Patience Is Overrated

I've been waiting on him for hours, but per the usual he's late. I'm sitting on the couch, legs spread, touching myself when he finally arrives home.

"What do you think you're doing, bitch?" he asks.

I clothes my legs and stand up quickly. "I'm sorry, Sir."

I had thought he wasn't going to be home for a while longer. I had given up hope for anything tonight, ready to pass out from a long day, but needed release before I went to sleep.

He wastes no time, and is stripping off his belt before I have a chance to plead for mercy. A moan sounds from the television and he stops to stare at the screen.

"Porn?" He asks, his voice firm and unapologetically angry. "You're watching porn without permission."

I don't know what to say, I just hang my head.

"Your hands smell like pussy, have you been fucking yourself?"

For a moment I consider protesting, lying and saying that I had only just started to touch myself when he had arrive home, but I know there's no use. I nod my head slowly.

"Your pussy," he says, grabbing my hair and pulling my face to his, "belongs to me and me alone, do you understand that you slut?"

"Yes, sir" I say.

He sits down on the living room chair, "bend over!"

It's an order, not a request, and not an order I'm overly fond of.

I bend over his lap, and the leather of his belt grazes my stomach.

"Spread your legs," he says slapping them lightly with the belt, "further, further!"

My legs are as far as they can go without my bottom being too low. I'm fully exposed and the wetness makes me shiver as the fan causes my pussy to grow cold.

"Count them."

The first SMACK of the belt stings, but I sound out a resounding, "One!"

He runs his fingers over my pussy, and I know that I'm dripping.

"Two" I say as the belt comes down again.

We're up to 10 and I want to break, but I don't. He stops to run the belt over my cheeks and up my back. I let out a little shiver and feel my nipples harden. He sits the belt on my back as his hand travels once again over my cunt, teasing my ass hole, and then my clit.

10 more and I'm screaming, wriggling beneath the belt, each blow a little harder, a little sweeter than the last.

He grabs my hair and pulls me up right, rising to stand behind me before sitting me back down on his lap. He spreads my legs with his feet and I'm exposed completely. He reaches into his pocket, holding me in place with his feet and his hands in my hair, to pull out a knife. I watch as he carefully, forcefully slips the knife between my breasts and rips into my shirt. He places the knife back into his pocket before ripping off the rest of my shirt, the remnants hanging around me.

"You want to come so badly, slut? I'll make you come."

His hands are on my nipples, twisting, teasing, pinching, pulling. The sweet mixture of pain and pleasure makes me drip more than I already am and I moan, for it's all I can manage to do. His hand travels back to my clit, his fingers circling it.

"Oh please, oh please, please, please."

"No," he grunts.

He stops and shoves me to my knees.

"Kiss it," he says, and his pants are off, his cock in front of me.

I kiss it gently, before he shoves it towards my mouth, "prove to me you can be a good girl."

I begin to run my tongue over it, taking his cock into my mouth and making him groan.

I want to be his good little slut, I want him to have me anyway he wants.

His hands are in my hair, as he shoves his cock further into my mouth.

He pulls out and begins to stroke himself. I watch, wanting to touch it, but knowing better. He grows harder and larger before finally coming, and I can't decide if I'm thrilled to see him come or jealous that I haven't had my own sweet release.

His hand travels to my pussy again, "mmmmm, you're more wet than I think you've ever been," he says.

His fingers are inside, thrusting and teasing my g-spot. He pulls out and shoves me down on the couch, shoving my legs as far apart as he possibly can.

"Don't move," he orders, and I'm left exposed to the world, the woman on the television still moaning with delight.

He returns a moment later, and I feel the sweet cold metal against my nipples before I see them. The clamps tighten around my already hard, throbbing nipples and I groan a little with delight. He places the chain in my mouth, "don't drop it."

His face falls to meet my pussy, as his fingers slip into me again. His tongue moves quickly around my clit and I begin to buck against him.

I want to beg, but I can't, so I moan loudly instead, pleading, as best I can, with high pitched moans and screams, twisting beneath him, not daring to come without permission.

"Come, you fucking slut," he orders, and I do, over and over again until I can't move anymore.