Saturday, 19 April 2008

Beg Me

"Get on the table, on your back," he said. I clambered onto the table-top, a little light-headed, and propped myself up on my elbows. He walked over slowly and deliberately. "Spread your legs," he told me, and awkwardly I responded, always uneasy at putting myself on display in such a way, even to somebody familiar, even to somebody I had promised to please. A wicked grin spread across his face as he told me to spread them wider...wider...wider, until I made a sound of muffled annoyance from beneath the black tape across my mouth. I tried to squeak the syllabals that I could not possibly go any farther. He paused and ran his eyes over my body, shaking his head, "Such a slut..." I felt my face redden and let myself fall back flat onto the surface so that I could cover my face with my hands. He moved in closer and I brought my hips up to meet his hand. I moaned as he pinched and tugged on my labia, "Whose slut are you?" My breathing quickened and I tried to make a noise that sounded like,

"I am yours, Sir," he pinched harder and I yelped,

"Look at me," he said, so I propped myself up again and fixed my eyes on his, and through the tape, I tried to repeat, "Yours,". Without ever breaking our gaze, he slowly, leisurely, slid his cock into my pussy. A rush of pleasure surged through me, and my hips began to buck against him. Lazily he moved in and out of me, ordering me to hold myself still, until pleading sounds of frustration escaped my sealed lips. He reached in towards me and tore the tape from my mouth, I cried out, but was soon silenced as he pressed his lips firmly onto mine. I kissed him back, longing for him to stop teasing me, for him to fuck me harder. Gently his mouth moved across my cheek and to my neck. As he began to kiss and lick the patch of skin just below my ear, he gently whispered to me, "Beg me to fuck your arse..." My entire body stiffened, and yet even as I replied to him that I could not do that, he was still fucking my pussy slowly, distractingly...I bit my lip and moaned, and could no longer prevent myself from moving against him. "I won't tell you again," he said. I looked up at him, but hesitated as I was about to speak. Suddenly he slapped his hand hard against my cheek, hard enough that I fell back and that my eyes watered. I was too stunned to speak or move. Eventually, I looked up at him, and quietly said to him,

"I don't think I can ask you to do that, Sir," Without a word, he withdrew from me and grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled me off the table. I cried out in pain,

"Beg me, slut," he said.

Still the words did not come, and finally he told me that if I would not beg, then I would not speak at all, then he forced his cock into my mouth. His hands cupped the back of my head, and he began to fuck my face so hard that I gagged. He ignored my strained cries, and my small hands around his wrists, which made little difference, as he is so much stronger than I. The dark makeup I had smudged around my eyes now began to stream down my cheeks. Finally he pulled my head back and told me to open my mouth. Immediately I obeyed, looking up at him from beneath lashes of running mascara, eagerly awaiting the taste of him in my mouth.

He watched me carefully lick my fingers and my lips clean, "I think I like you best with black streaks down your face," he said, "And I am going to ask you again tomorrow, think about what you will say, because there are worse things than running mascara."

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You kiss your mother with that mouth?