There was something different in His demeanor. And somehow, I missed it.

You almost have to be me to see it. No one else knows Him well enough to hear that slight animosity to His tone. See the deadness behind those beautiful russet irises. The way He seems to suddenly be taller. Bigger than life. All encompassing.

I think I missed it because He’s seemed bigger than life to me since the last time Satan’s Suitcase met my ass. As big as I am, I feel small in His presence. Though “little” describes it better.

He was quiet on the bus ride home. Well, after the shuttle, anyway. It’s almost impossible to be quiet on the shuttle.

As we turned down the campus road, He said, “Maybe I’ll send you to offer him a blow job.” I’m not sure if He meant the boy who had gotten off the bus before us or the kid at the corner store. We were talking about both of them.

I stopped short and looked up at Him. My cheeks flushed and I flashed Him an almost embarrassed smile.

“What? Aren’t you a pig whore?” And then it was blatantly obvious. Something was different. Dangerous.

Another embarrassed smile as three college chicks fell into step in front of us. “Yes.” Almost a whisper.

“Yes, what?”

I knew what He wanted me to say. But those adorable little college girls might hear me! Surely, I was mistaken. “Yes, Master.” A little louder than the last, but not much.

“Yes, you are what, cunt?”

“Yes, Master, I’m a pig whore.” Omigosh! Had they heard?

“You better not be a stuck up cunt, all of a sudden.”

“Yes, Master.”

The subject changed and the mood shifted. So when we got home and He walked over to me and grabbed my pussy, roughly pulling me to Him (“This is the best part of you.”), I was caught off guard. But that was the last time. When He said, “Get your ass over here and sit on the floor. You can be unoccupied by anyone but me for a while.” I was sort of expecting it. And when He told me to go find something for Him to beat me with, I wasn’t surprised at all.

I brought Him the crop. For some reason, I always think it won’t hurt that much. Every time, He proves me wrong. Last night, though, He had the aid of still frozen skin from the walk across campus.

In short, He cheated.

I backed out of His reach in the middle of the first series of blows He rained down on my backside. That was probably a mistake. He cornered me between the wall and the bird cage (For any PETA members reading, the birds were on top of the other cage, well away from us.) after that. And when I thought He was done, He ordered me to the floor and beat me there while He forced me to lick His leg with His fist in my hair.

I’m pretty sure I cried. He made me thank Him for hurting me.

Then He half dragged, half pushed me to the bedroom and tossed me on the bed. I just kind of sat there… stunned. Too stunned to really comprehend what was going on until He shoved me into this odd position where I was half on my side, half on my stomach and crammed His cock into my mostly dry cunt. But really, that was all it took. As He pulled my head back by my hair and yanked me up and down on His cock like some cheap blow-up doll, my pussy began to puddle beneath us.

There was laughter in His voice. A smile on His lips. He was mocking me while He whipped me with the crop. And I think I shed a tear or two then, too, as my head banged off the wall. I remember hoping He didn’t put me through it.

He made me lay on my back after a while. And He choked me while He fucked me. Harder and longer than He ever has. Usually, I can get in enough air that it doesn’t really bother me. This time, I couldn’t get in any.

He put His hand over my mouth. I tried to fight Him off. I saw it coming and met His eyes. I know He saw the fear in mine. The pleading. And He ignored it.

No. He delighted in it. I saw it in His eyes.

He put me in a sort of headlock so I couldn’t get my hands on His. And He just held His hand over my lips. Just my lips. That’s all it takes. When I couldn’t wrench free, I panicked. And I began to cry like a little girl whose had her feelings hurt for the first time. And I slowly started to give up.

Then He let go. But not for long. And the second time was worse than the first. Because I knew He could withstand my panic. I’d seen it. And that’s kind of a scary place to be.

I think the panic came faster then.

He told me to point where I wanted Him to cum. That was… unexpected, and I told Him instead. He slapped me. “I told you to point, dumb cunt.” So I pointed to my pussy. And He asked if I deserved it there.

Of course I don’t. How could I? I’m just a pig whore.

He pulled out of me and made for the door. And I begged Him to put His cock back in me.

He came with His hand around my throat. My ragged breaths and His husky grunts melded together. Our hips met again and again. “Don’t ever forget you’re owned, cunt.”

When He was finished, He was generous enough to whip me tits to cunt while I came.

He’ll probably say it’s not true, but I’m not sure He’s ever been as mean as He was last night. I know I haven’t captured it well. The monstrosity He became. The utter disregard He had for me. How unimportant I felt.

I’m not sure what’s worse. That I wasn’t ready for it, and it crushed me… or that I loved it anyway.

<3

pig whore