The elevator stops with a soft ping. Lukas steps out into a hallway of marble and dimmed light. His palms are damp, the fabric of his shirt clinging to his shoulders. Three months have passed since she looked at him in that bar—not fleetingly, but searchingly, as if she already guessed all his secrets. And now he stands before her apartment door, twenty-five stories above the city, his heart hammering against his ribs like a prisoner against the bars.
The door opens before he can ring. She stands there, in a black silk kimono that only vaguely drapes her body. Her smile is calm, almost maternal, but her eyes are those of a huntress.
“Come in, Lukas. I’ve been waiting for you.”
He steps inside. The room behind her is enormous, floor-to-ceiling windows revealing the city lights below. But he sees none of it. His eyes are fixed on her, on the way she moves, on how her kimono reveals a bit more of her thigh with each step.
“Sit down,” she says, pointing to a leather sofa. He obeys. She remains standing before him, looking down at him.
“Do you know why you’re here?”
“I—I think so.”
“Thinking isn’t enough. Tell me.”
He swallows. “Because I want to surrender myself to you.”
“Good. But do you know what that means?” She steps closer until her knees touch his. “It means that from now on, you do what I say. That your body belongs to me as long as we’re in this room. That I will push you, perhaps to your limits. And that you must trust me. Can you do that?”
Lukas nods. He’s read up on this in recent weeks, scoured forums, watched videos. But theory is nothing compared to the presence of this woman, who smells of expensive perfume and something smoky.
“I want you to undress,” she says. “Slowly. And then you’ll lie down on the carpet in front of me.”
His fingers tremble as he unzips his jeans. She watches him, motionless. He strips off his shirt, pants, boxers, until he stands naked before her. The air is cool on his skin, but he’s burning. He lies down on the fluffy carpet, face up, and looks up at her.
She smiles, a thin, knowing smile. “Good. You obey. But that’s just the beginning.” She unties her kimono belt and lets it fall. Her body is slender, muscular, with full breasts that rise slightly under his gaze. She is completely naked, and she wears her nudity like armor.
“Raise your arms above your head,” she commands. He does. She kneels beside him, her legs on either side of his head, so he lies directly between her thighs. Her sex is close, only inches from his mouth. He smells her, salty and sweet at once.
“You will lick me now,” she says. “Until I come. But you won’t stop when I come. You’ll keep going until I tell you to stop. Understood?”
“Yes,” he breathes.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Good.” She lowers herself onto his face. Her weight is light, but her presence is overwhelming. He extends his tongue and begins to lick her. She tastes intense, her scent filling his senses. He finds her clitoris, circles it with the tip of his tongue, first slowly, then faster. She moans softly, and her hands grip his hair.
“Yes, like that. Don’t stop.”
He licks her, sucks on her, feels her grow wetter, her body tensing. Her breaths grow shorter, her pelvis pressing against his face. Then she comes with a long, deep sigh, her thighs trembling around his head. But he doesn’t stop. He licks her through her climax until she pulls back.
“Stand up,” she says, her voice still firm. He obeys. She leads him into the adjacent bedroom, where a wide bed with dark sheets awaits. On the nightstand sit a tube of lube and a black, smooth object—a silicone dildo with a harness.
Lukas’s heart races. He’s never slept with a man. But that’s not the surprise awaiting him.
“Lie on your stomach,” she says. He does, pressing his face into the pillow. She screws the dildo into the harness, which she fastens around her hips. Then she pours lube onto her fingers and onto the silicone. Her hand strokes his back, his buttocks.
“I’m going to fuck you now,” she whispers in his ear. “And you’ll stay still. If you resist, we stop. But you won’t resist, will you?”
He shakes his head, face buried in the pillow.
She begins to stretch him with her fingers, slowly, gently. The pain is there, a burning pull, but it’s bearable. He focuses on her breath, on the sounds of the city outside, on the soft hum of the air conditioner. Then he feels the blunt tip of the dildo at his entrance.
“Breathe out deeply,” she says. He does, and she pushes in. A cry escapes him, half pain, half arousal. She pauses, giving him time to adjust. Then she begins to move, slowly, thrust by thrust. Each thrust sends a wave through his body, a mix of agony and pleasure he can’t categorize.
She fucks him hard, her pelvis slapping against his buttocks. He groans into the pillow, his hands clawing at the sheets. His own cock rubs against the bedding, growing harder with each movement.
“Don’t come,” she hisses. “Not without my permission.”
He clenches his teeth. She fucks him on, faster, deeper. His entire body is a single taut string. Then she stops abruptly and pulls back.
“Turn over.”
He rolls onto his back. His cock stands erect, the tip glistening with his own fluid. She smiles when she sees it and leans forward. She takes him in her mouth, sucks, licks, her tongue dancing around the head. He moans loudly, his pelvis lifting involuntarily. But she stops again.
“Not yet. You come when I say so. And I’m not saying it yet.” She mounts him, her wet sex over his, and lowers herself slowly. He enters her, and she rides him, her body undulating on top of him. Her breasts sway, her breath grows rough. She takes his hands and places them on her hips.
“Hold me,” she commands. “But don’t move.”
She rides him, she rides his control. Every muscle in him screams to move, to thrust, to come. But he obeys. He lies still while she rubs against him, until she comes again, and then again. Her body trembles above him, and he feels her moisture dripping onto his stomach.
She lies down beside him.
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