“We are the only two people in the world,” Jean whispered, their hand closing over Becca’s eyes.
“But-” Becca started, but Jean moved their hand to Becca’s mouth.
“No excuses, no worries, just you and me. We’re the only two people in the world.”
Becca smiled under Jean’s hand.
They were in Jean’s small apartment, as they usually were. It was neat, meticulous, with a wall of bookshelves and a neatly made bed and not much else.
Becca loved the smell of it. Lingering incense, warm coffee, and Jean’s old-fashioned musky cologne.
Becca wore a summer dress with nothing under it, as instructed. It was a soft pale blue with tiny flowers. Her hair was a mop of short brown curls, parted. She sat on the floor next to the bed, her legs out in front of her. Jean crouched over her, their hand still on her throat.
Jean wore brown tweed slacks and a somewhat baggy white dress shirt they got from a thrift store. Over that, they wore a forest green sweater vest. Their pants were rolled up to expose ochre socks and ancient but well-shined brown oxfords.
Becca’s eyes were wide. Jean’s hand moved again, their thumb on Becca’s chin. Jean examined her.
“Do you think about me when you are alone?” They asked with a grin.
Becca bit her bottom lip and nodded.
“Do you think about all the things I have done to you?”
Becca nodded furiously, which made Jean smile.
“What do you dream of me doing to you? What stands out in your memory?”
Becca swallowed and closed her eyes for a moment.
“The-the way you use me. The way you make me feel used and special at the same time. The way you spank me and hurt me and pull my hair and-” she stopped, unable to meet Jean’s eyes.
“Especially when you, um, make fun of me,” she whispered.
“How do I make fun of you?”
Becca pleaded with her eyes.
“You-you make fun of how wet I get. When you tied me up, you said I made a puddle on the floor. I think about that a lot,” she said in a rush.
“Oh, yes, I do remember that. That’s lovely to know. Sometimes I’m unsure if I should tease you so much. Humiliation is complicated. But now that I know you like it so much, I can be more forthcoming about how deliciously disgusting you are.”
Jean relished Becca’s squirming and blushing.
“Normal girl wouldn’t have these kinds of reactions, you know. A normal girl wouldn’t beg to get tied up and hit the way you do. A normal girl wouldn’t get so wet from being humiliated.”
Becca bit her lip and nodded slowly.
“God, I bet you’re soaked already, aren’t you?” Jean laughed.
Becca looked away, cheeks crimson.
“Did you make a big wet spot in the back of your dress? I should make you go home like that. Let everyone know what a slut you are,” they said with glee.
Becca looked at Jean with big wet eyes, and it pushed Jean over the edge. They stood up and grabbed Becca by the hair.
“At least you are good for a few things,” they said, unzipping their pants and pulling out their cock.
Becca looked forward hungrily, ready to be useful.
There were moments of awkwardness, sometimes, that evaporated after a moment. Jean was having trouble getting their cock out of the fly of their boxers. They pull their slacks down instead.
Then Becca’s greedy mouth was on it, Jean’s hand in her hair, pulling her forward.
She loved the smell of Jean’s skin, the warmth of her body. She could suck forever, but Jean always cut her short, wanting to use her in other ways.
“Up on the bed, with your legs spread, like a good slut,” Jean said.
Becca did as she was told, always.
Then, like opening a present, Jean lifted Becca’s dress. No matter how many times they saw their girl’s pussy, it always made Jean sigh with delight.
“Just as I thought, a mess. A wet messy girl desperate to get fucked,” Jean chuckled, shaking their head.
Becca tried to hide her face in shame.
“I think I’ll just put my cock between your legs and let you rut on it like a little animal in heat,” they said, doing just that.
Becca whined and whimpered. Jean’s cock pressed against Becca’s clit, but only for a moment. Jean spat on their hand and stroked themselves.
Bacca pushed herself up, huffing and puffing in frustration, trying to get contact, trying to get more. Jean watched her and held themselves firm, anchoring themselves on the bed.
Becca never took long. Jean was sometimes envious of how quickly the girl could come.
Jean held the girl as she shuddered and moaned and came against them.
Then they were still, and Becca embraced them.
“My good girl,” Jean said into her hair, kissing her forehead.
Their eyes met for a moment, and Becca whispered, “is there anything else I can do for you?”
Jean patted her head.
“For now, I want to rest, then we can have some tea. We have the whole evening, and I’m sure I’ll find more uses for such a disgusting girl.”
Becca giggled and buried herself in the crook of Jean’s arm.