April’s Showers

He knew what I wanted. Standing in front of me, not even a foot of space separating us, he peered down the length of his nose, a dirty little smile narrowing his already deep-set eyes. The brilliant blue still showed through his thick black lashes despite the hooded darkness, and the taunting sparkle was plain for me to see.

I lowered myself back on my heels, taking the weight off my knees. I’d been kneeling there for so long. It moved me away from him, but that didn’t matter. He just took a step forward, making sure I could feel the heat coming from his body, smell the scent of need tinged sweat that cut through his clean aftershave like a knife.

The ropes that bound my thighs together burned as they tightened, so I pushed my ass against my calves, purposefully making it worse. I’d have some beautiful marks for us to look at tomorrow. Maybe if I rocked a little the friction burns would bleed and the marks would hang around for days…

A hard slap across my face sharpened my focus. I gave all of my attention to the one who demanded it. Drank him in, boldly staring at what he was doing. Sweat trickling down flexing biceps, tendons stretching and veins bulging in a juddering forearm, soft belly fur winding into damp curls as the muscles beneath the surface tensed and shifted.

Sticky wetness oozed from between my compressed pussy lips. It trickled down my thighs at first, but the longer I watched him the more there was, and it soon started to stream down the channel my bound legs made. The itch tried its best to distract me, but Sir did something that kept me captivated.

He adjusted his grip, leaning in to stroke the tip of his cock over my face. I didn’t dare open my mouth. All I could do was whimper, feeling him wiping streaks of precum over my cheeks. Then he hit me with it. A dull thud on my jaw, hard enough to make my teeth gnash. I looked up at him, forcing a silent plea into my gaze, but all he did was purse his lips and frown as if to say, poor baby.

“Spit on it!”

His words were gruff and deep, more like the growl of a bear than the speech of a man. It was too harsh a voice for such a handsome face, but it was a voice that wouldn’t be denied. So, gathering as much saliva from my lust dried mouth as I could, I spat. There wasn’t much there, so he spat too.

I waited for the fluid to drip off his cock and onto my chest, but he didn’t give it time. He stepped in closer still, tracing that throbbing purple head in a half circle from my brows to my chin.

“C,” he said.

Next, he dragged it in a circle, smearing saliva over my eyelids, down my cheek, tugging at my lips as he passed over them on his way back up.


Spit and stroke, a thrust so deep into my mouth I almost vomited, more spitting. He kept going, reading out each letter he drew on my face, until he tired of talking. Slapped nipples followed cruelly yanked hair that made my neck crack…

“Spell it out your fucking self,” he hissed.

I gasped, gargling the letter S as best as I could around the three fingers he jammed past my teeth.

After I ground out the letter K he stopped getting me to spit. He didn’t need me to. The more he wrote the more his cock leaked, and by the time I cried out a shrill ‘R’ I couldn’t open my eyes for all the liquid he’d spread over my face.

Would he really do it like this? He knew that all I wanted was to see it, all I wanted was to watch him fill my mouth with everything the slaps and chokes and name calling had been promising me. But if he did it now, I wouldn’t see. I couldn’t clear my eyes because my wrists were cuffed behind my back.

Finally, I sobbed, “E,” and lowered my head, a defeated thing. My throat was raw, my pussy ached, and the seed of desperation he’d planted in my chest when he’d told me he was going to give me – his good little girl – exactly what I craved was now in full bloom. And it hurt.

“Say it,” he whispered.

His lips were so close to mine I could have tasted them if I’d had the courage to. I didn’t. I just breathed him in, wondering if his eyes would be wide and hungry or if they’d be narrowed and cruel.

“Tell me what it is that you just let me write on your face with your own spit. Tell me what you are, April.”

“Cock sucking whore,” I sobbed. “I’m a cock sucking whore, Sir.”

Scraping at my eyelids with his fingertips, he laughed quietly. “No, you’re not a cock sucking whore. You’re my cock sucking whore. Look and see what doing this to you does to me, baby girl.”

When I opened my eyes his cock was right there. I stuck out my tongue, taking him in my mouth, sucking on him like the greedy girl he knew I was. When he fucked me like this he liked to come in my mouth, making me cough and gag until his cum came spilling out of my nose.

He liked it dirty. That’s why he liked me.

But he made me a promise, and when he ground out, “Here you go, you dirty little cunt,” I knew he would keep it.

A second after he pulled back I opened my eyes and my mouth as wide as they’d go, watching jets of white erupt from that swollen, angry red tip. I moaned, crying grateful tears as Sir grabbed my head and buried himself in my mouth. I loved the taste of him, loved knowing that what I was swallowing came from him.

He came so much! I didn’t think he would ever stop, hoped he wouldn’t ever stop. But he did, and with a final smack of his cock on my mouth, he pushed me over so he could start untying my bonds.

Once I was free, he picked me up and carried me to the bathroom. I flopped like a boned fish in his arms, resting my head on his shoulder to hide a self-satisfied smile. We both knew I was far from exhausted.

Running water drowned out our heavy breathing, and then I was beneath it. Fresh need raced through me as hot water pounded my skin, easing the aches in my shoulders and knees. Sir knew what I needed next. He lowered me to the rough plastic floor, whacked my ass and plunged his cock straight into me, being the wicked thing that fed me the cruelty I couldn’t live without.

We still had hours of fucking left to do, and I was ready for every minute of it, because I knew that no matter what we did, each part would end the same way; water, piss or cum raining down on me.  Ah, my wonderful Sir. He knows how much his April loves her showers.

Week #137

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