Greedy

“You’re a greedy little slut, aren’t you?”

The question is delivered half-chidingly, half with amusement. It’s a rhetorical question but one that I am still expected to answer. Contrition or cheekiness? I weigh up which is most likely to be rewarded and opt for blatant laciviousness

“I am, Sir. I want whatever you will grant me”

Illustrating the point with a pleading heavy-lidded gaze and a shifting of my position on the bed.

He pauses his video game and swings around in the revolving chair to face me.

“So let me see. So far today, I’ve beaten your arse red, fucked you til you screamed, choked you with my cock and made you come five times. And you’re still not satisfied?”

Oops. Dangerous territory. He smirks at my uncertain expression and waits for my answer.

“Um…..like you said Sir, I’m a greedy little slut”

I tacitly admit to not being satisfied. I’m hardly ever satisfied. The more I get, the more I want and the more I want, the more I need. He knows this, of course – making me wait, and beg for it is part of the fun for him.

He laughs and shakes his head. “You’ve got Ever-Ready Duracell batteries, haven’t you, fucktoy?”

I’m feeling cheeky now – maybe if I wind him up enough, he’ll treat me to another beating.

“Oh it’s all USB-rechargeable these days” I grin “Look, here’s the socket” and I start to undo my trousers

I can see him considering his options – teach me a painful lesson for being bratty? let me stew, frustrated, in my own cunt-juices while he ignores me for a while? or simply grab me and use me for his own satisfaction, knowing that it’s far more achievable than mine?

“Take off your clothes”

Ok, this sounds promising. I start to yank my top off.

“Stop” His voice is stern. I stop, look at him questioningly

“Slowly. You need to learn some self-control”

I can’t argue with that. “I know, Sir. Thank you for reminding me”. Now I’m doing a sultry striptease, peeling off my clothes inch by inch, fighting with my desire to be naked as fast as possible.

T-shirt…trousers…bra….knickers…

“Fold your clothes neatly and put them over there” he says, waving at the drawer unit on the other side of the room. As I head back to the bed after following instructions, he reaches up and catches me by the wrist.

“Fetch the cuffs”

Kneeling in front of his chair, I offer him the leather cuffs, knowing the light from the window on the thick chain between them mirrors the gleam in my eyes. He fastens the straps around my wrists and guides me to my feet with a firm hand on my throat, his other hand delving between my legs.

“Dripping wet” he shakes his head mockingly “as usual. You fucking whore”

“Oh yes” I breathe, and his hand tightens around my neck

“Silence. If I hear another sound from you, I’ll chain you to the desk and ignore you until you fall asleep”

He would do it as well. Being ignored is the worst punishment I can envisage. I close my mouth resolutely, only to open it again as he pushes his fingers inside for me to taste.

“Well, you’ve drained me dry today, girl.” he sighs. “Looks like you’re going to have to do the work yourself.“

He pushes me backwards until I’m sitting on the bed.

“Up on your knees now.”

I present myself on my knees, legs wide, cuffed hands resting against my mound, awaiting the instruction to begin. But he hasn’t finished setting this scene up just yet. My head stays still, following him only with my eyes as he brings out my collar, a leash….

….and the brutal steel hook.

“Lean forward” and with that he bends over me, spits on my arse crack and starts to rub gently, pushing his fingers against the whorl of my anus. I’m struggling not to moan; the restraints, the humiliating posture, the anticipation of sweet torture are conspiring against my self-control. He slides a finger inside, chuckling to himself as he feels me relax and push back against his hand. “That’s my girl. Keep still now”

Gradually he works my tight opening with his fingers until I am ready for the ball-end of the anal hook. I catch my breath quietly at the invasion of cold metal.

“Sit up straight” he orders and fastens my collar around my neck, attaches one end of the leash to the ring at the back and clips the other to the fastener on the hook.

“Now you’re ready” he says, and I nod, trying not to gasp as the movement of my head causes the hook to shift inside me.

“Keep your eyes open and on me. Don’t make a sound. You may begin.”

The leash keeps my back straight, if I slump or slouch, if I move my hips; my collar will tighten and the pressure of the steel ball inside me will become uncomfortable. He is watching me closely, ready to release me If tension turns to risk of injury; poised to enjoy the spectacle of me trying desperately to make myself come without moving anything but my hands.

I pinch my clit and remember not to groan as the sensation travels through me. Restrained like this, I can’t indulge in my usual frantic rubbing, or reach far enough to plunge my fingers into my cunt but these restriction only heightens the intensity of my pleasure.

He reaches forward and pinches my left nipple, hard; grinning wickedly as he sees me fight to stay still.

“That’s all the help you’re getting. Now come on baby, let’s see you work for it. As hard as you can now.”

I obey, flickering my fingers as fast as I can, trying not to writhe or moan. Held in place by the collar and hook, hands reaching urgently for as much pressure as I can manage; my cunt aching to be filled. I wedge the knuckle of my thumb hard against myself, arch my back to give myself just slack on the leash to rock my hips back and forth and grind my clit against my hand.

“You look so fucking hot like that, slut” he says hoarsely, and the rough desire in his eyes and voice tips me over the edge – unable to stay still or silent any longer, I throw back my head and howl as my orgasm tears through me, lost in the throbbing of my flooding cunt, the spasming of my muscles against the hook, the pressure of the leather strap around my throat.

When I finally subside, trembling and panting, he releases me with gentle movements then cups my head in his hands.

“Well done, baby. Such a good girl”

His words of praise bring forth my happiest smile.

For the moment, at least; I am satisfied.