When Meghan moved in, Lydia hoped she wasn’t gonna be stuck up like some of her other roommates.

Lydia never bothered with panties anymore.

There was this narrow hall in the center of their apartment. The front door was there, their bedrooms opposite, and then the kitchen and living room were at opposite ends. It wasn’t very convenient, but the rent was good, with two of them to pay it.

Meghan would often test to see if Lydia was wet. Lydia rarely failed those tests anymore, either.

The first thing Lydia noticed was, Meghan would brush by her when they passed in the hall, would brush against her arm or her hip or her butt or her breast, and she’d lock eyes with Lydia the entire time. Those moments seemed to last for hours.

Since Meghan taught her the pose, Lydia couldn’t help locking her arms against the wall and arching her back whenever her roomie leaned close and growled, “Present.”

It hadn’t taken long for that smouldering gaze and those little touches in the hallway to wriggle into Lydia’s dreams. And into the movies she played in her head before she fell asleep, thighs squeezed tight around her spare pillow, humping helplessly.

Meghan would just tug Lydia’s tights down and squeeze her ass, then tease her dripping cunt for as long as she wanted. Lydia couldn’t move, she wasn’t even allowed to moan, which was the hardest part. In her head she just chanted the litany Meghan taught her: “Must present for Mistress, must present for Mistress, must present for Mistress, must…”

She hadn’t really thought Meghan could hear her. Or maybe she… maybe she wanted her to. Maybe it got her off even harder imagining her roommate naked and aroused next door, somehow knowing Lydia was fantasising about her. About being taken by her, being fucked by her, being owned by her. Despite the hungry way Meghan stared her down in the hall, she couldn’t actually know what was on Lydia’s mind.

Meghan bit her pet’s earlobe so hard as she slid her fingers in, it was all Lydia could do not to scream. But she wasn’t allowed to make a sound, not until she was given permission. “Who does your pretty little pussy belong to, sweetie?” The sound of her Mistress’s sultry voice made Lydia juice around her teasing fingers.

The first time, Meghan had pressed Lydia firmly against the wall, facing her. She’d gently tilted the blushing woman’s chin up, forcing Lydia to meet her eyes. They’d spent that night in Meghan’s room.

Now Lydia’s mind flooded with relief as she answered Meghan’s question, struggling to make words around gasps of pleasure. “You, Mistress, my pussy belongs to you!”

Meghan took Lydia’s earlobe between her lips again, this time suckling it, gently. “That’s right,” she said. “Such a good girl.” She ran her hands up Lydia’s trembling body, along her arms, until their fingers interlocked against the wall. Meghan’s lips traced Lydia’s jaw slowly, until she found her pet’s mouth, and they kissed.