The Things I Do

Friday evening, I’m sitting at my dresser applying the finishing touches of my mascara. It’s been a long week, Friday just didn’t come quick enough. I’m really looking forward to tonight – I have been all week. I came home from work, had a nice long bath and a glass of wine before I started to get ready. I slip my clothes and shoes on, fix my hair and I’m ready to go. Normally when we go out you’d pick me up, but you’re working later tonight so I’m meeting you there. A gorgeous little French restaurant we went to once before.

I walk through the hall and into the kitchen to call a cab, just as I pick up the phone I notice the time. 7.45. I’m late, I was supposed to meet you at 7.30. No matter, I‘m always late for everything, you know that. I call a cab and get my coat.

The taxi turns up, as I step in I send you a text to let you know I’m on my way – ‘Sorry I’m running late, lost track of time. Be there soon. X’

We try and weave through the busy traffic, but it’s horrendous. Typical, I should have known. I finally arrive at the bar of the restaurant. I’m really late. I briskly walk through the door and see you sitting talking to one of the girls behind the bar.

“Hi. Sorry I’m late. Traffic was a nightmare” I say as I kiss you on the cheek and sit down beside you.

You turn your head and look at me. You smile “Well, you’re here now sweetheart.”

Relief courses through me, glad you aren’t angry with me. Before I can say something you interrupt.

“Although they’ve given away our table, we‘ll need to wait another half an hour”

“Oh. Well, that’s okay. Shall we just have something to drink while we wait?”

Nodding, you turn to the pretty girl behind the bar again and order us some drinks.

When she brings the drinks over, she smiles at me briefly then returns her attention to you. I’m not quite sure what’s happening but over the course of the next 30 minutes you barely speak to me, barely even acknowledge I’m there. The girl and you are laughing at smiling, her name is Sophié. She’s French of course. She’s studying for a law degree. I think those were the only words you said to me while we were waiting. The rest of the time you spent speaking to her… asking her about her job, her hobbies. You ask why an intelligent, pretty girl like her doesn’t have a boyfriend.

I’m shocked. You’re flirting with her, right in front of me. I sip my wine, livid. Bastard.

Finally Sophié lets us know our table is ready. I stand up ready to walk through to the restaurant, as I pick up my handbag I see her slipping something into your hand. A piece of paper. Her phone number? What the fuck is going on?

I walk through to the restaurant where our table is ready. The waiter brings us the wine list and some menus. You order for us both, like you normally do.

I’m still angry, but I’m trying so hard not to say anything. The last thing I want is an argument, we never argue.

You talk about your day and we drink some wine. After a glass of wine I feel tipsy, the food still hasn’t arrived.

Before I know, before I can stop myself, it I’ve blurted it out. “You were flirting with that girl earlier.”

You sit back in your chair and take a drink from your wine glass before answering coolly “I think you’re mistaken darling”

I feel myself brimming with anger at your response “No. I’m not, and you know it”

The look on your face isn’t of amusement. You look annoyed. Just as I start to regret my words the waiter brings over our food.

“Listen. I…” I start

“Stop it. Eat. Your food will get cold” you say briskly

I wish I had never said anything. Slowly I pick up my knife and fork and start to eat, but I’m not even hungry now. I opt to finish off the wine instead. Just as I go to put the glass down on the table, I accidently spill some wine on my new dress.

“Shit” I murmur, picking up the napkin to try and dab at my dress.

Well, at least my dress is black, I think. I look up and you are staring at me.

“What?” I say softly. You don’t answer, you just raise your eyebrows at me and give me a strange look.

Oh. I swore. I’m not supposed to.

You don’t mention it, and as we finish dinner things are just like normal. The rest of the evening goes well and we end up having a few more drinks at a nearby bar before I drag you to a club. I notice you’ve stopped ordering alcohol for yourself, but I don’t really think about it.

It’s about 3am, I’m pretty drunk and I ask if we can go home. You get us a taxi, and help me as I stumble out of it when we get back to your place.

Feeling exhausted, I head to the bathroom to take my make up off and get ready for bed. I’m just about to brush my hair when you follow me into the bathroom.

You stand in the doorway staring at me. The smile from earlier is completely washed from your face.

I look at you with anticipation before turning my gaze to the counter in front of me. I don’t want to look at you, and even in my drunken haze I know I’m in trouble.

“You weren’t a very good girl tonight, were you?” You say, not expecting an answer from me.

I’m still looking at the counter.

“Disappointing, really” you add almost sarcastically.

I lift my head up and turn to face you.

“You were over an hour late, you almost made a scene in the restaurant. Let’s not forget your foul mouth either”

I look at the ground, I’m really not in the mood for this. Im tired, I just want to go to bed. Sleep. Forget about it.

I start to head for the door but you’re blocking my way. You put your arm out to stop me getting through.

“Please, let me past” I say indignantly. Although it sounds more like an order than anything else.

I can feel your eyes boring into my face as you look down at me, yet you don’t say a word.

Annoyed now I’m getting ready to tell you Im tired and can we talk about it tomorrow.

“Look..” I start, annoyed. But I’m quickly quieted by a sharp blow across my cheek. You slapped me. Hard. My hand finds my face automatically, as if that will somehow numb the sting. I didn’t see it coming and I’m still in shock when you slap my other cheek harder than before. Just as I think I’m about to lose my balance, I feel your hand in my hair.

You’re being rough, I feel your hand tightening in my loose curls. “Don’t argue with me,” you whsiper in my ear before throwing me into the wall at the side of the door. My back hits the wall with a thud, I’m now completely against the wall, the force from your grip holding me in place.

You pull harder so that my chin is being lifted up, leaving my neck exposed. I’m suddenly aware of how vulnerable I feel.

“Please..” I whimper

Your free hand grabs my neck and presses into my throat “Please what, princess?”

I want to speak but the words won’t come out. I can hardly breathe.

“Hmmmm? Don’t want to talk to me now?” You tease

I’m desperately clawing at your hand, trying to get you off me, frantically gasping for air but your grip only tightens around my neck.

“N..o” I manage to gasp. Your grip loosens from my neck. Panting, I savour the air that’s finally going into my lungs.

Your hand moves from my neck, to my shoulder. Gently you run your fingers over the strap of my dress, as though admiring the satin against my skin.

Maybe you’re done with me, I think. Your hand goes underneath the strap and slides down to touch my breast. You squeeze hard before returning to the strap and forcefully pulling it off my shoulder. The whole strap rips from my dress and leaves my right breast exposed. You do the same with the left strap and before I know it you’ve ripped my dress so that it’s hanging just above my waist.

Leaving my hair, your hand moves to my neck once again, while your other hand runs down my waist. It finds the hem of my skirt and you push your hand between my legs.

“No, please.” Just leave me alone. I turn my head to the side, pretend this isn’t happening.

You slap me again with the back of your hand. I actually think it’s the hardest you’ve ever hit my face, my face goes straight into the side of the wall. I can taste the blood in my mouth.

“No?” You goad as you push your fingers inside of me. This is amusing you “But your cunt is dripping wet… Look”

You wipe your fingers down my cheek, stopping at my lips before forcing my mouth open and shoving them in.

“Such a filthy slut” You laugh. “You know what happens to filthy sluts..” You pause.

“They get beaten”

“Inconsiderate girls get beaten”

“Selfish girls get beaten”

“That’s what you are, arent you? A selfish little bitch… An inconsiderate cunt, aren’t you?”

Tears stinging my eyes, I can barely force out an audible ‘no’. I try, but it’s just a sound.

I didn’t mean to be. All I want is to be your good girl.

Please….

The next sound I hear is of you unbuckling your belt.

My heart is pounding in my chest. I know what’s coming. I struggle, try to get away, but you push me back into the cold hard wall.

I’m putting up a fight, trying to push you away from me, but you slap me hard across the face. I close my eyes as I try and move away from you but I don’t have the energy to put up a fight. When I open my eyes I can see the black stains from my make-up, tears are flowing freely down my face.

You finish unbuckling your belt, it’s in your hand.. and slowly you start beating me with it. My arms, my thighs. I try to cover myself from the blows, try and cower in the corner, but that only leaves my back and shoulders exposed now too.

I feel the leather cracking down on my skin, hard. My hands reach for the wall, trying to help myself get up. I need to get away, I can’t bear this. But you’re relentless. You grab my arm and pull me across the bathroom floor, you push my ass forcefully with sole of your shoe. I’m on my hands and knees and my face lands straight on the floor.

You push what’s left of my dress up around my waist. You grab my ass. Run your hands under the delicate lace of my knickers before ripping them off me.

I cry out, I think I’m begging you now, please stop. My begging only makes it worse as you continue to beat me, only stopping every now and then to pull my head up to look at you. You like to see my tears. You like to see my pain.

“Had enough Princess?” You say, almost sweetly.

I say nothing, I can’t. Just whimpers, sobs. My whole body is aching, burning, I feel like I’m about to pass out.

You stroke my hair gently “Now you’re going to make it up to me. Get onto your arms.. on all fours”

I don’t dare argue with you, but I struggle to lift myself up. My head is barely off the ground, arms out in front of me trying to push myself up, but I’m failing. You don’t care. You’re already behind me, already grabbed my hips. Already forcing yourself inside me, fucking me like I’m not even there.

“Please..” I whimper.. I don’t think you hear.. doesn’t matter even if you did.

Silently I rest my head back on the floor and sob. It’s uncontrollable, the floor below me is even worse now, my tears, mascara, my own saliva is falling onto the ground in front of me, blood from either my lip or my mouth. I’m not even sure.

You’re in front of me now, shoving your cock in my mouth. You fuck my mouth like I’m not even attached to it, grabbing my hair and shoving me down on you. I’m gagging, trying to stop myself from sobbing. You hold my head down. I’m mumbling something, trying to breathe.

“Quiet. Be a good girl for me”

You’re still holding my hair but you pull your cock out of my mouth, just in time to cum over my face. Pulling away some of your cum misses and end up on the floor.

“Look at the mess you’ve made. Now you need to clean it up”

I just stare at the floor in front of me, covered in your cum & my own wetness. My blood. My tears.

“Go on, be a good girl for me. Lick my cum off the floor. Go on”

I look away, more uncontrollable tears coming from my eyes.

Sneering, you grab my hair “What’s wrong?”

Automatically I lower my face to the floor and start licking up the mess.

“Hmm. That‘s it.” I can hear the amusement in your voice.

Embarrassment and shame runs through me as I think about myself. Practically naked, dress in shreds, licking up your mess from the bathroom floor.

You grab my chin and look at me with a smirk.

“You really are pathetic, aren‘t you? You actually like this”

A small laugh escapes your lips, because you know you’re right. I know you’re right. We both know how wet I am right now, but your gaze doesn’t leave my face.

“Do you think any of your girlfriends would do that?” You pause, and smile.

“Look at you, crying on the floor”

“What about Sophie from the bar earlier, hmm? Do you think she would reduce herself to this?”

I’m burning up inside. I feel the shame pouring out of me, seeping through my skin. My face feels hot, tears are pricking my eyes.

“Sophié looked like a nice girl, didn’t she? Nice girls don’t humiliate themselves like this. They have dignity, respect for themselves.”

You bend your knee to the ground so you‘re closer to me. Pulling my chin up, you come closer to my face. I can‘t bear to meet your gaze, for you to see fresh tears coming from my eyes.

“Look at me” you say squeezing my face harder. I look up.

“Not even a prostitute would do what you do, you know that?” you say almost in a whisper.

Your touch is lighter now, your thumb is stroking my face “But you’ll do it for me, won’t you princess?”

I look up at you and nod. You’re right. I’d do anything.

You kiss my forehead and stand up “Good girl”

“Let’s get you cleaned up

About Girl Uninterrupted

Deviant
This entry was posted in BDSM, Erotica, My Submission and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to The Things I Do

  1. heathercoleatvaginaantics says:

    *sigh* That’s the beauty of being a “good girl.” We do ALL sorts of depraved things. 🙂 Excellent writing. LOVE!

  2. Theo Black says:

    nicely written. very hot.

  3. sextails says:

    Incredible. Submission in full.

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