, or so she had always believed. But the idea of that girl, surrendered, willing to do anything just to please her, lit something in her stomach that had nothing to do with what she had ever felt for any man.

So she started to tease. She came out of the bathroom wearing less than she needed to. She stretched her legs out on the table when they watched television. And Daniela, every time, lowered her eyes and bit her lip as if she were praying.

***

One Friday night, Marisol came home complaining. She dropped onto the sofa with a long sigh and unfastened her heels without looking at Daniela.

—I can’t stand my feet today —she said—. Twelve hours on them. And sweaty, believe me.

—I’ll massage them for you —Daniela answered, too quickly.

Marisol smiled up at the ceiling. That smile said everything.

—You’re a gem. But not here. Let’s go to my room, so I can lie down properly and really enjoy this.

Daniela followed her down the hall with her heart hammering against her ribs. The two of them ended up on Marisol’s bed wearing only panties and stockings, Marisol stretched out on her back and the younger woman on her knees at her feet, holding one ankle in her hands as if it were made of glass.

—You do that so well —murmured Marisol—. Though I shouldn’t let you touch my feet when they’re this sweaty.

—If they smelled bad, I wouldn’t have offered —Daniela said, and immediately regretted speaking.

—So you like how they smell? —Marisol turned her foot slowly and brushed Daniela’s nose with her toes over the stocking—. Is that what you’re telling me?

Daniela did not pull away. She closed her eyes and stayed still, with Marisol’s toes against her face, and understood there was no turning back now. After a moment, the blonde drew her foot away.

—I hope you don’t think I’m dirty for doing that —Marisol said, amused.

—Not at all. —Her voice came out hoarse—. I hope you don’t think I’m the dirty one for doing this.

And then Daniela tipped her face down and licked, over the stocking, the sole of her roommate’s foot.

***

—Oh, that’s lovely —whispered Marisol—. No one has ever licked my feet before. And you’re so pretty doing it.

Daniela’s pulse was racing wildly. She ran her tongue up the instep, down to the heel, found the space between the toes over the nylon.

—I’ve never done this to anyone before —she stammered—. But you’re so… so sexy. And I like it. I really like it.

—Shall I take your stockings off? —Marisol pulled her foot back again, playing.

Daniela nodded like a little girl being promised a present.

—I can’t believe I want to do this —she said, watching the blonde slowly pull her stockings down with calculated slowness—. Lick your feet. Suck your toes.

—First let me mark your face with them —Marisol replied, bringing both bare feet to her mouth—. I want you to carry my smell on you.

—Yes —cooed Daniela, rubbing her cheek against them—. Mark me. Like a dog marks what’s hers.

—I’d have to do a lot more than this to mark you that way —Marisol said, and the words hung between them, loaded.

Daniela grabbed one foot with both hands and licked it desperately, toe by toe, while the other woman watched her with a new expression, darker, more certain. Both of them already had their hands inside their panties. Marisol came first, with a deep moan; Daniela followed soon after, trembling, without stopping sucking.

***

Afterward they lay still. Daniela crawled over to lie on her side, cheek pressed against Marisol’s thigh and her nose a hand’s breadth from the blonde’s soaked cunt. She breathed deeply, dizzy from the smell.

—That was beautiful —Marisol said. She lowered a hand and stroked Daniela’s hair—. Was it for you too?

—Yes. Yes, yes.

Then Marisol did something that changed everything. She took Daniela by the nape and shoved her face against her wet panties, closing her thighs around her head, trapping her.

—I like you, Daniela. I like you a lot. And I know you feel the same. —She squeezed a little tighter—. This wasn’t a coincidence.

The young woman had her mouth against the wet fabric. Her heart was about to burst. Without thinking, she sucked the soaked nylon, searching for the taste beneath, and a shiver raced down her spine when she felt Marisol’s approving sigh.

***

They napped like that, tangled together, Daniela’s head trapped between her roommate’s thighs as if that were now her place in the world. When they woke, an hour later, Daniela still had Marisol’s scent burned into her nose and a dangerous idea lodged in her chest.

—What are you doing, naughty thing? —purred Marisol as she felt the young woman’s hands roaming her lower back, sliding toward where they shouldn’t—. I’ve sniffed you, marked you with my feet, and now you’re after more.

—I’d love for you to mark me completely —murmured Daniela against her skin—. To truly make me yours.

Marisol propped herself on one elbow and looked at her for a long time, weighing her again, as on that first day at the door.

—How far are you willing to go with me? —she asked—. Because I have ideas. Ideas not every girl can handle.

—All the way —Daniela answered, her voice broken with excitement—. I want you to mark me with your smell, with your taste. Like an owner marks what belongs to her.

—Good girl. —Marisol smiled, and the word “girl” sounded different in her mouth, like an order and a caress at once—. Lie on your back.

***

What came after erased the last border that remained between them. Marisol knelt over Daniela’s chest and held her face with one hand, forcing her to look at her.

—From now on we’re going to play a game —she said—. You’re going to be my pet. My little bitch. And I’m going to be your owner. Do you understand what that means?

Daniela swallowed and nodded.

—With words —Marisol demanded—. Properly.

—Yes. I want to be your little bitch —she whispered—. I want to obey you.

—Then ask for it. Beg, like a good bitch would.

And Daniela, red with shame and desire in equal measure, began to whimper softly, an animal, tiny sound that came from somewhere she had not known existed. Marisol closed her eyes for an instant, delighted.

—Good girl —she said, stroking her cheek and scratching behind her ear, the way you do with a dog—. I always wanted to have a pet. And they say bitches are more faithful than dogs. Are you going to be faithful to me, Daniela?

The young woman licked her hand in answer.

—I’m going to be a good, affectionate owner —Marisol continued, her voice low and firm—. But I demand obedience. Total obedience. You’ll have your rules and you’ll have your rewards when you earn them. Tomorrow we’ll go shopping and I’ll pick out a pretty collar for you, with your name on a tag. I’ll brush your hair every night. And when you misbehave, I’ll discipline you, because a good owner also corrects. They say the more a bitch is corrected, the more she loves you. Is that true, Daniela?

—Yes —she moaned, rubbing herself against Marisol’s thigh—. Yes, mistress.

The word “mistress” came out on its own, and when they heard it, both of them fell silent for a second, aware that something had just been sealed.

***

Marisol slid downward and sat astride her face, facing the foot of the bed, offering all her weight shamelessly. Daniela opened her hands to hold her, buried her nose and mouth in her, intoxicated by the heat and the strong aroma that surrounded her completely.

—That’s it —panted Marisol—. Mark yourself with my smell. Keep it with you all night.

Daniela moaned like the heat-struck bitch her mistress wanted her to be, and began to lick. She went up slowly with her tongue and then back down, lost in the taste, while Marisol rocked over her and dug her fingers into her hair to guide her.

—Don’t stop —she ordered—. Make me come with that tongue. Don’t you dare stop.

Daniela obeyed. She pressed her lips around her mistress’s swollen clitoris and sucked hard, over and over, until Marisol screamed and shook above her, grinding her face into her sex in orgasm. The young woman trembled with pure lust, rubbing herself, and came almost at the same time, without stopping adoring her.

***

When it was over, Marisol pulled away and stretched out on the bed, satisfied, one arm thrown across her eyes. Daniela waited for no instructions. Like the obedient, lovestruck pet she had just become, she lay face down between her owner’s thighs and rested her head there, shining with pride, while Marisol stroked her hair and spoke to her in a very low voice.

—A lot of pets sleep in a little bed in the kitchen —she said—. But not you, my little bitch. I love you too much for that. You’ll sleep curled up at my feet, in my bed, or with your little face here between my legs, ready to please your mistress whenever she needs it.

Daniela closed her eyes. This is what I always wanted and never knew how to name. She kissed the inside of Marisol’s thigh slowly, and felt as though she belonged to someone for the first time in her life.

Marisol yawned and, little by little, her fingers stopped moving in the young woman’s hair. She fell asleep with a faint smile.

And Daniela curled closer, until her nose brushed against her mistress’s dark cunt, and she fell asleep too, deeply, breathing in the scent she now considered her own: that of the woman she had chosen to obey.