I had no way to keep track of the time. My body started to calm down, resting against the chair instead of fighting against the restraints that held my forearms and thighs to the seat. Just when my tense, sweat coated body finally relaxed, I would remember the events that had led up to this.
First I had misbehaved at the grocery store, letting men eye fuck me, and flashing my panties at them. Later, at home, I had fucked myself, without permission, and even had the audacity to orgasm. I remembered grunting, sweat dripping down my face, rocking my hips onto the substantial dildo while I straddled the chair.
'No... stop... don't think about it.' I chastised myself, biting my lip. In my mind, I was replaying the scenario; getting good and fucked while pretending that other men were watching me. 'oh....' I moaned in my head, feeling my cunt betray me and begin to drip at the thought.
I writhed on the chair, now straddled across the seat. I could still feel the damp spot, evidence of my squirting orgasm earlier. 'Oh my god,' I thought, still mystified, thrilled, confused, and terrified of the experience. 'It felt so good... but... it did feel like I peed myself, a hot stream shot out of my pussy. I felt it gushing over my fingertips as I rubbed my clit...'
My heart started picking up it's pace, and I could feel my pussy begin to salivate with desire. 'Why are you doing this to yourself?!' I reprimanded myself, even as I moved my hips as if against an invisible lover, 'why are you thinking about how good it felt? Stop!'
The ongoing internal struggle between my inner slut goddess, the free, powerful, all consuming cunt; and between my sensible mind, the social facade that I had struggled to fit into all my life raged inside me. The battle never ended, and it was made worse by my current position.
Finally, after who knows how long of laying, feeling the bruises on my ass and back fade from throbbing stings, to dull aches; I broke.
Tears came to my eyes as I felt myself losing to my frustration, and the burning desire in my womb. Without any shame, I quietly cried, blubbering like a little kid who was told they couldn't have any more sweets. I was finally exhausted by my exertion against the straps, the beating I had endured, and the physical strain of climbing a mountain of arousal again and again, with no climax to relieve the pressure.
As time kept dragging by, I grew more and more exhausted. Now, not only was my body drained, but my emotions had been put through the ringer as well. I finally lay, quietly, my eyes wet, but not leaking. My breathing even and calm.
I didn't quite believe it when I heard voices coming closer. I was drifting in my own hazy thoughts, and didn't fully realize what was happening until my Master was standing beside me.
Slowly, stiff and sore from my time spent tied to the chair, I stretched out, moaning a bit and softly mumbling, "I'm sorry I'm such a greedy cunt, daddy, I'm sorry..."
He paid me no attention, but I noticed the other man when he turned to my Master and said, "Look at that, you were right, she is something."
I groaned louder, my body trying in vain to lift off the chair, I couldn't help myself. Something about the voice sounded familiar...but I couldn't place it.
"Yes.... I'm about at my wits end, though." came my Master's deep reply. His words made me shudder and struggle harder, "She can't follow directions, she can't keep her slutty mind off of dicks, or stop her greedy pussy from coming. I'm thinking the best course of action is to treat her like the fucking slut she is."
Now I was alert, hanging on their words, my pussy already responding to the prospect of being treated like a whore.
The other man chuckled, and through his laugh said, "Looks like she likes that idea too. Guess I'll set up over here, eh?"
Before I could process what that meant, they were both moving with purpose around the room. Over my shoulder, I was able to see Master rummaging through his drawer of punishment, the other man I immediately recognized.
It was a man I used to work with, named W, someone about who my Master knew I had fantasized. I had never understood why; he was older, had shown only a professional interest in me. Yet, I had often thought, thrilled at the naughtiness, about showing him what I was.
He was over across the room, setting up a camera on a tripod. The red light was on, and he was positioning the camera to focus on me, making sure my exposed pussy was clearly on display.
My heart seemed to drop, and my stomach twisted in excitement and embarrassment. I began to struggle in earnest against the chair, moaning, twisting my face away, but unable to stop moving my hips.
Master's deep rumbling chuckle made me moan more. He loved teasing me, and he knew how torn I was between unleashing the inner slut, and hiding the wild desire. I stilled, but my body continued to gently undulated to my own inner rhythm.
