Lessons In Obedience
Brandon couldn’t stop thinking about her.
The scent of her skin. The weight of her cock on his tongue. The way she filled him—first his mouth, then his hole—and the final whisper at the door that wrecked his sleep for days:
“You’ll be begging for my leash.”
And now, five days later, he was knocking on her door again, bottle of bourbon in one hand, heart pounding like he was about to audition for something he wasn’t sure he deserved.
Licious opened the door in a silk robe that clung to every curve and revealed the perfect outline of what he hadn’t been able to stop craving. Her hair was up, lips glossed, skin glowing.
She grinned.
“You look like you haven’t cum since I last saw you.”
Brandon swallowed. “I haven’t.”
“Mmm. Good boy.”
Her apartment was dim again, candlelit, music low and thumping. A clean joint burned in a tray beside the couch. She took a drag and passed it to him without asking.
He accepted it with shaking fingers.
“You been thinking about me?” she asked, straddling his lap.
“Constantly.”
She leaned in, her tongue licking a trail along his neck. “I’ve been thinking about you too… but not as much as I think about that tight little hole of yours.”
His cock jumped.
She noticed.
She always noticed.
“Tonight,” she whispered, “we go deeper.”
They drank. Smoked. Kissed.
Then she produced a tiny capsule.
“Want to go deeper-deeper?”
He nodded, already under her spell.
She dropped the molly on his tongue and chased it with a kiss. “We’ll let it simmer.”
As it soaked into his bloodstream, she led him into her bedroom—but this time, the lighting was different. Darker. Redder.
He noticed the shift immediately.
“I have rules tonight,” she said, drawing the black collar from a bedside drawer. “And if you follow them, you’ll get rewards.”
He nodded.
“No speaking without permission. No touching your cock. And you only cum if I allow it.”
“Yes, Goddess.”
She fastened the collar around his neck and led him to the edge of the bed.
She made him strip slowly, piece by piece, as she admired him with possessive eyes.
Then she stood.
Her robe slipped from her shoulders.
And again, there it was.
Her cock—thick, smooth, veined and beautiful, that uncut head swollen and already leaking. It curved upward with elegant menace, bouncing slightly with every step she took toward him.
She snapped on gloves, grabbed a bottle of lube, and pressed a plug against his lips.
“Kiss it.”
He obeyed.
She lubed it, spread his cheeks, and slid it into his ass in one slow push.
He gasped.
“You’re going to wear that while I teach you how to please me.”
She climbed onto the bed and lay back, her cock throbbing.
“Come.”
He crawled to her.
“Start with your mouth.”
He kissed his way up her thighs, tongue flicking her shaft before taking her into his mouth again.
She moaned, one hand resting on his scalp. “Yesss… you remembered how I like it.”
He sucked her slowly, tongue swirling under her head, lips tight around the shaft. She fed him more. He took it deeper. Then deeper still, his throat relaxing.
She reached into her nightstand.
Poppers.
“Breathe, baby.”
He inhaled.
The rush hit hard. Her cock slid all the way in. His throat widened, mind fogged, body buzzing.
She groaned and began fucking his mouth, slow but deep, her hips rolling, her head thrown back.
Brandon gagged once—then found rhythm.
She coated his throat with cum minutes later, holding him down as he swallowed, trembling.
But she wasn’t done.
“On your knees. Face the wall.”
He obeyed.
She removed the plug and replaced it with her cock.
The moan that escaped him was raw. She felt bigger this time—harder, deeper.
He tried to brace himself, but she pinned his wrists to the bed.
“You’re mine now,” she said into his ear. “Every inch of you.”
Her rhythm was brutal, controlled, relentless. She rode him until sweat dripped from her body onto his back. His own cock swung below him, untouched, desperate.
“You want to cum?” she asked.
“Yes,” he gasped.
“No.”
She reached under him, not to stroke him—but to hold his balls tight. Denying. Teasing. Owning.
When she came inside him, it was with a shudder and a growl. She emptied herself fully. Deep. Claiming.
He cried out, hips shaking. Cum spilled from his hole when she pulled out.
She shoved it into his mouth again, softening now, and whispered, “Clean me.”
He licked her slowly. Worshipfully.
Aftercare was quiet.
She lit a fresh joint and held it between his lips. He inhaled, boneless in her lap.
“You did so well,” she said, stroking his face. “You’re starting to understand your place.”
He nodded, dazed.
“You’re not just a boy I fuck,” she added. “You’re becoming mine.”
Before he left, she opened the black door.
Just a crack.
A glimpse of leather. Chains. A mirror.
He swallowed hard.
“That’s next,” she said. “But only if you prove you can handle it.”
Then she closed the door.
Kissed him once on the lips.
And told him to go home without touching his cock until she gave him permission.
To be continued…
