Just a Dirty Whore

As I pulled up to the house, I was surprised to see His car already in the driveway. Normally, I beat Him home by an hour or more. I parked my car and grabbed the groceries out of the backseat. I was curious about the reason He was home so early. And why He hadn’t told me about it in advance. I knew that if it were something serious, He would have contacted me. That really only left a surprise… but I didn’t know if it would be a pleasant surprise or an unpleasant one. And honestly, I didn’t know which one I would prefer.

I didn’t see Him as I entered the house, quickly I went to the kitchen to put the groceries away so I could prepare myself for Him. I folded up the last paper bag and put them away in the cupboard. Hurrying now, I returned to the living room and removed my clothes, folding them neatly and putting them on a side table. Finally feeling at home, I went to my favorite spot. In front of the big front window, there was a small rug and a low shelf with houseplants. The sun always came in at the perfect angle during the afternoon. Putting my back to the window, I gracefully lowered myself to my knees, my body naturally sliding into the well-known form of Nadu. I bowed my head, enjoying the silky slide of my hair over my naked shoulders as it fell forward, veiling my face.

Waiting for my Master, I tried to clear my mind and prepare myself for whatever He had in store for the night. I don’t know how long I waited, but by the time I hear His footsteps approaching I was serene and relaxed.

“Get up slave.”

Quickly, I rose to my feet, lifting my head but keeping my eyes downcast. Without being told I assumed the inspection position. I shivered with anticipation as He slowly walked around me. Lifting my breasts and cruelly pinching my tender nipples. Sliding his fingers between my already moist lips. Moving behind me, he spread my cheeks, making my face bloom red. When He was satisfied, He gave me a little swat on my ass. It brought a secret smile to my lips.

“Over the coffee table, now.”

I ran in small, dainty steps to the coffee table, my breasts bouncing with my movements. I at once dropped to my knees in front of the table, laying my torso across the top. I grabbed the far edge tightly with my hands. I heard him follow me after a few moments. Without warning, I felt the sharp sting of the flog on my ass. I jumped in surprise but held my position.

“What are you?

“I am your slave Master.”

Again, the flog came down, harder this time.

“Who do you belong to?”

“I belong to you Master.”

The flog sailed through the air a third time. I moaned quietly as the leather falls struck my reddening cheeks.

“Who owns your body?”

“You do Master.”

I clenched my body in anticipation of the next strike. It still took me by surprise. Again, a little moan escaped my lips. My cheeks began to throb as the blood pulsed under my skin.

“And what do I get to do with your body?”

“Anything you want, Master.”

“Good slave.”

Now the flog fell on my ass repeatedly, turning the pale skin into a red, throbbing confusion of stripes. I gripped the table so hard I could feel the edge digging into my palms. Each hit made me jump a little bit and a throaty groan escape my lips. After the final stroke, I let my body relax and took a few deep breaths, luxuriating in the warm glow spreading out from my ass. I could feel the sticky wetness between my legs, coating my thighs. He reached down and roughly slid his fingers into my cunt, making me gasp loudly.

As he fucked me forcefully with his fingers, he leaned down close to my ear. “Tonight, we are going out slave, I have already picked out an outfit for you. When you get ready make sure to wear some slutty red lipstick. You have 30 minutes.”

“Yes Master.”

When he pulled his fingers out of me, I quickly got up and dashed for the bathroom, noting the time. As fast as I could, I showered and shaved. Heading to the bedroom in my towel, I sat down at my vanity. I applied my makeup carefully, thick black eyeliner with a pronounced cat eye point, mascara, and a light smokey eye. I added blush to my cheeks and finished it off with my sluttiest red lipstick. As I started blow drying my hair to fluff out my dark curls, I glanced over at the bed. On the floor was a new pair of 6″ heels, bright red with a high platform and crisscrossed by a profusion of straps. On the bedspread was a tiny black skirt, flared and pleated. Laying next to it was a pair of black fishnet garter stockings that sparkled with tiny rhinestones. Above those, I could see a small black top and my red pushup bra with the slutty straps that confined my ample cleavage.

Once my hair was dry enough, I chose some sparkly earrings to match my sparkly fishnets. Approaching the clothes on the bed, I could feel my trepidation rise. The skirt was very short and there were no panties in sight. I had a suspicion what tonight was going to entail, and I knew that it would not be easy. Sitting on the edge of the bed, my stomach sour and full of butterflies, I quickly put on my outfit. Standing up, I looked at myself in the mirror. The shirt was low cut and the top edge of my bra peeked out from underneath. The skirt barely covered my ass. I looked like a whore. But good god, did I love my new heels!

Looking at the clock I felt a little swell of pride, it had only taken me 25 minutes to get ready. I went back to the living room where my Master waited. When I entered the room, He was sitting on the couch, His feet up on the coffee table. In His hand He held a small glass of scotch, I could hear the clink of the ice cubes as He raised it to his lips. Over the top of the glass His eyes took in my outfit and the obvious discomfort on my face.

“Endurance, now.”

Dropping my butt down to my heels, I spread my legs as wide as I could and placed my hands on the back of my neck. In this position my cunt was fully exposed to his view. I could feel it pulsing with arousal as my lips were spread wide open. I kept my eyes downcast as I felt my cheeks redden in shame. I heard the clink of his glass again. As I waited, I felt the tenderness of my ass from my beating. I felt the trickle of my juices lubricating the folds of my hungry cunt. I felt the burn in my calves and arms from holding position. In my mind, I focused on serving my Master, fixing an image of Him in my mind.

“You’re just a dirty whore, aren’t you?”

“Yes Master,” I whispered.

“Tonight, everyone is going to see what a cock hungry whore you are, aren’t they?”

“Yes Master,” I whispered again.

“Tell me.”

“I want to show everyone what a cock hungry whore I am, Master.” I could barely get the words out past the knot in my throat.

“Louder.”

“Tonight, I am going to show everyone what a dirty, cock hungry whore I am, Master.” I said the words loudly, my voice breaking as I finished.

“Good whore.”

—

My skirt was so short I could feel my cunt touching the leather seat in His car. I fidgeted in my seat, nervously awaiting our arrival at our destination. He drove in silence, adding to the uneasy atmosphere. He pulled off the small dark road, the crunch of gravel under our tires agitating me. He parked next to a small cement building. There were only a handful of other cars in the parking lot, and through the windshield I could see garish neon signs hanging in the small dingy windows of the squat building. Suddenly, the door opened spilling light and music out onto the gravel. An unkempt man in a baseball cap and a thick flannel jacket exited the bar, lighting a cigarette as the door swung shut behind him. I watched the glowing tip of his cigarette in the dark, certain I couldn’t possibly do this.

I looked over at my Master. He was watching me closely, evaluating my resolve. As I looked at Him, I realized I would do whatever he wanted. That was the only thing that mattered. Squaring my shoulders, I grabbed my little purse off the floor. Holding it with a death grip in my lap, I waited while He got out of the car. He came around to my door, opening it. As I stepped out, He grabbed my elbow, holding it tightly as he walked me around the car.

“Tits out whore,” he said quietly.

I thrust my chest out and held my head up proudly. I glanced at the man smoking as we walked past him, his mouth was hanging slightly open, the cigarette in his fingers forgotten. His eyes were trained on my cleavage, straining against the straps across my chest. When my Master opened the door to the bar, I balked, tugging slightly on my arm held firmly in my Master’s hand. He looked back at me, the question in His eyes. Swallowing my fear, I barely nodded my head and followed him inside.

Once inside my Master immediately turned to the right and steered me towards a booth in the corner. The scarred table was round, and the curved bench was covered in an old, cracked leather, with a low back rest. Releasing my arm, he sat down at the outside of the bench but didn’t scoot in. I quickly realized I was to get in from the other side and scoot all the way around until I was next to him. I could feel the stares of the other patrons as if they were lasers. I quickly sat down and tried to slide over as inconspicuously as possible. I could feel my tits jiggling and bouncing as I slid all the way around. I knew that every person in the bar was watching them. My cheeks felt like they were on fire, and I was so humiliated I could hardly breath. As soon as I got next to my Master, he pulled out his wallet and handed me cash.

“Get us some drinks why don’t you?”

I swallowed my annoyance, knowing he did it on purpose. I looked up at Him, glaring at the amused twinkle in his eyes. I took the money, and setting my purse on the table, slid all the way back out. I thought my face was going to spontaneously combust from the heat pouring out of it. Getting to my feet I took off towards the bar, not looking to either side of me. At the bar was a slumped old man, his hand on a mostly empty pint glass in front of him, his head on his other arm. The bartender watched me as I walked up to the bar, a lascivious grin on his face and his eyes glued on my tits.

“Wait!” I heard from behind me. I stopped and slowly turned around, wondering what my Master had forgotten. He lifted his hand and gave me a little twirl with His finger. I clenched my teeth and proceeded to twirl for Him in the middle of the bar. I felt my little skirt flare out, and I was certain that everyone had just seen the curve of my ass. By the satisfied look on my Master’s face that is just what he intended. He waved me on with his hand, and I turned around and went to the bar.

“What can I get you sugar?” the bartender asked me, his tone telling me exactly what he thought of me.

“A scotch on the rocks and a Jameson and soda with two limes please.”

“Sure thing.”

I waited nervously at the bar while the bartender prepared the drinks. I didn’t know how to stand, I didn’t know what to do with my hands. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me, except for the old man at the bar. Thankfully, he seemed like he was asleep. The bartender seemed to be taking forever making the drinks, giving me long looks as he did. Suddenly, the old man snorted and sat up, looking around blearily. When he saw me standing next to him, he did a double-take and his mouth fell open as he looked me up and down. He had a thick white stubble on his chin, and his lips were sunken in like he didn’t have many teeth left. He mumbled something as he looked at me. I couldn’t understand him, and I looked desperately at the bartender. Thankfully, he had just finished our drinks and was bringing them over to me. I handed him the cash, willing him to move faster. As the bartender made change, the old man leaned over to me, holding tightly to the bar.

“Are you a hooker?”

I heard him say, badly slurring his words. I glanced over at him, but I had no idea how to respond. Right then the bartender returned with my change. I quickly separated out his tip and crumpling the remaining bills in my hand, I carefully grabbed the drinks off the bar.

“Hey girlie! Are you a hooker?”

I just shook my head at him and hurriedly turned around to walk back to the booth where my Master waited. The bartender had overfilled my drink, I suspected it wasn’t an accident. I knew that my Master would be very displeased if I spilled a drop. I walked very slowly across the bar, careful watching the glass in my hand. Focusing on that task made me forget for a tiny moment of time that I was on display to every gaze in the bar, just a dirty, little whore exposing herself to a bunch of horny men.

Finally reaching the booth, I went to set my Master’s drink in front of him, holding my back straight as a rod. My Master looked at me and asked, “Is that the proper way to deliver a drink?” I knew exactly what He wanted. And at that moment, after my blissful break from my humiliation, I hated Him.

“No Master,” I replied through gritted teeth.

Slowly, I bent at the waist, carefully placing his glass in front of him. I could feel my ass being exposed as I leaned over, a slow unveiling of my charms for my admirers. I prayed that they couldn’t see my hungry cunt peeking between my thighs. Next, I deposited my glass next to my purse. Straightening up, I smoothed my skirt over my ass, trying to regain my composure. I hated that my humiliation at the hands of my Master was turning me on so much. I could feel my thighs sliding together in the juices leaking from my cunt as I walked around to the other side of the table. I wondered in my mind if I would leave a wet streak on the bench as I slid around to my Master’s side.

When I reached my drink, I took a grateful sip, carefully putting the straw between my painted lips. The drink was strong, and almost made me cough. Once I recovered, I drank half the glass in one long pull. Watching my Master laughed, “Getting drunk won’t save you, whore. I think you need a reminder about what you are. Get back up and go ask the bartender for some napkins. I had better see you acting like a good, little whore and showing off your assets or else you will be punished.”

“Yes Master,” I answered him, my head bowed, and my hands clenched in my lap. Steeling myself for my task, I took a few deep breaths, and then tugged my shirt down just a little bit more. I repeated a mantra in my mind, ‘I am a cock hungry whore who loves to show off my slutty body for the pleasure of men.’ When I raised my head, I locked eyes with the bartender, smiling his lewd grin from across the room. I maintained eye contact with him as I scooched my butt across the cracked leather once again. Standing up, I intentionally leaned over to give him a good view of my tits straining against my bra.

As I walked over to the bar, I swayed my hips just slightly. I looked around the bar, noticing a group of men at a high table on the far wall near the jukebox. When they noticed me looking, they raised their bottles and whistled their appreciation. For a moment I lost my motivation, and froze in response, my feet still moving unconsciously towards the bar. I recovered quickly and sent them an air kiss and a wink. Once I reached the bar, I boldly put one high heeled foot up on the rail, and leaned on the bar, squeezing my tits together for the bartender’s appreciative gaze.

“May I have some napkins please?” I asked, smiling and leaning forward. I knew that my ass cheeks were fully exposed, framed perfectly by the curve of the garters on my fishnets, making it clear to any onlooker that I wasn’t wearing any panties.

“Anything for you sugar. How is your night going?” the bartender asked me, not moving to get the napkins.

“I can’t complain, tonight is a very special night.”

“Sure looks like it!” he replied, laughing and glancing pointedly at my tits. Finally, he grabbed some napkins and handed them to me, holding them slightly beyond my grasp so I had to reach over to grab them. My cheeks flushed red, but I didn’t freeze this time and gave him a little wink as I playfully grabbed them out of his hand.

“Thank you,” I told him as I turned around to return to my Master. Walking across the bar, I swayed my hips and smiled broadly at my Master. I could tell from the look on his face that He was pleased, which gave me a warm glow. Momentarily, I forgot all the other people in the bar and saw only my Master, delighting in the knowledge that I had pleased Him. He lifted his hand and crooked His finger at me, calling me to His side. When I reached Him, He ran his hand up the back of my thigh, cupping my ass tightly and blatantly raising my skirt.

“What a good little whore you can be, with the right motivation. It feels good to be honest about who you are, doesn’t it?”

“Yes Master.”

“Good whore. Let’s play some pool,” he said with an evil little grin on His lips. He stood and grabbed our drinks, leaving me to grab my purse. I followed Him to the pool table, my mind already churning at the thought of bending over to shoot. I knew what was expected of me, I also knew that my pussy would be exposed when I bent over that far. And at that thought my juices started really flowing. I didn’t understand why humiliation got me so wet, but the evidence was clear that I was loving what was happening to me. As usual, I racked the balls, and he broke them with a clean, sharp crack of the cue ball against my colored triangular fortress.

As I bent over the edge of the pool table for my first shot, I was shaking. I felt like everyone could see the shine of my pussy covered in its own juices and knew how wet I was. They all knew what a dirty fucking whore I was. I could barely focus on my shot, and the cue ball went wide. Chuckling, my Master cleared three balls in a row. Again, my only reasonable shot was from the side of the table that faced the rest of the bar, I knew my Master was doing it intentionally. I was steadier this time and was able to sink a ball. Looking at my Master I gave him a little smirk. He just shook his head and sunk another ball. Thankfully this time, I was able to shoot from the far side of the table. I think that I missed the thrill and the humiliation of exposing myself to the hungry stares of the bar patrons.

The next time I shot, my Master used his pool cue to lift my skirt. I missed again. My Master was winning by a large margin, only having one more ball before he could shoot for the 8-ball. I knew I wasn’t going to win and began to hope for a quick finish to the game. I had finished my drink and was hoping I would be allowed to get another one to dull the humiliation of being displayed to a bunch of strangers. My clit was throbbing with need, and every time I bent over, I was reminded of how wet I was.

As I bent over the pool table, my Master gave me a gentle swat on my ass, making me jump and grab my cheeks as I whirled around to face him. He was clearly amused at my show of defiance, and grabbing His drink took a sip as He waved me to continue. He sunk the 8-ball on his next shot, to my tumbled emotions of relief and disappointment. We returned to our booth. As soon as I slid in next to him, he reached roughly between my legs with his hand, discovering just how wet I was. Growling, He grabbed me by the arm and practically pulled me out of the booth.

He quickly marched me to the bathroom, and pushing the door open shoved me in front of him. Before the door had even swung shut, He had pushed me down on the grimy counter, between the matching sinks. Gripping my hair tightly, He forcibly pressed my cheek into the cold tile. Kicking my legs out, I heard His belt buckle clatter as He undid his pants. I was moaning in anticipation of feeling His cock, my juices running down my thighs. I reached back to pull my tiny skirt up over my ass like a good whore. I felt His hand come down on my exposed ass cheek, and then He shoved His entire length into me in one thrust. I grunted as His hips slammed into me, shoving my thighs into the counter with such force that I was certain they would bruise.