He calls me cunt because that's all I am to him. A cunt for him to do as he pleases with. I have no name, I have no face, I have no purpose but to serve him.
"Cunt!" he yells through the house. "Get your slutty little twat over here."
I scuttle into the kitchen where he stands, looking at me with disapproval. "What the hell is this?" he demands. I look around but am uncertain to what the problem is. Everything looks to be in place.
He grabs my hair and yanks my head downward. "This," he tells me, showing me the scuff marks on the floor. "Get down there and clean this shit up." Then he throws me to the ground, smushes me to the ground with his booted foot, and throws a wet rag on top of my naked body.
I don't wear clothes around the house, I'm not allowed. I am a cunt and that's all I am- so why would I cover that up? Why would I be modest? I do as my master tells me to and parade my shaved cunt around wherever I go. He tells me several times a day that it's the only piece of me worth a dime. And even then, it's worth just about that.
I wash the floor on my hands and knees, my blond hair dragging in the mud while my master looks on amused. It gives him pleasure to see me in pain or humiliated. I keep my body close to the floor, knowing that if I lift it too much, I will be punished. Sure enough, I am too high off the ground and his boot comes down on me once again. "I want your tits to drag bitch." I lower myself both physically and with humility. I am his cunt. I must do as he commands.
"Who's little cunt are you?" he demands, as if reading my thoughts.
"Yours Sir," I answer promptly and with, I hope, the proper amount of humility.
"And what are you?"
"Your little cunt sir. To do with as you please."
The small kitchen floor is clean now and he orders me to roll over on my back. Then he takes the rag that I have been cleaning with and wrings it out over my body. The dirty cold water trickles over my belly and back onto the floor. "What will my little cunt do for me?"
"Anything that you ask, Sir."
"Lick up that water from the floor," he directs.
I reach my tongue out, quivering. I don't want to do it, but I know I must. Just as the tip of my tongue touches the dirty brown puddle, he shoves me again with his booted foot and I sail across the floor and land unceremoniously in a heap.
"That's enough," he orders. Although his tone is still sharp, I know I have pleased him by my willingness to obey him unquestioningly, "Now, mop it up with your hair. Keep your body low. Your tits to the floor," he reminds me.
As I use my shiny blond hair to sop up the muddy floor, I can't help but cry. I know this was meant to be better than being forced to lick the dirty floor clean with my tongue. Certainly, it is better. But I feel so humiliated, dragging my body over the floor and using my hair as a rag. Fat tears run down my face. I know I am not allowed to wipe them away without his permission so I continue the job he has assigned me.
"Aww. Is the little cunt crying?" he asks in mock sympathy. His voice is full of scorn and contempt. "I love a nice wet cunt. You know I do. Cry for me cunt. I want you dripping wet when I fuck you."
I try to cry silently, not giving him the satisfaction of my sobs and I am mainly successful. I finish the job and lay there on the ground dirty and humiliated, waiting for his instruction.
They come in a very physical way as he grabs my hair and pulls me up to my knees. A shiver goes through my body as I wonder what further abuse awaits me. Knowing my place, I keep my eyes low, focused on the floor at his feet. I hear rather than see him unzip, and then he reaches down and grabs my chin, pulling my face up toward him. He grasps his cock, hard and proud in his hand and wipes it forcefully over the tears on my face. I feel his organ twitch and grow still harder as he does so. "Oh yes," he says, "This cunt is going to be nice and wet when I fuck it."
Now he lets go of my chin and takes a hold of me by the sides of my head with a fistful of hair in each hand. "Open up cunt. I'm going to fuck you now." My mouth opens for his use and he inserts his throbbing cock past my lips. I have no time to lick or tease his cock-head as he immediately begins fucking my face, even as the tears continue to fall. I nearly gag, but he has trained me to take it deep into my throat and I do my best to relax and accept it.
"It's a filthy little cunt," he comments "but at least it's nice and wet." It is me that he refers to as 'it' as I am nothing but a thing to him, a cunt to use as he pleases. I am here for his pleasure and my own is incidental. Nothing more than a testament to his own prowess.
"That's it cunt," he tells me. "Every part of you is a cunt for me. Even your mouth is just another cunt for me to fuck. You're worthless as anything other than a cum rag, and you know it." My body is on fire as the sting of his words burns through me. An uncomfortable arousal is growing within me. I need this to feel free, to allow myself the pleasures that lay ahead if I please him. I need this, but it hurts just the same. I don't want to need it but I do. As the tears flow down my face, I can only hope that his words will become even more hurtful and humiliating. I need to take this abuse as much as he needs to give it. My nipples twist up almost painfully, as if to prove that there is pleasure in my pain.
"Choke on it bitch!" he screams as he rams his cock deeper into my throat. "Your pain is my pleasure. Choke on my thick cock." He rams it deep now, yanking my head in toward his stomach. The force is greater than I can bare now and I succumb, choking and sputtering on his forceful tool. He pulls out of me, pleased that he has overwhelmed me, knowing that I can endure no more.
"Does the little cunt want a proper fucking?" he asks disdainfully.
"Yes Sir," I answer, barely above a whisper.
