I can't tell you how many times I've jerked off to this one.

Four men sit at a small card table. One is my owner, and the three others are friends he can win a great deal of money from. They are gentlemen, drinking whiskey, smoking cigars, sleeves of their button-up shirts rolled up and ties loosened. It is Friday, they have all been paid, and they all seek to win or lose some of it tonight.
I am kneeling on a pillow on the floor next to my owner, silent. I wear a collar around my neck and a chain hangs from the collar. I notice it every time I move, and the slightly sound of the links moving against each other is not something he wants to hear, meaning I stay as frozen as I can. He strokes my head periodically, and I resist the impulse to lean into his hand. It is an absent-minded gesture, and if he hear the clinking, he will notice the affection that the curling of his fingers around my ears feels like. Now and then he lets his hand drop over my face and I kiss his thumb, his palm, the tips of his fingers, knowing how this makes him smile. Other than those small tightening of my lips, forming a kiss and then melting away, I am a statue. I am on my knees, and he has let me sit on my feet and I know what this means. This means he doesn't want me to squirm, to request comfort. I wait.
And in those moments where the drinks are empty, or someone is hungry, I come alive. He tightens his hand over my chain and tugs me up a little. I nod and ask each man if he would like a refill. They are all polite, saying 'thank you' or 'no thank you' in response. I walk off to refill each glass, returning and passing them out, walking slowly around the table and attending to the needs of each player. Once everyone's needs are met, I walk back next to my owner, standing beside him. For my good service, he takes my chin and pulls my face down to meet him, kissing me on the lips. This makes me smile.
I wear a small dress, my ass peeking out from underneath the hem. I have cuffs on my hands, waiting for use like a gun in the first act of a play. My feet are bare, and I am required to walk only on my toes as I serve them. I wobble sometimes, but steady myself each time.
"What was my request, other than your devoted service, while you are at this table?" He says, his lips inches from mine and wet from my tongue.
"To remain wet, Sir."
"Good girl, stand and spread your legs."
I do, my back going straight and sucking in my breath a little as I open my legs, still balanced on my toes. His fingers do not even pretend to tease my inner thighs, as they simply seek to answer: have I done my job?
To his delight and mine, I am still wet, my clit is still swollen. His fingers slowly rub and press over my clit, making my strained thighs tremble. I bite my lip, letting a quiet moan pour out of my mouth.
"Good girl." He stops, pulling the chain for me to bend, and shoving his fingers in my mouth to clean. I suck them eagerly. He pulls his fingers from my lips and kisses me once more. He turns back to the game, pointing to the pillow.
I sit back down, leaning on his leg and chair.
I drift off in my mind, waiting for my cue to move again. I float, trying to remain poised and quiet as I serve.
I hear them laugh and my ears click back to the conversation. "That's fair." He looks down to me, lifting my head, his hand on my chin, pointing across the table with his other hand to a friend in a blue, striped tie. "He's having a bit of a rough game. Go make his night a little better." I nod, standing. He grabs my chain and I stumble a step back. "Crawl."
I get down on my hands and knees, crawling around the table and then underneath, opening his pants. I pull out his cock and begin to stroke it, slowly moving my hand up and down the shaft. I squeeze softly and feel him shift towards me.
I open my mouth and place my lips around his head, licking the slit and just wetting his cock with my mouth. He hear him groan, and can't imagine this will actually improve him game. I wonder if my owner is simply trying to end the game while he is doing well. I continue to lower my mouth, sliding down and lifting back up. Each time I bob on his cock I bring him deeper into my mouth. His hands find the back of my head and squeeze. He has already folded this hand. I smile at my owner's ingenuity. He must have a good hand.
I suck, my hands moving to his balls, teasing them and pulling the skin. He moves up towards my mouth and I suck eagerly, lost in his cock until I hear my owner's voice, and his hands pull the chips into his pile.
"Turn, lets watch her." I lean up a little, but he holds my head down on his cock. He shifts in his chair and my mouth does not leave his cock as he shifts and I shuffle over on my knees. I hear them comment on what a good girl he has, and I know he is swollen with pride. Among other things.
My owner stands, walking over and pulling my hair back. I suck, letting him thrust softly into my mouth. "Let him use your mouth, but your lips are mine."
He pulls his cock out of my mouth and I kneel, opening my mouth as wide as I can and sticking out my tongue. He comes back, rubbing the tip of his cock on my tongue, stroking his cock into my mouth. I hold my arms behind my back, trying to look up at him from my knees. Spit drips from my mouth, making a bee-line for the floor in front of my knees.
My owner holds my hair, keeping my face steady while his friend slaps his cock on my outstretched tongue. My owner nods to another one of his friends to come over. They whisper, and he leaves and returns with a roll of tape. They roughly fold my arms behind me, hands holding elbows, and tape my forearms together, letting me know that there will be nothing but misery when they pull the tape off. Spit continues to drip off my tongue as precum begins to drip onto it.
They stand me up, and I lift to my toes. My owner hands my leash off to one of his other friends. "Be my guest," he says.
His friend leads me a few steps and they gather the glasses, coated in icy water and still full of ice and place them in either hand. My short fingers struggle to hold multiple glasses.
They pull down my dress to just under my breasts, pulling on the nipples until they are rigid and just beginning to get tender. They begin to slap my tits and I whimper, making them each smile to himself. They smack each over and over, my nipples becoming more and more sensitive. Red hand prints begin to appear on my skin and I watch one of his friends walk behind me. The fingers of one hand trail over my hip while the other raises and comes down in a pop. I jerk forward, gripping the glasses as tight as I can. I barely stumbling towards the other one slapping my breasts back and forth and his fingers hit my breast bone, making me gasp.
They continue to strike, ignoring the other and giving me no rhythm to brace for. I am simply holding my breath. One hand comes down hard on my ass, one cheek and then the other. I watch as his third friend walks behind me and in a full wallop two hands come down on my ass. I stumble completely forward, falling off my toes for the first time that night and letting the glasses slip from my hands.
Everyone stops and all I can hear is my breath. Tears well in my eyes and I want to beg forgiveness of my owner. I have failed him. He tried to show was a perfect girl I was and I have failed him. I am devastated.
They speak but I can barely make out what they say. My mind is reeling.
"Lay down on your back." I do. They move slowly, walking around me. Two kneel beside me, each grabbing a leg. They are such kind men, they push back my legs, spreading them. My pussy is exposed, opened for them.
"Beautiful" says the one in the blue tie.
"You have a lovely girl, here," says another wearing glasses.
I can feel ice and cold whiskey on my back. My owner nods to the one in the red tie, who comes to the front. He taps one of the men holding my legs back and I sense they have a plan for me. I watch as the one in the red tie unzips his hands and pulls out his cock. He strokes it a few times before sliding it inside my pussy with a groan.
"Excellent little cunt you have here."
My owner takes his thumb and begins to work my clit, pulling and teasing it. I arch, still laying on my folded arms, and writhe against the two men fucking me so effortlessly right now. And then I feel it.
The tip of a thin, relentless cane begins to come down on the bottoms of my feet. This will teach me to fall off of my toes. I wiggle and struggle but they hold me steady as the red tie's cock continues to thrust inside me, pushing all the way in and pulling out.
"Would you like to try her?" He nods to the gentleman in the glasses, who has yet to put his cock anywhere near me.
The caning is rendering my feet numb. I try to restrain myself from flexing my foot, leaving each pointed with the soles up and read for my discipline. It will be days before I can walk comfortably as I feel white heat moving towards numbness.
He nods, thanking my owner for his generosity. The man with the red tie continues to fuck me, thrusting harder and faster until he is satisfied with his sampling of my pussy. He places his cock back in his pants and they exchange places.
The man with the red tie has a thicker cock, and does not bother to stroke himself before thrusting deeply inside me. I cry out, fighting so hard they almost let go of my legs. My arms feel as if they are about to fall out of their sockets, strained behind my back.
He fucks me harder than the other one, but my owner's fingers on my clit are relentless. I squirm harder, fighting to pull back. My pussy feel so tender I want to explode, but all I can do is scream and whimper and cry out.
"Would you like her to cum on your cock?" The gentleman with the glasses nods, thanking my owner again. My owner turns back to me and stops the caning of my feet, where the skin is threatening to split open. "Show them how good of a girl you are."
I nod, eyes squeezed shut, black mascara tears beginning to run down my cheeks.
The man's thick cock slows, pushing in and out in a more quiet, languid manner. My owner's fingers move harder on my clit, flicking back and forth as I drip onto the floor underneath me.
They work slowly, building faster, pushing harder, thrusting deep into my cunt. My cries and screams turn to moans, gasps. I begin to beg, pleading with them not to stop. Each focuses on his part, but each work in tandem. Fingers and mouths graze my thighs, leaving lines and gaps of electricity in their wake.
Each plays his part perfectly, and then together. Each deep thrust is matched with the whir on my clit. I am moaning and they are relentless. I fight, I struggle, but I beg to cum.
"No. Wait."
I nod, struggling as hard as I can. This is the largest fight I have hand to undertake in years.
"Please, please, Sir. Please, I can't wait." I cry out more and he looks at me, his face serene, his fingers destroying my clit.
"Did you try to be a good girl tonight?"
I nod, tears welling in my eyes.
"Did you try your hardest?"
I nod harder, squeezing my eyes, black tears spilling out on either side.
"Are you going to cum hard for me?"
I nod, opening my eyes, pushing back against the man's cock, against my owner's fingers, against my own body which aches to cum. I stare him in the eyes, letting him know of my sincerity, my desperation.
"Then cum for me."
I nod and close my eyes, screaming, bucking wildly. They hold my legs tighter, pinning them back as a writhe and struggle. I watch them flex, taking all of them just to hold me down. I cum so hard I fear I may black out, every ounce of tension exploding out of me in a long, sustained, painful orgasm.
I collapse on the floor and they mill about, wiping their brows and exchanging chips for real money. They all make small talk for a few more minutes and collect their things, which I have laid out so nicely on the bed.
My owner lifts me and I am dazed as scissors take off the black tape, and my arms are rubbed back to feeling. He helps me stand and undress, and I move immediately to the tub, where I welcome the steaming hot water which is unleashed onto me. I soak. I sit. I breathe.
He does not speak. He simply pushes my hair back behind my ears and kisses the top of my head. Water runs over me, washing me blank again.
I am a mess. I am lost. I am bliss.

I apparently have something on the brain.

We've been drinking since... brunch? I match her drink for drink, like I always do. One by one friends trickle out and go back to their lives until we are the only ones left to stay and drink. There's nothing like being tipsy in the late afternoon. There may be nothing more beautiful than a swollen orange sun lilting through a tall glass of cold beer. Especially when you're with someone who makes you wet.
She's got solid, broad shoulders and wears a button up shirt well. Long, jet black, grab-able hair. If she were wearing a loosened tie I wouldn't be able to hold back. It's her hands, though, that I want most. They're strong, and just rough enough to where I can imagine them on my nipples.
I feel it every time her leg presses against mine under the table. I feel it push against my thigh. I feel it in my nipples, which straighten and tighten and swell. I feel it tingle in my clit, beginning to ache from the day and the alcohol. I feel it in my cunt, which starts to pulse and soak my panties.
Her hands have become more courageous as the day has worn on. They casually run over my forearm, my back, and have finally begun brushing my legs, leaving trails of heat and then simply cold and lacking.
Black ink crisscrosses her tan forearms. They flex when she reaches for her glass, and the patterns curve slightly more. It's fucking gorgeous.
"Lets play pool."
I'm shit at pool. She nods her head to the table, and walks ahead of me, pulling quarters out of her pocket. The pools table's in a back room, and I follow her, watching her strong and unapologetic gait. We tuck away in the room, placing tall glasses on the side of the table. She racks and I watch, holding a cue. I watch every move she makes, and while my eyes are locked on her arms, hips, ass, and legs, I barely notice her turn around to watch me watch her. She watches my lips purse, watches my chest swell. She watches me suck softly on my bottom lip, letting it pop out wet and red. She watches as I notice her, and she watches me blush.
"Break." I finally say, my voice soft and blushing.
"Whatever you like, Princess."
She smiled and bends, breaking the balls with a huge clack, and they ricochet. Every time it is my turn, I make sure to bend for her, letting my ass shift and sway. I arch my back, sit on the edge of the table as she shoots, wait until she is watching me to move. She knows what I'm doing, and she doesn't stop me.
I bend over, and I finally feel her hand on the small of my back. I smile, returning to the pressure against her hand. She presses harder, and I press back. She finally pushes with all her weight and I collapse down on the table with a thump. I turn my head but she grabs my hair and puts it back in its place.
"Look forward."
I nod.
"Take the cue and hold your arms straight out, but don't let them touch the table."
I do as she says, holding my breath. Her hand disappears from my back and I take a large breath, which she immediate spanks hard out of me.
I reel from the pressure and pain, the searing sting on my ass, the slam of my hips into the table.
"Don't lower your arms."
I hold them onto an inch or two from the table, but perfectly straight out. She spanks me again, and I suck in a breath this time. Her hand comes down again on my ass, hard. I am still wearing a skirt, so she doesn't bother warming me up. She simply begins to come down hard on my ass in rhythmic blows.
"If you can take ten more in silence you can lower your arms."
I nod and she begins slowly. Each one is powerful and I ache to whimper. I bite my lip and breathe quickly through my nose, trying to hold back my voice. Three, four, five smacks and I am aching.
After the fifth she pulls down my tights, lifting my skirt without hesitation. I am bare-assed for her and whoever comes into the back room of the bar. I squeeze my eyes tight, and when I open them all I see are multi-colored balls on endless, soft green. I want to lay my head down but I hold myself up, the pool cue shaking but not dropping. Six and my breathing is ragged. Seven and I am trembling. Eight and I am shaking. Nine and I let out the smallest, most regrettable chirp in the back of my throat. She stops. I breathe, wanting to cry. The muscles in my arms are aching and tense.
"Start at one. No noise."
I want to cry out, I want to beg, but mostly i want to put the cue down. I breathe through the first several, my mind floating as I feel endorphins flood my body. I know I can get through this and be a good girl for her.
Five and I am visibly trembling. She walks around the table and I am desperate for the reprieve. With this moment, I breath a little easier.
She removes the cue from my hands and I do not let them fall. I am nervous. She picks up the eight ball and the cue ball and places on in either hand. Their weight is almost too much; I almost begin to cry.
She walks back around slowly.
"Six."
Each blow makes my hands jerks a little, but I do not touch the table.
"Do you hate me?"
I nod, my face tight, my breath held.
"Breathe." I do, quietly. I cannot give her the satisfaction of making me drop these balls. She got a single noise, and I am not going to give her another.
"Good girl." I smile, but only on one side. She spanks me harder, and I gasp, tightening my mouth. The burn is turning to numbness and with each bare-handed spank, I expend I am turning redder, more swollen.
"Your ass is white hot, Princess." I smirk again, snorting out a little breath of laughter.
Seven. I am resilient. With the end in sight, I tighten my grip on the balls.
Eight. I can taste relief.
"You can drop your arms on ten." I nod.
Nine and my legs have begun to shake. My knees are tightening and bracing against the table. I want the last one so much I now ache in a new way.
As soon as I feel the tenth blow I drop the balls and her hand begins to fly down, pounding over and over and over again on my ass. I cry out, and try to turn away, fighting to get out from underneath her as she wraps am arm over my waist and holds me against the table. I begin to curse at her, wriggling hard, trying to fight back as blow after blow after aching blow comes down on my bare ass. I turn enough to spit directly at her, which only makes her lean up and smack me in the face.
With her arm free I finally turn over onto my back and her hand comes down once hard on my cunt. I scream out just as she plunges her fingers deeply into my pussy. I tighten around her fingers against my will, crying out again as she proceed to thrust hard.
I lean up on my arms and she pushes me back down, her thumb nail running rough over my soaked cunt. I try and push her off, but my arms are so weak from holding them up I can barely make her notice I have touched her. I collapse back instead.
I push my hips against her hand, and she takes her other hand to push down on my pelvis, pinning me to the table. She is not even going to let me fuck her back.
This is not about me.
She climbs onto the table and sits on my waist, straddling, holding my upper body down. Her fingers pound my cunt, which is not dripping down onto the green felt of the table. My tights are around my thighs, holding my thighs together.
I push against her hands but all I can do it take. All I can do is tighten around her and curl my toes and struggle not to cum in her hand.
She pushes in a third finger and I am stretched, crying out and arching up as far as her body will let me. I push down against her hand as much as I can. I want more.
She works my clit hard, mercilessly. Her nails scrape over it, finding the spot that makes me whimper and hold my breath and focusing on it. She wants me to cum for her. All I am allowed to do is perform as told.
I struggle not to. I fight hard, trying to let my mind wander, trying to steady my breath but she is unrelenting. I don't want to cum for her. Not here.
I have little choice in the matter and I scream. I cum hard on her fingers, tensing, gripping. Her hand lets go of my pelvis and I push hard on her hand, my muscles clenched so tight I fear what I'm about to feel.
She climbs off of me and takes her hand, covered in my cum, and wipes it across my cheek. I can feel it coat my cheek, and my mouth tightens, my eyes narrow.
"Don't wash your face until you get home tonight. They should see what a slut you are."

A few things to smile about.

'Sex' is as important as eating or drinking and we ought to allow the one appetite to be satisfied with as little restraint or false modesty as the other.

I love being loud. I love moaning and yelling and crying out and screaming when I'm cumming. I love jerking off and hearing my own voice reverberate in an empty, cold apartment.

I love kissing. I love moving my lips over someone's... lips, hands, chest, neck, cock, thighs, pussy, legs. I love when my lips are swollen from the pressure of someone else's mouth.

I love biting. I love sinking my teeth into soft flesh and twisting, soft and hard, quick and slow, tight and tighter. And I love the marks my teeth leave. Beautiful little red circles of dented adoration.

I love licking. Especially when someone thinks I'll bite. A tongue curling up the neck or jaw line, tasting hot sweat and prickling on rough stubble.

I love hands. I love strong hands, a little rough, so I can feel the friction when they slide over my arms, legs, stomach, breasts.

I love how wet I get. I love that I get dripping, soaking wet in copious rivers. I love feeling it drip down my thighs and, when kneeling naked, over my ankles.

I love pressure. I love feeling the pressure of someone pushing against me. I love feeling their weight against my body. Particularly if I am squeezed between them and a wall.

I love when my nipples get hard against the fabric of my shirt, and every movement incites their tightening.

I love sucking and nibbling and teasing with my lips.

I love chocolate pudding. Not in a sexual way, but just as a side note. I really love chocolate pudding.

I love being squeezed. I love being groped and claimed and manhandled roughly. I love when I am taken and held and pushed and enclosed.

I love to struggle, and push against hands and legs and fight. I love when they catch me against a wall and tell me to stop struggling.

I love feeling a thigh between my legs. When I press down against them against my will, and feel them against my clit. I love when they press between my legs, and I want to stop moaning, but I can't.

I love leaving a spot of wet cum on someone's pants. I want them to feel it soaking through their pants and warm on their leg.

I love warm, dry towels.

I love feeling ashamed of how wet I am.

I love feeling someone get hard against me. I love when all of a sudden I can feel the swelling of a cock against me. It makes me ache and writhe. I love grinding against it. It takes my breath away.

I love when he puts his fingers in my mouth to suck, keeping my head steady, fighting with my tongue.

I love when a hand is slid into my panties. I love trying to move away from it but feeling a hand squeeze my cunt.

I love having my hands pinned behind my head. I love when I try to push hands away, and immediately my hands are pinned back.

I love blushing. I love when someone can actually catch me off guard enough to feel nervous, ashamed, embarrassed. I love the heat rising into my cheeks and having to look away from the rest of the room to keep my cool.

I love dark nail polish. I love the way it looks on short, blunt nails. It looks like damage could be done.

I love when my skirt is pulled up. I love when it's pushed up and I struggle by shifting up, but it doesn't matter. My skirt is still around my waist.

I love begging. I love being on the verge of tears and asking, pleading; asking 'not here, no, please stop.'

I love fingers over my panties. I love the friction of cotton on my clit. I love soaking my panties against my will. I love fingers pressing against my pussy through them, just teasing.

I love when my panties are pulled down. I love when they're ripped off and I'm left exposed, wet, ashamed, humiliated for wanting it so badly.

I love when it takes one hand to pull out his cock. I love feeling skin and swelling against my thigh. It makes me shake.

I love being fucked. I love being fucked roughly, and painfully. I love when he shoves his cock inside my cunt and fucks me so hard it makes me gasp.

I love when his hand goes over my mouth. I love trying to move my face away but feeling him press my head so hard into the wall it hurts. I love when my mouth is covered so hard I struggle to breathe.

I love when he cums inside me. I love feeling his cock exploding in me.

I love music with good lyrics. I like words that I can soak into and that can soak into me. I love Isobel Campbell and Mark Lanegan. I love her soft melodies against his earnest growl.

I love when he pulls back and puts his cock away. I love that he barely looks at me.

I love superheroes. Though, the outfits are hit or miss. Wonder Woman, Batgirl, Silk Spctre? Amazing. Powergirl, Rogue, Supergirl... Leave room for improvement.

I love when I am told to cum for him. I love looking around to make sure no one is watching and his hand grips my chin. I don't want to make him tell me twice, and my hand moves to my pussy.

I love feeling my cum drip down onto my legs as I rub my clit furiously. I love pushing my fingers into my pussy and feeling it pulse on my fingers as I ache to cum.

I love when his hand goes back over my mouth to shut me up. I love when he tells me not to stop, but to shut my mouth.

I love cumming on my fingers. I love soaking my fingers, feeling it coating my skin.

I love sucking my fingers clean when I'm done. Licking over and in between, getting every drop with my tongue, eyes on him.

I love that he finishes ripping off my panties and shoves them in his pocket. I love that he makes me walk back out with a tiny little skirt and no panties, exposed and nervous for the rest of the night. Knowing that people will point and whisper. It makes me feel exposed, unnerved.

I love the sip from his drink he tips into my mouth. I love the cold of ice and vodka as I'm hot and flustered.

I love the buzz and breathlessness after I cum. I love that I have to steady myself on his arm even though I hate him for doing it to me.

I love bad jokes.

I love good desserts.

I love experiences which I have to decide whether or not I enjoyed later.

1950s shit is hot.

I'm waiting for him to come home. I'm always nervous in these moments before he gets home. He'll either be sober and somber, or drunk and hateful. I never know which I like more.
Dinner is on the stove and ready to plate as soon as I hear his key in the lock. Every time I hear the elevator open I tense and run for my ladle. It is always the elevator sound that I almost don't hear. When his key slides into the lock, I am dishing out rice, and sliding chicken onto a plate. When he opens the door I am almost to the second plate. By the time his coat is hanging, I am ready, two full dinner plates in hand.
It takes him two tries to hang up his coat, which lets me know he's the latter of the two options. He is unhappy with dinner as soon as he sets it on the table. He walks over and gives me a brief, dismissive kiss on the side of the temple and sits down. I am waiting for a rant about work, to hear about how stupid his boss is or how much he loathes his secretary but he is quiet as he takes the first bite.
He takes a second.
Out of nowhere he flips the plate, rice splattering onto the floor, and glass shattering around me. My breath is caught and it is a long moment of fear before I even realize I am holding my breath.
"What the fuck is that?"
I wait and he slaps me across the face.
"What the fuck is that?"
I open my mouth to speak and feel tears well up. He slaps me again across the face and stands as I being to tremble.
"Stupid bitch." He grabs me by my hair, tightening his fingers and making my scalp burn. He pulls me up and out of the chair, tears running black mascara down my cheeks. "You stupid bitch, do you not understand what I'm saying?"
"I do!" I finally cry out, voice trembling.
He stops. "Good." He slaps me again. "She's slow but she's listening" he says to no one in particular. "So what the fuck is this?" He points to the food on the floor and pushes my head towards it. "This is shit." He shoves my face closer. "This is dog food, you cunt." His fingers tighten in my hair and I start to whimper over the tears. He continues to curse under his breath. "You're making me eat dog food, you little inconsiderate cunt." He finally shoves my face into the floor. "Then eat like a dog. Off the floor." He shoves my face harder into the floor, my cheek flush against the wood. "You don't appreciate what I give you, so eat like a dog."
I breathe hard, waiting. He turns my face. "EAT." I open my mouth, unsure. "Eat off the floor like the ungrateful dog you are." He squats down and watches as I take small bites, licking, tasting everything I use to clean the wood, tasting dinner, tasting shame, tasting my tears as they drip down. "Good girl."
He watches me closely and then turns my head again. Rice and carrots stick to my cheek. He stands and places a foot on my other cheek, pressing me harder and harder into the floor. "Ungrateful cunt."
"Yes, Sir." I squeak out.
He removes his boot. "Do you know what you're good for? Get up."
I stumble to my feet, wiping my face, pieces of food dropping to the floor.
"You know what you're good for. Do it." I get down on my knees, and unzip his pants. He slaps me softly on the face. It's the closest he can come to affection right now.
I lean in and begin to lick his cock. It is already swollen, the tip red and ready to drip. I take it into my mouth quickly as he begins to get restless with my tongue. He moans.
He grabs the sides of my face and starts to fuck my mouth slowly, almost calmly. It is the only time he will be calm tonight.
In full control of my head, he is getting faster. And though I want to struggle, I continue to cry, simply letting him slide his cock into my throat. It works my mouth roughly, sliding out slowly and then pounding it back in. Over and over he takes long drags and then violent thrusts. I whimper, spit dripping from my mouth and onto my dress. His hands tighten on my face, and his thumbs go on either side of my mouth to hold it open.
"Fuck, you do know what you're good for." I can taste his precum as he drags his cock over my tongue.
Finally he pulls out and I reach up to wipe my mouth of spit and makeup and pieces of the floor I came from. "Bend over."
I do willingly, and he pulls my dress up in the back. He had me stop wearing panties months ago, preferring only garter belts and stockings to the bother of underwear. He reaches underneath me as I bend over the table and I am humiliated at how wet I am. "Such a hungry little dog, aren't you?"
He shoves his cock in me and I moan. "No, puppy. Bark for me." I am timid. Shocked, really. He grabs my hair and pulls my head back. "BARK."
"Arf!" I yelp out, just wanting my hair back.
As I let it out he starts to fuck me. "Don't moan, puppy. Just bark."
I nod, biting my lip and trying to keep all sounds in. I reach my hand down between my legs and tempt fate.
He fucks me hard, and I feel my cunt squeezing him hard. As I slam into the table, my hips begin to ache and I feel he has finally chipped the bones underneath.
I want him to explode inside me. I want to feel it dripping down my thighs as I kneel down and clean up glass and food. I rub my own clit furiously, crying out, loudly. "ARF ARF ARF!"
He moans, shooting hard into me. He bucks against my ass, holding it tightly before letting me go. He stumbles off to bed, and I feel it begin to drip as I kneel down and pick up my first bits of rice.

She is either his slave or his despot.

My hands are tied behind my back and there is a collar around my neck. Attached to that collar is a leash and attached to that leash is the owner of my submission tonight. He keeps me a step or two ahead of him at all times, pulling me around. He places various things in my bound hands, from his drink to a crop to his clothed cock. Every time I touch his cock he squeezes my arm and I gasp, catching my breath in my throat.
"I have a gift for you." He whispers into my ear. I smile, giddy, excited to see what he has brought for me. "You're such a good girl." His hands trail down my arms and I shiver, goosebumps blooming underneath his fingers. They land on the ropes around my wrists and begin to untie the knots. The ropes fall between our feet and his hands work mine, rubbing the marks and tingling finger tips.
I look around for my present, almost bubbling over with excitement but all I see is a large empty space with a few people milling around. He lifts my hand forward and extends his finger to a pretty girl, dressed in a lovely little black outfit. She is pretty but not generally my type.
"I want you to break her." He whispers. "She's a pain slut. Do whatever you like to her."
My chest swells. I am breathless with the idea. He has known about my sadist tendencies but never seen them. I want him to be proud of what his girl can do. His hands are on my sides and hips, squeezing them, warming me. I feel my nipples tighten to the point of pain. I hear the metal on the collar clank a little. "When I take off this leash, take her." I nod and feel myself get aggressive, animalistic. I start to growl softly in the back of my throat and I hear the softest laugh.
He reaches down and squeezes my cunt through my panties, and I'm already wet. I grind hard into his hand and he pulls me back up straight. He pulls off the leash, leaving the collar around my neck - letting me know I still belong to him.
The second it is off I am ready to pounce. I walk towards her in fast, gaping steps. She is staring at me with fear in her eyes and an excitement in her ragged breath.
I immediately grab her by the hair and pull her to the floor, putting her on her knees. She squeals a little and I tell her to shut the fuck up. She is on all fours and I pull her up so she is kneeling.
I begin to walk circles around her. I want her to feel like live bait. She swallows hard as I walk slowly, stopping behind her. I walk over and stroke her hair softly, teasingly. "Miss?"
I walk around her. "Open your mouth." She does and I spit, closing her mouth. "I told you to shut the fuck up." I slap her across the face hard. "Now swallow."
I grab her by the hair again and push her down. Her hands reach for the floor and I stop. "No. Hold you hands behind your back." She does and I force her to lean down, holding herself up just by her own strength and will. I reach down and dig my nails into the flesh of her ass. She whimpers and I begin to spank her hard, landing smack after smack after smack on her ass. I pound her ass red, feeling the skin warm and swell. I use both hands until they ache, and keep pushing until finally she cries out loudly. I smile and stop.
"Get on all fours." I sit on her back, straddling her like a backwards pony. "I thought you were a pain slut." I spank her once. She cries out. "Count." I spank her again and she whimpers out a 'one'. I smack her on the back of the thighs and she continues to count. "Tell me what you are in 3 words."
"I'm a slut."
"Four words."
"I'm a dirty slut."
"Five words."
"I'm a dirty fucking slut."
"Seven words."
"I'm a dirty fucking cunt rag slut."
"Now tell me that every time you get smacked from now on."
She screams it as a hit her ass, her thighs, the bottoms of her feet. She screams it as a grab her hair and pull her back onto the floor and spread her legs, slapping her inner thighs in stinging swipes. She whimpers it as I begin to slap directly onto her pussy, which is already wet. Every smack ends with my fingers pushing into her clit, making her push forward for another hard whack.
"Do you like that?" She nods, whimpering. I spit on her and smack her again harder. She cries out and then moans as I more forcefully rub her clit. "Do you know why?" She shakes her head. I spit and slap harder, grinding the palm of my hand into her clit. "Because you're a dirty." Smack. "Fucking." Smack. "Cunt-rag." Smack. "Slut" I pull her underwear aside and shove two fingers into her, fucking her hard and making her cry out.
I pull my fingers out of her. "Shut the fuck up, cunt." I look back at him and he is watching calmly, hand over the hard cock still in his pants. I smile at him and he smiles at me, nodding. I lick my lips as I watch his hand move. I turn back to her. A man is standing nearby with a drink and I wave him over, taking the drink from his hands. I grab her by the hair and drag her over to kneel in front of me as I sit in a chair and slide forward. I pull off my panties and spread my legs. I am soaked. "You know what you're good for."
She nods and goes in hungrily, licking and sucking my clit, her tongue pushing inside me. She leans back and uses the tip of her tongue and I take the opportunity. I pour the drink down over my clit and she laps up vodka and cum in gulps. Her makeup is smearing, black running down her face. I finish with the drink and pull her hair back to slap her. "Lick the rest off the floor."
She goes to work, her tongue licking and dabbing. I pull the lime out of the glass and push her on her back again, squeezing the remnants of lime juice in the wedge onto her cunt as I kneel over her. I slide up to her face and begin to rub my clit, pushing fingers into my pussy, dripping vodka and cum into her mouth as I get closer and closer to cumming on her face.
I look up and he stands, walking over to me. He gets behind me and violently shoves me down until I am on all fours over her. He pulls out his cock and without a word or a hesitation, shoves it inside me. I squeeze my pussy around it and moan loudly as his fingers find my clit and start to work it roughly. His cock swells and I push hard back against him. I squirt onto her face, and she moans, watching his cock pound me from only inches away. He is fucking me relentlessly, and I am so close I can feel blood running through my veins and under my skin. He can tell I am getting ready to cum, and pulls me up by the hair, putting a hand on my throat. He tightens and I am immediately light headed and caught off guard. I finally whisper "Please?" Choking out one word in place of a real question.
"Yes, cum for me. Cum all over her face."
I scream out, cumming hard all over his cock, cum dripping down onto her pretty, mascara smeared face. I have not earned his cum yet, that will wait for later. He pulls out of me and lifts me onto his lap, letting me curl up. I tuck my face into the crook of his neck and whisper into his ear. He laughs and nods, looking down at the girl.
"She said, 'don't fucking wash your face'." I smile and thank him. The girls gets up and I hear her ask if she can say thank you but he waves her off. She is gone and his lips move to my ear. "Good girl."

Lookin forward to a little afternoon delight

I'm 14 and already quite the little cunt. Already a dirty little whore. I dress like a slut, and I fuck around with boys in school. I'll suck cock for an A, and I treat other girls like shit. And I know a secret.
He's a teacher. He gets us to read the classics and prods us for our thoughts. I've wanted to fuck him since day one. I've wanted to fuck him ever since he handed out copies of Huck Finn and winked at me when my dark purple fingernail slid over the raised wording of the title on the cover. I paint my lips for him and primp before his class. I have spent the last semester pouting at him, and in the last class he finally caught me, losing his train of thought mid-sentence.
And now I have a secret which makes me steam. I am searing with anger, and I imagine he can tell. He knows that I know. I have been cutting his class, and he hasn't said anything to the school yet. Finally he sees me in the hall and asks me to come to his classroom after school today.
I have to go. I show up, and like always, primp before I see him. I have swollen red lips and a skirt that just barely covers my ass. And, of course, glasses. He's told me how pretty he thinks I am in my glasses before and I want him to remember.
I walk into his classroom, closing the door behind me. He is sitting at his desk and looks up.
"Yes?" I ask. How indignant I must sound. How unappreciative. How hurt.
"Hey, I'm glad you're here. I wanted to talk to you." I stand, even though he gestures for me to sit. "Come on, don't make this hard for me."
I nod, sucking my cheeks in and not making eye contact. I sit on a desk and he sits on his. He wants to be my peer right now, in his rolled up sleeves and tousled hair. I want to be his fucktoy.
"So what's been goin' on? You're one of my favorite students, I miss you when you're not here."
"I haven't wanted to come."
"Did I do something?"
There is a long pause. I lean back and cross my arms, cocking one side of my mouth just slightly. "I know what you did, Sam."
He pauses. I have never called him by his first name. "Mr.-"
"Sam. I. Know. What. You. Did." I am slow and methodical, catching him off guard. He has known how capable I of this since day one. Men like him can spot girls like me. Humberts always find their Los. I giggle and his face turns angry.
"So what did I do?" His voice chokes.
"She told me-" His head drops. He can't deny it after it gesture like that. "I told you I knew."
"So you haven't come to class because of that?"
This is when my eyes furrow. I have been seathing about this for days and this is the moment it's finally allowed to come forth. "It should have been me." He is not even taken aback. He knows. "If you were going to fuck one of your students, it shouldn't have been that fucking virgin."
"Stop it."
"What the fuck were you thinking? You want me. You want to fuck me, if you were going to make a mistake, to fuck up your career, it should have at least been worth it."
"Stop it."
"I'm going to tell them what you did. I'm going to say you fucked her and came onto me. Said you were going to give me an A if I sucked you off. Said it would have been an A+ if I let you fuck me in the ass-"
"You stupid bitch, shut the fuck up!" He is angry, and stands. "Stop it. I want you to stop."
I pause. It's more fun to watch him squirm.
"I'm sorry. You must have been misinformed. I wouldn't sleep with a student." He sits at his desk, fuming, red.
I stand, walking around to his desk. He is in his chair and I lower down to sit on the desk next to him. "I'll make you a deal."
"No."
"Fuck me and I won't tell." He loathes me as he gets harder. "I'll never say a word." I lift up his face with my fingers. "Cross my heart, Sam."
"You're mistaken." He pushes my hand away, but lets his hand linger on my wrist.
"I won't say a word."
"You don't know what you're asking."
"Yes I do. And I want it." He stands and I grab his arm, squeezing it. "I want it. Now." My eyes narrow and he is getting angrier.
"You think so?"
"Fuck me."
"Shut up."
"Do it, you old pervert." He is seething, and finally grabs my arm. He pulls me off the desk and I gasp for the first time, grabbing onto his arm to steady myself.
He pushes me against the desk and I want his lips on mine. No such thing happens as he slap me across the face. I want to cry with the sting. He turns me around and shoves me against the desk so hard I can feel the bruise on my hips spread. He pulls up my skirt.
"This is what you want?" He pulls down my panties and pulls out his cock. He is already hard, swollen, red, dripping. So am I.
He shoves his cock inside me and holds it there, deeper than I've felt anything inside me. It hurts and I want to cry.
"Is this what you want?" He starts to buck against me, and I can feel it inside my stomach. He is pounding my cunt raw, slamming his hard cock deep inside me. I start to whimper, but he doesn't even acknowledge me. He grabs my hair and pulls it back, and I can feel him ripping my hair out of my scalp with his fist.
"Take it, cunt." I am aching. His hips pound so hard into me that I am slamming into the edge of the desk. I want to scream but as I open my mouth he puts his hand tightly over my throat and starts to squeeze. I can feel my pussy tighten around him, searing pain growing with every thrust.
His other hand comes down hard on my ass and I try and gasp but his hand squeezes tighter. I start to feel myself go limp against him, and I struggle harder for air. He loosens his grip and I gasp hard, wheezing, barely noticing as he continues to slide inside me. I catch my breath and squeeze my cunt on his cock, making him moan softly in the back of his throat. I start to cry as I catch my breath, and tears run down to his hand but he doesn't even flex to see what it is.
He squeezes again, bucking harder. I try and scream, I want to beg him to stop. It hurts too much and I know I am going to be cleaning blood from this pair of underwear tonight. His hand comes down again, harder on my ass. He comes down harder and harder each time.
His hand tightens so hard on my throat I think I may never breathe again and begins to cum inside me. His cum burns in my pussy, and he jerks with each load. He is filling me with cum, epic amounts of cum. As soon as he is done he pulls back and shoves me against the desk. He is gasping, sweating, closing his pants. He takes a few steps away from me as I lie on the desk.
He charges back over and begins to spank me. Each time he hands his hand on my ass I whimper and squirm, trying to move away from his hand. He places a hand on the small of my back and holds me as close to in place as he can. His hand pounds faster and I continue to cry, tears and spit running out onto his papers.
He finally pulls me up by my hair.
"Is that what you wanted?" He is breathing hard, red-faced.
I am silent.
He slaps me across the face. Hard. "I asked you a question."
"Yes." I whisper.
He smacks me again. "Louder."
"Yes." I announce.
He spits directly in my face. "Good girl. Are you going to tell?"
"Yes." He spits again, rubbing it into my face. I am decorated in bruises and mascara tears.
"Are you coming to class tomorrow?"
"Yes."
"Good girl. Now clean the fuck up. You look like a dirty slut."
He walks out. I am on time to class the next day.

Go buy eye hooks. They come in handy.

"You've been such a good girl for me." He says. "I'm so proud of you, and you know how I love showing you off." He's leading me to a wall with eye-hooks in two lines down the wall. I love his praise. It makes my heart pound and gets me wet and perky. I can't wait to serve him.
"But I worry that it's only because you enjoy it. That you're not doing it because it pleases me."
I open my mouth to explain that I love serving him, that I would do anything for him.
"Stop. Don't tell me what you think I want to hear." He pushes me against the wall hard enough to take my breath away. I am caught off guard, but never afraid he is angry. He stays so calm. He simply wants to know the depth of my submission, and I am pleased to show him what I am willing to do.
He takes a blindfold and puts it over my eyes. He knows what this does to me. He knows the first time he put it on I groped for him more, lost my breath more, and trembled when he wasn't touching me. I take a long breath and nod, smiling for him. I heard him chuckle and know that whatever he has planned will wipe that smugness from my face.
He shoves me against the wall and puts a piece of duct tape over my mouth. He tells me to squat down and I do, knees splayed and pussy exposed.
I feel ropes quickly wrap around each bicep. Ropes are tied down my arm and to each eye hook so I cannot move. I can barely squirm, and I love when he watches me squirm.
But that is my love, and not his.
I am crouched and I already feel a burn in my thighs and knees. I know he is done because I hear him walking away. I am breathing, and it's all I can hear for long stretches. I can barely tell if he is still in the room. I hear some movement, and footsteps approach. I am blowing hard out of my nose, waiting, and my nose begins to run.
I can feel the heat of another body standing in front of me. I wait. And then I hear it.
"Take your cock out." His voice, the one I have waited to hear, is on the other side of the room. I have no idea who is now unzipping his pants and pulling out his cock.
"Go." I hear him start to stroke his cock. I am still squatted, and he is now jerking off directly in front of my face. I am glad my mouth is covered, but I can still feel the heat of his body, hear him beating off, moaning a little in the back of his throat.
"Spit on her." This man who I have no clue about grabs me by the hair tightly. "No. I didn't say you could touch her. I said spit on her." He grunts and lets me go, spitting in my hair as he continues to jerk off, beating his cock over and over.
I picture him sitting and watching me, suit trousers and a button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His tie is loosened slightly, and he is leaning forward on his knees.
My thighs are burning as I continue to hold myself up and pull downward on my arms. I can feel the ropes searing my skin as I try and ease my legs. They start to tremble, and I continue to shift.
"Slap her tits." He know how much this makes me scream and whimper. My tits are sensitive, and he knows it. I start to yell behind the duct tape. I don't know who this man is, and I am afraid of what he thinks I can take.
His hand comes down hard right on my nipples and I yell as best I can, whimpering, snot dripping down my face. He slaps them again, whipping them hard with his hand. I continue to scream, or at least try.
"I want to hear her." And of course, the man rips duct tape off my mouth. I scream at everything, all at once in forceful yell. He continues to slap and I continue to whimper, trying desperately to move and still unable. I start to cry, sniffling, tears dripping down my face as he is relentless on my tits.
"Stop." He slaps once more. "Hey! I said stop. She's not your girl." I hear him shift in his chair as the man stops abruptly. "She's mine. And you'll stop when I say stop."
The man freezes and I am breathing hard, sniffling and sore. My legs are still shaking. For the first time, he addresses me. "Open your mouth, young lady." And I do, dropping my jaw and letting my tears stop.
"Continue." The man continues to jerk off. Faster. Jerking harder. I can hear him straining to cum quickly. I am shaking more and more. I want to turn my head so he cant cum in my mouth, but I hold steady.
"Finish." He grunts and begins to cum. It is in my hair, on my face, dropping down onto my tits. I am disgusted. I feel destroyed and picked apart, raw and exposed.
When the man is finished, he walks away, and I can hear them in mumbles talking to each other. They each exchange thanks and I wait for a door to close.
When we are alone, I hear him walk back over. My legs shake and I sweat in pain. I feel him take a wet washcloth and wipe off my face. It is so soft over my skin and into my hair. The ropes are pulled away so slowly, and I know my legs will give out as soon as he stands me up.
Pain rips through me as he helps me out of my squat. I cry out, and he lets me collapse against him. I am shaking still, blindfold still on. I am struggling to hold it together, and he holds me and my vulnerability together. He pulls the blindfold off and I blind, squeezing my eyes, hiding my face in his shirt, mascara and eyes shadow and whatever lipstick did not end up on the inside of the duct tape is now smearing into his shoulder.
And when I lean against him, I can feel his hard cock against my leg. He is straining, swollen, and I hear him make the smallest noise in the back of his throat when I push against him.
I am happy. I am pleased. Because so is he.