Marked

I'd been nervous about getting home since I left this morning. Dreading it actually. It was half tempted to find some errand I needed to run, just to stall, delay the inevitable. But I knew what was good for me; keeping you waiting would only make it worse. Now, walking home from campus as slowly as I could justify, I replayed last night's events over and over in my head.

We'd made plans with a couple of mutual friends to meet for drinks at the bar just down the street. We'd both gotten home earlier than expected and found ourselves with a surplus of time and no obligations until eight o'clock. After a marathon fuck session we turned to the alarm clock, already ten minutes late. We threw on clothes and I rushed to the bathroom to slap on some makeup and pull my hair back.

"Dammit! You marked me!" Looking back now I couldn't believe I'd been so stupid. But the words were out of my mouth before I had a chance to censor myself. I'd been so dismayed to see the bite marks standing out burgundy on my pale neck. We were going to be late and everyone would know why.

You stalked into the bathroom. "What did you say?"

"Well...it's just... I'm embarrassed. Our friends will know what we were up to. They're going to tease us all night." One look at you and I knew I'd said the wrong thing entirely.

"Embarrassed?" You grabbed my chin in one strong hand and pulled my head up roughly, tilting my neck towards the lights above the mirror. "You should relish every opportunity to be reminded of me. But, since you're worried about what our friends will think, we might as well clear things up tonight. You're a little whore and it's time everyone knew it."

You'd riffled through my drawers until you'd found my best push-up bra and that purple dress you love so much. The one I normally wear over jeans and a camisole. The plunging neckline garishly displayed an indecent amount of cleavage and the color perfectly accented the bruises that were already darkening across my collarbone and breasts. You'd ordered me out the door in my highest heels, and gaudy makeup. No panties, no stockings.

But I knew that this was not even the beginning of your punishment. You'd brooded all evening, only acknowledging my presence to shoot me an angry glare at any attempt to cover myself. You'd made me sleep on the floor last night and you had been gone when I woke up for class. No chance to apologize, and all day to agonize over my stupidity. I knew you'd be waiting for me at home, preparing a fitting punishment.

One look at you as I enter the apartment shows me I was right. You are standing rigidly by the door, your arms folded, an impatient scowl on your face. You have obviously been waiting for me, and for too long. You point down the hall to one of our kitchen chairs. It has been moved and is now sitting facing a wall at the end of the corridor leading to the living room. I walk unsteadily there and begin to sit down when I feel you roughly grabbing my hair. You tangle your fingers in between my curls and pull me off the chair and unto the floor.

"Get naked, now." As soon as I am undressed you seem to relax. You walk slowly in a circle around me. Appraising what you see, taking mental note it seems. You stand silently in front of me for a moment or two before slowly trailing a finger down my stomach and slipping you hand between my legs. Without warning you twist your hand and I feel two fingers inside me. I am already ridiculously turned on, and you smile. Just as suddenly you pull away, wipe my own wetness across my thigh before forcing my legs apart. You pull a spreader bar from beside the chair and cuff me to it. You bend me over behind the chair and tie my hands to its back.

"Not bad" you say admiring my round ass and my glistening pussy. You rub your large hand on my naked ass before drawing it back and smacking me hard. You rub that cheek again and pull back for another slap. Smack. Smack. Smack. Soon I can feel the heat radiating from my ass where your handprint is beginning to glow red. I'm breathing heavily, trying my best not to squirm as you minister to my punished backside. I hear a familiar, musical, beep: the camera turning on. You step back and photograph me, my legs spread wide, my damp cunt, but most importantly the red glow on my left cheek.

You turn off the camera and I hear you walk down to the hall to our toy-closet and rummage around. I'm sure you're enjoying keeping me waiting. I hear your heavy steps behind me and then a zing as your cane cuts through the air and lands with a resounding crack against my thighs.

"Count," you command.

"One," another stroke lands squarely on top of the last "...two..." another painfully accurate blow, I bite my lip "...three..." The next hit is an inch or two lower than the last three "...four..." the next two land in quick succession on top of the fourth "five, six" The last three are a little lower again and I scramble to count them out "seveneightNINE!" I wince, and you give my clit a quick rub, chuckling to yourself. I hear the camera once again as you take a couple close-ups of the three red lines gracing my thighs. Then I feel you press against me, hard cock through your pants. You trace your hand along my slit

"God you're wet you little slut!"

You fuck me quick and hard your hands slamming my hips back against you with every thrust, digging your fingers into my flesh, leaving bruises there too, I can feel exactly where they'll be. As soon as you finish you strap my collar and leash around my neck and untie me from the chair. But you leave my legs wide, still hooked to the spreader bar.

"Follow me." You take my lead and pull me towards the living room, hobbling as fast as I can, trying to keep pace with my ankles locked open like that. I almost fall several times as you jerk the leash. Your cum, mixed with my wetness, is leaking out of me as I totter behind you, drizzling slowly down my thighs. I begin to cry softly, unbelieving that there is still more coming after the pain, and now this humiliation.

In the living room you have me stand in front of a full-length mirror that you've set up. You unhook the leash and cuff my hands together, telling me to place them behind my head and stand still. You pull my bangs back from my face and clip them there, unflattering, and I can't fathom why. You reach down and wipe some of the cum off my legs, only to smear it across my mouth with a smirk.

"I want you good and dirty for this."

You bite my neck hard and pull something out of your pocket. Oh god, a sharpie. You tap one end against your chin as you look me up and down, mulling over all the things to write.

"I want you to read them all out to me as I write them," you grin "And any suggestions will help tremendously, might even speed it along. If your lucky."

'Cheap Whore' goes in across my breasts, 'Cumslut', on my stomach. I feel you spell out 'SLAVE' in block letters between my shoulder blades writing slowly so I can still 'read' it to you. 'Bitch, trash, scag, slut.' I read them quickly, my head hanging dejectedly as I list out the worse things you have ever called me. You pause and look over your work.

"I thought I asked for suggestions," you stare into my eyes.

"Cunt..." I mumble blushing.

"What was that?"

"Cunt, sir."

"Is that how you ask for favours?" You slap me hard across the face.

" Please sir," I sniffle, "would you write that I'm a cunt, please?"

"Of course my little slut, I would love to mark that on you." You scrawl it on my belly, "Anything else?"

"Would you please write fuck toy on me?" You grin and print it across my collarbone, nice and big. Pleased with how it looks you decide to elaborate. 'Fuckhole one', and a nice illustrative arrow go right above my pussy. I feel you label my ass as 'fuckhole two', and then you grab my chin, pull it up and write 'fuckhole three' and an arrow pointing up right on my neck.

"It might be turtle necks for a while dear, this is permanent marker."

I moan in dismay and you rub my clit gently in consolation, smirking the entire time. "No complaints now, you brought this on yourself."

"I'm sorry, sir. Thank you for labeling your whore sir."

"That's better, good girl."

Soon I am completely covered it your marks. Bites, bruises, strokes and lettering. I take stock of myself in the mirror, completely pathetic. Tear stained cheeks, slurs I begged for covering my body and old cum beginning to dry on my thighs. I'm ashamed to see that I'm already so wet it's dampening again with my own juice, ever so slightly, but I'm sure you've noticed too. You pull out the camera again and take photos of my degradation from all angles and I stand eyes lowered, not even bothering to protest as you snap shot after humiliating shot of my battered, dirty body.

When you are done you un-cuff my wrists and ankles. 'Finally,' I think, 'It's finally over.'

"Oh dear, I seem to have forgotten my last touch." You grab me by the hair, pull out your sharpie and I feel it mark 'WHORE' right across my forehead. I break down sobbing as you take one last picture.

I move to head towards the bed. You grab my wrist.

"Not yet you dumb bitch! We've dealt with your little problem about getting marked, but we still haven't addressed the fact that you said you were embarrassed for people to know that I fuck you." You open the door to our balcony and point.

By now it's late at night, just late enough for all of the bar goers to be walking home outside our second floor apartment. You bend me over me over our low concrete railing, placing me so my tits are right against the rough surface; by the end my nipples will be rubbed raw. You unzip your pants and pull my hands behind my back holding them there as you slowly enter and begin to fuck my dripping cunt. I wince as my breasts rub against the railing and hope none of the passers by have heard. Thankfully no one has noticed. You thrust hard and send my breasts scraping against the concrete to dangle over the edge, bouncing every time you pound against me. I moan as the cold air hits my sore nipples.

"It appears that no one seems to be noticing our little escapade" you grunt "Even with your nice big tits flopping all over like that. Even with you labeled cheap whore."

'Thank God', I think to myself. And then I utter an echoing scream. You've pulled out of my cunt and thrust as hard as you can into my tight, unprepared asshole. Your cock is slick from my pussy but not nearly lubed enough for your immense girth.

My scream has finally attracted the attention of a few late-night party-goers. They call out to their friends to stop and watch the show. You continue ravaging my ass mercilessly as you reach forward and rub my aching clit furiously. Moans of pleasure and grunts of pain escape me rhythmically, nothing like a degraded girl groaning in pleasure to get some captivated onlookers. I can feel the tension mounting in my pussy, I can't bear the thought of it but I can't hold back. I can feel you cock twitching in my ass, aching to release. I cum hard, releasing a low shuddering moan, visibly shaking. My knees give out beneath me and I let myself fall against the railing, completely spent. In one deft move you pull out of my poor ass, spin me to the side and come across my face. Spurt after spurt of hot cum dripping down my cheeks, over my lips, pooling on my chin and dropping to my red swollen tits.

"What do you say?" you whisper in my ear. I mumble the words, sobbing a little.

"Audibly" you command.

"Thank you sir." My voice carries well through the night air.

Complete silence from the boys bellow. Then, a low whistle, someone begins to clap, a loud catcall. Laughing.

You bow ever so slightly. I whimper quietly, I cannot wait to shower, curl up in bed and try to forget this ever happened, at least until the marks confront me tomorrow. I hear you call out across the crowd, although it sounds like your voice is coming from a million miles away.

"Thank you gentlemen, it's been so good of you to stay for the show. I think you can read the writing even in this dim light," he gestures with a flourish, "Fucktoy? Cheap Whore? The suite number's 212, and the door's open!"

You lean down and whisper in my ear,

"This ought to teach you to be grateful to fuck me." You grin and walk into the living room to greet our guests.