– Be ready at eight. –

– Yes, Sir. What would you like me to wear? –

What if I told her to step out of the house naked? Would Sharon do it? Would I let her? I stared at my phone for a few seconds before I typed my reply.

– Wear something to match your eyes. –

– Underwear? –

– Your call. –

– Thank you, Sir. I’ll be by the front door at eight. –

It felt strange to have someone so compliant–too compliant–but I figured it was part of the arrangement. All I’d ever known were Jessica’s rejections of every one of my requests that it was like I was caught in someone’s twisted idea of a Pavlovian experiment. At the sound of the bell, I’d expect rejection to every one of my demands.

I’d become a broken record, constantly replaying Jessica’s words and remembering how she’d look at me with shock and horror after every request. I needed to snap out of it and if I had to fuck every woman within a ten-mile radius just to get Jessica out of my system, I would. But of course, I wouldn’t. Not anymore.

I already had one, and she happened to be a submissive.

My submissive.

* * *

Sharon was ready at eight, standing by the door of her friend’s apartment building. I stopped long enough to double-park, open the door for her and get back behind the wheel. It had been like that since the first time I took her out to dinner and it just wasn’t my style. But Sharon had insisted, saying she lived north of 18th Street in the Mission District and she didn't want me parking a few blocks away only to get mugged just to prove to her that I was a gentleman. Still, if we were to see each other every time I was in town, we had to talk about her living arrangements.

Sharon wore a teal dress this time with a short pencil skirt and stilettos that could substitute as deadly weapons. She looked beautiful, out of place in an area of San Francisco known to be more bohemian. She needed to live somewhere else, somewhere that would suit her better than where she’d been crashing for the last three weeks. I couldn’t stop staring at her gorgeous legs and imagining them parted for me, my fingers in her pussy teasing her to the brink of orgasm only to deny her release until I said so. But first, I had something more important in mind.

“I hope you’re hungry,” I said as I eased the car into traffic.

“I am.”

“Good,” I said, my gaze drifting down to her breasts before I tore my gaze away and focused on the road. I’d have time to play with her tits later. It was a short drive to the Embarcadero and as I drove past the restaurants and into the underground parking garage of a high-rise building, I caught her perplexed look.

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

We entered the sparse lobby decorated in dark woods and chrome, with an Italian stone tile floor. I nodded to the doorman as we walked in and had her sign in the ledger before making our way upstairs to the 12th floor.

The condo was spacious and could fit up to four people. Right now, it was going to be for two people whenever I was in town and one when I wasn’t. The place was impeccably clean, every inch made of glass and steel. A leather sectional sofa was arranged in the living room before a teak coffee table. Mirrors and chrome were everywhere.

“Is this where you live?” Sharon asked as she stepped inside.

“No.”

She frowned. “So why are we here? Who owns it?”

“I do,” I replied.

“You own the apartment?”

“I own the building.” If Sharon was surprised, she didn’t let on. “Go look around. The view from the balcony is amazing.”

She went straight to the balcony overlooking Rincon Park with Cupid’s Span, a sculpture depicting a partial bow and a 60-foot tall piece of an arrow rising from the ground. Behind it was the Bay Bridge.

“You’re right. It is an amazing view,” she said as I stood a few feet behind her.

“It sure is. I especially like her ass.”

She turned her head to look behind her and smiled. “Thank you, Sir.”

“You’re welcome,” I said just as someone knocked on the door. “Stay here. I’ll get that.”

We could have gone out to dinner to one of the many places in the area but I’d been working all day and now, all I wanted was this—to be somewhere private and just be myself—with dinner delivered to my door.

“French-Vietnamese food okay?” I asked as I shut the door behind me and brought two baskets into the dining room. Sharon walked back into the apartment.

“Whatever you like, I’m fine with it, Sir.”

I looked at her sternly. “Sharon, we’re not in a scene right now. Call me Jonathan.”

“Yes, Jonathan.”

“So, is French-Vietnamese food okay?” I asked again.

“It’s perfect.”

“Why don’t we eat here?” I said, setting the baskets on the floor by the coffee table as Sharon went to the kitchen and returned with plates and silverware. The basket yielded a bottle of wine and while I opened it, Sharon set the warm food on the table, careful not to damage the finish by putting down place mats first. I liked how she was neat and tidy, careful with her movements. I liked how the informal arrangement and the spontaneous decision to have dinner in here instead of a restaurant seemed to disarm her. True, she was my submissive, but I preferred that dynamic in the bedroom until I’d become more confident. Right now, I just wanted to eat.

An hour later, with most of the food eaten and the rest put away in the empty refrigerator and the dishes stacked in the dishwasher, it was time to talk. It was interesting to see Sharon’s behavior shift the moment I changed my tone. She went from normal to submissive in a blink of an eye. They were subtle changes but they were there. One day I’d be comfortable with it but for now, I needed to figure out what the hell I was doing.

It had grown too chilly to stand on the balcony but not by the glass doors. As Sharon admired the view of the Bay Bridge, I stood behind her and brought my arms around her waist. I inhaled the scent of her hair, of neroli and jasmine. I felt my cock stir as she took a deep breath and sighed, her backside rubbing against the front of my pants. I took hold of her skirt and pulled, raising the hem higher above her thighs and bunching it around her hips. I could see her skin red from my hand the night before and knew she was probably still too sensitive for another round. But I had other ideas. Her ass wasn’t the only thing I could play with.

My hand drifted between her legs and encountered the soft lace of her underwear. I felt her wetness through the fabric. I nudged her legs apart with my foot.

“May I call you Sir?” she asked.

“Yes, you may. Now put your hands on the glass…above your head,” I murmured, unbuttoning her top and pushing it aside. Her nipples hardened instantly, pebbling between my fingers.

“Sir, people will see–”

“No, they won’t. It’s tinted. You can see out but they can’t see inside.” With the only light coming from a lamp behind us, even if someone could see something, they wouldn’t see much. They’d also have to have wings.

I lowered one hand to her pussy, rubbing her through her panties. Fuck, she was so wet. I pushed the lace aside and circled her clit with my finger. She leaned her head back against my shoulder, her chest heaving as her breaths grew shorter. I slid one finger inside her and then another, feeling her pussy clench around me. Her thighs quivered as I wrapped my other hand in front of her neck, feeling her pulse throb under my fingers. The power she granted me was intoxicating. It felt so right, so perfect.

“Sir…” she moaned.

Her breasts pressed against the glass as I pushed her forward, my hand pinned between her body and the window. “Don’t come until I tell you,” I said in her ear. She was dripping in my palm, my fingers finding that spot that made her beg for release. But I didn't want her to come. Not yet. I withdrew my hand and pulled her back, slipping my fingers between her lips. “Suck it.”

Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked hungrily, tasting herself on my fingers. She was putty in my hands, willing and compliant.

“Tell me what you want.”

“I want to come, Sir.”

I let her go and pulled one of the high-backed chairs closer to the window. “I want you to sit down and spread those legs for me. I want to see you.”

She looked dazed, her skirt still bunched up around her hips. She leaned on me as I lowered her panties, raising one foot and then the other as I slipped them off her. Then I guided her to the chair and she sat down, spreading her legs just like I told her. I knelt in front of her and pulled her hips down to the edge of the chair, lifting one leg over the armrest and then the other until she was open and on display for me.

“Are you comfortable?” I asked as I slid my arms under her thighs and cupped her breasts. It kept her in place in the chair, her pussy wide open for me, glistening with her juices.

“Yes, Sir.”

I tugged her nipples and she gasped, arching her back against the chair. I kissed the inside of her thigh. I smelled her desire, my cock straining against my trousers. I was supposed to talk things out with her, set the ground rules so we’d be on the same page. But I also wanted to hear her beg for me. I wanted her to scream and let me torment her until I gave her permission to come.

Fuck. Multitasking right now was out of the question. One day, I’d be able to do it–hold a conversation while going down on her, tell her how I preferred certain things while fucking her, even do business in Asia while fingering her–but today was not that day.

I’d have to work on that.

I started with a kiss right above her opening before flattening my tongue up to her slit and sucking on the swollen nub. She cried out, writhing in front of me as I pinched her nipples. Pain and pleasure in equal doses.

“We need to talk about our arrangement, baby,” I said as she moaned, arching her back off the chair. I sucked on her clit and she whimpered. “You’re going to teach me what you know. You and I are going to be good at this together. We’ll find our groove.”

“Yes…yes, Sir.”

I let go of her nipples to squeeze her breasts. I wanted her to do her best to listen to me even with everything I was doing to torment her. I wanted her to focus only on my words as I brought her close to orgasm. “I’m not going to be in town all the time but you’ll be ready for me every time I am. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.” She was breathing hard, her eyes shut as I sucked on her clit and licked her cunt. When she reached down to touch my hair, I caught her wrists and held them over her quivering belly.

“No touching me until I tell you to,” I said between licking and sucking till she was quivering in front of me.

“Yes, Sir. Oh…Sir,” she cried. She was right there, on the edge of her orgasm, but each time, I’d pull back.

“When we go out, you’ll call me by my name,” I said, letting go of her wrists and inserting three fingers inside her. She was so wet, so hot. “In here, in a scene, I’m Sir. Always your Sir.”

“Yes, Sir.” Her body tightened, her pussy clenching around my fingers.

“You’ll trust me and tell me everything. You’ll be honest with me, even if it’s uncomfortable. I don’t want you to hide anything from me and in return, I’ll do all I can to keep you safe,” I said, kissing the inside of her thighs as I continued to finger-fuck her, curling my knuckles inside her and hitting the spot that made her shudder in front of me.

“Yes, Sir! Oh, god…yes!”

You’ll be there for me, be ready for me.

You won’t reject me.

Or talk behind my back about the things I’ll be doing to you.

You. Will. Not. Humiliate. Me.

I withdrew my fingers from her cunt. I was out of breath, caught between the frustration of the past and the desire to fuck her senseless. I’d let someone else in the room, someone who had no business being there.

“Get up,” I said, my voice suddenly hoarse as I got to my feet. Anger coursed through me but I did not want to think of her, of the woman who’d denied me what I needed, what I wanted, who’d turned everything beautiful ugly.

I pulled Sharon to her feet when she was too slow to move. I turned her around so she had her back to the glass doors and pushed her down on the floor, on her knees. I unzipped my trousers. My cock bobbed in front of her face. I slapped her cheek with it and she opened her mouth, not needing any prompting.

“I’m going to fuck your mouth and you’re going to take it. Understand me?”

“Yes–”

I didn’t let her finish. I slid my cock into her mouth and she took me without hesitation, her hands clasped behind her back. With her blouse hanging open, her skirt bunched up around her hips, she was a vision to behold. I gripped her hair with my hands as I fucked her mouth the way I did the night before, only this time there was no tenderness, no doubt in my mind what I wanted to do to her.

Punish her.

Humiliate her.

Make her pay.

This was me. This was the way I was. There was no turning back.

Not anymore.

Sharon almost gagged and I pulled out, giving her time to breathe. I slid my cock back inside her mouth and kept it there, her nose touching my stomach. Drool slid down her chin, her throat pulsing around the head of my dick. When I heard her whimper, I pulled away again to give her time to catch her breath. Tears streamed down her face and she opened her mouth again, compliant, willing…submissive to my needs. I thrust my hips forward and pumped in and out of her mouth, my balls tightening as I felt my release nearing. I was close. I was almost there.

Three more strokes and I was there. I was coming.

I held Sharon in place, letting her milk my cock as I came. When I moved my hips back, my cock sliding out of her mouth, she almost fell forward, her hands resting on my thighs as she fought to keep her balance. She still had her stilettos on. In the moonlight, she looked beautiful even with her smeared mascara and dribble and cum running down her chin.

“Are you okay?” I asked when I finally caught my breath. A part of me couldn’t believe what I’d just done, at how roughly I treated her, making her pay for someone else. But there was no safe word, not a sign of refusal or rejection.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded. “Thank you, Sir.”

I brought my hand to her face, my fingers curling under her chin. I traced my thumb along her cheekbones and her upper lip. Her lips parted and she took my thumb in her mouth and she sucked.

As Sharon kept her gaze on me, I saw something I’d never seen on anyone else before. It was in her eyes and the way she gave herself completely to me. Gratitude–even if I’d just fucked her mouth without any tenderness, with no promise of release for her. Gratitude for being my submissive and accepting her punishment. Gratitude for being mine.

As I helped her up to her feet and pulled her to me, I promised myself not to be as hard on her next time. Still, everything about her made me feel things I hadn’t felt in a long time.

Wanted.

Needed.

Normal.