I love cock. I love licking cock. I love sucking cock. I love choking on cock. I love all the ways my body can be used by cock.

Specifically, I love your cock.

Yours had the ability to turn me into an absolutely depraved whore, focused on the singularity of my existence: servicing your cock. I don't know when it started, or even how - when we'd met, we were just gaming friends. Then the bets started. Losing was innocent at first, but as our bets got higher, so did the stakes. I was an addict for the winnings - you were always so arrogant when it came to our games that I loved taking the money I was owed.

The best part was I didn't have to pay you when I lost. It was just insignificant little tasks like doing your dishes, cooking you dinner, or walking your dog. Then came the losing streak. I was so confident that you would never beat me, I hadn't noticed all the new gear you'd purchased for your character. That was the first time I spent game night with my tits out. It just evolved from there - there was no way we were going back to cleaning sinks and taking out the trash once the smallest sexual boundary had been crossed.

If I was asked how the change from that first time to this happened so quickly, I wouldn't be able to tell them. It was a blur - I spent so much time at your place dedicated to evening the score that I eventually stopped repaying my debts so we could focus more on the game. By the time you'd come to collect, I was overdue on so many tasks that you'd shown up with a complete list of every single depraved item you'd kept track of for each bet. Tasks that I now had to catch up on.

So now, as I'm on my knees, breathlessly staring up at you behind hooded eyes, I was too embroiled in the changes you'd orchestrated to consider the checklist anymore. At some point previously, when I laid sobbing on the ground, begging you to stop spanking me, it occurred to me that it was better to stop keeping track. The list was too fucking exhaustive, and it was better in the long-run to just let things play out. Otherwise, we have nights like that night, where you first perused the punishment section to deliver a lesson in compliance when I refused to show up for our "date". Tonight, you were gripping your chin between your thumb and index finger, holding my mouth further open so you could thrust your cock in and out of my throat with no resistance.

My eyes are soaked with tears, clouding my vision, but I could still make it the faint image of you smirking over me. It was that confident, smug look that made my thoughts melt, forgetting whatever discomfort I was momentarily feeling. A thick strand of saliva hung between us when you pulled out, which you quickly remedied by swiping at it with the head of your cock before swiping it across my face.

"Such a good little whore," you coo, sending a shiver off pleasure up my spine. "You get better and better at swallowing my cock every day."

Before I could process the praise, my mouth was stuffed again. This time, you slowly backed into the armchair, forcing me into all fours so I could crawl after you without releasing your cock. Soon, my back was perfectly arched with my ass hovering in the air. You stood up, then, and a harsh grip on my hair told to remain in position, save for the way my neck tilted back as you rose. Your cock was pressed into the back of my throat, and the only breaths I was allowed to inhale came with every minute retraction. My moans were uncontrollable, a rhythmic chorus mixed with the wet sounds of my mouth, interspersed with the occasional choking.

Soon, the sounds began to grow more and more muffled until you were doubled over on top of me, pressing me into your crotch. I felt your fingers probe at my pussy, sliding so slickly in between the lips. It was laughably easy how your two fingers slid into me. There was a brief moment of smugness I felt that came with your appreciative exhale, only for you to squash that with a firm slap on my ass with your free hand. You wasted no time in thrusting your fingers in and out of me, and with my body stretched so tautly, there was no way for me to fight against the assault. My moans echoed in the recesses of my mind, and when you violently ripped your fingers out of me, I felt a rush of fluid splatter onto the floor.

In a flash of movement that made my head spin, I opened my eyes to find my face inches from the floor, one of your arms supporting my upper body while one hand held firmly onto my hair.

"Lick it up."

The tone in your voice indicated there was no room for hesitation. My tongue lapped at the small puddle and even as that mess got cleaner, your fingers were already back inside of me, stirring my pussy into another frenzy.

"Now then," I hear you say, the unmistakable glee in your voice making my stomach twist nervously. "Let's see if you can do that again without making such a mess on my floors. Good little sluts do as they're told, and I didn't tell you to do that, did I?"