Pavlov'ed

"Yours?" I ventured. Right answer?

Emily shook her head, leaning forward slightly at the waist to cross her arms. She wouldn't bend her knees and descend to my level, but loom over me instead. As she should. Besides, it brought back the view of those glorious breasts, those which had enraptured me for so long. I stared openly, dumbly.

She slapped me across the face, again, not powerfully enough to hurt, but enough to shock. Was that for a wrong answer, or for the lustful stare?

"I am..." I faltered. "I am...whatever you want me to be."

Finally she knelt down besides me and ran a hand through my hair. Loving. Warm.

"Well said." She paused for a second. Whispered. "Are you a slut?"

"For you? Yes."

"Say it."

"I am your slut."

"Are you a whore?"

"Yes."

"What kind of a whore?"

"Yours."

"What else?"

"A horny one. A horny little whore. Who needs you. I am Emily's horny little whore."

Emily smiled and ruffled my hair again. "You learn so fast." She embraced me, and I let myself hold her. "Good boy," she murmured lovingly, her voice barely audible. Her breath, if anything, was more tangible than her words, and it made my hair rise on end. Ears were an erogenous zone for me.

"I am your mistress." She, inadvertently, seemed to betray a moment of hesitation. Unsurety? Imagined, perhaps.

"Yes...mistress." I felt the word in my mouth. Novel, weird, and yet familiar all the same.

"I like the sound of that." Emily looked so...regal, of sorts. This was how it ought to be. So beautiful. So hot. Powerful. "And will you do as I say?"

"Yes, mistress."

She quickly clapped her hands twice. "You learn so well! Makes me happy. But this is always. At school. At home. Every time in between. Do you understand?"

"Yes, mistress. Of course." And I meant it. I was genuinely excited and happy. I was something to her now. Trepidation necessarily sullied the purity of the preceding emotion, but perhaps it was only right. Perhaps I should be scared.

Emily's eyes gleamed, mischief brewing that I could only dream of. "You can go now. Well done today." She gently patted my cheek.

"Thank you, mistress." My cheek felt warm where she touched it, and I absentmindedly raised a knuckle to it, savoring the remnant heat. I couldn't believe this was the same girl who remained quiet in her little girl groups and texted with more acronyms than emoticons than I had ever known.

I turned towards the door, where my clothes awaited in the car, where ordinary, prosaic life awaited. I made towards it, and hesitated.

"...Mistress Emily?"

She had begun shuffling towards the bathroom as she titivated her hair, back towards me. She froze, not unnaturally. "Yes?"

I paused again. The day's events had, I knew, climaxed. But I still hadn't. Did I risk it?

"Is the offer to come still good?"

Emily turned, hands in position to continue her adjustment. Musingly, as if thinking out loud, she said "I suppose you never did. Very well." She beckoned with a finger to follow her into the bathroom.

It was a generally warmer color scheme, a modernly minimalist sink catercorner to a shower of glass doors. "I wish you were wearing clothes, so I could make you strip. So fun." She gestured for me to step inside, and I obeyed.

She, fully clothed, also stepped inside. Putting both hands on my shoulders, Emily pressed down, intending for me to be on my knees. "Stroke."

Dutifully, I did. Back and forth, steadily, but not actually deriving much pleasure from it yet. My mind was simply enjoying the bliss of listening to her, and I'd totally forgotten that this was primarily for my benefit.

I was more than hard by now, dick straining as it was before, and prudence alerted me to slow down, lest I orgasm, which I presumed would not be a good idea. "Mistress, I'm...going...to-"

"Stop."

I stopped. Then I looked up at her, eyes pleading in a way that my mouth would surely follow soon, if I felt it safe to talk. Yet for now, her eyes were thoughtful, and I could tell she was deliberating over something.

"Continue. I want you to degrade yourself. Use my name while you do it. Understood? You are jacking off to me. You get to come because of me. I am the reason."

I nodded assent vigorously. Honestly, I wasn't confident, but I also didn't care. I just wanted to come.

I ran my fingers along the length of the shaft. "Thank you, Mistress Emily." That internal heat was quickly resurfacing. "I'm your little slut. Emily's little slut." I kicked myself mentally, but I was also proud to have rectified that when so distracted. "I'm Emily's dirty little whore, I'm so horny, I want to come, please..." My eyes started to close as I approached orgasm.

"Look at me!" Emily snapped forcefully. I did, hand frozen mid-stroke in surprise. She stood on the other side of the glass door as I now faced her, dick in hand still on my knees and somewhat hunched over in the passion of my business.

She squatted down to a little more than my height. "Look at me when you come. Say my name. Repeat it."

And so I did. I pumped furiously, moaning her name. "Emily...Emily...Fuck, please, Emily..." My eyes began closing again, involuntarily, but I consciously kept them open, relishing the dreamy sight in front of me. Her sculpted face and clear skin, piercing eyes, balayaged hair, and a figure to die for. Soft and sweet at the right times, firm and resolute in others. Full breasts, belying so much to thirst for, with a narrow waist, widening at the right points, toned legs and pedicured toenails.

She was so perfect.

"Emily!" I let out a final moan as I came onto her in my fantasy. The shower door distinguished it from reality though, and my overdue ejaculate slowly slid down it again, revealing Emily.

Not once had she stopped watching me. At last she stood up, clasping her hands behind her waist.

"Well? Satisfied?" Emily asked, undoubtedly knowing the answer - yes, but there was still so much to be desired.

"Yes, Mistress. Thank you. Thank you for indulging me." I meant it, but I'm sure she too knew the extents of my desires.

"Keep behaving, and maybe you'll be granted more. Wash up." I began the shower, naturally taking care to remove traces of whatever had transpired there, waiting, as I sensed she had more to say.

"Do you remember the professor's final question today?" This felt like a test of sorts. Where was she going?

I wavered. "Yes? About our favorite scientists?"

Emily grinned, eyes twinkling, and it scared me - but also thrilled me. "Do you know mine?" I shook my head, feeling a monologue approaching, not wanting to perturb what felt like an important delivery.

"Have you ever heard of Igor Pavlov?" I again shook my head, although I had undoubtedly heard the name. I probably wasn't learned to the degree she meant.

"He was famous for experiments involving expectation and satisfaction. Pavlov was the one who taught dogs to associate mealtime with a bell, by repeatedly presenting the stimuli together, until the bell had, in the dogs' mind, formed a neurological connection with feeding strong enough that the sound of it would induce salivation." Emily paused, deliberately, and I recognized that there was some teaching, something to infer from this all. Fortunately, she seemed inclined to explain.

"You are going to be my little dog. Pavlov's dogs, and my you." Emily leaned forward, and for once, my gaze did not falter, as I internalized what she said.

"You will not come without saying my name. You will not see me without getting hard. I'm going to be your stimulus. I want you to see me, and be crazed for sex. I want you to hear my name, and lust for me so dearly you start jerking off immediately." Emily grinned, eyes gleaming with devilish glee. "It'll take a while. Maybe I won't let you come for a while, and have you moan at the slightest graze to your dick. Maybe I'll make you come every day until you break, having you orgasm until ecstasy isn't a feeling, it's a norm. Maybe I'll do both, maybe neither."

"Well, aren't you excited?"