by Lily Harlem
Jovica removed his fingers and lifted from my back, presumably to put on a condom. I shut my eyes and felt strangely disembodied lying over the low table. I folded in on myself. It was as if I was just one big pussy waiting for orgasm. Nothing, no one else existed. I was just a mass of pulsing need waiting to be sated.
The touch of his cock at my entrance tugged me from my dazed state. Shit, it was so wide, so dense.
Involuntarily, my pussy tensed. He made a low, deep-throated grunt and pushed his glans into my entrance.
Whimpering at the burning stretch, which I knew was only going to get more intense, I clawed the edge of the table and clenched my jaw. Then in one smooth, determined glide, the steely length of him sank to the hilt. I bucked and clamped around his thick girth, both adoring and fighting the bone-hardness of his shaft.
“Ah yes,” he said on a long breath, gripping my hips with his big, callus-ridden hands.
He pulled out, almost completely, then forged back in.
Within a minute he’d set up fast but measured strokes, pounding ruthlessly against my cervix each time. It felt as though he were trying to ram his cock up and out of my throat, penetrate right through my body and come out the other end.
I struggled even to breathe each time he hit maximum depth, and my thighs and chest bashed against the table. His fingers tightened and he upped the pace. It was already fast, now it was animalistic, wild, and I couldn’t help my guttural groans of edgy pleasure. His cock ramming over my G-spot so accurately, so hard was building me up to an almighty climax.
“Ah fuck, yes, you dirty fucking bitch,” he groaned, releasing one of my hips and snatching up a handful of my hair. He pulled, tugging hard so my neck and back arched almost to the snapping point.
“Oh God, yes,” I cried out unashamedly as this new position slid the mushroomed head of his cock even more firmly over my G-spot.
“You like it hard and rough, don’t you, whore?” he snarled. “Am I doing it hard enough? Am I?”
“Yes, yes, oh—” I reached my peak. Staring at the TV screen at an image of a black cock penetrating a woman’s asshole, I came. My pussy plunged into violent contractions as my deliciously deep G-spot orgasm ravaged me.
“Dirty bitch of a whore, you think it’s okay to come, do you, when I’m paying you to give me pleasure?” His grip on my hair tightened. My scalp complained bitterly and I yelped.
“Shut the fuck up or I’ll gag you.”
I clamped my mouth shut, trying to contain my gasps, but I could do nothing about the shudders of delight ricocheting up my spine and tugging at the walls of my pussy.
He withdrew and released my hair. My forehead fell to the table. In place of his cock his hands were on me, all over me, kneading my buttocks, roaming down the cleft to my anus, dipping into my syrupy wetness.
“Now you’re gonna take it like her,” he said.
I presumed he was talking about the porn lady who was now screaming for more. A flutter of nerves twitched my muscles; there was an element of flight mixed in with the lust now. Did I really want to lose my anal virginity to a rough, filthy-talking man who was paying to fuck me up the ass?
Hell yeah!
Which made flight not an option. My whore ego, my inner self, which wanted this debasing, this undignified corruption, made me stay. I had to see it through.
He was circling the tight pucker of my darkest hole, spreading my natural lubrication around it. I tried not to move, but as he increased the pressure at the very center and probed inside I couldn’t help but jerk away.
“Keep fucking still.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice, as though he knew he was pushing me, taking me to the edge. “This is just my finger. In a minute you’re going to take my big, fat dick, so you better get used to it, whore.” He backed up his words by adding another finger and pushing in until I could feel his thick knuckles on my butt.
“Oh God,” I groaned. He was wriggling his fingers inside me, stroking my internal walls and creating a sensation I’d never felt before.
“You’ve got a greedy little ass,” he said. “It wants me, it’s clenching around my fingers.”
Suddenly the stretch increased, massively, the burn of pain like a long leather whip cracking right over my hole.
“Ah, ah…oh please, I—” I cried, shifting on the table, trying to move away from the bite. He was scissoring his fingers, opening my tight band of muscle wide and spreading my copious lube inside me. The sinful nip of pain was as unbearable as it was delicious.
“Will you shut the fuck up.” He pulled his fingers out. Next thing I knew he was leaning over my face. “Open.” As he said it he rammed my lacy black panties into my mouth. “Keep them there until I tell you otherwise. I will not have nosy neighbors turning up to see what your fucking wailing is all about, whore.”
The panties were damp and the tacky cream that had leaked from my pussy earlier pressed onto my palate. But I was grateful for them, for although they were uncomfortable and stimulated my gag reflex, I knew I would not be able to help but cry out when he plunged his big cock into my little ass.
And his cock was there now, waiting, priming.
I tried to loosen my sphincter, willed some kind of relaxation, but it didn’t happen. I was too turned-on, too terrified and way too far gone on this undignified ride to spectacular satisfaction. Eagerness and the instinctual fear of pain collided in the most corrupt of emotions.
He pushed forward and the head of his cock popped into me with ease despite my clamped anus. My soft, pliable body was no match to his hard, strong one.
I moaned around the panties, long and deep, trying to focus on the pleasure that skirted the pain so closely.
“Ah, so fucking tight, bitch, you’re going to snap my dick.”
He wrapped his hands over my hips once more and impaled me. Not fast, quite slow, as if drawing out the pleasure of the stinging stretch.
He rode his cock farther and deeper. My whole body trembled, sweat prickled on my skin. The sensation was so carnal, and the higher he went the more chock full I became. Suddenly I had the urge to defecate and writhed on the table in panic. Twisting, trying to look at him. Trying to get away.
Oh God!
A firm pressure landed in the center of my back. His splayed hand. “Keep still,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “You’ve nearly taken all of me. It’s only my cock you feel.”
I groaned and squeezed my eyes shut. Another few seconds and the urge to push left me and in its place was an overwhelming sensation of fullness.
“Ah yes, you’re so fucking horny,” he said as finally his hairy thighs butted up against the backs of mine. “And you’ve taken every damn inch of my dick.”
Biting down on the panties, I groaned and clenched my fists. I felt so invaded, consumed, violated.
It was without a doubt the single most erotic moment of my life.
“Now I’m gonna give it to you, whore.” As he spoke he pulled out so the ridge beneath his glans sat just inside my sphincter. “Hold on for the ride.”
Bracing my spine, I grappled for the edge of the table. I’d seen his damn fine muscles—if he decided to unleash his strength I was in trouble.
He tunneled in, gliding through my greasily lubed asshole until his balls slapped against my labia.
“Ah…mmph…ah,” I managed around the lace.
“Take it, bitch.”
Then he was hammering, taking what he wanted. Gone was the slow ride. He was collecting his goods. His purchase. And with each ferocious stroke I was getting higher on endorphins. The burn was exquisite. Nerves I didn’t even know I owned were being pounded and stimulated. I was going to come again. It was building, great big vats of pressure growing deep inside me. My greedy ass reaching out for the climax, demanding it.
“I’m coming, I’m coming in your slutty fucking whore’s ass,” he hissed.
In one final ram, he penetrated me deeper than I would ever have thought possible. His thick, taut cock stretched me to a po
int of exquisite agony and I joined him in that blissful moment of climax.
Cock pulsing, he dropped his full weight over me, bashing the breath from my lungs.
I grunted and reeled through the wonderful waves of spasms and contractions. My whole universe had become his cock in my slutty ass. It, we, were all that existed. My vision blurred, my body buzzed and my ass gripped him as though it would never let the hell go.
“Ah fuck, that’s intense,” he gasped, his breaths hot and hard in my ear. Fortunately, he lifted his weight.
I couldn’t answer around the panties.
He reached up and tugged them. As they dragged out my dry tongue stuck to my lips then the roof of my mouth.
“You’ve got one fine whore’s ass,” he said, nipping my shoulder and kissing the sore spot he’d made. “Really fine.”
Moaning and gasping, I shifted beneath him. I didn’t want any postcoital sentiments and considering the other foul things he’d said, praising my “fine whore’s ass” was scarily complimentary.
This bit, the end of the transaction, appealed to me as much as the rest, if not more. Now I would be paid and discarded. I wanted to revel in the moment of being nothing more than a sexual object.
He lifted and pulled slowly away from my body—inch by slippery, heated inch. I couldn’t help the clenching of my sphincter and it revealed to me every ridge and thick vein of his shaft as he smoothed over it.
Finally, he tugged out. “Get dressed,” he said harshly, his body heat leaving me completely.
Scrabbling sideways, I landed on all fours and crawled to my clothes. There was no point putting on my vest top, it was in shreds. Breaths still coming fast and sharp, I shrugged into my denim jacket and fastened it over my crudely abused chest. The cool buttons pressed on my sweat-damp flesh and every rapid breath I took squeezed coarse denim against my taut nipples.
Unfurling my panties, I sat on my scorched, tender rear and slid them on.
Jovica stepped into his boxer briefs and stood watching me. There was a rise of color on his cheekbones. His chest was lifting and falling briskly. His eyes were narrowed and a sheen of sweat sparkled on his brow.
“My hundred,” I said, poking my feet into my scrappy skirt and tugging the tight material up and over my hips.
He glanced down at his cell on the sofa. “I guess the hour is just about over and I’m not going to get it up again in the next five.”
He reached for a cigarette and lit it as if he had all the time in the world.
“So pay me.”
He inhaled deeply, blew out the smoke then balanced the thin end between his lips. Stooping, he sought his wallet and flipped it open.
I stood and slipped on my shoes. My body was trembling, from the aftermath of the climax and from the thrill of being paid for letting him fuck me in my mouth, my cunt and up my ass. It was a floaty, dreamy sensation.
He tugged out a wad of notes. “Here,” he said around the cigarette.
Stepping up to him on weak knees, I snatched the money. Counted it and shoved it into my front breast pocket.
Our gazes connected for the briefest of seconds, then I strode past him. After four steps my heels unbalanced me and my foot twisted. I stumbled and fell into the door at the same time as he grabbed my upper arm.
I cried out as a knife-sharp pain seared around bones and tendons in my left ankle. But my cry faltered as he spun me fast and banged my back against the door, whooshing the breath from my lungs.
Gasping, I looked up at him, blinking rapidly as smoke filled the narrow space between us.
Releasing his grip on my left arm, he plucked the roll-up from his mouth and ground it against the door, just to the left of my head. He let the crinkled stub fall to the floor.
“You wanna be careful,” he said in a strangely quiet voice. “You might get hurt.”
His eyes were on fire, the dark-brown iris ringed with black, his pupils wide and glittering. Each untamed brow and long eyelash was clear to me as was a miniscule freckle below the tiny inner curve of his right eye, where tears would come from. He pressed his lips together so tight they paled, and his nostrils flared with each breath. I could see inside his nostrils, the little straight black hairs growing there.
He was so damn close and so damn raw.
I gulped. My heart tripped. This contact, this expression was not only new it screamed danger. A sudden sense of cold dread seared through my veins. My precarious position had just soared to flight level. Fight was not an option. The size of him, the stored-up power vibrating through his body was terrifying but also, and I hardly dared admit it, exhilarating. In fact, if I hadn’t felt so damn scared I would have paused to examine why this white-knuckle moment was making me buzz again.
“Whore,” he muttered, the left side of his mouth twitching. “You’ve enjoyed your work tonight, haven’t you?”
“I… I have to go.”
He was roaming his hands over my shoulders, my chest and my neck. He cupped my cheek and nape, held my head painfully tight.
He kissed me.
I wouldn’t accept it. I clamped my mouth and fought him off with my fists, but it was like trying to move a slab of concrete. He was unbudgeable, his weight twice mine and his muscles toned and strong.
He plundered his tongue in and swept around. His lips were hard and ferocious against mine. He moved his hands down the channel of my neck, to my throat.
I dropped my weight. In some corner of my mind I imagined sinking to the floor and crawling away. It was a mistake. As my body slid the grip on my throat stiffened.
Tightened.
Constricted.
He pulled back from our one-sided kiss. His black gaze sought mine as he locked his long fingers around my neck.
“Going somewhere?” he asked with a sneer.
He was gripping me too tight. Airflow was not efficient. I opened my mouth to tell him to let go.
He squeezed even harder.
Airflow was now impossible.
Bucking, I grasped his wrists, dug in my nails and lifted my knee to bang into his groin.
Nothing.
Not even a wince.
Panic, horror and dread bombarded my system. I couldn’t breathe. He was strangling me.
I grappled for his face, intent on scratching out his eyes. He tipped his head back and a cruel smile curled his lips.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he said. “I’ve got you.”
My brain was chugging, my cheeks on fire, and my diaphragm tugged violently, desperate for oxygen. My eyes widened and bulged as a million regrets zipped through my mind.
Why?
His grip was viselike. Hard and intense. A ring of iron around my tender flesh. Black dots invaded my vision. Like ants they marched in from the periphery. I was going to die. He was murdering me. Jovica was killing me, here, in this grimy, stinking room.
My time had come.
And it was all my own fault. I’d sought out the danger, hadn’t paid heed to the recklessness of my actions even though I knew it could come to this. So intent was I on being a whore I’d risked everything and now would pay the highest price.
In a last-ditch bid for escape, I stamped on his feet. But my muscles weren’t working properly. It was a flailing, watery drip of a counterattack. My body was no longer my own. It belonged to Jovica, my executioner. No one would ever find me, not up here.
A detached sensation came over me. Strangulation was quick and it was doing its job. I gave in to the lethargy, the acceptance of death. Closed my eyes, wishing my last sight hadn’t been my murderer’s face.
As suddenly as he’d grabbed me he released me. My neck at least.
“Breathe,” he snapped, cupping my chin and tilting my head up with a rough jerk.
My chest heaved and I sucked in a deep, croaking breath. Filled my lungs to the max and gripped his forearms for support.
“Breathe, whore.”
I gulped and gasped. The black ants receded. My throat was on
fire; it had been crushed and screamed its agony through every nerve of my being.
“Oh God, let me go, please,” I begged in a dry voice.
“Do you have any idea what the fuck you are doing?” he snarled with his teeth bared.
“Please.” My eyes brimmed with stinging tears. “Please, I want to go home.”
He dropped his head, pressed the tip of his nose against mine. “I’m not a nice guy,” he said in a low monotone. “Not by any fucking stretch of the imagination.”
“Please, Jovica, let me go.” I’d read somewhere about using names. Was it good or bad? I couldn’t be sure.
“But out there are guys who are really fucking horrible. Evil, depraved men who can think of things to do to you that defy imagination.”
Flattening my hands on his bare chest, I tried once again to push him away. He didn’t even falter despite my hardest shove.
“These guys would fuck you then tear you up, mutilate you and make you wish you were dead before eventually, finally, they would put you out of your misery. Leaving this earth would be a relief. Do you get what I’m saying?”
Tears streamed down my face. “Please, please, I want to go.”
He tilted his head. “Do you get what I’m saying?” he snapped.
“Yes, yes.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Then go, but remember this fear. Hold it in your dumb fucking blonde head. ‘Cause if you don’t the next thing that happens will be a small ad saying you’re missing.” He stepped back, releasing me. “You’ve had your fantasy, now go find one of the good guys to play with.”
A sob hiccupped up from my chest and I spun and grasped the door latch.
I started to open it but he shoved into my back. He spanned his broad palm over the seam of the door and held it shut. “Do what I say, ‘cause your body would never be found. You’ll have been used and abused and destroyed like all the other poor fucking whores out there then dumped into the Hudson.”
Goo from my nose ran into my mouth. Slimy saline coated my tongue. “Please,” I whimpered, staring at the ashy cigarette mark on the door. “Please, let me go.”
With a flourish, he released the door and stepped back. “Go. Get the fuck out of here.”
