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A fistful of your hair in my hand, a thin string of drool falling from your lips. All you can focus on is the veins that run along my cock, throbbing gently, begging to be touched. You gave up trying to act independent, and in return, you get to have every decision made for you. But right now, your eyes are transfixed and your brain obsessed as your tongue sticks out ever so slightly as you look up at me. This is where you are now, degrading yourself because it makes you wet thinking about how much fun it is to be a dumb whore. My cock twitches and you try to lean forward to press your lips against the tip, only to feel my hand yank your hair back to the sound of your pathetic whines. If you're as needy for cock as you claim to be, love, you'll beg me for it.

And as you crawl on your hands and knees towards my cock and watch me back away slowly each time, you start to realize what it really means to beg