Disciplining a Slut

I'm preparing you for your date.

I pull your breasts out of your bra and out of the top of your dress. This makes you feel vulnerable and exposed. But I delight in embarrassing you.

I then put clamps on your nipples.

You complain that they're too tight and they hurt. But I make you wear them anyway. What you want doesn't matter. I smirk when I see you squirm in discomfort.

Then I order you to lay down on the bed. I pull your dress up to your waist and force you to open your legs for me, so I can get you wet for your date.

I feel you, running my fingers through your folds. I'm surprised to find that you're already extremely moist down there.

I laugh at you and call you a slut because you are wet almost all of the time.

I rub your pussy lips making you moan. And then I slide two fingers into your slick slit.

I tell you, in a soothing and condescending voice, what a good whore you are. And that you are good for nothing else.

I warn you that you had better fulfill your life's purpose. And I demand that you don't come home that evening unless your pussy is full of cum.

I remove the nipple clamps and order you to get up off the bed. You tuck your tits back into your bra and dress.

I observe that you're showing off a ridiculous amount of cleavage. Your date is going to assume that you're a massive whore.

I take my two fingers, which had just been in your pussy moments ago. And I insert them into your mouth, forcing you to clean them.

I once again reiterate that you had better come home with a cunt full of cum.

I playfully slap you on your ass and call you a good stupid little slut.

Then I open the door and send you out on your date.

***************

A couple of hours later, you return home.

I don't let you speak at first. After all, you're just a stupid whore. Why would you need to speak?

I casually shove you down onto the bed and command that you open your thighs.

As I'm inspecting you, I can see that your pussy is wet. But there doesn't appear to be any cum.

I spread your labia apart and look closely at your vagina. I ask you if your date had used a condom.

You reluctantly confess to me that actually, you didn't have sex at all that evening. You had not found your date to be particularly attractive. And you didn't want to sleep with him.

I frown disapprovingly. I'm irritated. I don't believe this to be a valid excuse.

It doesn't matter what you want. If I tell you to come home with cum in your pussy, that's what you're expected to do.

I explain to you that even if your date was unattractive, you should have just laid down, shut your mouth, and opened your legs.

I tell you that your opinion doesn't matter in that situation. Your purpose is to let men use you. And that you should be grateful to receive their cum.

I order you to put your hands above your head. I cuff your wrists to the headboard. I pull your dress all the way up to your neck.

I reach under you and unclasp your bra. I pull that up as well so your breasts are completely exposed. I handle them roughly and slap your left tit. You wince and I snicker.

I go over to the closet and pull out a riding crop. You cringe as you anticipate what might happen. I grin when I see the distressed look on your face.

I take the riding crop and use it to gently rub your right nipple. You involuntarily moan at this unexpected soft stimulation. You close your eyes as I massage the erect tip of your tit. You're starting to really enjoy the erotic sensation.

Suddenly I pull the riding crop away from your breast. You whine at the loss of stimulation.

I swiftly bring it back down again, giving your right nipple a stinging slap. You squeal in pain. I smile. I then use the riding crop to hit your left nipple. You cry out.

I alternate between hitting and massaging your nipples. This confuses you because you're not sure which type of sensation to expect. You beg me to stop. Your cries of pain amuse me.

I then slide the riding crop down your body and rest it between your legs. You begin pleading with me to stop. But I just laugh at you as I use the riding crop to rub your pussy lips. You whimper as I massage your wet slit.

But suddenly a better idea occurs to me.

I put down the riding crop and go to the kitchen. I open up the freezer.

Inside is a set of popsicle molds. A few days ago I had filled them with water so that they would be ready to use for such an occasion.

I pull out one of my homemade ice popsicles and return to the bedroom.

Puzzled, you ask me what I plan on doing with it.

I tell you that it's none of your concern. You are too stupid to understand. And you had better shut your whore mouth.

I take the ice popsicle and start rubbing it on your left inner thigh. You squeal and try to squirm away. But you're cuffed to the headboard and cannot go anywhere.

I drag the popsicle up your thigh so that it's almost touching your crotch. You beg me not to touch you there.

But I explain to you that this is the consequence for being a disobedient whore. I tell you that you're a stupid cunt who cannot follow simple instructions. So now you must be punished.

You ask me if I could possibly forgive you just this one time. I laugh and tell you to stop being so ridiculous and pathetic.

I begin rubbing the ice popsicle all over your clit and labia. You scream that it's too cold and beg me to stop. I cruelly shove it inside your twat. I grin as you wriggle around on the bed.

I twist it around inside your cunt, coating it in your juices.

I then pull the popsicle out of your pussy and bring it to your lips. It's half melted and covered in your own vaginal moisture. You grimace.

I order you to open your mouth. You hesitate. I threaten to shove it back into your cunt.

So you part your lips with a groan. I insert the popsicle into your mouth. I insist that you suck off all of your pussy juice. You cringe but comply.

After I'm satisfied that it's clean, I pull the popsicle out of your mouth and bring it back down between your legs again.

But this time, instead of reinserting it back into your pussy, I force it into your clenched ass.

You cry out in shock and discomfort. You implore me to take it out. But I tell you that it must stay inside of your ass until it's completely melted.

I then pick up my phone off of the bedside table and begin snapping pictures of your naked body.

You ask me what I am doing.

I inform you that the pics are going to be your new profile photos. And that I fully intend to find a big burly man that very night and invite him over to fuck you and fill your cunt with cum.

I head out into the living room and pull and begin to update your dating profile. Soon after, I begin swiping.

I decide that I might even invite two or three men over, if possible. I want your pussy to be overflowing.

Of course you remain in the bedroom cuffed to the headboard with the ice popsicle melting inside of your ass.

You shiver uncomfortably. But you know better than to bother me. This is what you get for not following your instructions.

If you're a good little slut, and you behave yourself by taking several loads in your pussy, I might just reward you. At the end of the night, I will stand over your naked body and stroke myself. And I will cum all over your face.

Because that is what you deserve.