iSub 2

Handcuffs cinched around my wrists and for a moment, all I could feel was cold, hard steel. My hands were bound, unable to move in any real way. And from the way Peyton looked at me, she liked that.

“See what happens when you listen well? You get rewarded.” She kissed me gently on the cheek before moving her lips to my ear. “I know it’s hard to pay attention… the state you’re in, you submissive little thing… but just a little while longer… then I’ll just be using that kinky little body… but first I’m going to make you do things… things you never imagined… things you’ll enjoy more than you ever thought possible.”

She meant it. I could tell she meant it. And my cunt was dripping from it.

“Lift your knees,” she told me. I did as she said, while she pulled down my panties, working them under my raised knees one at a time and then sliding them down my legs, off my feet, into her hand alone.

Peyton lifted them to her nose and sniffed. “Mmmm… I can tell I’ll like the way your pussy tastes. I already like how it smells. Are you this wet all the time? Or just when you’re around me?”

“It’s… the way you’re talking to me,” I said haltingly. Peyton was really getting to me.

“That’s all? Not this dress I’m wearing?” She took hold of the lapels of her leather jacket and pulled it open, showing me all of her supple frame body wrapped in that low-cut dress. The dress was nice—real chic—but it was just the wrapping for a body that was delicious all on its own. I swooned. Made a little moaning sound.

And with my mouth open, she grasped my hair, wrenched my head back—my mouth widened at the pain, the moan becoming a gasp—and she shoved the panties into my mouth, gagging me.

“MMMPH!”

“What’s the matter, Liv?” Peyton cooed. “Are you worried about me? Thinking that since you get off so bad on hearing me talk, that my nipples won’t get hard unless I hear what you have to say?” She was grinning broadly, obviously enjoying herself hugely. “Only I don’t need to hear you talk to get turned on by you. What gets me hot is doing this to you. God, baby, you look so good with something in your mouth. I’m going to have to find a lot more to stick in that hole—even if the conversation does suffer for it.”

I should’ve felt irked at her presumptuousness—I almost was—but she had it right. I loved this too. I couldn’t wait for more. But the important thing was, Peyton couldn’t wait either, and since she didn’t want to, we wouldn’t be.

She produced a long silken cord and tied up my ankles, neatly, efficiently, so I could no more move them than I could my arms. Then she wrapped another one around my knees and knotted it up. My cunt was really flowing now. My face was scarlet. I wanted her to reach down between my legs, to the sex she’d made bare, and feel how wet I was, taste, smell—but she didn’t.

What Peyton did was look at my face and she must’ve liked that more, what I looked like, because she kept staring, and came closer, and closer, wetting her lips with her tongue, then puckering them, moving in for a kiss even if I was gagged, it didn’t matter, only what Peyton wanted matter, she was in total control and was going to have a lot of fun with me and I was going to be hershershersHERS—

The alarm clock beeped.

Liv woke up with her clit feeling like a livewire. It wasn't the first sex dream she'd had about Peyton… she was Peyton… but this was the first time she was left wanting to attack her cunt until it felt the same way as Peyton had made her feel.

The dream Peyton, not the one in real life.

Important distinction there.

Liv got up and took off her boxers and tank top. They were soaked with sweat and undoubtedly other fluids, in the case of her boxers. She was glad to be rid of them, until her sheer nakedness aroused her.

She usually didn't feel naked on her own, but the memory… dream… of Peyton looking at her nudity was so fresh… dream Peyton, that is… Liv took a quick, cold shower and dressed as sexlessly as possible. Knit pants, a cardigan her mom had bought her, and no makeup. She did not want to fixate on her eyes and lips right now, not after Peyton…

No, not Peyton, not in a million years Peyton.

The dream.

The dream she wouldn't have thought was hers in a million years. 

Liv leaned against the wall, resisting the urge to bang her head on it… through the plaster, she heard Peyton yawning herself awake. Her heart quickened. Peyton was the most morning morning person ever. Liv’s dream had been intense enough to wake her up actually before Peyton, but now they were both up, both awake… with hours to fill before they went to bed again. 

Liv felt like another cold shower now. Sweat was gathering under her arms. Other moisture held her sex in a death grip. She ran her hands through her hair and… oh crap… when Peyton had pulled her hair…

Dream Peyton, for the love of God! 

She decided she would just have to avoid Peyton until this brain ran its course. That wouldn't be too hard. She could go for a walk until Peyton went to work. Her own job would keep her away from Peyton most of the day. In the evening, she could hang out with Ravi or Major until Peyton was in bed… asleep… Liv felt so much like another cold shower… and then she'd go to bed herself. Never really seeing Peyton. Only feeling her presence.

Liv realized she still had her head against the wall, listening to Peyton’s room, only when her roommate sneezed. Her spine went rigid. Was Peyton sick? Maybe in pain? Liv rushed to the bedroom door, only barely managing to stop to knock at the door and not barge in on Peyton unannounced.

What if she slept in the nude? Liv could not look upon such a thing without earning it. That'd be unforgivable; Peyton would think her such a bad girl. Not even worth discipling.

“Peyton?” Liv knocked lightly at the door, trying not to jar Peyton too roughly from whatever important thoughts she was having. But she kept knocking and knocking–lightly. She couldn't take the thought of Peyton not hearing her.

“Peyton? Are you okay? Are you sick? Do you need a doctor? I'm sort of a doctor, but if you need one who's more about living people, I'll totally understand.”

“Liv?” Peyton called through the door. “Come in, I can barely hear you.”

Even as she opened the door, Liv realized what she'd done. She'd deliberately made her voice too low for Peyton to hear so she would have to let her in, tricking her into letting Liv see her. She felt horrible. She needed to be punished.

No, she needed to get a grip. This wasn't a dream, it was real life. If she went in there begging for Peyton to punish her, she'd totally ruin their friendship.

Unless she told Peyton it was for an investigation, like they'd already done. Mistress Peyton hadn't minded using a riding crop on her fat ass at all.

But no, she didn't dare lie to Mistress Peyton, not again. And not Mistress Peyton, regular Peyton, who wasn't even gay, to the relief of men everywhere.

Resolving to be normal, Liv pushed into the bedroom. Peyton laid in bed, wearing an elegant, yet adorable set of pajamas. Even freshly awake, digging some crud out of her eyes, she looked heart stopping. For once, Liv was glad to be a zombie. Couldn't blush when you were an albino.

“What can I do you for?” Peyton asked, stretching a kink out of her back.

Her pajama top crawled up her statuesque body. Liv saw an expanse of tanned, toned belly and felt like kneeling down and being Peyton's footrest for as many hours as it would take to be allowed to kiss those dainty diamond abs…

“I heard you sneeze. You're not getting sick, are you? It's okay if you are, Mistress.” Liv coughed, trying to quickly cover that last word.

“I think it's just a 24 hour bug. I was blowing my nose all day at work yesterday, but it's not so bad now. Although I did just think I heard you call me Mistress…”

“Can I get you anything, mis… sus Charles?”

Peyton's brow furrowed, but then she shook her head like she always did when Liv was being weird. She was so understanding, her mistress…

“Wake me up if my alarm clock doesn't go off? I think I'm going to sleep in a little. That'll do me.”

Do you… do me… why did she have to tease her like that? Did she know… was she Liv’s mistress, playing with her?

No, of course not. Wishful thinking.

Liv still wanted to touch herself so bad. She almost wanted to leave to do just that, because she didn't dare… in front of Peyton… but she knew it was more important to serve. And anyway, she didn't care what brain she was on, she was not masturbating while even slightly thinking about her best friend. Not even them having a threesome with Tom Hardy.

“Are you sure I can't get you… anything… miss…?”

“Liv, I swear, between you and my mother, I am going to get a complex about still being single… I suppose I could go for some iced tea.”

Liv just about jumped for joy. Something she could do for Mistress Peyton! A chance to be a good girl!

“I'll get it right away, mistress.”

Peyton pulled the bedsheet a little higher up her chest. “Okay, you definitely called me Mistress just then.”

“Sorry, Mistress,” Liv helplessly squealed before running out of the room. She couldn't take even a week of this. She had to eat a new brain.

But first she'd get Mistress Peyton her tea.