You got home at almost one o'clock. The apartment was silent, dark, as if even the walls knew you were about to collapse. You threw yourself onto the bed without even turning on the light, those damned tears burning your eyes even before you fell. You repeated in your head that you didn't want to cry for him. That you would never give him that kind of power.
You slipped off your shoes, feeling the muscles in your legs finally relax. Your skirt rose, the humid air caressing your thighs. You closed your eyes, and for a second, it was as if you could still feel Satoru's hands on you. The way he'd touched you, he'd used you.
But Choso....
Choso on his knees.
Choso begging you.
Choso cheating.
A moan escaped your lips as your hands clenched into fists against the sheets. You were wet. Fuck, you were wet, and you hated your body for it. You hated the fact that, despite everything, the mere thought of Choso humiliated, on his knees, ready to do anything to have you back, made your thighs clench with desire.
You slipped a hand under your panties, and your fingers immediately found the moist heat of your pussy. You began touching yourself with two fingers inside, imagining it was him, that it was Choso, kneeling at your feet, his tongue licking you as if it were the last thing he was allowed to do on earth.
Please mistress, let me feel that I am still yours...
His voice was in your head, like a moan, and you responded with a strangled moan, your fingers sinking deeper, your pulse moving faster and faster. And in your imagination, he nodded, his eyes shining, his lips parting slightly to respond, but you ordered him to be quiet. You ordered him to lick you. To make you come on his tongue, while you pulled his hair, while you called him a bastard, a traitor, a dog without a master.
Pleasure suddenly overwhelmed you, and you fell backward onto the bed, your body still shaking with small spasms, your heart pounding in your chest. You felt empty, dirty...and worst of all, you felt alone.
You turned your head to the nightstand, where your phone vibrated again. Another text.
Choso: "Please, Y/n. Give me another chance. I swear I'll do anything. I'm nothing without you. I'm less than nothing. I beg you, Y/n. Don't leave me like this. I can't breathe without you."
Choso: "I'll send you all the money you want. I'll buy you anything. I'll massage you for hours. I'll serve you as your personal slave. Just... don't cut me off. I can't live knowing you don't want me anymore."
Choso: "I love you."
The words burned your eyes. I love you.
You didn't answer.
Not then.
And never.
But as you turned off your phone and rolled onto your side, clutching the covers as if they could protect you from the whole ordeal, you knew one thing for sure:
it wasn't over.
Not for him...and sadly...
not for you either.
***
Two days after the terrible accident, the storm had been raging for hours, its thunder ripping across the sky like lashes, and the rain pelting the sidewalk with almost unheard-of violence. At that moment, you were lying on your futon, staring at the cracked plaster ceiling, your fingers absentmindedly scrolling across your phone screen. Choso's messages had piled up, one after another, and they were growing more desperate, more humble.
"Please answer me. I can't live without you", "I'm here, always here."
You'd read them all, but you hadn't responded to any of them. The anger was still there, like a knot in your stomach, but underneath, deeper, there was something worse: the desire. The desire to see him on his knees, to hear him beg, to make him pay for every second of that humiliation.
Outside, the wind howled, and between the crashes, you felt its presence. You knew it was there. For two days. Two days in which he hadn't eaten, in which he'd been reduced to a wet, shivering puppet, holding that stupid sign: "Forgive me, I love you," written in shaky handwriting, as if those letters were about to dissolve in the rain. You'd pretended nothing had happened when you'd gone out to buy some canned goods at the discount store, walking right past him without even looking at him. You'd felt his eyes on you, burning like wounds, but you hadn't turned around. You hadn't even spared him a glance.
Now, however, the storm was too much. Too strong, too cruel. Another clap of thunder shook the windows, and you heard a muffled groan coming from the landing. It wasn't a human sound. It was the wail of a wounded animal, of a beast no longer able to hide its pain.
You stood up slowly, your legs heavy, your body still reeling from that morning's orgasm, when you'd touched yourself, imagining his lips on you, his tongue licking you all over while you held him on a leash. You were wearing only an oversized Nirvana T-shirt, your thighs still sticky, your nipples hard under the thin cotton. You cared about nothing except showing him what it meant to cheat on you.
You pushed open the door with a sharp bang, not bothering to be gentle. The cold, humid air hit you, carrying with it the smell of food and rain. And there, curled up against the wall, was him. Choso. His clothes were soaked, his pants were glued to his lean, muscular legs, his chest was shaking from the cold, the muscles in his arms were tense and trembling. His skin was pale as wax. The black leather collar was cutting into his neck, the leash was on the ground, in a puddle of dirty water. The sign, now illegible, had fallen beside him, its paper reduced to a gray mush.
He raised his head slowly, his eyes red with tears but eager.
"Y/n…."
His voice was faint but beautiful, a sound that seemed to come from the depths of a well.
"Please..."
You didn't answer. You just stared at him, arms crossed and lips pressed together. He tried to move, to get to his knees, but his legs gave out, and he collapsed forward. His hands sank into the dirty water beside him.
"Please, Y/n, forgive me."
The plea was broken by a sob, as shivers wracked his body.
"I can't take it anymore..."
Another thunderclap. Closer. More threatening. The rain seemed to intensify, as if the sky itself wanted to do you a favor and drown it.
"Pathetic."
Your voice was cold, sharp as a knife. "Two days out like a stray, and now you expect me to welcome you with open arms?"
He shook his head, as drops of water splashed everywhere.
"No... no, I don't expect anything."
His long, tapered fingers, so different from the paws he sometimes pretended to have, gripped your shirt tightly.
"I just…I just want you to know that I'm yours. Only yours. Not Maki's, not anyone's. Yours."
You felt a jolt up your spine, and you knew it wasn't the cold. It was as if those words made you feel powerful. Invincible.
"What if I told you to leave?"
You asked, tilting your head to the side, enjoying the way his body tensed, as if he'd received a painful blow to the face.
"Then…then I'd leave." His voice broke toward the end. "BUT please…don't. Not yet. Let me…give me a chance to show you that I love you."
"Love."
You laughed, dryly, humorlessly. "You don't even know what that means."
You stepped back, leaving the front door open. "Come in. Before you get pneumonia."
He didn't need to be asked again. He dragged himself inside, leaving a trail of water on the worn floor, his body shaking so hard it felt like it was about to disintegrate. You kicked the door closed, then turned to look at him. It was a mess. Worse than a mess. But...you knew he was yours.
"Undress."
The command came out of your mouth automatically, as if your lips had moved on their own.
He hesitated for a second, then nodded, his fingers trembling as he undid the collar, letting it fall to the floor at his feet. His black pants were sticking to his skin, and he had to rip them off with a groan, revealing his naked body beneath: muscular, pale, marked with bruises where the wet fabric had rubbed him. His cock, despite everything, began to swell as soon as your eyes fell on him, as if just being looked at by you was enough to arouse him.
"On your knees."
He obeyed instantly, his knees hitting the floor, his hands gripping your thighs, his head bowed low.
"Thank you, Mistress."
"I'm not your Mistress."
You leaned closer, feeling that power coursing through your veins again like a drug. "You're lucky I let you in. After what you did, you should be out there licking my boots."
He groaned, and his cock hardened completely, now as hard as a pole.
"You know…you know I would do it for you."
You leaned down, gripping his chin with your fingers, forcing him to look up at you. His eyes were red, his pupils dilated, his mouth half open and panting.
"Do you want me to forgive you?"
You whispered, your lips so close to his ear you could feel his warm breath on your cheek.
"More than anything."
He swallowed, and you noticed his throat working convulsively. "I… I want to be your boyfriend."
The words came out in a rush, as if he'd been holding them back for years. "I want you to be my mistress, my girlfriend...my everything. I want to kiss you every morning, I want to lick your pussy every night, I want you to treat me like the dog I am, but I also want...I want you to look at me like I'm something more."
"A boyfriend, huh?"
You laughed again, but this time with a hint of cruelty. "And what exactly would you do as my boyfriend?"
"Anything." His voice was desperate, hoarse. "I'd pay your rent, buy you clothes, jewelry, anything you wanted. I'd kiss you everywhere, fuck you whenever you told me to, make you cum until you couldn't walk. But…" He broke off, breathing heavily. "But I also want to take you to dinner. I want to hold your hand. I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me I'm yours. Truly yours."
There was something so sincere in those words that for a moment you forgot you were angry. Then you remembered Maki. The place. The way he'd served her, just like he'd served you. The anger then surfaced again, burning your face.
"Good."
You straightened, letting go of him. "If you want to be my boyfriend, you'll have to prove it."
He nodded vigorously, his eyes shining with hope. "Anything. Tell me what to do."
You bit your lower lip, trying not to let him see you, as you watched his trembling body, his cock throbbing under his boxers; he seemed desperate for your attention.
"First lesson." You took a step back, then another, until you were sitting on the futon, your legs spread, your shirt rising slightly, revealing a bit of belly.
"Crawl over to me."
He didn't hesitate. He threw himself to the ground, his body moving awkwardly, his knees scraping the floor, those hands moving in sync, like a real animal. He stopped at your feet, panting, his face inches from your bare fingers.
"Lick."
You didn't specify what. You didn't need to.
He started with your toes, and you felt his warm, wet tongue move slowly, then he moved up your arch, lingering on the sensitive skin of your ankle. His lips closed around your heel, sucking gently.
"Good dog."
You whispered, but he reacted as if you'd given him a sacred command, moaning against your skin, his tongue trailing up your calf, leaving a trail of glistening saliva.
"Higher."
You ordered, growing incredibly excited.
He obeyed, his hands gripping your knees as his mouth reached your inner thigh. You could feel his nose brushing the damp fabric of your panties, his breathing becoming increasingly labored.
"Please…" he murmured, his voice muffled against the cotton. "Let me see your pussy. Let me feel how wet you are."
You hadn't responded, but he understood instantly. His fingers slipped under the waistband of your panties, pulling them down with slow, reverent movements, almost as if he were touching a relic. The cold air hit you right there, but the heat of his mouth was just inches away, ready to devour you whole.
"Oh, yes..."
You moaned as his tongue touched you with the lightest of touches. Then he became bolder, tracing the contours and licking away your already dripping juices, and the taste of you was driving him wild.
"You're so sweet..." he said, "let me lick it until you scream."
You said nothing. You let your desire speak for itself, as you opened yourself more and more, as you grew wetter and wetter. You moaned when he finally hit the right spot, and your hands clutched at his hair as you pulled him closer, forcing him to kiss you deeper.
"Yes, yes...just like that, good doggie."
You gasped, your thighs shaking. He groaned in response, telling you and begging you to cum all over his face. His voice was so hot and sexy, a voice you'd never heard him use before. He wanted you to drip all over him.
And it was that last sentence that made you collapse. Your hips rose up from the futon, pushing yourself against his mouth, your fingers clawing at his shoulders.
"Yes, yes, yes-"
The cry escaped your lips as your orgasm overwhelmed you, as you spasmed around his fingers and squirted all over him, lightly wetting his face, neck, and a little of his chest.
He didn't move, though. He continued to work, drinking every drop of you, completely drenched in your juices, and you saw him with his eyes closed and an expression…as if he were praying. Only when your legs stopped shaking, only when your breathing returned to normal did he withdraw, leaving you exposed and satisfied.
You propped yourself up on your elbows, looking into his eyes. He was a complete mess. His face was shiny, his eyes red from the rain and crying, his cock still rock hard, the tip dripping with cum.
"Good job, dog. But that doesn't mean I forgive you."
He nodded, his chest heaving. "I know."
"Do you want to be my boyfriend?" you asked, your voice growing colder. "Then you'll have to earn it. Every. Single. Day."
"Anything." He repeated, like a mantra. "I'll text you. I'll send you photos. I'll always beg you. I only want you, Y/n, and I'm not kidding. Only you. I'm in love…and I'm serious."
You stood up from the futon, feeling your juices dripping down your thighs. You approached him, naked and trembling with pleasure, and placed a foot on his chest, pushing him back until he was lying on the floor, his cock throbbing against his abdomen.
"Then start now."
You ordered, pressing your foot harder. "Now let's make a nice webcam video of you fucking me, so the whole world can see you."
He didn't hesitate. He grabbed the phone he'd left on the nightstand, his fingers shaking as he unlocked it.
"No, let's use my computer."
He nodded. You looked him in the eye, then leaned in, leaning close to his ear. "Good," you whispered. "Now wait while I tell you what to do next."
He closed his eyes. "Yes, mistress."
You smiled, feeling that power coursing through your veins, turning you on like never before. "And don't call me that." You bit his earlobe, hard enough to hurt. "Now fuck me, my love."