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“You’re as hot as your profile suggests. That’s a nice surprise.”
“Thanks. I’m always out to impress.”
He points a thumb at the drawn curtains. “Go open the curtains, hands on your head, and press your tits against the glass. With any luck, someone will be walking by.”
I step on over, my heart racing, and pull the curtains apart. I put my hands on my head and press my tits against the glass. I can’t deny the thrill as the cold glass sends shivers through me. There doesn’t seem to be anyone about, though. The streetlights are crap out there, so I can barely see the path, but anyone passing will be able to get a damn good view in here. We’re on the ground floor. Anyone could step right up to the glass if they wanted. Steve knows what he’s doing on that score, too. He’s positioned a corner light in just the right location to light me up for the outside world.
“No dog walkers?” Steve asks.
“Sadly not,” I tell him.
“Then get back over here,” he says. “On your knees.”
I do as I’m told, stepping over the strewn clothes to drop down onto the carpet at his feet. I stare up at him like the desperate bitch he wants me to be, and expect him to get his dick straight out, but he doesn’t. Instead, he reaches behind him and grabs a marker pen from the bedside table.
“Hold your tits up,” he tells me, and I obey his command, crushing them together to show off my cleavage.
“Very nice,” he says, stroking a finger over both nipples. Then he grips the pen lid in his teeth as he scrawls across my tits.
W. H. O. R. E.
The lines are thick, in permanent black ink. It’ll take me a fair amount of scrubbing to get clean later, but that doesn’t matter. I can see the bulge in his jeans when he puts the marker back on the side. Success.
“So, tell me. Are you really a needy bitch, Holly, or are you just pretending?”
I let go of my tits and meet his eyes, my imagination running free as I picture what’s ahead. This man, Steve, is going to fuck me, and use me, and make me scream for the whole fucking house and the world outside. And you know what? All sweetness be damned, because there’s a spark between my legs and I can’t deny it. I shift on my knees, because my pussy is already craving. My headspace is sinking into the filth zone, and I want it. Genuinely. I want to be Holly the cheap whore for User 1496 and fulfil his proposal to the letter.
“I’m not pretending,” I say, looking him in the eye. “I love what I do, not just the money from it.”
He leans forward, his face up close to mine. Steve is no model, but I don’t want him to be. His eyebrows are wispy, and his nose is skinny in contrast to his bulky chin, and that’s great for me. It’s fine. I want this to be about the filthy fucking sex, and nothing more.
“That’s good,” he says. “It’ll be all the more convincing when you come for me.”
“It won’t need to be convincing,” I say, taking hold of my tits again and squeezing my nipples. “It’ll be for real, and you’ll know it.”
“Guess the five-star reviews are right, then. Be a good girl for me, and you’ll get another one.”
I don’t baulk or flinch as he lands his lips on mine, just moan into the sloppy kiss and let his tongue swirl wet in my mouth. He’s making it dirty on purpose, but I don’t care. I reach up and take hold of his hair, kissing him back like I mean it. Fuck, I know my lipstick must be smearing. He grins like a dirty bastard as he pulls away, and then he takes advantage of it. He drags his palm across my lips to smear it right across my cheek.
“That suits you. You really do look like a whore now, so prove it. Finger your whore cunt. Show me how wet you are.”
I tug my lace thong to the side, and tease my clit before I hook two fingers inside me. I pump them hard, so he can hear the squelch, adding a third to make it louder.
“There, can you hear that? That’s no lie, Steve. I want to be a whore as much as you want to make me one.”
“Say it, then. Say you’re a whore. Keep fingering your wet cunt and tell me you’re a whore.”
“I’m a whore,” I tell him, and speed my fingers up. “I’m a dirty whore, Steve, and I’m all yours tonight.”
He smirks at that. “Louder. Say it louder.”
I imagine his neighbours gathered next door, listening out for me, but I don’t care. I smirk right back at him and say it louder.
“I’m a whore.”
“Not good enough.”
I focus on the heat of the sensation between my legs and close my eyes, preparing myself.
