Whore

Whore.



He called her that. He called her that as he pushed his thumb across her red lipstick, too much of it, until it smeared across her cheek.



She chased his finger with her mouth, chased it with her tongue.



She was wearing such a slutty outfit.



A plaid skirt that went just over halfway down her ass. White cotton panties. A white button shirt that was at least a size too small that only had one button buttoned. No bra. She wore strapped heels and white socks up to her knees.



Whore.



Her eyes were lined in dark, messy eyeliner, and her mouth was so red. And he wanted to mess it up. He wanted to mess her up. 

She sat on the bed. Her legs were spread. She had invited him over because she wanted him.

And he didn't want her. But she didn't fucking care. She'd get him to want her. She had no pride. She had nothing. She was a whore who wanted him to fuck her. And she didn't care how she got him to.



She just wanted him to fuck her. And if she had to whore herself out to him, open herself, plead with him, she'd do what it took.



And he was there now, in front of her, on the bed, and there was nothing to talk about, and her pussy was wet, she was half naked, and he called her a whore, and that's what she was, what she wanted to be. Rational thought had escaped, and all she wanted was him. All she wanted was to be fucked senseless, unconscious, fucked good, fucked right, and if that made her a whore, she wanted it. Welcomed it. She wanted him. Was tired of fighting it.



She wanted him to hurt her. Hurt.



"Hurt me," she said.



Hurt me.



His hand went into her hair and pulled. Pulled so hard. So fucking hard. Her face, her eyes fluttered. 



Hurt me.



Whore.



His other hand came down in a full slap on her thigh, as hard as he could. There was a red handprint on her pale thigh. Slapped her hard. 

Fuck. Yeah. More.



"Whore," he said.



There was a jump rope next to her on the bed and he twisted it around her wrists, so hard, rubbing it against her skin, so tightly.



"You're never going to get it, are you? I don't want you," he said, yanking on the jump rope.



"And you just don't give up. Do you like getting rejected? Do you like pain?" he said, punctuating that with another slap to her thigh. She cried out.



"You really are a whore," he said, rubbing against that red mouth one more time, messing her face up good.



"I am. I'll do whatever you want," she said.



"Whatever you want, just please," she said, trying to pull her hands down, reaching out to him, tied together with the jump rope.



He yanked them back again and her back was on the bed, and he tied her to the headboard.



Her legs, her knees spread.

"Can you even keep your legs closed? Whore," he said.



"What the fuck are you wearing? You think this will make me want you? You think showing me your ass? Your tits? You think this is how to get me to fuck you?" he said.



"I don't fuck whores," he said.



With every word out of his mouth, she writhed against the rope, her nipples pushed against the white shirt, the skirt barely covered her panties.



"So this is what gets you off? Me telling you what a whore you are?" he said, climbing onto the bed fully now.



"Yes," she whispered, her eyes, messy and black lined, half closed, staring at him in some type of lust-filled trance.



"Shut your fucking mouth, whore," he said.



He took one wooden handle of the jump rope and stuck it in her mouth. 

"Bite that," he said. And she listened.



"Keep that in your mouth. And keep your mouth fucking shut," he said.



Every word out of his mouth made her writhe and move more on the bed. 



"So you think you're a little school girl? There is nothing fucking innocent about you. You are a fucking slut. And you deserved to be treated like one. Nothing better than that," he said, holding her face roughly in his hands.



"Sluts like you, they don't want their shirts to stay buttoned, and clearly, you don't, having one pathetic button barely keeping it closed, right?" he said.



She nodded, still keeping the handle in her mouth.



He took her shirt in both hands and savagely ripped it open, sending the one button flying into the air. Her back arched and her hard nipples got harder with the exposure to the air.



"That's better, whore. You want to be topless. You want to show the world what you've got, don't you?" he said.



Still grinding and writhing on the bed, she nodded again, not taking her eyes off him.



Again, he took her face in his one hand, hard, and leaned in.


"So, whore, what is the point of wearing a skirt this short," he said, running his hand under her skirt and grabbing her ass so hard she did cry out in pain, and he smiled.



"What's the point of wearing a skirt this short, if all you are showing is silly white panties," he said.



"You don't want to wear these," he said.



"You want your pussy uncovered. You want every guy you walk by to be able to see it, because you're a whore, and whores just want to get fucked, don't they?" he said.



"You want to show it to them," he said.



His hands under her skirt now pulled her panties off, one leg at a time, almost gently, until they were gone, and then he grabbed her wet pussy hard. So hard.



"But most of all, you want to show it to me. Don't you?" he said, his voice almost a whisper.



Her eyes rolled back a little with that, and she sighed, nodding, nodding.



His hand was tight on her, then he pulled away.



"Do it, whore. Show it to me," he said. 

Her back arched, and she slowly, bending them at the knees, opened her legs, digging the heels she was still wearing into the bed.



"More. Open more," he said.



She spread her legs still wider, flushing red, but doing what she was told.



His hands were on her inner thighs, squeezing the sensitive skin tightly, again, leaving red marks.



"That's right," he said.



Her arms had pulled out of the jump rope now and she grabbed his hand under hers, pressing it against her skin.



"What, whore? You want more?" he asked.



"Yes. Hurt me," she said



Hurt me.



He pulled his hand out from under hers and lifted it to her again, bringing it down hard, and stopping just before he got to her thigh, making her arch her back and flinch.



He laughed. And did it again. Stopping just before.



"Please," she said. 

This time, he brought his hand down hard and slapped the inside of her open leg on the thigh. So hard this time that her eyes teared, but it was so, so good.



"You like when I hurt you," he said, holding her face again, leaning closely to say it.



"You have to, because you just don't stop coming back for it. That's the only thing I can figure. You like getting hurt," he said.



She nodded, staring deeply into his eyes, and reached out to touch his mouth, so close to hers. She hadn't touched his mouth before. 

He slapped her hand away.



"I didn't say you could fucking touch me," he said.

"I don't care how badly you want to touch me. You don't get to touch me until I say you can. If I say you can. Can a fucking whore like you understand that?" he said, bringing his hand down on her other thigh. Harder than ever. 



Every time he slapped her, she got closer. 



Closer.



Her hips writhed under him. Her back arched, nipples pointed at the ceiling. She dug her strapped heels into the bed.



"I'll make a deal with you, whore. You keep quiet, totally quiet, for the next five minutes, and I'll let you ask me for something. Deal?" he said.



She nodded.



But he wasn't going to make it easy.



He ran his hand again over her mouth, pushed his thumb in her mouth, and she bit it softly, licked it, hands flat against the bed, and his wet thumb ran down her neck, down, between her breasts and he reached over and traced his fingers around her nipple, got to the center, and squeezed.



Squeezed her nipple hard, twisted it in his hands. Her back arched with the pain and heated pleasure that ripped from her nipple and ran straight down to her pussy. He was kneeling between her legs and they opened more around him involuntarily.



She bit her lip so hard it almost drew blood, trying not to cry out and punched the bed with one of her fists.



He smiled.



He leaned over again, until his mouth was an inch from hers, barely touching her lips with his, their breathing so close, he hung just out of her mouth's reach. Her breathing had increased so rapidly she was afraid that it would make noise. She tried to reach for his mouth and he took her face in his hand, hard.



"You don't listen very well. I didn't say," he said, each word a whisper, punctuated by barely, torturously, grazing her lips with his, "you...could...fucking... touch me."



She closed her eyes and put her head back. As he was talking, he grabbed the jump rope from above her head. He still had some time in his five minutes. She didn't see what he was doing because her eyes were closed. Then she felt it down her body, as dragged it along.



She opened her eyes to again see him kneeling between her legs, and he had the rope taut between his two fists.



"Quiet...remember," he said.



He rolled the rope under her, between her legs, lifting her slightly in the air, so it was tight between her legs, and pulled it up against her open, wet pussy, and slowly, pulled the rope back and forth, so the rough jump rope opened her, stroking her as he moved it up and down.

The pressure, the roughness, the pain, the texture of the rope against her clit. Rubbing it all the way up. All the way down. It was too fucking much. 

She almost passed out from holding her breath, because any breathing that would have escaped her would be a scream. And she couldn't make a sound.



What she could do was twist against the rope, push more, want more of it, want it harder. Rougher. She raked at the comforter on the bed with her fingernails, wanting it to be his skin.



She finally had to breathe, and she bit into her knuckle. Her eyes were fluttering like she was possessed. Still, he pulled against her pussy, tightly with the jump rope, and how found the wooden handle and traced it down her belly until he rolled over her clit with it, hard. It was so hard.



And she gasped out loud as he ran the wooden handle of the jump rope over her aching, flushed, wet pussy. 

"Uh oh. You made a noise. Five more minutes, whore," he said.



Still he stroked her pussy with the wooden handle, hard, and lower, until he was right where she was totally exposed, open, and she didn't think her eyes would ever be focused again.



"What's the matter, you little slut? You want it inside you? You'll just take getting fucked by anything at this point. That's how bad you want it," he said.



She nodded, afraid to open her mouth, but nodded, trying to make her eyes begging and pleading for it.



Still he teased her, so close, just barely inside of her. It was so, so hard. She could feel it. Her legs opened as wide as she could get them, and she put her head back and just tried to ride out the remaining minutes because she knew for fucking sure what she would be asking for.



"Look at me," he said, slapping her inner thigh.



"What do you want? You can tell me now. What do you want to ask me for? Or do I even need to ask you. I know what whores want," he said.



"Oh my god, fuck me," she said.



Still, he teased her pussy.



"I told you, I don't fuck whores," he said.



Her eyes burned with humiliating tears. 

"Please, please, please, I'll do anything you want, anything, please," she said.



"That's good. I like when you fucking beg, because that's about the only thing you haven't done yet to try and get me to fuck you, isn't it?" he said.



And that was true. She had done everything else she could think of. Nothing worked. But she didn't care about any of that. She needed him to do it now.

"Beg me again," he said.



"Please, please, please," she said, lifting herself off the bed and throwing herself around his waist, head down, on her knees, begging.



He roughly pushed her off.



"Don't fucking touch me. I told you I'll tell you when you can touch me," but she wouldn't let go once she had him. He pulled her arms off and she moaned in frustration, fighting him.



He pushed her back flat on the bed. She ripped the jump rope from his hand.



"Touch me," she said, pleading again.



"Where?" he said.



"You know where," she said. She was hot, wet, and temporarily insane. 

"First you have to do something for me," he said.



"Anything, anything, please," she said.



"Get on your knees on the floor," he said. 

He had barely gotten the sentence out before she was there. 

He opened his pants and pulled out his dick. She almost came from seeing it, seeing how hard it was. Maybe he wanted her a little after all.



"Give me that filthy red mouth of yours," he said, pushing it open again with his fingers, he slid his dick into her hot mouth and she was so turned on she came the minute he did, moaning into it, swallowing it, licking it, and his hand was tightly in her hair, forcing it deep.

She looked up at him and he said, "That's right, you little tramp." 



But she could see his eyes were unfocused as she worked it with her mouth, her hands tightly holding onto his ass, his legs, wanting as deep into her throat as she could get it. 



His hand forced her head on his dick, and he was ready to come much faster than he thought he would be, and he fucked her mouth hard, and she loved it, and came again.



"Only a whore like you would come from sucking my dick. You are such a whore," he said.

But his voice was trembling. 



His eyes were closed and her tongue worked his dick feverishly, she was starving for it, and as he came he forced her to go deeper until she choked a little, but she loved that, and he came all the way down her throat, and pulled her off by her hair to let her fall to the floor.

And it was on the floor that he left her. 



"I got what I wanted, you fucking slut. Later," he said, closing the door behind him. Smiling to himself.

He went downstairs and waited.

Waiting for her to come down and get him. Beg him to stay. Beg him to fuck her again. And he heard nothing. He was surprised.



He waited for 20 minutes.



Then he went back upstairs. He could hear her moaning through the door. Opened the door. 

She had given up on waiting for him, apparently.

She had taken off the skirt, but kept on the heels. 

Resting on her elbows, legs spread, wet, open, ready.



"I was a bad girl," she said.



"What did you do," he said, his dick hard again looking at her wet pussy.



He saw the jump rope handle in one hand. He smiled.

"You weren't up for the job. So I did it myself," she said.



"What did you just fucking say to me?" he said.



He was almost actually angry.

"I said you weren't up for the job. I've been asking you for a long time. You can't do it. So I did it myself. It's ok if you can't do it. I understand," she said, trying not to smile. She pulled her legs back together and went to get off the bed. 

He pulled her legs back hard. Left handprints in her skin.



"Who the fuck do you think you're talking to," he said.



"Too late, I'm not interested anymore," she said.



"Yeah? Too fucking bad," and he pulled her toward him on the bed, but she fought hard. He pinned her down, as she fought, punched, kicked, and even scratched him.



"Fuck you. Go fuck yourself. You don't deserve to get to fuck me," she said.



He held her naked, down the bed. Opened his belt. Opened his pants with the other hand, and pulled out his hard dick. For some reason the fighting was driving him fucking crazy.

"I'm going to fuck you like the whore you are," he said.



Still she fought.



"Fuck you," she said, kicking him away hard with her legs, and she almost got away.



"Don't worry," he said, getting her back, getting her hips, "You're going to."



And with that he finally got her still enough to get her hot pussy in front of him, and slid his rock hard dick all the way inside her, deeply as he could, and she was still squirming and writhing. 



"This is what you wanted," he said, and he fucked her really hard. So hard. So fast. Her back arched, her legs open, and she sighed and gasped as her breathing raked through her aching body.



"Yes, yes, yes," she moaned.



"Harder, harder, hurt me," she said.

He slapped her thigh and held her hips so tightly he was sure she'd be bruised, and still he fucked her. He fucked her so hard the bed creaked and shook and still he was relentless. He wanted her to scream. She was close. He stopped.



"Don't...don't stop. Don't stop," she said.

He leaned in and whispered to her.

"You are a bad girl. And bad girls like you need to be fucked hard, don't they."



"Yes...yes," she said.



He slapped her again and fucked her as hard and fast as he could without coming. And then she did. She screamed until her voice was gone.

She could feel him getting close and she stopped him. 



"Wait," she could barely say. 

She pulled away and turned around this time, She got on her knees, bending deeply on her elbows, opening her legs wide for him to take her from behind, and she looked over her shoulder at him, her face red with her lipstick, her hair messy, her mouth so lusciously red, she licked her lips.



"Tell me you don't want me," she said.

And he couldn't. Even if he wanted to, he didn't have enough breathing left for it.



He took her hips in his hands and slid inside her, so much deeper this way, so slow this time, building, building it up again, holding her hips tightly in his hands, holding her still because she was bucking and writhing with his every move, until finally he came, and he came so hard he thought his knees were going to give out for a second.



He collapsed next to her on the bed and just didn't move for a few minutes.

Then he got up and she was afraid he was going to leave again, but instead, he came back with a warm, wet cloth. 



He surprised her, taking her into his arms, and stroking her hair, he gently rested her head on the pillow. He kissed her gently. With the cloth in his hand, he softly began cleaning the makeup off her face, off her cheek where he had smeared it earlier. He cleaned the black liner off her eyes.



He was so gentle.



"Why...?" she said, and he softly kissed her now clean face.



"I told you," he whispered, saying her name for the first time.



"I don't fuck whores."

The End