“Wow,” Jen said, looking around, “this apartment is kinda shitty. I hope it has a shower at least?”

I wordlessly glanced back toward the bathroom, less as an answer and more as a reaction.

“Well, that's something at least.” Then, as if I weren't surprised enough, she stripped—right there in the living room, trackpants then bra. She tossed both at my face, and I caught them without verbal protest. “Those are kinda rank. Wash 'em for me, okay?”

Nude as the day she'd been born—no, wait, the day she'd come out of the box?—Jen strode into the bathroom, and then called back, “Or don't, if you're into that. Little pervert.” She shut the door, or at least I wish she'd shut the door. It was more of a slam, and I thought I heard something crack.

My head was spinning as I wandered over to the couch and slumped down, and the fumes from the gym clothes weren't helping. Jen was a real person? But no, stupid, the robot was missing from our closet. So someone was in the apartment, wearing Jen—but Robin had said she was out with friends, right?

The water started running in the bathroom.

Tossing the clothes aside, I returned to my bedroom and found my phone, ready to call Robin and ask what the hell was going on—but it buzzed with a communication before I could reach it. Robin had texted me first.

Hey, Mark! I am so sorry but my college friend Jen wanted to stay over for New Year's and she doesn't really take no for an answer so she'll be crashing there for a few days. She can be a bit domineering—she's the kind of girl who likes to show you how it's done—but I'm sure you'll find a way to push back if she's too much. Have fun!

PS: Safe word is still pomegranate.

I blinked a few times, but at least my head wasn't spinning quite as much. The reference to a safe word—something we'd adopted as I was still getting used to the suit's strength, and Robin had needed a way to distinguish between fun pain and real pain—was all the confirmation I needed. Robin was the one in Jen, which I guess meant the New Year's trip had been a clever fabrication.

The biggest question had been struck down, but like a hydra's heads, several further questions were already growing. Where had she gotten the clothes, the workout equipment? If Robin wanted to use Jen so much, why didn't she just ask? And perhaps most of all—

Why are you acting like plain old Mark in a woman suit?

Was this tied into what Robin seemed to think of as my, uh, performance issues? Was this me screwing up as Jen, and having the keys taken away from me? Was this—

The water shut off. That alone wasn't enough to break me out of my self-doubting spiral. What was enough was when the bathroom door slammed open and Jen emerged, still bare naked and still soaking wet.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I said, scrambling out of the bedroom. “You're dripping water all over the floor!”

She glanced at me. “So?”

“So you have to dry off first!” Why would Robin not dry off?

“Yeah, uh, no.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Towel drying messes up the mane. Better to air dry.”

“Then what about the rest of you?” I gestured to the other seven feet of dripping tan skin.

She stared at me, then smirked and turned toward the fridge. “You're a funny little man. Dry me off yourself if you care about it that much, pussy.” She yanked on the fridge door and leaned down, exposing everything. “You got eggs? I go through eggs like that guy from Beauty and the Beast.”

“For the love of—” I went to the bathroom and grabbed the largest towel. Jen was still at the refrigerator when I got out, so at least all the water was pooling in one spot. I started mopping it up with the towel, not looking at her assets, but then I heard a shaking sound from above me. “Come on!” I complained, as a sudden fresh rainfall basically undid all my progress.

“Oops. Sorry,” Jen lied. When I looked up, the smirk on her face had upgraded to sadistic. The nerve of this woman, barging into an apartment and making a mess and she didn't even live here—

That was Robin in there. I knew it was Robin in there. And yet, in that moment, I had just forgotten.

I stared up for several seconds. Right between Jen's dripping legs.

Jen noticed and smirked. “Yeah, I get that a lot. Wish you had a body like this, huh? Now get toweling, pussy, and if you mess up my hair I'll kick your ass.”

I got toweling. I was kind of expecting it to be a sort of shared experience, something Robin and I could have fun with while I rubbed her body in all of her most intimate places.

If only Jen had given a shit. What might have been a sensual experience ended up being more like a chore as I dried her legs, made an attempt on her torso and breasts, but more or less gave up on her arms. She was using those arms to pick through my and Robin's fridge, and tossing stuff out when it wasn't what she wanted—which was most of the contents of the fridge. At least she was standing still, even if her arms didn't stop moving.

Finally, as she stood up with her breakfast ingredients, I was basically done. As I made to get a fresh towel for all the water that had dripped, however, she grabbed me with one arm and pulled me close. I should say here that my head was roughly level with her breasts.

“You're a real helpful guy,” she purred. “Does Robin get this sort of special treatment, or... how does that old song go? Don'tcha wish your girlfriend was hot like me?”

I squirmed in her grasp, because I literally couldn't breathe in that position. Ten seconds later, when she laughed and released me, I had to heave a big breath, and then a few smaller breaths to make sure. Then I looked down and realized I was at half mast under my boxers.

I retreated to the bathroom as Jen got to making her breakfast, and I got a second towel. Cleaning up the rest of the spilled water didn't take too long, and I was able to stand up in time to see her rip apart my last egg into the pan. Then she grabbed the pan, turning the handle into pulp. “Hey!” I exclaimed.

“Whoops,” she said, still smiling as she let go. “Guess you'd better make it for me, unless you want me to keep using all your wimpy fucking cookware.”

She gestured toward the pan in mocking imitation of a concierge, inviting me. With a growl, I took the sadly distorted handle and got cooking. It was a massive omelet, composed of an entire dozen eggs and various meats and cheeses besides, but it was pretty clear by now that it wouldn't be big enough to share.

“Pussy,” Jen whispered from the seat she'd taken at the kitchen island. If it was any consolation, my manhood wasn't interested anymore, so at least that wasn't getting in the way.

When I was done, I didn't bother splitting the omelet onto two plates, but slid it onto one big one. “There you go,” Jen crowed as I put it in front of her along with cutlery. “I knew there had to be a reason Robin kept you around.”

She devoured the omelet with incredible ferocity, and my first thought was that of course a giant like her would do that—then I did a double take, because I was pretty sure Robin didn't usually have that kind of appetite. But the double take had taken several seconds, and Jen was nearly done eating by then.

“Good stuff,” she said, putting down her fork. Predictably, the fork's handle was mangled. “Guess you can make your breakfast now, if you want.”

If you've left me anything to eat, you asshole, I thought. Out loud, I said, “So, Jen, how do you know Robin?”

“Oh, I know Robin. I've known her since college.” Jen's snort suggested a joke, but I wasn't catching it. “We met back then and I've been in touch ever since. She can't get enough of me!”

“Right. Sorry Robin's not here,” I said, taking a seat opposite her. “She's out of town with some of her other friends. I guess that messes up whatever you had planned while you were here?”

“Nah, not that much.” She shrugged, leaning back in her chair. “I mean, yeah, would have been nice to hook up again, but I figured I'd just pump iron, watch TV, yadda yadda yadda. Oh yeah, speaking of which.”

She got up from her chair and made her way to the couch, where she sprawled. It had been reinforced over the last week to take her weight, so that wasn't the problem. The problem was that her hair was still soaking wet, all over the couch. And she was still naked.

“Um,” I said. “Are you going to put anything on?”

“Why? Robin always said I could make myself at home.”

She fumbled for a remote, and I had a horrible prophetic vision of pulverized plastic before I grabbed the remote and turned the TV on for her. “How about I just get you some underwear,” I said.

“God, fine, if it'll stop you from whining. They're in my bag.”

The bag had been left in the living room. I opened it and saw a variety of clothes, most of them gym-related: I had to dig to the bottom of the bag to find underwear, which was a plain bra and panties. “Here,” I said, tossing them at her.

“Whatever,” she said, pulling them on with as little effort as possible. “Where's the pro wrestling on here? Or would you rather change the channel yourself, mister butler?”

She didn't wait for a response before tossing the remote at me. It kind of hurt as it hit my chest, too, but all I could do was find the right channel. It took a minute—I never watched this stuff. “I don't know why people like this,” I said. “It's all fake.”

“Movies are fake too, dipshit, and you watch those. It's not about whether you know it's fake, it's whether you can believe it's real.” She put both arms behind her head and lounged, watching the action. “You got snacks? I could use some snacks.”

“No. You just ate.”

“What am I gonna do, watch wrestling and not have chips? Go get some, you prick!”

I took a deep breath in, then out. It was time to put my foot down. “No. Get them yourself.”

She stared at me for a few seconds, and it was very hard to hold her gaze. “Hey, come over here a sec, Mark?” she said at last, breaking eye contact. “I think I got a problem with a bra strap back here or something.”

I rolled my eyes, but stood up and walked over to her.

Big mistake. As soon as I was close enough, she sat up like a jack in the box, and her hand shot out from behind her head to grab mine. Before I could react, she'd dragged me as easily as carrying a teddy bear, shoving my head down at her crotch.

“Let's make something clear, pussy,” she said, as I flailed under the weight of her hand. Her other hand pulled her panties down, and then she forced my face into her muff. “I do what I want. And with a bod like mine, other people do what I want too. Now have some breakfast.”

I flailed as long as I could, but it was like being held down by a statue: Jen wasn't moving. Without other options, I started licking unenthusiastically. “Lick harder!” she sneered, mashing my face forward again. “You're not getting up until I let you!”

I licked harder, tasting and smelling her sweat in the back of my nose. I'd performed cunnilingus for Robin before, and done it with vigor and creativity, really working my hardest to please her. This was nothing like that. I was licking hard, but I wasn't putting anything more work into it than that, and I didn't even want to. Mostly I was thinking whether I wanted to try pronouncing “pomegranate” like this.

Jen was right, it seemed. I knew Robin was in there, but I couldn't believe it.

Eventually, I finished, or rather Jen did. She panted harder and harder, her hips bucking into my face violently enough to bruise, until she let out a gasp—and squirted into my throat. I wasn't ready enough for it, and found myself gasping and coughing as she finally released me.

“That's how you start the day,” she said, stretching out like a tiger. “Workout, breakfast, and facefuck some loser. This is gonna be a fun New Year's.”

I spat out the parts of her squirt that I couldn't swallow. “How were you and Robin ever friends!?”

She stared at me for a few seconds. Then she burst out laughing. “Friends?” she spluttered. “Is that what she told you? To spare your feelings, little man? Let me give you a better picture of our relationship: Robin's the one who spent most of her time where you just were.”

I blinked. Several times. “She what?”

“And you know what else?” She sat up, and her grin was like a tiger too. “She loved it. She couldn't get enough of it! Biggest sub ever—or I guess littlest. She would beg for me to hold her down, wanted nothing more than a big, strong hand shoving her into my crotch.”

She snorted. “God, she really settled with you, huh? I should have come back sooner to save her from you, you little manlet. No way are you giving her what she's looking for.”

“Hey, that's not....” I looked at the floor, hands balling into fists. That had hurt way more than the grabbing. “Shut up.”

“Oh, wow, you're just rippling with dominant energy. Tell you what, when Robin comes back you can both fuck me, pussy. I mean, if I don't decide to have just her do it and make you watch.” She frowned. “On second thought, you look like the kind of beta who'd enjoy that.”

“I said shut up.” My hands were shaking.

And then she was laughing again. “Whoa, easy, dude! Just kidding. I'd need to wait to ask her when she gets back.” She winked, then returned her attention to the TV—it hadn't turned off, but I hadn't heard a word of it in two minutes. “You know what?” she said. “I'm thinking pizza for the snack. Get me a pizza—you can have some too, I guess, if I don't finish it.”

I took a shaky breath. “Why are you like this?”

She smiled. “I'm the biggest, baddest bitch around. Why wouldn't I be like this? I mean, who's gonna stop me?” Her eyes flicked my way. “You?”

It was too much. I turned around and stomped back to my bedroom, trying not to scream.

—

Five minutes later, I was dressed, and calm enough to think about this rationally.

Robin was roleplaying. This was just a bit of fun. If I used the safeword, she would stop and this charade would be over. So therefore, logically speaking, none of the things she was saying mattered—and in fact those things weren't any truer than, say, pro wrestling. Robin hadn't known Jen in college, she hadn't gotten facefucked daily by Jen in college, and she didn't actually prefer Jen to me....

And that was where rationality broke down. If the last week was any indication, Robin did prefer Jen to me. Even if the strict facts of Jen's previous 'life' were lies, that part was true enough.

Did she know how much it hurt to hear her say that? Even through another mouth?

(The way she'd just pulled me down to her crotch, to be used—)

I slammed my fist on the bed, and it did nothing to help. I'd asked Why are you like this?, fully immersed in the fiction that was Jen, but the better question was—why was Robin doing this? What was she trying to do?

The obvious first answer was that this was an abject, in-your-face lesson—and that part was painfully literal, my cheeks still ached—about how to perform as Jen. And I had to admit, if that was the goal, mission accomplished. By virtue of being such an unimaginable asshole, Jen could fully convince me she was 100% real.

But... there was another true thing Jen had said. Robin was very submissive. Even when she tried to push me into new sexual territory, I was always meant to be in the dominant role—hypnotizing her, tying her up, and so on. She'd never actually tried to dominate me, not even as an example.

So did she want me to walk in, say the safe word, and ask for us to switch so I could show off? No, because judging by how much Robin didn't want me to break character while in Jen, it was clear that she would never want to do it herself. So what could I do?

Who's gonna stop me? You?

I sat up in bed.

She can be a bit domineering... but I'm sure you'll find a way to push back if she's too much.

There was something I could do.

Have fun!

—

The manual wasn't that hard to find—Robin had hidden it under the mattress on her side. And once I'd had some time to read it thoroughly without interruption, I was able to find some very interesting things indeed.

And as I read through, memorizing the manual, a plan formed in my mind.

I downloaded the most interesting thing onto my phone, then ran it. The Erotech logo flashed on screen, and followed by a few seconds of Searching for compatible device.... I waited with bated breath, until the confirmation appeared: Device paired. Welcome to your fantasy.

What appeared next was Jen. Jen, staring neutrally ahead like a mannequin, her body posed like she was lying on an invisible couch, with a long list of controls to her right. I scrolled through them, getting familiar with the system in ways that just reading a manual didn't allow. The UI was amazingly intuitive and easy to work with, which meant that before long, it was time for the plan to start.

Phase one of the plan: a couple tests to make sure the controls were working.

I stood as if to leave the bedroom, but thought better of it: it would be a lot harder to stay in character if I were in the room, visibly controlling Jen. And as much as this plan was about giving Robin a good time... it was mostly about getting revenge on that domineering bitch Jen, and I wouldn't give her a chance to break character and slip through my fingers.

Fortunately, there was a backup plan. I zoomed the screen in on mannequin Jen's eyes, tapped them, and selected an option in the context menu—and a video feed popped up in the top right. It gave me a first person video of Jen's massive, tanned body lying on my couch, her breasts in gloriously full view. I would be very happy to watch from here.

Test one. I put one finger on each of mannequin Jen's hands, held them down until they were both selected, and then dragged them up above her head, bringing her arms with them.

Real Jen's arms moved in her peripheral vision, and I heard a crash. Jen made a noise of mild surprise and looked back to where her arms were, and I winced to see that I'd made her knock a lamp off the end table by the sofa. Judging by the sound—

“Hey, loser!” Jen's voice came through my door and the app at slightly different times, resulting in a slight echo. “I just stretched and broke some of your shit. Clean it up when you're done ordering that pizza!”

—yup, it had shattered. But the test had worked. I released her arms, and after a moment she put them back by her side, shrugging. Whether or not Robin suspected anything, it was clear Jen had no clue.

(Robin was away with friends. Jen was here, about to get what was coming to her.)

Time for test two. I let my thumb slide down mannequin Jen's body, down right between her legs, and pressed the button. When the context menu appeared, I selected the vibration control and slid it up to medium.

Jen, audible only through the first person video, purred with pleasure. “God, I'm so good,” she murmured, flexing her body with pleasure, displaying her panties clearly for me to see. “I'm so fucking hot....” Another successful test.

It was time to move onto the next phase of the plan. I zoomed in on the fingers of her left hand, curled them inward, and then took over the entire hand. In one smooth motion, I pulled it from her side down to her crotch, watching on screen as it slid underneath her panties, and started her masturbating.

“Mm, yeah,” Jen said, grinding her clit against her fingers. “Fuck yes....” I gave her a little more help, taking control of her right hand and directing it to grab under her bra. “I'm so fucking hot,” she repeated, rubbing and grabbing even more enthusiastically than I was directing her to.

And she was right. Her body was so fucking hot. It had been hot enough when I was controlling her from inside, but controlling her from the outside? My member was straining to achieve full mast under my jeans, and it took all my self control not to grab it and join Jen in activity. The plan didn't have room for that kind of fun—yet.

As I kept manipulating my little puppet, and as Jen's breaths got faster and louder, an arousal meter was building on the right side of the screen. It had been holding steady at half when I opened the program—Jen was always horny—but now it was going up fast. “Oh, fuck yeah,”

Jen panted, “I'm gonna cum—”

Alert, said a new popup on my screen, Orgasm imminent. And I had options.

With an evil grin on my face as I closed the video, I walked out of my bedroom and held down the button in the middle.

Delay.

“What the fuck!?” I yelled, seeing—for the first time, obviously—Jen on my fucking couch, masturbating over the spot where Robin liked to sit. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” One hand was behind my back, holding the delay button on the phone.

Jen looked at me, almost embarrassed—but not quite. “Oh, fuck you,” she said, her arms stopping their movement as she saw me (or maybe it was because I wasn't making them move). “I was so close and then you come here with your limp dick energy, and—”

“You can't just fucking squirt all over my couch, you asshole!” I walked over, clearly beside myself, trying not to grin. “Were you raised by fucking pigs?”

“You wouldn't know, but when you're as great as I am,” Jen grunted, hands still holding herself tight, “sometimes you just can't stop yourself from—”

“You're not great,” I said, my voice cutting across hers as I stood over her. “You're just a bratty little bitch.”

And with my free hand, I slapped her hard across the face.

Her response was immediate. She sat up and snarled, “Oh you are fucking dead, you piece of—”

But my reaction was just behind. I swiped my hidden thumb from Delay to Trigger.

“Shi—shiiiiii—” The word cut off as her hips bucked involuntarily, and she let out a high pitched cry. Her eyes rolled up in her head, her tongue lolled out, and fluid squirted past her clenched fingers to stain my couch.

It took ten seconds for the orgasm to finish having its way with her. I busied myself by releasing Jen's arms, setting the vibration to the lowest setting above zero, and turning something else way up.

Finally she was still and silent—no more cries of pleasure. She stared at me, and I stared at her, and while my surprise wasn't genuine I sure as hell hoped hers was. I spoke first: “Did you just....”

“You didn't see anything,” she said.

“Did you just get off on me slapping you? And calling you a little bitch?”

“I fucking didn't!” She hastily pulled her underwear back into place. “Why would I get off on a little manlet like you calling me that—”

“Calling you what?” I said coolly, but a smile was taking over my face.

“You know what you said! Calling me a—” I briefly revved the vibration just in time for her to stumble over, “Li-little bitch....”

“You're enjoying this, aren't you?” I said, pointing with my free hand. “Look at you, you're blushing!”

She stood up fast and stepped toward me, smashing the coffee table underfoot. “I'm not fucking blushing!”

“Wanna go look?”

She growled and stumbled to the bathroom, yanked the bathroom door off the hinges—and froze. On her face was a deep red blush.

I strode in behind her, relishing the blush I'd put there, and the wide eyes that were all Jen. “You love this! There you are acting like some kind of jock dominatrix, and you're secretly the world's biggest sub!”

I slapped her ass for emphasis, and she yelped (with a little help from the vibrator spinning up again). “Shut up,” she grumbled.

I laughed out loud. “Oh man, did Robin know about this? Did she make you eat her out in college? Hold on, I'm gonna text her—”

As I raised my phone in front of myself, she turned to me with horror on her face, though it had to fight with the blush for real estate. “Don't tell her!”

I couldn't help but notice that was a plea, not a threat. I ignored her regardless, and pulled up my text messages. “Hey Robin,” I narrated as I typed, “don't worry about Jen. It turns out she's really into—”

“Please don't send that!” She grabbed my arm, but not to crush it, and looked at me with supplication in her eyes. So now we're saying please, eh?

“Why not?” My voice was cold. “Breaking my things, eating my food, insulting me every time you open your mouth—you've been a brat to me all morning. If I don't send this message—” I held it out for her to see “—how are you going to make it worth my while, you little bitch?”

She quivered at that with no prompting. So she'd finally caught on. I took the opportunity to switch my phone back to Erotech's app, select her knees, and choose the top option on the menu.

Jen kneeled before me, eyes widening for a second at her own submission. Then she twisted her expression into one of pride, despite her humiliating secret.

“That's a good start,” I said, and stepped forward. Even kneeling, she was still nearly at my eye level, not that she was meeting my eyes. “Don't worry, you won't have to do much. You just have to fix all the things you broke in here. And then, maybe I'll agree not to tell Robin our little secret. Or then again....” I patted a hand gently against her cheek, and she narrowed her eyes at me. “Maybe I won't.”

—

Jen was a terrible maid. I pretended to be angry about this.

“You have to pick it all up!” I said, sitting across from the couch as she grabbed the largest remains of the smashed lamp and threw them in a trashbag. I was idly tapping on my phone, not that she could see what I was doing.

“Who gives a shit?” she snarled, straightening up and leaving the floor covered in little ceramic shards.

“I give a shit.” I waggled my phone. “Robin's only a text away, remember?”

She grumbled. “Where's your fucking dustpan?”

“Under the sink.”

She stomped over and grabbed it, then stomped back and swept up the shards with so much vehemence you'd think they'd insulted her. “There,” she said, dumping it in the bag. “You happy, asshole?”

I stood up. “No, I'm not happy. You're the one who broke this, and I'm pretty sick of all the attitude I'm getting just because I told you to clean up your own mess.” I walked over to her. “Take off your clothes.”

She squinted. “What?”

“You heard me. Off.”

“Uh, okay?” She hooked her thumbs into her panties and stepped out of them, then unhooked her bra, leaving her nude once more. “Is this supposed to be some sort of punishment?” she asked, her tone more confused than derisive. “I wasn't even wearing this shit until you got all whiny about it, I don't care—”

I grabbed her nipple and twisted, hard. She cut herself off with a little cry.

“Who cares what you think?” I slid my thumb across the vibrator control, pushing it up the more I twisted, and she let out a little moan. “This is just so I have easier access.” She winced, and her knees turned slightly inward.

I released her. “Don't get off on this too hard,” I said with a cold smile. “I mean, haven't you dripped around here enough? Get a towel and clean off my floor.”

She walked to the bathroom, and I turned up her blush just in time for her to be able to see it in the mirror. She froze there for a second, then ripped a towel from its bar like she was trying to hurt it. “You should probably dry your hair first,” I called, “so it doesn't keep making a mess.”

Jen stopped at the bathroom threshold, then groaned and spent a minute blotting her long hair dry. There, that wasn't so hard, was it? Then she walked out of the bathroom, tossed the towel on the floor, and started pushing it around with her foot.

She sure was putting a lot of effort into putting in the minimum amount of effort. I had to roll my eyes. “Do it ri-ight,” I said in a mild singsong.

She let out a growl, then bent down and took the towel in her hands. I appreciated how, instead of just bending her knees and crouching, she had bent double and left her legs straight—and her ass nice and exposed under a tantalizing veil of hair.

I waited until she was wiping off the couch before I walked over by the ruined coffee table, raised my hand, and spanked her.

“Agh!” Her back convulsed. “What the fuck—”

“Keep working,” I said, tapping away at my phone. “And I don't want you moving those feet either.”

“I'll move this foot into your ass—”

“No,” I said, selecting the Freeze option on both her legs. “You won't.”

She twitched, but her legs remained fixed in an A-framed position that left nothing to the imagination, and she couldn't bring herself to move them.

“And do you know why you won't?” I brought my hand back again, holding it out so she could see, and brought it down on her ass again. She let out something that was less like a yelp, more like a moan. “Because you love this.”

“Fuck you—”

“Never said you could stop cleaning.” I spanked her again, and she convulsed.

She continued rubbing the couch, but her wet hair had gotten all over it and it would take a while to dry off. I brushed some of her hair aside to get a better view of the goods. “It must have been so rough for you, Jen, huh?”

“What?” she said, before crying out at another spank. Her voice broke on that one.

“Don't talk, just listen. Everyone must have seen a huge girl like you and thought, she's a terror. She's so big and strong and mean, she must love to boss people around.” I wasn't mocking her as I spoke, though: my hand cupped her bruised rear, and my voice was gentle. “How could you ever have shown this side of yourself to them?”

I could see her jaw working, but her mouth didn't move, and she kept drying.

“It must have been so hard.” I rubbed her with both hands, caressing her along her lower body. “Never able to get what you needed. You couldn't even tell Robin about it—you had to play big mean dom Jen with her. But it's okay now,” I said, now so far forward that I was leaning on her pelvis. “You don't have to hide anything from me.”

“You,” she said, but she couldn't bring herself to say more.

“Yeah, me. So what does a nice girl like you say when someone does something for her?” I leaned back, and slid the vibration up on my phone.

She blushed, but didn't speak right away—she seemed to be biting her tongue. “Come on,” I prompted.

“Th....” She looked at the wall instead of at me. “Thnnku,” she mumbled.

“What was that?” I raised my hand and spanked her again, hard enough that my palm stung.

“Fuck! Thank you!” she hissed. “Happy?”

“Not as happy as you're about to be. Keep working, but say it each time.”

“Each time what—” was all she managed to say before I slapped her ass again. “Agh! Thank you!”

Slap.

“Thank you!”

Slap.

“Oh, god, thank you!”

With every spank, Jen's proclamation of gratitude lost a bit of its angry edge. More and more of that pretense kept falling away, aided by the vibrations I was controlling inside her. I even prompted a little slickness to dribble down her leg, and she definitely felt that. By the time I reached twenty, she was panting with pleasure.

But to her credit, she never stopped wiping down the couch. “There!” she finally panted after the twentieth spank, tossing the towel aside. “It's all done, you....” She trailed off—apparently no anatomical insult sprung to mind.

“Oh, now you're not sure what to call me?” I released the locks on her legs. “You can't go wrong with sir.”

She digested that for a few seconds. Then, looking down at the couch.... “It's all done... sir.”

I ramped up the vibration almost to the top on that last word. A tremor went all through her body, and I had to tap my phone quickly to delay another orgasm. “No, don't go squirting again,” I said, waggling my finger as I returned my phone to my pocket. “You just did all that work to clean up.”

“You jackass, are you going to stand there or....” She gulped, remembering her place, and let her rear squirm invitingly. “Are you going to help me finish? Sir? I'm so close?”

“Hmm....” I tapped my chin in a pantomime of thought, as if I hadn't already decided. “Well, unfortunately, you're not quite done.”

She let out a little whine, and I saw a little despair in her eyes as the orgasm slipped just out of reach.

“You see,” I continued, gesturing down below me, “you seem to have destroyed my table.” It was one of the reinforced ones we'd bought over the last week, but it hadn't been built to support the shock load of Jen's megaton stomp. “And I don't see any other replacement here.”

“Any other?” she said, her confusion clear.

I smiled.

—

About ten minutes later, I was sitting on the couch with my feet propped up on the replacement table, when the buzzer rang. “Finally,” I said, and set the drink I'd been enjoying down on the table. “Don't go anywhere!” There was a little moan.

I stood up and buzzed my guest into the building. About a minute later, I saw him at the door through a fish-eye lens. “Personal pizza for Mark Brown?” he said, a bag slung over his shoulder.

I opened the door just enough to let myself through. “You have no idea how much I've been waiting for this,” I said, smiling. “Breakfast today wasn't very filling.”

I paid and tipped the man, thanked him again, and slipped back in with the pizza. “They always arrive fast because I tip well,” I said, setting the pizza down on the table and opening the box. “It's called being nice! You should try it some time.”

I pulled a slice of pizza from the pie, salivating at the way the cheese stretched before snapping. “Want some?” I asked, dangling it in front of my table.

Obviously, the table in question was Jen. She was on her hands and knees, with a towel under those knees both for her benefit and to catch any errant drips, and she stared motionless at the door—except that the ability to stare had been taken away. I'd dressed her in a blindfold and big red ballgag, items which Robin had bought months ago in one of her many attempts to have me dominate her. How ironic that now, when I was finally getting the hang of this whole dom thing, Robin wasn't here to enjoy it.

Jen moaned into her ballgag. “No?” I said. “Oh well, more for me.” I sat back down on the couch and put my feet up by her shoulders, whereas my food and drink were down by her broad hips. She really was made to serve.

“You're very welcome, by the way,” I said after chewing my food for a few seconds. “I could have opened the door just a little wider, and that man would have been able to see you in all your glory, with your perfect tits and juicy ass hanging out. He'd be able to tell all his friends what a submissive little slut you are, and you wouldn't want that, would you?”

She let out a little double moan—maybe nuh-uh. Hard to say.

“But then again,” I said, setting my slice down, “I could be lying. Maybe I did open the door all the way and just told him not to say anything.” Her breathing was speeding up, and her legs were subtly rubbing against one another. “Maybe he's in the room right now, listening to every moan. Maybe he's taking video. Can you hear him breathing?”

Her head jerked up, and she turned it from side to side as if trying to see.

I laughed, walked over to her, and pulled the blindfold up to her forehead. There was no one else in the room. She glared at me.

“Aw, don't be mad. I was just kidding.” I patted her cheek lightly, and after a few seconds of hesitation she closed her eyes and pressed her face against my hand like a cat. Then I reset her blindfold. “Now don't move. I don't want you spilling my meal.”

Jen made a little noise of assent. She'd done quite a good job at staying rock-steady, despite how I'd vibed her, and I hadn't even locked her in place. Not past the first five minutes, anyway. She was becoming docile enough that I hardly needed the Erotech app at all, for her to do as she was told.

But what about using the app to make her do as she wasn't told?

As I finished my first slice and started on my second, I pulled out my phone again with the other hand. The Jen on my screen was also on her hands and knees, though she was neither blinded nor gagged—of course the app wouldn't know about that. I swiped my thumb, rotating my view of her so that I saw her left side, and selected her left arm.

Slowly, as if she hoped I wouldn't see, Jen lifted her left hand from the ground. She let out a little whimper as it moved steadily under her body, and landed at her crotch. Her legs squeezed together, as if trying to bar the gate against the intruder, but too late.

I tried not to notice, still eating my meal, as Jen let out little noises. Tiny noises—exhalations through her nose, little whines muffled by the gag. Her hand kept working at her pussy, rubbing harder at her clit, diving in and out between her folds.

She tried, bless her. She tried so hard to keep her back steady. But her hand was insatiable, and she let out a muffled yelp, and her back shivered. My drink rocked in its glass, and a bit dripped down on her rear.

Only then did I officially notice. “Excuse me?” I said, taking my feet off her and standing up. “I thought I told you not to move, you needy little slut. You wanna explain yourself?”

She moaned in apology, but my thumb kept going so that she couldn't stop masturbating. Her arousal was building. “I don't think I caught that,” I said, kneeling down. I grabbed her ballgag and pulled it out of her mouth, so that it hung around her neck as a collar. “I said, care to explain yourself?”

She panted open mouthed for a few seconds, as drool fell to the floor from her lolling tongue. “Sorry, sir,” she finally managed, looking up at me with blinded eyes. “I can't stop myself—I'm so fucking horny—”

The app had a nice little feature: I could make Jen continue the same motion, over and over again, without my active involvement. I turned that feature on and pocketed my phone before continuing: I wanted both hands for what came next. “And do you really think that's fair, slut?”

“What—what do you mean, sir?”

“You've gotten off twice today, and here you are going for a third time.” I undid my bluejeans' button, then zipped the zipper down. “But your sir hasn't gotten the same pleasure. Why should you cum before I get a chance?”

Recognition dawned on her face, and she opened her mouth wide. “That's right,” I said, pulling down my boxers. My member needed no further encouragement, and sprang free immediately. “Let any of my food fall, and you won't cum for a week.”

“Okay,” she said. She stretched her neck forward like she could smell what was in front of her. “What are you waiting for, sir?” A little edge re-entered her voice. “Do you want me to fuckin' beg or something?”

“Well, now that you ask....” I patted her head. “Yes.”

"Ugh...." She growled, but it was a sound of resignation. “Please, sir. Please fuck my throat.”

“There you go. See what we get by asking nicely?” I took two fistfuls of her hair and thrust forward.

Jen received me fully and eagerly. She bobbed her head back and forth, letting her tongue quest along my entire length and to my balls as well, and—oh my god, Robin had never done that. She'd never been able to get the whole thing in.

(In the back of my mind, I wondered why I was thinking of Robin at a time like this.)

It was all I could do not to let my knees buckle, as Jen serviced the both of us at once. I had to be as strong as she was—look, she wasn't even letting the cup fall! She was doing so well, my little sub. “Good girl,” I said, pulling her closer, “good little slut.” She sucked harder at the encouragement, and I saw stars.

I couldn't tell if it was an instant or an eternity before I came—I couldn't judge time with what she was doing to me—but I was bucking my hips into her face before I knew it, releasing a load that had been building all day. I held her hair for support, panting with exertion, as she swallowed the whole thing. “Good girl,” I managed.

I pulled out. “Thank you, sir,” she panted, her lips flecked with more than spittle. Collecting myself a bit, I saw that she was still working at herself, and that none of this had upset what was perched on her back. A very good slut indeed.

“Please, sir,” she said, still automatically rubbing herself at an intensity which, I realized, would never get her anywhere. “Can I cum now? Since you said you had to cum first, and I'm so fucking close—”

I put a finger on her lips to silence her. With my other hand, I pull out my phone and ended automatic control. Her hand hesitated, but then I let my palm cup her face. “You've been such a good little slut. Cum for me.”

“Thank you, sir—oh, oh, oh god!—”

She wasted no time: her masturbation got exponentially more vigorous as soon as she was able. My phone buzzed to warn of the oncoming orgasm, and I did nothing to stop it—in fact, I drove up the vibration to maximum. When Jen climaxed, it was with the loudest cry she'd let out all day.

The orgasm sent waves of tremors through her body, shaking her again and again. I instinctively stuck out my hand to save my glass of water, but there was no need—they rocked on her body, but did not fall. And when the climax was done with her, the only fluids to spill out had landed on the towel her knees rested on.

“Very good girl,” I said. I took my glass and held it to her lips. “Have some water.” She drank quickly and gratefully—she'd lost a fair amount of fluids between one thing and another.

“Thank you,” she said between gulps, and I didn't begrudge her forgetting the sir.

We stayed there for a bit longer, with me looking at her and her doing her best to look back. Now for the final phase. “Well,” I said, and yanked the blindfold off her head, “you did it!”

She blinked at the sudden light. “Wh-what? Sir?”

I walked to her and picked up the pizza box. “We're done. You did everything I wanted to. Congratulations! Robin doesn't need to know a thing about what happened today, and you—” I set the glass and box down on the counter “—can go back to being big mean Jen. Wanna watch some pro wrestling? Maybe eat my pizza?”

She stood, with confusion written all over her face. “Uh? Sir?”

I rolled my eyes, acting as casual as I could and redoing my pants. “No, we're done with that stuff now. No more little slut, no more sir, you can just go back to being the giant asshole that you wanna be!”

Jen looked from side to side.

I walked around and picked up her discarded bra and panties. “Lemme just get you some clothes—oh right,” I said with a smile, letting them go again. “You don't give a shit about being naked. Well,” I continued, walking over to her, “at least I can get that ballgag off you—”

I reached up to her neck, but—as if on instinct—she raised a hand to cover the ballgag-turned-collar. Her cheeks flared red.

I stared up at her, fighting back a smile. “Does that mean you really are enjoying this, Jen?”

She bit her tongue, but didn't look away.

I pulled up my phone's messenger app. Holding it so she could see, I deleted the message I'd typed earlier in the day. “If you wanna keep going,” I said, pocketing my phone, “that means you can't even pretend you're following my orders because of blackmail. You're doing this because you, Jen, are my submissive little slut. Is that true?”

She took a deep breath, and then another, before speaking. “Yes,” she said, and her arms lowered so she was standing at attention. “I, Jen... am your submissive little slut, sir.”

A broad smile broke out on my face. I stepped forward and stood on tiptoe, and she leaned down to let me kiss her. I put my arms around her neck to hold myself steady, and felt the gag-collar on her skin. The smell on her face was the same sweat she'd reeked of before, but somehow it seemed now to be a heady aroma. It was wonderful.

When I broke from the kiss, it took me a few seconds to think of what to do next—I hadn't planned on getting this far—but I had an idea before long. “Do you have warm clothes, Jen?” I said.

“Yes, sir.”

“Put them on. We're going for a little walk.”