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"You're Late"

A hard and fast account: Your punishment for me takes a different turn than I was expecting.

“You’re late,” you hiss as I arrive. I frown. I hadn’t thought I was late at all. I check my watch again and I cringe. Crap… late.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” I whisper, knowing the words are empty to you. We'd already spoken about my tardiness before, and this was meant to be my "last strike". Fuck.

You turn to your friends and make conversation. The bartender offers me a drink, and I order Jameson and Sprite, knowing I’ll need a stronger drink to get through the punishment you’re dreaming up.

If only the Uber driver had listened to my directions. We wouldn’t have gotten lost. But he didn’t, we did, and here I am: squirming.

You place your hand on my leg and squeeze. Oops, guess I’m squirming more than I thought.

The evening continues with a smile plastered to my face. I participate in each topic as as they come. I make your friends laugh and smile. I can see that they like me, and hope that wins points in my favor. A tiny spark of hope flutters in my mind, hopefully the brownie points I win with your friends can get me out of my punishment. A sideways glance from you tells me I'm mistaken.

Your friends leave about an hour from last call. I look around, noticing the very few patrons the bar has now.

“Bathroom,” you whisper, disappearing into the men’s room. Ah, shit. Here we go…

I check myself in the mirror. My long red-brown hair is down in softly tousled waves. My brown eyes are framed by dark brown liner and black mascara. My makeup is fairly neutral, except for my lips. Earlier tonight I’d put on a deep burgundy – almost black lipstick, with a mid-length dress that matched. I’m ready.

No sooner did I enter the men’s room did I feel your hand in my hair. You curl your fingers at the nape of my neck, and I drop to my knees with no additional prompting from you.

“Open your mouth,” you demand, your voice cold.

I already know what’s going to happen, but I still gag around your cock as you force it into my throat. My first instinct is to pull back, but I ignore it. Instead, I push forward, loosening my jaw and letting my tongue loll out of my mouth so that it grazes the top of your balls. I hear you groan in pleasure.

“That’s it, slut. Take my cock into your little whore mouth,” you drawl, holding the back of my head. Your hips begin thrusting, using my skull as your personal fuck-toy. Your free hand pulls down the top of my dress, exposing my breasts.

The sound of the slaps reaches me before the sting does. I moan on your cock, choking as you push forward again. Tears well up in my eyes.

“Did you miss gagging on my cock, filthy slut?” You ask, still thrusting.

It’s hard to answer with your cock in my throat, but I do anyway. My “Yes, Sir” comes out a muffled garble, but it appeases you, and I’m awarded more slaps on my breasts. I squeeze my eyes shut, tears spilling over my cheeks.

You suddenly pull out, strings of my saliva follow your cock as you withdraw from my lips. “Fucking skank, you made a mess,” you grin.

I resist the urge to grin back. I really am a mess… my lipstick marks the length of your shaft, making a slightly smudgy impression on your pelvis. Tears leave trails of my liner and mascara, making the rest of my makeup streaky.

You reach down and throw me to my hands and knees – the cold linoleum biting my knees. The air cold on my ass as my dress is yanked up. No panties – just like you want.

The sound of your slaps echo in the restroom. I wince but make no moves and no sounds of my own. I can feel my skin rising and melting with each slap now.

A tug from behind has my head pulled back by my aching roots, my back arching painfully. “What are you?” your voice is husky with primal lust.

“A cumslut cock-addicted whore,” I choke out, my own voice scraping against my well-fucked throat.

I’m relieved when you release my hair in favor of viciously spanking my ass several times over, lining your cockhead at the entrance to my ass.

I clench my teeth and groan as you push in, not caring to be gentle. Your sigh of pleasure makes my pussy tingle, even if the rest of me is internally screaming.

Your thrusts are fast and hard, your hips rutting against the welts on my tender ass.

It fucking hurts. My ass burns, my throat is raw, my ass is stretched with your pounding.

But I don’t want you to stop.

“Fucking beg,” you hiss, leaning over me and wrapping a strong hand around my throat.

I try, but all that comes out are whispers. Your hand presses a bit more, cutting off my air for a few thrusts before you loosen your grip. “Beg for it!” you repeat as I inhale sharply and cough.

“Please come for me, Sir,” I whimper.

You growl and slap my ass hard. Your hips keep their pace as you thrust into my abused and stretched hole.

I continue, my panting in fast, short gasps, “Please come in my ass, Sir. I’m a dirty fucking cumslut whore fuckdoll, Sir!”

All these words spew from my mouth almost automatically. My brain has almost shut down from the painful pleasure you’re using to punish me.

Your hand wraps around my throat again, hauling me to my knees in front of you as you withdraw your cock from me. Your hand jerks your cock for only seconds before you unload. My pussy tingles as your groan of satisfaction accompanies, watching you spurt rope after rope of hot, sticky cum all over my face, neck and chest.

When you let go, I carefully pull you into my mouth, using my lips and tongue to gently clean you off. You groan and pull away after only a few seconds and tuck your cock back into your pants. “Look in the mirror.”

I stand up, clutching the porcelain sink. I should gasp in surprise from what I see, but I don’t. I had known what to expect since you told me I was late.

My hair is a tangled mess; my makeup and lipstick are smeared all over my face and lips, which are swollen from the skull-fucking you just gave me. Your sticky cum coats most of my face and breasts, which are a deep shade of red. I don’t need to look at my ass to know it’s worse…

You come up behind me with a smile, the primal look still in your eyes.

I move my hands to pull my dress.

“No,” you murmur. “Leave it as it is. Walk through the bar, freshly fucked, exposed, and covered in cum. Make eye contact and say goodnight like a good little fuckdoll.”

I stiffen, knowing you’re serious, and knowing my earlier use and abuse hadn’t been intended as my real punishment.

I leave the bathroom with you following a couple paces behind me.

I make eye contact with each person that is still there, shaking nervously. I count to make sure each of the ten men get a good look at my cum-coated tits.

I’m messy, dripping with cum, breasts and ass exposed. I’m humiliated and degraded.

I’m a total slut.

Fuck, I’m wet…

I give a little hairflip to the bartender, who openly oogles my sore tits and ruined makeup.

I glance at you as I leave the bar and make my way to your car. The grin you wear makes it plain that I’ve pleased you.

I’ve enjoyed your punishment. Thank you, Sir.

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