*Day 2 as his Slut*
His eyes seemed to devour me. I could feel them, working their way over my body, as if he was ripping off every piece of clothing I had so carefully selected for tonight, and taking in every curve. It was winter and I was dressed warm, but his gaze made me feel stark naked. I was standing in front of him, his new possession, as he appraised my value and my worthiness. I knew I should be disgusted. I knew that his lingering and cruel eyes should make me turn and run, but I was hooked. I followed the instructions he had set for me and ordered a drink at the bar before taking a seat at the empty booth across from him. It was a test. And suddenly, it was a test I needed to pass.
I had met this man, my Master, online. One daring, drunken, and horny night, I had posted an ad on a fetish lifestyle website seeking someone that could train me into becoming a true sub and own me. I’d always fantasized about this life and I wondered what it would be like to make it a reality. I didn’t expect many responses, if any. However within hours my inbox was flooded. After chatting with a couple prospects and explaining my inexperience in the lifestyle, I met a man who I enjoyed speaking with and got along with very well. He was a little aggressive, though. And at our very first meeting, within 20 minutes, he was touching me in ways I’d never been touched. This was our second meeting, and he had sent me a set of instructions to follow for tonight.
Wary and nervous, I walked into the dimly lit and dingy bar, only to find about 8 patrons and a bartender that was busy reading a playboy as I tried to get his attention. Eventually, I ordered a drink and sat down to wait for it.
Now came the rules. He was watching me. I felt like I was being hunted. Surprisingly, I loved it. I unbuttoned my jacket slowly. He had given me specific instructions on clothing and I did not intend to disappoint. At this point, my heart was pounding so hard. I had never done anything like this before. I slipped off my jacket to reveal my dress, if you could even call it that. It had small straps and clung to me as if I had been drenched in water. My tits seemed to pour out of the top and I could feel the seam of the dress right above the edge of my bra. Barely covered and freezing, I downed my shot as soon as it arrived to warm up. Once I put my glass down, it became clear that the bartender was less interested in me paying for my drink and more interested in my G-cups that were staring him in the face. Good, I thought, this will make it much easier.
I leaned over towards the bartender and slowly pulled my shirt down a little to show the edges of my bra to him. “If you let me have a couple free drinks, we can go out back and I’ll show you my tits and you can squeeze them if you want,” I said. I was surprised. The words had actually come out of my mouth. I had actually propositioned this balding, middle-aged, sleazy man to come outside and stare at my tits. I looked over at him, sitting in the booth across from me, and he was smiling. He knew what I had just said to the bartender. He had ordered me to do so. And I had followed through. That wayward smile on his face made my body react in ways I never knew it could. I had never felt so empowered while giving up so much control. I didn’t understand it, but I knew I loved it.
“Are you fucking with me, lady?” the bartender barked at me.
“No.” His voice. His voice. It was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard. He had walked up to my table and was now standing next to the bartender. “Pour her a free drink and you can play with her tits outside,” he told the guy. The bartender nodded excitedly and left to go get my drink.
Master sat down next to me. I could feel his leg against mine. It felt electric, like the first time he had ever touched me. His hand started to drift over my thighs ever so lightly and it made me shiver. His touch was like a lightning bolt. He leaned over to me like he was about to tell me a secret for just the two of us.
“Once you’re done being a slut and showing him what’s mine, I’m going to take my cock and shove it down your throat. Are you ready for that?” He whispered it to me, so casual as if he was telling me the weather. I struggled to sit straight as his words were making me feel things I had never felt. I wanted that. I wanted him to use me. I wanted to be his little fuck toy, decency be damned. I ran my hand over his leg and rubbed his already hard cock. It was ready to burst out of his jeans and I was so excited for when I finally got to see it.
The bartender came back with my shot and I let Master feed it to me. Then the three of us left out back. There was a small light out by the door and two large trash cans squeezed into the alley between the bar and the pastry shop. Master positioned me so that I would be right under the light and he stood back and told me to strip. The bartender looked on in disbelief as I took off first my dress and then my bra, giving my tits a little jiggle and pinching my nipples.
I never thought I would be doing this. Showing my body to a man I had never met before outside in an alley. It felt so wrong. But it felt so good. I could feel my juices dripping into my panties. The bartender just stared at me until Master shoved him a little to remind him that he could touch.
His hands were cold and damp as he fumbled to grasp my breasts. He was excited, breathing heavily, cupping and pinching and contorting them into positions to please his eyes. My eyes, however, were fixed on Master’s. He looked pleased. He looked hungry. I could see his cock growing harder and I moaned, making the bartender think that his awkward grabbing was doing something for me. He dipped his head to get his mouth on me.
“That’s enough,” Master said to him before his lips could touch me, “go back inside and finish your shift. Slut, say thank you to the nice man for the drink.”
“Thank you, sir,” I whispered to the sleazy, old man as he adjusted his pants and walked back inside, presumably to jack off before continuing his shift.
Master pulled my hair and pushed me up against the alley wall. He bit down hard on my neck and pulled my ass to him so I could feel him hard against me. I worked my body closer to his and moaned into the wall as his hands explored me. I felt fabric ripping as he moved over my legs, tearing my tights, squeezing and slapping my thighs. I groaned as he grabbed my ass and tugged my hair, putting his lips to my ears. “Such a good Kitten,” he growled, before pushing down on my back so that my ass was extended towards him. He smacked it. Hard. I let out a shriek as he continued to assault my barely covered flesh. His hands were so big, twice the size of my small ones. It felt wonderful as he landed the ninth, then tenth hard smack on me, leaving me stinging and gasping, gripping at the bricks for some support, any support to keep me from tumbling against the wall.
He ran his fingers into my hair, grasped and pulled hard, turning me around to face him. My tits were still uncovered and my tights half torn off from his handling. I was breathing hard yet he seemed unchanged. He was fraying at the edges, though, and I could see his excitement over having found such a good slut. He pushed me against the wall and stared. His eyes, those steel-hard eyes, worked their way over my body. His expression was so firm. I had no idea what he was thinking. I wanted him to touch me, kiss me, use me. Anything. Just not stare at me while I stood there half naked and man handled in a dirty alley.
His eyes never left mine as he moved close and his hands found their way to my breasts. He was rough, grabbing harder than the bartender had, and pinching my nipples till a tiny cry finally escaped my lips. I closed my eyes and felt his mouth start to tease my breasts. Letting out a soft moan, I leaned into him and gripped his shoulders as his tongue and teeth played with my nipples.
“Fuck!” I wasn’t prepared when he slapped my breast. It was a moment of pure shock and stinging ecstasy. He leaned back to look into my eyes. One hand held my breast and the other swung down, hard. I tried to hold back my cries as he continued to slap each breast that way. He kept going, building up the pain, stopping only to bite down on my nipples. A couple minutes and I couldn’t take it anymore. “Please,” I whimpered, barely able to stand now.
I yelped as he grabbed my now tangled hair and pulled my head forward, as if he were reprimanding a dog. “Listen,” he asserted, “you are mine. You do not tell me when to stop. I decide when to stop. I will do whatever I want to you, whenever I want to do it. You decided this when you agreed to be mine, Slut. If you want out, tell me right now, and you can walk away and never hear from me again.”
His hands released me and he stepped back, watching me with a slight smirk. He knew I wasn’t going anywhere. Our first meeting had sealed that. I had been his from the very moment he had so brazenly slid his fingers inside me. We were at a restaurant for our first date; mid-conversation, his hand slid under the table to my thighs and moved them apart. He had stared straight at me as he pushed aside my panties and shoved first one, then two fingers in me even as we were surrounded in a restaurant full of people. He brought me closer to orgasm as the waiter delivered us our food, and I tried as hard as I could to stay calm and not make a sound. His eyes stayed locked on mine as my orgasm ripped through me; I was gripping the table for support, my legs shaking, my breath stopped. At that moment, I was his. There was no turning back for me.
Now, standing in that alley, almost naked and freezing, I pulled him close to me and kissed him. My hands moving down to his jeans and unbuttoning. I pulled down the zipper and slid my hand inside, wrapping around that lovely cock I had yet to suck. He sighed and gripped my shoulders, pushing me back and shaking his head. We were going to do this, but on his terms, not mine. I knew I would get my way eventually, but for now, he had to teach me and remind me that I was his and that I needed to follow orders.
He slid down his jeans and boxers, releasing his hard dick. It was bigger than I was used to, and I involuntary shuddered at the thought of him fucking me with that thing. “On your knees,” he instructed. I kneeled down in front of him and waited for his next instructions. Standing still for a bit, he watched in enjoyment as I hungrily eyed his cock, my mouth eager to wrap around it. He gripped his cock and slapped me on the face with it a few times. I could feel myself getting wetter, just the sight of his dick in front of my face turning me on more than it should.
He suddenly grabbed at my hair and pulled my mouth onto him, without warning, slamming into my throat as I struggled to breathe. My hands wrestled with his, trying to remove his grip on my head. He pulled me back a second, letting me catch my breath before slamming into my throat again. He held me there for a bit as I stopped struggling, his hand wrapping around my throat, as he started to thrust slowly. Drool dropped from my mouth as his balls slapped my chin with him sliding back and forth in my throat. He was deeper in my throat than anyone had been before and it took all my efforts not to gag and to just breathe as he fucked my face to his satisfaction. I was tearing up as he started to thrust harder. Without warning, he pulled out and slapped his wet-with-drool dick across my face twice, then lifted it to bring me face to face with his balls. I knew what he wanted and I took them in my mouth and sucked as best I could before he pulled back. He rubbed his wet balls all over my face before once again shoving his cock into my mouth.
I relished this feeling. I was on my knees in a disgusting alley, having my face used and fucked. I was a mess. My hair was in complete chaos and my face covered in spit and tears, my makeup smeared. If anyone walked by and saw me, they would think horrible, dirty thoughts, and I loved it. I found my mind drifting and my pussy dripping, but had to come back to reality as he started to thrust harder. My hands gripped his in an effort to slow him down, but it was useless. He groaned and thrust into my throat so deep I thought I was going to throw up. I tightened my lips and swallowed everything that I was gagging up, and as my throat tightened, he went over the edge. His fingers tightened in my hair as he pulled me hard against his pelvis. Groaning, he started to cum deep in my throat as I swallowed every drop. He held me there as he pumped his cum into me. I felt his fingers relax slightly, and he pulled back so that just the head was now in my mouth. I sucked and licked, running my tongue around it and enjoying the feeling of being able to play with him. He pulled away however, and rubbed his dick on my face and tits to get the spit off of it.
“Good slut,” he uttered as he pulled up his pants and tucked his penis away. I was still on my knees in front of him, a complete mess from his handling. He looked at me and smiled. My tits heaved as I tried to catch my breath and wipe some spit from my face. There were slight red marks on my tits still from him slapping me. I could feel my knees sore from the gravel. His eyes moved over my body once again and I could see them gleam as if I was his masterpiece. I felt proud; I had pleased my Master. His fingers combed through my hair, softly now, and he leaned down to kiss my forehead and then my lips, gentler then I expected. He helped me up and handed me my dress and bra so that I could get dressed. Kissing my nipple one last time, he leaned in and whispered, “you go clean up and meet me back at the table.” I slid on my dress and headed inside and into the bathroom, hoping no one would notice me sneaking in the back.
Looking at myself in the mirror, I saw a horribly abused woman. Her hair was matted and tangled as if she had stepped out of a jungle. Her makeup was smeared. Her tits red from the slaps and small bruises of hickeys forming on her neck and chest. I looked at her and smiled. I felt so alive. I loved being owned and used like this. I craved it.
After cleaning up as best I could and disposing my ripped up tights altogether, I went back into the bar only to find that Master had left. The bartender caught my attention and handed me a slip of paper, making sure to grab my ass before walking away. I sighed and opened the note as I walked back to my car where a single rose was waiting on my windshield.
*Until next time, my kitten.
You were wonderful.*
– Love, M
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/nw50nf/confessions_of_a_good_kitten