Page 34 of The Roommate Subtext

I like it, she replied. It feels like I’m going to show someone. Like I’m anticipating.

His thoughts rolled on ahead, an idea spooling out in front of him. Kneel on your bed with your knees spread. Imagine that I’m watching you.

OK. I’m doing it.

He closed his eyes to picture the whole scene, then opened them to type. I’m sitting in a chair in the corner. I’m wearing a suit. I’ve called you here to put on a good show for me.

What would you like me to do?

So many things. I’d like you to untie those ribbons over your nipples. Put your hands behind your head and open your elbows out so I can inspect you. Hold like that for a minute before you check the phone again.

Yes, sir.

Somewhere, she was obeying, exposing herself for anyone to see, for him to see. Soon, she would start to feel vulnerable. Sometimes wearing the right kind of clothing made a person feel more naked than wearing nothing at all.

Rub your clit for me, nice and slow, until you reach the edge. Look at the corner and imagine me sitting there, watching you.

He stripped off his clothes and sat naked on the bed, finally taking his cock in hand, breath already shaky. He had to take his time, but he never wanted to take his time.

Yes, sir, she replied.

He hadn’t been sure how much he’d like doing this all via text. He’d flirted with partners on the phone before, but all his actual kink play had been in person: first watching at events, then participating, topping for impact and bondage play. Looking back, though, he’d always loved the verbal component. He loved gently stroking a woman’s back while she was bound to a spanking bench, whispering what he was going to do to her. He loved hearing his play partners confess their fantasies. He loved writing erotic stories. So even though he couldn’t see Rose right now, he loved this as well.

I’m on the edge, she typed.

Stop.

I knew you were gonna say that.

He smiled. Do you like some humiliation?

It depends, she wrote back. Maybe.

I’ll tell you what I want you to do, and you can tell me if it’s too far or not.

OK. He could almost hear the hesitation in that word.

I want you to turn around and put your shoulders on the mattress, ass up toward that corner where I’m watching you. And I want you to use that bullet vibe on your clit until I let you stop. Can you do that for me?

Fuck, she replied. Yes, I can do that.

He stroked his cock again, long, slow strokes in between typing. Good girl, Rose. Put the phone where you can see it. Don’t you dare come.

Yes, sir, she typed. He had forgotten what a turn-on it was to be called sir, to help someone fall into that headspace. He left the phone for a moment, enjoying his own slow build of pleasure, the climax hovering out of reach that he wasn’t going to chase down yet. Then he messaged her again.

This would be my nightly ritual for you, he said. I’d have you put on something sexy and tease yourself while I stroke my cock. He sent the first message, then kept typing, let the fantasy keep spilling out. Maybe I’d climb on that bed with you and fuck you until I came. Imagine what it would be like, to be on the edge and denied, feeling me come inside you.

You’re driving me crazy, she typed. I keep having to pull the vibe away so I don’t come.

He was driving himself crazy, too. You’re being so good.

She typed back, sentences coming one at a time.

Your cock would feel so good in me. I’d be close to coming, and you would stop me before I could. Hold me down on the bed.

He had to slow down, too, or he’d come too quickly. He stopped to type.

Holding your wrists down on the bed, next to your shoulders. Using you for my own pleasure.