What a Slut Needs, Ch. 4 - Sex Stories

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What a Slut Needs, Ch. 4

Date: 11/7/2017, Categories: BDSM, Author: jack795, Rating: 0, Source: LushStories

she causes. No more freelancing, do you understand?" "See. I told you," her inner whore pipes up. "He knows what you are. He's known since that first day in the lift." "I...I..." she hesitates. "There is no 'I' about it, little slut. Just 'yes' or 'no' . 'Sir' or 'Master' ." "Yes, Master," she peeps contritely. "Good. Now tell me what punishment you think you deserve?" Like Marcy did in her bad dream, she licks his shiny black shoe-top in full submission. "Please, Sir, spare me no mercy. I deserve none." With purpose in his eyes, he removes his trouser belt, folds it in half, then menacingly grazes the looped end over her cheek. "It's the lash you crave, isn't it?" Her inner whore whispers, "See how he knows you. You'd better tell the truth." "Yes, Master," she admits. "Well now," he muses. "And it's that whore-sized clit that craves it the most, isn't it?" "Yes, Sir," she replies with rising anticipation. He pauses while her heart pounds, then he says, "In that case it will be your ass today. Sluts seldom get what they want. Isn't that right?" "Yes, Sir," she answers with disappointment. "Whatever pleases you, my Master." "Well now, we're getting some where ," he huffs, as his belt snaps one skirted ass cheek right on the word 'where' . Then follows to the opposite cheek with the same. Shaking, she lets out a soft, "Thank you, Sir." "Hike that skirt up," he barks, and s he reaches back, pulls it up in bunches onto her back. "And down with the thong," he adds. Lifting her ... head slightly, she wiggles her bottom and slides the thong halfway down her thighs. Immediately, he pushes her head back down. "Stick to your licking, little whore." "Yes, Sir," she coos, her tongue quickly back on leather. The butt-plug snuggles between her lush mounds as t he belt keeps coming, smacks the flesh red. Side shots send waves of ass-flesh colliding. Soon her eyes glaze, her mouth slackens, her licking subsides. All of her sensory input is channeling through her ass. "This is what you need most," her inner whore reminds, "thank him, thank him..." But she is soon overwhelmed and blissfully blanking out. Through her haze she sees that he is now sitting spread-eagled on the edge of his chair with no pants, no shoes, no suit jacket. Just an unbuttoned shirt and his heavy cock and balls, seemingly disembodied, suspended in midair. And there on her knees and elbows with her wrists cuffed, he twists her hair tightly into a ponytail, seizes it over his knee. "You have much to learn," he gruffs, his persistent precum oozing inches from her face. "Don't miss a drop," he instructs as he draws her head closer to it by the ponytail. V oraciously her tongue is on it instantly, but he pushes her head back. " E-e-easy , slut," he warns. "Wait for the bead to form, then use only the tip of your tongue." "Yes, Master," she answers breathily, eager to please. Then, as another globule appears, she parks her tongue tip beneath it and waits for it to descend on its own, all while she ...