On Sunday morning, I'm practising my religion: on my knees, worshipping your cock.

You've taken away my clothes because - you tell me - whores don't deserve clothes. Instead, you've tied my tits up with the thin black rope that makes them swell up like balloons, and because you like me to suffer while I service you, you've used the weighted clamps on me so that every time I move, my nipples are pulled.

I like to use my hands on you because your cock's too big for my mouth, but today, you've tied my arms behind my back. You tell me it makes my tits stick out more, as you slap them and pull on my nipple clamps until my face is up close by your cock. I start to say something but you tell me to shut up and suck your cock, swinging it so it slaps against my face, and then into my open mouth. 

For a second, I hope you'll be gentle, let me use my tongue and lips to please you, but you don't. Raping my throat pleases you more. You grab two handfuls of my hair and ram yourself over and over into my mouth, I can't breathe, there are tears in my eyes as I'm looking up at you, hoping you'll stop for just a second and let me grab a breath, but you don't - you force the whole huge length of you into my mouth and down my throat, and hold me there, your hands around my neck, squeezing, as you fuck my face. And as you do it, you tell me what I am: a cum-guzzling, cock-sucking dirty pigwhore who doesn't deserve your beautiful cock in my filthy, piss-drinking mouth. And then, with one last thrust that feels like it's going to rip my throat right open, you fill my mouth with your cum. And I drink it all up, swallow every last drop, like the good slut I want to be for you.