Homewor

I shouldn't have to add a disclaimer, but......consent is key, and even though this story is a fantasy, you should assume that safe words, informed consent, and a healthy, trusting relationship are involved

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"Kitten, come do your homework."

I feel my pussy clench as I hear your voice from the other room, the sewing I'd been doing immediately forgotten in my sudden panic. Oh god, homework? I forgot about homework, I haven't thought about what I'm going to write, I wasn't even thinking about it at all today, what am I going to....

"Kitten, now!"

Fuck. Oh, I am so fucked. I hurry to grab my toy bag from the bedroom, pulling my top off as I go, and then practically sprint to the kitchen.

You'd instituted homework time a few months ago, after coming home one day to find me curled up in a miserable ball on the couch, an accusingly blank word document glowing from my laptop screen, tears in my eyes.

"I can't do it." I'd sobbed, while you held me and stroked my hair. "I just stare at the screen and....nothing. I used to love this, and now I just.....can't."

"It" was the erotica I used to write, my favorite creative outlet, one I'd developed as a shy, socially awkward university student with no concept of how to talk to guys, let alone how to ask them for the things I secretly needed, that I craved. I'd masked my way through polite, sweet, dates with gentle, sensitive guys, sometimes even convincing myself that the polite, sweet, vanilla sex they would give me afterwards would be enough for me, that maybe I wouldn't have to fake my orgasm this time. And every time I'd come home, unsatisfied, and write my filthiest, smuttiest fantasies of how I'd wished my night had gone, working myself up until I'd finally cum all over my fingers, wishing what I'd written was real, and then uploading it so others could read it as well, getting myself off all over again at their comments and replies.

And then I'd met you. You, who knew exactly what I needed, what I craved, and knew how to give it to me. And suddenly I didn't need to write anymore, found I

couldn't

write. I'd try, missing the satisfying feeling of the swirling fantasies and scenes flowing out of my mind into words, missing the praise and validation of others enjoying what I'd created, but it was like a dried up stream, and nothing would come.

That's when you'd decided I needed homework time.

"Better hurry, Kitten," you say, one eyebrow raised as I rush into the kitchen and hand you my remote control, "dinner won't take long tonight."

My homework is always to write an erotic short story, and I need to finish my homework by the time dinner is ready. I also have to write it at the kitchen table, I have to write it topless, and I have to have my little remote control vibrator tucked into my panties. Those are the rules, and I know them very well. You'd explained them to me that night you found me crying, reminded me of them again the next night when you'd announced it was my first homework time.

The first time that I forgot a rule and tried to start writing before putting my vibrator in my panties, you'd shoved me down over the table, pulled my pants down, and spanked me til my ass cheeks were red with your handprints, my ass lifting to your touch as I moaned and squirmed. Then you'd slowly pushed a lubed up plug into my ass, looked up at the clock, and told me I better get writing because the fryer oil was already hot and dinner was going to be very soon.

I didn't manage to finish my homework in time that night. We both know what finished means, because I can't make myself write badly in order to beat the timer. I want to actually write something good, something that makes us both hot, something that's a gift to you and therefore shouldn't be rushed. Even when I know I'm going to get punished if I don't finish in time, I'm still going to do the best job I can.

That night, punished meant having to stop to eat dinner, and then, after dinner, being stripped naked, clamps put on my nipples, and shoved over the kitchen sink so I could wash the dishes while you played with my pussy. I wasn't allowed to cum and you kept telling me I better wash those dishes fast because a greedy little slut like me would be in even more trouble if I came while being punished. I came anyway, and you just kept toying with me, sliding your fingers in and out of my grasping pussy, stroking my swollen clit, growling in my ear about what a good little whore I was. I came several times before I managed to get my shaky legs under me long enough to wash the last plate.

That's when you pulled me back to the table, opened the laptop, and told me to finish what I'd written. I did, your eyes on me, your hand slowly stroking your cock as you watched me. It didn't take long, I'd been so close. I'd almost made it.

Then it was time for you to read my homework. Normally you do that while I suck your cock, but I was being punished so instead I had to sit in your lap and read it out loud to you while you pinched my nipples and spanked my pussy.

"Why are you cumming, Kitten?" you'd taunted me when my voice faltered for the third time. "This is a punishment, you shouldn't be cumming. Greedy little slut can't help herself."

When I finally finished reading it to you, that's when you'd shoved me down over the table and fucked me hard, slamming that big cock into me as I moaned and begged and came on it again and again til you filled me with all of your cum.

I'd tried to get up afterwards, exhausted, aching, but you'd pushed me back down, your hand on my neck as you started fingering my pussy again, shoving your cum deeper into me and sliding the pads of your fingers across my g spot so I'd clench around them, whimpering and squirming because I was so sensitive.

"Please, daddy....."

"No, Kitten. This is your punishment for not finishing your homework. Take your punishment like a good girl."

So I'd moaned and held still, trying so hard to be good for you as you forced another orgasm from my overstimulated body, and then another, and another, til I started crying, then screaming, then struggling as the pleasure became a knife edge of ecstasy and pain all rolled into one, my swollen cunt squirting all over your fingers as you called me a good girl, a good little fucktoy, your pretty little slut, til I finally saw stars behind my eyes and then nothingness, my brain overloading and shutting down.

I'd come back to myself a moment later, wrapped in your arms as you stroked my back and told me how proud you were, how well I'd taken my punishment.

I still shiver with a mix of fear and longing when I think about that night.

Tonight, as I sit at the table, my nipples all swollen and hard for you to look at, my pussy already wet around the toy that you're controlling in between chopping potatoes, I try not to think of the punishments I've earned, of what might happen to me tonight if I don't finish in time. I have no idea what to write, my mind a total blank, and my heart is racing as I stare at the laptop screen. I don't want to fail.

Sometimes, the words come easily. It doesn't always mean I finish in time - I still have to not cum so many times that I get distracted, that I forget what I was writing. I still have to hope you don't make the toy go too fast, and that dinner isn't a short cooking time. But if I succeed, if I finish my homework on time, that's when I get rewarded. That's what I'm hoping for tonight. Because rewarded means I get to suck your cock while you read what I wrote. It means when you're done reading, you'll pin me to the bed with your lips and tongue on my clit, your hands on my tits, and I'll cum all over your mouth, my hands in your hair and my legs squeezing your shoulders as I do. It means feeling your thick cock stretching me open as your hands cradle my face, your voice ordering me to keep my eyes open, to look at you while I cum. It means feeling incandescent with pleasure, filled with it, waves of it rolling over me with every thrust of your cock, every touch of your lips, cumming for you when you order me to, keeping my eyes on yours as long as I can, til they roll back in my head and I cry out, my core tightening, my pussy milking your cock, my breath catching as I hear your groan and feel your cum spill inside me, claiming me as yours, reminding me who I belong to as you wrap me into your arms, your cock still inside me, softening now, and call me your good girl.

I'm still staring at the laptop, struggling to find the words, desperately trying to think of what to write, and with every passing minute I feel the panic setting in, the memories of the times you've punished me crowding my brain, pushing everything else out so all I can think of is you spanking my swollen wet cunt, over and over, my legs and arms tied to the kitchen table so I can't get away, so I have to take it, so you can punish me as long as you wa......

My brain clicks, and I gasp, my fingers flying to the keyboard. Oh god, have I left it too late? I have enough time to finish writing, I must have enough time. I just have to write fast.

I keep that hope as you turn up the little remote vibrator and I cum for the first time, losing track of time, of what I was writing. I keep hoping as I take deep breaths and find the right sentence again, trying not to look up at you so I don't get sucked into your eyes, to you watching me cum, to the way you follow my tits as they jiggle when I squirm, my hard nipples on display, the way your jaw clenches and I know what you're thinking of doing to me......

No. Don't look. Just write. Just be a good girl and finish my homework.

I manage another paragraph before the vibrator gets the best of me again and I whimper, writhing against it as I try to stay focused.

You turn the vibrator up another level and this time I do meet your eyes, see the heat in them, and it pushes me over the edge, my hands desperately gripping the edge of the table as I cum, squeezing my legs together and struggling to stay upright.

When I can breathe again, I look up to see you plating dinner, then back down at the laptop where my measly few paragraphs taunt me. I feel my face flush and a swirl of emotions rushes through me. Anticipation, fear, shame, excitement, and through it all that deep thread of need, the overwhelming need for what you do to me.

When I look up again, you're putting our plates in the oven, the dial set to "warm". I shiver, and then moan softly as you step up behind me, your arms surrounding me as you lean in to read over my shoulder.

"When I don't finish my homework, Daddy punishes me. Sometimes it's a spanking, sometimes it's edging me for hours, sometimes it's making me cum til I can't think. But I think the one that makes me dread punishment the most, the one that he knows makes me feel dirty and shameful, that makes me cum so hard even though I don't want to, is when he fucks my ass."

I squirm in my seat, caged in by your arms.

"That's not much written, is it?"

I shake my head, my pulse fluttering.

"Someone's been a bad girl tonight, hasn't she?"

I nod, stifling a whimper.

"Get up, little slut."

You've stepped back from me and as I shakily stand, I see you grabbing the bottle of olive oil from the cupboard.

Oh fuck.

You bend me over the table, my skirt flipped up, and kick my legs apart so I'm totally exposed. I whine as I feel the cool olive oil dripping onto my asshole, and then gasp as you press your cock into it, shoving in hard, giving me no time to adjust so the stretching sensation that normally feels so darkly pleasurable is bordering on pain. My hands scrabble at the table as you bottom out with one swift thrust, instinctively trying to escape the burning, violating feeling, til you grab them and pull them behind my back, holding my wrists tight with one hand while your other slides around my throat and presses lightly there.

"Take a breath, Kitten," you purr in my ear, "this is going to be a long night for you."

Hours later, sore, aching, cum in all my holes, my body a mess of bruises, I'm drifting in your arms, contented, and I smile a little to myself. I know exactly what I'll write for my next homework.