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I came home after work, my master was already there. Seated on our couch, reading a book. I closed the door behind me, and came in the living room. He closed the book, smiled, and snapped his fingers while indicating the floor at his feet.
For a while, I have been wearing my collar non-stop. I usually hide it under a scarf or kerchief. My master wanted me at his beck and call at any time. So was I, now, at any time he chose to call me.
At his snap, I had barely removed my coat that I was at his feet, on my knees, facing him. Waiting, eyes lowered, for him to give me an order. Idid not have to wait for long.
— Take off your shirt, he said. Part your knees.
Without raising my eyes, I took my shirt off, thus revealing my breasts – as I now wore my colla rat all times, I must dress accordingly. No underwear ever allowed, but stockings with a garter belt.
Naked from the waist up, I remained there, and waited.
— Your skirt, now. Keep your shoes and stockings.
I did. Naked, I knelt before him, eyes downcast.
— You are a thing. My thing. Are you not?
— Yes master. Your thing.
— Tonight, you will be a thing, an object. Not even the bitch I usually use you for. You will not answer when I talk, nor react or come when I touch you. At all. Is that clear ?
— Yes master.
— Good. Wait on all four in front of thecouch, I will be back.
I got in position as he asked, and waited. After a few minutes, he did come back. I guessed he had gone to fetch a few accessories.
First, he slipped a blind on my eyes. All I knew of what he did next is what I felt. On my ankles and wrists, he attached leather links with a metal buckle. To these, he attached somehting else, which I recognized as a stretch bar between my wrists. I could not pull my hands apart or together. My ankles, he tied together, and bound my knees together with a leather belt. Then, I felt a pressure on my anus, and something sliding in. I did not know what it was, but my master showed it to me the day after. It ressembles a fish hook (not pointy of course), with a loop at the other end. Maybe a centimeter in diamater, it slid into m yass without disconfort, et the loop lodged itself on the small of my back. Into this, he pooled a chain, which he linked to the bucke in my collar. He tightened it as hard as he could. My collar was cutting into my throat, making it hard to breathe, and nearly impossible to move my head.
Having tied me so, he sat on the couch in front of me, and said nothing. I heard a few ruffles, and him dialling on the phone.
— Hello, I would like to order some take-out. Yes…
He ordered Japanese food. When he was done, he counted money, put it on my back. Then went to the kitchen and got something out of the fridge.
— So, dear thing. Tonight, you are a table. Do not worry, you will eat too. I orderd a few maki for you, and taken out your bowl. You can eat like a bitch, when I am done eating off you. But first, I will dringk a beer. Put your head on the floor, and stick up your ass. You are a table with accessories.
Not understanding what he meant, I tried to place myself as he asked. The collar made it very uncomfortable until I worked out how to arch my back and thus stick up m yass even more. Then, I felt something cold agains my pussy. Something cold, hard and pressing. He had taken a bottle of beer in the fridge, and was trying to stick it my pussy as a bottle holder ! After a few efforts, the bottle slid right in – I was very aroused at the thought of being nothing more than a useful item. Once the bottle fit in my pussy, my master got up again, went for a glass. He came back to the couch, and I felt a strain, as he uncapped the bottle. The bottle shifted hard in my pussy when the cap let go, and I heard the liquid flow into the glass.
— Don’t move a muscle. The bottle isn’t empty. Mage a mess and I will be quite cross.
I did as he asked, and remained there, feeling quitte full. My master stretched his legs, and idly played with my breast, with the tip of his toes. Bouncing my breasts gently, pushing them this side and that.
After a few minutes, the doorbell rang. The take-out, probably. My master put his glass down on my ass, repeated that I should not move.
He went to answer the door. GReeted the delivery man, took the meal, said he’d left the money in the living room. Leaving the door open, he came back to pich the money he’d left on me, and went back to pay. I have no idea if the delivery man saw me or not. I imagined he did, and felt my pussy get hotter. My master came back, refilled his glass and slid the bottle fom my pussy with one swift gesture. Surprised at feeling empty all at once, I nearly gasped.
— Straighten up as you were before.
Weakly, I pushed on my arms and took again my straight-backed position. My master put several objets on me, one hot. I guessed he was laying out the table for his meal. I heard aon objet clutter beneath my head, probably my bowl. He had said I would eat later, so I did not move.
My master had laid out the table and I heard him leave for a few minutes. Then he came back, said he was glad to have such a useful table, and knelt in front of me ; His cock slapped my face, then pressed itself on my lips. I opened my mouth, which made it harder to breathe. I felt his sex slide into my mouth and my throat. Then, while throat-fucking me, he began eatng. I felt his thrusts again the back o my throat, felt him linger there sometime to choke me a little, and all the while heard the chopsticks working on my back, and him chewing. He even made comments on the food. After a few minutes, he got up. Went around me. Knelt behind me and slid his cock into my pussy while resuming his meal. I felt arousal rise in me, for he was pounding me as hard as he could without me toplping anything from my back. I heard him eating still. At one point, he said :
— And now, desert. A good thing, too, I’m nearly done.
And true enough, I soon felt him squirt his sperm inside me. Never had he taken me so egoistically, so indifferent to what I felt or needed. That to me was a new step in my role as his slave, his thing, his plaything. There he was, using me, litterally, only for him, not because it aroused me and made me come, but just because he wanted to. Not as a way to make me come harder, but because he was my owner, and I was nothing.
Soon after emptying himself inside me, with a groan that, two, indicated he did not feel the need to rexpress himself or refrain from anything, he took out his penis and unhooked my ankles. Ordered me to spread my legs, as wide as I could. I did, and heard my bowl slide on the floor. He… had dragged it between my knees, under my pussy. Then, he wiped his cock on my face and in my hair, and left me there. I heard him come back in the room a few minutes later. He slapped my ass hard, once, and said :
— Well, looks like you’re all empty. Good. Now you can eat.
He dragged my bowl back in front of me, and took out my blind. I could see the bottom of his pants. He had left me to go get dressed. As I had imagined, his sperm had flowed from my pussy and onto my food. There, in my bowl, were maybe ten makis, and all had some sperm on them.
— Eat, he said.
And I did. Then I licked my bowl clean, as my master had taught me to. I felt his seed, hot on the cold rolls, and felt its salt on my tongue. My pussy was on fire, after the being tied-up, the throat and pussy-fucking, but he never said a thing about making me come. When I was done eating, he pulled my hair until I knelt, looked me in the eyes, and said :
— You were a bitch. Now you’re a piece of furniture. I am proud of you, my whore.
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