A filthy desire, vocalized.
All parts of this story can be found here.
“Complicit,” he said slowly. “I think I like that. Complicit in your own torment.”
I’m sure I stopped breathing.
“So, then. Go ahead and open your dirty mouth for me, and we’ll make it nice and clean again. Won’t we?” His smile widened to a wicked grin, as he reached into the sudsy water to pick up the bar of soap.
“Yes, Sir,” I replied shakily. “But… Sir?”
“Yes, baby?”
“What’s with the dish of water, anyway?”
He laughed. “Let’s just say, thank god for the Internet.” His eyes twinkled. “I did a bit of research while you were getting ready.”
Now it was my turn to smile. “Really?”
“Really. You kind of threw me for a loop there when you brought this up. But apparently a softer bar is a more…” he paused, searching for the right word. “Effective tool.”
I ground my jaw unconsciously and nodded.
“Now open for me, slut. Just like I know you want to.”
I spread my lips and jaw and watched as the bar of soap came closer to my mouth. His hand still held the back of my neck still, almost comfortingly.
I was altogether unprepared for the overwhelming taste of it, and the sick sliminess. He covered every inch of the inside of my mouth with a film of bitterness; the top of my tongue, the bottom, my cheeks, in between my teeth and tongue. I gagged as fresh tears poured down my face.
“Good girl,” he soothed. “You’re so pretty when you cry, baby. Keep your mouth open for me, now.”
I screwed my eyes shut. I regretted this, I regretted this so much. This was so awful, yet I still kept my mouth open for him.
He dipped the bar back in the water, and used both his hands to work up a dense lather.
Again, the bar went into my mouth, and the tiny bubbles flowed into every crevice. I could not escape the harsh, sour taste of it. It was everywhere.
My brain wouldn’t allow me to swallow the horrid stuff, so my soapy saliva pooled at the bottom of my mouth. I sobbed as it began to overflow, sending ropes of the repulsive goo running down my chin and onto my breasts.
“Fuck…” I heard him murmur huskily. I heard the soap drop back into the dish, and he wrapped his wet hands around my hips so I could feel his hardness pressing into me. “Goddamn.” His breath hissed as he drew it through his teeth, dropping his grip from me. “Okay,” he started, obviously trying to regain some semblance of control over himself. “Alright, we’re going to go one more time, okay? Then I’m going to rip apart that sweet ass right here.”
I cried, and tried to shake my head. I was a mess. One more time? I wasn’t sure if I could handle that.
“Open up, whore.”
My lips spread open, as if on their own accord. I felt like my mouth was betraying me, begging him for more punishment. More torment.
But isn’t that what I had asked for? Fuck. ‘Regret’ didn’t begin to cover what I felt.
This time, he scraped the bar over my teeth, embedding slivers of soap in the grooves. My eyes shot open, although I couldn’t see him through my tears. I bawled as he left shards of the soap in each quadrant of my mouth.
Never. Never would I ask for this again.
Maybe I really should have never brought this up. I promised myself, as he methodically worked the soap over every tooth, that I’d keep my goddamn mouth shut, from now on.
“Now bite down.” He held the bar between my front teeth.
Weeping, I closed my teeth around it. My stomach reeled as I felt them sink sickeningly into the soft material. I tried to save my tongue further misery by keeping as far back as I could, but the soap was brand new and it filled my mouth. It was inescapable. I hung my head as I cried, the sour glaze of soap coating my mouth and stands of sudsy drool dripping down onto the counter.
“No, slut,” he growled. “Look in the mirror. I want you to see yourself.”
I looked up through blurry eyes. The shape of my body, thin and waifish, and the trails of white-ish liquid oozing down my chest. The bar of soap stuck obscenely from my mouth, my lips white.
I looked… ridiculous.
I stared at myself, as I felt the burning embers of humiliation in the pit of my stomach. How could I have wanted this? I felt so utterly stupid, and I started to cry anew.
I felt him move behind me and put his big hands on my hips. He slid his cock between my pussy lips, and I moaned, in spite of myself.
“Christ, you’re wet.” His voice was low with need. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this excited.”
My teeth clenched without thinking, which only caused them to become further embedded in the bar. I sobbed in defeat, or maybe humiliation. Or maybe frustration. It was impossible to think with the overpowering taste of soap everywhere.
He slipped inside me with embarrassing ease, and I heard him swear softly, again.
The feeling of him filling me brought my thoughts of arousal screaming to the front of my mind. All those edges — I felt every one as I pushed back on him, feeling the delicious swirl of pleasure and frustration and pain as his hard body made contact with my beaten, stinging ass.
Despite the burning in my mouth and the humiliating fire in my torso, my orgasm built quickly as he pumped in and out of my pussy. I tried to breathe around the huge object in my mouth, but found that a full breath was hopeless. Every half-mouthful of air made the whole vile mess reassert itself. I groaned in frustration as I began to feel the effects of mild oxygen deprivation.
He pulled out, and I protested.
“Shh, now. I need this ass.”
He repositioned the head of his cock and pushed slowly into my asshole. I screamed, or tried, as I felt myself distend to accommodate him. Inch by inch he worked himself inside, until he was buried to the hilt. I felt so full, my ring burning from the intrusion.
“Does it hurt, darling?” he said softly.
I nodded.
“I’m going to be fast, don’t worry. Because your little ass is so tight. Just relax and take it for me, okay?”
I nodded again, trying to keep the bar between my teeth.
“Good girl.” He pulled out and slammed himself back in, making the ropes of saliva hanging from my mouth sway with the violence of his motion. I clenched my eyes shut. “You’re such a whore…” His voice trailed off as his hips crashed against my battered ass, setting a furious pace.
Everything hurt as he pistoned in and out of me: my mouth burned, my butt cheeks burned, my asshole burned.
His fingers dug into my hips, shooting streams of pain through my pelvis. My pelvis was sore from being smashed against the edge of the counter.
“Good slut…” he intoned hoarsely. “Take it for me, whore. Take my cock. I know it hurts, just take it.” His strokes somehow got harder, and I cried out around my clenched teeth. “Fuck, you’re my good little slut. Fuck, fuck…”
I looked down and saw that my knuckles were white from clenching.
“Fuck!” he yelled, burying himself fully. His cock spasmed as jets of cum coated my insides.
I wept as I relaxed, knowing it was over. I wept for every piece of me that hurt, for the overwhelming sense of regret for asking for all of this. As his cock slipped out of my wrecked asshole, I wept, too, for the orgasm that I so desperately needed.
I saw him brace himself on the counter, trying to catch his breath. “Christ,” he drawled, his breath coming in heavy panting. He reached to pull the soap out of my mouth, and I let it slip out, coating my lips with one final repulsive coat. He chuckled as I screwed up my face in disgust, still trying not to gag.
“You know,” he started, “since you’ve got all that nice soap in your mouth, it’d be a shame to waste it now.”
I looked at him, confused. All I wanted to do was spit this mess out.
“So why don’t you go ahead and clean my cock off, then?” He grinned at me.
I could only stare at him in disbelief. “Please…” No, I wanted to add. But my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth on the first word. I shook my head, feeling sick.
“I know you want to. Because you’re my disgusting little slut, aren’t you?” he replied, ignoring my physical protests.
He turned me around to face him, and I didn’t have the strength to fight him. I crumpled to my knees when he pushed down on my shoulders. His cock filled my vision, and even over the smell of the soap I could smell his cum and my ass. “Go on, then,” he pushed.
A fresh batch of tears filled my eyes as I took him in my mouth. His still-hard cock sloshed through the pool of soapy saliva that had collected, making it spill out over my lips. My bottom of my tongue burned, along with the corners of my mouth.
I heard him groan from above me. “Fuck, baby. That’s it. Clean my filthy cock off in your mouth. Open up for me, nasty whore.”
I looked up at him in a haze of submission. My pussy ached as he thrust his cock down my throat, pushing the revolting concoction into my stomach. I felt my body begin to protest.
“That’s it. All the way down. That’s it.”
I gagged and heaved around him, as new tears formed. My mouth, my body, had never felt so much violation. The taste of my own ass along with the horrid soapy film — my debasement was total. I couldn’t stop my empty cunt from clenching and I thought about the disgusting mess that was inside of me. I wanted it, and I needed this so much, and I was so grateful to him for giving it to me. He began to grow soft in my mouth, and I looked up at him with the most loving eyes I could make, through my tears. He was so good to me. My stomach pitched again, and I swirled my tongue around his cock, cleaning off the last noxious vestiges of our coupling.
So good to me.
He pulled out and ran his hand through my hair, tucking a piece of it behind my ear. “You’re such a good girl for me, do you know that, darling?”
I nodded. “Yes, Sir.” The words clung to my mouth, caught in the sticky, bitter coating.
“Would you like to rinse your mouth out, now?”
Yes, I thought. No. Probably should. But I didn’t want to.
Fuck.
I felt my eyes slowly drop to the floor. My body hummed with abasement, submission, docility. I loved when he hurt me. My pussy ached.
I heard him chuckle, deep, but tired. “Or are you still feeling needy, slut?”
I nodded again, as a string of whitish drool dropped from the corner of my mouth. “Please, Sir. Please let me… cum.”
He ran his fingers over my cheek. “Let you cum?” His voice was soft and condescending. “But I love the filthy things you suggest when you’re denied. I feel like…” he looked as if he were considering the rest of his sentence. “I feel like the true slut inside you starts to slip out, the longer we keep you horny. Don’t you think?”
My pussy ached and clenched, as my mind played back scenes from what we had just done. He was right, of course. “… Yes, Sir,” I replied quietly. My mouth felt gummy.
“How else would I have ever known that my little slut would have liked to have her dirty mouth soaped?”
My face burned.
“Would you have ever told me that, if we didn’t keep your little pussy nice and desperate and needy?” I could hear the evil grin on his face.
“No, Sir.” My voice was barely a whisper.
He stood me up. “Now look at me, my dirty little whore.”
I met his eyes.
“You’re going to rinse out your mouth. Once. Then you’re going back to the corner to think about what you’ve done. You may edge that needy little cunt, but do not cum.” He took a small glass and filled it from the sink. “I’m going back to work, now. Let’s see what other nasty things we can wring from your mind.”
“Yes, Sir,” I answered automatically.
He kissed my forehead. “Good girl.”
Photo by Roksolana Zasiadko on Unsplash