The Numbers Game

Mf, submission, dominance, light degradation, masturbation, display, pose, collar and leash

She leaned against my dinnerette counter, half-sitting on the barstool. “I didn’t quite get my fill at the club. How about a couple more shots?”
“I think you've had enough... I didn't invite you to my place to watch you pass out... I want more than that."
“Oh, is that so?” She bit her lower lip playfully. Her gaze drifted to the bedroom, a flush of heat spreading across her face. “What exactly did you have in mind?”
"What did I have in mind?... That you kneel down on the floor like a good little girl, spread your legs open, with your hands behind your neck... The position a slave girl should assume whenever she wants to please her master."
It’s a risk being so forward. If she angers, flees, I’ve lost nothing but a little time and effort. There are more like her at every club.
“A slave girl?” She laughed nervously, not sure if I was joking or serious. Her head tilted as if trying to read my expression, “You're pulling my leg, right?”
I give her a dark look, "Am I laughing? Get down, now."
“Did I read this all wrong?” She hesitated, her hands subtly moving to her thighs, uncertainty on her face. Her voice was a mix of excitement and trepidation. “Look. I... I'm not sure about this.
She hadn’t stood, hadn’t run off. It’s all a numbers game. Show interest in girls half my age at the club, and eventually, one comes back home with me. Bark orders at them, and eventually one complies. And when they do… no more clubs for a good long while.
I stepped up to her and took her neck in one hand. "A good girl does as she is told... A bad girl gets spanked until she cries... Which one are you?"
A shiver ran down her spine. I could feel it in the palm wrapped around her neck. She swallowed hard, her eyes locked on mine. “I... I want to be good for you.”
She pushed against me, then slowly lowered herself to the floor. Her legs parted as she assumed the position I’d demanded.
"Look up at me, I want to see your face, those pretty eyes." I inspected her like meat, judging every curve of her body.
Her eyes met mine, glossy, wet, a flicker of desire ignited within them. She arched her back slightly, accentuating her chest as she breathed deeply, her body now an offering to my desires, and hers.
"Good girl," I whispered, then slowly walked around her, continuing to inspect her. "Thrust those tits out more… Part your lips. An open mouth is an invitation, and you should always be inviting.”
I was deciding then if I should use her... And how I would go about it, which hole I wanted to use. It’s all a numbers game.
Her breath hitched as she pushed her chest out further, her lips parting in a silent plea. She watched me intently, her body language an open invitation.
I stepped back in front of her, "Get your top off. I want to see those tits."
Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached down to the hem of her crop top, pulling it up and over her head to expose her breasts, her eyes never leaving mine.
“Better?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Good girl, now take off those shorts. I want to see all of you.” I reached out to caress her cheek, my touch gentle yet commanding. Looks like we’ve gotten over the bell curve.
She stood up, her fingers deftly undoing the buttons of her shorts before shimmying them down her hips, stepping out of them with a sultry look in her eyes. The panties remained, but even the best slaves make mistakes once in a while.
“There, now you can see all of me.” She posed for a moment, letting me take in the sight of her nearly naked body. When I invited her back to my place, she knew what I wanted. Maybe not all of what I wanted, but sex was always on the table.
Stepping up to her, she shies back, nudging the bar stool. I reach out, fingertips gently stroking her inner thigh. I can feel little tremors ripple through her body at the contact. I know now, I’ve beaten the house, this one’s a keeper.
“Now, show me how you pleasure yourself.” I lean in, whispering to her.
Her eyes widen. I doubt she’s ever been asked this before. She took a deep breath, and her hand slowly trailed down her stomach to slip beneath the waistband of her lace panties.
“Like this?” She closed her eyes, leaning back against the barstool, and her fingers began to move in slow, deliberate circles.
“Good girl,” I watch her intently, “Get those panties off and kneel.”
She hooked her fingers into the sides of her panties, sliding them down her legs and stepping out of them, her eyes locked onto mine. Kneeling back down, she resumed the position, blinking repeatedly as my gaze bore into hers. I could tell she wanted to look away, but some false sense of pride forced her to look at me, the rapid-fire blinks giving her away.
“Continue stroking yourself and tell me how it feels.”
Her hand returned to the slick heat between her thighs. Her voice was breathy, her eyelids fluttering as she touched herself for my pleasure. “It feels... amazing.”
“You enjoy performing like this in front of a man? How does it make you feel being displayed so intimately?”
“It's... It's thrilling.” She bit her lip, her eyes dark with arousal. “Being exposed like this, for you... It's making me so wet.”
Her fingers worked with more urgency, her breaths becoming shallow and quick. The slick noises confirmed just how wet she was.
“Don't you dare cum yet. A good girl asks permission.”
The pained look in her eyes was simply delicious. She’d only been with boys her age, who probably only cared about getting themselves off. Being told to delay her pleasure for another is something altogether new.
I step away from her, not even bothering to look at her. In a drawer, I find a collar and leash. Turning back to her, I see she’s been watching me closely. When she sees the collar, her hand slows, her wide eyes looking up at me.
“May I... may I please cum for you, sir?” She asked, her voice a mix of desperation and excitement.
“You are a firecracker, aren't you? Do you have a boyfriend? Do you work yourself to climax this fast for him? Don't stop touching yourself, I want to see those fingers working that sweet little pussy. Don't cum until I tell you to.”
“No boyfriend... just me.” She resumed her rhythm, her fingers glistening with her arousal, her gaze fixed on me, waiting desperately for my command to release.
“Why not? You're beautiful. Horny. Needy. A little slut just aching for release, aren't you?”
“I guess I haven't found the right person... someone who knows how to handle me.” She circled her clit with increased urgency, her breath hitching as she fought the urge to climax.
“You didn't answer my question... you're a needy little slut, aren't you? So hot to get naked, kneel, and stroke yourself in front of a stranger... what kind of slut does that?  
“Yes, sir... I am.” She moaned softly, her fingers dancing over her slick folds, her body trembling with need. She could barely focus on my words and only answered part of my questions.
“And what kind of slut does that?”
“The kind that craves the thrill...” Her voice was a whisper, her body arching as she pleasured herself, her eyes slitted and locked onto mine. I could only imagine she was desperate for approval.
“Keep stroking that firepot.”
I lean in and wrap the collar around her neck. Then I give it a little tug with the leash. “When was the last time you climaxed while fucking?”
Her eyes flutter shut momentarily as the collar tightened around her neck, a soft gasp escaping her lips. “It's been... too long since I've felt this good.”
She continued to stroke herself, her movements growing more frantic, her body aching for release. 
“You want to cum, don’t you? But I'm not getting anything in return... How do we rectify that?”
“Please, sir... I need to cum.” She looked up at me, her eyes glazed with desire, her hand working feverishly between her legs.
“I asked how you are going to rectify taking care of yourself when I'm standing here without any attention given to my needs.” My voice was cold, distant, on purpose.
Her movements slowed, and her eyes widened with realization.
“I... I want to please you, too, sir.”
She licked her lips, her gaze drifting downward, suggesting a willingness to reciprocate.
“Pull my cock out. Look at it. Study it. You will become very good friends with it. Learn every curve of it. And beg for release.” I said softly to her.
Her hand reached out, fingers trembling slightly as they worked to unbutton my pants while her other continued stroking herself. Her eyes locked onto mine with a mix of anticipation and need.
“Good girl, take it out... and keep playing with yourself.”
Her hand delicately reached into my pants, pulling out my cock with a reverent touch, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of it.
“Stroke it while you touch yourself, but don't you dare cum.”
Her fingers wrapped around my length, stroking me with the same rhythm she used on herself, her breath hitching as she fought the urge to climax.
“Beg for me.”
“Please, sir... I need to feel you inside me.”
She continued to stroke my cock, her other hand still working between her legs, her body trembling on the edge of release.
“Beg. Like you mean it.”
“Please, sir... let me cum.” Her voice was a desperate whimper, her hand slowing on my cock as her own climax threatened to overwhelm her.
I realize it’s the best she can do right now, overwhelmed with new sensations. In time, she could be taught to beg like the dirty-mouthed whore I know she would become.
“Kiss the tip of my prick, you filthy little whore.”
Her lips parted, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to the tip of my cock, her gaze never leaving mine. Watering blue eyes looked desperately up at me.
With her fingers wrapped around me, and lips touching my tip, I whispered, “Cum for me... I want to hear you screaming out in ecstasy.”
Her eyes fluttered shut, her body shuddering as she allowed herself to tip over the edge, her lips parted in a single sigh of pleasure.
“Oh, fuck!”
Her hand quickened its pace on my cock, her orgasm crashing over her in waves. Lost in her universe, she leaned forward pressing my cock to her face, the rhythm of her hand on me disjointed and irregular. She instead gripped me tight as her climax ripped through her body.
I knew that I’d beaten the numbers game. Knew that telling her how to fuck me, how to serve me, how to cook and clean for me would be an entire series of fun and games in themselves.
She didn’t get me off, but honestly, this was far better, knowing she’d be mine, my slave.