Obedience
1989 Words
Mister L: Have you ever touched yourself before?
What did he mean?
Aimee: Like... what kind of touch?
The reply came quickly.
Mister L: I mean in bed. Alone.
Still, her thoughts spun. She typed slowly.
Aimee: You mean like... touching my arms? Or my face? I don't get it.
A long pause.
No reply.
Then-
Mister L: God, you really are innocent.
She swallowed hard.
Aimee: Is that... bad?
Mister L: No. It's just... damn.
Mister L: Aimee, I'm talking about when you're alone. And your body feels warm. Curious. Needy. Have you ever felt that?
She stared at the screen, heart picking up speed.
Aimee: I think so? Sometimes at night my chest feels tight. Like... there's something I need, but I don't know what it is.
Mister L: That's it, baby.
Mister L: That's your body asking for touch. The kind that isn't just your arms or your face.
Aimee: Oh...
Mister L: Have you ever touched there? Between your legs.
Her eyes widened.
She felt the heat rise in her cheeks, burning now.
Aimee: No. I mean—I wash, of course. But not... like that.
Mister L: Not to feel good? Not to explore?
Aimee: No... I didn't know people did that.
Mister L: People do. A lot.
Mister L: And you should too. If—only if—you want.
She bit her lip.
Her body was already reacting. She didn't even realize her thighs had squeezed together.
There was a hum beneath her skin. A gentle ache that hadn't been there before. And now that it was... she couldn't ignore it.
Her fingers hovered above the screen.
Aimee: I don't know how.
Mister L: I can show you. Slowly. You don't have to be scared.
Mister L: Are you wearing anything right now?
Aimee: Just a shirt. And underwear.
Mister L: Are you laying down again?
Aimee: Yes.
Mister L: Then let's start small. Just touch yourself over your panties.
Her fingers hesitated.
She looked down at her lap. At the soft cotton stretched over skin that suddenly felt too sensitive. Too aware.
She wasn't sure if she could do this.
She wasn't sure why she wanted to.
What if she was doing it wrong? What if he could somehow tell?
But the thought of him-on the other side of the screen, waiting, listening-made her chest tighten in that same way it had last night.
She swallowed.
Then, quietly, her hand moved.
A tiny gasp slipped out when her hand brushed against the soft heat there.
Aimee: It feels... strange.
Mister L: Strange good or strange bad?
Aimee: Good. I think.
Mister L: That's your body waking up. Just rub a little. Slow circles.
She did.
Slowly.
And everything changed.
Her breathing deepened.
She had no idea something so simple could feel like this. Her body melted under her own touch in ways she couldn't explain. As if
her nerves had been sleeping this whole time-waiting for permission to exist.
Aimee: It's warm.
Mister L: It's yours. But tonight... it's mine.
The words undid her.
Completely.
She arched slightly, pressure building, lips parted in a breath she didn't know she was holding. Her fingers kept moving, like they
finally understood what they were meant for.
Her fingers moved in slow, shaky circles over the thin cotton of her underwear. It was new. Soft. Electric. Every small rub sent a ripple through her she didn't understand-but didn't want to stop.
Aimee: It feels weird.
Mister L: That's your body waking up to something it's craved without knowing.
Mister L: You're doing so good, Amie.
His words felt like a hand sliding up her spine. Gentle. Heavy.
And then-
Mister L: Go under the fabric.
Her fingers froze.
Eyes wide, she stared at the message.
She didn't reply.
Mister L: I want you to feel yourself. Skin to skin.
Her heart thudded.
The kind of thud that made her feel like she couldn't breathe right.
Aimee: I... I don't know.
Mister L: What's wrong, sweetheart?
Aimee: I'm scared.
Three dots blinked on the screen. Then-
Mister L: Of me?
Aimee: No...
Mister L: Then what are you scared of?
She swallowed.
Her fingers still hovered on the edge of her underwear.
Aimee: I've never done this. It feels like... if I do, I can't go back.
Mister L: You're right.
Mister L: You won't be the same.
Mister L: But you'll finally know how it feels to be wanted. To be touched. Even if it's just your hand right now... I'm the one guiding it. I'm the one making you feel this.
She felt her thighs tremble.
She wasn't cold.
She was burning.
Mister L: You can stop if you want. Lock your phone. Pretend none of this happened.
Pause.
Mister L: Or you can take your time. Slide your fingers down slowly. Learn how your body reacts to desire.
She blinked. Her chest rose and fell.
And then-
She moved her hand. Under the waistband. Down.
Her fingertips brushed against the softest heat she'd ever felt.
She gasped.
Not from pain—but from shock.
Her body welcomed the touch.
Like it had been waiting.
Aimee: It's... wet.
Mister L: That's because you want this. You want me.
Her breathing hitched. Eyes wide in the darkness, she tried to control the thumping in her chest.
Mister L: Now rub again. Very gently.
She obeyed.
And her hips jerked.
A sound escaped her—part sigh, part moan.
She clamped her hand over her mouth, wide-eyed.
Mister L: You made a sound, didn't you?
Aimee: ...yes.
Mister L: That's what I want. I want to make you cry for me, Aimee. With nothing but my words.
She moaned again—quieter this time. But she couldn't help it.
His control was total.
Every word. Every pause. Every little command felt like he was right there in the room, whispering in her ear.
Mister L: You're mine tonight.
Mister L: And I'm not done with you yet.
Her fingers were trembling now.
Beneath the blanket, under the cotton of her underwear, she touched parts of herself she'd never dared to explore. Every movement
made her breath catch, her legs shift, her mind spin.
It felt... forbidden.
But with him guiding her, it also felt safe.
Mister L: Go slow. Just circles. Don't rush it.
Aimee: It's tingly. And warm. I didn't know it could feel like this.
Mister L: That's just the beginning, sweetheart. Let it build.
She obeyed—biting her lip, eyes fluttering shut as her fingers moved again. The sensation deepened. Became needier.
She didn't know what she was chasing, but her body did. It arched without asking. It pulsed in waves.
Mister L: Are you still touching?
Aimee: Yes.
Mister L: Tell me what it feels like.
She hesitated. Then typed with shaking hands:
Aimee: Like I'm going to burst. Like I need something more but I don't know what it is.
Mister L: That's your body getting close. Let yourself fall into it.
Mister L: You're allowed to feel good, Aimee. You don't need to be quiet or ashamed. You're beautiful when you give in.
She gasped softly.
That word—beautiful—hit her harder than anything else.
She didn't know if it was the way he said it, or the way her fingers curled just right against the heat of her skin, but something was happening.
Her hips rolled gently. Her breath was uneven now.
Mister L: You're close, aren't you?
Aimee: I... I think so.
Mister L: Good girl. Keep going. Just like that.
Her stomach tightened. A sensation started building, fast and uncontrollable. Her back arched off the mattress, and she could barely
keep her legs from clenching together.
Mister L: Let it happen.
Mister L: Fall apart for me.
Her hand jerked one last time, and then—
It hit her.
Soft at first, then all-consuming.
Like heat crashing in waves. Her chest rose sharply, her lips parted, and a sound escaped her throat that she'd never heard from
Herself before.
A whimper. A whisper. A breaking point.
She buried her face into her pillow, riding it out as her entire body pulsed beneath the blankets. Breathless. Shaken. Quietly undone.
It took a while before she could even move.
When she finally picked up the phone again, her fingers were weak. Unsteady.
Aimee: I think... I just...
Mister L: You did.
A pause.
Mister L: I'm proud of you.
Her heart swelled at that. Not with romance. Not yet.
But with something equally dangerous.
Trust.
Aimee: I didn't know it could feel like that. I didn't know I could feel like that.
Mister L: You felt it because you let me guide you. Because you listened. And now? You'll never forget the first time.
Aimee stared at the ceiling.
It was morning.
Birds were chirping somewhere beyond her closed windows. The sun filtered through her curtains in soft, golden waves. Her blanket
had slipped halfway off the bed.
But she didn't move.
Because her body still remembered.
Her fingers curled slightly in the sheets, replaying the way they'd curled the night before-slowly, clumsily, then desperately. Her thighs brushed together with a quiet pressure she hadn't noticed before last night. Everything felt more sensitive.
Her cheeks burned just thinking about it.
And then her mind drifted-
To him.
His words. His voice, even if she'd never actually heard it.
The way he typed like he already knew her. The way he made her want to be touched, wanted, undone.
She rolled onto her side and pulled the blanket close to her chest.
God.
Was this what it felt like? To want someone who wasn't real?
Or maybe he was real—and that's what scared her the most.
The rest of the day passed like a half-finished sentence.
She helped her mom with breakfast. Folded laundry. Answered texts from her best friend-none of which made her feel anything.
But every moment alone, every quiet breath, every stretch of silence between small tasks, led her back to TapTalk. To that dark screen. To his words.
She didn't open the app all day.
But she stared at it.
Four times.
And by the time night crept in again, the ache was back.
She missed the way his messages made her pulse race. Missed the way her name looked when he typed it. Missed the feeling of
being completely known by someone she couldn't see.
So when the clock struck midnight, she turned off the lights, pulled the blanket up, and tapped the app with a shaky breath.
'Start.'
Loading...
A message blinked.
Mister L: I was wondering when you'd come back.
She smiled.
Aimee: Did you wait all day?
Mister L: No. Just all night.
Aimee: You sound tired.
Mister L: I'm not. Not when it comes to you.
Pause.
Mister L: How are you feeling?
She hesitated before answering.
Aimee: Like I'm not the same person anymore.
Mister L: You aren't.
Mister L: You're mine now.
The words struck something deep.
She wasn't sure what it was. But it made her inhale sharply.
Mister L: I want to hear you, Aimee.
Aimee: Hear me?
Mister L: Your voice. The way you breathe when I guide you. The way you whisper my name when you're trembling.
She blinked.
Then stared.
Her fingers hovered.
Aimee: I've never done anything like that. I don't know what to say.
Mister L: Say yes. That's all I need.
Her throat tightened.
She typed, then deleted. Then typed again.
Aimee: Yes.
A phone icon appeared on the screen.
And it rang once.
Twice.
Her hand shook as she hit "accept."
"Hello?" she whispered.
Then came his voice.
Deep. Calm.
Unshakable.
Like it had always been there, buried in the dark corners of her imagination, waiting to be real.
"Aimee," he said. "Are you ready to let me ruin you all over again?"
- Writer
