Your Tormentor Ch. 02

At the end of the hall, he releases his grip on your wrist, and casually pushes you up against the wall.

"Now," he says, face close to yours, expression hard and flat. "I want you to be a good little slut for me, okay? I know you want to be good for me, and I won't ask you to do anything more whoreish than anything you've already done for me online." Not that that narrows it down much. "But if you disobey me, I'll punish you. Understand, bitch?"

You nod, eyes locked on his. You're trying to look sincere, but you're not sure if you *feel* sincere. You let go in the elevator, when let those strangers ravish your breasts and your mouth, but that was it. Now that you're back in your regular headspace, you can't imagine being that girl again.

Something in your gaze must be less than genuine, because his hand comes up to grip your throat. "I'm not going to complain if I have to punish you," he says. "The only one crying will be you. So if you fuck up like the worthless, stupid little whore that you are, remember that all I asked you to do was obey me."

You close your eyes against a fresh welling of tears. How could this happen to you? You thought you were so careful about hiding your identity online. But this man recognised you on the street after a moment and dragged you to his hotel, and now you're forced to be his fucktoy until he releases you, or face the consequences.

As one tear slides hopelessly down your face, you hear him laugh.

"Cheer up, whore," he says. "It's not that bad! I know you'll love everything I'll make you do."

Your tears, as well as amusing him, seem to satisfy him. He lets go of your throat and steps back.

When you manage to regain your composure and open your eyes, he's standing in front of the now open door. He clicks his fingers, and you stare at him, uncomprehending.

"Hands and knees, slut."

You cringe, but drop to the floor almost automatically. A few of the men you talk to online love to watch you crawl around on all fours, pretending to be so worthless that you're barely more than an animal. The command is so familiar to you that it's almost second nature to obey it, even when you don't want to. He grins at you, like he understands how easy it was for you.

"Good girl," he says approvingly, and something in your cunt twinges. You have something of an inappropriate reaction to that phrase. "Now come along," he says, speaking like an owner to a dog that wasn't very good at following orders. "Get inside, bitch."

You hang your head in shame, but crawl on your hands and knees into his hotel room. You shiver when your bare arm brushes against his trouser leg.

The room, or suite, as you realise, seems spacious and airy from your vantage point. You've crawled into a large, open living area, with a handful of doors leading in different directions. Behind a large couch you can see the far wall is all glass; there's a balcony beyond it. You crawl far enough inside that you give your tormentor plenty of space to walk around you, and then stop. Sometimes online you can almost follow orders that haven't been given yet, anticipating correctly what they want from you, but you can't tell how this man wants to torment you.

"Slut," he says loudly, as the door closes, and you look up automatically. You cringe a moment after you do. You can't *believe* you just answered to "Slut". He looks pleased that you did, though, and you can't help but feel an answering reaction.

"Kneel," he continues after a moment of silent eye-contact, and you, again, obey without thinking. It's not so much that you *want* to be a good slave for him, as it is that you almost can't help but be good. You've spent so much time obeying people online, it really has become second nature for you to drop into this headspace where you obey basically unthinkingly.

He steps close, and strokes your head for a moment, running his long blunt fingers through the silken strands of your hair. "Good girl," he purrs again, and you shiver under his touch. "You like that, don't you," he adds. You've already humiliated yourself enough today, you decide, and refuse to answer.

In response to your disobedience, his hand clenches tight in your hair.

You yelp, hands coming up to try to free yourself from his grip. His other hand swoops down immediately, trapping both your wrists in his grasp. His grip on your hair only tightens, pulling back so that you're forced to look up at him.

"Tut tut," he says reprovingly. "And you were going so well, too."

You gasp in pain, tears running free down your face. At this moment you'd do anything to make him let go.

"Please," you beg. "I'm sorry!"

"I don't think you *are* sorry," he says. "I think you just wish I wasn't punishing you. But what did I say?"

"You said," you gasp, wrists and scalp burning, trying to think. "You said if I should obey you and not fuck up?"

"I said you were a whore. And you are, aren't you? A worthless, stupid little slut?"

"Ye-es," you whine. "I'm a stupid slut! I'm sorry, please. I won't fuck up again, I promise!"

He releases you, and you fall in a graceless heap to the ground.

"Good," he says. "See that you don't, bitch."

You blink away tears, and nod in his vague direction.

"Now, where were we?"

You crawl closer to him on your hands and knees, and kneel again, massaging your sore wrists when you get a chance. You can't help but flinch when his hand slides into your hair again, and he chuckles.

"I'm not going to hurt you unless you do something to deserve it...again," he reassures you.

His free hand comes down to unbutton and unzip his pants, and you understand exactly where this is going. He frees his cock from his underwear, before wrapping his hand around your throat.

"You always talk about how much you *love* to suck cock," he smirks at you. "Time to prove it, slut."

You do love to suck cock. You have something of an oral fixation, honestly. You're always sliding your toys into your mouth; sometimes nothing gets you off like choking yourself on a dildo on camera. You can smell his cock, heady and musky, and your mouth starts to water.

You try to lean forward to lick his cock, but his hands, firm in your hair and on your throat, stop you. You look up at your tormentor, confused.

"Do you want something?" he asks, clearly amused.

"Um," you say. If you don't say it, maybe he won't make you do it. You glance down at his thick, heavy cock, and swallow. The truth is, he doesn't have to *make* you do it. Right now you want nothing more than to gag on his cock.

You hear him chuckle, and realise you've been staring at his cock like a child in a candy store, eyes glazed and mouth watering. From his perspective, you must look like a total cock-whore, a cumslut craving her next mouthful. You feel like one, too.

"You clearly want something," he says. "Why don't you just tell me what it is?"

"I..." you hesitate, and then sigh. "I want to suck your dick."

He cocks an eyebrow, and a dam inside you breaks.

"Please," bursts out of you. "Please, can I suck your cock? I just - I need it in my mouth, I want your cum down my throat, please. Please let me choke on your dick, I need it. Please?"

Instead of answering, he reaches up and hooks his thumb in your mouth, forcing it wide. He pulls you close, inelegantly sliding his cock into your mouth. He thrusts carelessly, harshly, pushing his cock deeper and deeper as though you are some kind of dick-sucking toy that doesn't need to breathe.

You moan around his thick cock. His total lack of regard for your comfort while he plunders your mouth, fucks your throat for his own pleasure...you can feel your pussy dripping. He's just providing what you begged for like a wanton slut, and you can't get enough of it. He pulls out, and you gasp for breath, while disappointment twinges in your gut.

He lets go of your hair, keeping you close to his dick with the firm hand around your throat. He slaps your cheek hard with his free hand, making you yelp, and then with his cock, dripping your own saliva onto your face. You know you look like a wreck.

"You like this?" he asks breathlessly, cock drooling on your cheek.

Before you can answer, he slaps you again with the back of his hand, methodically, and you whine.

"You little whore," he says. "Of course you fucking do. You love this, don't you? Finally being treated like a piece of meat, the way you've always wanted. Isn't that right, *kitten*?"

You open your mouth to reply, and he slides his cock back in. You choke at the intrusion, gagging, but he just presses forward, smirking at the tears in your eyes.

He uses your mouth for - you have no idea how long. You lose time, dazed and breathless. When you manage to focus on the world again, you realise you've unbuttoned your jeans and tugged them down, one finger teasing your clit and another sliding deep inside. You're close already, have been since you first realised how serious this man was about wanting to ravish you, willing or not.

Moaning and drooling around his cock in your mouth, you ride yourself swiftly to one of the most satisfying orgasms of your life. It punches through you like lightning, aftershocks sparking through your clit, promising even better orgasms soon.

He pulls his cock out of your mouth again as soon as he realises what you've done.

"Naughty slut," he says. "Did you have my permission to do that?"

Your mouth has been so well-used that you can barely form words with it, but you husk out a no.

"I didn't think so," he says. He doesn't sound angry. His lip is curled in amusement, and your sex-fogged brain slowly realises that he's pleased that you were so turned on by him fucking your mouth. And then you wonder if he's also pleased that you've just handed him another reason to punish you.

You see the glint in his eye, and swallow unevenly.

Of course he is.