Come to Me

"Come to me," he calls to me from another room, urgently, as though there's a fire. I stand up and stretch cat-like, working all the kinks and knots out of my shoulders and back so that he can work his kinks and knots out with my flesh. He'll leave the marks of his desire and frustration on my skin.

"On your knees," he commands, as I arrive in the room before him. I should have known that, should have crawled into the room and prostrated myself before him, before his magnificent cock. He'll punish me now.

I kneel in front of him, head down, waiting for some sign from him, a word, a touch, something that signals his desire. His fingers stroke my cheek, then pull my chin up so he can look into my eyes.

"You've been a bad, bad girl today, haven't you, slut?" He reaches down to pinch my left nipple, hard.

My eyes fill with tears as I nod slowly, I know he's not pleased. "Yes, I have, and I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, but I..."

He interrupts my tears with a stinging slap. "I don't want your excuses. I ask for so little. Just fear me, love me, do as I say... lay down across my knees."

I do, and he pulls my short cotton skirt up past my hips. "No panties today? I don't recall asking for that." He spanks me, once, twice, five times across the ass, but I don't cry out. Again and again his hand rises and falls, turning my skin bright red, almost purple in some places. My breath is coming in short, harsh bursts and his hand slows, parts my legs and his fingers caress my bare pussy lips. "This is turning you on, isn't it? I feel how wet you are. It turns you on when I hurt you, doesn't it, slut?"

It does. He knows it does. He wouldn't want me otherwise.

"On your knees! I'm unhappy, little bitch - how will you make it up to me?"

I know what he wants, what he means, so I lift my head, open my mouth wide and beg him with my eyes - beg him to unzip his jeans, take his cock out, and give it to me.

He tugs his zipper down, reaches in and pulls his already hard dick out slowly. He wants to tease me a little, and so strokes himself a time or two, and caresses my face with his soft, hot skin. "You want it bad, huh?" I do. He knows I do. "Close your mouth." He rubs the head of his cock across my lips, warning me not to open my mouth again until he demands it. I smell his musky scent, so close to me, so tantalizing. I lick my lips to taste the pre-come he left there, and I feel myself start to grow wetter for him, though he's hardly touched me.

He tangles his fingers in my hair and all at once pushes his cock between my lips, as far back as he can, gagging me. He pushes in further, until the head slips into my throat, my nose pressed up against his skin, my eyes watering a little, but never leaving his. I close my mouth around him, sucking softly.

"That's it, pretty girl," he says, "but this time I'm going to fuck your face - don't you move."

I don't, I won't, I don't think I could if I tried.

He thrusts in and out, gently at first, but with increasing ardor and force. "Oh, that's good, fuck yes," he groans, his fists tightening in my hair. I lose myself in the rhythm of his hips, back and forth, in and out, my mouth, my throat, open to him.

His head thrown back, he growls his pleasure to me, never once stopping or slowing down his movement in and out of my mouth. "You like this, don't you, you little whore? My pretty little whore? You love this thick, hot cock in your mouth, don't you? Let me do anything I want to you, let me choke you with it if I'm of a mind to." The only answer he gets or expects is the way I tighten my lips around him and begin to suck him harder, more urgently. "Mmmm, don't you stop, bitch, don't you slow down, I'm going to come all on your pretty pink tongue, in your virginal little mouth, and you know what will happen if you spill a drop, don't you? You'd better take it all tonight, little girl." He knows I will.

He's close to coming faster than usual tonight, perhaps because he's been away and unable to use my body the way he likes to. The way I need him to. He stops abruptly and pulls out, grasping his glistening dick in a fist and pumping up and down, faster, faster, until the first spurt of whiteness drops hotly from him onto my waiting, eager tongue. His hand falls away now and grabs a handful of my hair from the back, and that's my signal to take him back into my mouth, to milk him for every drop of his creamy come.

He smiles when I finish lapping up the last of it, pulls me to my feet and kisses me softly. "I love you," he says at last, "but I've got work to do. Go."

And I do, until the next time he calls for me.