Chapter 17: The Ultimate Submission
The silence in the days that followed was different. It wasn't empty; it was pressurized, like the air before a lightning strike. Nat moved through the apartment in a state of detached calm. She didn't speak to Micha. He had become a ghost, flinching at her footsteps, scurrying to his room if she entered a common space. His humiliation was a living thing that trailed behind him, and she found she enjoyed the scent of it.
Chris, by contrast, treated her with a new, casual ownership. A hand on the small of her back as she made coffee. A murmured "good girl" when she wore a particular skirt. It was no longer a seduction. It was administration.
It was Lucia who broke the tense peace, her arrival a burst of normalcy that now felt alien. She dropped her bag on the sagging couch and eyed Nat, who was curled in an armchair reading, her glasses perched low on her nose.
"Okay, qué diablos is going on?" Lucia asked, her dark eyes sharp. "Micha looks like he's seen the devil, you're sitting there glowing like a fucking saint, and Chris has that smug cat-who-ate-the-canary grin he gets after a particularly good fuck." She paused, a slow smile spreading. "Oh. Was it a particularly good fuck? Did you finally let the big dog off the leash?"
Nat closed her book. "Something like that."
Lucia whistled low. "About time. I've been telling you for months that boy was hollow. So? Details. Was it everything I said it was?"
Before Nat could answer, the front door opened again. Erna walked in, carrying a bag of groceries. She froze when she saw them. A complicated flicker of emotions crossed her face—surprise, irritation, and then a wary calculation.
"Lucia. Nat," Erna said, her voice carefully neutral. "I was just dropping off some of Micha's things he left at my place. Again." She said it pointedly, a little barb aimed at Nat.
Nat felt a cold spark. The old annoyance, but now filtered through a new lens of absolute confidence. "How thoughtful. You can leave them by the door. He'll get them later."
Erna didn't move. "Is he here? I'd like to say hello."
Chris's door opened down the hall, and he sauntered into the living room, as if summoned by the gathering tension. He wore only low-slung jeans, his bare chest a testament to casual power. He looked at the three women, a slow grin spreading.
"A reunion," he said, his voice a rich, amused baritone. "Perfect."
Erna's posture changed instantly at the sight of him. Her defensiveness melted into a soft, submissive readiness. "Chris," she breathed, the single word dripping with longing.
Lucia rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "Christ, Erna. You're pathetic."
Chris ignored them, his focus landing on Nat. "You've been initiated. But initiation is just theory. Tonight is a practical exam." He walked to the center of the room, a king claiming his court. "Erna, you're still hooked on my cock, aren't you? Still dreaming about it while you pretend to care about Micha?"
Erna blushed deeply, but she nodded, unable to lie.
"Lucia, you like to watch, and you like to play."
Lucia shrugged, a wicked glint in her eye. "It's been a boring week."
"Nat," Chris said, finally. "You understand power now. But you need to understand hierarchy. You're not at the bottom. But you're not at the top. Tonight, you learn your place. All of you." He pulled his phone from his pocket, typed a quick message, and looked back up. "Micha! Get out here. Now."
A moment of silence, then Micha's door creaked open. He shuffled out, eyes downcast. He looked wretched.
"Stay there," Chris commanded. He then reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a small, gleaming silver object—a chastity cage. And a leather collar with a leash.
Micha's breath hitched. "Chris, please… not in front of…"
"In front of everyone," Chris said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "You forfeited your privacy when you chose to be a spectator in your own life. Now you'll be one officially. Put it on."
With trembling hands, Micha undid his belt and jeans, letting them pool around his ankles. His small, soft penis looked insignificant, pathetic. He fumbled with the cage, his fingers clumsy with shame, but eventually got it locked into place. The cold silver looked absurd and cruel against his pale skin.
"Now the collar."
Micha lifted it, clasped it around his own neck, the click of the buckle obscenely loud in the silent room.
Chris attached the leash and gave it a sharp tug, pulling Micha off-balance. "On the floor. By the coffee table. You watch. You don't speak. You don't touch yourself. You exist to witness."
Micha collapsed onto his knees, the leash going slack. He stared at the stained carpet, his shoulders shaking.
Chris turned his attention back to the women. "Erna. Clothes off. On the couch. Legs spread."
Erna, accustomed to his commands, obeyed with a hurried desperation. She shimmied out of her jeans and top, her small breasts heaving, her slight frame looking even smaller naked. She laid back on the couch, spreading her legs, exposing herself. Her arousal was already evident.
"Lucia. You're on her face. Keep her busy."
Lucia laughed, a dark, happy sound. "With pleasure." She stripped efficiently, her lush curves a contrast to Erna's petite form. She stalked over to the couch, swung a leg over Erna's shoulders, and lowered her dripping cunt onto Erna's waiting mouth. Erna's hands came up to grip Lucia's thighs, and she began to eat her out with hungry, practiced swipes of her tongue.
"Nat," Chris said, his eyes burning into her. "You're on Erna. I want you to taste what devotion tastes like. I want you to learn how to service a woman who serves me."
Nat felt a jolt. This was new territory. She had never been with a woman. But the command, the context, stripped away any hesitation. This wasn't about desire; it was about obedience and ascent. She removed her clothes, her movements deliberate, and walked to the couch. She glanced at Micha, who was watching, horrified and rapt, from his knees. She held his gaze as she knelt between Erna's spread legs.
The musky, sweet scent filled her nostrils. She looked at Chris. He nodded, once.
Nat leaned in and licked a slow stripe through Erna's folds. Erna moaned against Lucia's pussy, her hips bucking. The taste was complex—slightly salty, musky, undeniably female. Nat did it again, finding a rhythm, using her fingers to part Erna's lips and circling her clit with her tongue. Erna's moans grew louder, muffled by Lucia's body. Lucia rocked above her, grinding down on her face, urging her on.
"Good," Chris murmured, stroking his own cock, which was now fully erect, a thick, veined pillar of flesh. "Make her come. Show her your talented tongue."
Nat obeyed, focusing her efforts, licking and sucking with a determined intensity she didn't know she possessed. Erna’s thighs tightened around her head, a series of high-pitched whimpers escaping her. She came with a convulsive shudder, her back arching off the couch, her juices coating Nat’s chin.
Before Nat could react, Chris was there. He pulled her up by her hair, not roughly, but with absolute authority. He turned her to face the room. Lucia had dismounted, wiping herself on a cushion, watching with avid interest. Erna lay boneless and gasping.
"Now," Chris said, his voice thick. "You understand service. Now you take your reward." He guided her to the middle of the room, away from the furniture. "On your hands and knees."
Nat assumed the position, the carpet rough against her palms and knees. She felt exposed, an offering.
The front door opened. Two young women Nat had never seen before walked in. One was tall and willowy with bleach-blonde hair; the other was shorter, with a riot of red curls and a pierced nose. They looked around, their eyes lighting up when they saw Chris.
"Conzi, Bambi, perfect timing," Chris said. "You're up."
The blonde, Conzi, stripped quickly, revealing a toned, athletic body. The redhead, Bambi, followed, her body softer, curvier. They looked at Nat with friendly, predatory smiles.
"Conzi, you first. Ride my cock. Bambi, you get her mouth," Chris directed.
Conzi positioned herself behind Nat, lining up Chris's massive cock. She sank down onto it with a gasp, taking him inch by inch until he was fully seated inside her. She began to bounce, her ass slapping against Nat's back.
Bambi moved in front of Nat, stroking her wet pussy. "Open up, sweetie," she said, her voice sweet as syrup. Nat opened her mouth, and Bambi guided her cock—a thick, pink silicone strap-on—past her lips. Nat gagged at first, then relaxed her throat, taking the fake dick deep as Bambi began to fuck her face in rhythm with Conzi's bouncing.
Nat was trapped in a pulsing, overwhelming vise of sensation. The thick strap-on filled her mouth and throat, the taste of rubber and Bambi's arousal on her tongue. Behind her, she could feel every inch of Chris moving inside Conzi, the impact trembling through both their bodies into her own. She was the conduit. The object. It was degrading. It was transcendent.
"Switch!" Chris grunted.
In a fluid, practiced motion, Conzi lifted off and Bambi took her place, impaling herself on Chris with a cry of pleasure. Conzi, now free, grabbed the strap-on from Bambi and shoved it back into Nat's mouth, fucking her face with renewed vigor.
The room was a symphony of obscene sounds: wet slaps, guttural moans, the choked gags as Nat took the fake cock, the sharp, commanding tone of Chris's voice as he directed traffic. The air grew thick with the smell of sweat and sex.
Through it all, from the corner of her watering eye, Nat could see Micha. He was still on his knees, his hands clenched at his sides, tears streaming down his face. He was watching his girlfriend be used as a communal fuck-toy, and the cage on his dick remained cruelly, undeniably flat.
Chris's control began to fracture. His thrusts became erratic, brutal. "All of you, on her!" he roared.
Conzi and Bambi understood. They peeled away. Chris pulled out of Bambi, his cock slick and gleaming. He pushed Nat onto her back. He didn't enter her. Instead, he gripped his shaft and began to stroke himself furiously over her body.
"Open your mouth," he commanded. Nat did. "No. For them."
Understanding, Conzi and Bambi knelt on either side of Nat's head, positioning their wet pussies over her mouth. Erna, revived, crawled over and sat on Nat's face, while Lucia lowered herself onto Nat's mouth from above, creating a layered, suffocating canopy of female flesh.
Nat's world narrowed to taste and touch and the desperate need to breathe. She licked and sucked at whatever was pressed against her lips, drowning in a sea of musk and juices.
Above her, Chris roared. Hot streaks of cum splashed across Nat's stomach, her breasts, her throat. He emptied himself onto her, marking her with thick, pearlescent ropes.
He stepped back, breathing heavily. "Clean her up."
The women climbed off. Conzi and Bambi, with giggles and gentle hands, began to lick Chris's cum from Nat's skin. Erna joined in, kissing it from her belly. Lucia watched, then bent to kiss Nat deeply, sharing the bitter taste.
When they were done, Chris looked at Micha. "Your girlfriend is a masterpiece. A perfect, filthy tool. And you…" He kicked the leash lightly. "You're not even a tool. You're the case the tool came in. A worthless container."
Chris pulled on his jeans. He looked at the women. "Conzi, Bambi, see yourselves out. Erna, go home. Lucia, help Nat to her room."
As the others dispersed, Chris crouched in front of Micha. He unlocked the chastity cage with a small key, letting it fall to the carpet. Micha's small, shriveled cock was untouched, ignored.
"If you ever touch her again without my permission," Chris said, his voice conversational, "I will end you. You are a pet. A neutered pet. Remember that."
He stood up and walked away, leaving Nat on the floor, covered in the evidence of her lesson, and Micha weeping silently beside her, a leash still attached to his neck.
Nat, with Lucia's help, got to her feet. Her legs were weak, her body felt used and vibrantly alive. She looked at Micha, at the crumpled, broken thing he was. She felt no pity. Only a distant, clean contempt.
She had learned her place. It was not at the bottom. And as she walked to her room, leaning on Lucia, she began to plan how she would climb higher.