The Night Before

I thought I would be able to handle it, I really did. A night away from him, just one night. But oh god by the next day I was so desperate for him that I could hardly believe it, and rushed over to see him as soon as I possibly could.

I had barely walked through his door before he grabbed me and pushed me up against the wall.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” he asked, clearly knowing full well why I was there.

“Oh god sir—I need your cock in me right now—I haven't been able to stop thinking about it—please—”

“And what exactly makes you think you deserve to have my cock in you when you spent the night with someone else, bitch?” he asked as he pressed up against me. I could feel how hard he already was, which made me all the more desperate.

“I'm sorry—I'm sorry—I was thinking about you the whole time just like I always do, you know I was—please—”

“Tell me how much you want it,” he ordered, and then started rubbing up against me and oh god I wanted him even more, which I hadn't thought was possible. It felt so good but at the same time it was horrible because I already felt as if I were going to die if I didn't get him inside me right that second.

“Oh fuck sir I don't even know how to tell you—the whole time I wanted more than anything to run away to you but I couldn't. All I could think about was your big cock—please—I need it—please sir—”

“I would think you would know better than to try anything like that by now. You know you can never feel ok without me around.”

“I know—I know—I'm sorry, I'm so sorry—I'll remember from now on—just please—I need you in me so much right now—please sir, I'm begging you.”

“Why didn't you just fuck him if you needed it so bad?”

“Because I don't need anyone else—I need you, you fucking know that—please I'll do anything you want!”

“Maybe, maybe. I'm thinking about it... “

He was still rubbing against me and it had gotten to the point of being unbearable. “You're making it worse—stop if you're not going to fuck me, I can't handle it, I—”

He slapped me across the face, hard. “You think you get to tell me what to do now? You're my toy, or did you forget that last night?”

“Of course not—of course not I never forget—I'm sorry sir, I'm so sorry—I'm just so—”

“Maybe I won't fuck you at all. Maybe I'll just tie you up and make you watch me jerk off, how would you like that, bitch?” he taunted.

“No! Sir—please—need—” I said, so overwhelmed with desire that I had completely lost the ability to form coherent sentences.

“Stupid little whore,” he laughed. “I still turn you on out of your fucking mind, don't I? So much you can't even talk.”

“Yes—always—you—always—” I told him, not yet having regained the ability to be coherent.

“Well, let's just check on that,” he said, having no problem with sentence completion himself. And almost before I could even register what was happening, his hand was under my tiny black skirt, which I had of course worn just for him, and then inside my brand-new, silk, and also of course worn just for him, panties.

He let his hand just rest there for an agonizingly long moment before suddenly sliding one of his long fingers inside me.

“Oh fuck! Sir! Fuck!” I cried, thrashing against the wall. With how turned on I was it felt like an electric current surging through me to have him touch me at all. God, if he just leaves his finger there for a minute and lets me rub up against it, just another minute...

Probably because he knew this, he quickly withdrew his hand, leaving me achingly empty again, needing him in me now more than ever.

He laughed. “Just as I thought. You're soaking wet for me like the desperately horny little bitch you are. Well, you've got me nice and hot now too you slut, so I'll fuck you—on one condition.”

“Anything, I'll do anything, just give me your cock now, please sir!”

He was laughing at me again, knowing I was completely under his power just like always. “Ok, I'm going to let you have it you shameless whore. But listen to me. You can't cum until I give you permission, am I making myself clear?”

“I won't, I won't—just—please—”

“Mmm, I love it so much when you beg me,” he said. “I love how fucking easy it is to control you. I love knowing I can make you do anything I want, absolutely anything.”

And with that he quickly pulled off my skirt and panties and then spent what felt like forever but I knew was really only a few minutes removing his jeans and boxers. And oh god I felt about ready to cum then, just seeing his beautiful cock again at last, and god he was so hard.

He grabbed my shoulders and shoved me back fully against the wall and, at the exact same moment, plunged the full length of himself inside me at last, at last, at last. And then...just as he had with his hand, he waited for a moment that felt like forever (why did he have to have so much goddamn self-control, especially at the times when I had the least?).

If he was trying to get me to beg again (which he clearly was), it worked.

“Sir—please, FUCK ME—it's killing me just having you inside me like this, I need you to FUCK ME, I need it more than I've ever needed anything—you promised you would—you're killing me—” He still wasn't moving and hadn't said a word. For some reason, even though his finger had felt like enough before, having this much of him but still not having enough felt like torture. I felt at the brink of tears by this point. “You told me you wanted it too! Why are you doing this to me?”

“Just making sure my personal whore remembers her place,” he said. “You seem to be forgetting again who is in charge here. I'll fuck you when I'm good and ready to fuck you, whore.”

I meant to listen to him, I did. But god I needed him so much that, without even thinking about it, I started to grind up against him. It was only a split second later, when I felt the slap across my face so hard that the side of my head hit the wall, that I even realized I had done it. My body was so badly in need that it had become totally independent of my head, it seemed.

“What the fuck did I just fucking tell you? You ungrateful little cunt. Do you know how fucking lucky you are that I'm even giving a worthless piece of shit like you the honor of having my cock inside her at all? That I agreed to listen to your pathetic begging and take you? I really should just tie you up and make you watch me.” And he started to pull out of me, slowly...

And just like that I was a crying mess, begging him again. “I'm sorry sir! I am so sorry—please don't—need—god sir please—I—please—I won't—sorry sorry sorry just am so—please sir—” I was suddenly even less able to form basic sentences than I had been before. My brain had been left behind somewhere—all I was now was a cunt, a cunt that was completely overwhelmed with the all-consuming need for a good hard fucking from him.

He had told me multiple times before that making me cry, especially while he was using my body somehow, turned him on more than anything else in the world, which I'm sure was the only reason he didn't carry out his threat.

“One more chance,” he said sternly, “but you pull another stunt like that and I swear to god after I make you watch me I will beat the shit out of you. And you better not forget the one condition either, I am fucking warning you.”

“I know—I know—I promise—I promise—anything anything just FUCK ME!” I was still crying, terrified that he would suddenly change his mind.

The words had barely left my mouth before he was, for real this time. The combination of my crying and begging had evidently turned him on like hell because suddenly he seemed as desperate for it as I was. He was slamming into me so deep and so hard, exactly like I needed him to, and oh god I couldn't even remember the last time he had taken me like this, as if both our lives depended on it, which felt about right.

My ability to speak, already shaky, had now left me completely. I couldn't even say his name. All I could do was moan for him. He, on the other hand, as into it as he very clearly was, still managed somehow, his brain apparently still functioning. How did he always manage to have the upper hand even when I had him fucking me like a desperate teenager?

“Is this what you wanted, you dirty little slut? To be taken like you're nothing but a hole ready to be used, like you're not even a person anymore?” he said, his heavy breathing the only indication that he wasn't just having an everyday conversation (seriously, how did he do that?).

With considerable effort I remembered how to form words. “YES! Oh fuck, sir, fuck yes—that—that's it exactly, oh fuck sir—you always—you always know, you always know exactly what I need, oh god that feels so good, oh fuck.” And words were again unmanageable as I was completely overwhelmed again by the indescribable feeling of being pounded into (so fucking hard! jesus!) by an honest-to-goodness god.

I knew the time when I would have to ask—well, beg, actually—for him to let me cum could only be a few minutes off. But this thought had just occurred to me when he, whose hands had been flat against the wall, suddenly grabbed ahold of my shoulders and started pulling me forward and then slamming me back against the wall.

“Ok my stupid little fucktoy, you better fucking enjoy this,” he said, and for a beautiful moment I thought he meant I could cum when I was ready. But when his breathing suddenly quickened I realized what he had meant.

“But—no—you said—you said—no,” I cried, but of course there was nothing I could do as his cum filled me up.

He let go of my shoulders and pulled out of me, leaving me to crumple to the floor. I felt like I was going to cry again. “But I needed—you said—”

He cut me off. “I said you couldn't cum until I let you; I didn't say I was going to.” I didn't even have to look up at him to know he was smirking at me.

“But—but I needed—”

He cut me off again. “What did I just call you?”

“Your...your fucktoy...”

“And what does that mean?”

“It means I belong to you...it means you can do anything you want with me.”

“All right then.”

“But why would you—I told you how much I needed it, I begged you—”        

“Partially because you needed to be punished for last night, partially because you needed to be punished for what you tried to do earlier, and partially because I can and it amuses me,” he said, that smirk in his voice again. “Now get the fuck out.”

“But—you're not going to let me stay? I can't survive another night without you, please sir!”

“Too bad,” he said firmly. “Consider it the rest of your punishment. We'll see if you've learned your lesson by tomorrow.”

“Can I at least—”

In a tone that suggested if I'd been standing up he would have slapped me again, he said, “Of course you can't finger yourself, you stupid goddamn bitch. You should be fucking grateful that I let you have as much pleasure as I did.”

“Thank you sir, I know, I just...I want to cum so fucking much...“

“Of course you do. And that's exactly why it feels so good not to let you.” And he started to walk into the next room. “You better be gone by the time I come back in here, bitch,” he called back, and then he was gone.