Swatted Away
At a certain point, every other thing I say is just some form of begging. It’s not even entertaining anymore, it’s just annoying.
Please, let me know how annoying I am. How I sound like a fly buzzing by your ear.
Actually, please show me. Please tell me to strip and spread my legs. I want to lie there, legs spread, wet cunt on display, wiggling slightly, eyes glassy with need. Just for you to leave and grab the fly swatter. I deserve to cry as you slap my clit repeatedly while you tell me everything you find annoying about me. The way I talk, whine, laugh, dress, fucking breath. It’s all so absolutely, painstakingly annoying.
When I start to beg for you to stop, hit me harder. Is that not what made you do this in the first place? Is it really that hard to comprehend? Good god, when will I finally figure out when to just shut the fuck up?
When I finally devolve into nothing but tiny whimpers and tears, you can take a moment to admire some semblance of peace and quiet. Before putting a vibrator on my puffy, red clit and shoving your cock down my throat so you don’t have to hear anything else. After you cum down my throat, duct tape my mouth and leave me like that until morning. Hopefully I learn my lesson this time.