"I brought something for that eager mouth of yours, Clodia." I don't know how you'd kept me from noticing the ball gag until now, but I certainly can't take my eyes off of it any longer. "Open, boi." I comply, fear in my chest and my eyes. The fullness is unlike your cock or hand in my mouth. I don't feel satisfaction, only submission. You buckle it on tightly and smile. "Lovely." I feel somehow more exposed with my speech removed. More humiliated by my own subservience and desire. I lower my eyes, as I can't look at you right now.
But that lack of eye contact means I miss it when you use the spoon you had requested to get an ice cube from your glass. I am surprised by the shock of cold as you caress my neck. Your hand slides down to my nipple, leaving a trail of cool water in its wake. I shiver from the chill. You bite down where the ice began its journey, digging your teeth into my flesh, marking me again as yours. I moan around the gag, and make a superhuman effort not to lean my hips against you, begging you with my body to fuck me. Such a breach of inspection protocol would surely earn me a punishment.
The ice continues its journey, followed always by your strong, sharp teeth. I whimper and breathe faster with each bite, my chest and legs becoming covered in rosy blotches - gifts from you. When you make it back up to my other nipple, first cold, then warm and sharp, you up the challenge for me. Your other hand slides idly over my clit just as you bite down. I don't just moan this time, but sink against your hand, trying to press my cunt onto it instinctively. Instantly you're gone. You click your tongue at me.
"Inspection doesn't mean 'fuck my hand', boi. You know better. You're thinking with your cunt again. I'll have to find a way to turn that off for you so you can serve me better." I hear a clink from the side table where your glass is, but it's outside my peripheral vision. You stand behind me and press my legs a few inches farther apart with your knee. I feel a shock of cold on my clit and gasp in surprise. It hurts to feel something so cold against what is, right now, my warmest parts. But you're not finished. You slide the fresh ice cube into my cunt with your fingers, pressing it deep inside. My eyes widen with shock and my muscles tense. I hear you chuckle in my ear. "That should cool you down, slut." You wipe your hand off on my breast and step away.
I feel the cold seeping into me, radiating from my cunt out into my core. Water starts to trickle down my legs, thickened slightly by the juices of my cunt that are still inside me. You sit down to watch me and finish your drink. I'm shaking with cold, and with embarrassment that I required such treatment to control my need for you. But I do not change position, except to look you, pleadingly, shamefully, apologetically in the eye. You smile at me. "Can you feel the ice melting inside you, boi?" I nod. "Good. Maintain this position for me until it's all melted. When you can no longer feel it, you may release your arms."
I close my eyes and breathe through the sensations washing over me. The pain of the cold. The ache of my cunt, still unfulfilled and wanting you. The filthy wetness of my face, saliva dripping out of my stuffed, open mouth. The guilt of breaking protocol. The shame of the strength of my desire for you, and what I am willing to endure merely because it amuses you. Slowly the ice gets smaller and smaller, until all I can feel is one tiny sliver. Eventually, it too is gone. I wait to make extra sure - I don't want to disappoint you by being mistaken - and lower my hands to my sides and open my eyes.
"Well done, boi. You have been punished, and forgiven. And you appear to be much less wound up. I find that isn't as entertaining as a needy, greedy boi, and I want to fuck you after all. Touch yourself for me."
I look you in the eye as I slide my right hand across my clit. The ice has left me dry; you always say water is terrible lube. I wipe some of my spit off of my face with my other hand, and use it to coat my fingers. I slide two inside myself. I needn't have bothered with the spit though. Seeing you watching me hungrily, a glint of amusement in your eyes, a hand teasing your own cock, a drop of precum staining your boxer briefs, that's all I need to be soaked again. To put on a show for you. To show you how hungry I am too. My hand works faster on my clit and I moan, sliding a third finger inside. I am humping my hand now, wanting more. I've been denied for so long, not just tonight, but for days before. A fourth finger slides in. I'm making myself a picture perfect greedy slut for you, hair wild, face covered in our combined fluids, skin red, so close to fisting myself, bucking and moaning around my gag.
You growl and grab my hips, pulling me unexpectedly to the couch with you. You pin me face down. I start to remove my hand.
"No, leave it in. Your mouth is full, your cunt should be achingly full too. It's like a gangbang where I have you all to myself." I whimper in anticipation. I hear you spit, and feel added wetness on my cunt and hand. "That's really the only fluid of mine you deserve, boi. But I may be feeling generous tonight."
You force your cock inside me, past my fingers. You alone is enough to fill me, but this stretches me far enough to hurt and I cry out, muffled by the ball gag. I move my hand in a tiny, fast rhythm as you begin to thrust vigorously in and out past it. You growl loudly, and bite down hard on my ribs. I scream, but that doesn't deter you. If anything, you increase the intensity, fucking me harder, pounding my cervix with the head of your cock. I always leave our dates bruised and filled, and this will be no exception. The degradation of being so thoroughly stretched and fucked, and loving it, fills my chest with shame. I tear up a little between the humiliation of the mental image of myself and the extreme sensations in my body. Your hand grabs my throat, and you pull into me harder even than before. Each thrust makes me cry out, but I only fuck you and my hand harder. I'm hungry for it, for you, for the pain and pleasure you grant me. For the fulfillment of being of use.
You pull out and throw me to the floor. You quickly grab my hands together and place a foot on them, as if daring me to move, binding them with your weight and your will. I look up at you and see the predatory darkness in your eyes as, with a few quick strokes, you finish yourself. Your cum lands on me, capping my degradation. You adorn my chest, my hips, my bruised neck, even my face with your cum, and I sigh in satisfaction around the gag still achingly keeping my jaw forced open.
You step back and shakily kneel beside me. "My boi. My useful, eager boi. Thank you for serving me tonight." I nuzzle into your leg by way of thanks, and gaze up at you. You gently unbuckle the gag and ease it from between my teeth.
"Thank you Sir." I smile as best I can given my aching jaw. "May I clean you now?"
"Only if I can help clean you, boi," you say gently, as you pet my hair.
But what happened in the shower is a story for another time.
