The Sun in Her Sky Ch. 02

My girl kneeling on the floor, sucking my dirty toe was the hottest thing I'd ever experienced, combining sexual promise, the thrill of power and dominance, and the certainty that if she would go this far, she could be trained to go much, much further.

And it's not like my feet were filthy - I'd showered just over an hour ago. But I'd been walking barefoot through my apartment since then. And Becca knew it.

I moaned just loudly enough that she could hear me. It was all the encouragement she needed to intensify her efforts, bathing my big toe with her mouth, then licking between my toes. She gave a moan of her own and I couldn't tell if it was genuine or for show. Her breathing came a little faster as her tongue worked eagerly.

I flexed my ankle, curling my toes up and presenting the sole of my foot to her lips. There was no hesitation now; she licked the bottom of my foot eagerly, then kissed my heel, then opened her lips wide to take as much of it inside her as she could manage. It tickled, and sent warm, erotic shivers up the insides of my legs. Her eyes, still locked on mine, looked bright and lusty. When my right foot was shiny with her saliva she moved to the left foot without pausing.

She was making me feel so horny, so powerful, I figured a little praise was warranted.

"Feels great," I whispered.

"Mmm. For me too. I love your feet." Her tone and her eyes corroborated her words.

"You love licking my feet?" I said, raising one eyebrow, my voice a gentle tease, a sure sign that Angry Gwen had gone away.

"Oh, yes."

"Say it."

"I love licking your feet," she breathed, running her hot tongue over my heel and up along the sole.

"I could get used to this."

"Any time. Just ask," she said with a sexy wink.

"Count on it."

A few minutes later she'd finished my left foot and sat back on her heels again.

"Feet feel better now? Or should I start again at the beginning?" she asked, in a tone that suggested she'd be happy to do it if asked. My 'good girl' was back.

I slid forward until I was sitting on the end of the bed, looking down at her as she knelt in front of me. She stared attentively back. I took my time deciding on my next move. Angry Gwen was done for the night, but that didn't mean I needed to be too nice, either.

I gently pushed a lock of her long, gorgeous, black hair away from her face. I made a mental note to buy a brush at the next opportunity. For now, I decided to satisfy my curiosity about the state of her underwear, or perhaps lack of.

"Are you wet?" I asked in a soft voice. Kind Gwen had come out, for a few minutes, anyway.

She nodded, her expression nakedly eager.

"Just a little?"

She shook her head. Her face went a deeper pink.

"You really DID like my feet."

"Yeah."

"We'll explore that a lot more, later."

"So...I can stay?" A shadow of concern clouded her expression.

I narrowed my eyes and hardened my tone. "Does that mean you didn't really love my feet? You just pretended so you could stay?"

"What? No, no! I love licking them," she said, her voice hushed but earnest.

"Show me. Let's see how wet that sweet pussy is."

She immediately stood and hiked her jean skirt up to her waist. Underneath was the indigo G-string thong I'd given her as a so-called Christmas gift. She was pushing all my buttons. It looked fantastic on her - I fell in love with it a little more each time I saw her in it. As I admired the way it clung to her labia, I caught a telltale whiff of arousal. She'd been telling the truth about my feet after all. Dirty girl!

I touched her pussy through the thong, then eased the fabric aside and slid my fingers through the gooey, warm wetness between her lips. When Becca got wet, she absolutely soaked herself. It was glorious. She exhaled sharply as I made a few passes over her engorged clit.

Then I drew back, put her thong back into place and wiped my fingers on her skirt.

"Okay, you're off the hook, this time," I said with a small grin, a grudging admission I'd been wrong to accuse her.

She knelt again. The change in her demeanor was remarkable; with Angry Gwen gone, Becca was happy and even bubbly, though still eager to please.

"You know I'd never lie to you about stuff like that," she said.

"Never hurts to check. Keeps you honest."

"You can check any time."

I stroked her cheek with the back of my fingers, a tender, even loving touch. She sighed and pushed her cheek into my caress.

"You can stay, but there are rules. And no bullshit, if you can't follow these, you're out. After what happened before exams, you're on thin ice already." My voice was no-nonsense but my fingers stayed gentle against her cheek.

"Sure, anything. I'll always follow your rules."

I locked her eyes with mine. I wanted it to be clear I was serious.

"First rule, you can't leave unless I say it's okay. If the landlord sees you, you're out on your ass. And he's friends with all the neighbors, so they might tip him off if they see you in and out."

She nodded slowly as the reality of her situation began to dawn on her. In truth, I'd never seen the landlord chatting with any of the neighbors, but Becca didn't know that.

"Is that a 'yes' or 'no'?" I prompted.

"Yes."

"Say it."

"The first rule is I can't leave unless you say it's okay."

"Good girl," I gave her a warm smile, which she returned enthusiastically. She'd always been a little starved for praise. "I already told you about being quiet. You have to speak in a whisper or they'll hear you through the walls or ducts. And when I'm out you have to be even MORE quiet - no using the shower or flushing the toilet, no rattling dishes in the kitchen, no running the microwave, no bumping or banging the walls. If my landlords hear any noise while I'm out, it'll be a dead giveaway. Do you get it?"

"Yes," she whispered. "Complete silence, especially when you're out."

I ran my fingers through her hair affectionately as I debated adding a third rule. I decided to go for it. What's the point of leverage if you're not going to use it?

"And the last rule - for now. I want you naked. All the time. I like the idea of having something pretty to look at when I'm at home. Plus, less laundry that way."

She looked shocked. "All day? Even when you're not here?"

I nodded and grinned. "Every single second of the day. No exceptions, unless I pick something for you to wear."

"But...it's kind of cold in here - not that I'm complaining," she added quickly.

"It's normal room temperature. The floors are a little colder because of the concrete."

"Maybe a nightshirt or something, just when you're not here?"

I loved that she considered it a forgone conclusion she'd be naked when I was present! I grabbed her left earlobe firmly between my thumb and forefinger and leaned down to whisper directly into her ear.

"Repeat after me. 'I, Rebecca Maple'."

"I, Rebecca Maple..."

"Will spend every second of every day completely naked..."

She gave a resigned sigh. "...Will spend every second of every day completely naked..."

"Because I want to be a good girl for miss Gwen Bailey." I decided to slip the 'miss' in there to see if she'd stumble over it.

"...Because I want to be a good girl for miss Gwen Bailey," she finished.

"Again," I said, squeezing her earlobe harder to keep her focused.

"Ow! Um...I, Rebecca Maple will spend every second of the day naked because I'm a good girl for miss Gwen Bailey."

Mmm. Not perfect, but somehow even better than the original!

"Is that clear?" I asked, hot breath in her ear.

"Yes, clear."

"Then why aren't you naked?" I asked, ending my question by licking the shell of her ear, drawing a delighted gasp.

She quickly rose and pulled her t-shirt over her head, then wriggled out of her skirt and thong. She hadn't changed a bit in three months - still toned, supple, sexy...and mine.

I gathered her clothes from the floor and threw them in my hamper. She'd never need them again. Well...maybe the thong.

"Ankles," I said.

She stood and faced away from me as I sat back on the end of the mattress, then she bent at the waist with her legs straight, and clutched her ankles. That strength and flexibility she'd developed in volleyball hadn't atrophied much, by the look of it.

And in front of me was the sight I figured was lost to me forever - her pale, toned ass, eagerly presented for my attention, with her smooth, thick labia pouting at me from between her thighs.

And her scent, already strong. I inhaled slowly through my nose, savouring the sweetness. She was like one of Pavlov's dogs - bend her over and her pussy drools. And her conditioning had survived a three-month absence!

"How does it feel to be back in your favourite position?"

"Ohhh...I can't wait. I missed you so much."

I drew back and gave her ass a swat and enjoyed the way her firm buttock rippled under the blow. I couldn't make too much noise, but I figured a few spanks would put her in her place and remind her of the pre-orgasm ritual we'd developed in high school.

"Mmm. One, miss Bailey. Thank you," she whispered, without missing a beat.

I smacked her other cheek, just a little harder.

"Two, miss Bailey. Thank you."

Out of concern for the noise, I stopped after six whacks. Even if my landlords overheard what I was doing, I figured they wouldn't guess what was happening. Still, I didn't want any trouble so early in my lease.

I reached forward and took her thick, slippery labia between my fingers, then pinched down hard enough to hurt a little bit. She gasped at the sudden pain, but didn't break position or make any sound. So well-trained!

"Did anyone else use this while you were in Phoenix?" I asked, pinching harder and giving her pussy lip a little tug.

"Ahhh...no, nobody. You're the only one," she said without delay, hoping to alleviate my grip on her most tender parts.

"Uh-huh. And what about you? Did you get your eager little fingers in here?"

There was a moment's pause. "Just...just twice."

"Only twice?" Twice in three months sounded almost puritan, especially for my girl who could barely go three weeks without a climax during her final semester of high school.

"Things were really bad...so I was never in a sexy mood. Plus...it didn't feel the same as when you do it."

"Still, what did we agree about you touching yourself?"

"That...I wouldn't do it."

"Who touches this sweet pussy?"

"Only you. But...I figured...we were apart, right? So..."

I eased up on my grip and she sighed her relief.

"But we're not apart anymore," I said. I eased my fingers between her dripping folds until I found her clit, then teased it in slow, light circles.

"I know. I'm so happy. It's literally my dream come true."

"Don't get ahead of yourself. I'm dead serious about those rules," I said, admonishing even as I increased the pressure with my fingers, driving her arousal higher. She was already soaking my palm with her juices. My girl was a faucet!

"Mmm. Yeah, I know. I promise to follow them."

"Don't make me regret letting you in the door."

"Oh...I'll make you...so happy...I promise..." she whispered amid harsh breathing. She deepened her bend and pushed her sopping pussy back towards me. I obliged by working her clit faster, in tighter circles.

"When was your last treat?" I asked.

"Um...I think...early August?" I could tell by her laboured breathing and the way her buttocks were squeezing and releasing involuntarily that she was right on the edge.

"I'm...gonna...come," she whispered.

"Welcome to your new home," I said, as pure pleasure broke over her.

*

The next two weeks brought changes and challenges to my girl, and to me as well.

The requirement for silence turned out to be tricky. It's harder than you might think to make NO noise. Imagine living your life in such a way that the person in the adjoining room doesn't know you're there - especially when the consequences for discovery were literally life-altering. That was Becca's new reality.

Eating became an adventure. When I wasn't around, Becca found her diet limited to "foods that don't make any sound". That eliminated anything with plastic or foil packaging, anything that required a microwave, anything that involved the clattering of plates or cutlery, chopping or mixing, or anything that involved running the water. Her daytime menu consisted of grapes, plums, peanut-butter sandwiches and the like. I'd fill a large water bottle for her before I left for class, and I made sure her breakfast and dinner were substantial to compensate.

And then there was peeing. Have you ever tried to pee in a way that makes no sound? The first morning I was at class, Becca said she went to the toilet and her stream made so much noise in the quiet bathroom she had to 'suspend operations' while she found a quieter solution. Luckily my girl was resourceful.

"You peed in the bathtub?"

Red-faced, she nodded. I smiled at her embarrassment.

"Show me," I said.

"What?" Her voice was a perpetual whisper.

I was already walking toward the bathroom. I was in my usual home-wear - barefoot in track pants and a t-shirt, while Becca was blissfully naked.

"I want to see it."

She caught up with me in the bathroom. "I don't have to go right now."

"But you can go a little bit, just to show me, right?"

"Why do you want to see something like that?"

In truth, I didn't think I'd enjoy watching her relieve herself. But I wanted her to understand there was no part of her life I didn't control. I wasn't going to come right out and say that, of course. Too aggressive, too soon. She'd figure it out eventually, one lesson at a time.

I gestured to the bathtub, then looked down into her eyes. "I want to know if it's quiet enough."

A few moments passed before she sighed and dropped her gaze, then climbed into the tub. I sat down on the edge.

She crouched on her toes in the middle of the basin with her bum pointed at the drain and put her hands on the sides of the tub to steady herself. "I can't pee directly into the drain or it makes a lot of noise. I have to pee in the tub and let it trickle down," she explained, somehow growing redder.

"Okay," I said.

"Do you...still want to see it?"

I nodded and winked at her. She lowered her head and let out a slow breath, trying to relax enough to start the flow. Apparently it was hard to do with someone looking down at you. It was almost a full minute before I could hear a faint hiss and, a few seconds later, a muted gurgle from the drain and telltale smell.

I reached down, cupped her chin and tilted her face up to look me in the eyes. It's hard to explain it, but there was something powerful and intimate about looking deep into her brown eyes as she emptied her bladder. I felt a strong sense of ownership at that moment, like I possessed not only her emotions and psyche, but had claimed her at a biological level too. It was a profound moment.

I think it affected Becca deeply, too, because from that point on, whenever I was home, she made a point of announcing it whenever she was going to pee. An embarrassing invitation, and one I rarely refused. She peed in the tub even when I was home and there was no need to do it silently. A weird but undeniably meaningful ritual. She never once managed to do it without blushing, which was one of my favourite things about it.

Silence aside, my 'nudity' rule for her, which I'd issued mostly on a whim, affected her behaviour in a big way - it kept her in bed for most of the day, under the sheets, where it was warmer. I didn't find the apartment cool, but I'd always been warm-blooded. Becca said she found it a little chilly - she was careful not to phrase it as a complaint, mind you - and she especially didn't like putting her warm, bare feet on the cold floor.

My enduring memory of Becca from those weeks and months in the apartment is of her in the centre of the bed, naked and tousled, tangled in bedsheets or burrowed under a down duvet. If I beckoned to her, she'd attend to me immediately and without objection, but as soon as she'd satisfied whatever need or desire I'd summoned her for, she'd return to the bed and submerge herself in its soft warmth. In theory she had free run of the apartment, but she spent almost all of her time confined in the double bed, of her own volition.

I could tell the prolonged stretches of solitude and silence were having an effect on her too.

I usually woke at six and left the apartment before eight in the morning, and most days it was after six in the evening when I returned - sometimes later if I went out for dinner or drinks with the volleyball girls or other classmates. The sun set around seven in early October, so often I was arriving after dark. Then I had homework that took up an hour or two, and I liked to be in bed before eleven.

So my time with Becca on weekdays amounted to a couple of hours in the morning and maybe a couple of hours in the evening. I really made her my focus during those hours, and after the first few days I noticed her attentiveness towards me had intensified. At first I figured it was because she was desperate for dinner, but even after I'd cooked for her - or brought restaurant take out - she seemed hungry for my touch and closeness. She was quicker to accommodate my asks and whims. And her beautiful, brown eyes never seemed to leave me.

I enjoyed my position of enhanced importance in her life - it was what I'd wanted from the start: to be the sun in her sky, the centre of her universe. I wasn't there yet, but it was easy to see I was on the right track.

Weekends were better - I had more time to spend enjoying her, training her, shaping her to my preferences. Sundays mornings were the best of all; my landlords went to church and more noise was allowable. If my girl needed a spanking, Sunday morning was when it would happen!

But I also faced a major challenge - her cell phone.

She didn't have a data plan - after leaving the States she didn't have the money to get a Canadian one - and more and more she was begging to know the wifi password for my modem so she could connect to the internet on her phone. After all, she was home alone all day with no TV, radio or other diversions - a cell phone would help her pass the ten-plus hours she was alone and silent every day.

And that wasn't something I wanted. I liked it the way it was, with her isolated, penniless, dependent on me for everything and receptive to my influence. With an internet connection, she could hunt for a job. She could connect to other people on social media. Even more concerning, her mom could potentially steal her out from under my nose again with a single plaintive email.

For my future with Becca to unfold the way I wanted, for her to become what I wished her to be, an unrestricted internet connection was an impossibility.

I put a lot of thought into how I would separate her from her phone.

I could have just taken it away from her, of course. She'd whine and resent it, but ultimately she'd have to accept it or leave and she'd probably choose to accept it. Probably. It wasn't a sure bet. I had leverage over her, yes, but my control was still mostly derived from emotion: her warm, loving feelings for me, her desperate insecurity and fawning need for my approval, her craving for a 'mother' in her life, and her unwillingness to risk conflict with Angry Gwen. For best results, I needed to nurture those emotions.

For the same reason, I couldn't just smash the phone or unreasonably deny her my wifi password for much longer.

After days of turning it over in my mind, I realized I didn't need to separate her from her phone; I just needed to closely control her access to it, and to the internet. I began to plot how I would do that.

*

It was a Saturday night in early October, a little over two weeks since Becca had moved in. A cold, driving rain outside had been the only excuse I needed to stay indoors most of the day and study. My girl had spent the day alternately dozing and flipping disinterestedly through an Introductory Marketing textbook. I'd cooked the dinner - a not-too-bad omelet and toast. After dinner we'd propped ourselves up side by side on the bed and streamed a movie on my laptop. Becca had spent the whole movie snuggled against me, idly stroking my arm. To an outside observer, we looked like young lovers.