Punishment: The Whore's P.O.V. Ch. 01

I could not believe you fucked her.

I had been living with you for a month, and I never left the house unless you sent me on errands or took me somewhere. I was at your disposal, available to you whenever you wanted me, for anything. And you exercised your right as my Master frequently, often making me drop whatever I was do to please you or to be used by you. You were sometimes brutal, but you never endangered my safety or abused me more than I could stand. My mouth, my cunt, my ass were ready for you anytime you wished.

Why on earth did you fuck her?

True, you are the Master and I am the whore, and you have no rules beyond the limits we agreed upon when I came to you, so you could do whatever you wanted. But you had me.

"Why would you fuck that slut from work, when I am always waiting, always willing to serve you?" I asked staring up from you at the kitchen floor with tears in my eyes. You had just walked in, and I was holding in my hand a copy of the email you had sent her yesterday. You knew I had gone snooping, rage boiling in your face, and I had hit floor to prevent you from knocking me down. "Why?" I repeated.

Through your clenched jaw you finally spoke: "You nosey whore. You don't control me, I control you!" With that you grabbed me by the hair. I crawled quickly to keep from having my hair torn out. You shoved me into our bedroom. "You're going to stay here tonight while I go out. It's Friday, and I'm not going to miss an evening with my friends just because you need to be punished. Filthy slut. I'll deal with you when I get home." You shut the door and I heard you lock it from the outside. Being sent to our room was usually the first step in my punishment when I had committed a grievous error, and you knew how much I hated it. "Don't even think about touching your cunt, whore. I can always tell when my bitch has been in heat." And then I heard you leave the house. I trembled with rage and fear. I was going to be punished because you cheated on me? No. Not this time.

My ego badly bruised and my heart shattered, I decided that if you could fuck around, then so could I.

You had installed a lock on the bedroom door, but you had never secured the windows, knowing that I adored you, and thinking I would never try to escape. But you were wrong. I went to our closet to look at what few articles of clothing you had let me keep when I came to you. Not much, and all very suggestive. I rarely wore clothes in the house, only if we were having guests, and everyone knew I was yours. It didn't matter though. I was going to go out and get fucked. I knew you wouldn't be back until the early hours of the morning, so I could sneak out and come back and you would never know. And if I was going to be punished, I wanted to deserve it.

Red button down blouse, black skirt, stockings, heels and a black lace thong. No bra. You hadn't let me keep any. "You're a whore," you had said. "I want you to look like one." I grabbed a small purse and took twenty dollars from your underwear drawer. I felt a twinge of guilt taking it, but I needed enough money to get a cab back home incase I ended up across town. I certainly wasn't going to need it for drinks.

I slipped out the window with only a little difficulty, due to the short skirt. For the first time in a month, I was not where you knew me to be. I felt naked, as though I had lost your protection. But I was determined. I took a deep breath and walked the fairly short distance to the seedy bar where all the town trash went on a Friday night. I knew you wouldn't be there; you would be at a friend's house playing poker until the wee hours of the morning.

I made it to the bar in record time, since it was already dark and I had been whistled at by at least a half dozen men. "Why shouldn't they whistle?" I thought. "I look like a whore." But rape wasn't what I had in mind. No, I wanted to go to another man freely, and punish you for going to another woman. This was payback.

The bar wasn't packed, but there were enough people for me to know that someone would take an interest in me. Most of the women seated at the bar looked to be over fifty. At twenty years old, I knew I was going to be the catch of the night. I sat down at the bar, and before the bartender could make it over to me a man sat down next to me and called for two tequilas. He smiled at me. "Tequila isn't my drink," I told him with a smile, "But if you're paying I'm game." He looked to be about fifty, not quite as tall as you but heavier set.

"If I'm paying," he said with a twinkle in his dark eye, "Then what are you game for?" "Fuck," I thought. "He thinks I'm a whore." I picked up the shot glass which the barkeep had set in front of me and downed it as fast as I could, hoping to steel my nerves. All it did was burn my throat.

I looked the stranger square in the eye and before I knew what I was saying, I told him, "I'm not a whore; I'm slut, so you don't have to pay." His eyes widened. He drank his own shot of tequila. I inhaled raggedly. He called for two more shots, but didn't say another word to me. We drank the tequila quickly, and then he reached for my hand and whispered, "Let's go." I rose, my knees barely supporting me, and we headed for the door.

But there you were, your rage greater than I had ever seen it before. "Oh God," I thought, "He's going to kill me." The man at my side dropped my hand, mumbled some apology to you, and returned to the bar. I don't know how long we stood looking at each other. Finally I spoke: "How did you find me?"

"I know where whores go around here when they're hungry for some cock." I winced. You grabbed my wrist – painfully – and pulled me outside. I thought you were going to take me home, but was surprised when you hauled me into a dark alley behind the bar.

"Filthy bitch!" You tore open my blouse, buttons flying everywhere.

"Please baby," I cried, "I'm sorry, I don-"

"Shut up!" You spun me around and slammed me against the wall. My delicate tits scraped against the bricks as you hauled my skirt over my ass. "Is this what you wanted? Huh? You whore! You wanted to get fucked outside some bar, like the filthy slut you are? Huh?"

"Please, I'm so sorry," I cried. "I'm so sorry, please..."

"Shut up!" You slammed me against the wall again. "You wanna get fucked? Well I'll oblige you then!" You grabbed the material of my thong, twisted and pulled, the fabric cutting into the most sensitive parts of my body. I screamed as it broke loose from my body. "Shut the fuck up, I'm going to give you something to scream about." You stuffed two fingers deep inside my cunt, and even though I was wet it stretched me uncomfortably. "Fucking slut," you spat. "Your slimy cunt's ready to get fucked isn't it? You couldn't wait for that old fuck to stuff his cock in you." You pumped my cunt a few more time with your fingers, hurting me but also turning me on. You heard me moan. "Fucking cunt! This is turning you on! We'll see how you like this...." You pressed your two fingers, covered in my cunt juices, against my tiny puckered asshole. Usually when you take my ass you are gentle and patient, waiting for me to open to you. But this was punishment. "Take it you bitch, take my fingers up your ass, because my cock is next." You twisted your fingers cruelly, and I began to cry. "Go ahead, slut," you growl, "Cry all you want. I'm going to rape your asshole."

"No!" I sobbed. You tore your fingers from my sore hole and brought your hand down on my ass. *SMACK* My tits scraped against the brick wall as I jumped.

"Don't you EVER tell me no!" *SMACK* You slapped the other cheek. "You understand me?"

I hesitated. *SMACK* "Yes Master," I cried, defeated.

"You cunt. Brace yourself." You spread my burning ass cheeks roughly and drove your cock deep into my asshole, slamming my entire body against the brick wall. I cried out, and you grabbed a fistful of my hair. "You bitch; you're going to take it. All of it." You leaned down and bit the side of my neck, as you continued to pound into my ass. My cries became grunts as I started to adjust to your cock stretching me. "You dirty whore, you're liking this, aren't you? Answer me!"

A breathless "Yes Master" was all I could manage. You continued to fuck me in silence, our moans and heavy breathing filling the air around us. My body betrayed me. You were trying to hurt me, to punish me, to remind me of who was in control, and I experienced pleasure through the pain.

The burning in my ass was unbearable, but I didn't want you to stop. You picked up your pace, you body slamming me into the wall faster, and faster; harder and harder, your balls slapping my drenched cunt in time. I don't know if you fucked me for three minutes or thirty, but when you came you filled my bowels with your liquid seed and bit my shoulder, drawing blood. We stood there for several moments, catching out breath until you finally slid your cock from my asshole. I moaned at the loss, and the pain. I sank to the ground, my knees unable to support me. You usually loved me, comforted me after intense, painful sex, but you leaned against the wall and bowed your head, as though praying to some dark god. Finally you spoke: "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't go back into that dive and tell every middle-aged fuck in there that there's a slut waiting in the alley to get her ass fucked." I started crying again. "Answer me now, or I'm going to get them."

I grabbed your leg and held onto you with all the strength I had left. I looked up at you, tears rolling down my face, make up smeared everywhere, and I answered: "Because I'm yours, Master." I buried my face against your leg and started crying uncontrollably, afraid that my simple answer would not sway you. But you didn't leave. You waited for my tears to subside, and when most of my sobbing had stopped, you said simply: "I still have to punish you for hacking into my email."

© MCW 2006