There’s a special intensity about hearing you beg for the things you find so nasty yet need on some primal level. Making you beg to guzzle your own cum, make you beg me to piss on your face or suck a real dick. I might make you beg me today to lick the cum off my boots, off my high heels.
Good morning my corporate slut,
Sometimes I wake up and just want to treat you like a whore.
There’s really nothing else to it; there’s no long, complicated reasoning, no big psychological explanation. It isn’t related to anything going on in my life or anything stress-related – I just simply want to use you like a whore.
Do you feel objectified, sitting there, knowing that I think these kinds of nasty thoughts about you, or do you feel somewhat flattered, knowing that the lust I have for you is so great that it drives me to want to make you into a sex toy for my amusement?
Or do you feel a little frightened, wondering where it will all go, how intense it will be this time, and will I even want to stop?
When I arrive at your office at noon to meet you for “lunch” and I have my large leather bag over my shoulder, do you start to shake instinctively, your ass twitching, your cock straining against the metal cage, knowing that ultimately you are about to be fucked and violated – for an entire hour – while I may not even say one word to you?
Or maybe the few words will be simple. Direct. Cruel.
“Suck it harder, bitch.”
“Open your hole for me, open your pussy, cunt.”
“Take it like a whore, open wider, you can do better than that.”
“Lick my asshole, you little bitch. That’s all you’re going to get!”
“Eat that cum – swirl it in your mouth – let me see – what a whore!”
The ideas are endless. I think about how I want to use you, I think about you on all fours with your ass propped up high, ready, making you spread your cheeks with your own hands and beg me for violation. I think about making you lube up your own tight little “pussy” with your fingers while I sit back and laugh at you, buckling my strap on harness tightly around my hips, walking around to see you degrade yourself further, just taking my time before I decide to shove my big cock into your tight ass.
Sometimes I just enjoy looking at you when you are like this, lingering in the moment. There’s something so hot about you ready to be violated – willing, open, horny, desperate. I might make you beg for it – make you beg for the things that you dread, make you beg for the things that are painful and humiliating.
There’s a special intensity about hearing you beg for the things you find so nasty yet need on some primal level. Making you beg to guzzle your own cum, make you beg me to piss on your face or suck a real dick. I might make you beg me today to lick the cum off my boots, off my high heels.
I might make you beg me to turn you into a cocksucking whore for money, but I think you would like that a little too much.
What I do know is this. When I arrive today, you are going to be a whore for me. When I close your office door and lock it, you are going to get down on all fours, still in your suit, and wait for a command. Your eyes will be down and you’ll look at the floor until I walk over – and then, you’ll kiss my feet until I tell you to stop.
While you’re doing this, I’m going to unpack my bag on your desk, placing my dildos, vibrators, plugs, clamps and restraints on top of your precious work documents. Placing my bottle of lube next to your coffee cup.
This little ritual of mine will be all I need to push me to the next level. Considering I get wet just writing about it, imagine how turned on I am going to be when I finish unpacking my toys. My panties will be moist as I consider the options in front of me. I’ll be pleasuring myself, taking my time, surveying my inventory and knowing that you are mine to use for the next hour. The possibilities excite me. I know that I can turn you into a whore; where would I even start? With pain, humiliation?
Or maybe I will just shove a large cock gag into your mouth, make you pull down your trousers and panties, and violate you with my fingers first, then a large, hand-held dildo – so large that you feel like you are going to be split in half.
It doesn’t really matter, though, does it? What matters is that I want to possess you, and we both know how I accomplish this best. To scratch the little “itch” I am having, I’m going to need to fuck you until you beg for mercy. Strapping on my largest cock (one you have not even seen yet), lubing it up while you watch with big, terrified eyes, then turning you around and slowly working it into your very tight hole…yes, this is what I need. Your whimpers will turn to cute little squeals through the gag, and the steady motion of my cock sliding in and out of your ass will excite me more.
I won’t even need to use the little mini vibe with my strap on to cum; I think I’ll easily climax just from the sensation of fucking your ass, the steady pounding, the jiggling of your ass cheeks as I pump into you. And when your ass gets nice and slick, I’ll make you do all the work, backing up onto my cock as I laugh and slap your ass cheeks, reminding you once again that you’ve totally become a whore for me.
And all the while, your sad little cock will strain inside the metal cage, unable to get out, unable to get fully hard. Your balls, full of cum, aching, throbbing, will not get any relief. Maybe I’ll knee you in the nuts once for good measure – just to remind you that pain is only an instant away – just to make sure your balls are good and sore when you come home tonight for your evening milking.
I do love our afternoon get-togethers. Don’t you?
See you soon, my whore.
Affectionately,
Mistress Akasha
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