She couldn’t move when she woke from her nap.
She was lying on her front, and she was naked. She’d fallen asleep wearing one of his old college shirts, which she always did when he was away because it smelled like him, and the shirt was gone. So were her boy shorts.
She found she couldn’t close her legs when she tried scissored them. Her wrists were bound behind her back; her elbows flapped uselessly. Her fingers felt the knot, and her racing heart slowed. She recognized it.
His voice came from behind her. “My sleeping slut wakes at last.”
"You’re home."
His fingertips stroked lightly over her flank. “I’m home.”
"I’m glad."
His hand closed in a tight, controlled squeeze over her ass at the same time she felt three long, blunt fingers plunging into her cunt without warning. “I can tell.” His voice was roughly amused. “There’s my good slut, always open and wet for her owner.”
"Always," she managed to say hoarsely when she caught her breath again.
"That’s right. You know you’re always supposed to keep your holes wet and ready for me to use. You like it when I use my slut, don’t you?"
"Oh yes," she sighed on a groan. Hs fingers were pumping steadily in and out of her, and her legs were pulling uselessly at the ropes.
"What about your ass?" he teased. "You want me to play with this tight ass?"
"Yes, Sir." He’d broken her ass in properly over a long period of time during which he’d ignored her pussy and diligently screwed her ass with all manner of plugs. Until he’d finally deemed her ready by driving her to the point where she’d begged him to fuck her in the ass. Since then she kept her asshole greased in case he was of the mind to bend her over and play with that hole.
"Well done, slut," he praised her, "You’re such a good whore, keeping your holes lubricated for your owner."
She bucked against his fingers at his words. He took his fingers away immediately because as he’d lectured her, he fucked her, not the other way around. He wiped them on her flank, smearing her juices on her skin. “Luscious, filthy slut.” He sounded pleased, and he should be. His training had transformed her into exactly what he wanted and expected.
The plea slipped from her lips accidentally. “Please, Sir, may I cum..!”
"You know the rules, Emily." His voice was hard.
She swallowed. “Please gag me, Sir,” she said, her voice strained and frustrated.
"Why should I?"
"Because your slut can’t control herself," she sighed on a sob.
She felt his presence leave the room briefly. When he returned, he straddled her on the bed, grinding his cock into the soft swell of her ass. He gathered her hair carefully in one hand and pulled her head back, back, lifting her chin up off the bed.
"Hold."
She maintained the strenuous position, bowing her back and holding her head back, as he fitted a sizable O-ring gag into her mouth and strapped it behind her head. When the gag was in place, he gently pressed on the back of her head, indicating she could lower her chin to a more comfortable angle.
"Who owns your holes?" He asked, still astride her. His thumb passed through the metal O and stroked her tongue.
"You do, Sir," she garbled through the gag and her building saliva. She wished she could suck his thumb into her mouth, but the gag prevented that.
"What does that mean, my little whore?" His thumb traced her saliva around her lips. His other hand wrapped lightly around her throat.
"My orgasms belong to you," she tried to say, humiliated as she listened to her distorted, desperate speech. She was drooling copiously now, and his hand cupped her chin, collecting it in his palm. She moaned loudly.
"That’s right. My slut doesn’t come until I say. And that’s the way you like it, isn’t it?" he goaded her.
"Yes, Sir," she said, the words barely intelligible, stewing in hot humiliation at the way he made her admit it. She hated that he could chose not to let her cum, and that more often than not, he staved off her orgasms until she thought she’d explode. She hated how he would deliberately bait her by acting as though letting her cum or denying her orgasms were done on a whim — though she knew his every move and command of her was calculated — the cavalier way he acted in face of her desperation to orgasm underscored her neediness, an uncontrollable slut who thought nothing of nothing except cumming, who was often driven to the point where she was inarticulate in even being able to ask for permission, fired her humiliation and zipped straight to her cunt.
Like now. Her body was on fire. He pushed his cock into her bound hands at the small of her back, letting her feel how hard he was for her. Her legs jerked at their bonds. More drool pooled into the hand that cupped her chin. She panted through the open hole of her mouth.
He slid off her, kneeling by her side on the bed, one hand held under her gagged mouth, the other cupping her pussy.
"Look at my sweet slut," he murmured. "My whore is dripping from both ends for her owner’s cock, isn’t she?"
Cock, fingers, toys, anything, she thought. So long as he was home and making good use of her.