It was an unseasonably warm day for late March–a herald of the coming Spring. Sam was stuck after school painting the set of the spring play, and Jack had already finished all his homework while waiting for her, so now he was shooting some hoops in the court behind the school. A patch of crocuses huddled defiantly at the edge of the court beneath the hoop, daring the ball to come and crush them. Idly, Jack tossed the ball from center court with one hand and watched as it rebounded off the backboard and bounced behind him. He turned and jogged after it, only to see a familiar head of pink hair watching him.

“I was always terrible at basketball,” Xena said, smiling. She wore a plunging black v-neck that showed off a generous portion of cleavage, with a gingham skirt and fishnet stockings. Jack wondered if Holden or Xena had picked those clothes out. “My hand-eye coordination is terrible.”

“When’s the last time you played?” Jack asked, dribbling the ball a bit before jogging a few long strides, leaping up, and dunking the ball in the hoop nearest Xena. The net made a satisfying swish-thrum as the ball went through.

“Oh, gosh. Maybe gym class in middle school? I’m not sure.”

“Why don’t you give it a try now?” Jack tossed the ball over, and Xena caught it. “Here, I’ll show you. Stand over here.” Xena moved to where Jack pointed. “Bend your knees. Keep your eyes on where you want the ball to go. Hands like this.” Jack showed her where to position her hands. “Then, when you’re ready, use your whole body to throw. Extend your legs and arms at the same time. That’s it!”

Xena threw the basketball, following Jack’s guidance. It hit the rim and bounced away. Jack ran to retrieve it. “Not bad! You’re a bit stiff, and you lack confidence. But you’d get it with some practice.”

“That was already better than I’ve ever done before. Usually, it just sails right under,” Xena laughed. She sat down on a courtside bench, crossing her legs and smoothing out her skirt. Jack sat next to her, putting the ball in the grass. “You know, Holden’s worried about you.”

“Why?”

“He thinks Sam might be taking advantage of you.”

Jack couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh yeah, she totally is.”

“Does that bother you?”

Jack stared past the court, over the field, and into the clouds that caressed the horizon. “No one wants to be bossed around.”

Xena giggled. “Loads of people do. I do.”

“Well, I can’t. Don’t,” Jack corrected himself. “I don’t like following Sam’s orders.”

Xena smiled a knowing smile, and continued to watch Jack even as he refused to meet her gaze. “Why not?”

“You wouldn’t understand. It’s a guy thing.” He paused, and when Xena didn’t say anything, he continued. “Men aren’t supposed to be followers. They’re supposed to be leaders. Dominant. Decisive. Alpha. It’s–it’s what I’ve always strived to be. And it’s fucking hard, but I have to do it. Because I want to be a great man.”

“What does being a great man mean to you?”

“Making lots of money. Having lots of bi–women. Being respected by other great men.” Now that Jack was saying it out loud, it all felt so hollow. He knew it was because of Sam’s interference, and that he should want these things. But it was becoming increasingly hard to force.

“Do you think Sam doesn’t see you as a man?”

Jack thought back, to the way Sam’s gaze lingered on his body when he tried on the new clothes they’d bought him, to how she’d idly play with his hair or trace her fingers along his collar, to the moments of lost time he exited feeling confused and horny, with no memory of how he’d gotten that way. “...I don’t know.”

“Have you fucked yet?” Xena asked, idly swinging her legs.

Jack coughed. “N-no. Well, not that I can remember,” he amended. “I think she’s been…toying with me. I can vaguely tell she’s been changing my behavior, but I can’t pinpoint exactly what she’s messed with. And there are…chunks of time I can’t remember. Where afterwards I can tell she did–something–but I don’t know what.”

“How does that make you feel?”

“Mad.” Mad she doesn’t let me remember. “Confused.” Does she want me or not? “Frustrated.” Sexually.

“Then I think you should talk to her,” Xena said. “Tell her how you feel.” Sensing Jack’s doubt, she continued. “I’ll give you a hint: people like Holden and Sam like to feel powerful. If you want something from her, lean into that. Make her feel in control.” She tilted her head. “We may be bound to obey our masters, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have any power.”

“...Thank you,” Jack said, after a moment of silence.

“Don’t mention it,” Xena replied, smiling. “Us toys need to stick together.”

Jack took Xena’s advice to confront Sam later that evening. He entered their shared bedroom after washing the dishes from dinner (he'd made pulled pork quesadillas – one of Sam’s favorites from his ever growing personal cookbook) to find Sam listlessly revising an essay at her desk. He cleared his throat.

Sam swiveled around in her chair to face him. “What's up?”

“You’ve been…doing things to me,” Jack began. Internally, he cringed. He'd sounded so much more assertive in his mental rehearsals of this moment. Well, Xena did say to play into that power dynamic, he rationalized. Maybe acting pathetic here will work out in my favor.

Sam cocked her head to one side. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb.” Jack’s face burned. “You've been…teasing me. Sexually. And making me forget about it.” He took a deep breath. “There’s been a couple instances where I wake up with lost time. Like a skip in a tape. And when I come to, I'm all… w-worked up. It has to be your fault.”

Sam crossed her arms and smirked. “Oh, really? And what sorts of things do you think I've been doing to you?”

“I don't know!” Jack snapped. “I can't get inside your twisted little head. You've probably been…turning me into a dumb, docile slut before having your way with me, or forcing me to pleasure you for hours with my head between your legs, or using me l-like a human sex doll to position and fuck however you like, or–or–some other perverted nonsense.” He paused, breathing heavily. Was it hotter in here all of a sudden?

Sam laughed, actually laughed, the sadistic bastard. “Do you really want to know? All the dirty, perverted, deviant ways I've been using your body?”

“Yes!” Jack said, grinding his teeth. “Obviously! I want to know!”

“Then…remember,” she said, clicking her fingers.

And Jack did.

“...Oh,” he said. “...That's it?” His face flushed even brighter red. Why was he disappointed?

“The handjob in the library is the most I've done,” Sam confessed. “That, plus changing the way you dress and adding a couple unconscious habits.”

Jack remembered something else, and shuddered in embarrassment. “Oh my god. When you gave me my collar, I…”

Sam stared at him, intensely. “Do you still feel that way? About enjoying my control? Because if so, I'll keep going.” She stood and sauntered over before reaching out and cupping his cheek in her hand. “I’ll rummage around in your head… find allllll your weak points… use you for my own gratification… but if you don't, I'll stop. I don't want to, but I will.”

Jack balled his fists, his feet rooted to the ground. Despite himself, he wanted to lean into her touch so badly it hurt. “... Can't you make me say it?”

“Just this once, I need you to make this choice on your own,” she said, her mouth quirking into a smile. “And then you can go back to fighting me and pretending you hate me.”

“...I want you to take me,” he said, after a long silence. “I want you to use me. I want to submit to you. Please,” he begged. “Please fuck me. I want it. I want to be your obedient little plaything. Please–”

Sam snapped her fingers. “On your knees.”

Jack’s legs gave out from under him and he sank to the floor.

“Such a good boy,” she breathed, and Jack looked up to see a desperate hunger roaring behind her eyes. Hunger for him, he realized. Hunger for his submission, his obedience. His defeat. She wanted this more than anything, and that lit a fire of arousal inside him, his submissive self preening at being desired, valued. “God. I fucking love seeing you like this,” Sam said, grabbing his collar with her other hand and tugging him forward, causing him to stumble. “So needy. So helpless. Suck,” she commanded, jamming her thumb in his mouth. Automatically, he obeyed, wrapping his lips wrapped around his master’s finger and sucking. “You'd do anything I ask, wouldn’t you? And you'd fucking love it. Say it. Say you love obeying me.”

“I love obeying you,” he mumbled, around Sam’s thumb.

“Again.”

“I love obeying you!”

“Good boy. Clothes off, then back on your knees,” she said, yanking her thumb out of his mouth, a trail of saliva following in its wake. He scrambled to comply, and soon he was kneeling, naked and hard, on the bedroom floor. “Look at me.”

His gaze flicked up to her. She stood clothed and imposing, while he was knelt naked and obsequient. His erection was tangential to the curve of his spine, vulnerable in its exposure, a white flag of surrender. The sweet relief of submission unspooled within him, and with it came the warm of pleasure. He wanted this. He wanted this for longer than he was willing to admit, perhaps even before being claimed.

“Fuck, you're already hard, just from obeying me?” Sam said, her voice low and husky with need. “God, that's so fucking hot. Jesus.” Jack could only whine in response. “Watch me,” she commanded, taking a step back. “Watch me, and touch yourself.” Jack wrapped his hand around his cock, shuddering in pleasure and anticipation.

Sam hooked her fingers around the hem of her paint-stained turtleneck and drew it up and over her head. Her dark hair spilled out of the neck and fanned across her back, just above the strap of her bra. Jack's hand began to move faster. Smiling, she swayed her hips back and forth, before slowly, agonizingly, lowering her jeans. She kicked them to the side and stood with her hands on her hips, wearing nothing but a white bralette and silky red panties. Jack had watched a lot of porn, and thought himself above being titillated by something as vanilla as a striptease, but shit, this was the hottest thing he'd ever seen. He let out a strangled moan as he pumped his fist even faster.

“Fuck, your cock looks so fucking good in your hand,” Sam breathed, brushing her hand down to her panties and beginning to rub lazy circles over her clit. Jack’s eyes locked on to that motion, zeroing in on his master's pleasure. “You're really that turned on, just from this? I haven't even touched you yet.” He nodded, whining and bucking into his hand. “Fuck, that's hot. You're just a needy little slut for me, aren't you? So desperate to be broken and commanded.”

“Uh-huh!” he moaned.

“A cute, obedient fucktoy for me to play with. My horny pet boy, too dumb and submissive to make your own decisions. Isn't that right?”

“Mmm hm!”

She moved to him and grabbed him by the hair. “Who do you belong to? Say it. Tell me.”

“You!” Jack cried out. “You, Master!”

Sam froze, and blinked. Jack realized what he'd said, and his face burned. “I-I could call you Mistress if you prefer,” he offered, shyly. “O-or I could just call you nothing at all–”

“Bed. Now,” Sam growled, giving only a millisecond of warning before yanking him by the hair and dragging him onto the mattress. Jack let out a squeak of surprise before he was silenced by Sam’s mouth against his, folding before an onslaught of kisses and bites. She paused only to remove the last of her underwear before diving back in, giving Jack only a moment to appreciate the sight of her small bare breasts before pressing them back against his chest. He could feel her wetness as she grinded against him, his hardness sliding between her labia–oh, god, he wanted to be inside her so badly, but he wouldn't, couldn't, until she said so–

“Condom,” Sam broke in, panting. “In the side table. Second drawer.”

Before being claimed, Jack had been the type of guy to whine and complain when asked to wrap up. Now, he couldn't get it on fast enough. “You just…had those?”

“W-well, I wasn't sure we'd use them,” Sam said, turning red and smoothing back her hair. “But I thought there was a chance, so…it's good that I did!” She shook her head and took off her glasses, setting them on the side table. Then she lay back on the bed with her arms and legs spread, lounging with the easy confidence of Venus in repose. “And now, you're going to fuck me,” she said, with a smirk. Jack nearly came then and there.

Jack positioned himself at her entrance, and slowly, Sam guided him into her. She was so warm and so tight, Jack had to fight every impulse to slam into her and hammer away. Sam breathed out as she took him in, her muscles contracting and adjusting to his length inside her. When he was fully inside, Sam stopped him and held him there, allowing her body to get used to the sensation. The slowness was blissful torture for Jack–he was getting enough stimulation to stay hard, but only just, in an act of teasing denial Sam didn't even realize she was performing. The thought that Sam didn't care about his pleasure, and was singularly focused on using him for her own gratification, sent Jack even further down into his delicious spiral of submission, blanking out all thoughts besides I exist to please my master.

“Ok,” Sam breathed. “You can start moving, slow and shallow. Like this.” Her hand moved to his hip, and she guided his thrusts, teaching him how to properly fuck her. Jack let himself follow her touch, settling into a gentle rolling rhythm of pushing and pulling, dipping into her from the head of his cock up to the middle of his length and back again.

“That's it,” Sam sighed, closing her eyes as Jack mindlessly rocked into her. “Fuck, that's the spot. Right there. Ah…” She moaned and began to push into Jack’s thrusts, sending sparks of ecstasy down his spine. She began stroking her clit as he fucked her, finally losing some of her composure. “God–fuck, yes, keep going, just like that–such a good boy, such a good little fucktoy for me… ah… fuck, that's so good–fuck–yes, yes, yes, YES–”

The passage of time no longer held any meaning for Jack. His universe had shrunk to the size of a twin mattress, his limbs following fixed celestial orbits of fucking, in and out, up and down, cycling around and back again. He thought only of Sam, his master, and of worshipping her with his cock. He could have been fucking her for days, or maybe just minutes. But eventually–

“Cum with me,” she panted, her nails digging into his ribs, her pussy spasming around his cock. And Jack’s brain went supernova.

“Oof…Jack…I can’t breathe…”

Jack slowly returned to awareness and realized he had collapsed, trapping Sam under his full body weight. “Oh, shit, sorry,” he said, dazed, rolling to the side and lying next to her. His rapidly softening cock slid out of her, the condom’s tip heavy with semen. He pulled it off and threw it in the wastebasket.

“That was… so fucking good,” Sam said, running her fingers through Jack’s hair. He hummed in agreement. The duo cuddled in silence for a moment. Then, Sam said:

“Think you could get it up for another round?”

Jack’s immediate hard-on answered for him.