The Older Man

Sir fucked her ass again as soon as she arrived, not talking to her before he pushed her face down and forced his dick into her ass. She already wanted to cry; not because the pain was especially bad, but because she was so turned on by the humiliating way he was treating her she couldn't stand it. Suppressing a desperate desire to beg for release as her pussy literally dripped onto the floor, she let out a mighty, pathetic howl of need. He laughed and spat at the back of her head.

The wad of phlegm missed her and landed on the ground by her face. "Lick it up, cunt," he grunted. "Thank you Sir," she replied, lapping up the sticky mess. He kept spitting at her, and she felt his saliva running down her back.

Soon she felt him coming inside her. She was a little surprised when he didn't move to pull out as his dick started to soften. Then, a few moments later, she felt something warm and wet; a trickle at first, but soon a thick stream. He was pissing inside her. She moaned with disgust and he laughed at her again. "Shut up, you dumb bitch. You're a fucking urinal, you understand? You're a hole for my dick and that makes you a toilet as well as a cum dump."

"Yes Sir," she said, miserably.

"Tell me you appreciate me treating you like you deserve." His voice had the cadence of a joke and his amusement at her distress was unmistakable. And he was still pissing; his bladder must have been really full.

She half choked down a flash of anger, but the emotion made her words come quick and loud. "Thank you for using my ass as your toilet, Sir. It's a privilege for me to be pissed in by you." She was trying to be sarcastic but it was hard to meaningfully express defiance when a man three times your age was pissing inside you.

"That's better," he said, finally finishing and pulling his dick out. Immediately she felt something else pressing at her ass and realised he was inserting a butt plug, sealing his piss inside her. She moaned again and her eyes teared. This was almost too much.

But quickly after that he pulled her upright by the hair and sank two fingers into her hungry pussy. The movement was so fast she was unprepared and her cunt needed the attention so badly that she could not maintain her resentment; her knees softened and she leaned into him, her eyes widening to look up at him while he pumped and curled his fingers inside her. Soon she was on the verge of coming and, barely able to form words, started to moan. He abruptly withdrew his fingers.

"Close, huh? Not till you learn how to suck dick, you know that."

But he was fingering her again already so she had no time to register anger at the insult. This tie he started kissing her too and she couldn't believe how good it all felt. Again he pulled his fingers away as she reached the edge. This time his hands went to her breasts, firmly but not roughly squeezing and stroking. Everything felt amazing. She'd been incredibly turned on almost all the time she spent with him, but this was the most direct sexual pleasure she'd felt there. It was so intense it was almost overwhelming. His fingers were inside him again and this time she cried out at how close to coming she was when he pulled away.

He pushed the fingers into her mouth, opening his fingers against the back of her throat to make her gag. She resisted the urge to flinch away and let him gag her, stroking his fingers with her tongue and tasting her own arousal. She closed her lips around the fingers and started to rock her head back and forth, gagging herself as she took him deep and caressing him with her lips and tongue as she let him out. She was trying to show him how well she could suck his cock and, for a moment, she was hopeful that he was seeing it.

He took his fingers from her mouth and pushed them, wet with her spit, back inside her cunt. She moaned and thrust her hips towards him. "You've been sucking all those dicks like I told you?" He didn't pause to let her reply, but she still said 'yes sir'. "Next weekend you can show me what you've learned. If I think you've improved, you can come."

"Thank you Sir!" she said with passionate intensity as, again, her pulled his fingers away just as she almost came. She was so overwhelmed with sensation she hadn't quite taken in the words and thought there may have been something he'd said that she missed. But she'd absorbed the key detail: she might come next week. The prospect of coming was so exciting that, for now, she didn't mind the seven days before a possible orgasm.

He edged her a few more times in the entryway, laughing at her growing desperation. Then, wiping his fingers off again in her hair, he said, "All right, I'm gonna sit down," and dragged her behind him to the lounge room.

He released his grip as he sat into his favourite chair and, with no specific instructions, she stood awkwardly, naked in front of him. She pulled her hands behind her back, partly so she could fidget without him seeing. The unspent arousal she'd built up across those edges still hung heavy over her, and her hips and knees swayed and gently buckled. And then the cramps started.

She was surprised by the sensation, sharp and deep in her stomach. She realised quickly that the pain was her body wanting to expel the piss and, almost as quickly, realised he had expected and intended this. He was amused by the visible pain on her face and in her body language.

"You like showing off your body, you dumb cunt? Dance for me. Show me you know how to be sexy."

Again she felt the unfairness of these words and the certainty that she was, in fact, a hot young woman, naked and vulnerable to a much older man who should consider himself lucky to even stand close to her. But that wasn't their relationship and so he treated her this way again and again, like it was her that was lucky to get to be with him, that she had to work to earn his attention. She started to move her hips, slowly at first, and then with more confidence. She knew she was a good dancer, that she could catch a guy's attention in the club by the way she moved. But it was harder here, and much more humiliating: dancing alone, naked, with no music, under his harsh scrutiny, and with the intermittent stabs of cramping pain from the piss enema.

"I'm gonna fuck your cunt," he said, "so you need to get my dick hard again. If you can't do it with your dancing, I'm gonna beat your slut hole until I'm hard enough to fuck you."

She groaned at this, both scared and turned on at the prospect, and her movements became less coordinated. He'd just come in her ass and, while she'd found him to be maybe surprisingly virile for his age, there was just no way he was going to get hard again without time to rest. She felt certain that he was going to spend that time beating her pussy, and that the dancing was just a way to humiliate her first. Nevertheless, she would try her best.

Unsure if she was allowed but figuring she might as well try, she climbed onto his lap, straddling his groin and grinding and rolling her body against him. She took his hands and pressed them to her skin, sliding them over her breasts and down towards her ass. Although there was clear lust in his expression, she could feel that his cock wasn't hardening under her, or not nearly enough to fuck her with. She felt a new wave of humiliation that she was doing this without even getting him hard, and then another wave of cramping hit and she gasped in pain.

She thought for a moment of Tom, her most recent ex. Things with Tom had, in some ways, led her to Sir, but the memory of his thick cock, and especially how quickly he'd be ready to go again after he came, flooded back intrusively. He had been a skilled lover and, although he took a dominant role, always focused on her pleasure as much or more than his own. The comparison with Sir, who had never made or even allowed her to come, could not be more striking. But she pushed the thoughts of Tom out of her head and tried to focus on the present.

Since it didn't seem like the dancing was going to work, she decided to get ahead of it. "Please torture my cunt until you're hard enough to fuck me, Sir," she said, and she thought she heard his breath catch a little with surprised arousal. "Please let me suffer for your pleasure."

He pushed her back so she stumbled to the floor and stood up over her, grabbing her hair and dragging her into the kitchen. In the time she'd spent her she'd only seen the entryway, loungeroom and bathroom, so it was a small surprise. "You want me to beat your cunt, cunt?" he asked. "Up on the table, on your back, legs spread." He was spanking her now, open hand slaps on her ass and upper thighs as she stepped up onto a chair and then the table itself. It was hard wood or plastic under the table cloth, she wasn't sure, uncomfortable to lie on. He dragged her by her thighs until they hung wide from the edge of the table, leaving her pussy perfectly placed for him to beat. He waited a few moments here to let her feel her vulnerability. Then the pain started.

He hit her cunt hard with his open hand, the first blow making her sit up wincing from her reclining position. He pushed her head back down with one hand as he continued hitting her pussy with the other, and while these slaps weren't as hard as the first they were steady and rapid, and she grasped and squirmed as she fought to keep her thighs open despite the pain. The hand that had pushed her head down moved to her chest and grabbed her left tit hard, pushing down to use her breast to hold her in place. "Ah! Fuck!" she screamed. "Thank you Sir!"

The beating continued for minutes, and soon she felt not only the impact of each blow but a persistent ache and heat between them. It stopped abruptly and he shoved the hand that had been beating her against her mouth. She could taste how wet she was and she opened her mouth to start licking him clean.

"What a disgusting slut, getting this wet with an ass full of my piss. I'm gonna keep beating your cunt until you cry, you understand that? And then I'm going to fuck your dirty swollen cunt."

She moaned, unable to distinguish pain, humiliation, fear and arousal. "Thank you Sir."

He pulled his hand away from his mouth and pulled his belt out of the loops around his waist. The pain of each blow was much worse now, the leather cracking hard and sharp against her already sore pussy. The worst were the blows that landed squarely on her clit--she couldn't help jerking against the hand that held her down with those--but even those that 'just' struck her labia or inner thighs were excruciating. He stepped so his body propped her right leg open and moved the hand that had been squeezing her breast to take an equally rough and painful grip on the other leg, holding her thighs apart so he could keep hitting her cunt. She stuffed a hand in her mouth to quiet her grunts and screams. And still, the enema cramps came in waves, making the beating harder to take as they intensified but granting little relief as they receded.

She tried not to thrash too much against the table because it just hurt more as she bounced on the uncushioned surface. But she couldn't help squirming and jerking as the barrage continued. She could feel that she was going to cry soon, her eyes watering.

Sir shifted his body for a moment to press his crotch against hers, and she felt a spark of hope as she released his cock was getting hard. That meant this ordeal was almost over. But he stepped back and continued the beating, showing no sign of slowing or stopping. Her watery eyes turned to tears and she cried uncontrollably as the pain in her cunt intensified.

Once she was crying hard he seemed satisfied and dropped the belt across her torso. She gasped for breath and tried to control herself but her pussy was still throbbing with pain and she knew he was about to penetrate her sore, swollen cunt. But he surprised her by stepping away from her and walking back up the hall, barely grunting "Don't move" over his shoulder.

When he came back she started sobbing hard again, because had brought back a cane. Canes were one of her least favourite toys, with a kind of pain she often found genuinely unpleasant and hard to take. From where she was, sore and exposed and on her back, the cane he was carrying looking enormous.

"Turn around," he said. "Put your head this way." She was confused and anxious but did as she was told, rotating so her pussy now pointed away from him. He grabbed her head and pulled until it was hanging off the edge of the table, a position she associated with deep throating. He didn't fuck her throat but did push his crotch against her face so she could feel his hard cock through the fabric of his pants and could only take short, slightly smothered breaths. He reached across the table and grabbed one of her ankles, lifting it toward him and tucking it under his armpit. This left her doubled over, face up, in a kind of front split position that left her pussy helplessly exposed.

He touched the cane to her cunt and she groaned. Not a hit, just starting to line it up. He swung the cane up and then brought it swishing down only to, again, barely touch her cunt with it. Each time she gasped and braced against the pain.

Finally he caned her cunt and, for a moment, she thought she could take it. But the pain arrived half a second after the impact, white-hot agony burning in her cunt and rippling through her whole body. She made an animal noise and thrashed and kicked against him, but nothing she could do would dislodge her foot from his armpit. Still she squeezed her thighs together, blocking any more cane strokes, with the dim awareness he was certainly not going to let her avoid more.

"Open your legs, bitch. Don't make me wait." It took a huge effort of will to separate her legs, and the second stroke landed as soon as she did. She screamed desperately against his crotch, only partially muted by his pants pressing into her mouth. She jerked her legs together again but, scared both of letting and of not letting him hit her again, quickly opened them. There was a pause and then another agonising blow.

There were 13 strokes altogether, each one unbearable by itself. Compounded together, she felt inhuman, her throat raw from screaming and her crying so intense that not just tears but ribbons of snot ran down her face.

After the 13th blow he dropped the cane, dragged her hips back towards him, and pulled his hard cock out of his pants. The head pressed against her red, swollen cunt lips for a moment before he slipped inside and she was so tender that even that pressure produced a sharp scream. He was fucking her harder than he had before, using the full weight of his body to make his groin hit her hard with each thrust, and she continued to sob and wail as he did. But as much as it hurt, the sensation of his cock inside her cunt after weeks without an orgasm also felt good, and if her arousal didn't make the pain any less it did make it easier to take. Soon she could rock back against him, hurting herself more but, she hoped, increasing his pleasure. The unbearable part was over and she was eager to submit to him again.

He grunted as he came inside her and she was relieved, because she had been getting irresistibly close to her own forbidden orgasm. But not getting to come, after so much pain and humiliation, was also unbearable, and her tears--which were slowing, but not stopped--now included the sadness of her own frustration and not just the agony of the beating.

Once he was done he took her into the bathroom and watched while she expelled the enema into the toilet. "Maybe next time I'll let you drink it," he said, and she flushed with panic at the thought.

"Next weekend I'm gonna let you suck my dick again, and if you do a good job, you can finish your training and start coming again."

"Thank you Sir!" She practically yelled it at her in her excitement and relief.

"But if you haven't improved we'll move onto a new training system, and I don't think you'd like that. It would really show you how good I've been to you so far."

She was still sitting on the toilet, naked, the last of his piss leaking from her ass, and she could not have imagined a more vulnerable position to hear him say this. "Yes Sir."

"And I want you here longer next time. These short visits are fine but I think a dumb bitch like you needs to spend longer in service to really improve. So you can come here after work Friday and expect to stay until late Sunday afternoon. Will that be a problem?"

"No Sir, that will be fine." A heady combination of fear and excitement swam through her at the prospect of a whole weekend of this, with him. "Thank you Sir."