I’m always going to get mine.
My stomach sank when he said it.
I was on my knees in front of him. His beautiful cock was buried deep in my throat. His hands were fisted in my hair. And my mind was going a mile a minute, trying to figure out what I’d done wrong.
“You’re supposed to be a teasy slut,” he said. “Did you forget how to turn me on?”
My blood ran cold. He’d come to me, naked, fresh from the shower. His hands had found my tits, and I had given a half hearted lick to his stomach, my hands in my lap, as if I had no god damned sense in my head.
“Don’t you think your hand should be on that when it’s that close?” he had asked.
I had grinned sheepishly and wrapped my hand around his cock, but I definitely had lacked that certain something that says, “This is what I want to be doing.”
That’s no bueno.
“So now you’re gonna suck my cock, since you obviously don’t want to get fucked.”
He fucked my face for a moment longer before sitting down and telling me to get the clothespins.
They’re horrible clothespins. And no, not horrible in the good way. They fall apart if my breasts jiggle wrong, and snap off with almost no pain at all at random moments. But they’re what we’ve got, right now.
He managed to get them on in a way that did the trick. Then he yanked me to my feet by my hair and pushed me over the edge of the bed, my tortured tits swinging beneath me. A moan of pleasure was forced from my lips when his cock slid between my pussy lips and slammed into my cervix. I forgot the window was open and kept moaning.
“Shut up, slut,” he growled.
He played with the clothespins as he pounded in and out of my pussy. Then he pulled out and led me to the ground by my hair, his cock level with my mouth. I opened wide, and he slid back in.
I worked hard to prove I absolutely did want to please him. I took all of him in, worked my tongue over his shaft and frenulum.
He reached down, and slapped off the clothespins, then jerked me back to my feet and threw me over the side of the bed. He slammed his cock into my pussy, and began the slow, maddening process of teasing himself until he could no longer handle it, using my pussy as a jerk off toy.
I laid (crouched? stood? knelt?) there, whimpering softly, trying not to make any noise.
When he could no longer stand it, he pulled out of me, shoved me to my knees, and said, “Make your master cum, cunt.”
And I did.
Then I whined about having an achey pussy. He just said, “That was the point.” Hrmph.