Tick…Tick…Tick…

TICK...TICK...TICK...

Five hours. I’d been sitting on the floor for five hours. The incessant tick…tick…tick of the clock was loud in the bare walled room, slowly driving me insane, reminding me of how long I’d been made to wait.

I shifted, and the chains around my ankles clinked, chaffing like crazy. They were cold, and I was cold. The puddle I was sitting in was cold, too. It splashed my legs when I moved, and I ended up with my hand in it when I tried to redistribute my weight and slipped on the tiled floor. So, so cold, and it stank.

I eyed the shower in the corner of the room. With any luck I’d be behind that glass door soon, under jets of piping hot water. The stench of piss would leave me, and warmth would seep back into my bones again. Hands on my skin, fingers kneading my scalp, a cock slamming into me…

My bonds clattered when I yanked them in temper.

No, it wasn’t temper. Not really. I pouted, pretending that I was struggling, but I wasn’t. What I was doing was trying to get another look at the low table that was situated opposite the bed whose legs I was chained to. It, like the drain in the floor, had been placed out of my reach.

It was hard to make out what lay on top of it in the dimly lit room, but I thought I could see the shape of what could be an anal hook. I couldn’t really be sure, but the thought of it, the thought of a big fat metal ball being jammed into my ass, the end of it being attached to the back of my collar so every time my Master made me nod I fucked myself…

Somewhere, mixed in with all the piss I’d let go of in the last five hours, was a bucket’s worth of pussy fluid. The butt plug he’d slipped inside me felt like a ton weight, and so did the metal balls he’d rubbed precum on before using one long finger to push them inside me.

Tick…tick…tick…

I lowered my head, feeling saliva squish in the folds of my neck. My jaw ached, having been wedged open with an o-ring gag about an hour and a half ago. I’d drooled all over myself. It was in my hair, between my tits, drying my pubic hair into clumps.

And my poor tits were so abused. Every fifteen minutes the door opened, and Master walked in. I hadn’t seen him in the last five hours, though, because I’d been told to close my eyes as every time I heard the key in the lock.

But he’d walked slowly across the room, four times an hour, and he’d knelt in front of me. He’d clamped my nipples, fifteen minutes on and fifteen off, even playing with them a little last time. He’d twisted them until I started to cry, and called me a scruffy whore for sitting in my own filth. I’d screeched when he slapped my face and told me grimy bitches didn’t get treats like cocks in their cunts. They got fucked ass to mouth, and only came when they were told to do so no matter how much they wanted to let go.

I closed my eyes, even though I hadn’t heard the key yet. The memory of him rubbing his cock over my closed eyelids, of him shoving his fingers down my throat until I gagged and choked…I moaned quietly. The only other time he’d spoken was when he’d whispered, right by my ear, that even though I was a dirty cock sucking slut, mascara tracks made me look so very pretty.

My pussy throbbed in time with my heart beat.

I imagined I heard footsteps in the hall, but nobody came. My eyes flicked open and I looked up at the red light in the corner of the room. Master was watching me. He’d been sat up there with his parents and his grandparents, watching me in secret on his phone while they ate their dinner and drank their wine.

I wondered how hard it made him, knowing that I was rotten and stinking in my own mess while he was sipping from a crystal glass and talking about golf with his gramps. Was he thinking about me as he bragged about getting a hole in one? Did his cock twitch every time he remembered the day I carried his lucky golf ball to a game in my pussy? I hoped he leaked when he closed his eyes and remembered me squeezing it out into his waiting mouth.

Tick…tick…tick…

Every thought I imagined him having made me crave him more. This time when I looked at the clock, I whimpered. I struggled onto my back, opened my legs as wide as they would go and stared right at the camera. Rocking my hips, moving my shoulders so that the weighted clamps on my nipples made my tits sway.

Could he see the way my grasping vagina made the base of the butt plug twitch? Did the pretty little gem catch enough of the dull light to twinkle?

Oh God, if he would just come and fuck me!

Pussy to mouth, ass to mouth, ass to pussy. Whatever he wanted, I wanted. I wanted him to show me who was in charge, I wanted him to show me exactly what happened to dirty little girls who lived to please the ones who owned them.

I’d be so good. My body would absorb his strikes, my holes would yield to his cock. I’d fuck and be fucked until I wrung every drop of pleasure out of him and he sapped every ounce of energy out of me. I’d be completely his and he would adore me for it.

The light on the camera in the corner stopped blinking, and the clock fell silent. I heard a scratching, and the turning of a big key in a heavy lock. Eyes closed, I held my breath, feeling my pulse quicken when the door was locked again from the inside. I heard a soft shushing noise and the snap of a belt. The waiting was over…it was time to play.

Wicked Wednesday
Prompt #241 – Anticipation

6 thoughts on “Tick…Tick…Tick…

    1. I’m pleased to hear you liked it 😊 My Fella is a gentle soul, but I do love it when his cruel side comes out. He’s never been *that* cruel before, though there is time for it to happen.

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