The city pulsed with lights, and I stood under a streetlamp beside a well-known gay club, aware that my gaze and the curves of my body were drawing attention. The short dress barely covered my hips, my legs were wrapped in fishnet stockings, and my lips, painted with bright red lipstick, promised a sizzling night. I knew what men wanted, and I was ready to give it to them.
He approached confidently, his eyes sliding over my body, evaluating me like merchandise. “How much?” he asked without unnecessary words, and I, looking him straight in the eyes, told him the amount. He nodded, reached into his pocket, and placed the bills in my palm. I smiled, feeling adrenaline and anticipation mixing in my veins. It was a deal.
We headed to the nearest hotel. He didn’t waste time. His hands roughly tore off my dress, and I was left only in my underwear, feeling his gaze consume me. He pushed me onto the bed, and I submitted, aware that he had paid for full control. His fingers dug into my hips, and his lips found my anal opening, but that was just the beginning.
He stripped off the rest of my clothes, turned me over, and positioned me on all fours. I felt his breath grow heavier, and his hands roughly spread my buttocks. The cool lubricant touched my skin, and I bit my lip, ready. He entered me abruptly, without warning, and I cried out, but the pain was quickly replaced by pleasure. His thrusts were strong, merciless, each one reminding me that I was here—his whore, bought for money. I moaned, surrendering to his rhythm, my fingers digging into the sheets, my body trembling with intensity.
“You’re worth the money,” he growled, speeding up. I felt him filling me, stretching me, and it drove me wild. My moans grew louder, and I knew he liked it. He grabbed my shoulders, forced me to arch my back, and continued to pound into me like a hammer until the room was filled with the sounds of his balls slapping against my ass.
But he wanted more. He pulled me out of that position, made me kneel in front of him. His penis, still hard, glistened, and I knew what was coming. I opened my mouth, and he thrust deep, so deep that I choked. He fucked my throat with the same ferocity as he took me from behind, his hands holding my head, not letting me pull away. Tears streamed down my face, but I didn’t resist—I was his, and I liked being used so roughly. His moans grew louder, and with one final, sharp thrust, he came, flooding my throat with a hot stream of semen. I swallowed, feeling him pulse inside me until he let go, breathing heavily.
He looked at me, my lips glistening, my hair disheveled. “Good whore,” he said, fastening his belt, and threw a few more bills onto the bed. I smiled, knowing I had earned them honestly. My body still pulsed, but I was already thinking about the next night, the next client.