(This text is an excerpt, from a larger work of erotica)
I squirmed around on the bed. Feeling like I had to go, when I knew I couldn't possibly have to. Feeling vulnerable and helpless, even though I told myself I was in complete and total control. As long as it was on all my terms, and I was curt about it, it was surely all right. Yeah. Right. Sure. Okay. Uh huh. Whatever. Vaquera gets whatever she damn well feels like, and if she wants it in her ass? Vaquera gets it in her ass. With a hot wet tongue. With a hard wet cock. As deep and as fast and as hard as she wants it. Or? As slow and light and soft as her ass requires to make her happy. Anything Vaquera wants, Vaquera gets.
"Took you long enough. The fuck over here, now. And if sorry comes out of your mouth? I'll show you what sorry really means, little boy. Come…"
I hissed at him, in Vaquera's pissed off irritated voice. Somehow, that would make it all okay.
"Kneel… eyes down. You look up at me? I'll smack the taste right out of your dirty little slutty mouth."
"Now then. You tell your mistress, why you think I had you clean me out. And you better watch how it comes out of your mouth."
"Mistress Vaquera is… wants…"
I softened my voice, but only slightly. I laid back and all but dragged him up on top of me, and gathered him in my arms as I rolled on top of him. I started kissing him, then chewing on his neck and biting his shoulder. Gently, though.
"Shh. I think you know exactly what I want, little boy. But I'm telling you right now, you better listen to me, you get that straight. So, you shut up and listen carefully…"
I continued kissing him, biting his neck and his shoulder. The only difference was, I was now playing with his interest meter with my free hand. When I whispered in his ear now though, I switched to grabbing his testicles firmly.
"Oh yeah. That's right. When I do this? I have your full attention, don't I? Yeah, I think I do. Your Mistress knows how to get you to listen very carefully…"
"The first thing you're going to do, is dress me. Real slow, real careful. I want that slutty miniskirt and that slutty shirt back on. You can leave the panties off me…"
"Next? I want fucked, and I want fucked exactly how I say. You, are going to get to go into my ass, little boy. That's how I need it, and I better get whatever I want. Now listen up. You better go slow, and I mean so slow I can't tell you're moving, you understand me? You better. I mean so goddamn slow and sweet and gentle, that I swear you just have the tip touching, and next thing I know, you're all the way in. That goddamn slow. Are we on the same wavelength here? We better be. Because if I can even tell you're moving? Well… when I tell you I'll take you down to the basement and horsewhip the skin right off your ass, you know I can do it…"
I started mixing in the extra slutty kissing with the biting and heavy breathing. His built in sex barometer, reported that relative interest was at an all time high.
"Now… you get me dressed…"
I sat on the end of the bed, and got socks and boots put on, then I stood up and he got me in the miniskirt carefully, and last the cropped T shirt. I had fun playing naked fetch and gentle tug of war with the panties. I had him do tricks for me and everything. I laid my toy and something else tiny next to us on the bed, and I used the tall heels of my fancy cowgirl boots to spur his legs as I hissed instructions into his neck.
"You better go slow, little boy. I better not notice that cock I shaved clean, going in. You better pretend you're fucking broken glass…"
"Yeah, you just park the tip right there, and wait to get it all-l-l wet. Vaquera wants it all natural this time…"
"Yeah… that's not bad… now I swear to god, when you move? It better be no more than half a blonde pubic hair, you hear me? Or I will fuck you up…"
"Oh, how wet is my ass getting, huh? That's all you… you love being in my ass, don't you… you dirty, little, slut…"
I grabbed his hand, and put the little rubber ball ring on his finger for him, then guided it to my clit.
"Oh-h-h… yeah… ah!"
I lost the power of speech, and communicated by whimpering and squealing into his neck and shoulder. Biting and chewing, and scratching his skin gently.
"Ah… ah… ooh!… ah-h-h…"
"Tiny strokes… tiny… tiny tiny tiny… oh-h-h…"
"Mm-m-m-m…"
"Oh god, if you come, I will fuck your shit up, and I mean bad… you are not allowed to come… I need… you to get me soaking wet, before I put your… cock ring on you… don't you dare finish, slut, don't… you… dare… oh!"
"Oh, you just wait, little boy. You're mommy? Is gonna love your mistress taught you this… ah ah ah… ooh!"
I had my legs high over his hips, so he could feed in slow and easy. I shuddered and bit his shoulder, clutching around him for everything I had in me, not to scream. Trying to stop it, just made me whimper even worse into his neck. I reached out blind, ashamed to take my face out of his neck to have him hear me make more noise than I already was, or that he might see my face blushed such a hot scarlet red. Because when you can tell a girl with a dark tan is blushed? Its beyond bad, its just obscene. I grabbed blindly and found the toy, and slapped it into his free hand. I guided it slowly to my soaking wet twat, and using his wrist as a handle on a fuck toy, I got it in and out and soaked it with my au naturale lube. Oh god, it made wet squishing noises going in and out. I couldn't hide that. My hot wet slit can't tell a lie.
I squealed and whimpered something fierce into his neck, and put my heels to him hard enough that I was completely sure I was marking his legs up and I couldn't care less.
"Lis… listen clo, close… ooh!… I want you, t… to switch hole, holes… ah ah ah…"
He slowly switched soaked cock and soaked toy. I put his cock ring on him and adjusted it tight as hell, I wanted this to last forever. I was soaked now both ways, all the way, from me and him both contributing to the organic lubrication. He was now in my soaking wet twat and had the toy fed in and buried up my own rabbit hole, that he had slowly opened up and slicked up. The little rabbit had made friends and was invited into the bigger, badder bunny's own hole for a nice little visit… and they weren't having a tea party.
I was so ashamed of myself, that I quite simply couldn't stand myself. I had a farm slut's boots on, and I had an obscenely tiny miniskirt borrowed off of a young turbo-whore. And what's more was that it was riding up around my waist like a slut that couldn't even wait to get undressed before she took both cock and toy deep into all her holes. I finally with a monumental effort got my whimpering under control in between shudders and breathing hitches just long enough to push him up a little. Just enough to pull the slutty ripped up T shirt up and off me.
I finally got the nerve up to open my eyes and let him see me tearing up. I prayed he'd recognize his own surrender performance. Hear his own whimpering, see his own little cry. Now it was on me. He had mercy on me, and said nothing to give it away. I got the neck of the teeny shred of a shirt over my neck, and wound my wrists around, rubber banding it up until it held my wrists securely enough I could trust I wouldn't get free. I bit the center of it, and he got the idea as I spoke with my eyes and with soft little whimpers that begged him not to make me say it.
He grabbed that wound up T shirt, and grabbed near enough my caught and bound up wrists that I was trapped now, and put his weight on them. Pinning them on either side of my head firmly, and driving my head down with the wound up shred of slut shirt bit-ted across my whimpering and squealing mouth. He started stroking and I nodded my head, to go.
I had turned on the now legendary button number four and as he slowly increased his stroke's depth, speed and force rhythmically? The random, moving, ever shifting pattern of vibrations came and went and moved up and down like some insane fuck lottery.
There's a tiny slab of skin between a girl's ass and her twat. You can feel your fingers all but touch up inside if you're careful. He had his cock ring on tight as hell, so there was no way he could finish. My ass was already wet enough from him, and my own from the toy made it extra slick. With my toy crammed all the way up my ass, I knew it stretched into my twat. His cock lost space and it tightened my twat up to somewhere it hadn't been since before virginity. My ass hummed and vibrated and shook me from the inside out. I could feel it all through my twat. From his reactions, the temporarily grade school tight twat and the vibrating length of pussy drove him wild as well.
I had given myself completely over to him. He had my wrists tight, my mouth gagged with a slut's wound up shirt. I couldn't even turn my head to hide my shame and humiliation that I was enjoying it so much. I just nodded my head anytime he questioned me with a look. Verbal communication from me to him was limited to squeals and whimpering, though they were voluminous in both quantity and volume aplenty.
I nodded my head when he got the idea to bury his cock all the way into me and pin me to the bed like a bug on display, then tugged gently on the toy buried up my ass. Where number four was doing its usual stellar and randomized performance. My nod said it was permitted, and he slid it out. When he slid it back in, my tears and squeals were too much. I made the little piglet screeches. I couldn't hide my face to conceal my humiliation, so I just closed my eyes and streamed tears slowly down to wet the bedclothes. My tears were the least of any stains and wetness these poor sheets were enduring this night.
He took turns burying the toy and stroking my twat with his cock, in my tightened up twat that was soaking wet and greased up of my body's own accord. I couldn't control it if I wanted to. That I was dying from abject pleasure was too obvious to deny. Then burying his cock again and stroking the toy. Back and forth, he worked me into some whorish frenzy. I sobbed and cried but kept shaking my head yes yes yes, so he wouldn't dare quit.
I realized at some point, that I had not planned this thoroughly enough. There was no exit strategy. His cock ring was cranked so tight he'd not lose a drop, and couldn't go soft if he wanted to. He'd never finish, this would never end. It might kill me before morning came, but I'd die happier than hell. My head was pinned down and my mouth bit gagged with the wound up slut T shirt, his hands holding my mouth secure and my head along with my poor trapped hands. I couldn't beg for mercy, I couldn't signal for help. He couldn't finish. I was doomed to die from pleasure and would enjoy that, too.
I finally made strange gag talking noises, and talked with my eyes enough he lifted my wrists up, which freed my panting and drooling mouth temporarily enough I could pant, whimper and squeal out necessary and important information.
"You… can flip me over… and switch holes… and go back again… ah ah ah… don't ever… ah ah… stop… ooh!"
There, that was it. I doomed myself. He rolled me over, and held my wrists down just the same, my drooling, whimpering mouth still bit-ted. I still chewed on the T shirt for dear life. The only saving grace was that I was now mercifully facing the bedclothes. I could temporarily hide my shame, my complete embarrassment at enjoying my merciless plight. He took turns burying and moving cock, toy, cock, toy… before switching holes and resuming it again. I screamed pitiful little piglet screams into the bedclothes that obviously held no more mercy on me than he had for my holes. None.
When he flipped me back over I begged him with eyes half closed into slits of pure hedonistic pleasure, but I didn't even know what I was begging for. For him to quit, or for him to never stop. So I just sobbed and nodded my head yes yes yes, then closed my eyes and squealed more, my shame on display for him to enjoy. I spurred him with my heels and scraped them any way I could, marking his thighs and legs up something fierce, but it was all to no avail. I think when I had hurt him enough, that was when he chose to flip me over again. I could no longer hurt him with my fancy heeled boots, but the trade was fair, because my shame was hid once again. Until he rotisserie-d me again, and again, and again.
The bigger, badder bunny had its littler bunny friend over. The bigger, badder bunny lived in duplex holes. They had a little play date, and were playing hide and seek running and hiding in either hole for fun, all night. I had no way out, and could do nothing that would make anything happen except more of the same. I tried squeezing and clenching, but it just changed the sensations. There was no pain and no pleasure. Just some strange combination of both at once. There was no clenching with a crammed twat and a full ass. I experimented with doing it after a retraction but it just forced out louder and more pitiful piglet squeals. Relaxing was easier but more humiliating. I wanted to fight it but couldn't.
Over time, more and more little orgasms come, and you get surprised by the occasional big screaming one. I had nothing to bite but a soaked slut's shirt. And the slut was now me. I was now caught in the grip of what bar whores would kill to receive. I couldn't scratch or push or slap. I couldn't even hang on for dear life and cling and clutch. I could do nothing other than make ever more pitiful and embarrassing noises, drool, and put my heeled fancy boots to him, which if anything just seemed to encourage him to do it more yet.
Face up now, my shame on display yet again for him to enjoy. His new trick as he fiddled with this new system of pleasure came about. He would retract the toy, and bury his cock, then retract his cock while he buried the toy. After several double pistons, be would engage both and re-stretch my bigger, badder bunny holes and take more pleasure from me than I could stand to give up. My poor tummy had clenched and fluttered too many times and was cramping up a little. I had to try to relax that now as well as everything else. I had to completely give up and just relax everything, and try to keep taking it. Minute after minute, just giving up more until I was spent and played out. I could no longer struggle credibly. Even my flailing hands and fingers were weak.
The next orgasm might well kill me. I just sobbed and heaved and panted through it, grunting and moaning deep down my throat, up from inside. I finally lost the ability to spur and scrape my heels down his legs. I could now do nothing except lay there and take it. It suddenly grew weirder. I felt as if I was watching myself take it, and had the even stranger sensation I was inhabiting some other slut's body, like borrowing a car. I was watching out through some other over pleasured whore's half closed eyes. But that other complete slut, that other over pleasured whore? I knew that was surely me. I was looking out through my own eyes.
My head buzzed, and felt like tiny bees were buzzing in it. My eyes and ears tickled with it. I was amazed watching an ever so interesting collection of little white dots move around in random, non-programmed patterns. But they never once touched one another. They moved like little white tadpoles, but they didn't have wiggling tails, no, they trailed straight behind them. I was out of it enough I didn't even realize I had lost the battle to catch my next panted breath. My breathing slowed to some primal, slow, deep rhythm. But it was just when I needed to pant and whine faster for more air. It made the dazzling white tadpole show ever increasingly fascinating to observe. No. A dense cluster of shooting stars. No, white tadpoles. White shooting tadpole stars, then. Why I had to determine what to call them, I didn't know.
Why was this happening to me? Oh. It was the teeny little too tiny denim miniskirt's fault. It was a sexually charged magical item. I knew it was a slut's miniskirt, and from the moment I put it on and wiggled in it for his approving view? I wanted to to be a slut. It wasn't my fault, that damned three sizes too small miniskirt had done it to me. It had infected me with its satyric evil spell. Its power flashed and dazzled all over me and turned me magically and instantly, into a complete slut. It had made me prance and strut and bend over, for a roomful of strange men and boys and made me enjoy their hot stares. I begged the denim miniskirt to allow me to go back when I finally took it off. It was possessed, it now possessed me, and I needed its permission to turn me back. If I even lived through this.
I felt drool running out and down the corners of my mouth, and I made the embarrassing little sucking noises as I chewed on the wound up slut's shirt. I lost the ability to whimper, whine or squeal. The little love piglet was dying, and had screeched its last. I was vaguely aware of the bunnies playing hide and seek in the duplex hole system they played in. My face made some weird noise I barely recognized as bubbling drool in the back of my throat. My head lolled to the side as if my neck had become jelly. It had happened. Some climax had come along and claimed me. I was now dying from pleasure. I was far too naughty a girl now to ever get to heaven, I would simply wake up in hell and hope for the best. At least with the tiny miniskirt I was dressed for hot weather. How appropriate was that.
I would have to float up to St. Peter at the pearly gates, and just as I was now. He would take one look at me, and see the condition of me as I had died. Wrists all bound up in a turbo-whore's ripped up tiny T shirt, still chewing on it soaked through. Drool still running out of my mouth, thighs streaked with dripping twat grease. My ass on display because the evil denim miniskirt was still ridden up onto my waist. He would laugh and send me straight to hell where I knew I belonged. Because I had been taught to be a good girl, and I had willingly chose and then even worse enjoyed, being a bad girl. Not even a bad girl, but the very worst of the worst of them.
I heard some male voice asking softly if I was all right, and I felt my head scraping up and down slowly. It was like someone else was shaking my head yes yes yes for me. The buzzing filled my ears and my eyes and my head. I could feel my heartbeat inside my head, like a drum. My breathing had slowed down far too much for what air I required to stay alive. I could feel my poor little heart bumping away, fighting like hell to keep this poor defenseless body running in something loosely resembling stasis, then it too seemed to give up and relax. Slow, regular heartbeats came out of nowhere.
Weird calm. Hot and flushed, and ice cold at the same time. I could feel the warm little puddle of drool my face lay in, as my bubbling in my throat ceased. Some kind of light humming noise came out of my face from down inside somewhere, but I couldn't tell you where, how, or why. Hell, I wasn't even completely aware who I even was. I was myself, I was this other shameless whore, one of us was borrowing the other's body and looking out through the other's eyes, but… which was which? I neither knew nor cared.
I couldn't tell you how long I laid there under those circumstances. I couldn't tell you if I was spinning and the world was stationary, or if it was the other way around. Not spinning like when you're drunk and the bed is spinning, and you stick a foot out onto the floor to try to stop it. Spinning like a gyroscope; around, over, and other directions all at the same time. Not unpleasant though, it felt like free falling flight. Fun not scary. I was dying, I was sure of it. I had willingly set myself up to be fucked to death. Somehow, this other shameless whore still moved my head feebly up and down, yes yes yes. I heard the lightest laugh coo out of my bit-ted and gagged mouth.
My head was to the side, I just realized it. My mouth was free. I could scream, beg, or yell for help now. But… I didn't want anything to come out that would stop my death, it felt too good. Another giggle escaped me as I realized I was enjoying my death.
My head bobbed slightly, from motion coming from down… there. Machines with dual pistons, working my holes somehow, some way, making this happen. I smiled.
Then I was back. I snapped back suddenly, like a rubber band let go. The shameless whore, and me? Met in mid air on my bed and became one. I looked around, confused. I could struggle again, and did. It was feeble as hell, but it was there. I was gasping and heaving for air, and it came down my throat in great gusts. Drool bubbled in the back of my throat again, and I now voluntarily pushed it with my tongue around, and felt it run down my cheeks. I was no longer ashamed, no longer humiliated. I tried to laugh, biting down for dear life on the wound up T shirt, and all I heard was those cackles of weird, scary pleasure come up and out of me.
I could scream again, so I did. Just to hear it, I think. I made the little piglets screeches of pleasure. Something different. The buzzing was gone from my head, it had dissipated as I came back alive. I spurred his legs with everything I had in the way of renewed energy and sense of a shameless whore's purpose. I scraped his thighs with my heeled boots viciously. He tightened his grip on my new burst of struggling. I settled into little bursts of laughter amid intense struggling that got me nowhere except more of the same, interspersed among much longer periods of giving up and relaxing, during which somehow soft whimpering seemed best.
"Mm… mm… mm…"
I stared into his eyes, trying to focus but unable at this distance and in this condition, covered over in a thick sheen of pungent and aromatic sweat. My pores opened up and released that deep, musky odor of hormones and mother nature's terrible and wonderful endocrinology. My poor, sore tummy muscles could clench up again. I found myself squeezing and clenching my holes in vain, just enjoying the painful pleasure of being completely and shamelessly fucked into a totally hot, wet mess. My ass cheeks and the small of my back were soaked with what I at first thought was a weird place to collect sweat, before I realized that… had I pissed myself in pleasure? Oh god no, please… before I realized I must have squirted and it simply collected there under gravity.
As I struggled, my poor humiliated bottom squished around in my own wet sex filth. Then he flipped me over yet again, and my poor sore tummy got to enjoy sliding around as I struggled in vain, in my own body's unasked for compliance with what was being done to me that I was utterly powerless to put a stop to. Flipped face down yet again, the disgusting greasy sex puddle grew far worse. It wasn't peeing, I had been reduced to to the state of an abject and complete whore. That must be my turbo option kicking on.
I couldn't spur or kick flipped twat side down, ass side up. Kicking was useless, I settled for scraping my pointed toes of the farm slut's fancy pointed boot toes on the poor bedclothes. Every time I was flipped face down for more of this, he would haul back on my bound up wrists, tugging the T shirt tighter into my drooling mouth that spilled its contents out as I panted hot moist air into the abused bedclothes. I tried to shake my head to throw the sweat streaked hair our of my face, but I just managed to move it around some. My hair was picking up drool from the warm puddle my face slid around on as I struggled for nothing.
Shame and humiliation flooded back into me. What had I been reduced to, what had I done to myself. My ass cheeks and my tummy took turns sliding around in my own naughty filth, my face and my hair were laying and drug around in a growing pool of warm drool. My wrists were bound, and I had done that to myself too. Both of my poor holes were being worked to death, and I had been responsible for that as well. The tiny obscenely small denim miniskirt was bunched up around my waist and soaked in my warm wet filth like the rest of my midsection. I sobbed and cried and pitied myself. I tried to pant and get back to dying again, but couldn't manage that no matter how hard I tried. All I could manage was to make myself dizzy now, and it forced me to cease struggling to any remotely meaningful degree. I was now the slut.
Then, face down while my hair wicked up my slut's drool pool rolling out of my bit-ted mouth, came a hint of salvation from my humiliating plight. He was making noises. He sounded like he was in discomfort. I concentrated on those noises, I focused in on them. After a while, it sounded suspiciously like his discomfort had grown into some slight… was that pain? I felt sobbing on my sweaty shoulder, and what I had been taking for sweat dripping off his forehead, I suddenly realized were his tears falling onto my neck.
His grip on the wound up slut's T shirt slacked a little, and I heard him begging please in my ear. Over and over again. What the fuck. He was no longer hauling the tightly wound T shirt into my mouth, and I slowly realized all I had to do to be free was to simply quit biting it; I did and amazed myself I could talk again. I was still panting and heaving though.
"Do… not… stop…"
He begged and pleaded, to stop. I kept telling him no, and he kept pestering and wheedling and whining to me. It hurt, he had to stop. What the hell, rug burn? No way. As wet as my twat was, that was completely impossible. My twat was a fucking slip and slide for a well trained slut's cock right now. My ass and tummy slid around in a goddamned pool of my own wet greasy filth. If his cock had the slightest rug burn? Monkeys were about to fly out of my well fucked ass. I had shaved his cock myself, he couldn't have so much as a single hair rubbing him the wrong way.
He claimed it hurt. He was starting to be in increasing pain. He begged me now for my permission to quit. There it was. My salvation. My complete recovery from my abject and utterly complete shame and humiliation. He's not allowed to tell me no. He hasn't said the word no, but I've told him what I want and he keeps bugging me, like a little kid that keeps begging.
Mistress Vaquera's dangerously quiet voice came out of my mouth.
"Your ass will hurt more than whatever else hurts if you stop now. Just fuck me a little more…"
He kept it up. The relaxed grip on my wound up wrists, combined with the pool of warm wet filth under my ass allowed me to rotate around to face him. I dropped my wrists over his neck and drew his face into mine as I locked my legs around and over his hips and crossed my farm slut's fancy boots shut, trapping him to me.
"I said… fuck me."
It was unintelligible but he whined.
My hands were still wound up in the T shirt, but I could unwind them at any time now. I was back, and I was suddenly thrust right back on top of the fuck situation. I was in control again. I was dominant once more. I had recovered from my pitiful plight, and Mistress Vaquera was back on top again. Metaphorically, anyways. I tightened my grip on the T shirt I had behind his neck keeping his face in mine, and I spurred him harder than ever with my heeled boots.
"You will continue to fuck me, until I give you permission to quit, is that understood, slut? If you don't, you will be taken to the basement, and whipped. I can't be any clearer than that."
More whining. I hissed in his ear that I drew down to my warm and wet lips.
"Cry fucking me here? Or scream in the basement. Choose…"
He cried and resumed fucking me. He no longer had control over me anymore. I now had him back in my power. I tightened up on the T shirt around his neck. I was no longer bound, it was trapping him.
"Yeah… fuck me more. Don't you dare stop…"
"Uh huh… cry for your mistress little boy. That's what I'm here for you know. I'll fuck you harder and give you something to really cry for…"
"I said more!"
"Faster, slut!"
He begged that it hurt. I laughed and demanded it harder, faster, and deeper.
"Yeah, that's right. No more turning mistress over. Uh uh. You will stay right here, and fuck me until I say so. More!"
I began to realize, if only slowly. What might be going on. Never once had I put the cock ring on that tight before. There was no telling how long we had been going at this. It was a long time though. His cock couldn't get soft again. It was stuck on full engorgement with the tight ring. He could technically finish, but not a drop could come out. Without the explosion of hot wet come from his cock, I had no way to tell how many times he squirted off and it got trapped inside.
Where the fuck was it even being stored up at? I had no idea, not my goddamn field. Piss has a bladder that fills up, was there even some kind of come bladder, I had zero idea. Where exactly was the goo produced. In the balls, or in the prostate? Like I fucking know these things. I icily told him when to switch cock and toy holes, and when to switch back. But keep fucking me, or else.
I smiled and enjoyed having him crying and begging to quit, while I held on wrapped around him, spurring and heeling him rough, making him keep at it like a rough Mistress should. Then, I got Machiavellian on him. I teased him and begged him, that he could quit fucking me if he wanted to. When he went for it? I picked up my belt, and ordered him onto the fuck frame.
I first had tried simply putting him on his hands and knees, ass down face up. I wanted originally, to rub his face all around in my warm greasy pool of filth my twat had produced. While I fucked him and tugged on him. So I did that for a while. I ran his crying face around in the pool of warm filth.
"Yeah… that's right… you made that mess come out of me, slut. Yeah, that's right, you lick it up… now, that's a good little slut… yeah, cram it in your dirty little mouth… now suck on it… taste me… more…"
I quickly switched to the fuck frame to ensure his complete and total compliance and submission to my demands.
"Yeah… that's right, slut. You don't wanna fuck your Mistress like she wants? Then your Mistress will fuck you…"
He squealed as I fastened him in tight, face down, ass locked up in the air. I pulled my toy out of my thoroughly soaked twat, number four still kicking ass, and shoved it rather unceremoniously into his ass. I taunted and teased him and tugged his cock while hand-fucking him with the buzzing toy deep into his ass quite rough. Generous cracks across his ass with the leather cowgirl belt. It didn't take long for his crying to go from sobbing to screaming. I ball-gagged him and went back to it.
I had enough warm grease of my own to tug him soaking wet with a wave of my hand. I toy fucked his ass, and tugged his cock or cracked his ass with the belt, all with no pity or mercy whatsoever. When I got the piglet screeching I wanted? I told him to make more noise for me, that he was simply telling me how much he loved it. I definitely spent a lot of time at that. This reminded me of the first couple times I discovered that I had a super heroine hand after warming his ass up properly. Discovering that I could actually get squirming, tears, and even screams swatting his ass with just my bare hand when properly prepared? The feeling was indescribable, and it still is.
Making him beg so pitifully, run tears, sob, and scream just from touching his cock? Was somehow even better. More delicious to see and hear. Vaquera's extra stern voice, taunting and lecturing him. Followed by piglet screeching from simple lubricated tugs on his hard wet cock? I couldn't get enough of that. I knew right then and there, this had all not been a one time performance. I would get fucked like that again. Somehow it was okay, knowing that in the end he was going to go to pieces and beg. I had found my exit strategy, I had found my big finish. I guess I felt like a dancer that had an awesome dance routine, with no big finish but had just found it. Some music composer that had a great score, but lacked the ending and now had it.
My piece of performance art, had been perfected. Anytime I wanted it rough, and fucked senseless? I could get it. Knowing full well that even though I had squealed and cried and screamed and struggled for my life, twisting and pulling in puddles of drool and sweat and worse… that at the end, I would end up on top again. I calmed him down after a time, as best I could. I buckled him face up, all spread out flat in the fuck frame. I walked around and looked at him. Vaquera wore her smug smile.
When I touched him, and by touched I mean lightly dragging a fingertip over a thigh? He trembled, begged with his eyes, and put on such a show comprised of sudden piglet screeching and bucking and twisting that it was beyond delicious to know I got all of that? Just by a light graze from my mere fingertip. So yummy. I was like a little kid, left alone with my bowl of ice cream while the adult was out of the room. Suddenly allowed to squirt the chocolate syrup on the ice cream, again and again. I sat on the edge of the bed looking down at him.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk… just look at you now. Thought you really had me, didn't you. Didn't end like the little slut thought, did it? No, I don't think it did…"
I gave a little tug. He screamed. In between ball-gag dampened screams, I heard the little bell going off. I gave him Vaquera's bemused and distracted smile and nodded, before stopping.
"Now then. Let's go over a few things that need corrected, little boy. And right off the bat, at the very top of the list…"
I smiled and I licked my hand and tugged his cock for a while, to his explosion of performance art.
"That? Was for arguing with your mommy, when she told you what she wanted. You know not to do that, and you did it anyways. So, we have to go over that one again."
Longer.
"Now. We have plenty more to talk about, don't we? Yes. We certainly do. I think I have your attention now. So? Let's get right to it, shall we?"
Longer. Just when he thought this one was over? I exploded suddenly back into a faster series of harder tugs, laughing at his pitiful plight.
"That, was for disrespecting your Mistress. I told you, that you have to hold the same respect for your mommy, that you have for me. I was very hurt, being told you didn't respect me enough to follow my orders to the letter. That hurt me. I thought we had an understanding. So…"
Lots more.
"Now, that was extremely important? We'll go over that one again."
More, more, more.
"Which brings up me taking you out for dinner. It was very sweet, that you were afraid of offending me. But? There's no getting around the fact I had to tell you three times to explain what I wanted to hear. Don't ever do that again…"
I went for a good, long time.
"I speak once. I don't repeat myself."
Then quite naturally? I went for broke. After I was done, I waited for him to compose himself a little, before I went on.
"Now. You were told to keep fucking me, and you wanted to quit, did I hear that right…"
I ever so slowly got over him. Carefully, slowly. Teasing him until I ever so lightly and gingerly put my hot, soaking wet slit down onto his hard cock and got down on him and tucked myself all in for a ride. He twitched and squealed as I got into my sexually dominant mounted position on top of him.
He shook and whimpered just from me sitting there motionless after I got settled in and buried my face in his neck.
"I'm going to fuck respect right into you…"
I shushed him, and kissed and licked tears away. I used the softest sweet mommy voice I could conjure up. I went Stockholm Syndrome on him completely. I was so turned on, it wasn't even real. My soaking wet twat had the power to make him scream now.
I still could barely believe what I could now do. This rush that came over me, was the strongest and longest lasting one yet. My body was positively pickled in hormones and endorphins. I was drunk on it. I was completely out of my mind and beyond all control, and I loved it.