Promises

It's been a few years. Lives and friendships and other relationships have changed. But we start the same way as always: backed into a corner of the playspace, my hand at your throat, my knee between your legs.

Your crotch is slick against my thigh already.

"It's good to see you too," I grin.

You laugh -- the slow bashful laugh that means submission. Usually it takes me a very pleasant half an hour to drag you down out of your thoughts and anxieties and into that quiet bashful hazy state of need where I can enjoy you. Usually takes me longer to get you this wet, too.

"Did you have another scene before this?"

You shake your head.

"Were you looking forward to our scene this much? What a good slut yo..."

You shake your head again -- actually interrupt my praise to shake your head, a blush rising on your cheeks -- and I laugh and blurt out "God, I love you."

You're almost too far under to laugh back.

"Oh you poor sweet puppy," I say, letting a nasty-sweet edge into my voice. "I love it when you get too horny and stupid to lie."

I cup your cheek with my other hand -- the cup that means I love you and also Watch yourself, fucktoy, a slap is coming.

"If you weren't looking forward to me, then what's got you making such a mess in your panties?"

"I... My owner..." You're struggling to talk, the way you do when you're deep into your submission, biting your lip and squirming with the effort.

"Oh, that's right," I say, letting some sugar-sweet sarcasm curl into my voice. "You have a new owner! I almost forgot!"

I did no such thing. I could not possibly have forgotten. We're all on the same Discord, you've been talking about her nonstop for months, and you haven't left her side all weekend. But as deep as you are in subspace, I bet that won't occur to you.

"I guess it turns you on when your new owner gives you orders, huh?"

You nod, proudly, so hard your tits jiggle.

"And what did this new owner of yours order you to do?"

"I..." I can see it's hard work, putting the thought together. "She told..." You're grinding your crotch against my leg now, a little urgently, and arching your back in a way that makes your nipples distractingly beautiful. You haven't earned me playing with them yet, but oh god you will.

I give you the slap I threatened before.

You take a deep breath, stamp your foot, then push the words out fast. "shetoldmetocomereallygoodforyou."

I take a minute to process what you said, and then I drop my hands and take a step back, shaking my head and grinning. You whimper as my leg leaves your crotch.

"Oh you sweet pathetic cunt," I laugh.

I look you up and down -- god, your cunt is so wet the hairs of your bush cling together -- and I let my voice rise. "Jesus, baby, I know you're not smart like people are, but you need to be more careful!"

I'm grinning like a kid on Christmas. Other guests are starting to watch. Your eyes are starting to widen. Your hips are still moving, just a fraction, as if my leg was still there.

"Fuck," I half-shout, "do I need to spell it out for you?"

I can see the bafflement in your eyes, but I make you use words, fixing my gaze on you as you squirm and pout and finally pull yourself back out of subspace enough to make sense.

"whatdididowrongmiss?"

"You" -- I come back close, poke you in the chest with my finger -- "promised something you do not control."

I watch the gears turn for a little longer, then break the pause with a slap.

"How do you know I'll give you permission to cum?"

Your eyes widen.

"How can you promise her you'll cum for me when it's not your fucking decision? I hope your owner has an extremely good punishment lined up for when you come back empty-handed."

For all you know, we arranged this. For all you know, we didn't. Maybe I'll tell you someday.

You're beginning to cry.

"I guess you'd better be prepared to earn that orgasm."

You nod, a little frantically.

"...You'd do anything to make your owner happy, right?"

Now the nodding is slower, more tentative.

"...So I guess you'll do anything to stay out of trouble."

That's false. You gave me a list of limits, double-checked with your owner. I run through them now in my head, as your nodding continues to slow.

I joked once that since you couldn't talk right in subspace, I had to gauge what a good girl you were by the speed you were nodding at. Judging by that slowdown, we've found the limit of your goodness. That's where I like you.

"I know, puppy, anything is a long word. It's a big people concept for a dumb little puppy head. Let's make it specific." I pull out the pen and notepad I keep in my back pocket. "When I get back, I want a list of things you'll do in exchange for permission to cum."

For now, you look relieved. It's a trick we learned a long time ago: you can still write when you can't talk. I steer you to the couch, and immediately the pen is moving.

When I get up, I can see a few people at the party making a show of watching us -- you, to make sure you're safe, and me, to make sure I know what the fuck I'm doing. And I like to think a few more are just enjoying how you look. You're fucking beautiful, almost naked, all curled up, just the sweetest look of frightened concentration on your face, mouth quivering on the edge of tears. I don't go far -- just out of your field of vision, to the teapot across the room. But I do linger to watch you I get there. I can't help it.

Soon the sniffles tip over into sobs, and it's time to head back, tea and blanket in tow. "There you go, sweetheart," I say, scooping you up and tucking the blanket around you.

You curl your whole self around the mug of tea, and I curl around you, and for my own selfish enjoyment I let you cry for a minute while I hold you, because holding you when you cry makes me so fucking wet. When we're all done, I'll tell you: how proud you made me, how wet, how beautiful you were.

"That's a very long list you wrote," I say when you're starting to calm.

You nod. It's the sad nod of a kid who's not sure if she's done with a tantrum.

"Aww. What's got you so upset, toybox? Your face is even more of a mess than your cunt." I wipe your tears, then some snot, and you laugh, breath still ragged.

I make a show of studying the list.

"You did so good, puppy. I didn't know you knew all these words. You must be a bigger slut than I realized."

You wiggle a little, happily.

"Were you scared I was going to make you do everything on the list?"

You nod thankfully, and I feel you relax against me, just a big soft wave of relief.

"Oh my poor little fuckbucket. Did you really think I would do all those things to you?"

You let out a deep, ragged breath and shake your head. It's the sweetest fucking thing.

"No, of course I wouldn't, you perfect little dumb cunt. You're not that fucking important."

I get up and put out my hand -- and you've already taken it and stood up with determination before the last sentence sinks in.

You look at me, a little puzzled.

"Come on, beautiful. I don't have all day. We need to prioritize. We're going to find this owner of yours and she's going to tell me which of these things you'll enjoy the least."