Unbetitelt

I had just come back from a hard shift at work when I noticed my front door was unlocked and cracked open. I stepped inside and immediately noticed a tall, lean guy in a shiny tracksuit lounging on a chair in front of my TV. He played on my PlayStation casually, as if he owned the place. “Who are you?” I asked and received no response.

“Get out of my house before I call the police,” I threatened.

“Shut up already,” he barked at me, which caused me to do so. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t want to shout at him anymore. I was just about to reach into my pocket to pull out my phone when he said, “Don’t move. You don’t want to move until I tell you to,” and I stopped. He was right. I didn’t want to. I had never wanted to move until he told me to. It was weird for him to mention that fact now, though.

He finally turned away from the TV to face me. His gaze showed that he saw me as nothing but an inconvenience. “Since you want to yap your tongue so bad, go ahead and clean my kicks with them.” I hated this guy so much. Like hell, I was going to lick his disgusting shoes, yet my body disagreed. I could only internally panic as my body knelt in front of him, my mouth already opening up in anticipation. My anger turned to confusion, confused as to how he was manipulating me like this. I could only assume my discomfort was visible because of his following words.

“Stop pretending like you don’t like this. We both know how much you love being underneath me.” I didn’t know why he needed to say that; obviously I liked being beneath him. I just hated how I was treated, like nothing more than an object. He didn’t even look at me as he kicked off his sneakers with his feet, revealing a pair of sweat-stained white socks. “You’re not a person, just my bitch. And my bitch loves everything about me. They know their place is breathing me, worshipping me, and finding my taste and smell irresistible. They want me to be in charge of their life, serving and pleasing me. They love my trackies, and they love me. Don’t you agree, bitch?”

He describes me perfectly. I don’t know why I was upset. He is everything. I am his bitch, and I deserve to be under him. I dug my face into his socks, tasting them with raw desire. I can’t believe I ever thought of myself as a person when he existed. I love his smell, his tracksuit, his musk, I love him, and I am nothing but his bitch.