Vishal's Whore

I feel his eyes on me as I dance, or when I knock down a few drinks at the bar or when I sit with my friends in one of the booths. I’ve felt his eyes on me the whole evening, and it’s making me wet. He hasn’t approached me or indicated in any way that he will; he just keeps following me around with his smouldering eyes.

I’m out with my friends at the nightclub, having a good time. I try to ignore him. It’s just that his bold staring is making me horny and I want him to make his move quickly. But he doesn’t. He just sits there and watches me.

By the end of the night, I am aware of every inch of my own body through his eyes. And I’m also acutely aware of the throbbing between my legs. I’ve already made two trips to the ladies’ room and fingered myself to a release both times, but I keep getting wet and aroused.

And his eyes keep roving over my body.

Finally, he walks up to me at the bar and taps me on the shoulder.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?” he asks, bending down to talk in my ear over the thumping music.

“Do I know you?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I saw you at Shravani’s party last week,” he declares, naming one of my friends. “I’m her friend.”

Now I know why he looked vaguely familiar. I slip off the bar stool and follow him. He guides me to the door and out of the warm, noisy club. We walk a few feet away and he offers me a cigarette. I accept and light up.

‘He’s not conventionally handsome’, I think. But there’s a ruggedness in his face and an intensity in his eyes. All night long, I feel like he’s been undressing me and fucking me with his eyes.

He looks up and at me after lighting his own cigarette and those intense eyes bore into mine.

“So I’ve heard you’re a slut.”

Just like that. He says it like he’s commenting on the weather.

I feel it like a kick in my gut and the remark immediately ignites a fire in my belly and warms up my cunt.

“I… that’s very rude…” I stammer.

A predatory smile curls around his lips.

“But true,” he states.

I dip my eyes, disengaging from his gaze, wondering how to answer. Finally, I shrug. It is true. I enjoy sex.

We stand there and smoke for a while, not talking. I know I’ll end up going with him and knowing how the night will end now, I just give myself over to it. We finish our cigarettes and he takes my hand up in his, tugging it.

“Let’s go.”

“What? Where?” I ask him, confused by his sudden claim on me.

“To my place.”

“Just like that? I don’t even know you,” I say.

“You know you want me,” he replies. “And I want you.”

I look deep into his eyes and wonder what to say.

“I think you’ll do,” he murmurs, almost to himself.

“Do?”

“For what I have in mind,” he elaborates.

His meaning couldn’t be clearer. He all but says I’m going to take you home and fuck you. It’s the baldest proposition I’ve ever had but his self-assurance makes me hot.

“Okay, but I have to tell my friends,” I tell him.

He steps back and gestures towards the door of the club.

“I’ll wait for you here,” he says.

I run in and check up on him with my friends.

“Do any of you know the guy who came up to me just now?” I throw out.

“Vishal?” one of them asks.

‘So that’s his name’, I think.

“You know him?” I ask my friend.

“Sure,” she replies. “He moves around with Shravani’s group sometimes. Seen him around but haven’t really talked much.”

So he’s legit. I gather up my clutch and hurriedly tell my friends that I’m leaving with him. I finish my goodbyes, running out the door and seeking him in the darkness.

He’s standing across the road, his bike already between his thighs. As he sees me, he starts it up and revs it. The deep growl of the engine runs a shiver down my body. This is going to be good.

I run across lightly and straddle the bike, adjusting myself and putting my hands around his waist from behind.

“Ready?” he asks me.

I murmur into his ear and we’re off.

I’ve ridden on bikes all my life but this is something else. The bike is more powerful than the average Indian two-wheelers and he drives it with a controlled wildness, speeding down the almost empty night roads. The vibrating seat between my legs has me aroused and ready by the time we reach his place.

As soon as we’re in the door, I grab him and try to pull him to me.

He reacts instantly, taking both my hands in one grip and slamming me against the wall.

“It will be my way, slut,” he says, looking into my eyes.

I feel my lower lip trembling in fear and embarrassment, and the adrenaline rushes through my blood, but there’s also the drugged feeling of heavy arousal. I’m almost drenched in the juices my pussy releases by his rough handling of me.

Just as suddenly he had taken me captive, he releases me and turns away to walk into the apartment.

I follow him directly to a bedroom. A huge bed is the focus of the room, and I swallow, envisioning myself naked and writhing on top of it with him ravishing my hot body.

“Take off your clothes,” he orders and moves into the bathroom.

By this time I am so aroused by the bold and easy power he wields that I don’t question him, stripping out of my top and jeans quickly, before throwing off my bra and panties too and walking over to the bed.

“Don’t get on it yet,” he says from behind me. “I want you kneeling by the edge.”

I turn around and watch him walk completely and proudly naked to the bed. His still flaccid cock stands out slightly from his body and sways as he walks. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he crooks his finger at me, signalling me to come to him.

I obey and walk over to kneel before him.

He takes his soft cock in one hand and places the other hand at the back of my head. Moving my face to him, he rubs it lightly over my lips.

I open my lips to take him in and feel his fingers bunch in my hair tightly. He wrenches my head back and bends his face down to me. My mouth opens in a soundless cry.

“Don’t do anything without my permission,” he hisses.

I swallow and nod slowly, keeping my eyes on him.

“I’ll tell you what to do, when to do it and how to do it.”

I nod again and his grip in my hair relaxes. He moves away and pulls my face in towards him again. He lightly slaps my cheeks with his semi-erect cock, rubbing the head over my soft skin. Then he pulls me in further until my nose is in the crease where his leg joins his body. I can smell his musky odour as he rubs my face against him.

“Lick,” he orders.

I slip my tongue out and slide it over his thigh. He takes my head in both his hands and manoeuvres it so that I am licking at the base of his cock, then his balls. The little curly hair on him tickle my nose and tongue. He feels salty and warm and male.

His hands press my face into him again and again, my tongue and face servicing him wherever he directs me, over and around his testicles, along his thighs, in his groin and over and above his cock. I lick everything but his growing member. Then he firmly presses my face into him and holds me there. My nose is pressed against him, firmly wedged between his cock and his leg and I can hardly breathe. My mouth is open on his thigh and I can feel his semi-hard cock against my cheek.

He holds me like that and runs a hand over the nape of my neck, gripping me and pulling me to him further. I am mashed against him and cannot breathe; I grab his legs with my hands and press, panicking.

He moves my face away then. I’ve hardly taken in a huge gulp of air before he shoves his cock into my open mouth.

“Open wide,” he says.

His meat invades my mouth and I feel the salty, slightly musty taste of him fill me. I feel my wetness running down my thighs as his cock expands in my mouth. He reaches into my mouth with two of his fingers and pulls at my lips, opening my mouth wider. Saliva pools in my mouth and dribbles down my chin as I’m unable to swallow with his cock blocking my throat.

He takes my head between both his hands then and moves me back and forth on his rapidly hardening cock. It fills my mouth until my lips and cheeks stretch around him and I gag as it bumps against the back of my throat. He just jams it in and holds me still as I work my throat and fight against my gag reflex. My eyes water and overflow instinctively as I overcome the urge to throw up. I clench my stomach and cunt as every bit of me concentrates on swallowing my impulse to retch.

Only after I have myself under control does he pull himself out of my mouth and again begins slapping my cheeks with his cock.

“You’re good, slut,” he murmurs.

As his now hard cock hovers around my face, I finally see the size it’s grown to. It’s thick and long, a magnificent object. It’s thicker and lengthier than anything I’ve ever taken in me and my pussy clenches in anticipation, mixed with apprehension. I’m afraid and aroused at the same time as I eye his monster.

“Up,” he orders as he takes me by the hair and pulls.

I scramble to my feet and am pushed roughly onto the bed.

“On your hands and knees, bitch,” he commands.

I position myself as he says. He climbs onto the bed behind me and pushes into me from behind, straddling my ass, his cock against my crack. He presses into me like that, humping my soft ass once or twice before reaching down and spreading my cheeks apart.

“Such a nice soft ass,” he mutters.

I feel something hot and wet plop into the groove between my ass cheeks, just above my asshole. He rubs his spit into me with one finger, his cock manoeuvring itself between my legs and rubbing against my wet pussy now.

I’m dripping wet and he knows it.

“Such a hot slut you are,” he whispers. “So hot and wet and eager to be fucked.”

I ache with trying to hold myself still and not reach down to guide his cock into my needy cunt. I want him; I want him so bad!

He keeps rubbing his wet fingers around the rim of my asshole while sliding his cock against me from behind. His cock is barely inside my pussy lips but I want him inside my cunt and fucking me so desperately that I am wild and panting with desire like a bitch in heat. I can think of nothing else but his hard cock teasing me and how good it would be if he just slipped it in and pounded into me, hard and fast.

“Please…” I moan.

He chuckles.

“Hot for it, are you? Such a slut.”

“Yes, yes, I’m a slut, a bitch,” I say desperately. Anything to have him in me, filling my hot cunt up.

I’m in such a state of arousal that I feel no shame as I beg him to take me.

“Please fuck me,” I request. “Please, just put your hard cock in me and fuck me hard. I need it hard and fast, I need you to fuck me. Please, now.”

He slaps my ass. One hard, sharp slap. I yelp as it stings.

“What did I tell you about asking for my permission? What did I tell you about having you as and when I please?” he asks in a silky smooth voice. “I’ll fuck you when I’m good and ready, whore, not when you want it.”

He slaps my ass again sharply.

I could cry with need and frustration. I am so aroused and wet and ready for him and the bastard is just teasing me. I reach down between my legs and feel for his cock.

Suddenly, I’m flipped around and thrown onto the bed on my back. His weight comes down on me, driving the air out of me and pinning me down. One hand grabs my wrists and holds them above my head and his other hand grabs at my breast and pinches my nipple harshly.

I cry out in pain.

“Don’t do that again,” he says, his face an inch from mine. “I won’t tolerate this and the next time, I won’t be so gentle with the punishment.”

He tweaks my nipples between thumb and forefinger hard again and squeezing my soft breast in his rough palm before letting go.

“I’m not playing,” he warns.

Fear and longing war within me again as his warning both alarms me and makes me even more aroused. I look into his eyes and see that he means what he’s saying. He will hurt me worse the next time if I don’t do exactly as he says.

My blood starts pumping harder as I slowly become aware of his hard body lying on me. His cock is stuck to the side of my thigh, wet from my juices, and his stomach and chest are crushing me to the bed. I stick my tongue out to lip my suddenly dry lips.

His eyes follow my tongue hungrily before he swoops down to my mouth in a hot, wet kiss. Little stabs of his tongue duplicate the mating ritual in my wet mouth and I moan into him, wanting more but afraid to ask for it. Instead, I enjoy this kiss and press my legs together, clenching my cunt hoping I can trigger my orgasm just by his kiss. I feel the blood rise and the pressure inside me is curling upwards but before I can channel it and harness it, he breaks off and rises up off me.

Roughly moving my legs apart, he spreads my vulva apart with his fingers and rubs my moist cunt. Then swiftly plunging two fingers deep inside me, he starts pumping my centre.

This is what I was waiting for and I close my eyes and give myself over to the sensations, pumping my hips slightly in response to his thrusting fingers. After a minute he adds a third finger to the two and fills me up quite nicely, still holding my pussy lips indecently open with one hand and plunging into me with the other. I am so aroused and ready that it only takes a minute before I feel my orgasm thundering through me. I buck and arch and writhe on the bed as it rips through me and he slows down as I ride it.

He spreads my legs wider then, lifting them up and pushing them back until my heels are up in the air and my knees touch my shoulders. My pink moist cunt is spread open lewdly as he holds me in that position and takes his time simply looking at my cunt and anus displayed for his pleasure.

“Limber too,” he mutters. “Good.”

He kneels just below me and brings my legs forward to place my calves on his shoulders. His hands reach out and fondle my nipples. Slowly he starts squeezing, harder, sharper, twisting, pulling until my breath starts to stick in my throat from the pain-pleasure of it. I am trying not to squirm and my hands take bunches of the bed sheet on either side of me and pull. I grit my teeth and moan weakly. A tear snakes down the side of my face from the intense pain.

Suddenly his hands become soft and gentle as he cups my breasts. He strokes and caresses with an open palm, lovingly touching my rounded globes. I start to relax a bit. Then just as suddenly, he slaps them, really hard. I whimper and arch up off the bed in surprise. He pushes me back down and resumes touching my breasts. Again he slaps me and this time I cry out. He pinches my nipples hard again, setting them on fire.

Three or four more slaps, followed by the pinching of my nipples and my breasts are red and sore. He runs the palms of his hands over my hard nipples, stimulating the already throbbing flesh to painful extremes.

I feel his cock touching my pussy. Just touching it. Again, I am driven almost crazy by the desire to have him inside me, filling me up and fucking me hard. Again I grit my teeth and try not to cry out my need.

I cannot help tilting my hips a little though and he notices.

“Want to be fucked, do you?” he asks softly.

‘Yes,’ I want to shout out. ‘Yes, I want you fucking me like an animal.’

But I don’t. I just bite the inside of my cheek hard and another tear slips down my face.

His hands move down to my cunt and he slides them into my slit, teasing me. It’s all I can do, all I have within me that stops me from bucking up into his hand. He rubs his hand in my wetness a little before moving to my clit. He drives the hood back and takes my sensitive clitoris in his thumb and forefinger. And squeezes savagely.

I scream.

He slaps me hard across my face.

“Shut up, bitch,” he hisses.

I am so surprised that I just stare up at him.

“Do that again and I’ll gag you,” he warns.

I take in dry gasping sobs, close my eyes and try to centre myself.

His fingers go back to my cunt. He slides my clit between his slick fingers now, gentle, exerting just that little bit of pressure. He slides fingers into me and fills me up again. I’m sighing and moaning and pleading in my head for him to fuck me. I feel his eyes on me and I know he’s enjoying seeing me like this. Spread out wantonly and entirely at his mercy. Squirming with need, like the slut he called me.

Suddenly he mashes my clit into my pelvic bone, hard. A low growl escapes my throat and I clench my pussy around his fingers. Bunching my hands into fists, I drive my nails into my hands, barely stopping myself from shouting out again.

“You learn well,” he says appreciatively.

My clitoris and cunt are screaming from the exquisite sensitivity he is putting me through. I am this close to cumming but he backs off, not moving his hands in me, just sliding a finger over my labia uninterestedly. Another tear slips down my face in an effort to keep myself from not taking control and moving my hips against him.

Slowly, he starts sliding his fingers in and out of me, prolonging the agony. His other hand is again at my clit, squeezing now gently, then hard, then rolling me between his fingers until my tortured flesh calls out for relief. His fingers in my cunt curve up against my vaginal walls and he crooks them, finding and rubbing my g-spot.

It is too much; I feel my release building in me and suddenly I am cumming, moaning and writhing and bucking into his hands at my cunt. I feel the blood pumping through my temples, throbbing at my nipples and in my cunt as he milks my clitoris and makes me ride my orgasm.

When I’m spent and limp and just lying back to recover, I feel him jostle my thigh roughly.

“Come on, slut, up,” he orders.

I open my eyes and look at him.

“On your hands and knees.”

I drag my tired body up, turn and offer my ass up to him.

He grips my hips and pulls me up into position, then parts my ass from behind, opening me up. Guiding his hard cock to my pussy, he thrusts and is halfway in me in one smooth motion.

I gasp with the feel of his cock in me. As I thought, its thickness fills me up nicely just halfway in.

He pulls it most of the way out and rams it back in. This time I can feel my pussy stretch around him and he is still not in all the way. He pulls out and thrusts again and I hold my breath trying not to cry out. Another thrust and he might just rip me apart. Yet when he finally is fully buried inside and I feel his balls flush up against me, I feel only a dull pain. He starts moving in me, pulling out almost totally and then ramming into me, filling me up uncomfortably. My stuffed cunt feels both painful and aroused at his assault.

His hands reach down to my exposed breasts hanging down from my body and he takes hold of them, one in each hand. As his huge cock fucks me mercilessly from behind, he squeezes and pinches my already tender flesh. I bite my lip between my teeth and take the abuse on my body, my pussy already sore with his ramming and my breasts starting to hurt from his handling.

He uses me like that, his thrusts getting faster and harder, and his hands getting painful on my breasts, mauling and hurting me. I take it like the bitch he called me, my arousal and pain warring with each other and flooding my cunt, sloshing as his cock spears into me again and again.

Finally, his hands on my breasts squeeze me cruelly as he reaches his climax and pours his warm hot cum deep into me. I feel his cock tremble in me and release its seed. We are stuck together by cum and sweat, and when he peels away from me, I feel every inch of him leave my battered cunt.

As he moves to sit on the edge of the bed, I curl up on the other side. He picks up his wallet, riffling through it and coming out with two Rs. 1000 notes that he turns and flings on the bed beside me.

“Get dressed. I want you out of here in five minutes,” he says.
The shock of being treated like a common whore freezes me for a minute, then my eyes flash as anger rises up and chokes me.

“How dare you?” I burst out.

“Shut up,” he says calmly. “I’m just treating you like the slut you are. Normally men buy you drinks or take you out to dinner before fucking you. I’m simply paying you for your services in cash.”

His calm statements humiliate me and I feel my face getting hot.

“You’re a piece of cunt I used for my satisfaction,” he continues. “And make no mistake, you satisfied me completely. You’re a hot bitch, there’s no doubt about that. I just don’t believe in cuddling and all that shit afterwards. I’m honest with my needs and I take care of them as and when I please.” He bends over and flicks a finger on my erect nipple. “And I will use your services again. Definitely,” he says before moving away.

Shamefully, his words and manner make me hot and I feel myself open up again, wetness seeping out of me. I scramble to pick up my clothes from around the room and dress without washing the fluids off my body. I smell of sex and I feel different places on my abused body throb and hurt as I move, putting my clothes on.

Then I bend and take his money off the bed and tuck it into my clutch.

He eyes me appreciatively and a lazy smile curls around his lips.

“You’ll do very nicely,” he murmurs. “I will call you when I next need you.”

With that I’m dismissed.

And I turn and walk away, wishing and praying that it won’t be long until the next time he calls on me to service him.
It’s been a week since I was used and discarded like a common whore by Vishal and I’ve been hoping for his phone call every day since then. I even sleep with the phone switched on for the first time in my life, so as not to miss his call if he calls during the night. It’s like I’ve turned into this needing bitch in heat by his abusing and humiliating me just that one time. I can’t explain or reason through it, it’s just something primal that makes my whole body yearn to be dominated by his silky voice and his smouldering eyes. I don’t understand what he’s done to me.

But whatever it is, it has me firmly in its grip and I’m enjoying it. I’ve masturbated so many times just thinking about that night and how he used me.

My work is suffering as I become extremely short tempered from frustration as the days go by. I snap at my cousin and roommate and we almost come to a fight a few times through the week due to my unreasonable behaviour. I try every way I know to get the sexual frustration out of my system but nothing works. So I spend my days like a caged lioness, snapping and growling at everything and everyone.

The phone call, when it comes, stokes my frustration instead of dampening it.

“Come to my place tonight, at seven,” Vishal says and hangs up.

He calls early on in the morning and the whole day, I wander around wondering what he has planned for me. I work myself up to an edge by the time seven rolls around and I knock on his door. I feel like one look from him and I’ll cum.

His eyes hold up to the promise as he answers the door and he looks me up and down. Shivers run through my frame as my pussy clenches and ecstasy runs through my veins.

“Very nice,” he comments, taking in the dress I bought just for the occasion.

It’s a classic black dress in a clingy fabric, falling over my curves to just below my knee. Coupled with black strappy heels and my hair worn loose, I know I look hot.

I walk into his apartment and pause at the threshold of the sitting room.

“Straight through to the bedroom,” he directs.

Of course. He makes it clear that I am here for one reason and one reason alone.

I walk through into the bedroom with him right behind me.

When I’m in there, I notice the thick rope on the bed and my heart starts thumping crazily. I’ve never been tied and the scene before me suddenly has me deathly afraid. I feel blood draining out of my face and I turn back to him.

“What is this?” I ask.

“I’m going to tie your breasts up,” he says calmly.

I stare at him and try to speak but nothing comes out. This is a fear of mine. Being helpless and at the mercy of someone else. I am fiercely independent and even though I like sex, every situation I get into is through my own choice. I cannot believe having that choice taken away from me.

‘But wasn’t that what happened the last time?’ a voice within me pipes up. It was so hot and satisfying and humiliating because I was obeying his every command and taking his abuse like I would die without it.

‘But that was my choice,’ I scream at the dissenting voice. It was my choice entirely to let him do anything to me. I could have up and left or screamed or fought him off anytime I wanted.

‘Who are you kidding?’ the voice replies. I face the truth. I was his slut because he made me into one and treated me like his whore. It was all his doing. I was just at his mercy and I loved it, that’s why I’m here like a needy bitch again just to take the same abuse from him.

“Strip and move into position, slut,” he says.

I peel the dress off my body and take my panties off. I wasn’t wearing a bra so I’m completely naked in seconds, but my heels remain on. I move to the edge of the bed and kneel.

He comes up behind me and picks up the rope. He runs it around my chest, just above the breasts and loops it back to run it around just under my breasts again. He does this a couple of times, tightening the bonds, making them snug but not hurting. He then runs the rope over my shoulder to between my breasts and loops it around the horizontal bands he had made. He pulls it tight and my breasts are squeezed painfully with the rope.

I clench my pussy tightly and moan.

“It hurts, please,” I whisper.

He pauses and strokes my cheek.

“It’s meant to hurt, whore,” he replies and goes back to his ministrations.

Looping the rope through the middle of the bands tightly, he again runs it back over my other shoulder and secures it in a knot in the back. Then he ties my hands behind my back together lightly, just to bar me from touching anything.

My breasts are squeezed and protruding from the bondage like two overripe squashed grapefruits but my nipples are rock hard and extended to almost an inch off my body. The constant pressure on my breasts is making me wet and horny like nothing else and I am going mad with desire.

Vishal has disappeared and I look around and then slowly bend my torso to the bed to brush one of my nipples against the bed sheet. A shock runs through my body, straight from my nipple to my cunt and I moan.

“Stop playing with yourself, bitch, or I’ll throw you on the ground and slap you senseless,” Vishal orders as he enters the room.

He comes up to me and shows me what he has in his hands. He is holding up two wooden clothespins.

I look at them in horror. If he clips those to my breasts or nipples, they will explode. My breasts are already so swollen with the slowed blood flow and the pressure and my nipples are so engorged that just a light brush earlier was enough to arouse me. If he stuck the clothespins on them, I would just burst.

I start to whimper and he smiles, looking deep into my eyes.

“Oh, yes, this will be fun,” he says.

He reaches, slowly, to my nipple, prolonging my dread and then gently clips the clothespin to the protruding stub. I start sobbing from the pain. He clips the other one to the other nipple and moves back, looking at me critically.

“Pretty,” he pronounces.

He advances a finger and flicks the clothespins, tweaking my nipples painfully.

I cry out.

“Come on now. No reason to cry,” he says and traces a finger over my swollen breast. “How will you take the rest if you start crying now itself,” he asks softly, menacingly.

Fear and helpless tears fill my eyes as I look at him, but down between my legs, I feel my juices flowing profusely. I can’t deny that I am shamelessly aroused by his power and control over me. I have never been on edge like this for so long before in my life and as his fingers wander over my bloated breast lightly, I feel like I can cum just from the feeling lone.

Suddenly he gives me a sharp slap on my breast.

I struggle to hold my cry in but it escapes from between my lips in a long low animalistic sound and dissolves into small sobs as his hands go back to caressing me. Tears are running down my face by this time.

He reaches out and puts a couple of fingers in my mouth, running them around and brushing my gums. Opening my mouth wide, he pumps them in and out a few times and then pulls my lips out, holding them between his fingers. I am entirely at his mercy.

He grabs the rope between my breasts and pulls.

“Walk,” he orders.

I walk on my knees as he leads me to the other side of the bed and sits down on the edge. He holds my upper arms and orders me to get up. When I’m standing, he pulls me down to position me over his lap carefully, facedown.

I’m lying with my bound breasts hanging down and the position causes the pain in them to intensify. I can feel them inflated and full and ready to burst.

His hard cock is pressing against my stomach and he’s running his hands over my exposed bottom.

“I’m going to spank you, whore,” he says softly. “First, with my bare hand….”

He brings his palm down with a sharp smack on my ass cheek.

I bite my lip as arousal fills me and mixes with the blood pounding through the temples of my hanging head.

“…then, when I’ve got the shape of my fingers imprinted on this pretty plump bottom…”

Slap!

“…I will shift to something a little more…”

Slap!

“…painful.”

God! What could be more painful? More than his actions, he’s fucking with my mind. Fear, anticipation and a little bit of anger run through me simultaneously. But uppermost in my mind is the awareness of every part of my throbbing and ready traitorous body and my shameful arousal to his humiliation and abuse. He has me where he wants me… and I’m panting with need and want for more of the same.

He’s gently stroking his hand over my bottom now, murmuring softly.

“I love submissive bitches like you who crave sex. You want to be fucked hard, hmmm?”

His hand is now seeking between my ass cheeks, spreading them and dipping in to finger my pussy. It is so hot and wet for his hand but I know not to thrust myself at him greedily, because that will mean punishment. Oh yes, he has trained me well.

His fingers are now probing at my pussy lips, spreading them and slipping in. he rubs a couple of fingers against my wetness, just lazily spreading the wetness around.

“So wet,” he says. “So ready to be fucked.”

Suddenly he pulls his fingers out and rains down a series of sharp wet smacks all across my ass. His other hand finds the clothespin on one of my swinging breasts and wrenches it off.

I scream.

He pushes my legs apart, spreads my cunt and inserts three of his fingers into me harshly. He plunders my soft pussy, running his fingers in and roughly, in an effort to hurt me.

“Don’t scream, bitch, or I’ll gag you. I already told you that the last time you were making some noise, didn’t I?” he grunts harshly.

His fingers are sending a painful fire up the soft walls of my vagina.

“Yes, yes, you told me… I’m sorry I screamed. I won’t do it again, I swear,” I plead. Anything to get his hand out of my burning cunt.

The ravaging inside me slows and stops. He pulls his hand out and starts pinching my butt. His digs his nails in to scour my soft flesh and kneads it severely. When my ass is sore and aching from his assault, only then does he stop and run his palm gently over my burning flesh.

“Such a pretty blush you have here, whore,” he says softly. “Beautiful.”

Then he leans forward and I feel myself shift in his lap. My bound breasts feel the pain as my position changes and I bite back a moan. He settles back down then I am back again as before, lying bottom up across him.

I feel a hard nubby flat surface sliding across my burning ass.

“Do you know what this is?” asks his silky voice.

I just whimper. I know the promise of spanking me with something ‘more painful’ is going to be realized now and I am trembling with the effort to guess what he holds in his hand and how painful it will be on my already bruised posterior.

His hand snakes out and brings the object in front of my face.

Dear God. It’s a table tennis paddle.

Fresh sobs are wrenched from within me as I fear for my bottom. Forget sitting on it, I will not be able to walk home without wincing by the time he’s done. The thought both terrifies me and I yearn for the pain and pleasure that I know it will bring. I can’t seem to stop sobbing though.

He moves it away from my view and brings it down. Hard.

Even though I’m expecting it, I can’t help letting out a guttural moan. The sobs intensify. My pussy is flooded and leaking down my thighs. I have the most absurd urge to pee, and I struggle to hold it in.

“Like it, girl?” he asks, waiting for my answer.

I simply sob, unsure what the correct answer is. Am I supposed to like this or not?

“Answer me when I ask you something,” he demands, savagely hitting the paddle across my bottom two, three, four times.

“Yes, yes, oh please, yes, I like it,” I cry out.

“Good. Remember that,” he says, “Reply when I ask you something.”

“Yes, Vishal.”

The paddle resumes its merciless attack on me, running down to my thighs and back up to my bottom a few times before he stops and throws it away. He then spreads my hot burning ass cheeks and fingers my puckered anus.

“Have you ever had anyone up your ass?” he asks.

I immediately nod and reply, “Yes.”

“Dirty shameless bitch,” he says. “Been fucked every which way, have you?”

His finger leaves my tight ring, but is back in an instant. He has wet it and I feel it poking at me. I hold my breath, concentrating on relaxing my sphincter. Surely he won’t fuck me there without lubing me up? His finger slips past my tightness, into me and he wriggles it in as far as it can go, beyond his knuckle.

Suddenly he pulls it out and is ordering me and pulling at my prone body to get up. When I’m standing before him, he pulls off the clothespin from my other breast and I feel the blood rushing back into my painful breasts first with the change in position, then with the clothespin off.

“Come, face down on the bed,” he orders.

No.

I cannot.

I cannot lie down on the bed with my tied breasts under me. My mind refuses to accept it. It would be too painful.

“Are you waiting for me to beat you into it?” he asks calmly.

My mind snaps back into reality and know it’s not an idle threat. Either way, he’ll have me on the bed as he wants me. The question is whether I will do it myself or will he make me do it.

The decision is an easy one.

I move towards the bed and try to gently lean my upper body forward.

He gives me a shove and I fall facedown, my breasts crushed beneath me. The pain is like I’ve never had. I bury my face in the mattress and let out a howl, closing my mouth into the sheet and the bed as the pain runs through my breasts to my cunt, changing from pure pain to pure pleasure on the way.

His hands are at my ass cheeks, spreading them wide apart. I feel something cold and slippery in the groove between it before he rubs it in. Lube. Thank God! I feel him opening me and pushing some lube inside me too and then there’s his hard cock at my entrance and he pushes and before I can prepare myself, his hardness overcomes my resistance and I feel his cock head slide in.

I bite down on the mattress harder.

He holds like that for what seems like ages, his head just in, simply prolonging the pain and agony until I feel like I’ll go mad if I don’t scream and plead with him to just please go on with it, just enter me and start fucking me up my asshole. Then he is moving, pushing and I feel his huge cock being forced into my tightness.

Yes, I’ve had anal sex but his cock is the thickest I’ve taken even in my pussy and this invasion in my tight ass feels like it will tear me apart. The burning I feel when his hot cock spears me feels like I am being ripped open and eviscerated from the inside out. A part of my mind wonders if there’s blood.

His cock just keeps entering.

When he is finally buried into me fully, he stops and slaps my ass a few times, turning the agony into a sweet dull pain that pulses through me and comes to concentrate in my clit. I feel it engorged and throbbing with every beat of my heart.

He withdraws partially then and begins pounding into me. This is a different kind of pain. Like my ass is being stabbed and drilled into until my world is reduced to the here and now, the abuse and exploitation, the in and out, the pain and pleasure. My bound breasts are being jostled so painfully that I feel like they’re going to burst any moment and the bed will be drenched with my crimson blood pouring out of them any minute.

And all through this, I am shamefully, powerfully aroused like I have never been before.

He fucks my ass like a mad man, fast and rough and grunting and hurting. Then he is groaning and I feel him shoot his warm cum deep within my ass as he slows and finally stops thrusting, his body coming to rest, his cock still twitching inside me.

After a while he pulls out and pulls me up by the ropes I am bound with. He unwraps me like a present and I feel the blood rushing into the indentations where the rope had been and my sobbing intensifies as I stand in front of him, crying my eyes out.

He winds the rope off me without comment or expression and throws it away. He reaches for his wallet then, drawing the same couple of Rs. 1000 bills as the last time and throws them down on the bed.

“Get dressed and out of here in five,” orders and lights up a cigarette.

I don’t believe it. I still ache for him. I’m throbbing between my legs and I am so aroused and frustrated while he has taken his pleasure and discarded me.

“Vishal, I’m still… I don’t… I want…”

“Save it for your fuckbuddies who care, slut. I’m not interested in what you want. Now, out.”

I clench my teeth hard and try not to burst into tears.

“Oh, and leave your panties here. I want you bare-assed when you crawl back home to lick your wounds, whore. That is, if you get there before succumbing and clawing at your needy cunt in the car itself,” he chuckles.

The anger and pride makes me move. I won’t beg and plead. My face burns from the shame and fury warring within me.

I put on my dress from where it’s lying on the bed and pick up the money, stowing it away in my purse. My heels had never been taken off. I try to finger-comb my hair and rub the tear trails off my face in an attempt at some decency. I have no idea how I look and I could hardly care.

“When will you call me?” I ask when I’m ready to leave.

“When I feel like your cunt again.”

I leave on wobbly legs, my whole body screaming in agony as my dress rubs against my sore breasts and ass.

He’s right. As soon as my butt touches the leather of my car seat and screams from the pain of sitting on it, I dig my fingers into my pussy and frisk myself to a thundering orgasm.

And when I gather myself from the gooey aftermath and am able to drive, I go home and wait for him to call.
By now I’m accustomed to being summoned by Vishal’s phone call. I know enough not to call him, he will contact me when he has need of me. But maybe ‘need’ is not quite the word. He doesn’t need me, he just uses me and then discards me whenever he fancies.

My days are filed with the anticipation of when he will contact me and when I’ll go to him again. It’s the same pattern as last time. I can think of nothing else but him, his control over me and my explosive desire to his ministrations. I can concentrate on nothing else but the thoughts of his roughness with me. It’s like a drug. And I know I’m addicted.

Vishal calls me in the middle of a meeting at work. I see my phone vibrating silently and his name flashing on the screen. My mind scrambles for an excuse, any excuse, to get out of the meeting and take his call. I absolutely cannot miss it! In the rush from the room, I don’t even know what I murmur and barely register the dazed look of my boss as I flee from the room.

“Hello?” I whisper, answering the phone even before the door to the meeting room has closed behind me.

“Tonight at eight,” he says. His warm voice fills my ear.

“Your place?” I ask him, ashamed at jumping as soon as he beckons. But I can’t help it.

“Yes. Don’t be late,” he says and hangs up.

I know I cannot afford to be.

The rest of the day passes by in a blur. I’m already with him mentally and my boss lets me leave a half hour early in a fit of disgust when he sees I’m of no use. I try to make an excuse about some family issue but he waves it away and I’m out.

I reach home in record time and begin preparing myself for Vishal. I wash my hair with my favourite lemon-scented shampoo and then take a leisurely shower, soaping my body liberally and letting the warm water run over my tingling body. I shave my legs and pussy carefully, but take care not to touch myself otherwise. I let the anticipation build as I know the release will be that much stronger if I can keep going until he gets me off.

I deliberate over what to wear. Most of my wardrobe lands up over the bed as I pick out outfits and then discard them as unsuitable. I finally settle on a white silk button down shirt and my red skirt that falls just under my knee. The shirt is fine enough that you can see my white lacy bra through it. On my feet are strappy heels. I wear my hair loose and only swipe a bright red shade of lipstick and mascara as make up. It’s a classic come fuck me get up and I feel sexy and desirable as I dab a bit of perfume between my breasts and on my wrists.

As I’m done dressing, I take a look at the clock and see that it’s a full hour before I can leave the house for the drive down to his. In my anticipation, I’ve rushed through the preparations. I briefly debate whether to turn up early or to even call him to say I can be there earlier than he wanted, but then something in me tells me that it will not be welcome. I remember other instances where my effort to direct our encounters was met with punishment, and I resign myself to just waiting the extra time.

Prowling around the house impatiently, riffling through a couple of magazines and fiddling with inane programs on the television, I finally pass that wretched hour and when I’m ready to go, feel a wonderful anticipation curling in my belly. It takes me a half hour to drive down to his house.

When he answers the door, I notice his hair is curly and wet from a shower and he just has slacks on, leaving his chest bare. He nods at me and opens the door wider, knowing that I know what to do. I walk straight to his bedroom and get down on my knees at the edge of the bed.

“Very nice,” he says in a low voice. “I’ve trained you well.”

He moves in from behind me, takes a seat on the bed and trails a hand over my hair, moving it over the side of my face, coming to rest it on my neck, propping my chin up with his thumb. He looks into my eyes as his eyes register approval.

“Nice,” he says again, this time referring to my appearance.

He then slashes a hand across my lips, smearing my perfectly applied blood red lipstick across my face.

“Too much perfection,” he says. “I like things broken, in pain.”

That sentence ratchets up my heartbeat and I remember what he has put me through in previous sessions. My eyes dart around the room, trying to spy what he has in store for me this time. But as much as I try, I cannot see any implement of torture. No ropes, no paddles and no clothespins.

He chuckles. “What are you looking for?” he asks in a silky voice.

“I… nothing… just for…”

“Yes? For what?”

“Vishal, I just wanted to see whether… I mean… for what I’m expected to do,” I stammer.

“Ah,” he says and leans back. “You’re looking to see what I’ve planned for you today.”

I nod and gulp.

“Don’t worry, there won’t be anything extra needed today. Just my hands,” he says.

The words sound comforting but the look in his eyes stops me from giving up my nervous expectation completely. I know how he can be. I know he thrives on pain and humiliation. Whatever he has planned, whether with or without any objects of torture, will be his own brand of punishment.

He orders me to strip and get on the bed on all fours. When I am in position, he comes up behind me and positions himself snug against my bottom. His cock is perfectly aligned between my butt cheeks as he leans forward and grabs my hanging breasts. Squeezing both of them in his palms, he pulls me back. I move with the pull, pushing my ass more definitely into his crotch and grinding into him for good measure.

“Only what I instruct you to do, bitch. Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he growls in my ear as his fingers tweak my nipples painfully. “Did you forget the lessons?”

“No, God, no, sorry,” I say hurriedly, biting down a cry from the treatment of his harsh fingers. “Please, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again,” I plead.

“Good, remember that,” he says.

His hands continue to pull on my nipples. He pulls them out as much as he can from my body, holding them there and rotating them, twisting them cruelly. After a while of this torture, he brings his hands to cup my breasts and begins kneading them. He takes handfuls of my soft mounds and squeezes them like they are stress balls and he is trying to get a world’s worth of frustration and anger out on them.

In no time at all, I feel them turning tender and bruised by his unforgiving massage and they begin to hurt and throb to his every touch. I feel the tears start at the back of my eyes and make no effort to stop them. One makes a trail as it slips down my nose and then drips off on the bed below me. I have my teeth clenched in order not to cry out as his hands become harder, if possible, and he is now squeezing my tender breasts mercilessly.

Just when I feel like I can’t stop myself from crying out for him to stop, he starts to slow down and just cups my breasts. I feel him start humping me from behind. His cock is hard now and is sliding against the crack of my ass as he moves.

“Last time I didn’t make you cum,” he grunts into my ear.

I don’t know whether to respond or just listen to him. I make a noncommittal noise.

“This time, I will,” he continues.

My mind goes to work trying to figure out how he is going to accomplish that. Is he just going to fuck me from behind? That seems uncharacteristic of him but maybe he just wants to get off. Maybe once in a while he just wants straight sex without any pain to accompany it. I’m sure I’m going to be humiliated and paid for my services at the end of it though, that has been a constant, but maybe this time there won’t be any discomfort or soreness for days afterwards.

“On your back,” he commands suddenly.

I flip and land on my back in the middle of his bed, my head on the soft pillow.

He looks at me one moment and his brow furrows. “Maybe it would be better with you sitting up a bit,” he says almost to himself.

I start sitting up and he pushes me back against the headboard. I land up in a position so that my shoulders are resting against the end but my hips are pushed forward about a foot from the edge of the bed. He then bends my legs and pulls my raised knees open and wide so that my pussy is gaping and vulnerably open to him.

I feel a hint of shame accompanied by a frisson of excitement pass through me. I feel wanton and exposed at the same time.

Vishal scoots over to a position between my spread legs, directly in front of me and touches my pussy gently. His fingers press lightly as he delves into my slit and slides them across, almost lazily. I’m wet through already from the excitement of waiting for this most of the day and his fingers just spread my warm wetness over my pussy.

Just when I’ve been lulled into a sense of drugged expectancy, he pinches one pussy lip and pulls on it, hard. I gasp and try to remain still, to not move with the pull. He twists cruelly and duplicates the move on the other side as I take my lower lip between my teeth in order to hold back a cry from the pain.

“So wet and rosy,” he says, staring at my wide open pussy.

I feel him enter me then. Two fingers slide deep inside me until I can feel them buried up to their length. He plunges them in and out for a few minutes and I close my eyes and revel in the sensations. His other hand pinches my tender nipple and I feel the spiral of pleasure build until I feel an orgasm within reach. But before it can wash over me, he pulls out.

I almost cry out my disappointment but stop myself just in time. It won’t do to beg or plead. He enjoys keeping me wanting. It’s a part of his humiliation.

The next instant, I feel his fingers trying to enter me again and I move myself just a bit to accommodate him. There are more than two this time, and as he pushes into me, I realise what he is doing.

I open my eyes in panic and look down. I’m right.

Vishal has all five of his fingers straight and pressed close together and it is this that he is inserting into me.

I press my lips close together as his fingers disappear up to the knuckles. A sob wells up in my throat in apprehension. I have never been fisted before. I feel tears threatening at the back of my throat and start to move my hips back ever so slightly.

He’ll have none of it. “Stay still,” he orders.

“Please…” I whisper.

He stops inserting his fingers into me and looks up into my eyes. “What?”

I gulp nervously. “I’ve never had… that… done to me.”

He smiles nastily. “So?” he asks, silkily.

My mouth is suddenly dry and I try to moisten my lips. I’m about to burst out crying. I cannot even imagine the pain that comes with inserting something that huge into my vagina. The thickest thing I’ve had in there before this is Vishal’s cock, and it’s about half the size of his fist. Taking his cock in proved to be a little painful in itself, but now this… I can’t even imagine.

“Please,” I say again, trying to tell him I cannot have that in me, I will rip apart, but not having the courage to say it in case he punishes me with something worse.

“Save it for someone who’ll listen to your whingeing, whore,” he says.

He pushes his fingers deeper into me and I feel the middle joints slide in. I begin sobbing in earnest now. I’m afraid. The pain has started and I feel like my pussy cannot expand anymore. His hand is not even halfway in. The pressure continues and I feel him opening me up even more, beyond what I feel is comfortable, beyond stretching as much as I can bear, pleasure slipping into pain into agony as he continues the assault.

I’m trying to struggle back on the bed now but he follows me and I can move no more when I feel the headboard against my back.

When I feel stretched almost beyond endurance, I feel something wedge up against me. It is the base of his fingers. A part of me can hardly believe he has that much of his hand already inside me, but a larger part is screaming about what is to come. I’m almost incoherent with agony and tears are running down my face freely now. Sobs rack my body.

A last push and his entire hand slides into me. I can’t help but let out a little yelp as my control slips. My cunt is engorged beyond belief, burning unbearably from the assault.

“Vishal, please, no… please,” I beg between sobs.

I am now in too much pain to even think about what he will do to me if I plead with him to show mercy. My entire being is concentrated in my cunt gaping open beyond what it can take. It’s aflame. Nothing, absolutely nothing, can hurt more than this.

But I’m wrong.

Vishal moves his hand a bit; withdrawing the barest amount and pushing it back in. The burning intensifies and I feel like something down there is ripped. Somewhere at the back of my brain, I wonder if I’m bleeding on his sheets. My chest is tight from the sobs that are racking my entire frame and my breath comes in shallow gasps from trying to hold it in so that I don’t scream out in agony. I bunch my fists around the sheets on his bed on either side of me and grit my teeth as a primeval growl escapes me.

His hand continues moving in and out slowly, and a low reverberation from my throat accompanies it. My hoarse voice follows his every movement. My parched throat needs water. Sweat pops out on my brow and on my upper lip as I give myself to the brutal fucking. Every nerve in my body is concentrated upon what’s happening in my cunt.

“Look at me,” Vishal commands.

My sightless gaze locks in on him and focuses. His eyes are glittering with excitement while my very insides feel like they are being churned by his punishing intrusion.

I don’t know how I take the next few minutes. With my legs spread open and his hand inside me, I am literally fucked senseless. My world is reduced to what is happening to me. The in and out of his hand has me hanging on to his every motion as I remain as still as I can be, as if by holding myself still the pain will be any less.

Slowly but surely, to my utter disbelief, I feel pleasure collecting in the base of my stomach as the fisting continues. I stare into his eyes and let myself go, accepting the sensations. My stuffed cunt and the shameless way I’m spread before him registers in my mind as my arousal is stoked by what he is doing to me and my utter helplessness. I feel it build as he fucks me. I feel it rise as I grunt to his motions, as I’m fucked roughly, filled like never before.

I come, my body and being breaking into a thousand tiny parts, all suffused with the pain pleasure of it all, separating and coalescing into tiny shards of pure ecstasy, then coming together to hold me in suspension over the whirlwind ripping through my body. I can’t breathe. I feel a blackness enfolding me as a cry tears itself out of my throat.

When I come to, Vishal’s hand is still in me and he is looking into my eyes with a frown, calling to me softly.

I blink and focus on him. Taking a shuddering breath, I give in to the gulping sobs that overwhelm me.

He figures I’m okay and slides his hand out of me. The withdrawal hurts almost as much as when he was forcing it into me and since I am not ready for it, a shout escapes my lips.

“Shut up,” he says harshly.

I try to muffle my sobs and tell myself it’s over.

“Up on your hands and knees, bitch,” he orders.

Tears flow down my face as I drag my tired body into position. Even though I haven’t moved through it all, I feel like all the energy has been wrung out of me by the tense way I was holding myself all through the brutal fuck.

Vishal enters me from behind. My sore cunt hurts as his cock slides in, but I take it without complaint. The worst is over. This is nothing compared to what I have just been through.

He fucks me hard and fast, holding on to my waist and pounding into me from behind. This is a different kind of pain, almost a numbing kind. My breath leaves me with every vicious thrust of his thick cock into my cunt. His hips pound into me wildly and unmercifully until finally he is moaning his pleasure as he empties his cum into me.

As his cock leaves me with a wet sound, I drop down onto the bed, curling in on myself. I have never been used like this. Not even through all the humiliation and pain Vishal put me through before. The tying and the spanking is nothing compared to this. I feel like I have been hollowed out from the inside. My pussy still throbs with pain in time to every beat of my heart.

I feel Vishal leaving the bed and then hear a few sounds that indicate he is putting clothes on.

“What are you waiting for?” he asks me even before a minute has passed.

I look up at him towering over me. I know I need to leave. It has been like that every time. But I can’t make my limbs move.

“Get up and out of here, bitch,” he says. “Now.”

Tears pool in my eyes as I heave my pitiful, bruised body off the bed. I move carefully, and as I stand up, I can hardly walk. Each step hurts my tender cunt. I’m afraid to even see what condition my battered pussy is in.

Vishal rifles through his wallet and throws bills on the bed. “Here,” he says, “an extra thousand today. You were good. Satisfied my kinks perfectly.”

I’m used to the humiliating payoff and gather the currency, stuffing it into my purse. I bend to pick up my clothes, flinching with pain, and dress up as rapidly as I can. I rub my face clear of the tear trails as best as I can and move to the door.

Vishal’s voice follows me as I step out the door. “Till next time, whore.”
It has been almost a month. Twenty-eight days. Twenty-eight excruciating days since the last time Vishal had me. I’ve been almost out of my mind. The first few days passed in nervous anticipation. Then I began to feel a little apprehensive, thinking about whether he lost interest in me. And now, finally, my thoughts can barely move away from him. I find myself jittery and anxious all the time, wondering about when he would call me.

Because I can’t call him.

Of course, I have his number, even his address. But I can’t call him or go to him. He has made it extremely clear that I am his whore and am for his pleasure, not the other way around. So what I want and what I need are not of importance to him.

I curl my hands into fists in frustration what seems like the hundredth time that day and grind my teeth. I need him to call. I can’t take any more of this.

The past week, I have even taken the long way back home from work, driving in front of his house a few times in the hope of catching him going in or exiting the building. But no luck. I haven’t seen him since the last time I went to him.

I finger myself to sleep every night alone in my bed. My usual haunts have turned pale and the usual fuckbuddies I have are no comparison to Vishal. I’m addicted. Gone beyond help now. Nothing will satisfy me but his domination.

I daydream about him more and more as the day goes by. His derisive looks, his hard hands, his dark hair with the one curl that flops into his eyes… and I am wet. Just like that. And I haven’t even started replaying our past encounters. That’s the hold he has on me.

That’s it. That’s too much. I grit my teeth and curse him again for making me wait like this. For making me want and need and almost melt in my eagerness to have him. I’m going insane. So I decide to go to him myself, whatever the consequences.

I wear the sexiest clothes I own. Maybe if he’s turned on by my appearance he won’t be too hard on me? The black leather miniskirt, with heels, makes my legs look longer and the red silky sleeveless blouse frames my breasts in a way that makes them pop out. My underwear is all black lace.

At his building, I hesitate and sit in the car for a bit, wondering if this is a mistake. I know I’m in for a painful, humiliating time. But just how painful and how humiliating will it be? He cannot be worse than last time, can he? No, nothing can be worse than the fisting that Vishal had subjected me to when we were together last. Can I take that again? I think for a few minutes but the wetness of my pussy and the throbbing of my clit makes me leave my fear in the back seat as I open the door and step out.

My decision made, I walk in, go up to his floor and ring the doorbell.

Vishal opens the door.

There is no surprise in his eyes as he looks at me. He raises his eyebrows scornfully and looks me up and down.

“Yes?” he asks, holding the door half open and blocking it with his body.

I gulp to wet my suddenly dry throat. Whatever I had imagined when confronting him, it wasn’t this. I had imagined him being angry, surprised, maybe even contemptuous. But not this. I hadn’t imagined him simply refusing to let me enter, and going so far as to not recognize me.

“Vishal?” I say hesitantly. I actually don’t know how to respond.

He just looks at me.

“Who is it?” asks a male voice from behind him.

Oh! He has guests. That explains it! I feel my face getting hot. I come running to him like a slut who needs to get abused in my barest need and now I am in an awkward position. So is he. No wonder he is refusing to recognize me. Who would recognize a girl dressed like a whore on their doorstep?

Vishal turns his head away from me and says, “No one.”

That’s right, I think. I’m no one to him. Why did I have this stupid brainwave? Why didn’t I just wait like the whore I was until he summoned me? Why did I have to show up on his doorstep dressed like this?

My hand flies to cover my mouth in embarrassment and I start backing away. “Sorry,” I mumble.

“Actually, now that you’re here….”

I stop.

Vishal eyes me from top to bottom again. He opens the door wider and steps aside. “Come in.”

I stare at him in confusion. “But, what about….”

He shrugs, waiting.

I slowly walk past him through the door through the hallway into his living room. Immediately, my eyes are drawn to the lone person in the room. He is tall and thin, with dark hair and darker eyes. He has a drink in his hand and is looking right at me.

“Who do we have here?” he says as I step into the sunken area of the living room.

I give him a small smile as I wait for Vishal to introduce us. He doesn’t disappoint.

Coming up behind me, he slips a hand around my waist. “This is Sandeep,” he says, and then turning to me, looking right into my eyes, he continues, “And Sandeep, this is my whore.”

For a second, I think I haven’t heard him correctly, then my face heats up as I realize he has said what I heard. He just introduced me to his friend as his whore. I feel myself blushing in part anger, part humiliation at this insult.

“Is she now?” Sandeep says.

As I turn to face him, I see his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Quite a looker,” he says. “Where did you find her?”

“Oh, some nightclub,” Vishal replies offhandedly.

I don’t know what to say. What can be said after such an introduction?

Vishal continues speaking. “And usually I call her when I want her, take what I need from her and she leaves. She’s just for satisfying my needs. But today…” he trails a hand up my arm, “Today she has come looking for me.”

My gaze is fixed on Sandeep. The amusement in his eyes has spread to a small smile on his lips. He’s looking at me like he can’t wait to see my reaction to Vishal’s words.

But I can’t react. I can’t speak and I can’t even move. If I hold myself still, this absurdly embarrassing scene will go away. I’ll wake up and all this will be just a bad dream.

“Looks like she needs it bad,” Sandeep says, his eyes never leaving mine.

And that is what jolts me from my suspended reality. My gaze drops, unable to look at the amusement now being replaced by raw, pure hunger.

“I guess,” Vishal answers. His grip tightens on my upper arm. “Do you?”

I find my voice. “Vishal, I… maybe I came at the wrong time. I’m sorry.”

Both men share a look.

“Did she come at the wrong time, Sandeep?” Vishal asks.

“No! Of course not.”

“There. Sandeep doesn’t think it’s the wrong time,” Vishal says while ushering me towards the sofa. “Sit,” he instructs.

I sit. I feel awkward. And exposed. And so, so embarrassed. But I tried to excuse myself and it didn’t work, so I obey him. I know what results in disobedience.

My skirt hikes up a bit as I sit and I nervously try to pull it lower over my thighs. I realize it really is very short and it’s not very polite attire for meeting someone for the first time in such an environment. Perhaps would be okay for a nightclub. In fact, I regularly wear this to clubs, but in this room with two males ogling at me and one of them that I’ve just met, I feel almost naked.

Vishal chuckles at my nervous movement. “I see you’re dressed to play.”

I say nothing.

He comes and sits down next to me. “So we’ll play,” he says smoothly, next to my ear.

I shiver as he leans me against the back of the sofa and cups my breast. My mind skitters off in panic mode. Will he just have me here? Like this? Instinctively, I try to move away from his hand.

“Relax,” Vishal says. “Sandeep and I go back a long way.”

“We do,” Sandeep agrees.

“So there’s no need to be uncooperative here.”

“Or maybe it will be more fun if she’s uncooperative,” adds Sandeep.

I turn to look at him and see that he is eyeing me like a jungle cat eyes prey. I feel like I’m at his mercy. The reality is that I am theirs to do with as they please. I realize that I made a mistake coming here. I should never have let myself be overwhelmed by need like that. Now I’m trapped.

Vishal’s hand starts getting more insistent on my breast. He is kneading it now. Hard.

I bite the inside of my lip and try one more time. “Vishal, please, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come here. I’ll just… please… I can go and come back another time. When you call me.”

It’s Sandeep who answers. “Now, no need for that. Why should your plans be interrupted just because I’m here?”

“Right,” Vishal says and tweaks my nipple.

I bite back the moan that escapes my throat.

Sandeep throws back his drink in one smooth motion, and leaving his cup on the table between us, comes to sit on my other side. “There’s no need to be concerned about me,” he says. “We can work with this just fine.”

With that Sandeep covers my other breast with his hand and starts massaging it.

It is then that I fully realize what I got myself into. They are both going to fuck me. Part of me shivers in anticipation at this and part of me fears it. With Vishal, I know it’s never going to be as simple as just fucking.

Vishal’s hand drops from my breast as he leans back and looks at me.

“Strip,” he commands.

I pause only momentarily before starting to peel my blouse off. Crisscrossing my hands at the waist, I slide it upwards, exposing myself to them.

Sandeep moves away too and begins to watch.

“Stand up and face us,” Vishal says.

I obey. In position, I open the zipper on the side of my skirt and push it down, then off. I am now standing in my lacy underwear and heels in front of them.

“All of it,” Vishal says as I hesitate.

There is nothing I can do but go for it. I move my hands to my back, unhook the clasp of my bra and let it fall away.

Both their eyes are fixed on my exposed breasts.

Then I hook my fingers on either side in the waistband of my panties and peel the last layer of my clothing off me. A moment of shame makes me flutter my hands in front of my breasts, but I realize that’s not helping anything.

“These too?” I ask in a small voice, gesturing at my heels.

“No, let those be,” says Vishal.

“How about a catwalk?” Sandeep suggests.

Vishal smiles. “Of course.” He looks at me. “Walk,” he orders.

And I do. I walk back in forth in front of them, naked, swinging my hips in my high heels.

Vishal opens his pants and pulls out his cock he watches. It is semi-hard already.

After a moment, Sandeep does the same and I glance at his cock curiously. With his hands stroking it, I cannot make out the size.

Vishal catches me watching.

“Come here,” he says, extending his hand.

I walk towards him and am directed to kneel before the sofa, between the two men.

“She’s a curious bitch,” says Vishal. “I saw her trying to get a good look at your equipment. Let’s show her a close-up, shall we?”

He pushes my head towards Sandeep’s lap and I find myself moving close enough to take his cock in my mouth. That’s exactly where it is guided. I open my mouth and find it filled with the semi-hard member. Sandeep’s hand settles behind my head and pushes me down onto himself so that his cock is buried up to me till the base, where his hand is holding it.

“That’s better than looking,” Vishal says, his voice laced with amusement.

My mouth stuffed, I breathe through my nose and stay still, trying to let them lead the action.

“Suck, bitch,” Vishal says.

I immediately get my hand around Sandeep’s cock and use my tongue and lips to start blowing him.

“You have her trained well,” Sandeep says appreciatively.

“She learns, but with some punishment,” Vishal replies.

I feel a sharp slap on my exposed bottom to go along with his words. I try not to wince with Sandeep’s cock in my mouth. The slaps continue as I keep bobbing my head up and down, all around Sandeep’s cock. I moan around his member when the sting gets too much and I feel my ass start to smart from the spanking. The blows keep coming, alternating butt cheeks sometimes, and other times just concentrating on one side. My ass is raw and flaming by the time I feel Vishal’s energy flagging. And my pussy is drenched.

The cock in my mouth is fully erect and I gauge its length and girth. Not as thick as Vishal’s; his cock had stretched my lips around its size. But definitely longer. I gag a couple of times as it hits the back of my throat, but I know to stop would be to invite more punishment so I swallow the gag reflex and keep blowing him.

Finally I feel Vishal stop the spanking. He comes to sit beside Sandeep and I stop the blowjob and see he is naked from the waist down. The end of the t-shirt he is wearing rests on the base of his erect cock.

“Who told you to stop?” he asks.

“Let her have your monster now,” Sandeep says. “I’m going to enjoy other things.”

I move to Vishal’s lap and take his magnificent shaft in my hands. My hand cannot go around it. I place my mouth at the tip and slide him in slowly. I’m rewarded with a sigh.

A slap on my tender ass makes me yelp. No! He can’t. It is already too battered! My eyes widen in panic as another slap stings my bruised flesh and Vishal forces me down on his cock. My mouth effectively sealed, the spanking continues where Vishal left off, hurting even more on my already aching bottom.

I serve them again in the same way, with their positions reversed. My lips stretch around Vishal’s cock as I bob up and down. He fills my mouth like nothing else. As his cock slowly grows through my assistance, I feel like I can’t be stretched anymore. My saliva starts to leak out the sides of my mouth and coats his cock. I spread it with my hand and jerk him off while blowing him.

Finally I feel Sandeep’s rhythm slowing as the strikes slowly wind down and stop.

A moment later, I feel his hands on my breasts. He starts kneading them quite hard from behind, occasionally pinching my nipples and squeezing them. From this harsh handling, my breasts start to feel tender in a short while. They start to hurt and I moan out my pain and pleasure around Vishal’s cock.

This torture goes on for the longest time, until I feel my nipples start to burn, aflame at the slightest brush. Tears start to gather in my eyes from the roughness and just when I feel like I will stop what I am doing to protest, Sandeep moves away from behind me.

“Get up,” Vishal says.

I obey instantly. His cock slides out of my mouth and I scramble to stand up.

He pulls me down until I am partly lying on the sofa with my legs towards him. He pulls me towards himself, parting my legs to get access to my pussy. It is dripping wet. As he opens my legs wide and touches me there, I feel more of my juices being released and a shiver of pleasure and shame passes over me.

Sandeep comes alongside me and manoeuvres my head until I am facing him, then he slips his cock into my mouth. As he fucks my mouth, Vishal fucks my cunt, two of his fingers sliding into me and pumping deeply into my wet folds.

The erotic experience of being fucked by two men heightens my desire and I climb towards my orgasm. The two keep thrusting, one in my mouth and one in my cunt, going faster and faster, the experience churning the liquid desire in my veins and in my stomach as in a burst of pure elation, I come, my pussy spasming around Vishal’s hard fingers in me.

My whole body goes limp and both men stop what they’re doing for a few seconds.

I have barely begun to descend from the high when Vishal shakes my thigh.

“Get up, whore. We’re not done with you.”

I drag my spent body up into a sitting position.

“On the sofa or on the floor?” Vishal asks Sandeep.

“Sofa angle might be difficult. Floor will work,” his friend answers him.

So Vishal moves to the floor and lies down on his back, his erect penis standing away from his prone body.

“Come on, slut, on it,” he directs.

I move to obey. As I straddle his body, he pulls me down to him so that I am low above him on my hands and knees on either side of his body. He reaches down and guides his cock to my pussy, entering me with a single hard shove that buries half of his thick cock in me.

As my pussy fills to accommodate one cock, I feel Sandeep move into position behind me. His cock is at the entrance of my anus. He’s already lubricated by my saliva but I still fear that anal sex might be painful. So when he tries to enter me, I tense up and his cock is denied access.

He tries to thrust but cannot gain admission as I’m still tense. A hard slap rings out and I feel my bottom start to burn.

“Please…” I whimper.

“Relax then,” Sandeep says.

I bite the inside of my lip and concentrate on loosening my sphincter. As I slowly relax, I feel him slip inside me, and he pushes into me until I feel the base of his cock come up against my ass. He is longer than anything I’ve had in there. I feel full and satisfied with both my entrances plugged up.

It’s then that Vishal starts to move under me. His cock that had been only half inside me, starts to push in more. If I felt already full, now I feel like I’m being stretched beyond my limit. And he is still sliding into me. I moan and try to move, but there is no escape; I’m pinned by a cock in my ass and one in my cunt.

Vishal’s cock keeps entering me and when he’s finally done, I feel like my insides are so full that at any moment I’ll burst and all my stuffing will pour out of me. I feel skewered on both their cocks deep inside me. It’s a feeling like nothing else.

Then the two of them start moving. Tentatively at first, but then they get into a rhythm where one of them withdraws and the other thrusts, and when the second withdraws, the first thrusts. I’m being speared from front and behind at the same time. The pace picks up, the two fucking me in perfect coordination, pounding into me from both sides.

I don’t have to do anything but hold myself in position as I am hammered. The two go faster and faster, harder with their thrusts, plunging deep into me. I feel desire uncoiling within me as the grunts of the two men and the slap of their thighs hitting my pussy and ass fills the room.

And then Sandeep is coming, his thrusts getting wild and uncontrolled as he jerks, falls out of rhythm and empties his cum into my ass. He’s still thrusting even as his semi-rigid cock spurts inside me. Vishal is going at a feverish pace, a growl low in his throat keeping time with his frenzied plunges. I follow Sandeep next as my orgasm washes over me and a moment later, Vishal comes, grimacing and groaning loudly. All three of us fall across the other in the aftermath, our sweat-soaked bodies sticking to each other.

When we finally peel ourselves off and get up, weak-legged and fully satisfied, I’m pulled into a seat on Sandeep’s lap. His cock still feels a bit hard on my bottom.

“You’re a nice fuck,” he says into my ear. “Next time, I want your cunt.”

“And you can have it,” Vishal offers from where he’s lying on the ground. He looks into my eyes, “You’ll be paid extra for tonight, slut. Just satisfy us.”

The next time I’m fucked, it’s only Sandeep. He fucks my cunt like a wild man, jackhammering his cock into me like he’s going to tear me apart. I feel like a receptacle that exists just to pleasure him. His eyes are closed as he plunges in and out of me, his face screwed up with the effort. I can barely feel any pleasure in the act; instead, I feel violated by his single-minded devotion to satisfying his own needs.

He comes violently, after just a few minutes of fucking, then collapses on top of me, driving the breath from my body.

Vishal takes over then, subjecting me to more spanking. I’m abused almost beyond endurance that night, my ass and breasts red and sore from the punishment. At some point, I start sobbing, tears running down my face from the pain. Sandeep joins in and they take turns on my breasts and bottom, even leaving teeth marks on my soft breasts. I don’t know how I take it, pain and pleasure mingling and rising to a crescendo until I am cumming just by their open palms landing on me.
Sandeep pulls me on his lap again, resting my back against him as he pulls my legs up and opens wide, exposing my inviting cunt to Vishal. The thick cock spears me in one motion, driving into me hard and fast. The fucking is rough, objectifying me like never before. I am rocked to the core by the pounding Vishal gives me. Held in the arms of his friend, I can barely stop myself from crying out as my sore pussy is battered again and again by Vishal.

Finally, he shudders into an orgasm and it is over.

All of us just lie there, tired from the activity. Every part of my body is sore and throbbing. My ass and breasts hurt with the slightest motion. I know my pussy is sore and will be complaining tomorrow.

Vishal stirs first. He looks me, still in Sandeep’s lap.

“You did good, slut,” he says.

“Mm-hmm,” Sandeep agrees.

“How good?” Vishal asks his friend.

“I haven’t had that good a whore in a long time,” Sandeep answers. “She’s a really good piece of ass. And such a wanton bitch in heat too.”

My face flames at the words of the two men. They discuss me like I’m not there.

Vishal smiles and moves to pick up his wallet from a side table, and taking a wad of currency out, throws it at me.

“Take that. You did well, today,” he says.

I look at the money. It’s a bank sealed stack of hundred rupee notes. At least five thousand in there.

“Now out of here,” he says tiredly as he lies back down on the floor.

I dress with both the men watching my every move. When I’m ready to leave, I take up the money and look at them, wondering what to say.

“Out, slut,” Vishal says. “You know the drill. I’ll call you when I need you.”

“Nice fucking you,” Sandeep says.

“And don’t ever show up unless you’re called,” Vishal adds in a menacing voice, “or I’ll hurt you more than you can ever imagine. Not an idle threat, believe me.”

I do. On legs that can hardly support me, I wobble to the car and drive myself home. This will have to serve me until Vishal calls me again. Until next time.

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