Harsh Phonecall for an Eager Slut

"Take off your pants, slut," she heard Him say. Cradling the phone between her neck and shoulder, she quickly obeyed, gushing at His endearment for her, knowing He would use her hard.

"If it pleases You, my Sir," she answered, as she wriggled free of her low-riders, leaving her bare from the waist down. "They're off, my Sir", she said.

"I know they're off, bitch," he told her, his voice vaguely harsh. "When i give You something to do, i expect that it will be done immediately. Is this expecting too much of you?" He asked the question like it was a command, and a thrill ran through her.

"Not if it does not please You, my Sir." she answered placatingly, standing in the middle of the room in only her dark purple bra and tank top, hugging her heavy breasts. Her nipples were hard, aching for attention, but her hands did not even move to stray. He would tell her where and when to touch herself, and He never left her wanting.

"Good slut," He said, "Is your sex wet?"

"If it pleases You, my Sir, it is very wet, my Sir. And thank You." she loved it when He told her she was good. So long as He was pleased with her, she was infinitely happy.

"Good girl," he told her again. "On the bed, slut. MOVE!" She scrambled to obey, nearly tripping over herself in the process, her sex gushing at His commanding tone. "Wet, slut?" He asked her, as she knelt in the middle of the bed.

"If it pleases You, my Sir," she breathed.

"Good," he said, "I am pleased. Tell me where you are," He instructed her.

"Kneeling, my Sir, on my bed."

"What?" her mind raced for a second. she knew by his tone that he was not pleased, but had heard her. She cast about for what she might have done wrong, and realized her error quickly.

"Your slut is kneeling in the middle of the bed, my Sir," she corrected.

"Kneeling, slut?" He smiled to himself. she was an eager and intelligent girl, and He was happily surprised she was kneeling for Him.

"If it pleases You, my Sir," she answered, desperately hoping that it would please Him.

"This pleases Me," He said. "Perhaps i'll play with you tonight, little slut." she froze instantly, her breath catching, disappointed. she had assumed that He would play with her.

He chuckled softly, laughing at her reaction.

"You should have heard your breath freeze, slut," He said to her. "Do you want me to play with you, slut?"

"If it pleases You, my Sir, yes. Your slut would like You to play with her tonight," she answered, hopefully.

"What was that, slut?"

"Please, my Sir," she answered, gushing, trembling at the thought of being denied. "If it pleases You, my Sir, please play with Your slut? Please, my Sir?"

"Very well, slut. Three fingers, NOW! Hard and fast, into that greedy cunt," He said, harshly. she complied immediately, slamming her fingers inside of herself, wet noises reaching all the way to the receiver of the phone. her breath caught in her throat as she did so, and she heard her Sir "Hmm" in appreciation. she knew He loved her sounds, and it heightened her pleasure further, stoking her ferverent need to please Him.

"Harder, slut," he demanded, "Did i tell you to fuck it gently?" She groaned and fucked in and out of her wet sex harder, scrambling her wits as she tried to figure out how to answer His question. Whether to say "If it pleases You, my Sir," to "harder," or "Not if it does not please You, my Sir," to the question of whether or not He'd asked her to fuck it getnly.

He realized her conundrum, but enjoyed her squirming, enjoyed the opportunity to punish her, either way she answered. And He knew she enjoyed it, too, being caught between a rock and a hard place, like that.

"Fingernail into your clit, NOW!" she obeyed immediately, yelping as the thin crescent met

her tender flesh.

"Ow, oh, oh," she breathed, unable to help herself, groaning in pain, moaning in pleasure.

She calmed her breathing, feeling close to cumming, and knowing it would not please her Sir at all, were she to cum without His express permission.

"Push that nail in harder, little slut, NOW!" she complied immediately, and again, yelped in response.

"Ow!" she cried, panting, gushing and wishing she had had the sense to begin her begging earlier.

"My Sir - " she breathed, trying to catch her breath, her heart beating wildly in her chest. He knew exactly what she wanted, and exactly how far He wanted to push her, so He cut off her request.

"You little fucking slut. Whore. You enjoy that, don't you? You enjoy the pain, don't you, little whore?" He asked her, knowing full well that simply talking to her like this could bring her to orgasm, that making her say it back to him was a thrill that could set her eager little mind racing every time.

"If it pleases You, my Sir," she answered, fighting her urge to cum, straining against the ripples building in her sex, radiating from behind her tortured clit. "my Sir," she began again, "my Sir, can Your-" Again, he cut her off.

"Say it, whore, say You love the pain, slut. Tell me how You feel about being my little fucking whore." He demanded, loving the sharp intake of her breath as He did so, knowing full well that she was fighting tooth and nail to hold back her orgasm.

"If it pleases You, my Sir," she gasped, moaning and gulping for air, "my Sir, i love the pain, my Sir, i love my fingernail digging into my clit, my Sir." she stopped speaking, her moans becoming whimpers, cries in her throat, accompanied by deep breaths drawn through clenched teeth and flared nostrils. "Ow, mmm, huuuh," she panted for a moment, "If it pleases You, my Sir, i love being Your little fucking whore, my Sir. my Sir, can Your little slut cum, please, my Sir? Please? Please, my Sir, please? Please?" He could hear the desperation in her voice, the overwhelming need to cum.

"NO!" He said loudly, ensuring that she could hear Him over the noises coming from her own throat. "Curl your fingers and dig that fingernail in deep, slut! Fuck that cunt hard, My little whore." He laughed at the loud whimpers which greeted His answer. He loved making her hold back. He knew her orgasms were better when she did. Especially when coupled with his verbal barrage. He knew, too, despite her cries, that she loved torture of being denied, so long as she got to cum in the end.

"You little fucking whore," he teased her, "You think i would let you cum that easily? You didn't answer me properly earlier, and now you're paying for it. Don't you think that's a wonderful idea, whore?"

"Auh," she whimpered, desperate, aching, thrilling, "If it pleases You, my Sir, yes." she answered Him.

"You wouldn't feel like a proper whore if i let You off so easily, and I take more pride in what I do to you than that. Spread those fingers, bitch." He smiled, knowing she both hated and secretly loved this command. It was hard on her fingers, and stretched her sex painfully, but she loved that pain. He knew this, knew it by her beautiful, horny whimpers, which were music to His ears.

He wasn't sure which she loved more, the pain, which made her gush, or the act of submitting, itself. He sensed that He could phone her up at any moment and instruct her to do anything at all, and so long as it was in a harsh tone of voice, He suspected she'd gush. He loved this about her, loved her desire to please Him, her will to do His bidding, no matter what pain it brought her. He knew she loved the pain, though, too, and had known immediately, when T/they met, that she was a painslut, though she'd had no idea at the time, and vehemently denied it when asked.

Her breathing came faster and harder, her fingers working hard and fast in and out of her soaking wet sex, her thumbnail grinding painfully into her clit, not quite able to escape impacting it every time her fingers pounded back into her. her moisture ran down each thigh and pooled on the bed at her knees, and she thought, delightedly, how happy He would be to see the twin wet-spots forming on the crisp, clean sheets. This thought nearly drove her over the edge, and she resumed her pleading, desperate for release.

"Please, my Sir, please, please, can Your slut cum, please, my Sir? Pleeee-eee-eease, please, please, my Sir." He was satisfied with the desperation in her voice, but needed to add one more log to the fire for His own satisfaction.

"Harder, slut! Fuck that greedy little cunt as if it were Me fucking You. Dig that nail in""

"Aaahhhhhh-ow!!" she cried, knowing He loved the sound of her cries, and truthfully, unable to help it anyways, "If" and she panted, "it" she gasped, moaning, fighting, "pleases You, my Sir," she rushed through the rest of the sentence, and tried desperately to think of anything else but the wet heat between her legs, the force of the need to orgasm crashing in her sex, desperate, demanding release.

"CUM!" He instructed her, loudly, and she wailed, releasing her pent up desire, washing her sex and hand and thighs with her wetness, moaning and writhing as wave after wave rocked through her body, glowing with her efforts at having held back, and moaning in her joy at release.

"Thank You, my Sir!" she cried as she came, almost sobbing, feeling happy and fulfilled. As she floated back down from where she'd exploded, it felt, into a million pieces, she heard Him saying to her, as if from some place far away...

"You're far from done yet, slut. Lick those fingers clean and get them back inside of that cunt, NOW!" she happily, gratefully obeyed.