She was thankful it was still spring and not summer, since it meant she had worn a light jacket to his place earlier that evening. Now, she pulled it tighter around her chest, not to ward off the chilly night air, but to cover herself. She was keenly aware that her nipples were still rock hard, and, braless, that they could be seen through the skimpy blouse she was wearing. It was her thoughts and memories of what had just occurred that was causing her current state. As she strode quickly towards her car, her mind returned over and over to those recent memories and she knew she needed to do something about the wetness between her legs. But she could not.
It was late – early morning, actually – so traffic was light and she had time to re-play the evening's scenes as she slid into her driver's seat and started on her way home. It had begun with his words, as it always did. His words, she considered, had some unknown power to them; the ability to make her weak and desperate and willing to do whatever it took to have more of them. And so, when he had quite plainly called her a slut yet again, and told her it was time for her to face him as one, she had given in with little resistance. She had, after all, begun to accept that he was right; that it was time to accept her nature and desires. As usual, he had made her feel controlled and forced, and yet willing and eager at the same time. And so, she had done as he'd commanded.
Beneath her clothes, she had dressed as he had requested and seen in one of her photos; a black bra and thong panties. Over top, he had simply said, "Dress in what you think might please me. Wear what a fuck slut like you should wear." She had groaned inwardly at this, both in pleasure and in shame, and had chosen her clothing carefully. Although not entirely comfortable in it, she knew the fact of her obvious discomfort would amuse him, and this aroused her further.
She had looked in her full-length bedroom mirror before leaving and had seen someone not quite herself; someone wearing a very short black skirt and an almost sheer black blouse, several buttons undone to display her ample cleavage. Her legs were bare, save the silver bracelet on her left ankle, and her accessories were more silver; high-heeled mules which added several inches to her height and forced her body to display itself, and a few simple pieces of jewellery. To complete the effect, she added a brief spritz of perfume and applied a little more makeup than she would normally wear – she felt this would complete the image he wished to see.
When he had opened his door to her, she had sensed the very briefest sensation of his approval. His eyes had scanned her quickly, and a slight upturn at one corner of his mouth had given him away in that second... but then it was gone and his eyes were boring into hers. She, of course, was the first to drop her gaze. She heard the power in his voice as her eyelids fluttered downwards and he spoke, "That's better, slut. You are to keep your gaze lowered and your voice silenced unless I request you to do otherwise. You are here for my amusement. Do you understand?" She nodded, and he spoke again, "Say it. Tell me you're a fuck slut who came here for my amusement."
Every logical wiring in her brain was screaming at her to curse him and storm away, but she knew, as did he, that she would not. That she could not. Her desire was too evident; her submission had been offered even before she had arrived at his door. And so, the words fell from her mouth, all slippery and wet; "I'm a fuck slut who came here for your amusement." He moved his hand to her chin to raise her eyes to his again. His were steady and hard, and his words made her stomach flip; "Good little bitch."
He motioned for her to follow him and her heels clicked against the hardwood as she focused on placing one foot ahead of the other. He led her to what appeared to be the living room, on the floor of which was a small pillow sitting squarely in the middle of the room. It was impossible for her attention not to focus on it immediately, for it seemed out of place in an otherwise tidy and neatly-arranged space.
His eyes watched hers; he knew she was attempting to make sense of everything, and he enjoyed her mild confusion. He smiled to himself and spoke again.
"The pillow? Yes, it may end up yours. For now, it is only a marker, not an accessory to assist your comfort. If you earn it, you may kneel on it some day. At the moment, however..." Here, he bent down and lifted the pillow from its spot, "At the moment, you will happily take its place. On your knees, where you belong, slut."
Her heart pounded in her chest, but she obeyed silently. She knelt carefully, sitting back on her heels. His voice came again.
"Good girl. But... it's not quite what I wanted. Yet. Raise your arms, slut." Every time she heard this word, she resented the warm feeling that travelled below her tummy. She lifted her arms, however, and heard him step forward. He reached to her waist – to the hem of her blouse – and pulled it up and off of her, tossing it aside. She bit her bottom lip, feeling immediately exposed and uncertain. His hand moved to the back of her neck, where she felt slight pressure pushing her forward, down. She resisted a moment, then remembered her place and gave in to his push. She placed her hands to the floor and, within little time, found her forehead against the cool hardwood, back bent inwards, ass in the air. The pounding of her heart had moved to fill her entire head, and her skin felt both hot and cold. The loss of sight, having her head to the floor, further disoriented her, and she swallowed dryly.
One of his hands was at her ass, and she realized he was going to lift her skirt... but then he seemed to reconsider and drew his hand away. His voice came again, from behind her.
"I was going to do this myself, but I think I want you to do it for me, slut. I want you to do it, because I think you want to. In fact, I know you do. Now, reach back and raise your skirt for me. I want you to be a good toy and show me your ass." She could hear the taunting tone in his voice, as well as the confidence. She reached and did as she was told, concentrating on not allowing him to see her trembling hands. Her skirt was up around her waist, and her ass was held high. He reached and pulled at her thong tightly, making it look like it was splitting her in two. She held her breath as she heard him step back.
"Much better, slut. Now, tell me how you feel. How does it feel to know that you chose to come here? That you are giving in to what you really want? That you are my slutty little toy, with your face to the floor and your ass in the air? Hmm? Tell me."
Her mouth felt filled with sand, but she licked her lips once in an attempt to combat this and found her voice. It sounded as if it were coming from outside of her.
