To Tell the Truth

"...Sir?" I slid my knuckles softly across the door jamb to his office.

He spun around in his computer chair to look at me. "Yes, darling?"

I nervously flicked my hair behind my ears and looked at the floor. The silence dragged on for too long.

"Is everything okay?" Now there was a tinge of concern in his voice. Already, he had gotten up and was moving toward me.

"No. I mean... yes. Everything's fine. It's just..." I blushed and bit my lip, as his big arms wrapped around me, drawing me into his chest.

"Just what?" He pulled us apart enough to allow his hand to cup my chin and tilt my head up. He raised his eyebrows, as his thumb ran over my flushed cheek. "What's going on?"

I let out a shaky breath, suddenly regretting beginning this exchange. I tried to look at the floor again.

"No." His voice was harder now. "Tell me what's going on." He paused. "...Now." The grip on my chin got tighter.

A small whine escaped my lips. "I want..." I started. "I want...a spanking."

He narrowed his eyes. "And why was that so hard to tell me?"

"And..." I trailed off, wishing I could avert my eyes from him, but his fingers were already digging painfully into my jaw. I felt my blush creep further up my face.

"And what?"

"I..." I felt my chest cave in. "And I want you to wash my mouth out with soap." I let the words tumble out, before I lost my nerve. My torso burned. I had never said those words to anyone. It was one of those weird kinks that I normally didn't tell people about, because it was so fucking embarrassing.

But the craving was making me ache.

And he had always been so understanding, I thought... maybe, you know? But as I watched a shadow of bewilderment wash over his face, I regretted asking. Insecurity blossomed through my body, making me want to melt into the wall.

Goddamn, I thought to myself. You're so fucked up. What can't you keep your mouth shut?

My face became hotter as my internal tirade continued.

He dropped my chin and drew me in close to him again, holding the side of my head so I could hear his heartbeat. Strong, dependable, solid. Just like him. I relaxed into him, unconsciously, letting some of my nerves ease themselves.

"Hmm," I heard him say from above me. He didn't sound particularly excited... just, processing, maybe.

Dammit, I thought. Fuck.

He uncurled us and led me by the hand to his big leather chair, situating me on his lap. I purred as our bodies fit together so perfectly, so easily.

"Well," he began, cradling me. "To be honest I've never considered it." He paused. "So I'm going to ask you to tell me what you've done to deserve something like that." He rubbed his thumb on my bottom lip, forcing my mouth open for him. "Does my little slut have a dirty mouth?" he smirked, raising his eyebrows again.

Fuck. Now my insides were tightening for a different reason.

I closed my eyes, then opened them slowly, blinking with the most angelic expression I could contrive. "No, Sir... Well, I guess not any fucking worse than normal." I looked up at him, as my blush burned my cheeks.

"You're such a fucking brat," he chuckled. "Think you run things around here."

"I do, actually," I said with false bravado, lifting my chin. I loved to poke the sadist.

"We'll see." He kicked me out of his lap and gave me a little push out the door. "Go stand in the corner and edge for me."

I grinned, in spite of myself, and padded off to our bedroom. I faced the corner, winding my fingers down the front of my shorts and between my pussy lips. I was wet already. It didn't take long running my fingers over my swollen clit for me to hit my first edge. I stopped and leaned my head against the wall to catch my breath and let the impending orgasm fade.

As soon as I was sure I wasn't going to go over, I began again. I thought about Sir's hand on my bare ass, and the burning sting of his spankings. I thought about the awful taste of soap, and had to stop again before I came. I swore under my breath and closed my eyes, as I tried to regain control of my breathing.

I heard water running in the bathroom behind me, and what sounded like a container being filled.

"Stand up straight. No slouching," he growled suddenly from somewhere behind me.

Immediately I stood back up, perfectly straight. I whined as my fingers slid over my sensitive flesh.

"Good girl."

I gasped and pulled my hand away. I could feel my pussy clenching; I loved to hear those words from him.

Good girl. Good girl, I thought. Be his good girl. It was like a mantra in my head.

"Please, Sir," I begged, my words sounding too loud from being so close to the wall. "Please... Sir..." I didn't even know if he was still there to hear me. But I was so close, so very close.

"Not yet, darling." I could hear the pleased smile on his face.

I imagined him casually leaning in the doorway, watching me edge myself. "Fuck... Sir..." I whimpered, wrapping my around my torso, so I didn't go over.

"Mmm," his voice was like the promise of a storm, and it made my breath catch. "You do have a dirty mouth." I heard him walk behind me, and felt him wrap his hand around the back of my neck. "How did I never notice this before?" His fingers crept into my hair, and he made a fist.

I winced.

In one fluid motion, he spun me around and flung me to the ground, so I was kneeling clumsily in front of him. I cried out as his grip tightened, and he worked with practiced skill to undo the front of his jeans. "Maybe you should show me what other dirty things you can do with your mouth."

"Yes, Sir," I replied, breathy. I licked my lips as I worked the waistband over his hips. He stepped out of the pool of denim, his cock hard and ready, and he sat down on the edge of the bed. I closed the distance between us on my hands and knees, trying to remember to arch my back to give him the best view. I smiled, seeing the hunger in his eyes.

I impaled my mouth on his cock, savoring the stretch in my jaw. I licked the shaft up and down, dragging my soft tongue slowly over all the parts I knew he liked. I pushed him down into my throat, feeling the sting of tears as I breached my gag reflex.

He murmured huskily, and replaced his hand on the back of my head. He followed my motion until I had him completely swallowed, and then he held my head still with his cock fully down my throat. "That's in, slut. Take my cock in your dirty little mouth."

My tears dripped down from the invasion, and my lungs burned for air. Relax, I kept trying to tell myself. Just relax and let him use you. I loved the feeling of him in my throat, past the barrier of my comfort. I loved when he used me. Just relax. Just relax, I repeated to myself.

I got half a second worth of breath as he lifted my head up, but my relief was short-lived. He began to face fuck me in earnest, all the way out and all the way in, opening my throat to him. Tears flowed freely down my face as he used my face to masturbate himself. I could feel my empty pussy clench, and I moaned; the vibration encouraged him to accelerate his efforts.

I felt him get even harder, and I knew he was close. He pulled me completely off of him, ropes of saliva stretching from my mouth to every part of his cock. "Slut," he said, breaking the slimy strings and drawing them across my face. My pussy dripped, and I felt like there was a hole in my chest. "Do you like being my dirty little whore?"

I nodded. "Yes, Sir."

I watched him draw back slightly, just before a thick ball of his own spit landed right above my right eyebrow. I quivered as I felt it ooze into the hollow of my eye socket. "Oh, gods... please, Sir..." I begged. "Can I touch, please?" I looked up at him, half my vision swimming in slime.

He laughed, the kind that made my insides crumple. "You're disgusting. Later, maybe... if you're good." He palmed his cock. "Now get back to work."

I watched him work himself expertly, covering his entire length with each stroke. I began to lick his balls, then gently sucking each one into my mouth.

He groaned. "Oh, good slut. I like that." He slid himself forward on the bed. "You know what else I might like, whore?"

I looked up at him, my tongue working around his balls gently. "What, Sir?"

He put his hand on the top of my head and pushed me further down. I froze. He never had asked me to lick him... down there. It was too dirty. Too much. I pushed back against his hand, slowly shaking my head.

"Sir... please, no. Not there," I pleaded softly. "Let me suck your cock some more. Please."

"Do you want me to wash your mouth out, or not?" he asked.

My breath caught, as I recognized where this was going. "Yes, Sir."

"Then show me what a dirty little mouth you have. Get that tongue on my ass."

A lump welled up in my throat as I let him push me all the way down between his legs. I found his puckered hole, and I gave it a tentative lick.

"Oh, fuck..." I heard him sigh.

Encouraged, I flattened my tongue and licked it over again. I felt so dirty, putting my mouth there. So dirty, and surprisingly... hot. The taste was different than the rest of him, but not awful. Once I felt like he was sufficiently wet, I dipped the tip of my tongue inside.

I was rewarded with another groan from above me.

I worked my way further inside him, alternating with swirling laps around the outside. He was smooth inside, and tasted musky and only a bit bitter. As I continued, I thought about what I was doing, and where my mouth was; emotions churned in my mind. Arousal, humiliation, devotion, revulsion. More arousal. I picked up my pace.

"Fuck, I didn't think you'd be such a natural ass licker." He sounded hoarse. He grabbed my hair again and dragged me so I was again faced with his cock. I had never seen it so hard, it seemed ready to burst. I could trace the veins to its bulging purple head, and I reached with my tongue to lick it.

"No, not yet, my sweet little whore. You're going to take your punishment, and then I'll decide whether I'll let you finish me off." Lust and cruelty painted his face.

It was hard to breathe, I was so horny and so nervous. I loved when he toyed with me. Especially when he made it hurt. "Yes, Sir," I said, a little too quickly.

"Are you ready, then?" He looked at me. I nodded. "Then take off those cute little shorts and lie across my lap."

I swallowed, tasting the last remnants of his asshole on my tongue. When was he going to wash my mouth out? I wanted that, and I was impatient; more than a hint of brattiness must have shown on my face as I wiggled out of my jean shorts and pink panties.

His voice was dark. "Something wrong, darling?" He pulled me closer to him, so I was standing, half-dressed, between his legs. In this position, I was only a few inches taller than him.

"No, Sir." I studied the floor to the left of us.

"Did you want to do something else?"

"No, Sir. Please give me a spanking."

He paused, considering. "Well, that's half the truth. Which --" he cupped my butt bare butt cheeks, "Means that you've told me half a lie. And how do I feel about you lying to me?"

My eyes shot wide open. I knew what happened when I lied to him. Memories of welts and bruises and sobbing swam through my mind. I couldn't do that again. "No! Please, Sir. I didn't mean... " I began to cry. "I didn't mean to... I just wanted to do what you ... wanted."

He gathered me into arms and sat me onto his lap. "But you asked me something very specific today. What was it that you wanted?"

I blushed, and my tears felt cool on my face.

"Surely you're not embarrassed by what you want me to do to you?" His tone was so patronizing, it hurt.

My cheeks burned, and I couldn't look at him. I nodded, slowly.

"You are?" He tipped my chin up. "Now, why is that?"

I felt as if a hot knife were carving out my guts. "Sir, please... Please, it's so weird. I'm sorry. I just don't know... I just don't know why I want you to ... do it to me."

"Do what, little slut?"

Fuck.

I sighed, my breath quivering. "Wash... my mouth out. With soap." New tears began to fall, but whether they were from desire, humiliation, or need, I could not say.

Some little piece of my mind cracked a bit under the swirl of emotions, and I let out a slow breath. I needed it. I needed it so badly. "Please, Sir. Please wash my dirty mouth out." My arousal was drowning my embarrassment.

I needed it.

He smiled. "I'd be happy to. But first I think I need to remind you to always tell me the truth." In one smooth motion he flipped me over, so I lay across his lap, ass exposed and vulnerable.

His slaps started out feeling lovely and perfect, and I moaned as he warmed me up. Soon enough, though, the continued assault became increasingly painful, and I was squirming and crying to try to dodge the blows. My efforts were in vain, as they always were with him; he didn't stop until my ass felt blistered and true tears were running down my face.

He stood me up again, and my hands flew around my back to rub my butt cheeks.

"Now what do you say, slut?"

"I'm sorry... Sir," I choked out between errant sobs. "...For lying to you." I met his eyes. "Thank you for... punishing me." My breathing was heavy.

He drew me between his legs again, and I winced as his hands brushed over my battered skin on the way to cradle the sides of my face. His lips were soft, but firm, as he bent my head to kiss my forehead. "Of course, darling. You know lying doesn't help anyone. You should always tell me the truth. Always."

"Yes, Sir."

"And it had better be all of the truth." There was the threat of continued violence in his voice.

I nodded. "Yes, Sir."

"Now let's do something about that dirty little mouth of yours, shall we?" A grin spread across his face.

I gasped, I couldn't help it. "Yes, please, Sir." I bit my lip to keep myself from grinning back at him. I was only half successful, tears beginning to dry on my cheeks.

He motioned me to the bathroom, and I padded lightly into the gleaming white room. The rush of cool air on my butt made my pussy clench. The two of us stood in front of the big mirror, his tall body dwarfing me. I saw he had set out a brand new bar of soap in a small dish of water. Suddenly I was very nervous, and not sure at all that this was what I really wanted to do.

I looked up at his reflection, eyes wide. "Sir, I'm scared."

He reached a hand around me to cup one of my tiny breasts, gently rubbing across my sensitive nipple. "Why is that, darling?"

I moaned under his ministrations, nearly forgetting what was sitting in front of us. "I'm scared it'll taste bad."

He made an expression of theatrical consideration, as he continued to play idly with my body. "I imagine it will, yes."

My breathing got heavier. "I'm still scared."

He pinched my nipple, not enough to hurt, but enough to send bolts of energy directly to my clit. I closed my eyes as I felt the pleasure build. "Do you want to stop?" he asked. And, as if to punctuate his point, he let go of my breast.

"No..." I whined, unsure of what I was responding to -- his question or the sudden absence of his hand.

"Hmm," he said, reaching across to play with my other nipple.

I watched him in the mirror, expertly working the small bud. His other hand snaked between my legs to rub gently between my pussy lips. My breath got short as my body was reminded of my earlier edging. My nervousness began to dissipate as renewed arousal flooded my mind.

"Well, I'd be lying to you if I said I didn't enjoy you when you're scared." His voice was darker, filled with the promise of things hard and painful. "But I want to make sure that you're okay, before we continue."

I moaned as he continued teasing my sensitive bits.

"So tell me why you want this. Tell me why you want me to wash your mouth out."

I stopped breathing for a moment, suddenly not wanting him privy to my personal depravities. Then, although I was sure it'd earn me some more punishment, I recognized the easy way out of his question. "Because I licked your asshole, Sir. And now my mouth is dirty." I sucked on my top lip, as I tried to make my eyes as round as possible. Sometimes I couldn't resist being a brat.

His fingers dropped my nipple and wrapped themselves painfully through my hair. He pulled my head to the side and kissed the side of my neck, making me shiver. "No," he said, voice muffled by my skin. "But nice try, you disgusting little whore. Tell me what I want to hear. Now." He smiled when he said it, so his words came out beautifully condescending.

I was nearly overcome with that heady mix of pain and pleasure, between his lips on my neck and his fingers in my hair, and the menace in his voice. The struggle to form coherent sentences was compounded by the fluttering waves of humiliation rippling through my belly. What could I say that would satisfy him? My body was hot everywhere, and not just from his... attention.

I needed this. I needed to be broken open. I didn't want to tell him, but I knew that I needed to. There was something deep inside me that craved to bask in every awful truth about myself.

Fuck.

My face, my torso, my pussy melted into resignation. I slumped in his arms, as far as his grip would let me go.

"That's it," he soothed. "Submit." He pulled my head back, so I had no choice but to look at myself in the mirror. "Watch yourself surrender to me. Watch yourself admit to all the nasty things in your little brain."

I watched the tiny woman in the mirror take shallow breaths from her shoulders, her lips parted. I imagined long trails of bitter, soapy drool spilling out from between them. I shuddered.

How could I begin to explain? "Sir..." I started.

"Yes, slut?" His voice held an edge that made my cunt clench. It was not kind.

"Sir, I need..." I paused, and then gave in to him. "I need you to make me cry."

He sucked in a breath. "I know that. And you know I love your tears." His fingers resumed their assault on my pussy. "But why this? Tell me that. Tell me why you need this, in particular." He motioned to the waiting bar of soap in the dish.

My mouth was dry, as my orgasm slowly built. "Because... I want you to make it worse. Make me suffer for you. I want... to suffer for you."

A small moan escaped his lips. "That's it, slut. Now go on," he pushed. "Tell me why you need this one particular part of you to suffer."

I began to quiver. "Because I need... I need to allow... allow you to punish my mouth. I want to be... complicit." My breathing was short and fast, now. I was very close to the edge of orgasm. "You can always tie me up... and spank me... but I need to open my mouth for this. I need to allow you in, to do it. I need to cooperate. To accept." My words spilled out in an awkward heap.

As if on cue, his fingers slowed, keeping me on the precipice of my satisfaction.

I groaned. "Please, Sir..." I begged, although I knew not for what. "Please..."

"Please, what?"

"Please... oh gods. ...Please make it worse."

He picked up his pace again.

"Please..." I panted. "Please make me suffer for you. Please... help me submit. Let me help you make it worse for me. Please show me that you can hurt every part of me. I want to help you do it... Sir, I want to surrender... I want you to do awful things to me... Please hurt me. Please make me suffer for you." The words flowed out and filled the space around us. If he hadn't been holding me, I'm sure I would have collapsed.

I watched us, and I watched him, in the mirror. He worked his jaw silently, never breaking the rhythm of his fingers. Back and forth, over my increasingly slick lips. I became aware of his hardness against the small of my back.

The grip on my hair loosened, as a torrid smile cracked across his lips. His hand dropped to rest on the back of my neck, making me shiver for him. I loved when he held me there.