Well, I accept that sometimes Master has to release pressure and therefore uses me. That’s my duty and I want to be helpful. It doesn’t matter if I’m aroused and ready or if I even want it as long as he wants it, it’s alright for me. I embrace the fact that I’m a fucktoy and a slut. Therefore I am trained and this is my purpose.
So yesterday when he came home from training, he came to me while I was ironing some clothes. He just bend me over the counter by grabbing me by the hair and forcing me down while removing my trousers with a forceful jerk. When it didn’t go as he wanted, he began hitting and yelling at me, until I had managed to get all clothes down. I was wood-hard until then. When he entered me, I was dry and it hurt, so he just used what was handy (liquid starch) to get me wet. I don’t mind using other lubes than actual lube, so doesn’t he. While he fucked me relentlessly, he grabbed my cocklette and deformed and twisted it while it was still hard. The pain was raw, but I could not escape. With his other hand he held me in place, grabbed and tore my hair and hit me.
You know, I really adore the fact that even if he’s ravenous and aroused, he can still control hisself and delay his orgasm. He just seemed to fuck me forever, biting and hitting me, brutalizing and holding me down like an animal, a stupid, brainless fucktoy. It’s not about lve and respect, it’s just about being a hole for him to release anger. In these moments, when I feel all his physical strength, I feel so aroused by being overpowered that I usually don’t manage to cum. It’s as if my irrelevant small dicklette doesn’t even see a sense in trying to cum, because my own pleasure is not required. It’s awesome and I love feeling impotent and useless.
When he was almost there, he dragged me to my knees and shot his load all over my face, then made my lick him clean. Then he just left. No thanks, no sorry, not even a single word. I knelt there with my heart pounding and with my ears numb by the sudden silence. I needed to pause for a moment, and when I got up, I realized the blood on me, on my clothes and the floor. I admit that at first I got frightened for a second, then I smiled and thought how nice it was to see that I can still bleed for him like I was a virgin. It didn’t even hurt. I pulled up my panty and the trousers again, removed the blood from the floor and finished my work there.
Later, when I was done, he sat in the livingroom. He had eaten something and looked relaxed. When he looked up, he saw the stains on my clothes, and he just said “don’t even think of sitting on my sofa”. So I just sat down at his feet, waiting to be used again. Today I feel beaten up and have some bruises. I love that. All his.