Kenji´s Submission

POV: Kenji

Later, in the dim glow of their bedroom, Emily lay draped over him like a queen claiming a servant.

Her thigh slid between his.

Her fingers traced idle circles low on his belly.

Her breath tickled his throat.

“So…” she whispered, “tell me again what you thought of Eli tonight.”

Kenji hesitated. “He was… strong.”

“Mhm.” Her lips brushed his jaw. “Dominant. Protective. Everything a real man should be.”

Her hand slid beneath his waistband.

Her fingers wrapped around him.

He gasped.

“But you…” she murmured, stroking languidly, almost mockingly. “You’re my sweet little thing.”

She squeezed lightly — more teasing than arousing.

“My soft little clitty.”

Heat shot through Kenji’s entire body.

“Emily—”

“Shhh.” She pumped him slowly, rhythmically, humiliatingly tender. “You were more of a girl tonight than I was.”

Her words hurt.

Her words turned him on.

Emily leaned close, her lips brushing his ear, her voice thick, erotic, unmistakably in control.

“Say it.”

Kenji’s breath shook. “I… I’m…”

Emily’s tone sharpened, low and commanding. “Say what you are.”

“I’m your… girl,” Kenji whispered, the word breaking as it left him.

A pleased hum vibrated in Emily’s throat. “Good. Now say what you have.”

Kenji swallowed. “…a clitty…”

Emily’s fingers tightened around him, her voice dripping with cruel amusement. “And what does Eli have?”

Kenji whimpered. “A… a dick. A massive, juicy dick.”

Emily exhaled a soft laugh against his neck — approving, claiming. “Good girl.””

Kenji whimpered.

His hips lifted into her hand automatically.His body begged even as his mind shattered.

“No… say it properly,” she whispered. “Tell me how you feel about Eli.”

Kenji froze.

A moan half‑formed in his throat.

“I… I…”

“Say. It.”

“I love him…”

Her hand stopped instantly.

The loss of stimulation felt like a slap.

Emily sat up slowly, cold authority settling over her like a mantle.

“That,” she said, “was a bad answer.”

Kenji trembled.

“Roll over.”

The command was quiet. Unarguable.

He rolled onto his stomach, his heartbeat hammering into the sheets, the rough weave scratching his cheek. Emily's weight shifted behind him, and he heard the soft clink of her belt buckle, the zipper of her jeans. She was undressing, but not for his benefit—not yet. The mattress dipped as she positioned herself, one hand pressing firmly between his shoulder blades to keep him down.

“Good girls,” she said softly, her palm coming down on his ass with a sharp crack that echoed off the brick walls, “don’t confess love for other men.”

The sting bloomed hot and immediate, making Kenji gasp and arch slightly. He bit his lip, tasting salt, as another smack landed, harder this time. Emily's strikes were precise, not frantic—each one a deliberate punctuation to her words. “You're disgusting, Kenji. Look at you, leaking all over the sheets just from a little spanking. Not a man at all. Just a pathetic little sissy with a useless clitty.”

Her hand rubbed the reddening skin soothingly for a moment, only to deliver another swat that made his toes curl. Kenji's mind spun, humiliation flooding him as arousal throbbed between his legs. He remembered the garden moment from weeks ago, how he'd kissed her deeply after apologizing for some petty jealousy, only for her to flip the script and lead him inside, her dark, hungry demeanor taking over. This was that same hunger now, amplified, devouring him.

“Eli wouldn't take this shit,” she continued, her voice laced with mocking pity as she spanked him again, the impacts building a rhythm that had him pushing back involuntarily. “He'd fuck me right here, hard and deep, make me scream his name. But you? You're just my little girlfriend now. Maybe I should date him properly. Let him claim what's his while you watch from the corner, touching that sad excuse for a dick.”

Kenji moaned into the pillow, his body betraying him with every word. The thought of it—Emily with Eli, their bodies tangled while he knelt nearby, **** and denied—sent a twisted thrill through him. He hoped, in the darkest corner of his mind, that it could go further: that they'd pull him in, use him together, Eli's massive cock stretching him while Emily whispered degradations in his ear. The fantasy made his clitty ache, pre-cum slicking his thighs.

Emily paused, her fingers tracing the welts on his ass, dipping lower to tease his hole. “You like that, don't you? The idea of me with a real man. Say it. Beg for it.”

“Please, Emily,” he gasped, voice muffled. “I... I'm disgusting. Not a man. Just your girl. Date Eli. Let him fuck you. Use me however you want.”

She chuckled, low and satisfied, reaching for the nightstand drawer. The sound of lube being squirted was unmistakable, followed by the cool slickness of her fingers circling his entrance. “That's better. But you're going to earn it tonight. Spread your legs.”

Kenji obeyed, parting his thighs as she worked one finger inside him, slow and probing. He was tight, always was at first, but her commanding presence made him relax, made him crave the invasion. She added a second finger, scissoring them to stretch him, her free hand gripping his hip hard enough to bruise. “Feel that? That's what a real fuck feels like. Not your tiny clitty poking around. Eli's dick would ruin you for good.”

He whimpered, pushing back onto her hand, the burn turning to pleasure as she crooked her fingers against his prostate. Sparks shot up his spine, his cock trapped and leaking against the sheets. Emily's teasing personality shone through in the way she withdrew just as he started to beg, leaving him empty and clenching around nothing. She stripped fully now, her tank top hitting the floor with a soft thud, jeans kicked aside. Naked, she was a vision—curves honed from yoga sessions in the loft's open space, her pussy already glistening with her own arousal.

“On your back,” she ordered, flipping him over with surprising strength. Kenji's eyes locked on hers, wide and pleading, as she straddled his chest, her knees pinning his arms. Her scent enveloped him, musky and intoxicating, as she ground her wet folds against his sternum. “Lick.”

He craned his neck, tongue darting out to taste her, lapping at her clit with **** fervor. Emily moaned, low and throaty, her hands tangling in his hair to guide him. “That's it, my little girl. Worship your mistress. Eli would never do this— he'd take without asking. But you? You live for it.”

Kenji's tongue delved deeper, fucking into her with sloppy enthusiasm, her juices coating his chin. She rode his face, hips rolling in a rhythm that had her gasping, her commanding warmth flooding his senses. He remembered how she'd kissed him deeply after that garden apology, her hunger mirroring this moment, but now it was sharper, edged with the thrill of control. Her thighs quivered, and she came with a shuddering cry, grinding down until he thought he'd suffocate in her bliss.

But Emily wasn't one to let him rest. She slid down his body, grabbing the strap-on harness from the drawer—a thick, black dildo that dwarfed his own erection, veined and realistic. She buckled it on efficiently, the harness framing her hips like a weapon. Lubing it up, she positioned the tip at his entrance, teasing him with shallow thrusts. “Beg for it, sissy. Tell me why you deserve this.”

“Please, Emily,” Kenji panted, legs hooked over her shoulders as she loomed over him. “Fuck your disgusting girl. I'm not a man—I'm nothing. Use me like Eli would use you.”

She thrust in hard, burying half the length in one go. Kenji cried out, the stretch burning deliciously, his clitty bouncing against his stomach with the ****. Emily set a punishing pace, hips snapping forward, the harness slapping against his ass with wet smacks. “That's right. Take it like the slut you are. Imagine Eli here, watching me peg your worthless hole. Maybe next time I'll invite him. Let him fuck your mouth while I ruin this ass.”

The words fueled Kenji's desperation, his hand twitching toward his cock, but she slapped it away. “No touching. Good girls cum from this alone.” She angled her thrusts to hit his prostate relentlessly, building pressure that had him babbling incoherently—mixes of “yes, mistress” and “I'm sorry” tumbling out. Sweat slicked their bodies, the loft's air thick with the sounds of skin on skin, her grunts mingling with his moans.

Emily's hand wrapped around his throat, not squeezing hard, but enough to make his vision blur at the edges. “You're mine to break. Disgusting little clitty-boy. If I date Eli, you'll be our toy—our little girlfriend, on your knees for both of us.” The fantasy she'd planted took root, Kenji's mind fracturing as he pictured it: Eli's massive dick in his mouth, Emily's strap in his ass, them using him in tandem until he was a wrecked, cum-soaked mess. It was his secret hope, buried under layers of shame, and her words dragged it into the light.

She flipped him again, onto all fours, mounting him from behind like an animal. The new angle let her go deeper, the dildo pounding into him with brutal precision. Kenji's arms gave out, face pressed into the mattress as she railed him, her nails digging into his hips. “Cum for me, girl. Show me how pathetic you are.”

He did, shattering with a muffled scream, his clitty spurting ropes of cum onto the sheets without a single touch. The orgasm ripped through him, waves of humiliating pleasure that left him trembling. Emily didn't stop, fucking him through it until he was oversensitive and begging for mercy. Only then did she pull out, leaving him gaping and empty, before flipping him onto his back once more.

Her turn again. She straddled his face, the strap-on discarded, and rode to another climax, this one slower, her fingers circling her clit as she used his tongue. Kenji lapped eagerly, tasting her release as it flooded his mouth, her satisfied hum echoing the one from their earlier games.

When she finally collapsed beside him, both slick with sweat and spent, Emily pulled him close, her commanding edge softening just a fraction. Kenji curled into her, head on her chest, the aftershocks still humming in his body. “You're mine,” she murmured, fingers tracing lazy patterns on his back. “But who knows? Maybe Eli gets a turn to play with my little girlfriend.”

Kenji's heart skipped, a mix of dread and illicit excitement. In the quiet of the loft, with the trains rumbling outside like a distant applause, he whispered, “Whatever you want, Emily.” And in that moment, as her lips brushed his forehead, he realized the real twist: she wasn't just dominating him—she was rewriting the rules of their world, one degrading thrust at a time. But hell, he'd rewrite himself for her. No. Not only for her, for him, over and over, if it meant feeling this alive.