The Older Man

She woke the next morning on the floor beside his bed. Her sleep had been bad; uncomfortable, slightly cold, and she had learnt that Sir snored on and off, loud enough to wake her repeatedly. She hated knowing that she was going to be tired through what promised to be a long, difficult day, but she was somehow still incredibly turned on at his making her sleep on the floor. He had slept through the night on a nice mattress, wrapped in blankets; she had rested fitfully on a thin carpet over hard floorboards. It was so completely unfair, and she seemed to eroticise his unfairness more each time she saw him.

His instructions for the morning had been clear and her pussy clenched as she got up to obey. With Sir still asleep, not hurting her more or increasing her humiliation, she experienced an odd delight at where she was. Because wasn't this what she had always fantasised about? She was the obedient, helpless, naked servant of a cruel master. All the time in chatrooms and leather bars, the play with cuffs and paddles and rules that had produced so much good sex but never quite touched her innermost desires, it had all led here, to something perversely deeper and more satisfying because his treatment of her was shallower and less interested in her pleasure. She thought about the orgasm she wanted to badly; it felt powerfully correct that she shouldn't have it unless Sir wanted her to.

She put the kettle on to boil and shifted from foot to foot on the cold linoleum.He owns my holes, she thought happily.I'm nothing but holes for him to use. The hard humiliation of the previous evening had faded into a kind of contentment. Two more strangers would use her mouth today, or maybe tomorrow. One of them was going to be especially mean about it, and Sir was going to beat her tits before then. And before that, she was going to make his morning coffee.

He drank it instant, which she disliked; she wished this small act of service could be a little more compex or demanding. But this was what she wanted. She poured the boiling water into the cup and stirred until the coffee dissolved, then added sugar and milk to his directions. The cup was full near to the brim and she was careful as she carried it back to his bedroom. She set it gently on his dresser and, per his instructions, pulled the blanket away from his sleeping body. For the first time, she climbed into his bed.

Setting at the base of the bed, she very carefully and gently lowered his boxers and put his soft penis in her mouth. He stirred a little but did not wake. This was what he'd told her to do: hold his dick in her mouth and wait for him to wake up. It quickly became tedious and she had to fight the urge to suck, because she didn't want to disturb him. Her neck started to cramp from the awkward position she had hold herself in. She thought about how although she'd often seen his dick, she'd still never seen him naked (he slept in a long tshirt as well as the boxers), whereas he'd barely ever seen her with clothes on.

Slowly, his dick started to harden in her mouth, and her own arousal grew. His instructions had been clear, though, that she wasn't to wake him with a blowjob, just hold his dick in her mouth until he was ready to use her. Even after the last few weeks, she loved sucking cock, and it was a delicate kind of torture to feel his cock grow hard in her mouth and not give in to her impulse to start sucking. But finally, before she's even noticed he'd woken, he grunted the word "Suck" at her.

Even as she said it and she felt relief that she could stop worrying she would wake him, he was dragging himself away from her, up into a seated position. She scurried up the bed after him, desperate to get his cock back in her mouth before he imposed some kind of penalty. But after a moment she was sucking his dick in earnest, gagging desperately on it while he sipped his coffee and checked his mobile phone. She hated being ignored like this, the way he treated her sexual services like a banal entitlement (or worse), but it also turned her on.I'm just a hole, she thought.Why would he pay attention to me? I'm just an object. Her cunt clenched hard at these thoughts and she wished, again, for the orgasm she so desperately needed.

When he was ready to finish he said, "Don't swallow," and she adjusted his dick so he would shoot his load into her mouth rather than her throat. His thick, salty load filled her mouth.

"Have you had coffee yet?" he asked, and she shook her head.

"You want one?" She nodded.

"You can go make yourself one, and another one for me. Spit the cum into yours before you drink it."

Without separating her lips she made a noise he could recognise as Thank you, Sir, and climbed out of bed. The real irony to this instruction was that, although certainly it was a little humiliating and she was enough of a caffeine addict that she couldn't possibly get through the morning without a coffee, she'd much rather swallow cum thaninstant coffee, which repelled her almost to the point of using her safe word. But she did as instructed and brought back both coffees, sitting hers on the floor and handing Sir his deferentially. He gestured for her to kneel and she did.

"You can drink," he said, and she picked up her coffee and watched the ropes of cum and saliva swirl through the hot liquid. She blew on it a couple of times and swallowed a mouthful. The coffee itself was as bad as she'd expected, somehow both bitter and bland, and his semen did nothing to improve the taste or texture. Her forehead crinkled at it.

"You don't have to drink it," he said, "you can pour it out if you'd prefer." She gave this genuine consideration but she knew she needed the caffeine for whatever else he might have in mind.

"Thank you Sir, I'll drink it."

"Fine. I have some friends coming over this morning, and I'd like some food to offer them. Biscuits, cupcakes, something like that. Can you bake?"

"Yes Sir." She loved food and cooking and was excited to get a chance to show off her baking for Sir and his friends. "Any dietary requirements I should know about?"

"No, just make it good. Go and have a look at what I have in the kitchen, and if you need anything else make a shopping list. You can make us breakfast while you're there. I'll have bacon, fried eggs just a little runny, toast cut into soldiers. Understand?"

"Yes Sir." She was conscious that he'd said he'd have those things, not that they would.

"Since you don't seem to like the coffee, I'm also going to train you to appreciate what I give you more. Before you start on my breakfast, make yourself some oatmeal, enough for three servings. Use water, nothing else added. Once you've made it, put it in three bowls and put two in the fridge for later. Let the last one sit and cool while you make my breakfast. Understand?"

"Yes Sir," she said, unable to help pouting a little. The prospect of eating nothing but flavourless cold oatmeal--gruel, really--was deeply unpleasant. And the strong smell of bacon would only make it worse.

"Before you go, I need to piss," he said, and gestured at his groin. She understood his meaning and crawled to the edge of the bed, closing her mouth around his soft penis. His piss tasted worse than the last time she'd had it, stronger and with an unpleasant aftertaste she couldn't identify. She gulped it down hard, struggling not to spill any. She swallowed it all but taking in so much foul-tasting fluid so quickly left her nauseous.

"You're a much better piss drinker than you are a cocksucker. Maybe that's what I'll use you for. If Mikey and Alex don't like your blowjobs, I'll demote you to pisshole for a while."

She hated this thought, and the reminder that Mikey was coming. "Thank you Sir."

She went to make breakfast. She pouted more as she poured the oats and water into the pot and brought it to the boil. She could see that if the kitchen wasn't especially well stocked, there were plenty of things that would have made the porridge more palatable, and it made her heart sink to deliberately not add them.

As the oats cooked she got the eggs and bacon ready to cook and placed the bread in the toaster. Then she scooped the oats into three bowls as directed, and put the eggs in one pan and the bacon in the other. As she prepared his breakfast she looked sadly back and forth between her own meal cooling on the counter, and the eggs and bacon looking so delicious over the stove. Soon everything was ready and she took both their meals back to his bedroom. She handed him his plate and knelt down on the floor with her bowl, waiting him for his signal before she ate.

"I didn't tell you you could have a spoon," he said. She looked down at her meal for a second, puzzled, and realised he meant she'd have to eat it straight out of the bowl with her mouth, like a dog. Of course. She crawled back a few paces to make room and sadly lowered her face into the food. Her hair dropped down into the porridge and she took a mouthful. She slowly chewed the thick, flavourless, lukewarm food. Sir was scooping up runny yolk and chunks of bacon onto buttery toast.

He let out a satisfied sound when he finished his meal. She was still slowly working through the bowl in front of her. "Next time I let you swallow my cum, you can show some appreciation, or there are a lot more bowls of cold oatmeal in your future."

She was so unhappy she couldn't help reacting sharply. "It wasn't the cum! It was the..." She realised how ridiculous she was being and stopped.

"It was what?"

"Sir, it... it was the coffee. The instant coffee." She started laughing, at herself and the ridiculous situation. Sir laughed too, and then they were laughing together: the first moment of real human connection between them after all the fucking and pain and degradation. It felt good.

When they had composed themselves, he said, "Well, it's good to know that's another incentive I can use. Think about what you can do to earn better coffee."

"Thank you Sir."

"Now finish up your oats. I want to bruise your tits before my friends get here."

She pushed her face back into her bowl. She hated the oats, they were disgusting, but she had remembered how much she wanted to submit like this, to be forced to do things she hated. These were the moments that made what they were doing real, not just play. Her pussy was wet at being forced to eat the slop, and she thought again about how badly she needed to come and how much she hoped she would get to today.