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My head is in your lap, my face against the soft fabric of your suit, still dressed from work. I exhale any stresses and worries as I lay here, breathing deeply, feeling calm and content being here in your presence.

I feel your large hands running gently through my silky hair. Fingertips caressing my scalp, as my breathing becomes slow and deep, and my eyes drift closed. They're soothing, calming, relaxing, gentle.

Abruptly, they stop.

After a few seconds, with no sound but the clock quietly ticking, they begin to move again. But this time, those gentle hands have been replaced with rough hands.

Jolted from my deep relaxation, your sharp tugs elicit a gasp, and send shivers racing through my body.

Tugging, gripping, pulling.

Guiding me, moving me. Lifting my head, our eyes meet. Without a word spoken, you guide me to move from my position with you on the couch, to the floor.

To kneel before you, my palms resting on your thick, firm thighs.

Your hand, still in my hair, holds my head up, keeping my gaze upon your face. You know how difficult I find prolonged, intense eye contact, and you accept that. But there are occasions, like this one, that you insist.

Despite no words passing my lips, you know how it makes me feel; uncomfortable, naked, vulnerable. Like my soul is on display for the world to see. But I do it regardless, for you.

"Zipper", you instruct, quietly but firmly. My hands move instantly towards the zipper on your trousers, fingers deftly unbuttoning the top button, then tugging down the zip. I pause, looking up and into your bright blue eyes, eagerly awaiting your next instruction.

"Use your words" you order, a glint of amusement appearing in your eyes as I pout at your demand. I know exactly what it is you want me to say, and despite knowing a punishment may lie ahead, I still hesitate to give you what you want. My pouting and hesitation results in a stern look. I feel your fiery gaze piercing me, one eyebrow raised, whilst you wait patiently for my response.

After whining and pouting, with my puppy dog eyes at their best, you lean forward, towards me, with a smug look clearly evident on your handsome face, those eyes still showing your amusement. "Keep it up, my little brat. You know what the punishment will be."

I roll my eyes and huff as I consider whether to continue being bratty, or give you what you want. Seeing this, you instantly grab my throat, making me moan, my stomach flip with excitement, and my thighs grow slick with my arousal. "Ok brat. Have it your way".

You've always known just how to get me to do exactly what you want. Even if I do still brat you in the process.

"Please Sir, m-may I?" I manage to choke out.

Nodding once, you release my throat, and I reach to release your already hard cock from your trousers. As I do, I'm rewarded with the sight of those first beads of pre cum forming.

I'm all too aware that taking what I want, without permission, will undoubtedly result in punishment. But seeing those clear, delicious droplets forming, drives me wild and I cannot control myself.

Nor do I want to.

I lean forward to help myself to a taste, mouth open, tongue at the ready, eyes fixed on their only goal.

Knowing me as well as you do, you're too quick for me.

Hand still in my hair, you tighten your grip and pull to stop me in my tracks. My head jerks back, and an involuntary little whimper escapes me, as a devilish smirk forms on my lips.

"You are a greedy little slut tonight, aren't you?" You taunt me, a wicked, dark look upon your face which tells me wordlessly that you will enjoy delivering my punishment.

Perhaps, almost as much as I will enjoy receiving it.

You pull me towards you. "Close that slutty little mouth for me" you instruct quietly, and this time I do as I'm told.

As soon as my lips touch, you take hold of your cock and begin to smear those precious drops of pre cum across my lips.

"Now, since you wanted this so badly that you felt you could take without asking, im going to let you have it."

Eyes jerking up in surprise, my brow knits together and I look at your face in confusion. "Yes that's right. I'm going to give it you. All of it, all over those pretty little lips of yours. However, there's a catch. You will leave it there. No wiping, no licking, no removal whatsoever. Not until I say so."

I start to pout at this, and you grab my face, tightly gripping my chin.

"Do. Not. Make this any worse for yourself, little one, unless you want more punishment. I was going to have you choke on my cock, the way we both enjoy, but if you're going to be a little brat, then you can do without that as well as doing without my cum. So. What will it be? Do you think you can be my filthy little slut and make me proud?"

The tone of your voice, your firm grip in my hair, the look in your eyes. All of it threatens to overwhelm my senses and I respond automatically.

"Yes, Sir. I want to make you proud. I want to be your filthy little slut Sir".

As I feel your cock reach the back of my throat, and feel tears begin to form, I hear you speak again; a deep, growling, primal voice. "Yes. That's right. Choke on my cock, my greedy little slut".

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