Had pissed him off.
He'd come back a bit before midnight, been at the pub with his mates. Roused from my sleep when heard him open front door. Then heard him stumbling down the hall, he pushed the door open to the room he keeps me in, the hall light harsh on my eyes. It all happened fast and me half asleep, got the blanket off fast so as naked before him as always, barely got to my knees and no time to get my hands on my head and bow the way he wants, presenting myself to him, still half asleep, no time to do it the way he wants it. But he didn't notice. He's rolling a bit, he's drunk, so I got a moment to get myself kneeling, naked, posing open before him as he wants it, don't think he noticed me scrambling, he didn't whack me this time.
He puts thumb in my mouth, forefinger under chin, pushes down on my jaw, opens my mouth wide, holds me there like that. With his other hand, he unzips his jeans. He's fumbling in his drunken state, my mouth and head move with his rolling hand gripped at my jaw, he pulls at his belt, loosens it, the trousers drop. Then he pulls his jocks down, puts his cock in my mouth and straight away I feel his piss gushing in my mouth, on back of my tongue, down my throat. I gulp, and gulp, and manage it. I've learnt. I've learnt by now how to do this so as not to spill, which he hates if I do that. And if I splutter, then he'll push me away and then keep pissing, but on me and the mattress and leave me like that in his piss for the night, so I've learnt. I've learnt well how to take his piss and swallow it and do this for him the way he wants it done, to be this thing for him.
He moans as he pisses, like he's been hanging onto it since walking from the pub, really needed to let it go, down my throat. He seems to finish, his cock stays in my mouth, he's just stopped like that. Now comes some more piss, streams for a bit. Stops again, he's still again.
He's got his hand behind my neck, feel his thumb move back and forth on my neck. His cock's got larger in my mouth while he's stopped still there. At one point he sways a bit, loses his footing, but finds his feet again, using me as object to steady his self, keeping my mouth tight to his now bulging cock all the while. He starts to move his cock now, deep into my throat. He makes a little grunt noise as he starts, back and forth, building up. He's still got his hand on the back of my neck, squeezing hard, harder than usual because he's tanked up and hasn't quite got his wits about him. He's fucking my throat, hard, fucks hard and lost himself in it. I gag, don't think he notices, he just keeps going. He fucks my throat, he's going at it. And then he's cum.
He pulls his cock out, puts the head at my lips. I lick the head clean. He gently brushes my cheek with his thumb, rubs it back and forth, then looks down. I finish cleaning his cock and look up, he's looking down at me, bleary-eyed, half-cocked.
He looks for a bit, then frowns, staring, glaring at me, hasn't shifted his stare at me.
"What the fuck?"
Am on my knees, naked at his feet, his cock at my lips, looking up into his eyes. His mood has shifted sharply, something's narked him. He grabs my throat tight, his fingers around my neck, he's choking me. Leans down, leers at me, the stench of alcohol on his breath, spits at me, slurs.
"What. The fuck?"
Now I've woken up, suddenly alert. Although he's got me tight by the throat, I gurgle out the response he wants.
"Thank you, sir."
He throws me off, away against the wall, I stop there, open the body up to him the way he likes, legs apart, arms splayed, ready for his blows, ready for however he's gonna be, whatever he wants to do.
There's something blunt in his eyes as he stares at me. He is pissed off now, drunk and sullen - it's bad. I wait for him to punish me. But he doesn't. He just stares for a while. Then he pulls his jocks up, then his jeans, and lumbers out the room. He pushes the door hard behind him, leaving me in the dark again. I stay like that for a while, where he left me, cowering at the wall, waiting for him to come back with the belt. But after a while, I hear him go to his bedroom and it all goes quiet. After a long while, I think I'm probably safe to crawl quietly to my mattress and lay down because he seems to have left me for the night now.
This is bad, I know it. When he gets like that, that look on his face when I've done something like that because I've displeased him, it's better if he takes it out on me there and then. If he goes off and broods, it's worse. What he'll do next will be something he thinks about, something he mithers on and reckons will address the way I've disrespected him, something that'll teach me a lesson, leaving an impression on me. He's gonna stew on it, let me stew with it, he knows I know he's pissed off, it's what he wants. So I don't get much sleep that night, because whatever it is it might happen before the morning if he wakes up in the foul mood, ready to deliver it.
But the morning comes, and he doesn't come in as he usually does to have his cock seen to first thing as usual. Hear him get ready for work and then leave. He doesn't open the door to the room where he keeps me as he usually does - he's blanking me. This means he's still stewing on it. It means he'll have something for me when he gets home. The price to pay.
I lay on the mattress, naked, tired from the restless night, my mind on him, as the hours go by, while he's out. That's how he wants it, he knows he's put me there, thinking all the while about him, waiting for him, waiting for him to come home, waiting for it to hit me, what he's been brooding about all day, whatever it is I did to piss him off so badly, and the way he's gonna teach me all about it. I watch the light from the window, waiting for the afternoon to come, listening for the door to open. Waiting for him to return so he can do what he will do. Do things the way he wants, be the way he wants, be what he wants.