Flush Pt. 01
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Your voice fills my head through the headphones. "Stay on your knees with your mouth open, until I tell you you can move, you filthy whore." I can feel the moistness between my bare thighs as I kneel on the cold tiles of the shower floor and you continue your pre-recorded dirty talk. I wait obediently, blindfolded, mouth open, hands clasped behind me, my nipples chilled and hardening in arousal, wondering whether I will be drinking your cum or your piss, excited by both prospects.
I like this game. I like not knowing what to expect, being utterly at your mercy. You often play with me like this, to keep me off balance. Once you left me kneeling here all night long, just to see if I'd do it, to test my commitment and obedience to you. And of course I did stay there, just as I was told, until you finally arrived for your morning piss and released me afterward. My knees were sore and my back and jaw ached from staying in place for so long, but I was proud of my accomplishment and you told me I had been a good girl. As a reward, you pulled me roughly to my feet by my pony tail and dragged me, stiff legged into the bedroom. You pressed my face into the mattress, ass up in the air, and fucked me good and hard, letting my hungry pussy drink every drop of your cum.
Whenever you snap your fingers, I drop to my knees to receive whatever you want to give me, cum or piss or both. In the bathroom, bedroom, living room, kitchen, whatever is most convenient for you. It's automatic for me now. Instantaneous. There were a few times, in the beginning, when I was too slow, and received a smack to the face that left me reeling and seeing stars. But I learned quickly. I miss those slaps, but sometimes you give me one anyway, just for fun. I am always grateful for that.
I am extra excited this evening. The headphones and blindfold are new, so I can only assume that you have something special planned. Woven in between the debasement and objectification penetrating my psyche, you have inter-spliced audio recordings of us during various sexual acts. I can hear your insults and commands and my moans. Flesh slapping against sweaty flesh and my surprised squeals in response to your hand's sharp connection with my ass or my face. I can hear my own voice begging for your cum, my mouth slurping and gagging on your cock as you fuck my face, and the sound of your spit flying at me. In my sensory deprived state, I can feel every thrust, from all the many angles, in my pussy, in my ass, in my mouth or my hand. I can hear each of us cum, separately or together. And each time, I can hear myself thanking you most sincerely afterward, as I've been taught to do.
My open mouth waters with wanting for you. My pussy juices drip in anticipation.
I feel the tiniest breeze against my damp skin as the bathroom door opens. I tilt my chin up, ready to receive you. I can sense the warmth of your body just in front of me and I try not to squirm with hunger. Normally I would beg you to let me drink your piss, but in my sensory deprived state, I don't want to close my mouth to form the words at the wrong moment and miss it. Instead, I arch my back, thrust out my breasts and whimper longingly through my gaping upturned lips, hoping that will be enough.
It is. You grasp my cheeks tightly in one hand and guide my head closer with the other, letting your hot stream flood down my helpless throat. I revel in your taste. The slight coffee-bitterness of it that I know so well. I swallow and swallow, not spilling a drop, until I'm dizzy from lack of air. As the last spurts trickle into me, you release me and spit sharply into my face, as is your custom. "Thank you, Sir! That was delicious. Thank you for letting me serve you." I whisper my gratitude this time because your voice in my head is so all consuming that I can barely form my own thoughts, let alone words. I open my mouth again, just in case it's needed, and wait.
Within moments, you grab my pigtails and press my face against your balls. I lick them hungrily, taking them one by one into my mouth, caressing each of them with my tongue and moaning with desire. My own saliva smears across my face as you guide me wherever you want. With your wet balls resting on my nose, I reach across your taint with my tongue, stretching toward your ass hole. With my tongue still out and my mouth still open and watering, you drag me back between your balls, up your elongating smooth shaft to the head and thrust deep inside of me. Your movements are fast and sure and hard, relentlessly pummeling my tight convulsing throat. I hold my prescribed position, moving nothing of my own volition except for my flicking, laving tongue. I am an object. My only purpose is to serve and to please you, to be possessed by you, mind, body, and soul. The comfortingly dominant recorded voice in my ears reminds me and reassures me of this.
Jerking my head sharply forward, you hold it there, your cock fully filling my throat and pulsating. My body is rigid and quaking with excitement and lack of oxygen, mouth wide and drooling as the muscles of my esophagus convulse around you, milking you, welcoming your seed into my depths. With the tiny remnant of free will and consciousness I have left, I lap my tongue against your balls until you're completely finished. As you pull out, I croak another "Thank you, Sir" through my stretched, gravelly throat and you respond with another splatter of cold saliva on my face. Breath heaving, I remain in position, awaiting the next opportunity to be of service.
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