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What am I doing here? Why, oh why did I volunteer to clean the
house today? Oh yeah, and to be a
complete whore to any of the housemates who wants me.
Jesus, forgive me. I could have been out
shopping, or relaxing, or going to Bible Study. But my Master has finally
started to figure it out – I’m a slave to slavery. If he wants it done, I want to do it. It’s mortifying.
So here I am, dressed like a toy, scrubbing
kitchen counters like a slave woman, and hoping that Chuck and Richard, or
Betty, for that matter, don’t happen to notice my short skirt, and my shaven
pussy practically peeking out beneath it.
What a worthless thing I am to be following
degrading orders like this. Oh yes, and
Betty has her Mennonite Bible Study meeting here today. I hope they stay in the living room. Last thing I need is a Mennonite
gang-bang. Well, maybe…. God I’m so
turned on.
I’m such a slut. Master asked me today if I was a shameless
slut, and I realized that now I really am.
I told him so, honestly, and he knew it.
And I’m horny again. Ok, the counters and sinks are clean, time to
mop the floor. I’ve already done my room, Chuck and Richard’s, and most of the
kitchen. More than halfway through. I wonder if it would be ok to use that
vibrator while I work. Of course it
would.
He left it in the play drawer in his room. Upstairs. Up to our playroom. Here, the “butterfly,” just what I need. Slip on, strap on, and turn to “hi”. Oh, God, that’s better.
Oh yes.
Yes. Yes. Yes.
Yes. –What? Damn, left the playroom door open. Stupid, stupid slut.
“No, Chuck, I’m – I’m –mm -- just fine.”
“No, I don’t –uhh-- know what that buzzing s-sound might be.” “No, Chuck, it’s n-n-not c-c-coming from
my…” “What colour? That’s none of – of – of your…”
Oh shit.
Chuck is asking about my panties.
There’s no way around it, the little geek knows what I’m doing, and
wants me. And it was all my own fault, too. My instructions are clear. God, I’m such a slut. I can’t back out of this, Master will know.
I walk over to the door, bring Chuck inside,
close the door. Still not too late to
back out! Yes it is. I have been told
what to do. I unzip the skirt and pull
it up over my head, taking the loose black top with it.
I stand before Chuck wearing only stay-ups and
my nice black shoes, with 3-inch heels.
Oh no! The butterfly is still
there strapped to me, buzzing and slimed.
What kind of a low, desperate, degraded slut would show this off?
What would my minister at home say to
this? Oooh, I shuddered with that one. Chuck is standing there grinning and enjoying
my embarrassment, a huge bulge in his pants, but that’s not enough. Master said to fuck him silly.
Master also said not to explain, so I unclip
his belt, unzip his fly. He gets the
idea and removes his pants and white briefs, and I’m blown away. Who would have thought such a little guy
would have such a big cock?
I’m close to coming already, but I’m fascinated
by his largeness. I kneel down before
him, see a small drop of pre-cum on the tip, and take the first few inches into
my mouth, giving him my best college-girl blowjob.
He enjoys it for a while, then grabs my hair in
both hands and forces himself into my throat, deeper than I’ve taken anything
before. I would be gagging now if not
for the practise I’ve been doing on my own this week with the Chloraseptic and
Master’s toys. As it is, my eyes widen
as he stretches my throat and cuts off my breath.
He pulls me into him by the hair even deeper,
then fucks my head like a sex toy, as if he’s forgotten I’m attached to
it. It hurts, my neck rattles, and I
protest I can hardly breathe, but my rhythmic moans are indistinguishable from
sex sounds, and after a while, I can’t tell the difference myself.
I force the vibrator hard against my pelvic
bone with my hand and wriggle a bit, as I feel myself ready to climax. He notices, holds me close, with my lower lip
on his ball sack, and reaches down with the other hand and takes away my
butterfly!
“You won’t come until I say you’re ready,” he
says softly, deliberately. He waits for
a reply, looking at my violated face. I
do my best to nod.
He smiles and continues pumping himself down my
throat, and even without my butterfly I’m close to climax, even though I can
hardly breathe. I will have a sore
throat this week. As he gets close, he
says, “You won’t come, even now. Just
swallow and wait.”
I moan—this is just unfair, and I’m ready, I
want to climax. He comes down my throat
– it feels like a lot, it tastes awful, and I just drink it all like I love it.
Maybe I do.
Finally he pulls out and I lick his large cock
clean, looking up at him, tasting my own arousal, fingering my own pussy, and
ask, “Now, please?”
“No,” he says, quietly, deliberately. “First beg me to fuck you.”
“Please,” I say, “fuck me.”
He says “You can do better than that. Stand up.
Spread your legs for me. Put two fingers into yourself and get yourself
warmed up first, and we’ll see if your tone of voice improves.”
He knows me pretty well, I guess. I wonder what Master’s told him. I do as he says, putting on a camgirl-style
show for him as I masturbate roughly, just on the edge, getting hotter and
hotter, and I can hear someone moaning “Yes, yes, yes,” and it’s me.
Oh, God, please now. “Now beg me again,
shameless slut,” he commands softly.
“Yes!” rips from me. “I need your big cock
inside me! I’m a shameless slut. Now,
please, Chuck!”
This brings him erect again and he turns me
away from him, pulls me by the hips down onto him, and he slides right in and
bangs directly into my womb, with all the force of my own weight. The pain seems to go all through me, but the
pleasure does too, and I come instantly.
“You were not permitted to come yet. You’ll need a punishment after this,” he
almost whispers, then sits on the edge of the bed, takes my hair in one hand,
reaches round and grabs my tit with the other, and pulls me down onto his
length, over and over, banging my poor cervix each time, pushing up behind it
and stretching whatever’s there, and I am unsure if I am hating this or loving
it, but the warmth inside is growing again.
It continues to grow as he takes his time,
fucking me hard and abusing my head and breasts as he does, and eventually he
comes inside me. I can feel the hot
spurt directly behind my womb, and I climax again too.
He pulls me off him and stands up. “What should we do with you, naughty
slut? You have disobeyed orders twice,
now.” I shiver, wondering what he will
do.
“Ah,” he says, “I think you have an idea
what I should do to you. Why don’t you
just bind yourself in the best possible position for it, and we’ll go from
there.”
I don’t mind; I know what I deserve. I go into
Master’s drawer and take out some police-style cuffs.
I carefully clear off the desk, and pull it
away from the wall so I can stand at one end, leaving the other end free as
well. Then I cuff one of my ankles to a
desk leg. Cuff the other to the leg at
the same end, and stretch myself across the desk.
I grab the far corners of the desktop. It’s uncomfortable, but I can handle it. I spread my legs, exposing my ass and
dripping pussy for Chuck, and await his punishment. I wonder idly if Chuck will be a little
harsher than Simon.
Chuck comes over and examines my behind, spanks
me lightly, and asks, “Now I guess you can answer some questions, desperate
little slut?
“Yes, but some I’m not allowed to,” I
warn.
He spanks me harder, a few times, warming up I
guess. Then hard enough to hurt.
After a while, when my butt is really starting
to sting, he stops, sticks a couple fingers gently into me, and probably
notices that I’m getting a little excited again.
“Robo-Lynn, did your Master tell you to fuck
me?” he begins.
“No, Robo-Chuck,” I retort, drawing it out
snidely. Master didn’t tell me to take
any crap from him either.
“Call me ‘sir’. Why did you do it?,” Chuck
asks.
Calling him ‘sir’ is very irritating, but he’s
right – we’re not equals; I’m a shameless slut, attached to a desk and being
punished. I realize that I don’t need to
take orders from Chuck, but he’s caught me out, and it’s too late to refuse
now.
“I’m not allowed to explain, sir, but it was
part of my orders for today.”
He thinks about it. “So it wasn’t me,
specifically?”
“No, sir.”
“Just anyone would do?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Interesting. What a worthless whore you must
be. Are those orders still in effect?” he continued.
I’m humiliated by his accurate assessment, and
realize that things may be about to get much worse. I have no choice but to
answer truthfully. “Yes, sir.”
“How much are you charging for each fuck?” he
continues, mercilessly.
“Chuck!”
I’m outraged. The more degraded I
get, the deeper his fingers penetrate me as I realize I’m still getting
wetter.
“No charge, then,” he concludes. “Here’s your
punishment, then. For today, you are not a worthless whore. You are a cheap one. You will charge $25 for
each person who comes inside you, each time they do. Except for me, of
course. Each time you receive this
money, you will give me 20, and keep five for yourself. Agreed?”
This is intolerable! I might be a slut, but I am not a cheap,
underpaid whore. And I don’t plan to
fuck anyone besides Chuck.
I stand up, pull his fingers out of me, and
say, “That’s enough, Chuck. Game’s
over. I’m not playing any more. Open the cuffs.”
He looks at me mildly and says, “That’s up to
you. They’re your cuffs. I don’t have the key.”
With a sinking feeling I realize that I don’t
either. Master keeps one on his
bracelet.
“Check the drawer for extra keys!” I
practically shout at him.
He looks around through the drawer,
shrugs.
“Try the other drawers, Chuck! I can’t stay here all day; I have to finish
the cleaning!”
Chuck looks through other drawers, finds a
stack of photos, and as his eyes widen and he flips through them, I try to grab
them but can’t reach.
I realize they’re the ones from my first day
with Master. I recall the
strip-and-finger-bang session, with good lighting, and me genuinely humiliated.
Nobody should ever see these photos!
I wilt with embarrassment; my voice shrinks. “Help me, Chuck, please. Find a key.”
“I’ll ask around, but you’ll need to do
something nice for me first,” he says, his voice growing coy. He weighs my left
breast in one hand.
“Fuck you,” I start to say, but I can’t. I really don’t have a lot of power here. So I
change it to “Fuck -- me again, sir, and then go find a key, please?”
I bend over the desk for him. He smiles, grabs
the Vaseline from the drawer, and without asking, lubes up my ass. I am genuinely afraid; I can’t imagine what
an organ of his size will do to my tender behind. And I don’t want to scream
and bring the whole house in.
“Please, sir, give me something to bite
on.” Chuck finds my pink skirt on the
floor, shoves a corner of it into my mouth.
I find out what it feels like. It’s terribly painful, and the pressure’s
unbearable. I bite down on the skirt and yell, and feel him slide in even
further. I imagine his cock rearranging
my insides and tickling my throat from the inside. I imagine I’m being split in two. I imagine I’m riding a pole. And then, I don’t believe it but I’m close
to coming again. I start to frig my clit
furiously.
I feel him fill my ass with hot jism and I
grunt with pleasure, and though I’m pleased, I want him out of there. The pain hasn’t stopped, and yet, as I bring
myself to another white-hot orgasm, I think I want him to do it again.
Still inside me, still stretching me, he
continues, “You want me to try to help you?
If so, your punishment will stand.
25 dollars per cum. 5 for you, 20
for me. Deal, or not?”
I have no choice. It’s my own fault I’m stuck here. I nod. I agree. I’m a whore. I’m going to be sick.
“Cheap whore,” he tells me. “And I mean that literally.” Chuck pulls out,
goes away for a while, and I can’t believe how low I’m sinking. And for Chuck, of all people. Yech.
I stand up. I lie down against
the desk. I look naked, cheap and
sluttish either way.
Author's Note: This story has been completed (21
chapters) and published as "From Zealot to Harlot", available at the
bdsmbooks website.
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