A Slave to Pleasure Pt. 03

"Fuck, you get so wet when I torture you. You're still trying to contort yourself onto my dick, aren't you? I've waited for this moment for so long, my pet. You haven't made it easy but I understand that this is what you need. Look me in my eyes while I take your innocence, you little whore."

He spat the word "whore" at me like a curse and roughly grabbed my chin, directing me upwards to force eye contact. I blinked the tears from my eyes as we stared at each other, and in that moment of connection, I finally felt the head of Mr. Robertson's cock slide into my virgin pussy. The sensation of pressure as he entered me was more intense than anything I'd ever felt: it was as if I was being forced open, but in the most natural and erotic way possible. His cock inched deeper and I moaned softly as I felt the tightly clenched muscles of my vagina relax in preparation to receive the rest of the old man's long, girthy cock.

Staring into Mr. Robertson's eyes as he entered me was a borderline religious experience. I could tell he was monitoring my face closely for any signs of true distress: regardless of our games, I found I still trusted the old man. We stayed almost silent as he savored the alternating waves of fear, pain, and intense pleasure that crossed my face. I gasped softly into his palm as I felt him encounter resistance inside me: he had reached my still-intact hymen. His breath hitched in his throat, and he asked me once more for my permission as his cock twitched and pulsed inside of me:

"Are you ready, my girl? Are you ready for me to take it?"

Dazed by the rush of endorphins and adrenaline, my brain couldn't formulate words. I could only moan and tremble under the intensity of his gaze.

"I'm sorry sweetheart, but I need you to say it. Say you want me to take your virginity."

It took me a moment to form the sentence before I gasped out a breathless reply:

"Yes, Daddy. I want you to take my virginity. Please Daddy—make me a woman, please."

I begged shamelessly, thinking only of the sweet and painful pressure between my legs. Once the words left my mouth, Mr. Robertson took a deep breath and forced himself deeper into my wet, wanting cunt. I felt a faint tearing sensation deep inside me that was quickly overshadowed by the blissful pressure of his cock stretching my pussy. I moaned like an animal, reveling at the novel feeling of fullness as he paused to allow my cunt to clench and stretch around his cock.

Just as I began to adjust to the throbbing presence of my master inside of me, he abruptly pulled himself free. Mr. Robertson moaned at the rapid movement, pausing momentarily to wipe the hanging threads of my juices that trailed from his cock to my trembling pussy lips. The old man only smirked at me before driving his face between my legs with a vengeance, his nose and tongue instantly penetrating my outer folds. I grunted and sat up at his sudden assault, but relaxed with a drawn-our moan as his tongue began to work over my clit again with long, powerful strokes. His lips closed around the sensitive bud and he sucked it gently as I felt his hand work it's way between my legs. The unrelenting suckling continued as one of his large fingers pushed into my vagina, and I moaned at this new level of stimulation.

Mr. Robertson's mouth ravished my cunt as his finger curled against a particularly sensitive spot on the front wall of my vagina. He kept a light pressure on that spot while his mouth applied a continuous, pulsing suction on my clit: this new combination of internal and external stimulation had me moaning and grinding my hips against his finger, suddenly desperate to climax. The old man raised his head but kept his finger inside me and smiled knowingly:

"That's your g-spot, sweetheart. You've discovered the sensitivity of your clit all on your own, but it's time for me to show you how good a penetrative orgasm can feel. And when you stimulate both..."

His free hand moved between my legs and the pad of his thumb began to rub my clit in tantalizingly slow circles. Mr. Robertson continued:

"Ahh, yes, I find both to be the most satisfying for everyone involved. But you're not here to be satisfied—you're here to be used like the whore you are."

The old man's finger slipped free of my cunt, and he abruptly grabbed my hips and flipped me over onto my front side, guiding my knees beneath me so my ass was spread wide and vulnerable before him. Tied as I was, I could do nothing but steal ragged breaths as the leather of the couch pressed hard into my face. Mr. Robertson's mouth returned between my legs and I groaned as his wide tongue swept across me from clit to asshole with a consistent, firm pressure. His hands gripped the cheeks of my ass and gently pulled them apart, baring my virgin asshole completely. I began to shudder violently when I realized what was to come: was he going to fuck my ass? I'd never even considered letting someone touch me there, but I had little choice in the matter as he bent down and worked the sensitive bud of my asshole with his tongue. The sensation was humiliating but deeply erotic, and I was once again confused my the mixed signals getting tangled up in my brain. I loved how he made me feel, but the logical portions of my brain were screaming for me to stop this before he took something I couldn't get back. He'd already taken my pussy, was I really going to let him degrade my ass, too?

I moaned but tried desperately to scoot away from his assault on my back door. He chuckled at my half-hearted attempt to escape before grabbing my knees and sliding me back towards him. His fingers trailed up my slit, his pinky dipping into my dripping cunt to collect some of the natural lubrication before it came to rest at the puckering entrance to my ass. Mr. Robertson's voice was soft but still laced with that cool authority:

"I'm not going to fuck your ass today, but you need to start preparing yourself for me. You need to get ready to have all of your holes used at once. I'm going to finger your ass, then I'm going to fuck your pussy at the same time."

As he finished his sentence, his pinky finger began to press into my asshole. I was shocked by this new, foreign feeling of penetration and began to moan against the leather of the couch. My face became slick with my own saliva as I groaned and bucked against his advance into my asshole, but with my hands bound behind my back, there was nothing I could do as he pressed his finger deeper inside me. The old man's finger thickened towards the base and I was overcome by the intensity of this new violation. I began to beg:

"Please, I promise I'll follow the rules sir, please. Don't touch my ass anymore, Daddy—it hurts, please. You can have my pussy and my face but please leave it alone, Daddy, it doesn't feel good—"

I lied, trying to ignore the familiar tensing of muscles as my body unwillingly prepared itself to orgasm. Despite my protests, his other hand stroked along the slit of my pussy and chuckled at the hot slick of excitement between my legs:

"If it hurts, then why are you so wet, you fucking whore? I don't like it when you lie to me—I know you like my finger in your ass, I can feel your body desperately trying to cum around it. You're embarrassed by how good it feels. That's alright... let's see how you like this."

Just as his finger buried itself to the hilt in my ass, I felt the smooth, hot head of Mr. Robertson's cock once again press into the wet entrance of my pussy. He didn't waste any time entering me slowly now that I was deflowered: once he was positioned, he used his free hand to firmly grip my hip and forced almost the entire length of his cock deep inside me with one, powerful stroke. Words failed me and I sobbed as he double-penetrated me for the first time. The combination of pressure in my pussy and ass was novel and completely overwhelming. My body took control and I could do nothing to stop the powerful, quaking orgasm that ripped through me, making my pussy and ass clench down hard on his invading cock and finger. Mr. Robertson huffed with male satisfaction as I moaned and trembled on his cock, savoring the rippling contractions against his throbbing member. When my shaking finally ceased and my senses returned, I felt the old man slowly withdraw his pinky finger while his cock remained almost completely buried in my pussy. He pivoted his hand and shoved his gigantic thumb deep into my ass without warning, and I cried out in shock against the spit-slick leather of the couch. He laughed cruelly at my suffering, admonishing me for allowing myself to climax without permission:

"What, you thought I'd just let you enjoy it? I let you have that one because I like how that sweet little cunt massages me when you cum. But now it's time for me to take what I want..."

My Master trailed off, moaning luridly at the fresh round of kegels he elicited from me with his words. I could no longer deny that his cock felt amazing, lodged deep in my belly and pressing firmly against my g-spot. His free hand moved up my back to grip the base of my neck, driving my face into the couch and cutting off my already labored breathing. The servile headspace of submission engulfed my brain as I fought the urge to scream: that would only waste my oxygen, and Daddy would let me breathe when he was ready. I attempted to overcome the instinctive panic as I became lightheaded, reminding myself that it was my duty to let Master use me in any way he wanted. After an eternity (or a few seconds, I wasn't sure), he let up on the pressure and I managed to turn my head to snatch a few ragged breaths through my mouth.

As oxygen flooded back into my system, I felt Mr. Robertson return his free hand to my hip. The thumb in my ass began to apply a steady pressure downward, forcing me to follow with my body and impale myself further on his cock. I panted with my mouth open like a dog while he forced me back onto his thick dick. The old man threw his head back and groaned with victory as he finally sheathed himself fully in my tight, wet cunt. Giving me no time to adjust, he pulled himself almost free before driving into me deep and hard, allowing his balls to slap loudly against my skin, which was still sore and smarting from the lashings he'd given me at the start of our session.

Me. Robertson began to fuck me with a slow, steady rhythm that had me moaning and begging for release in a matter of moments. The sensation of his thick shaft sawing in and out of me had me on the cusp of orgasm once again, and the pressure from his thumb in my ass made it almost impossible to resist the urge. He felt my muscles tensing and stopped abruptly, admonishing me once again for my whorish eagerness:

"I told you to keep it together you fucking slut. How am I supposed to focus with you cumming on me every 20 seconds? If you allow yourself to climax again before I tell you, I'll make you regret that you ever met me."

After the beating I'd received, I no longer doubted Mr. Robertson's commitment to his word. I breathed deeply through my nose and attempted to slow my heartbeat, focusing on the shiny leather in front of my face as the old man resumed his thrusting. He increased the pace and I groaned at the lewd, wet slapping sounds of him fucking me from behind.

I laid there for what felt like hours as Mr. Robertson mercilessly pounded my pussy. My mind went numb with the pleasant, pink fog of submission, and I reveled in the delicious fullness of my master inside of me. Occasionally, he would withdraw his thumb halfway from my ass before shoving it back in roughly: in each of these instances, I reared up my head and cried out at the rough treatment of my tender hole. With every thrust, I had to mentally will my body to relax and resist the massive orgasm that threatened to overtake me at any moment.

The old man's endurance was admirable: though I couldn't see a clock from my restricted viewpoint, I knew he had been inside me for well over an hour at this point and I wondered at how much more he could take. As if responding to my mental query, Mr. Robertson opened his mouth and growled:

"I'm getting close, baby. I can't hold it any longer. I'm going to let you cum with me, do it right now—"

His thrusts took on a frenzied pace as my body responded automatically to his command. I screamed as release finally swept through me, making every muscle clench and tremble at the strength of my long-delayed orgasm. Mr. Robertson bellowed in response as he spilled his seed deep inside my virgin pussy. I felt the thick, hot bursts of cum batter my cervix, and the walls of my cunt tightened around him again in an unintentional, whorish instinct to milk every last drop from his cock. Tears sprung to my eyes at the realization that there was no birth control whatsoever to prevent this old man from impregnating me: I wasn't on the pill, and in the heat of the moment, I hadn't thought to beg him to pull out.

The old man leaned down and let his forehead come to rest on my shoulder. His enormous frame draped over me while his softening cock pulsed inside me, and he whispered in my ear:

"Do you like it when I cum in you, my girl? If I had it my way, I'd breed you like a prized sow. I've got a Plan B pill for you, don't worry too much... but for now I think I want to leave my cum inside you for a little longer. No need to rush with your parents out of town..."

Mr. Robinson removed his thumb from my ass, pulling it out slowly to savor the tight resistance of my hole. He then slid himself free from the grip of my pussy with a swift jerk and I heard him swear softly as his cum began to leak slowly out of me:

"Fuck... What a sight to behold, little one. I've told you that I dreamed of this day, but you've surpassed my wildest expectations. Not everyone can have both their holes deflowered in one day, but you were glorious. The challenges of training you are proving worth it now that you're learning your place. I will remind you that in my eyes, you are nothing more than another fucktoy. The aftercare I provide is to make sure you don't suffer a psychological breakdown, not because I care about you. This isn't a love story—you are my pet, and I will treat you as one. Remember that."

From my face-down position on the couch, I could only listen to Mr. Robertson's steps recede into the bedroom. I heard a shower start and could hardly believe that he would leave me here like this, still tied with my hands behind my back, ass hoisted in the air as cum leaked slowly from my pussy onto the couch below. I wriggled against my bonds but found no purchase against the tight knots. I tried to sit up, but the combination of sweat, saliva, and cum made the leather impossibly slick, and I could do nothing but lay there as my Master took a long shower in the next room.

I thought over his words, internalizing the label of 'fucktoy' and reveling in the thrill of the crude label. I'd pushed my limits and been punished by having not one but two of my holes ravaged as a result, and a host of bloody bruises to go along with it. As the endorphins from my multiple orgasms receded, I began to really feel the pain of the welts spread across my backside. I was almost afraid to see what a mess he'd made of my delicate skin, and I knew I wouldn't be able to sit comfortably for at least a week, but I reminded myself that I'd gotten what I deserved. Daddy had punished me for my insolence, and I would have to deal with the painful, temporarily disfiguring consequences.

After several grueling minutes, the running water turned off, and Mr. Robertson returned to the living room. As he moved into my limited field of vision, I could see that he was wearing his red knee-length robe and a pair of white briefs, and he was wielding the scissors he'd used to carve my shirt away from my body what felt like hours before. The old man snipped away the tie and I let out a sigh of relief as blood rushed back into my hands. I sat up unsteadily and winced as my ass made contact with the couch: the skin was torturously tender, and I had to move slowly to prevent any of the small cuts from pulling open. I accepted a water and a small handful of pills that my master pressed into my still-pricking fingers: I recognized two as ibuprofen, and I assumed that the remaining small, white pill was the emergency contraception he'd promised me earlier. He watched as I swallowed the pills and almost the entire bottle of cool liquid in a series of frantic gulps: I hadn't realized my thirst until the water met my lips, but I must have sweat enough during the session to dehydrate myself. How long had I been here...?

I glanced towards the entryway and was surprised to see only muted sunlight. I'd arrived in the heat of early afternoon, but it was clearly almost evening time. Time seemed to bend while I suffered under the ministrations of my cruel old neighbor. I looked up questioningly to my Master:

"How long have I been here?"

He checked his watch before replying:

"It's almost six, so you've been here about 4 and a half hours. I would have liked to stretch this out a bit more but we were both a bit... eager."

Mr. Robertson smirked at the understatement and came to sit next to me on the couch. I was still completely naked and his large hand came to rest on my upper thigh, his pinky almost skimming my vagina and his thumb trailing small circles on the skin of my outer thigh.

"How do you feel?"

To be honest, I was unbelievable sore in a number of ways. I adjusted myself uncomfortably on the couch, wincing at the pull of the leather on my whipped ass. The sharp pain of my ruined skin drew most of my attention, but beneath that pain was a deep, more subtle throbbing from my pussy. I was surprised by the minimal pain inside me: the soreness was almost pleasant compared to the fire that raged across my skin. I replied, downplaying my injuries:

"I'm fine. Nothing that a cold compress won't fix. I got what I deserved, anyway. I'm sorry for being such a slut, Daddy. I'll be better."

The old man smiled and cupped my chin in his hand:

"That's what I like to hear. I think you've had plenty of excitement for today. Do you feel alright to get home, or would you like me to walk you?"

I shook my head, looking around for my clothes. i picked up my pink shorts and pulled them gingerly over my ass, stretching the waistband to keep the fabric from rubbing too much against the skin. When I settled them on my hips, I felt the fabric cling wetly to my backside, and I prayed that it was cum and not blood that soaked the back of my shorts. I realized that my tank top was shredded beyond repair, so I held it out to my neighbor in a wordless request. He nodded and walked back to his bedroom, returning with one of his enormous t-shirts. I pulled it over my head and giggled as the hem came to rest less than an inch above my knees. He smiled at my outburst, but gently grabbed my shoulders and directed me towards the front door.

At the threshold, I turned to face the old man, and his hands circled my hips in a casual gesture of possession. He searched my face, trying to gauge my expression, so I offered a smile that I hoped did not betray my pain and utter exhaustion. The ibuprofen was starting to work into my system, but I was beginning to understand the extent of the damage done by Mr. Robertson's belt, and I needed to get home to soak in Epsom salts as soon as possible. If he noticed my bluff, he did not call it: instead, he leaned down and trailed soft kisses from my collarbone, up my neck, and finally over my jaw to find my mouth. I trembled at these tender touches, melting into his arms and pushing my tongue into his mouth. Once again, he shut me down, chuckling at my eagerness and gently pushing me away from him.

"Go home, little one. You're more beat up than you realize, and the pain is going to catch up with you very soon. Take some time to recover and let me know when you feel ready for another play date. I'll see you very soon."