Obedience

The door's unlocked 

I press send and put my phone down. I climb the first few stairs of my apartment, turn, and sit down. I lean back, placing my elbows on the stair above me, move my feet to the stair two below. I’m wearing black heels that make my legs look longer than they already are. I place them wide on the step, open my legs. 

I hear the sound of the door opening moments before he comes into view. I watch him take me in. I’m wearing a patent leather bodysuit. A zip runs from the base of my breasts, all the way down my body, under, and up again, ending at my tailbone. The sheer lace that covers my breasts splits down the middle and is tied with small bows that press against my nipples. A thick, black choker collars my throat. His friendly greeting shifts, depravity emerging in its place. 

“Hi,” I smile sweetly. 

“You’re wearing heels,” he points out. 

“For you.” I can tell that he likes this. 

“How does that feel?”

“Powerful,” I admit. 

“You look powerful,” he says in a way that indicates he both admires and wishes to strip it. 

“I’m not,” I shake my head timidly, my power vanishing in the presence of his. Please let this make you happy, I think. Please want me. Please enjoy my descent into bashful defeat at the sight of you. Please, please tell me you want me. 

“No," he confirms, distracted, taking a step toward me. “That zipper, where does it end?” I smile, lift myself from the step and twist onto my hands and knees to show him. I feel the edges of the leather press into my ass, barely covering it. I shake my bum back and forth a little, to ease my nerves, to make him smile. I hear the hint of a laugh behind me. I relax, turn and sit back down. 

“Open your legs,” he says. I obey. He comes closer, drops to his knees between them and takes the end of one of the bows between his fingers, pulling until it comes undone. “Mmm,” he lets out, and kisses a nipple. He undoes the second bow, takes my breasts in his hands and squeezes gently, thumbing my nipples before bringing his mouth to one. I moan under his touch, arch my back, pressing my chest to his face. He pulls the lace to the side, exposing me completely before covering me again with his mouth. 

My nipples are hard and sensitive under his touch. “More,” I mumble, pressing the back of his head down, “please.” He bites gently before sucking away the pain and I squirm under his touch. I reach for him, but before I can pull his body towards me he stands and walks back down the stairs, drags a chair to the bottom of them, and sits. 

“Undo the zip,” he commands. Reeling from pleasure, I reach behind me, pull the zip down, drag it between my legs, and up until it reaches my belly button. I fight the instinct to close my legs, and keep them spread so he can see all of me. “Good girl,” he says from where he’s watching. “You know what to do." I bring my hand to my mouth, lick two fingers before bringing them between my legs where I rub them softly against myself. I hold his eyes with mine as I draw little circles around my clit. 

He watches me intently, hunger filling his eyes as they gaze over my body, taking me in. The leather covering my torso, my exposed breasts and open legs, coming to settle where I'm touching myself. I feel my body rouse under his gaze and move my hips in time with my fingers, pressing up against the pressure. Let your eyes devour me, I think. 

“Did you invite me here just to make me horny?” He asks, and I grin. I love it when he refers to himself as horny. There’s something so primal in the word, so insistent that I want him to take it out on me, use it against me. 

“Perhaps,” I mumble. A crooked half-smile appears, which might look endearingly shy on anyone else, but comes across only as unscrupulous on him. 

“Your pretty cunt looks ready for more than that,” he says, and I feel my face redden. He’s right, of course. I’m slick and swollen and throbbing; desperate for him, and he knows it. I watch him intently, his greedy eyes enough to make me bite my lip and catch my breath. I can’t contain a small groan, an assent. I think about what it will feel like when he finally presses himself inside me, hard and insistent against the resistance of my pussy that hasn’t been fucked in so, so long. The sounds that will escape us. The urgency. The bliss that will follow this torment. Fuck, I want him. 

“I love seeing this. You’re being such a good girl." His approval brings me an absurd amount of pleasure, emboldens me. 

I give him a wicked smirk and, pressing a finger inside my pussy, too briefly, before removing it again, I innocently say, “look how wet you made me.” As I hold it out to show him it drips onto the step between my heels, and I watch his mouth curl, fiendish. He shifts in his seat, readjusts himself. 

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he says. I bring my fingertips back to my clit, use them to soothe the building tension rising in me. 

“Tell me what you want,” I say. 

“Keep going,” he commands, “just like that.” An intense wave of satisfaction that he’s into this surges through me and I smile, relaxing into it. I close my eyes, arch my back, and tip my head back. I bring my right hand to rest on the skin just above my pussy, pulling it taut. I increase my pace and allow myself to feel the full extent of the pleasure I can give myself. 

No longer in my sight, I feel him watching me. I listen to the sounds of his measured breathing, which intensify my need. I open my legs wider, exhibit myself. “Good girl. Show yourself off for me.” You taught me that, I think. You taught me to crave your eyes on me while I display myself for you. Teach me more. Tell me how to please you. I’ll show you anything you want if it pleases you, I’ll do anything. Anything at all, just tell me what you want. 

“You’re getting me so worked up,” his voice cuts into my thoughts. I want so desperately to look up, to see how he’s affected. But he likes me like this, focused on myself. My breasts move in time with my strokes and I reach a hand up to caress one, a slight sigh slipping from me. I want him to think of this whenever he looks at me. Picture me with my legs open for him, touching myself while his words of encouragement and command make me wetter and wetter, make me ache for him. 

I want to see him, need to know if he wants me, if he’s pleased. “Look at me,” he commands, as though he hears my thoughts. I blink my eyes open and sit up slowly, place my hands on the step either side of me and let my eyes traverse the length of his body, not minding the obviousness with which I do so. I settle on the bulge beneath his jeans, sizing him up. He notices, but I don’t look away. My eyes flicker from his face to his cock and back again. 

“Do you like that?” I ask, a sly smile spreading across my lips. “Knowing how badly I crave you? How much I want to make you hard? How turned on it makes me to see you pressed against your jeans?” 

“I do,” he smiles, his air of confidence making my blood race. “But this is about you,” he says, slowly beginning to undo his jeans, “why have you stopped?” 

I place a hand back between my legs and say sweetly, “because I want you to fuck my pussy right now more than I want to be good for you. And I want to be very, very good for you.” Even as I say it I’m rubbing myself again, unable to defy him. I wonder if he wants to touch me or if he really is content with just watching. He unleashes his hard cock and I lick my lips at the sight of him. I’ve been waiting so long for this. 

“Is this what you want?” He asks, stroking himself. 

“Yes,” I nod, my wide eyes captivated. 

“Do you like watching me touch myself?” 

“Yes,”  I say, increasing my pace, the word coming out as a whimper. 

“Do you want to touch me?” He asks, taunting, denying me.

“So badly,” I manage. He stands, removes his shirt, and strides towards me. My eyes are fixed on him, my breathing uneven. I tilt my hips up as though he’s close enough to enter me. 

Standing over me he asks, “do you want me?”

“Yes,” I mouth. 

“Do you want me?” He asks again, his tone sharpening, that crooked smile again flashing on his cruel, beautiful face. 

“Yes,” I hiss, glowering at his mercilessness. He laughs, but prowls over me, running his hands up my legs before settling himself between them. He takes my hands and moves them above my head, holding them there resolutely. He reaches down between us and softly, too softly, rubs the tip of his cock against my clit, extracting moans of pleasure from deep within me. 

“Do you like that?” He asks, and I groan in response. “Do you want more?” 

I look up into his eyes, “please?” The imploring with which my voice is laced is barely recognizable. He slows his circles almost to a halt. 

“Do you want me?” His eyes remain locked on mine, piercing my soul. He’s lingering over me, so close, not close enough. I inhale the scent of him, savoring it. 

Earnestly, I tell him, “I want you.”  

“How often?” He nudges against my opening, the anticipation almost overwhelming me. 

“Every time,” I breathe, “I look at you.” 

“Do you want me now?” 

“I want you now,” I beg, “please fuck me now.” 

“I want you too,” he says, grabbing my hips, lifting them and thrusting into me as our mouths crash together, catching each other's cries of pleasure. His tongue caresses mine, hungry, wet, urgent. I feel myself opening for him as he inches forward, pushing deeper and deeper into me, possessing me with every heaving breath. His power over me lulls something deep within me, relaxing and pacifying me into a trance of euphoria, sending ripples of tingling pleasure through my entire body. 

He fills me so completely I can barely stand it. I'm burning to my core with every thrust as I melt under his touch. I never want this to end.

He pulls back to watch as he fucks me, bringing a hand to my face and dragging his thumb roughly along my bottom lip. I open for him, licking as he presses it into my mouth, then sucking, my tongue following his movement along my lip and back into my mouth again. He removes his thumb from my mouth, his hand landing heavily on the stair next to my head and I whisper, “you feel so fucking good.” 

He pulls out and surges forward again and again and I wrap my legs around his body to encourage him closer, deeper. The stairs dig into my back as he obliges me. I dig my fingers into his back, clutching hold of him as I feel him throbbing inside me. I don’t want to relinquish even an inch of him. I squeeze his cock with my pussy, aching, aching. He groans at the tension, the sound impelling me dangerously close to release. 

“Don’t stop,” I beg, “I’m so close.” 

“Cum for me,” he demands. 

“Uh huh,” I manage. 

“Good girl. Cum for me, cum on my cock,” a command that sends bliss cascading through me as I explode with pleasure. I feel my pussy tighten around him and his release follows a moment later. He crumples on top of me as we suck in breath.