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Subservient Slut

I'm only too willing to please him.
I knew my Master was on his way. We'd agreed earlier this week to meet at this motel. I look around the room to make sure that everything is in place. The room in which I await his arrival isn't lavish, but it's clean and affordable. Besides, at least here we wouldn't draw any unwanted attention from anybody snooping around. Since he was scheduled to arrive at any moment, I situate myself into the position required for greeting Daddy.

In the far corner of the room lies a cushion where I kneel naked, waiting. I hang my head down, so that my eyes are focused on the floor. This was mandatory whenever Master and I got together. Taking another quick glance at the clock, I start to grow anxious. In a feeble attempt keep my wits, I try to focus on something, anything, which will distract me. That something was the collar, tight, around my neck.

It had been a gift from Daddy, for being his good little girl. A charm hung from the metal ring spelling out the word, slut. Most people would consider it to be vulgar, or degrading. To me, however, it is a symbol of acceptance and unity. It signifies that I belong to him. Truthfully, I'd have it no other way. The Master treated me like a princess. That is as long as I remained devoted to his every whim.

The sound of the key card sliding into the lock makes my heart skip a beat. I smell his body spray the moment he opens the door. My Daddy is home! I listen to his soft sound of amusement, as he puts down his things and gets comfortable. The whole time he moves about, I remain in my spot. I know better than to move or speak without permission. I hear him turn on the television and settle comfortably on the couch. Even though I wait like an obedient slut, he pretends not to acknowledge my presence.

It is a game we often play; Daddy's little way of testing me. In the beginning, it had been quite difficult to resist whatever temptations he withheld. Over time though I have gotten a handle on my self-control. Still it is getting more difficult to ignore the ache growing between my thighs, and the wetness that accompanied it. I haven't seen him in so long, even my body works against me. With some effort I fight the urge to break my role, and rush over to his side. I remain on my cushion reluctantly. Moving without permission would only accomplish in me getting punished. Depending on Daddy's mood, that could be a flying leap in the dark.

"How's my little slut doing today?" his voice carries from across the room.

Even though his words are directed at me, I don't reply. Another test of my willpower and my desire to obey. But oh how Daddy knows that I struggle with the urge not to respond. For my own sake, or rather the sake of my backside I resist. Daddy enjoys every opportunity he gets to punish me. Secretly I, both, enjoy and despise my punishments. Particularly because my own body betrays me at my lowest moments.

Daddy's punishments are designed for pain, but are never without pleasure. That is what makes each experience so bittersweet. I love, as much as hate Daddy. I Love him for all that he is, and hate him for having so much control over me. This was the lifestyle I had chosen for myself though and I knew what I was getting into from the start. What I hadn't been prepared for was how much I'd obtain from it all.

I didn't realize I've been holding my breath, until Daddy rose up from the couch and made his way toward me. My chest rises and lowers, though I attempt to keep as inconspicuous as possible. The Master is no fool. I have no doubts that he can see right through my façade. He bends down to my level and cups my chin in his hand. My breath hitches at the contact. Tilting my head back, he looks into my eyes.

"That's my good girl," he says before capturing my lips with his own.

***

This simple gesture is my cue that I'm allowed to move at my own free will. Yet, I stay put. When he turns and makes his way back toward the couch, I count up to ten. Only on the strike of ten do I dare rise from my cushion. I am now permitted to do as I please, as long as Daddy approves.

Whilst Daddy stands near the couch, I head over to the small refrigerator. Like the obedient slut that I am, I begin mixing the cocktail of his preference. I don't have to look in order to know that his eyes are trained on me. Like a tingle of electric fire, I can feel it. With the skill of a seasoned waitress, I grab the glass and take it to him. He takes it, rewarding me with a smile of approval.

Using his free hand, he tucks my hair behind my ears. I melt into his touch. Reopening my eyes, I am unable to resist the urge to look down. As I'd hoped, the front of his jeans have grown tight. The temptation to feel him is mind boggling. Slowly, I reach out and massage the bulge in his pants. Daddy groans, watching me as he takes another drink from the glass. With a gesturing motion from his head, he hints for me to go to the bed.

Compliantly I walk over and sit on the edge of the mattress. Daddy throws back the remainder of his drink, and then walks over to stand in front of me. He strokes his hand over my soft hair, looking at me with burning intensity. Without further provocation, I know what he desires. Deftly I unzip his jeans, pulling them down just enough to free his erection from its denim prison. I work my hand along his shaft, and worship Daddy's cock. He groans letting his neck lull to the side. All the while, my hands massage his erect pole. One hand squeezing his shaft as it moves back and forth; the other kneading and tugging on his balls.

I lean in and begin to kiss his gorgeous manhood. I warm his sensitive skin with the heat of my breath. I work the head of his cock, licking up the pre-cum oozing at its tip. Then opening my mouth I pull him in between my lips. My mouth now firmly around his shaft, I release a moan letting him know that I enjoy performing my services. Again, he strokes a hand through my hair. As I glide my mouth back and forth along his shaft, I put much affection into it. Daddy places both of his hands on the back of my head, but does not apply force. The pleasure I bestow onto him is mine alone. No assistance required.

I ease his hard cock deeper into my mouth, until it breaches the entrance of my throat. With one hand, I stroke his engorged dick helping to guide it farther still. With my opposite hand, I continue massaging his sac. My Daddy deserves the best, and I plan to give him no less. By the time he motions for me to stop, I can tell he is resisting the urge to cum. Pulling back slowly to allow his cock to slip out of my mouth, I observe how slick it is with my saliva. Innocently, I stare up at him. I make no attempt to hide the longing in my expression.

Even though Daddy and me have been together numerous times, he'd yet to penetrate my pussy. Daddy hadn't done so, not because he didn't want to. Simply it was because we wanted to keep things interesting. It was a good way to keep our encounters from turning stale. The time for waiting and all the built up anticipation, however, was over. Tonight I was utterly 100% his for the taking. Both of us fully intend to savor this moment.

Unlike all of our previous rendezvous, there was no shortage of time. No pressure to hurry back to our pre-existing lives apart from this one. Tonight is for us and us alone. We can do what we want, when we want, and nobody would be here to stop us. As the reality of it sinks in I stifle a smile. Despite Daddy's adoration of my smile, now is hardly the appropriate time.

"Lay back and get comfortable slut," Daddy commands.

Something in his tone catches my attention. There is an underlying demand. Instinctively, I know that I am not meant to move a muscle, nor make a sound. Admittedly, this will be particularly difficult for me. Not only am I forbidden to allow my body to react naturally to his advances, but also I have to repress my vocal responses to the stimulation. Honestly, it is a hefty order to fill and I'm not certain I can deliver the intended results. Still, like the obedient slave I am determined to be, I try my best.

I lay back silently, tucking my arms beneath me. I hope it would help me to resist the urges that are already threatening to transpire. Daddy frowns at me, shaking his head. Holding back my sigh of exasperation, I remove my arms and place them reluctantly at my sides. Shit, I think, he isn't fooling around this weekend. That much was becoming painfully obvious. Yet, I'm far too excited to dwell on that fact. As I lay there unmoving, I observe him as he stands at the foot of the bed.

Keeping his steely eyes locked on mine, he removes only his shirt. His jeans are still undone, giving me full view of his protruding cock. Noticing where my eyes have been lingering, he wraps a hand around his shaft and strokes it a few times. When Daddy wants to, he can be quite the tease. Suddenly, he grabs me behind my knees and pulls me to the edge of the bed. As my legs dangle over the side of the mattress, I start to tremble. The anticipation of what is to come has my nerves on over drive. Long have I waited this moment.

Daddy, affectionately, begins rubbing his hands along my inner thighs. Grabbing each of my knees, he spreads apart my legs, gaining unhindered access to my bare sex. Already I struggle against the desire to move. He lowers his head nipping and kissing a trail toward the apex of my thighs. My eyes flutter shut, as his warm breath reaches my cunt. When I look back at him, he is smiling at me with a cocky grin.

"Don't move, or make a sound sweetheart," he says in a husky voice.

The words are said with much love and tenderness, but the undertone of dominance is unmistakable. I have to focus all of my attention on remaining still, when his tongue slides up my swollen slit. When he reaches my clit he twirls his tongue around it in tiny circles. I can feel the muscles in my thighs twitch uncontrollably. I know full well that Daddy is enjoying the profound effect he has on my body. This is a game he cannot lose, and we both are aware of it!

Master then inserts two fingers into my tight hole. Every now and again he curls his fingers toward him, deliberately stroking my g-spot. I bite my lip, hard, to prevent myself from whimpering. My fists balling together in the sheets. The instant he spreads me farther apart, I know I am in for it. Daddy dives in before I can so much as steady my breath. I feel his tongue dart in and out of my tight little slut hole. By now more than just my thighs are trembling.

Daddy licks and sucks at my cunt feverishly. My palms are sweating from the excursion of my battle with resistance. Of which I am quickly losing. When Daddy starts to finger fuck me using deep strokes, I shatter. I cry out in pleasure, and grab his head pulling him into me. Any concerns of my unavoidable punishment, don't matter in the slightest. My orgasm ripples through out my entire body with intense pleasure. Daddy groans drinking in my sweet juices. Juices reserved especially for him.

I collapse onto the mattress as my orgasm slowly subsides. Daddy stops pleasuring my pussy, and grabs me again behind the knees. In one swift display of masculine strength, Daddy flips me over, so that I now lay on my stomach. My heart plummets as the realization of what's about to happen dawns on me. I don't look at him out of shame. I had disobeyed his commands to remain still and silent. Therefore, I deserved to be punished for my actions. Tears sting my eyes even though nothing has happened yet.

"You were a naughty wench," he says, self-satisfaction imminent. "You deserve to be punished."

I hold my breath, waiting what is inevitably to come. I dare not clench my body, or move away. I just want this over with as soon as possible. His hand lands with a solid smack upon my backside. Ten spankings is my due reward for rebelience. Tears roll down my cheeks, not just from the sting of each strike, but for another reason. I cry because of my perverse reaction to his punishments. My body is betraying me yet again. After each spanking, my arousal heightens. Even more so as he massages my ass in between strikes. I'm accustomed to the routine. With as much devotion as I can summon I say the following.

"One. I love you Daddy. Please sir, may I have another?"

Over and over I repeat my mantra until he finishes. When his hands loosen their possession on me, I remain absolutely still. I feel Daddy crawl possessively over my body. His chest against my back keeps me pinned in place. Grabbing a fist full of my hair, he pulls back my head, firmly.

"Don't ever disobey me again." He kisses me passionately before continuing, "Now turn over."

I do as I am told and roll over to face him. Daddy begins jacking his cock, aiming for my face and tits. In no time at all he groans releasing a cascade of his seed onto my body. Daddy takes a few moments to look over his work. Then he backs off the bed and stands looking at me with mock disdain. Mock disdain or not, it still stings.

"Go clean yourself up," Daddy growls.

Not meeting his gaze, I hastily remove myself from the bed, and hurry into the bathroom. In the bathroom, I wash the man chowder from my body. Staring at myself in the mirror, I finally permit myself to smile. The fact that I had been punished didn't matter. I love the way I feel everytime I am with Daddy. With each new encounter comes the feeling of being revitalized.

I can't deny how strong my passion for him really is. To do so is futile. My true emotions do not come from lust, or pretending to be in love. Our relationship is pure, and undeniably real. Our love is true. Neither of us will deny that. He is a part of my world, and I a part of his. Now, he'd finally become a part of me. Content with this realization I get into the shower to clean up, like Daddy had commanded.

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