Awe-inspiring and terrifying, the black, leather paddle in my hand was a masterpiece of erotic art. Several layers of stiff leather were double-stitched together, creating a stratified veneer of punishment. Flowery, Gothic lettering spelled out “SLAVE” in backward lettering on one side, the indented text sure to leave the swollen, red prose on my victim’s flesh. The obverse side was quilted, a lush, deep red velvet to provide a softer, more pleasurable flagellation.

When I first cast my gaze upon the handle, my pussy responded with pulsating wetness; touching the brutal artistry caused a furnace of arousal to ignite deep within my loins. Blood-red velvet, matching the softer side of the bondage weapon, was crisscrossed with delicate bands of midnight-hued hide, providing a firm, comfortable grip. In my hand, it felt more like an extension of my domineering wrath, an implement of control and possessive ownership. The firm handle was capped in a bulbous, gleaming metal finial, wide near the bottom and tapering up into a narrow, rounded tip. Red, anodized stripes ringed the wider swell, its purpose as an anal plug obvious.

Josh, my handsome, timid, and very submissive roommate knelt on all fours on the floor. His excited breath came in gasps and heaves exhibiting his horny urgency.

“Are you ready to receive your punishment for soiling my boots?” I let disdain, contempt, and dominance drip from every syllable.

“Y-yes, Mistress Lilith,” he stammered out, panting. He pressed his cheek to the floor, presenting his muscular, sexy ass for abuse.

“Not yet, you worthless worm. First, you will crawl to me and lick your filthy cum from my boots. Do it, NOW!”

Quivering-Joshua, his body trembling with excitement, slowly closed the distance between us. His decently-sized cock throbbed with arousal; his sinewy muscles hunched and bunched sexily, and he slowly crawled, head down, eager to lap his jizz from my boots.

“Thank you, Lil,” he whispered in soft, whimpering moans.

“What did you call me, you pathetic piece of fuck-trash?” I slammed the paddle against my open palm, the thwacking report echoing through our shared living room. I felt the sting of leather on my flesh, grimacing slightly. Now I knew exactly how hard to strike my voluntary slave.

I smiled as his thick shock of immaculately coiffed hair leaned forward and down. His tongue darted out, aimed at the still-warm, white goo he’d very disobediently sprayed on my footwear. My head turned to the full-length, wide mirror, taking the scene in from the profile perspective. My friend and roommate, Josh, was so aroused that his cock sprang back to hardness as soon as I verbally denigrated him for cumming without permission.

Josh was sexy, so sexy that I’d initially struggled with whether to seduce him or not when he first moved into my home. The dominatrix gazing back at me from the mirror, however, was brutally, cruelly desirable. She didn't seduce; she was obediently served. We stuck our tongues out at each other, then adopted a more domme-like visage. The collared fuck toy, moaning in delight while he lapped up his cum from my patent leather-clad toes, was the perfect accessory. I had to admit the truth; I looked fucking hot: strong, commanding, and fuckable.

From bottom to top, I looked as if I were born for this very sexy role. Black, patent leather, knee-high, heeled boots wrapped my exercise-toned, shapely legs. The domineering footwear had been recently spit-shined, then buffed to a reflective gloss, compliments of Joshua’s fervent devotion. My bare thighs showed just enough muscle beneath my lightly-tanned, smooth skin, and the spiderweb tattoo on my left thigh—from my “Lilith” phase before I truncated my nickname to Lil—not only added slutty art to my flesh but it is also matched my boots and thong.

Other than the boots and thong, my only other article of clothing was a black, full-cup bodice. Boned to torso-shaping perfection, the shiny black material, offset with chrome metal accenting, increased my cup size to nearly a D-cup by lifting and squeezing them into a horny cleavage peepshow. Other than slut-red lipstick on my pouting lips and some smoky eyeshadow, I didn’t wear much makeup, as my natural skin tone and facial features always caught others’ eyes.

I’d purchased the bodice to add some sexual spice with my ex-boyfriend, and the boots were discovered in a second-hand store just before last Halloween when I dressed as a Lion Tamer and Josh as a lion. Maybe that was when it started; perhaps it was when he moved in. The catalyst, however, was my panties. My sexy, lace panties were definitely the spark that ignited the powder keg.

Being single in your late twenties is more an extension of one’s college years than real life. The food, housing, and lifestyle improve after graduation, but the mentality of studying hard and partying hard remains, just slightly altered. Work hard, play hard supplants that, basically the same mantra, just no finals; you receive a paycheck, instead of a grade. My assertiveness and no-nonsense attitude, coupled with being quite personable, landed me a secretary job at a medium-sized law firm. Within a year of graduation, I’d been promoted to the head secretary, and I ran a very tight ship.

Josh was an acquaintance, the ex-boyfriend of a friend’s friend. His heart-breaker, and cause for eviction, was Crystal. Unlike the Austrian kind, she was not a fine Crystal. In my opinion, she was a raving bitch of a slut that sought validation by throwing her red-haired pussy at anyone and everyone. Always yammering on and on, her mouth never quiet, she fucked and sucked her way through half of the city before she finally decided that Josh just wasn’t right for her and kicked him to the curb.

Although I had some major reservations about taking him in, due to being a man, my long-time roommate had migrated westward, taking a decent job offer. I couldn’t fault her for that; everywhere one looked, businesses were hiring, but nobody actually hired. Despite having a penis, Josh had all the qualifications I needed.

In a perfect storm of serendipity, not only did our needs satisfy the other’s, but our personalities and lifestyles complimented each other. My assertiveness matched his desire to please; his timid nature was buttressed by my authoritarian decisiveness. Even his state-of-the-art, large-screen, Smart TV complimented my addiction to streaming movies. We enjoyed many of the same foods, almost always cooking dinner together, had similar tastes for entertainment, kindred senses of humor, and we both adored spiced rum.

I needed somebody to help pay the bills; he was not only looking for a new domicile but was also gainfully employed. The way Crystal had walked all over him, treating him like a doormat, alerted me to the fact that he was a safe gentleman. Within the first week, the trepidation of him owning a penis had dissipated. After a month or so, we’d become fast friends, sharing intimate details like best friends.

At first, I fantasized about him, wondering if he’d be a good lover. However, I didn’t want to ruin the rare camaraderie, so I quenched the embers of passion as soon as they’d sparked. That didn’t mean that I didn’t tease him just a little bit, wearing skimpy shorts or tight yoga shorts around the house, losing my bra as soon as I got home from my nine-to-five indentured servitude, our lounging about in only a t-shirt and panties.

I ignored Josh’s lusty glances, always lighting up inside. It made me feel sexy and desired. I’ll confess, though, that some nights I could hear him masturbating from the other side of the wall between our bedrooms. Some nights, especially after a few movies and copious amounts of rum and coke, enough to impress a pirate captain, he was louder than he knew. Sometimes, I‘d smile, musing over whether I was the cause of his jacking. A few times, I fingered my dripping twat, matching him, trying to cum before he did.

In the fall, a few months after we’d grown very comfortable living together, we were both invited to a costume party around Halloween. Although it didn’t seem to be important, then, especially due to Josh’s shy nature, it was the first time he ever verbally mentioned that he found me sexy. My Lion Tamer costume consisted of the boots, tight, black spandex pants, and a frilly, red, waistcoat. I found a red top hat, my black hair descending in a braid behind it, and wore a toy whip on a broad, black belt. His silly lion costume, adult-sized footie pajamas, made us a matched pair.

“Is this too stupid to wear?” I’d asked him, twirling around to show him the full effect.

“You look so sexy, so strong,” he drooled. “I bet every guy there hits on you! I would if we weren’t roommates.”

More like you would if you weren’t so Beta, I thought to myself but didn’t voice.

During the party, when we were all displaying our costumes, we went out together, him on all fours, me fooling about with the whip, trying to make it crack. When I lightly smacked it on his butt, I could have sworn he moaned. After that, his leers, horny glances, and drooling stares became more frequent. But it was my panties and that movie night that cinched it.

About a week before he knelt before me, nude, his erection swaying with his excitement, and submitted to being controlled sexually by me, we had a lovely dinner that we prepared together, followed by us each picking a horror movie to stream.

Josh is too insecure and fearful of women to approach them, which is probably why the cunt, Crystal, latched onto him; she’s such a fucking whore that she’ll just grab a guy and fuck him. He hadn’t dated anyone. I’d canceled my pending date, as the sparks just weren’t flying.

So, with our night free, we two roomies cozied up on either side of the couch with a giant bowl of popcorn between us. The two of us were in a jovial mood, the road to giddiness shortened by some excellent marijuana and copious amounts of rum. Since Josh volunteered to do the dishes, his movie was first. It was a fairly decent slasher flick, true to the formula.

Some masked madman was going about hacking up young virgins in creative, diabolical ways. The movie wasn’t what I’d call particularly scary. Playing to the lowest common denominator, it was a parade of tropes interspersed with gratuitous nudity. Of course, the basest go-to for such a movie is the ever-popular jump scare.

We were buzzing from booze and smoke, laughing at the movie, and comfortable on the couch. I’d changed into just a worn, ripped t-shirt, my little lace thong covering my snatch. Josh was in some light, cotton lounge pants, his cock swaying as he walked. Our living room was littered with bits of hurled popcorn, ammunition aimed at one another for particularly silly quips. I had one leg drawn up, my knee resting against the arm of the couch. A jump scare caught me by surprise, making me bounce, and startling me.

The cheesy scare tactic made me jump a bit, causing the hem of my shirt to rise up, exposing my panties. I neither noticed nor was concerned, at first, as we’d seen each other in our underwear before. However, for some reason, that night, when Josh and I simultaneously reached for a handful of popcorn, I noticed that his eyes were riveted on my panty-covered crotch. His eyes grew wide, and he stammered out an alert, which I ignored.

“It’s no big deal, Josh. You’ve seen me in less. These are kind of thin, though, aren’t they? Can you see my cunt through them?”

He denied that he could, staring intently. Regular conversation, drinking, and toking resumed. However, and I cannot blame the intoxicants—it was all me, I got a sexy thrill over the tent in his pants and how flabbergasted he became from seeing my thin, lacy panties. I got off on it.

Our second movie, my choice, was a supernatural, psychological horror-thriller, with an immersive plot and lots of sexy fucking between the main characters. Additionally, it was terrifying. While I began teasing him in earnest when the movie began, my legs splayed wide, by the time the movie ended, I was cuddling against him, tightly clinging to his athletic body.

“Well, this was a fun night,” I told him when the movies had ended, and we’d cleaned up our popcorn mess. I’d made extra sure that I bent and stretched even more enticingly than usual during the process. “I’m going to strip out of these panties because I’ve worn them all day, and go to sleep. I bet they reek of my pussy.”

As he just stared, dumbfounded, I reached under my t-shirt and slowly peeled them off, careful to not flash him. “Good night, Josh,” I said mischievously, trying not to smile at his hard-on. Walking down the hall toward the bathroom, where our clothes hamper was stowed, I gave my hips just a little extra sway, my moistened panties hanging from my hooked finger.

I was fucking horny and planned on fingering myself, quietly, to at least two orgasms before I slept.

“Ah, umm, goodnight,” Josh replied in his typical, introverted tone.

I brushed my teeth, my mind fixated on Josh’s reaction to my panties. The wetness, created by his reaction and the sexy thrills teasing him had given me, had oozed from my cunt, soaking my panties. They didn’t reek of my cunt as I peeled them off; the scent and liquid evidence of my arousal perfumed the smallish bathroom, making the air smell sweetly horny.

The naughty thought of leaving them on top of the soiled clothes, rather than my usual practice of burying them under outerwear, made me feel like a sexual nymph. There was no mental debating, I just did it, then walked across the hall to my bedroom.

Minutes later, I heard Josh splashing around in the bathroom. He brushed, gargled, then washed up. Seconds later, I heard his door open and squeak closed. His bed was against our shared wall, while mine was on the far side. Knowing this, feeling consumed with teasing-induced lust, I jumped out of bed when the door creaked and sat in my bedroom chair. The chair faced the window, the dividing wall just inches to my side. An ottoman, wide enough for me to spread my legs, so I could finger myself, made it the perfect voyeuristic perch. I’d masturbated countless times, before, in that chair.

As I’d hoped, and as usual after a night of partying, after a few, long minutes, I heard his bed springs moving. The pacing was rhythmic, very slowly growing in volume and speed. I matched the pace, my ear pressed up against the wall. One finger was rubbing little circles around my clit, another tracing up and down my soaked slit. Sporadically, he’d pause; I took those moments to squeeze and gently pull on my nipples through my shirt.

Now and then, I could hear some soft, muted moaning. As always, I imagined that I was the cause of his horny arousal. Straining to hear clearly, my masturbatory efforts had me on the brink of my first orgasm. My thighs were shaking; my breath came in little, almost silent heaves. Suddenly, just when I thought he was going to blow his load, he stopped stroking. I knew he hadn't cum, yet, because the bed springs always shook noisily when he orgasmed.

Frustrated but still listening, I very faintly heard him whispering. The tone was impassioned, but I couldn’t make out the words; I could only just barely discern that he was talking. I didn’t know what came over me, and I didn’t care. I quietly got up from the chair, exited my bedroom, and pressed my ear to his bedroom door. The cheap, hollow core doors allowed me to easily hear his hushed whispers.

“You’re so sexy, so powerful,” I faintly heard. Josh’s voice was a quavering, horny, whisper. “I worship you. I’d lick your feet. I’d kneel before you to see your beautiful panties.”

Abashed, I listened; my fingers began assaulting my clit.

“Use me, abuse me,” he chanted. “You goddess panties feel so good. I’m not worthy.”

That made me stop fingering myself. A gasp began, but I caught it in my throat before my surprise betrayed my eavesdropping. Stunned but overwhelmed by the lusty inferno burning inside me, I backed into the bathroom and, with the dim light of the hallway nightlight, saw that my soiled panties were not on the top of the hamper.

That little pervert stole my panties to whack off in them! In the heat of the moment, I strode across the narrow hall and turned the knob on Josh’s bedroom door. It was unlocked, so I made a dramatic show of barging in.

He was laying on his bed, legs slightly spread, and that thick, somewhat large cock of his was sticking straight up as one of his hands slowly stroked it. His other hand held my missing panties up to his face, rubbing my womanly scent and wetness over his lips as he breathed in deeply.

“Caught you, you little, dirty pervert,” I erupted.

Josh jumped, my panties falling from his grasp, apologizing, and begging me not to evict him. I planned to make a joke about it and then fuck him, but something in his voice, the way he sheepishly cowered, suddenly made all the little telltale signs that I had previously missed click into place.

“I heard what you were mumbling,” I sternly stated. “The walls are thinner than you think.” That little fib was to protect me from becoming the perverted, eavesdropping roommate. “What’s all this talk about worshiping me and not being worthy?”

I thought he was going to cry. Josh blubbered incoherently, half-formed words pouring from his babbling hole.

“Say it,” I commanded. I felt sexy and powerful, even amused that the more I belittled him, the bigger his throbbing cock grew. “Say it, you dirty, little pervert, and I just might let you stay.”

“It’s my thing,” he blurted out, whining. “I’m a submissive! I love to be dominated by a sexy, powerful woman like you.”

Really? Now things made perfect sense.

“Then let’s work this out right now,” I smiled, taking a position at the foot of the bed, leaning against the foot. “Take my panties and wrap them around your pathetic little cock, you worm.”

I expected him to refuse, but, instead, his entire body convulsed, and he let out a loud moan. It made me wet.

“Oh, you like that, do you?” I chastised. He nodded vigorously. “You like hearing about how you’re just a little, perverted, worm, don’t you? Do you know what little worms do? They steal panties and whack off into them because they’re not allowed to touch their goddess.”

“Yes, Mistress Lil,” he agreed. I was liking this.

“Lilith,” I corrected. “When you serve your goddess, you’ll address her as Mistress Lilith. You will not address her by, Lillian, her full name. You are forbidden to call her Lil, do you understand.”

“Yes,” he said in a sheepish, submissive voice that wavered with excitement.

“Yes, what, you fucking maggot?”

“Yes, Mistress Lilith. Yes, Mistress.”

“Better,” I said, my voice seething a disdain that elicited more moans and body quakes. “Now wrap my filthy panties around your pathetic cock and finish what you were doing.”

“Yes, Mistress Lilith,” he obediently replied.

I watched as he covered his manhood with my feminine undies and slowly began stroking his erect shaft.

“Faster,” I demanded. “You wanted to get off to my panties because you’re not good enough to be allowed to fuck me, so enjoy your one, free cum. After this, I own your orgasms, you fucking, little slime.”

“Yes, Mistress Lilith. My pathetic little wiener is going to cum for you. Order me to cum; please, let me cum.”

Feeling evil, I spread my legs and fingered my dripping cunt slowly. His mouth dropped open, moans escaping it, and he just stared. His fist pumped his satin-covered cock furiously, a blur of sexual need.

“Cum while you yearn for this hot, dripping cunt, you filthy, little worm. You’ll need to earn the privilege of licking my toes, let alone my hard, throbbing clit. You’re worthless, you know that?”

“I’m scum,” he screamed. “I’m a worthless worm, a fuck toy. Please, make me your slave, Lilith. I need to serve you.”

With that, he came into my panties, his hot spunk wetting them. Words of worship spewed from his mouth; words of thanks followed. A lusty power, sexuality unleashed, washed over me, possessing me. Without any thought, I reached toward his shriveling cock and tore my panties off of it.

“Open your mouth to accept my gift, you little fuck toy,” I commanded. My voice was as hard as steel.

He acquiesced, his entire body visibly trembling. His gasps of delight were muffled when I wadded up my cum-soaked panties, wet side out, and jammed them into his opened mouth. Whimpering moans were all that could be heard.

“You shut your fucking worthless mouth and watch, you little whore.” I spread my legs wide, laying one calf over his shins, and jammed my fingers inside my cunt. The heat and wetness surprised me, but I didn’t care.

Fucking myself with a fury that equaled Josh’s jacking, I plunged my fingers into my dripping twat so deeply that I soaked my palm. Not bothering with building up, I tugged and smashed my clit with my other hand, degrading words pouring from my now-foul mouth, much to his delight.

“This is what you can’t have. You’ll beg for it, worship my pussy power, but must earn the divine privilege of seeing it ever again, let alone touching it. This is my cunt, you worthless piece of fucking trash, not yours. But, I own your pathetic little cock. I own your little ass, you man-slut.”

I was so close to cumming that I could only moan. I fucked myself hard, drunk from the power of him laying there, obedient, with my panties stuffed in his mouth. My orgasm was extreme, harder, and longer than any I’d had in a long time.

“Now,” I said when I came down from the bliss of sexual release. “Put on the panties and sleep in them, so you know your place.”

“Yes, Mistress Lilith,” he happily agreed as he rushed to do my bidding.

Without a word, giving him only a stern look of demeaning appraisal, I left his bedroom and went into mine. I was so stunned over what had occurred that I relived every detail in my mind while I tried to surrender to sleep. However, I was still too worked up for slumber. I fingered myself to three more orgasms before I could finally sleep.

When I woke up, Josh was in the kitchen preparing breakfast. The coffee had just finished brewing and I smelled eggs and bacon. I had to stifle a laugh when I saw him. He was wearing only my panties.

“Josh, what are you doing?”

“Mistress Lilith didn’t tell me to take off her panties, yet,” he merrily chimed. His sexy face was happier and more peaceful than I ever recall seeing it.

“Very well,” I said as the realization of how deeply embedded his kink sank in. “Finish cooking, serve your goddess, then sit and eat. We have some things to discuss. Let's discuss the house rules.”

To be continued…