Taking What's His

"God, you're such a fucking ass-eating slut. You love this, don't you?" His breathing is shallow, and I redouble my efforts.

Without skipping a beat, I nod my head vigorously and moan again. I am an ass-eating, cock-sucking slut, I do want to exist purely to satisfy his every sadistic whim. I want to be broken in, until my every thought and desire boils down to being just an eager cum receptacle.

I hear his sharp intake of breath, then feel him withdraw. Fuck, I thought I had him.

I keep my tongue out, a standing invitation to use my mouth. Having most of my face covered seems to strip away my dignity, my intellectualism, even my sense of self.

Suddenly, I feel his hands on my tits, gently fluttering over my hard nipples.

"You don't know what you're playing with, little one. I'm going to fucking ruin you."

I arch my back, mentally pleading to have my tits played with, when his tender caresses turn savage. He pinches my nipples hard, pulling on them through the fabric of my pajamas, and I whimper.

"I've been wondering what your tits look like, what kind of nipples I'll be torturing... I imagine you've got some huge tits under there, nipples like peachy Hershey's kisses. I guess there's only one way to find out. Don't move."

The now-familiar sensation of cold steel shocks me back into reality and I shudder. I am at complete mercy to this absolute stranger, a hair's breath away from real danger. I should be terrified and disgusted, looking for any way to escape, but the truth is: I want to be ravaged by this brutal intruder.

He starts to cut my clothes off and the cool air hitting my skin makes it explode in a sea of goosebumps. I do my best to slow my breathing as the knife continues to cut more and more away. The man grabs one nipple, pulling it taut towards the ceiling, while he cuts the shirt away from my tits. It feels somehow clinical, impersonal even, like opening a stubborn package. I fucking love it. The scraping of the knife, the occasional poke, the need to stay still, it all begins to scramble my brain for good, and I manage a weak:

"Please."

The man pauses and presses the tip of his knife against my nipple, the sharp pain making my eyes water.

"Please what? Unless the next words out of your mouth are "please use my cum-hungry body until you're spent, Sir," I have no use for your whining."

My tits now entirely free, he slaps one, then the other, musing to himself: "Nice jiggle, wish you could see it..."

He slaps my tits over and over, steadily, methodically, as the stinging pain dissolves into unbearable pleasure. I bite my lip, struggling to keep quiet, when I suddenly feel a hot tongue lash at a nipple. I moan deeply in spite of my myself, my pussy pulsing with pleasure, my clit engorged and desperate for stimulation. He licks one nipple, then the other, and just as I can no longer control my moaning, he bites down. I scream and thrash, the pain and the pleasure intertwining in a dance so dangerous it threatens to annihilate my world. He holds me down expertly, and I fear I'll cum right there, humiliating myself completely.

He chuckles: "I can smell your wet cunt from here, and I wasn't even trying to make you cum."

I stifle a sob, partly from frustration and partly from my increasingly desperate need to cum until I pass out.

He continues to cut away my clothes, my shirt now in tatters, my pants ripped all the way up to my waist. He tears the remaining scraps off me and presses his knife against my wet panties. At this point, I whimper continuously, spreading my legs without even meaning to. He pokes little holes all over my panties, scraping at my skin. I stay dutifully still, aware of the fact that with one sudden jolt I can be seriously hurt.

He grabs my pussy with his entire hand, squeezing hard.

"Now that's the wettest cunt I've ever seen. Almost a pity I won't be cumming in it."

He mashes my pussy in his hand and rips off the last shreds of my panties. The cold air hitting my wetness makes me shiver, and the promise of having my ass fucked pushes me so close to the edge I want to scream.

Without warning, he slaps my hungry cunt, sending flecks of my juices flying through the air. I grit my teeth and groan, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of cumming just yet. I've got this, I think.

He grabs my legs and forces them open as wide as they'll go, my pussy on obscene display. I can feel my juices glistening on my thighs, dripping down my crack into my ass. He pauses momentarily and softly trails his fingers up and down my slit:

"This is going to hurt."

He slaps my cunt hard, again and again. I wail in protest, but fail to wiggle away from his strong grasp. He continues to rain powerful, relentless blows on my tender pussy, and as I yelp and moan, he lectures:

"I will allow you to cum only after you accept your place. Repeat after me: I'm a filthy slut."

I muster the last bit of willpower I have, and hiss:

"No, damn you, fuck, no!"

His assault on my swollen cunt is unyielding, and I don't think I can hold on any longer.

"I'm just telling you the truth. You're a filthy slut whose only purpose is to be fucked, used and abused in any way I see fit."

The last slap sends me over the edge and I lose all decorum, wailing:

"Yes, Sir, I'm just a filthy slut, please use me, hurt me, fuck me, I'm just a set of holes to destroy, please please pleeeeeeeease!"

He grabs my cunt roughly, rubbing his hand quickly back and forth and my world is undone. My eyes roll back in my head, the pleasure so overwhelming that my orgasm comes in waves, each more powerful than the next. I lose myself entirely, I feel my cunt squirt all over his hand, then an indescribable sense of peace comes over me. All I want to do is please this stranger, this cruel, incredible stranger who broke me.

I slowly drift back into my body, sensing a strong hand gripping my hair through the pillowcase, and another hand turning me over onto my stomach. I have no more fight in me: my last orgasm was more intense than anything I've experience in my entire life. Whoever this man is (and I'm pretty sure I know), he's given me more pleasure in the last hour than I've felt in entire relationships.

"Good girl. Seems you've been holding onto that orgasm for ages, huh?"

I groan out a soft: "Mmhmm," still basking in the afterglow, when I hear a whoosh through the air, followed by the unmistakable sting of my cane on my ass cheeks. Fuck, I thought I put it away!

The sting turns into a tingling warmth, and I lean into the sensation, wiggling my hips.

"Huh. You really do like it when I hurt you, my little pain slut."

I fucking knew it! It's the mover from earlier today, and the thought that he knows me is so humiliating, that I simultaneously moan and do my best to wriggle away for the last time. I'm so turned on, I ache. A strong hand holds me down, pressing my face into the mattress, and I involuntarily stick my ass up, hungry for more.

"I need to make sure you remember me for a while."

His voice is thoughtful, and do I detect a note of longing in there? Before I can try and overanalyze everything, as is my specialty, my ass explodes into white-hot pain as he rains the cane strokes upon me. He is methodical, calculated, and somehow never hits the same spot twice. I break into a sweat, my breathing quickening, and I struggle to process the speed with which he doles out my punishment. The pain turns into pleasure which turns into pain which turns into pleasure and I feel the familiar heat of another orgasm build in my pussy.

"Please, I need to cum, please," I beg.

"Please what, slut?"

He barely stops to speak. My head is swimming with the endorphins flooding my system. I'm about to float away into subspace, when I manage:

"Please, Sir, please, this filthy fucking whore needs to cum, I beg you, Sir."

As quickly as the punishment began, it stops. The hand pressing my head into the mattress lets go, and I sob in frustration.

"Hold your ass cheeks open for me."

I obey without question. The thought that this stranger is about to take me in this way, with me wantonly exposing my puckered butthole, makes my hands shake with desire. I grab my ass and pull my cheeks apart. The rush of cold air on my ass makes me shiver, the thought of just being a cum receptable for his cock makes my cunt pulse, constantly keeping me on the edge of an orgasm.

I feel him squirt lube onto my ass, rubbing it into my hole. The lube makes a wet, squishing sound, and I am struck by the depravity of holding my own ass open for this intruder. I mentally applaud myself for using butt plugs while I masturbate daily, otherwise I'd be in for a world of hurt -- I remember how massive his cock was when it was lodged down my throat.

I feel the head of his cock press against my well-lubed ass and I do my best to relax. He pushes so slowly, I can feel every millimeter of my anal muscles stretch impossibly. I grip my cheeks in my hands, spreading myself even wider, willing his cock inside of my slutty ass.

He pauses, his breathing a little less even than before:

"Tell me, what are you? If I like the answer, I'll keep going."

My fingertips are squeezing my cheeks so hard, they must be turning white. I can't hold on, any sense of decorum, of ego, even shame goes out the window, as I moan:

"This anal slut only exists for your pleasure, Sir. Please." I push my ass up over and over, desperate to impale my hungry hole onto more cock, desperate to please, to be used and defiled and...

He shoves the entire length of his cock deep into my ass, filling me up more than I've ever been filled up more. He uses his entire body to ram my ass, my cheeks jiggling with every thrust, his balls slapping my sopping cunt with obscene wet sounds.

An earth-shattering orgasm is about to hit me like a train, I can't stop it. He must sense it, because he growls:

"Cum for me. Milk my cock with your ass, you fucking slut." He punctuates his point with powerful thrusts that push me over the edge and my world is undone.

I cum while he fucks my tender ass, I cum while he ramps up the intensity, I cum while he roars and unloads ropes and ropes of hot, sticky cum into my ass, I keep cumming as he withdraws. I don't know how long my orgasm is, but I feel my entire body shake with ecstasy for what feels like hours.

Through the haze of incredible bliss, right on the verge of sleep, I manage to ask:

"Why?"

He walks over to me. Just before sleep overtakes me, I feel him take my hand and he kisses it tenderly.

"I just needed to take what's mine."