Pride.

When we are out together, I know Sir requires that I look like an adult, not the dirty little whore that I am for him. He is just my boss, doting and caring for my future. I sit outside his office and wait for his attention, and I am simply his new company ward. They don't realize what a pet I have become for him. I am his new ward, his new toy, his new pet, his new girl. But most importantly, I am his.
And so when we are out, at one of his swanky chosen bars, I must look the part. Today I am in a grey pencil skirt with a flirty but modest slit up the back. My white shirt is buttoned up, the Mandarin collar acting like a posture device holding my head up straight. My hair is back, tight and sleek. No one would suspect the bruises, cuts, bites, and scars which hide under these clothes. Or that the man in the dapper suit beside me is the one who caused them.
I wear them with pride, almost whimpering that I can't show them off.
We stand at the bar and I order my Grey Goose and soda, respecting his request that I also stop drinking well vodka. He sits on the stool while I stand. My bare legs shift the weight from one high heel to the other trying to find comfort.
I ask him about his day, but I can see his mind working. His day went well. I ask him if he has plans for the weekend and his lips curl just slightly. He does not. I smile, waiting for him.
"Are you nervous?" I shake my head with a small smile and he laughs. It is a beautiful moment of affection that makes me feel warm.
I smile and step just slightly closer to him. I feel as his hand moves underneath my skirt. The skirt is short enough for him to fit comfortably, but if anyone looked over it would be obvious what is happening. My cheeks flush and I beg fate to fill the bar, and pack it with strangers who will never look down.
I bite my lip as the tips of his fingers graze the center of my panties. I can't even feel the heat on my clit, but it swells desperately. He the notion of his advances make my nipples tighten.
I was fine. But now I'm ravenous. I want him to fuck me. I want him to pound my cunt until I hurt and I feel like the dirty slut that I am. I want his thick cock to stretch my wanting hole and I want to cum all over his cock, begging him for release.
I can feel my cunt soak itself in juices, my panties starting to dampen. He pushes a little and my mouth cracks open as I suck in a sharp breath.
"Are you having a good time, baby?"
I nod, my chest tightening. I start to tremble just slightly. He does so little for me to react so much. I struggle not to lower my hips against his finger, but I know he will pull his hand from under my skirt and it will cross my face and make me cry. I breathe a little harder, firmer, and hold steady.
"You want to be a good girl for me?"
I nod eagerly, creaking out a "Yes, Sir."
His hand pulls away and I feel like a glaze has been pulled from my eyes. I blink, catching my breath. I shift my legs again and I can feel my panties soaked.
"Go take off those pretty, wet panties for me, baby. Come back and put them in my pocket."
I nod and look up, hopeful for a kiss. He shakes his head just slightly and I nod. I want so desperately to kiss his beautiful swollen lips.
I skip off to the bathroom, a smile stretched across my face in what can only be described as glee.
In the bathroom it pains me not to touch myself, but those were not the instructions. I sit, panties off, skirt pulled up around my waist. I can feel my juices drip onto my inner thighs and I fight to shift against myself. I press my legs together and curl my fingers, wanting them to dip into my cunt, to slide in and replace the cock which is not there.
My panties are soaked. They are a sweet pink boyshorts, little silver stars dotting the front. In my hand, I feel my own cold cum pressing into my palm as I walk back.
I come back and slowly, delicately push then into his pocket. He takes my right hand - the hand he knows I fuck myself with and puts my fingers to his lips. He smiles as he knows from the smell that I have been good. I smile back.
"Good girl. Finish your drink." I giggle, giddy and pleased. I can see the outline of his cock rise against his slacks. His enjoyment makes me blissfully happy. I have purpose. I am of use.
I finish my drink and he orders another. I sip that one and we ease into each other more and more as the evening passes. The crowd swells and thins softly, like the bar is taking shallow breaths.
"Go into the bathroom and wait for me."
I nod and walk back, passing people, hoping not to catch anyone's eye on my way to the bathroom. The small, single-person bathrooms are tight, and I look around for where I will bend over and lean against.
When he comes in, he is carrying a shot glass. He hands it to me and I tip it back, placing the empty glass on the sink.
"Will it be safe there?" I nod, leaning into him. His hands stroke softly up and down my sides. They are delicate touches, and I feel like his prized possession.
"Turn around." I do and his hands leave. I wait, and I can only hear my breath. I wait, an my chest is tightening slowly. I hear almost nothing outside of my own heartbeat.
I feel his hand come around my mouth and my panties are shoved into my mouth. I can smell and taste my own cum, which is wet and cold. I feel his body push mine into the wall and I choke a little in an attempt to gasp.
I can feel my dress come up and his cock is already out, hard, ready. He slams it into my cunt. He fucks hard immediately, not bothering to stretch out the experience. There is something else he wants tonight. He fucks me hard, my hips slamming over and over into the wall.
His fingers move into my hair, pressing my head hard into the wall. I will have a red spot and can only hope it will not turn into a bruise.
I cough slightly on my panties and struggle to breathe through my nose. I tighten my cunt as I try and breathe and he notices my struggles promptly, his hand coming over my mouth and nose to hold them shut. I sputter a little, trying not to panic, simply trying to focus on his cock inside me.
I strain to breathe, pushing back, whimpering into his hand. He finally pulls his hand away and I struggle to take a full breath before it is back over my mouth. I close my eyes, trying to relax as I feel my cunt tighten on his cock, which flies in and out. He wants to cum. He is only fucking me for the process.
He repeats this process over and over - holding my mouth closed until I begin to really fight, and then a few seconds more, and then letting me take a breath. The more he does, he more my eyes begin to water and my nose begins to run, making it harder and harder to take the breath each time. They become increasingly shallow, and my knees increasingly weak.
I hear him moan into the back of my head. I am awakened by this noise, something I dream about hearing more. I can tell he is getting closer and I want to cum with him. My knees begin to tremble and he moves his hand to the back of my hair, taking my bun in his hand. I tighten more consciously as he lets go of my mouth. I move back against his cock, trying to get more and more into my cunt. I want him to fuck me. I want to cum all over him.
He pulls my head back just enough to slam it forward into the wall. I fight to cry out, but I am muffled.
He does it again, and I see sparks of light through my closed eyes. He does not want me to cum and he knows I was on the verge.
I feel his breath quicken and I know he is ready. I know his tell-tale patterns of breathing when he is ready to explode in my cunt and leave me dripping his cum onto the back of my skirt.
I feel him pull out and hear him grab the shot glass. I can only see from the corner of a cocked eye as he fills it easily with his thick, white cum. I am breathing hard. I am trembling. I am aching and swollen and dripping and scared.
He breathes heavy as he tugs on my hips to turn around. I watch him lick his lips as he softly removes the panties from my mouth. Mascara has run in tears down my face. My lipstick is smeared. There is a large, growing, dark and frightening welt cresting the top of my forehead. I am a disaster but I have never felt more love.
He runs his thumb over my cheek and then pockets the panties. He hands me the shot glass and I put it to my lips. We are in such a tight space that I still have to cock my neck to stare up at him with large, wilted doe eyes.
I hold the glass to my lips for only a moment before shooting it back into my mouth, tasting his cum and remnants of vodka and lemon.
He smiles. "Good girl. Lets get you home."
I nod. He kisses my lips and I smile again, laying my head against his chest as he runs a hand up and down my back. I look forward to the long bath I will receive when we are back home. But all of that is still illusory in this tiny alcove, set with dim and dank lights.
He allows me to splash my face with water in the sink as he exits. I wipe away the remnants of makeup and see myself plain.
I am a slut. I am a dirty, disgusting cunt. I am a shameful, cum-guzzling, cock-sucking pervert. I am a pitiful little fuck toy. I am a dutiful cunt rag, eager to suck the cocks of whoever my master says. I am desperate and shameful. I am a pity upon my own name and promise to be respectable. I am a depraved and unworthy tramp.
And because I am all of that, I smile.