AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Again. Deeper this time.”
I drove into her mouth once more. Over and over, I forced her this way, not letting up in the least, until she surrendered to it. I used that mouth for my own pleasure, making it clear that she was to be passive in the servicing of my cock. That I would use her mouth just as selfishly, harshly, and cruelly as I’d used her pussy the night before.
My balls gathering tight, I loosened my grip on her hair, giving her more freedom of movement with her mouth. “Make me come, silly girl. Yourjobis to make me come. Now, do it. Suck hard. Faster. Faster, bitch!”
Her head was bobbing at a rapid pace then, the tight clutch of her lips around me threatening to undo me at any moment. Then her fingers slipped under the sensitive underside of my scrotum, lifting and gently squeezing my balls as she continued her ministrations. She moaned softly as she continued to suck, my whispered exhortations to ‘worship that cock, bitch’ and ‘make me come, or I’m going take a belt to your clit next time’ seeming to drive her to even more frantic working of my shaft with her mouth.
Then a final swirl of her tongue just under the head of my cock, and I was undone, driving up into her, making her cough and gag anew as I groaned, my semen leaping forth, coating her tongue, her mouth overflowing with it. A thick, heavy dollop slipped from her lips onto my pubic hair, and I softly admonished her once I’d come down from my climax, my breathing still labored. “I’ll teach you… slut… not a drop… should be… wasted.”
Then I finally slumped back against the couch, her tongue still gently snaking up and down my still half-erect shaft. She made sure to clean me completely, even pressing her tongue tip into the sensitive slit at the tip of my cock to draw the last thin string of seed between her lips, her pretty throat working as she swallowed that too.
I pressed her face down then, forcing her to rest her heated, scarlet cheek against my hip. I caressed the tangled, sweaty locks of her hair. “That was… a good start. You sucked well, mostly. But we’ll work on it. I expect much more enthusiasm, but it was a decent first try. You’ve got to learn you’re not dealing with a stupid, hair-trigger boy anymore. You’re learning how to please a man now. And a man who has very high expectations for your service of his cock. Understand?”
She nodded, her gaze lowering.
“You’re a good girl though,” I said, laying the back of my hand against her flushing cheek, loving the blazing heat of her blush against my fingers. “And I look forward to making you evenmoreof a good girl for me soon enough.”
CHAPTER22
Lola
I’d attempted to go back to some semblance of normalcy, after he’d used my mouth, after he’d shown me my new position in our relationship. I loved it, and it scared me, and I wasn’t sure how it would all end up.
I wanted to find out though, no matter what. I hadn’t seen him the rest of that day, after he’d fucked my face. It was probably for the best though, because I still didn’t know what to think of it. Of course, in one sense it was straight out of my darkest fantasies, even better in real life than in my imagination, but that didn’t mean that it hadn’t sparked a whole other line of questions within me. Where was this going? What was I to him, really? What did Iwantto be to him?
While I pondered those questions, we fell into a new normal somewhat. The morning after, I awoke to find a brand new crisp pair of black lace thong panties, identical to the ones he’d torn. I felt sheepish at how much I grinned at them, holding them to my chest and sighing. They were just panties, so why was I having such a girlish reaction to them? Mainly, it was the thoughtfulness of the gesture, that I was on his mind, even when he wasn’t around.
Thatwas new for me, and I found I loved it.
For the rest of the week, our new pattern became clear within a day or two. Little had changed in our morning routine, and I typically wouldn’t even see him before he went off to the office.
But every day he seemed to come home earlier and earlier. His inspections of my work—and my body—became more and more thorough, increasingly uncompromising, strict, and yes, unfair. Invariably, I would fail some aspect of these inspections, and I’d be punished for it. And I was embarrassed at how much I looked forward to seeing what he would do to me next.
I think I was spanked over every piece of furniture, every counter, every table in the entire house. And every time I was punished, afterward there was a requirement to thank him as well.
My thanks would always be conveyed through his vigorous sexual use—and abuse—of my body.
Sometimes it was kneeling for him and choking on his cock, while somewhere above me he berated me and shamed me for failing to take every inch of his shaft all the way down. I might be forced to swallow all of his cum, or extend my tongue and show all that he had deposited there before ordering me to swallow it down gratefully. Thanking him in a quiet, trembling voice for the gift of his cum was always expected afterward.
Other times, he would pound my pussy relentlessly, ruthlessly, until I was crying out in both pain and pleasure as his cock brutalized my cervix, my pussy so stretched I thought I was ruined when he got done with me.
Many a night he’d left me in bed with a soft kiss to my temple as I curled up on my side, in a fetal position, my pussy throbbing and stinging, my heart pounding, my mind replaying how he’d just used me so thoroughly, how he’d left me exhausted, spent, utterly used up in the very best of ways. He’d take everything from me, showing me what I was to him, that I was little more than a place for him to come, a set of holes and tits for him to enjoy, revel in, hurt, and put away when he was done using them.
And I loved every fucking minute at it. What did that say about me?
Just as he’d promised, at the end of the week, I was punished. It wasn’t because of anything I had done specifically, more it was a way to reinforce his power over me, to remind me of my place, and serve as an excuse for him to spank my ass red. The first time had been with his hand, over his knee. Before that commenced though, he’d forced me to stand before him naked while he was still dressed in his gorgeous suit. I was required to recite in exhausting detail every single oversight I’d made, any error, anything I’d overlooked.
It was a surprisingly humbling, and yes, deeplyeroticexperience, confessing all to him. And at the end of those sessions I’d felt real remorse and shame. I had a sort of anticipation building within me, at the prospect of having my sins cleansed from me by the pain I knew he was about to inflict, for the shame I was about to sink deep into at being punished in such an intimate and humiliating way.
At the end of it I was a crying, sobbing mess, and he held me against his chest stroking my hair, kissing my forehead, telling me I was his very good girl, that all was forgiven, that I never looked more beautiful than I did in that moment in his arms.
I could have told him I loved him in those moments, but it wasn’t right, the emotions too strong, too stormy, my ability to think clearly totally compromised. I didn’t trust myself enough in the grips of that passion, so vulnerable that I felt I might say anything.
The second time I had my punishment, it was with a wooden paddle. Just as before I’d been forced to confess to him entirely naked, not even allowed shoes, my hands clasped shamefully behind my back. I was told to keep my eyes on the floor, and to maintain a respectful tone of voice as I recited to him my many sins, both minor and profound. That second time he was much stricter, more uncompromising, pacing before me, snapping the paddle against his palm now and then, telling me how disappointed he was, that I hadn’t met his high standards, and that though the paddle was going to hurt me, it was going to hurt him far, far more.
Of course, neither one of us believed that, and it had its intended effect, emphasizing, deepening the unfairness, the unequal power dynamic between us that was growing with every day. And it was that same dynamic that I dreamed of at night, that had me shoving my fingers into my pussy over and over again.
As each work day went on, the scenes, the tableaux replaying in my mind over and over again, it was all I could do not to stop and touch myself as I worked, to moan his name, ask for his forgiveness, and ask him for more, to punish me, to hurt me, to make me his, even if it meant breaking me completely.
