​

I awake to the sound of your labor, as I do most mornings. You're working your tongue in that way I've trained you to, all throat and slobber. You wouldn't dare let me feel any teeth.

"Morning Master," you whisper, bobbing your head up for air, eyeliner dark and blotchy on your face. I like you that way, made up before I wake, dressed in a small thong that shows the bruises you treasure as trophies. Today's flavor is red lingerie, and you've pulled the sides up, the cloth tight against your worthless cunt. It drips even now, as you move your mouth down in loving worship.

You've always told me that you live to eat ass. I don't really care, but there is something powerful in seeing you squirm as you press your lips and nose against me.

"Easy cunt," I warn. "Don't lose yourself." But of course, you do, feeding like a pig to the trough. You're not disobedient by nature, I know that, just desperate. Still a cunt must learn better.

I sit up, eyes gleaming with frustration and you whimper in frustration at loosing your meal. "Pig, you will do what you are told." I scold. "Good girl's don't cum. They certainty don't get lost in their pleasure. Now, come here cunt."

You oblige, whispering a "yes master."

"That's a good cunt," I coo as you crawl over to me. I take you by your collar and pull you over my lap, pushing two of my fingers into your mouth. You suck them gently, pacified as I pull your thong aside and reveal your morning plug. The rules are simple. You are plugged when not at work, and often when at it too. It vibrates at 5:00 am sharp to get you out of bed, and again at 10:00 pm to warn you that it's time to rest.

"Open." I order, and you oblige, mouth drooling as I plop the plug into your hole. Some doms prefer ball gags -- this works just as well and is cheaper too.

"Fifteen counts." I warn, grabbing my crop the bedtime table. You better lean into each one, or we will start again.

"One."

"Two"

You squirm, but do what you are told, pushing into my hand to receive the hit. Your nipples are stone hard from the pain, and your cunt is dripping. I touch it with my left hand briefly, running fingers over your swollen clit and admiring the two little rings on your labia; one for each year you have served.

I reach "fifteen," soon enough, and put my hand out to retrieve the plug. You are shuttering, but manage a thank you master. "Finish, cunt." I command, and you are ravenous to prove your worth, taking me all down as you try to make up for past mistakes.

"Play," I command, and you comply, running yourself as you work to earn my load. Soon, you are close, always so quick to finish.

"Master please," you beg between strokes. "can I cum master?"

"Absolutely not." I smile, petting your head, knowing exactly how much you love it. "But you may feed." I command, finally loosing myself to your mouth.