Movie Night

Music was playing softly as the movie ended. The television rambled on, words scrolling across the screen, thanking people I'd never met for their work on the product I'd just seen.

My attention wasn't on that. It was, at that time, focused on the soft, heavy weight of a breast in my hand.

My sub was kneeling beside my chair, her hands cuffed tightly behind her. Her ankles were pressed together, the short chain of her hobble lying on the ground. Her knees were spread and the slight dew of arousal could be seen on her clean-shaven cunt. A large green ball gag filled her mouth, her gaze set determinedly forward as I squeezed and gently kneaded her soft flesh.

"This is our third movie night," I said softly, as my thumb brushed over a hard, bullet-like nipple.

"You know what that means?"

She grunted. Not a hard, animalistic grunt, more of a groan that was cut off by the large gag.

I held my hand out, in front of her large breast and she enthusiastically pushed forward, nipple almost drilling into my palm as she crushed the soft flesh into my hand.

"Good slut." I praised her as I squeezed down on the soft flesh. She moaned, a long, deep, aching moan. She pressed forward harder.

I wasn't surprised. Three weeks of no orgasms, no masturbation, almost no touch and anyone would be touch-starved. For a woman who was used to pleasuring herself almost daily... well, it must have been hard.

The smile that curved over my lips could only be called sadistic.

"Needy little slut, aren't you?

I mocked her gently, to the accompaniment of a louder moan and a harder push against my hand. Her hips moved, just a little... like she'd attempted to hump the air but stopped herself.

I stood, hand grasping the dark hair pulled back into a thick plait. A natural leash.

"Let's discuss this further in the bedroom."

The click of the handcuffs was loud, the metallic clink of them falling down to the floor behind her as I released her wrists.

The slap of her palms hitting the floor as she transitioned from kneeling to all fours was accompanied by an affirmative-sounding grunt.

Though she quailed a little when I fixed her with a stern stare, communicating wordlessly that she had been a little too close to speaking, even with the gag. Dark eyes turned liquid, arousal melting away into apology as she tried to use her eyes to communicate.

Because I had taken her words away.

After a moment, my face softens and I nod. She's paid for her almost mistake. I tug gently on her braid-leash, encouraging her to crawl after me, palms slapping loudly on the wooden floorboards as I lead her down the hall.

Into the playroom. She's not allowed into my bedroom. That's my space. When she's in my home, she's allowed into the playroom, if I choose to use her.

It's a bedroom, no built-ins, just bare walls. Well, they were bare. Now, there are toys hanging from one wall; another has a standing mirror in front of it. One corner is left deliberately bare, small smudges showing where she's put her nose as she's been kneeling in 'corner time'.

The last wall is my masterpiece. It's covered in pictures of her, her degradation, her punishments, her red ass, welted tits, needy cunt. Her gagged mouth, blindfolded eyes. Her in a pig butt plug, or puppy tail.

And it sits directly behind the small, single bed that has only a single sheet and four leather cuffs chained to it. When she's chained to the bed, she can't help but see the pictures of her use. Her slavery.

I lead her in and drop her braid.

"Mouth!" I snap the order and she transitions smoothly from the all-fours stance into her knees, head bowed so that the buckle of her gag is easily accessible.

My fingers nimbly release the strap.

"Head up!" I snap again and her eyes come up, the green ball still clenched in her teeth.

"Head back!" I order, and she tilts her head back. The gag slides out with a slight sucking sound, her neck angle preventing the flood of spit that often dribbles down.

The gag thuds as I drop it to the wooden floor.

"Suck me," I order and her head moves forward, lips and tongue seeking the zip of my fly. Her head moves quickly, almost feverishly, as she teases out the small metal tab and pulls it down slowly with her teeth. Then her head dips back again, tongue searching for the band of my briefs. She's practiced at this, and soon has my semi-hard cock poking from my pants.

"May she?" She asks, almost panting, staring at my cock.

"She may." I nod, though she can't see it, gaze fixated on my crotch. Her head dives forward and engulfs me with one stroke, her warm, wet mouth surrounding me, tongue stroking down the underside of my cock.

I let her work for a few minutes, the only sounds in the room the soft slurp and squelch of her moving up and down my shaft, her harsh, hurried breathing before she plunges down again.

The little coughing chokes as my cock hardens in her mouth.

"Enough!" I look down at her as she pulls off my cock. Reluctantly, she pulls her gaze away from it, down to the floor.

"Thank you, Sir." She says, breathlessly, still panting a little.

"This whore is grateful to be allowed to touch your cock."

"I know," I smirk, the words condescending. She gives a soft sigh, a little shudder.

"It's been three weeks," I say, stretching out her humiliation.

"Is the little whore needy?"

"Yes, Sir!" She says, quickly, almost desperately.

"The little whore is desperate and needy. Her cunt aches and drools, Sir. She wants use, Sir. Please use the little whore, Sir. Use her hard and rough. Please Sir. Please let her serve your Cock."

I smirked again. The capitalization in cock was clear, another trained response. Another small humiliation.

Silence built as I didn't speak, looking down at her, breasts heaving, her hands locked behind her back, by nothing more than her own muscles and my unspoken order.

"If I honor the slut with my use, will it be worth my time? Or will it be focused on her own selfish orgasm?"

She gasps, not in pleasure, but in memory. Of the time she came without permission. Of the consequences of that.

"No, Sir. The whore won't focus on itself Sir. It will focus on your pleasure. Please use it, Sir. It will work hard to make it pleasurable for you, Sir. Please, Sir!"

Silence again; her muscles twitch as she waits in the aftermath of her begging, her need. I can see her hips flex as she represses that buck, that hump, again. I hide my smirk as she drops into the dehumanizing 'it'. I let the silence stretch, let that sink in, let her sit in the puddle of her own humiliation and degradation.

Finally, mercy.

"To the bed," I order her.

"Slave fuck position."

"Yes, sir!" She chirps and pivots on her knees. It's maybe two steps to the bed, three if you have small feet. She drops her shoulders, on all fours, till her nipples touch the floor. Then she slowly crawls forward, dragging those hard nubs over the varnished wood till she reaches the side of the bed.

She pulls herself into the mattress, kneeling with a creak of springs and pulls her shoulders down, tits pushed into the sheet, ass and cunt on full display.

It doesn't take long to secure her, leather cuffs wrapped around ankles and pulled tight, wrists bound and stretched out past her head, leather dog collar locked around her neck, its own chain similarly pulled tight, holding her down.

Then I mount the bed behind her.

"Is it ready?"

"Please, Sir." She moans. "Please."

My belt unbuckles with a soft metallic clink, a whisper of cloth as I shed clothing. Plastic crinkles as I sheath myself in a condom.

Then, with one hard, smooth thrust, I fill her ass.

It's lubed, of course. She's required to lube herself anytime she's in my presence. I hear a gasp, a grunt as she adjusts. I push deeper, feeling her grip me as I fill her to the hilt.

My hands grip her hips.

And I start to thrust.

It's not kind, or gentle. I'm not 'sharing pleasure' or even really treating her like a partner. She's a thing, a convenience, something I use to get off. A fleshlight that I don't need to clean afterwards.

My cock pistons into her, rough and hard and I can hear soft, muttered words from her, muffled by the mattress.

She's repeating "thank you, Sir," on a loop, so lost to the degradation and submission that she can't form thoughts anymore, just mindless gratitude as I use her.

Her skin is silk under my hands, as I hold her hips, her soft cheeks pressing into my own hips as I pound into her ass. Her body twitches under me, close to orgasm and her cunt is a furnace, the smell of female arousal strong, even with the general scents of sex in the room.

I can feel my ball tightening, my body tensing and I'm close. My cock slides easily in and out of her trained ass and one final, involuntary squeeze from her pushes me over the edge.

I cum, hard, buried deep in her, my cock throbbing as it delivers load after load.

My body trembles, my release total.

Finally, I slump, muscles loose and relaxed. I slowly pull out of her, with a soft slurp, the condom hanging heavy and full.

I lean forward and open her wrist cuffs, then unhook her collar from the chain. Finally, I release her ankles.

Then I shove her from the bed.

"Clean up, cunt." I order her, even before the thud of her landing has faded.

"Yes, sir!" She bobs up like one of the toys you can't knock over. Her fingers slowly peel the condom from me, careful not to let my seed fall onto the sheet.

Once she has it, I flop onto the bed, laying on my back, feeling the sheen of sweat slowly dry on my skin.

A warm mouth engulfs my cock again, tongue licking more than stroking this time. She pulls off far more quickly, her soft tongue lapping at the head, the shaft and a few patches on my thighs as she cleans off the cum.

"Sir?" She asks softly.

"Yes?" I reply, the usual post orgasm glow making me sleepy.

"May she... may she have your seed? Please?"

I scoff. It's a snort of derision and she responds with a short little huff. You could almost think she'd been hit... if you didn't know that it was just her stomach clenching in arousal.

"She may." I wave a hand lazily, not even watching as she eagerly brings the condom to her mouth and pours the contents into her mouth.

"Thank you, Sir. This whore is grateful for her use."