Holster pt 2

Mf, non-con, bondage, oral, misogyny

She stared at the cock just inches from her face. It had fucked her more times than she could count.
The first time she’d been tied up, like she was now, but on a bench against her will. She’d come to him for a safe experience, to try BDSM in a known dungeon, with a contract stipulating no sex. She should have told someone, when he realized she was there and that nobody knew, he turned the whole thing around, taking her violently, while she was tied up and at his mercy. And it had been the best orgasm of her life.
The pictures, the recording, even the contract she’d signed, they’d all been twisted against her as blackmail, the risk of her family, her work, finding out was too great. She’d be ruined. Her family devastated. And the orgasms would end. She hated herself for that part, the way being used made her feel fulfilled, desired, filthy. And so she told herself she had no choice.
No choice but to return once a week. No choice but to let him tie her up. No choice but to let him fuck her however he chose. For as long as he chose. And as hard as he chose. It made her feel filthy. And that filthiness made something tickle inside her, a yearning she couldn’t name. One that only her rapist seemed able to sate.
After each session, with cum leaking out of her, the tears would come. Slowly trickling down a cheek. There was a wholeness in being used. In being fucked senseless. But it wasn’t her choice. She was made to do it. She was just a thing, flesh for him to use. And he made her cum every single time. He said it wasn’t her fault, she was just a slut, a hole to be filled, and she almost believed him. Still, she was forced into it.
Today was no different. She’d arrived at his home, entered, stripped naked, terribly aware of the extra twenty pounds she wished she could lose. Terribly aware that she was in her forties and not as firm and perky as she’d once been. Terribly aware of the wedding ring on her finger. Kneeling, with legs spread wide so he could see her bare cunt she would blush crimson in shame as he paced around her, inspecting every flaw.
When he pulled her up and rushed his lips to hers, she would return the kiss mechanically. She loved her husband even though he’d lost interest years ago. In a way, this was all his fault… If he’d shown any desires, she would have never gone to see what being tied up felt like.
When he grabbed her pussy, though, her moans were real. He was an animal, grabbing it roughly, shoving fingers inside her whether she was ready or not. And she found that when he forced them in, she got wetter than she’d ever done in gentle lovemaking with her husband. Another thing to shame her, she gushed on her blackmailer’s hand, around her rapist’s cock.
It never took long before he was pointing exactly that out, “Fuck you’re wet. You’re just a whore for being a piece of meat, aren’t you? Slut.”
She knew now, after the paddlings, after the croppings, after the beltings, that the proper response was, “Yes, sir. I’m your horny little slut.”
He grabbed a fistful of her thick dark hair, wrapping the curled coils of it around his hand and dragged her to his office. There he tied her quickly in a cocoon of ropes crisscrossing around her body. He made her ample tits thrust out, toying mercilessly with the nipples, and he continued binding her. Until her limbs were caught in a spiderweb of threads. Her wrists were pulled back to ankles, forcing her to kneel in her binds. She was grateful and disappointed at once, there would be no fucking today.
Instead, he dragged her to his workdesk, shoving her under it and positioning her on a pillow so that she could only hunch down and look up at him. He smiled, the same one that had disarmed her originally, made her think she’d just have a naughty afternoon of being tied up, then go back on to her normal life.
“How’s that feel, cunt?”
Closing her eyes to fight back the burning, she answered, “A slut like me loves it, sir.”
And it did. Almost comforting. The coils of rope binding her, making it impossible to move. She didn’t want to think about moving anyway, she just wanted to sink into a stupor and enjoy the embrace of the hemp chords.
“Why does it feel good?”
She sighed, “Because horny whores like me love being tied up, sir.”
“Open your mouth like a good little cock holster. That’s what you are today, a holster. How do you feel about that?”
She felt even lower than she had. And that made some wicked little point of heat throb between her thighs. She hated herself for it. He was making me do this, she didn’t really enjoy it. She wanted to lie, but told him the truth instead, “It makes me horny, sir.”
“Good girl.” He said as he wheeled his office chair in front of the desk. She saw his shirt drop to the floor, then he worked at his pants. When she saw his cock, she knew it would soon be in her mouth, and there was another flutter of heat. That cock, that piece of pink and angry red meat, had been inside her so many times. And every time it had made her cry out in ecstasy. Another burst of self-loathing, along with that heat building up deep inside her. She wanted to get this over with, wanted his cock in her mouth now.
Finally naked she could only see him from the waist down, his thick cock dangling in front of her. She wanted to shrink away from it, wanted to lean in and suck it into her mouth, wanted to feel it buried deep in her, making her scream in pleasure, wanted to hate herself for it.
He sat and scooted forward, hairy knees opening to engulf her. She couldn’t scoot back, couldn’t go anywhere. She could only sit there as his cock glided toward her, soft, hanging, a veiny mushroom-capped hunk of flesh. It pressed against her nose, and she shifted, letting it weigh on her lips. She sat there in the dim light just looking at it, feeling it touch her face, feeling dirty.
The keyboard keys clicked for a long time as she sat there, his one-eyed monster looking her right in the face. The heat in her belly continued to grow, and no matter how she shifted, she couldn’t quell it. As the minutes passed, as the keys clicked endlessly, the burning desire to take it in her mouth eventually overcame her shame and loathing.
She pursed her lips and kissed it gently, relishing that it felt as hot on her skin as the fires twisting in her guts.
****
It started with a kiss, soft lips on the tip of his cock. He knew it had only been a matter of time before she did this to herself. Sitting there in the dim light under the table with nothing to do but stare at his prick. Sluts say they don’t need to see it, that it's about context, but with nothing better to do than stare at his Darth Vader piggy bank, she’d started putting her lips on it without any encouragement from him whatsoever.
He was in no hurry. What she didn’t know was that he wasn’t sending her home until he was done with her. If it took longer than their usual couple of hours, well, she’d have to explain to her husband…
He’d simply wanted to see what would happen if she were forced to stare at the tool of so much of her ecstasy. And he was right, a cunt that came on a cock couldn’t help but want more.
She spent a long time exploring it like she’d never had an opportunity to do before. Typically, she was tied up with little choice on how or where it went. He fucked her exactly as nature intended, however the fuck he wanted.
Her kisses peppered the whole length. Along the top and sides of the shaft, then returned to give a very wet sucking kiss right on the tip. There was a slight pause before another, and he knew she’d gotten precum on her tongue. He said nothing and continued working.
It didn’t take long before he felt her moistened lips gliding along the side of the shaft, a slow worship of the tool of her destruction. Finally, she nuzzled her face into it, pressing into him to get her lips on the underside. He groaned softly when she pressed moistly against the fleshy soft bundle where the most sensitive nerves were.
For a cunt that hadn’t been used in years, she was catching on quickly. He shifted his hips pressing against her to feel a few more bursts of pleasure than she’d been providing through her own ministrations.
Like a well-trained whore she pursed her lips and shook her head in a slow, languid no, letting his cock ride between the furrow of her lips. He stopped typing and groaned. For a blackmailed slut, she was doing quite well without instruction. He moaned again to encourage her and she began sliding her lips back and forth in an increasing tempo.
All hope of a slow, pleasant day of work was gone. He couldn’t take her teasing anymore. Reaching down beneath the desk, he grabbed her face in both hands and shoved himself against her, forcing his cock to grind against her. He rolled back, pulling her with him, just enough to see her oval face and dark features, her bright brown eyes looking up at him.
Shifting again, he shoved his cock away from her lips, leaving cooling trails of her saliva across her face. When she tried to look away, he forced her face back up, daring her to look away with a glare. He ground harder against her, smashing the underside of his cock against her nose, across her cheeks, at her eyes. He decided that her face looked good covered in her own spit, whore’s spit, as his cock stiffened.
Shoving back, he pulled his cock off her face, letting gravity drag it down to aim at her like a spear. She pursed her lips, trying to lean into it, but he held her in place, only letting the very tip touch her lips. She pursed and delivered a series of soft little kisses with trails of precum dangling when she parted. His cock twitched, and she looked down, not in shame or loathing, but in an unspoken hunger.
He held her like that, enjoying the kisses she was giving to her true master. Not him, he’d coerced and blackmailed her. His cock, though, had done nothing wrong. In fact, it had done everything right, using her emotional trauma, her fight or flight, her loathing, to make her climax again and again. The cunt couldn’t but help falling in love with it.
Holding himself there, he relished his control, denied his own pleasure to acknowledge; he wasn’t some rutting animal, but a man in complete control. Delaying his own gratification meant he could torment his pussy as long as he chose. This whore’s, this milf’s, this slave’s mouth was all for him. It was his mouth. His lips. His tongue. His pretty eyes stared up at him. All his. His cockholster.
When she kissed the tip again, he gripped her tight and eased forward, allowing himself to slide into her hot, wet mouth.
“Fuck!” he groaned as her lips sealed around him. The pleasure was exquisite. A lesser man would blow right there, filling his vessel with spunk and be done, but he wanted more, he wanted to make her pay for making him feel so good.
Men should be able to do all things alone, as an island. Yet this hole made gripping his dick so much better when it was with her. The way her pussy squeezed him, the way her ass gripped so tight, the way her soft lips wrenched groans from him, those were things he couldn’t do by himself. He could actually, could jack off and release without her, but she made it so much fucking better. And that need for her help, made him resent her. Made him hate that weakness within him. Made him want the fucking whore all that much more. He was lost in how good she felt wrapped around him.
His fists wound in her hair, gripping long, wavy handfuls and pulling her in on a leash of mane. Her warm, wet, beautiful hole sucking noisily around him as he plunged into its depths. It was if it had been made for him and his cock twitched as he shoved it into her throat.
She sputtered, her eyes teared, but she refused to look away as he glared down at her. His hips rocked forward, making her sputter again, and he was proud that she didn’t pull back or gag, he’d trained her well so far.
Another thrust, and he was lost once again. Delirious in what her sucking mouth was doing to him. He began rocking into her, fucking her face with abandon. Unable to control himself completely, he groaned in rhythm to his thrusts. Let the bitch hear how much I love fucking her face. She was his perfect filthy slut. Her own emptiness needed to be stuffed full of cock.
With fists in her hair, he began yanking her into him as he thrust forward, using her face to get off into. Hips bucking, he shoved as deep as possible, wanting to feel her throat squeeze the life out of him.
“Fuck,” he grunted at her as her eyes brimmed with tears. “You are the perfect cumdump. My fuck hole. I’m… Utterly lost in how good your cock sucking mouth feels. You love every filthy moment of it, don’t you, slut? You were born to do this, to be a sleave for men better than you. Nothing more than my receptacle. My cum dump.”
When she blinked back the tears, leaving dirty mascara streaks down her face, he stabbed into her hard, “Look at me cunt… I’m going to cum in you. I’m going to blast every drop of jizz into that dirty little mouth… Nod… Show me how much you want it, slut…”
Her nod was instinctual, with a hungry, desperate look in her eyes, pleading for it. Her face a mess of her juices and their shared lust.
Every muscle in his body tensed at once as his hips continued to hammer into her.
He fucked her face, imagining she was some dirty whore.
Just using her for exactly what she’d been built for.
Feeling her lips sucking at him desperately, trying to drain out his very soul.
His groans strangled and loud, filling the room, incoherent.
With a final cry and one last shove, he exploded, sinking his cock, balls deep into her lips. Fists clutching at her tangles of hair, he drove into her, crying out in agonized ecstasy, and releasing a drowning flood of bitter thick spunk into her.
Suddenly, he shoved her face away. She tried to keep her lips sealed around him, the noise of slippery wet suction loud in the small room. He forced her back violently, his crimson cock springing free with a loud pop. Thick ropes of jizz sprayed across her face, leaving her blinking and panting as he shoved right back into her wet hole.
Groaning as the last of his strength faded into the sweet agony of her sucking mouth, the remainder of his seed spilled across her tongue, filling her mouth as she gathered his essence.
His guttural noises calmed into sated groans of pure bliss. She had done this to him. Stolen his strength. Made him cry out. Sucked out his seed. Panting ragged breaths slowed as he released her hair but continued slowly pumping his cock in and out of her mouth. He could feel his cum being stirred by himself inside her wet hole.
He pulled out and touched her spit-covered cheek, “Show me.”
His whore opened her mouth, showing that she had saved every drop. His pussy swirled her tongue, making a show of it exactly as he taught her.
“Swallow.”
After the gulp, he leaned down into her, their eyes blinking into each others. He crushed his lips to her, grabbing her by the back of the neck to smash her into him. His tongue forcing its way into her mouth, like a smaller cock claiming ownership. He broke the kiss and pushed her down.
He pressed his half-hard cock to her face, smearing cum beautifully across her pretty face. She, too, was panting, a good day's work for a whore. He continued smearing himself across her face, making sure to cover every inch of his slut with spunk.
Shoving her away, he watched as her eyes dipped down to see the aftermath of her work. His cock was still semi-rigid, covered in her saliva and his seed, a mess of dripping goo.
“Clean it,” he panted, then, after a moment, added, “What are you?
“Your whore. Your cunt. Your holster.”