The Fine Art Of Begging

MORNING

"Get up, you lazy slut. You've overslept."

Sir's voice sounded very displeased. My eyelids snapped open. What was wrong?

I looked at the alarm clock and was suitably alarmed. It was 10:30 am. How had I slept so late? Swimming to the surface of my consciousness was a memory of turning off that same alarm clock when it had gone off at 8:00 am.

And what was Sir doing here? He had a key to my apartment, but I hadn't expected him to come over until this afternoon, as we'd planned, for some play.

Sir's voice sounded even more chilly. "I'm waiting for an explanation. I was going to surprise you with a nice brunch at Café Fleur. I made reservations for 11:00. Now that's scuppered."

My mouth was dry from sleep and surprise, but I forced the words out. "I'm very sorry, Sir. I must have been tired last night. I-I turned the alarm off, thinking I'd sleep just a few more minutes...."

I felt terrible. Not only was I going to miss a rare opportunity to enjoy going to a restaurant I loved with Sir, but even worse, I'd caused him to be disappointed with me. Desperately, I added, "I could throw on some clothes. We could....we'd only be a few minutes late."

He looked pointedly at his watch, then at me. "No. You look a mess. You need a shower." I knew he wasn't pleased that I'd gone out last night with friends. I'd had more to drink than I was allowed, and I'd been late getting home. Sir had wanted me to call him when I got back, so he was well aware that it was well after 2:00 am when I made it home, and that I'd been a bit tipsy and flirty.

"Plus, you have errands to run today. You can't skip them. You need to get your dry cleaning for next week, and the Farmer's Market is only open until 1:00 pm."

I sighed. He wasn't going to give me a pass. I stretched and stood up, only to have Sir's hand come down heavily on my shoulder, pushing me inexorably until I was on my knees.

"Greet me properly, slut."

I quickly arranged myself in his preferred position, knees spread, hands behind my neck. "Good morning, Sir. Please accept my apology for oversleeping and ruining your surprise."

He said nothing, but I could feel irritation coming off him in waves. I was also at eye level with his cock and could see evidence of it hardening as he looked at me. As usual, I'd slept in the nude.

I was inspired to say, "Sir, please let me worship your cock in apology." I looked up at him through my long bangs and licked my lips. "Please, Sir?"

He grunted. "Don't try to get around me. You'll get a punishment for this, and it won't be that. You enjoy it far too much."

I wiggled, just slightly. "I do like it, Sir. Please. I know you'll give me a punishment too. But...I feel so bad, and I want to make it up to you."

He paused, considering. "Beg me. If you beg nicely enough, I might let you enjoy having my cock in your slutty little mouth."

Oh, god. Begging was still difficult for me. But I wanted to please him more than anything. I thought about that gorgeous cock, hidden inside his jeans. "Can I worship your cock, Sir. Please? You know how horny it makes me to press my tits against your legs and kiss and tease your cock. And I want more. I want to suck your cock, want you to come in my mouth. I'll be a good girl; I won't spill a single drop."

He shifted his stance slightly, but only to say, "Not good enough. Tell me what a slut you are."

I shifted too, moving infinitesimally closer to him. "I'm a slut for your cock, Sir. I can't get enough of it. Being on my knees with your cock in my mouth is what I like best. You know it's true, Sir. I just love -- "

He interrupted me. "Put your hand between your legs. Is my nasty little fucktoy wet already?"

I could feel my pussy spasm as he said those words, so I was pretty damn sure I was wet. I lowered my hand between my legs, used two fingers to trace circles inside myself -- surreptitiously touching my clit -- then showed him those same glistening fingers.

He smiled, a little cruelly. "Ah. My poor little cockslut. You're dripping, as usual. You love this. You get so wet when I humiliate you, don't you, pet? Suck those fingers. Show me what you'd do to my cock if I let you have it."

Eagerly I licked them, showing him with long strokes of my tongue what I would do. Then I put them in my mouth, noisily sucking them, getting them nice and wet with my saliva, for his enjoyment. I felt more moisture trickle out of my pussy.

I couldn't help feeling a little shocked at myself. It was embarrassing what he could reduce me to in a matter of moments: a desperate, begging creature, an animal in heat who was absolutely throbbing just to have his cock in her mouth. God, if anyone were to ever find out....

Sir reached down and pinched my nipple hard, making me yelp. My attention instantly snapped back to him. He unzipped his jeans and gave a harsh laugh. "Your attention was wandering a bit. Luckily, I know what you want. You may worship my cock."

"Oh, thank you, Sir," I said in a rush of delight. I moved close enough to lift my body up and gently tongue the head of his cock. It bobbed slightly and I made to reach up with my hand and circle it, but he growled, "Use only your mouth, slut."

I abandoned myself to enjoyment. Sir didn't seem to be holding back. He let me take him into my mouth, then pushed deep into my throat a time or two. His thrusts became faster. Then to my disappointment he pulled away.

His voice was tight. "Get on the bed, on your back. Legs open."

Giddy with delight, I hurried, thinking he was going to come inside me. But as soon as I was in position, Sir stroked himself a few times and came on my thighs as I whined in disappointment.

"Stay just like that," he half-growled. I didn't dare move.

He looked down at me thoughtfully for a moment, then stepped to the hamper beside my dresser. Opening it, he fished out the panties I'd been wearing yesterday. They were right on top. Nothing fancy, since I knew I wouldn't see Sir last night. Just cute cotton bikinis, pink, with small white polka-dots. He used them to wipe his cock, then to clean the cum and my own juices from my thighs and pussy. He handed them to me.

"Put these on," he ordered, in a voice I knew better than to argue with. "Get dressed. You'll not shower this morning, and you'll wear these while you run your errands." His mouth curved cruelly. "Anyone who gets too close will be able to smell what a filthy slut you are."

He watched impassively as my face flushed deeply from the humiliation of his words. Then, as if it just occurred to him, he said, "Where's that special rope I tied for you last week, my needy girl?"

Oh god. This time I couldn't stop myself from whimpering. I knew where this was going. I stood up and put on the panties, then went to the drawer in my dresser where I kept all of the 'toys' I'd acquired over the last few months, since I'd met Sir. I pulled out a coiled length of bright-colored rope with a series of four large-ish knots tied into it, each about an inch apart. I handed it to Sir.

The previous week, he'd ordered me to wear this ingenious device of torture to work under my clothing. The knots were positioned to rub against my clit and other interesting bits of my anatomy whenever I moved or shifted or walked. By the end of the day, I'd been crazed with arousal after spending the last nine hours imagining it was Sir's knuckle brushing me, rubbing me there. When I got home and undressed, I'd stared in fascination at my clit -- I'd never seen it look so red and swollen. It was actually visible, poking out between my labia.

He bent and arranged the rope around me, cinching it tightly and tying it so that it rested on my hip bones. The panties were wet enough that the knots moved slickly over them as he tugged the rope. When he pushed one of the knots into my already-aroused clit, my body jolted at the feeling.

He chuckled. "There now, my little slut. Go and do your errands. You may take off the rope and shower when you get back home, but put the panties back on. And no touching yourself, no matter how aroused that rope makes you. I'll return at 4:00. Before I arrive, move one of your kitchen chairs to face the glass sliders and place your bag of rope and your ball gag beside it. Oh, and make sure your vibe is charged. The new one."

I looked down. He knew how to play me, tease me. He knew that -- between wearing the rope and those dirty, wet panties, and imagining what he was planning for me later, I'd be a mindless mess all day.

"Yes, Sir," I whispered. He gently pulled my chin up until our eyes met. Mine were unfocused, full of some dark need to submit to him. Whatever he saw pleased him, and he kissed me.

"Until later, little one," he said.

MID-DAY

I stepped through the apartment door and sighed in relief. That rope was pure evil. But today Sir had upped the ante even more. Every time I thought about the fact that I was wearing my wet, dirty panties at his command, it made the rubbing from those knots even harder to bear.

When I'd worn the rope at work, at least I'd been sitting at my workspace for the majority of the day. But today I'd been constantly in motion: in and out of the car, walking through the Farmer's Market, making stops at the drycleaner and drug store, waiting in line to mail a package. It was in the post office that I realized I was shifting back and forth on my feet, trying to get myself off with the resulting friction.

My face colored as it struck home what a slut I'd become over the last few weeks. It was like the floodgates of arousal and need had been opened after years of unsatisfying sex. Once I'd finally admitted to myself that I needed something more, and then screwed up the courage to do something about it, things had changed radically.

Sometimes, though, my rational mind tried to rein me back. Surely this was going too far. To be helplessly following his commands, humiliating myself like this, why was I letting it happen? It wasn't -- couldn't be -- right, surely?

But I loved it. I got off on it. The orgasms I'd had since I'd met Sir were amazing. Instead of slogging through my days, focusing almost totally on my job and the slight amount of escapism I allowed myself reading erotica online, I felt really alive. Glowing. And yet...

I bit my lip. Maybe I should stop this. It wasn't like I was a kid anymore. Sir liked to play dangerously. What if someone discovered what kind of person I really was? I had a good management position, I was saving to buy my own place, I was known and respected at the organizations where I volunteered.

And now, I was an owned slut. Wearing dirty panties and trying to get herself off in public while wearing a crotch rope. My face reddened further. I must have swayed slightly. The woman behind me looked at me, concerned, and said, "Are you all right, sugar?"

I nodded at her, stammered a reply, got control of myself. This had to stop. I had to tell Sir that we couldn't go on.

And yet, by the time I'd reached home, I was consumed by thoughts of what he had in mind this afternoon. I removed the rope, part of me grateful to be rid of its torment, the other part regretting its absence. Oh, what was wrong with me?

I slid my fingers along the knots; several were damp. I left the rope sitting on my bed to remind me to wash it later. Then I put away my food from the market, slipped my dry cleaning into my closet and went to shower. My clit looked just as red and swollen as when I'd worn the rope all day. I only brushed my fingers over it the tiniest amount when I showered, just enough to clean myself. I was tempted to do more, but I already was owed a punishment, and I didn't want another. I was finding that Sir could be very exacting when his instructions weren't followed.

When I got out and dried off. I lifted the panties that I'd left on the counter. I held them to my nose. They smelled of Sir's cum and my own arousal. I slipped them back on again, already lost in anticipation...I knew that whatever he had planned, I'd want it. And more.

LATE AFTERNOON

Sir arrived promptly at 4:00 pm. As usual, I felt a bit flustered. It's not that I run late, as a rule, but I'm usually just barely on time. I was kneeling in the entry, wearing nothing but the panties. I glanced nervously back at the chair, checking off the items in my mind when I heard the door being unlocked.

Sir stepped in and regarded me silently. Then he said, "Stand up. Legs wide apart and hands behind your head."

I hurriedly complied. Clearly he hadn't gotten over his irritation from this morning. My stomach fluttered as he walked around me. His hands rested on my hips briefly, thumbs toying with the elastic band on my panties, before he pulled them slowly down to the middle of my thighs.

I heard a snort of amusement. "You've done a good job of keeping them wet for me, my little slut. You've been thinking about what's going to happen now."

I nodded, whispered, "Yes, Sir."

"And did you touch yourself while you were imagining how I would tease my filthy girl? Or wondering whether or not I'd let you come today?"

My eyes widened, "No, Sir. I didn't...I didn't touch myself. I was good."

He gave my ass a hard spank, hard enough that I nearly lost my balance. "We'll see about that." He walked in front of me, used one hand to spread open my labia. "I see your greedy clit is practically standing up and begging for some attention."

I had an inkling of what was to follow. Sure enough, he brought his other hand up and gave me a sharp slap, right on top of that sensitive area. I bit back a shriek. He had to grab my hip again to steady me.

"Please...Sir...it's too much. The rope makes it so sensitive." Tears welled up and threatened to overflow.

As if I hadn't spoken, he asked, "Did you get everything ready?"

"Yes, Sir. I-I think so," I said a little uncertainly. He always made me feel a little nervous, a little off-center.

He walked over to the chair, eyed everything carefully. He beckoned me over. I started to pull the panties back up, but he said sternly, "Leave them where they are. Don't let them fall."

One of those tears trickled down my cheek as I shuffled ungracefully toward him, keeping my legs wide enough that the panties didn't slip down.

"There now, there's my good girl. No tears. You crave this."

I nodded, but another tear slipped out as well.

He patted the seat of the chair. "Sit down. Legs spread wide." I sat, looking a bit fearfully at the floor to ceiling slider. My apartment was on the ground floor, facing the terrace courtyard and pool deck. Though the pool had closed a couple of weeks ago, people still came out to sit at one of the tables or lie on a sunbed to read in the warm, autumn sun. The path to the gate ran just outside my balcony. Anyone walking by could see me if they looked inside. The thought made me shiver.

While I worried, Sir tied my spread legs to the legs of the chair at the ankle and knee. After stroking gently over my punished clit a few times, he reached down and tugged the panties back up, making me lift my hips enough to pull them on. He patted them, then gave me another, gentler slap on my pussy, enough to remind me how very needy and aroused I felt.

Picking up more rope, he secured my wrists to the back legs. This arched my back slightly.

"What are you planning to do, Sir?" I ventured softly. "Is this m-my punishment?"

He just grinned and said, "That will depend on you. You're going to either learn to do a better job of begging, or you'll be left denied." Picking up the tiny remote-controlled vibrator that was my newest toy, he fixed it to my panties, checking the fit until it was positioned right over my clit. He even spread my labia so there was nothing between the hot pink silicone toy and my equally hot clit.

When he was satisfied, he stepped back and leaned a hip against the bookshelf next to my chair. He pulled out his phone, opened the app for the vibrator.

"Let's see now. What was that pattern you liked so much? Ahh, it's this one, isn't it?"

The vibe jolted to life in my panties. My breathing hitched. A little self-consciously I said, "Thank you, Sir. That feels...very good."

He frowned. "More descriptive. You're a writer. Tell me how it makes you feel."

I swallowed nervously. "My clit is so swollen, and the vibrations are right on top, on the...most sensitive part. When the pattern reaches the peak level, my....um....my pussy kind of spasms and it makes me feel..."

I stopped, knowing that tell-tale flush was creeping up my chest to my neck and face again.

"Makes you feel how?"

"Makes me feel...empty, Sir. Like I need something inside me. In my pussy. Like your cock, Sir."

He continued to gaze at me, waiting. I burst out, "This is hard, Sir. It's humiliating. It makes me feel...powerless. Uncomfortable." I shifted slightly in the chair as the vibe inexorably reached that peak again. I couldn't stop myself. "Please, Sir, why does this feel so good? Why am I so turned on by this?"

"You know why. You need it, crave it. It's nothing to be embarrassed about, believe me." He stepped closer and stroked my cheek. "You just need to stop fighting it."

"But...it can't be right. I feel so utterly degraded when I do these...these things to please you, Sir."

The vibrator climbed to the crescendo again and I moaned, "I feel like such a filthy slut. All I can think about is this. My pussy is constantly wet, constantly twitching." I swallowed back another moan. "And when I do what you tell me, it feels so right. So incredible...."

The vibrator stopped. I waited for a long moment, but it didn't come back on. "Sir?" I asked softly. "Please, turn it back on, Sir."

"What do you want, my little fucktoy? What is it that you really want? You need to tell me...and tell yourself."

I groaned with frustration. "I don't know what I want, Sir! I'm so confused."

This gained me an exasperated look. He reached down and picked up the ball gag. It was also fairly new, and it scared me a little. Not being able to communicate was giving up a lot of control. Yet as he buckled it around my neck and fitted it in my mouth, I felt a certain peace, as if I was no longer the one driving. I'd handed him the reins.

Sir smiled and patted my head as if I were a stubborn child. "I want you to think about this for a while, pet. Consider it a sort of time out. I'm going to sit over there on the couch and read. You just let me know when you come to any conclusions about what it is you want."

My eyes widened. I tried to protest. "Ngghh. Ngghh! Hggghhh..." I stopped, knowing it was useless. Tears threatened again. Then the vibrator started. It was just a low hum, not that explosive pattern he'd used earlier. Just enough to keep me on edge, scrambling my brain with need.

No. I needed to think. I tried to ignore the vibe. It worked for a few minutes. But my eyes slowly closed. And before I knew it, I was working my hips forward and back shamelessly, trying to get more. More friction, more buzzing vibration.

I heard a noise outside and opened my eyes. A man walked through the gate to the terrace. I gasped, nearly choking on the saliva building up in my mouth. Luckily, he was headed toward the tables and his head didn't swivel in the direction of my unit.

I pulled at the rope binding my hands, trying to get free, but it held fast. Oh, this was too much. I couldn't stand it. I wanted. I wanted.

Sir must have been watching me. The vibe changed to something slightly more forceful.

"Hggghhh...." I mumbled. Saliva dribbled out of my mouth, dripping onto my chest. The thought of how I would appear to anyone walking by pushed me to the brink of reason, inches from orgasm. I was just a slut, just Sir's fucktoy. His to use and command, to humiliate if he wanted, for his pleasure. And god help me, it was for my pleasure too.