As I climbed the stairs to my apartment, I couldn't help but think of the relaxing evening I had ahead of me. Work was exhausting, and all I wanted to do was lay on my couch snuggled under a blanket and watch some television. The only thing that could make it better would be if my boyfriend could be there with me.
I turned the key in the lock and opened my door. Finally, I was home. I walked through and tossed my shoes aside as I stepped further inside, pulling the door closed behind me. Suddenly, a pair of strong hands grabbed me and pulled me back. Arms wrapped around my chest and waist, holding me hostage. As I opened my mouth to cry out for help, a hand moved quickly to cover it.
"Shut up, filthy whore." I would recognize that voice anywhere.
My boyfriend knew about my fantasies. I wouldn't admit them to anyone else, but he knew. The idea of being forced to do anything asked of me, of being used and abused until I was exhausted, and then used some more, was a major turn on for me. When he said he was working, it must have been so I wouldn't be expecting this. I was thankful; if I'd known, I don't think I could have made it through the day.
"Listen bitch, you're going to do everything I say, when I say it, how I say it. Got it?"
He moved his hand from my mouth so I could respond.
"Okay," I breathed. I'd barely gotten the word past my lips and he spun me around and slapped me in the face.
"You will address me as 'sir' when you speak, bitch." The slap stung my cheek, and I shied away slightly. He grabbed my face in one of his hands and brought his close to me. I could feel his hot breath on my lips. "You will do everything I say. When I say it, and how I say it. Got that?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good." He seemed pleased with himself, and smiled smugly as he let me go. "Get down on your hands and knees. It's time you were treated like the bitch you are."
I did as I was told. I knew there would be consequences if I didn't; that slap stung, and it was just the beginning. It hurt, but I loved it. I could feel my panties getting wet already; I didn't know how I was going to last all evening. I felt something cold, and possibly leather, cinch tightly around my neck. A collar. He tightened it to the point where it was uncomfortable, but wasn't blocking my airway.
"Hurry the fuck up," he scolded as he tugged on my leash: my leash. I had a leash. I was his bitch. I crawled along and followed him, trying to keep up so that the collar wouldn't choke me. I only kind of succeeded, and I felt a mixture of disappointment and relief when he stopped pulling as we entered the hallway. We were a couple feet away from my bedroom door, and I was surprised when we didn't go inside. Perhaps he had something set up that he didn't want me to see yet; I felt the wetness between my legs grow.
"Stand up." I rose to my feet. "It's time to see what a filthy whore you really are. Don't move." As he said it, he pulled a knife out of his pocket and flicked it open, approaching me. He slip the blade along my cheek, not so hard as to cut me, but hard enough that I knew it was very sharp. Then he brought it down to the collar of my shirt. Holding the shirt with one hand, he cut with the other, and then tore the front of my shirt open, exposing my stomach and bra. I shivered as the cold air hit my warm, flushed skin. He slapped me again. He slipped the shirt over my shoulders and let it fall in a pile behind me. He slipped the knife back into his pocket and cupped a breast in each of his hands, looking down at them. Through my padded bra, he could see and feel my nipples perking up at his touch.
"I've barely touched you, and look at how you're reacting. I was right about you. What a dirty, filthy whore you are." He lightly kneaded my breasts in his hands for a minute. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, moaning as I felt his thumbs rub over my erect nipples over and over again.
"This is going to be so much fun," he chuckled. His hands left my breasts, and I yearned for him to come back to them.
"Please don't stop, that feels so good," I pleaded with him. Another slap to the face.
"Please, sir, don't stop, sir," I corrected myself. A smirk.
"Oh, there will be much more where that came from. Don't you worry about that, little bitch. But I will do it when I want to, not when you want me to." He undid my belt as he spoke, then let my pants fall to my ankles.
"Step forward," he demanded. I obliged. I stood before him, in my bra and panties, nearly entirely exposed. He took a few steps back and examined me. I took the opportunity to see what he was wearing; I hadn't gotten the chance yet. He wore a classic black suit, perfectly tailored, with a white dress shirt under his unbuttoned jacket and a thin black tie. It was my favourite of his suits. My admiration, however, was quickly interrupted.
"Take your bra and panties off."
I slipped my fingers under the waist of my panties and pushed them down, letting them fall to the ground. I kicked them behind me with one of my feet. Then, reaching behind me, I unhooked my bra. Letting it slide off my shoulders, I tossed that behind me as well. My breasts sprang out, nipples still standing at attention, begging to be touched. They were made even firmer by the cold air, if that were even possible.
He looked at me for a moment, then approached. He took my right breast in his hand and lifted it a bit. Bending slightly, he brought it to his face. I could feel his hot breath on me, and it was everything I could do not to squirm. The wetness between my legs grew, and I was amazed that I wasn't dripping yet. He parted his lips, and brought my nipple between them, biting down softly. I tried to stay quiet, but a soft moan escaped. I could feel him smile, and I moaned again. He twisted his tongue around my nipple, occasionally biting down, playing and enjoying my reactions. He started sucking on it, very lightly. I could feel my whole body warming, feel the fire in my cunt burning, begging to be touched. But then he stopped. I sighed in disbelief, and stared at him. He smirked back.
"You didn't think that was really going to continue, did you?" he chided me. "I thought you were a filthy whore, and I was right; you're filthy." He slid his hand between my legs. I moaned loudly; this is what my body had been begging for since he first grabbed me in the entryway.
"Absolutely filthy, you are. Get back on your knees." He released my crotch and grabbed my leash. I unwillingly sunk back to the floor, and he pulled me along to the bedroom. As much as I wanted him to keep touching me, I still felt the heat from my pussy spreading slowly through my body as he spat the words at me and led me forward.
