Free Bound - Volume 1 (A BDSM Erotic Short) by Sabrina Sexton Page A

I’m only doing it because Master commanded me.
    I cough, my gag reflex finally overpowering my will as the man thrusts all the way in, his cock pushing past the small opening of my throat and down, forever down. His pubes tickle my nose, the musky smell of him invading my senses. His cock swells in my mouth and I know he's about to come. I prepare myself to swallow it down. One, two thrusts and then he pulls away, squirting me in my face, hot sticky jets of it. I cry out at the thought of ropes of semen decorating my cheeks, my nose, my lips, knowing he will leave me this way, that another will enter this room and find me, looking so very, very cheap and trashy, used and ready to be used again.
    My pussy clenches and I cry, fat tears running down my face, mixing with the evidence of his pleasure. No doubt I look like exactly what I am. A cum slut. That’s what Master had called me. There was no menace in it, but it fills malicious now. The way this man fucked my face, the harshness, and the marking of me with the evidence of his orgasm. Evidence that I had done this unspeakable thing. It is purposeful, and I wonder if Master didn’t request it specifically, perhaps on his way out.
    “ Good girl,” the bartender says, stuffing his cock back in his pants. He turns and leaves without another word and I sob silently as I think of how I must look.
    I don't have long to wait. Another person comes in and I look down at the floor, unable to meet his eyes. I am so very, very humiliated to be labeled this way, marked this way, covered in the bartender’s cum. More tears run down my face, mixing with the thick globs of semen dripping from my jaw. I stifle my sobs and bear the weight of next man’s stare.
    “Rachael ?” a voice says and I groan.
    No. No. NO! I cannot be so unlucky, that someone who actually knows me would be the one to find me. This can't be happening. I cannot bear it. I close my eyes, hot tears leaking down my face. How dare he look at me? Recognize me?
    “Oh my god, it really IS you.”
    I don't recognize the voice, but I'm damned if I'm going to confirm it, not while I'm wearing this fucking sign, not while I'm covered in a stranger's cum, globs of it on my cheeks and even on my chest where it has dripped. Not while I'm so very, very low.
    I can't help but wonder who it is that is looking at me, possibly considering using me as I've just been used. Curiosity gets the better of me and I open my eyes. I recognize the guy, someone I've seen before, but not someone I know. I work with this man. I fucking work with him. Nothing could possibly be worse.
    How? How could Master do this to me? How am I ever going to walk the halls of my job again, knowing that this man saw me like this? My eyes are drawn to his pants, where a bulge grows. Fuck no... No please, please please. I don't want this. I don't want this man I work with to fuck my face. God, he will tell people.
    “ I heard that about you, that you were a freak,” he says, a lewd grin on his face.
    I hate him. I don't know him, but I fucking hate him. And still, my pussy, with a mind of its own, pulses. First the bartender, now him? What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I control myself? Why am I such a slut? How could I possibly be turned on by this situation, knowing how much I hate it?
    “Was this your idea?” he asks.
    I shake my head, my voice hiding though I cannot.
    “But it turns you on,” he says, a statement more than a question. He knows.
    Oh GOD! Master why, oh why? This is horrible. You can't have meant for this to happen. You can't have meant for me to be brought this low. You just can't.
    I'm helpless not to answer, my body answering for me as my pussy throbs again. I nod, biting my bottom lip to stop its trembling.
    “ That's fucking hot,” he says, unbuttoning his pants. “So god damn hot.”
    I open my mouth, obediently, waiting. He pulls his dick out. It's bigger than I thought, bigger than the last guy. He strokes it a few times, a