Chapter Text
At the age of 26, most of Osha’s peers hate their jobs. The monotony, the responsibility, the pressure- all valid reasons to crash out under the threatening realities of capitalism. To her immense pleasure, she simply cannot identify with their woes. Osha’s work is unconventional at best and blasphemous at worst. What started out as a temporary stopgap between semesters slash monetized hobby has flourished into Osha’s dream.
Maybe not her dream job necessarily, but a dream for sure.
There is something about Osha’s job that has her utterly obsessed, even entranced at certain moments. Whenever she takes a step back to admire her own handiwork, the thrill is instant and at times, severe. Osha tries her best to be tender, to put some affection in each little touch on his skin, as a thank you for his devotion. She’s so grateful for the gift of his submission but she just finds it so thrilling to…
Wreck him.
There’s really no other words for her process of pushing and using and dominating her roommate for thousands of viewers four pre-scheduled times each week. He’s a good boy, Qimir, her Stranger, so adamant to do the best he can— to listen to her instructions and do her bidding without a single objection. She is in love with the way he says “yes, Mistress” when she demands for him to keep going further and further until he’s whining, the sounds so strong when coming from the depths of his chest. She can feel the dedication radiating from him whenever she offers a command while they’re in the little filming studio they’ve made in their tiny third bedroom.
Yes, she tries to show some affection, some thanks when he’s tied, straight-backed and glazy-eyed. She’s intentional when she trails her fingers over the soft, sweaty skin on his back and neck as she repositions him; offers small words of encouragement into his ear when her back is turned on the camera.
”Thank you, my sweet boy.”
”Too tight or good enough, love?”
”You’re doing perfect for me, such a good boy.”
"Snap for me if you’re getting too close, baby, and I’ll slow down.”
When it’s showtime, she dons her royal purple robe and the handmade veil which delicately hides her face from the nose down. Qimir, the goodest boy, remains bare save for the rope she uses to expertly wrap and constrict him along with a three-quarter mask, hiding his eyes, nose, and cheekbones- only his mouth exposed so their viewers can hear every gasp and grunt and groan he blesses her with.
His face? That’s hers. One stipulation of this arrangement is no full face for either of them. She likes the anonymity and craves the ability to take off her mask and shed her responsibilities as the Domme when they’re finished.
(She’s also greedy, so wrongfully greedy, and never wants anyone else anywhere for any reason to see the face Qimir makes when he comes.)
The second stipulation Osha enforced when they began and is determined to stick to for simplicity in their particular arrangement is that all actions while they film are solely done to Qimir.
He does not get to touch, he does not get to lick or kiss or caress or utter any words other than “yes, Mistress” when directly addressed and “please, Mistress” when he’s desperate to finish. He comes plenty and often and Osha finds so much joy in just playing and playing and playing with him like the toy he declares himself to be. Osha is strict about the fact that he is not to act on her during their show. She loves Qimir’s vulnerability when he’s tied and denied and she’s terrified of what would come out of her if she were to allow him the opportunity to dictate their scenes.
For Qimir, this is a job. Not the cushiest job like some would assume, as he puts in hard work at the gym and does extensive research on equipment setups and possible scenes, their viewers’ demographics, and how to appeal to a more niche audience with deeper pockets. Their off days are spent workshopping new positions and ties, practicing for hours so their shows go smoothly. Qimir never mentions switching things up with Osha subbing nor does he suggest displaying any acts upon her.
He’s respectful like that.
They film for three hours at a time— three glorious hours of Osha constantly pushing Qimir to new limits— making a big show of tying up a man so much larger than her, manipulating his body to her whim, edging him until he starts releasing those guttural yet delicate whimpers that only occur after hours of constant stimulation, using any part of her body other than her mouth and pussy to coax her sweet boy into coming once more. At times, what Osha feels during their shows is so intense she has to physically cross the room and just allow herself to gaze at Qimir, wrapped up like her own personal work of sensual art, to prevent herself from breaking all of her self-imposed rules and devouring him whole.
Fuck, does she want to consume him totally and completely. She is aware she is thirsty, yet emotionally constipated enough to be terrified of making a move… And yes, she is also aware just how ridiculous it sounds to be afraid to make a move on someone you've been fucking every other day for years, even if it appears to be one-sided. It's obvious to anyone who is privy to their particular arrangement that Osha is horrified of the thought that she will mess their friendship and working partnership so badly it would be irrevocably wrecked.
She just can't stand the thought.
Osha loves the thrill and the sensation of his body wrapped in her ropes and silks so much it could be akin to addiction. She loves the sex, the veiled intimacy, the temporary feel of calming the yearning that sits deep inside her. She is obsessed with the sounds he offers her so freely, like she’s his salvation, and she can feel his unwavering trust in her with his every exhale.
Osha’s favorite part though?
The aftercare.
They’ve set up a small daybed, on which Qimir’s coveted electric blanket lives, in the corner of their filming room across from the typical chairs they use on camera. They also keep a tiny fridge full of red Gatorade next to the bed, which Osha makes sure to refill every morning as part of her official Domme duties. After Osha signs off of each show, she tenderly unwraps Qimir from the treated jute rope, checking his skin for any abnormalities from being tied. She offers arnica after each scene to treat any possible bruising, but her sweet on-camera submissive always shakes his head when she brings it up. They sit in the quiet, background music turned down almost all the way while Qimir floats back to Earth. Osha has gotten into the habit of carefully helping him stand and holding his waist as he treks the five steps to the daybed, then grabbing a cold red Gatorade after he’s settled, and slipping into the bed under the electric blanket with him.
Qimir is adamant that all he needs to come down from subspace is electrolytes, red 40, a warm blanket, and to be the big spoon as he gets back to equilibrium.
This is the moment Osha silently covets the most, the feeling of him strong and solid behind her, stroking her thighs and breathing into her braids. The power she feels from rendering this man speechless is unparalleled as she lets herself be cradled, almost like he can tell that she needs this as much as he does.
After some time and Qimir is feeling back to normal, they debrief, Osha always still in his arms with his legs pressed solidly into hers. She is absolutely obsessed with this feeling, letting him take charge of the conversation each time. He tells her what he liked, what he wants to try, how they could change things up a little bit for next time. He’s all business as he massages her thighs, speaking directly into her ear. This is what she dreams of at night, the sensation of his naked body pressed against her scantily clad ass and corset covered torso. She longs to tear those corsets off each time they approach the daybed, just needing a little bit more but afraid to push the limits that she put in place two years ago.
And for those two years, after they stream, they share a joint and eat the dinner that Qimir prepped earlier in the day, hot and ready to go as soon as they’ve cleaned themselves up, and then Osha goes back to her room alone.
And for hours, she makes herself come until her toys die, attempting to be near-silent as Qimir does god knows what in his room next door. When they started this arrangement, this job, Osha took some time to rearrange her room so her bed would no longer share a wall with Qimir’s. She’s careful when she buys her toys— doing so discreetly, testing the volume in the adult store she frequents to make sure there is no way her roommate can hear her as she fucks herself thinking of him and the way he whines so pretty for her and only her.
She knows it doesn’t make sense, this is just how she needs it to be.
Osha acknowledges that maybe, just maybe, she might have some issues. The boundaries help her keep her emotions in check and she is starting to wonder why she’s so adamant about sticking to these parameters. Two years ago when they decided to step into this joint venture of flesh and moans and bondage, it made more sense for Osha to be so guarded. She’s considering the trust that she has built in Qimir as a friend, roommate, and business partner. He’s reliable, steady, kind. Does she trust him?
Yeah. She does.
Stretched out in her bed in nothing but one of Qimir’s old flannels, tits out and nearly sated after their show tonight, she shakes off her Domme persona and thinks about what his perspective might be. Does he trust her? Absolutely. He’s spent hundreds of hours tied up under her mercy, attending to her like she’s his precious goddess. Of course he trusts her.
It never made too much sense to Osha just why Qimir committed to this partnership for so long— his professional skills are marketable and this was meant to be temporary for him while he looked for a different role in his field. Then again, she actively stops herself whenever her brain approaches his why— she does not necessarily want to contemplate his reasoning for letting her fuck around with his body on camera for the adult world to see. She tells herself over and over that this is just a friend helping a friend.
A friend fucking a friend— and never the other way around.
Osha’s mind whirls as her body, high on endorphins and oxytocin, floats towards another sweet finish. It’s almost automatic at this point, her hand on her pussy thinking of Qimir under her earlier, writhing and panting as she threaded a silk scarf between his teeth. She thinks of his lips, open and plush and so inviting. Never daring to go down this route, she allows herself this one small mercy of imagining those lips, pink and pouty, attached to her breast. She gives her nipple a squeeze and a tug as the hand between her legs desperately circles the hood of her clit. Her entire being is so sensitive she’s practically vibrating as she comes harder than she has all night, possibly harder than she has in weeks. She keens, her full body constricting as she kicks a dead vibrator to the floor. Her voice is raw and ragged, a feral sounding groan clawing through her.
She feels relief like she’s never felt before and something peaceful unlocks in her chest. Stretching up and cuddling into Qimir’s shirt, she falls into an immediate sleep, the beast in her finally quelled for the night.