'So, this is what you're selling isn't it, cunt?' he said, face too close to me."Nothing else worth offering the world, you pathetic piece of shit."
I could smell his odour. He smelled vile with a combination of nicotine, sweat and the remnants of yesterday's pizza.
I was scared. I felt guilty for being there. How the hell did I end up here? This is not how my mother raised me. I wondered if I'd let the cat inside before I'd arrived here.
He held my long hair in a tight-fisted ball so hard that it hurt. His eyes were glinting in the light from the television. I pulled against him struggling but was held firmly in place by his weight upon me.
'Say it, whore', he demanded of me. I couldn't and shook my head stubbornly. Rough sex does not equate to being a whore - does it? I wondered if the people in the hotel room could hear us next door.
His free hand shoved my knees apart roughly and he kneeled between them. My wrists were bound to the bed with his neck-tie and a scarf I'd been wearing earlier that night. Without warning he slapped my bare cunt - hard. The clap against the skin was loud and I felt the sting immediately afterwards. My eyes watered and the red imprint of his hand seemed embedded on my most sensitive skin. I despised him.
'Say it, whore.' he repeated, eyes bulging with power. I imagined his dick was erect and it made me sick. 'Your cunt is revolting' he said, 'you stink like a fucking pig by allowing all those men to fuck you"
'I've been watching you walking around like the world owes you a fucking living,' he spat at me. I blinked to avoid the spit landing in my eye.
'I don't think that at al.....' I started to say and he slapped my cunt again. "sorry, dear" I whispered.
"shut your fucking mouth" he replied and in a flash, unzipped his pants and shoved his gloved- cock inside of me. I winced in pain but it was not because of his cock. It was his brute force and the holding of my hair. He forced himself hard against me, holding my knees flat on the bed until my head was hard up against the headboard. I couldn't breathe. He had one hand firmly wrapped around my throat and I felt as though I would die.
"You force me to wear this rubber so that I am not contaminated by your filthy juices, slut" and he got quicker in his strokes, harder and quicker. His breathing became labored and I sighed knowing it would be over soon. He heard the sigh and slapped me - hard. I hoped that his slap would not leave a mark.
He shot his load while he called his mothers name over and over again. As quickly as he'd assumed the role that got him off and paid my bills, he assumed the role of the professional businessman that was my most regular client.
I met him once a month and he paid very-well to degrade me as his mother but despite his regular visits, I could not call him 'son' as he requested.
'Alright, Ann?' he said, concerned, untying my red wrists.
"Yes, thanks Peter. I'm fine" rubbing my swollen wrists.
"So, you're still okay for the 5th?" he confirmed as he secured his neck-tie firmly in place. He picked up his neatly folder suit jacket and waited for a response.
"Yes. I've booked you in advance until the end of the year, Peter." I replied with a smile at the wad of cash he'd left by my purse.
'oh great. I look forward to it.Night Ann' he offered before closing the door behind him.
"Night Peter" I replied and snapped my purse and legs shut.
16 comments:
WOW!
This is good. I was so engaged. HHmm, the world of prostitution is very dark and very ugly. I think you are showing us something different. Not good or bad, but more nuanced than just calling a woman a whore and knowing nothing of her life.
I am intrigued...I hope there is more to the story. There has to be more.
Yes.... lovebabz, thanks for your feedback. It's a disgusting piece but I'm trying to evoke emotion in a reader. Maybe it's revulsion, maybe it's empathy, maybe it's something else.
It's a snapshot I guess on what the pussy can do for a woman, and a man, negatively so.
SADistic -- that a woman can drive a man to do such over and over again. However, I enjoyed your story very much.
Rich, it is sad, isn't it. I agree with you. Thanks for the feedback :)
Okayyyy... Excuse me while I go sit with my mind blown over in that corner...--->>
"He shot his load while he called his mothers name over and over again." never heard the such...
hi 2nd 68. I hope my post didn't offend you. I apologise if it did.
No apologies necessary. It takes more than that and usually something directed at me to offend me.
But it was a bit mind blowing. Needless to say you got a reaction.
Okay, thanks mate :)
that was great read folk
nice story ms. smack...i enjoyed it, the calling of his mother's name over and over...took me down a road i wasn't expecting and packaged nicely in the end.
makes you wonder... ;-P
damn, I need more of this story. This is better than Confessions of a Call Girl on Showtime
Terrence, thanks :)
Lance, yes...a road less travelled by us folk, eh? Definitely not an experience I'd like!
Old Me - I'm working on it. Thanks heaps x
Damn! That was good and very interesting. Whoever wrote this needs to do a book!
Ms. Smack - this definitely makes me think! Especially about all of the street walkers I used to watch closely as they came out of the cold when we visited a friend who worked a fast-food spot in DC's "red light" district when I was in my early teens. Some of the "women" didn't look much older than me... I often wonder what I'd ask a woman who worked the oldest trade...
Take a bow Ms. Smack! Not only was this story extremely intriguing, but you managed to humanize both characters in an incredibly short span of time.
I am an aspiring author who has been writing since childhood and as such, I know the difficulty of making us "normal" folks empathize with what most of us consider to be outside of our brands of normal.
You did a skillful job of "normalizing" both of these characters, and made them both acceptable to us at some point. I would love to read more from you!!!
aw gee, thanks so much for your beautifully supportive comments on my little story.... :)
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