There's a quaver to his voice. An uncertain cadence as he strokes a blonde lock behind my ear. “Sure you want this? Last chance.”

I simply nod and breathe in. Maybe the last willful breath I'll take until he's done. Pursing my lips, I catch myself in the mirror opposite the hotel bed. Legs splayed. Sitting on my hands. Panties soaked, despite barely a touch. Nipples poke against the strappy black cami top, begging for attention. Yet the O of my lips steals the show. Painted deep crimson in the same lipstick shade as the other letters I told him to draw on my cheeks.

WH O RE

The mattress jiggles as he stands, naked, towering above me and swings a leg to straddle my thighs. I track up his legs, past the taut, shaved sac perched beneath his girthy cock, almost at full attention. Powerful and masculine. Veins pulsing with intent.

I continue my survey. Familiar soft abs. Defined pecs. Strong jawline. And those eyes. Fuck. Brimming with desire.

All for me.

Heat radiates from the tip of his shaft. I open up and the sweetness of pre-cum swabs the lipstick. The tip of my tongue. The midsection. Then the entrance to my throat. I swallow panic. Retch; a most unladylike response, and he pulls clear. Traces the loop of saliva around my lips with a fingertip. Aligns his prick and glides in again.

Same depth. Same response, my stomach clenching as I gag. He withdraws. I drool. He smears.

On the next thrust, a fraction deeper, I emit an involuntary gurp. Far from being repulsed by the filthy noise, my pussy drips. Or maybe it's a reaction to my abs crunching as my air is stolen.

A desperate gasp follows his exit, but it's short-lived; no time to recover before I'm impaled again. My eyes water and I cough around his meat.

He pulls out. The top two-thirds glisten in the lamplight and he wipes his fist up and down. Just once.

“You can do better.”

I nod. Gaze up and part my lips, almost panting. He places the ridged crown on my outstretched tongue. An offering. I swirl one loop. Savour. Swallow his silky pre-cum.

Wait.

Wait.

Choke.

This thrust is more merciless. He holds as I splutter, then yanks free. Wipes my cheek before the tear can spoil the lipstick lettering.

What's wrong with me? Why did I ask for this? Why does it make me wet?

I have no answers. Just need and gasping breaths I don't fully get to appreciate before he's in me again. Deeper. Longer. Then out as I cough and drip; mouth and pussy.

His thumb traces my cheek again and I swing my bleary gaze skyward. Grin. “More,” and open my mouth.

Fuck, I'm broken. What does he think of me?

The next stroke bulges my throat. So deep. So dirty.

His groan fuels the mini tsunami in my ruined undies. His hand snaking behind my head to bunch my hair and tug me fully onto his hardness gives rise to more panic. I will myself to calm.

See it through. I trust him. I've… ohfuck… given myself to him.

He yanks my hair and jerks my head free, allowing me to catch a tear-stained glimpse of smeared lipstick in the mirror beyond his legs as I haul in oxygen. His grip tightens.

“You know what rhymes with 'more'?”

I nod and gaze up at him.

“Say it.”

I slurp stray saliva. Pause as I try to form the word, breathy and bubbling. “Whore.”

My air disappears again and his hips fill my vision. His cock is impossibly hard. Impossibly deep. And it's impossible to tell if I've pissed my panties or cum in them.

The gagging and spluttering seems otherworldly. Like it's not bursting from around his buried length.

Fuck FUCK he's gone too far. Surely I'll black out.

My hands fly from under my bottom and tap his thighs, then futilely claw him until he releases.

The stinging slap to my breast isn't even met with a verbal response, because I can't amid the gasping breaths my body craves.

He thunders, “We agreed. No hands.” Strokes my cheek and wipes up spit. The next words are softer: “Your rules, remember?”

I look away, ashamed I've not kept my end of the deal. His finger under my chin restores my faith. “Sit on your hands.”

My response is not immediate. Defiant. Anything to delay and let my body recover. I wiggle and replace my palms on the bed beneath my ruined panties.

“Good girl. Good little… what are you?”

My gaze finds his and I manage to nasally gurgle, “Whore. Your fugging liddle whore.”

His tone is even as he cradles my head. Wraps my hair in his fist. “Do you want my cum in your throat?”

I nod as best I can.

“Do you want me to use you?”

I nod. What the fuck for? Jesus, woman, you need help.

“And do you want me to pin you to the bed and devour your beautiful, filthy, whore,” he grits his teeth, “cunt. Until you cum and cum and don't know which way is up?”

I nod, a split second before his thick cock fully invades my throat, hammering relentlessly as I'm reduced to incoherent moans, disgustingly sexy chokes, and a twisted adoration for this man who throws back his head, jets of spunk pulsing directly into my stomach, then lets the remaining spurts spray free and cling to the smeared lettering on my cheeks.

I'm a gasping mess. Inside and out, as he releases me. Steps away. Flops beside me and strokes my skin, cuddling and nuzzling me like I'm a liquid gold heirloom.

He lets me recover. Lets me process. But not for long. My pulse quickens again as his caresses creep towards my drenched pussy.

Kneeling between my legs, he grins up at me.

“We should leave the kids with your mum more often.”