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As she obeyed, he asked, “What size shoe do you wear?”
“Size eight, Sir.”
He rummaged through the high heels and found a pair that fit the bill. Taking them from the wardrobe, he set them on the floor in front of her. “Put these on.”
She stepped into the shoes. The heels were maybe four inches high. They accentuated the curve of her calves and added to the overall sexy slut look he was going for.
“You look like a whore, did you know that? A dirty, nasty whore.”
Color washed over her cheeks. She was so easy. This was going to be fun.
He feigned a frown. “I asked you a question, cunt. Did you know you look like a whore right now?”
She swallowed. “Yes, Sir.”
He smiled. “That’s right. You’re my whore. Your ass, your cunt, your mouth—they’re just holes for me to fill however I want. Isn’t that right, whore?”
Her cheeks flushed a darker pink. “Yes, Sir.”
He reached out and gripped one of her nipples. He twisted until she winced. “Say it,” he ordered. “Tell me you’re a worthless whore. Tell me your ass, your cunt and your mouth are just holes for me to fill.”
She blinked and drew in a tremulous breath. “I’m a worthless whore, Sir. My ass, my cunt and my mouth are just holes for you to fill, Sir.”
“That’s right,” he agreed, enjoying her obvious discomfiture. He moved behind her and wrapped one arm around her throat as he used the other hand to probe her cunt. He chuckled derisively as he pressed a finger inside her.
“Soaking wet. Not that I’m surprised. You’re such a nasty, dirty girl, Ellen.” Abruptly, he let her go. Reaching for the chain, he reattached it to her collar and gave it a tug. “Time to clean up the breakfast dishes.”
Back at the table, he draped the chain leash down her back and picked up the whip. “Clear the table and do the washing up.” He flicked the whip against her ass, making her gasp. “Go on, cunt. Get a move on.”
She stacked the plates and took them along with the empty coffee mugs to the kitchen. He followed, snapping the whip against her ass and the backs of her thighs as she clicked along in her stilettos. Her small gasps and yips of pain made his dick hard.
As she worked in the kitchen, he opened the refrigerator and pulled out the large cucumber he’d bought during their visit to the supermarket. Reaching into the pocket of his lounge pants, he fingered the tube of lube with anticipation.
When she was done with the dishes, he pointed to the floor of the narrow kitchen and said, “Lie down on your back, cunt. I want you to fuck yourself with this cucumber while I watch.”
Ellen’s eyes widened as she stared at the cucumber, which was the size of a large cock. He reached for the chain and jerked her downward. “I said, get on the floor, cunt. Do as you’re told.”
As she lowered herself to the ground, Damon coated one end of the cucumber with plenty of lube and leaned down to hand it to her. Ellen accepted it with obvious reluctance. Spreading her legs, she carefully eased the tip of the large phallus inside herself.
“That’s it,” he encouraged, rubbing his erection through his pants. “Fuck yourself, you dirty little cunt. Show me what a filthy whore you are.”
Blowing out a breath, Ellen closed her eyes and pushed the cucumber deeper into her cunt. While she worked it into herself, Damon loosened the tie at the waist of his pants and slid them down to mid-thigh.
Fisting his shaft, he informed her, “If I come before you do, you’ll be soundly punished.”
Face pink, breath rapid, Ellen moved the cucumber in and out of her cunt, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. She looked so deliciously slutty and wanton in the black leather corset and heels, her legs bent, knees spread wide, her hand curled around the green dildo as she slid it in and out of herself with increasing speed.
She began to pant, her breasts jiggling from her efforts. Damon held on as long as he could, curious to see if she’d actually manage to make herself come. But she was too fucking hot. And anyway, it would be fun to punish her.
Moving closer, he let himself go, spurting ribbons of come over her bare breasts and her face. As the ejaculate splashed over her, she startled, her eyes flying open. “Oh,” she cried. “Oh, no.”
Damon shook his head with amused dismay. “Oh, yes. Pull that thing from your twat and get up. That punishment horse in the playroom is calling your name.”
Chapter 18
Ellen eased the gooey object from her sex and sat up. She was furious at herself for not managing to come before her Master. Not that it was easy to make yourself come with a cold, slimy cucumber while lying on the hard kitchen floor in a tight corset and heels.
She lifted her hand to wipe a splatter of jism from her cheek.
