Kitchen Toy [M/f story with Master/slave, degradation, use as a fucktoy][M38 F33]

I always want sex. Rough sex, brutal sex, the harder and more sadistic the better. One day it’ll be my downfall. But not today.

I’m standing at the kitchen sink, washing up some dishes, when he comes out of his study behind me. I’m naked as usual, with just my harness on.

Every day, when I get home from work, he always makes me change. He strips off all my clothes and padlocks my harness to me. A belt goes around my waist. I wear a collar and wrist cuffs and ankle cuffs and thigh cuffs, all connected with straps. A simple harness around my torso, framing my breasts. It is all padlocked to me so I can never take it off.

I can never open the door when anyone knocks, because this is what I wear, all day, every day when I’m at home. If I’m unlucky, he’ll put a chastity belt on me, and then I know it’ll be a long night of him torturing me, groping and suckling on my breasts, making me suck him off, but never getting any sensation on my pussy.

If I’m super unlucky, he’ll padlock me to the furniture or wall, telling me to stand and wait and be a good girl until he comes back.

But today, I’m roaming free and he’s clearly in an amorous mood. He strokes me from behind, his hands caressing my hips and stomach, before sliding up to play with my generous breasts. His breath is warm against the side of my neck.

‘Ready to earn your keep?’ he asks, his voice lazy, but I know it’s not really a question.

He doesn’t wait for an answer, in any case.

‘Touch your toes,’ he orders me. ‘All the way down. Go on.’

I bend forward immediately. This is what he likes about me. My unthinking, unrestrained obedience. When he speaks, I must obey. It is in my nature. When my hands are down at my feet, he kicks my ankles slightly wider apart. Then he bends down and padlocks my wrist cuffs to my ankle cuffs.

‘There,’ he says, straightening himself up again. ‘You’ll stay here until I’ve finished with you.’

The words are unnecessary. He has locked my hands to my feet and here I must stay until he deigns to unlock me.

‘Are you wet?’ he asks, his voice flat and cold.

‘Yes, Boss,’ I say, though I know I’m only half-wet at the moment.

I have to say ‘yes’, it’s the rules. I have to call him ‘Boss’. I have to always be wet for him. It doesn’t matter that I’m not, I know I’ll get wet soon enough with whatever he has planned for me.

That doesn’t mean I don’t feel vulnerable though. I am bent fully forward at the waist, padlocked into this position. I know he can see right inside me. He can do whatever he wants right now to my pussy and cunt.

‘He he he,’ he chuckles, the laughter heavy. ‘You’re just going to stay there and be good, aren’t you?’

‘Yes, Boss,’ I say. Once again, his question seems pointless.

‘Silly slut,’ he says, without any particular rancour in his voice. ‘The lads have asked for some pictures. I thought it was about time you gave them something. Given how kind they always are to you.’

If by ‘how kind the lads always are to me’, he means how I always give them all blowjobs on game nights, then the lads are very kind indeed.

I don’t really like sport, which is just as well. Living with the Boss, it’s been a long time since I actually saw any of the games. I’m either on my knees sucking off one of the men, or I’m riding one of them, using my cunt to get him off, or I’m bent forward over the lounge, one of the blokes’ cocks buried inside either my cunt or my anus.

If by ‘how kind the lads always are to you,’ he means how I always let them do whatever perverted, messed-up sexual thing they want to do to me. I am all of their fucktoy and none of them has ever done a thing for me, except fuck me viciously, cruelly, meanly, just the way I need it.

I don’t really care that they are all so cruel to me. I don’t live with the man I call the Boss because I want kindness. I live with him because I get the kind of sex I like. The kind of sex I need. I need his nasty mind and his brutish needs. If he’s ever too tired to treat me like a fucktoy, he always lets one of his buddies fill his place.

So I just say, ‘yes Boss,’ again, my voice dulcet, soft.

I know I may not enjoy what he is about to do to me. I do feel humiliated and ridiculous, my face hanging just above the dirty kitchen floor. It’s worse because of the abandoned dishes coagulating in the cooling water in the sink above me.

But later the Boss will be riding me hard, no thought for anything other than his pleasure. He is rough and brutal, he always fucks me so viciously that he hurts me, and I can’t live without it.

‘He he,’ he snickers. ‘I’ve got a game for your slutty little hole.’

‘Kitchen Toy’ is a short story with 2 to 3 parts. Follow me for updates.

© 2023 Pixie Isobella

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/127kfb4/kitchen_toy_mf_story_with_masterslave_degradation