The day was hectic and I was a very happy woman when I finally pulled into my driveway and knew I was home for the night. I was looking forward to a quiet evening curled up at Master's feet. I walked in the door and tossed my coat and purse on the hall table, I was just about to kick off my shoes when I heard Master's voice.
"Slave, I need you in here." He was calling from the dining room.
I entered the dining room and saw him push his newspaper and our mail to the floor. I knew immediately what was coming. Still dressed in my work clothes I walked to the end of the table and bent over. Master raised my gray tailored skirt until it was scrunched up around my waist, he pushed my feet wider apart with his foot and with his hips he shoved my pelvis snugly against the table.
Master's hand reached into my snatch and I felt his fingers grope the inside of my cunt then slide quickly up the back and into my ass. Roughly, he shoved his finger in my ass if he was poking a hole in some slightly resistant but pliant material and then his cock was filling me. The pain of his cock being thrust into my ass prompted a scream from me to which the reply shut up cunt, was what I received.
I immediately understood what was happening here. I had toys, vibrators, eggs, plugs and such when I need to satisfy my sexual thirst. Master had me. I was his toy and I was being put to use. The thought made me hot, but the pain of the forced intercourse interfered with the enjoyment I usually received from a back door entry. Master pounded himself into me with little care as to what the results of his actions were doing to my body. My hips were bashing against the edge of the table even as I held the sides in a white knuckled grip. My moans were of pain, not arousal. Not that it mattered what I was feeling, this was Master's moment, not mine. He was rough, he was cruel, and strings of degrading words flew out of his mouth.
The intensity of his assault was finally breaking through my pain. My ass had relaxed and I was beginning to enjoy the piston pumping in and out of me. The words cunt and whore sent chills down my spine and I could feel my cunt begin to twitch to the first signs I might be heading towards orgasm.
"Please Sir, may I come?" I began to whisper, the quiet mantra of a slave being used. The words were whispered over and over to the brutal rhythm of his stroking.
"Shut up whore, I'm not here for your pleasure, you're here for mine." He snarled through his teeth and pushed himself harder against me.
The table cut into my thighs, his cock stretched my anus, his hands grabbed at my skin. I cried out again. Frustration took over me as I pushed the thoughts of my climax away. My body shook to his rhythm, my mind reverted back to thoughts of being his vessel. I clenched my muscles, holding tightly to his cock. He was near, that I could tell from the speed and strength of his ever powerful stroke. I was his pleasure. I his was toy. I was his personal whore slut.
His finale came with frenzy of profanity as his cock hammered inside me. Then there no sound but rasping breath as he collapsed on top of me. Master preferred stillness after a climax and I didn't dare move. I laid upon the table, still and quiet, listening to his breathing slowly return to normal. Recovered, he withdrew from me and gave me loud slap on the ass.
"Good girl. I'll be out for about an hour, supper should be ready by then huh?"
He was gone before I could answer. I stayed on the table recovering from his usage. I was happy. I was useful to him, I sated him, I fulfilled my job. I reached down, feeling the crease that had been bored into my thighs from the table. I smiled as I thought of the bruise that would grow there tonight. I loved carrying his mark.
