The Sweetener - Sex Stories

The Sweetener

... stinging. “Dirty little whore! Do you not like what we do to you?” Fingers shifting inside her; fingers pulling on her nipples. How she felt about it was neither here nor there. “I am your whore,” she said. “I am here to satisfy.” The men laughed. Her tightly bound tits were grabbed and squeezed and shaken, then slapped. “Is anyone ready to fuck the whore?” a voice said. “She is good and ready for it.” Was she? Of course she was. They were bastards, the lot of them. And she had a weakness for bastards. The mattress bucked, her arms were pulled, fingers removed from her pussy. She sensed a body over her as her hands met hard cock meat. Her fingers closed around erections as another hard cock pushed at her entrance. “You want cock in that dirty fuck hole?” someone asked. His face must be right above hers. “Yes,” she breathed. “I want your cock. Please give it to me!” The cock remained where it was, pushing at her, but not entering. “You want cock in your pussy?” “Yes, I want cock in my pussy. Please fuck me!” Her hands moved, working the cocks on either side of her. It wasn’t just talk. As degrading as the situation was, her body was overruling her head. “Listen to the slut begging!” someone exclaimed. Then she heard the sound of someone expectorating. Saliva slid across her cheek. Her breasts were slapped hard. “Dirty fucking cock whore! Look at her!” There followed foreign words Patricia didn’t get. Then, “Beg some more, slut!” ‘By any means necessary.’ Patricia just hadn’t ...

... imagined it would come to this. But if she must, she must. “Please fuck me!” she breathed. “I’m a slut. I’m a whore. I’m a cock whore. Please give me your cocks, all of you!” There were more words she didn’t understand. Still the cock resting at her entrance refused to penetrate her. Her nipples were pulled, her breasts slapped. She was spat on again, one of the men rubbing the saliva across her face. “Please fuck me! I’m your dirty cock whore. I’m here to satisfy.” She had no idea how the words were coming to her. She just knew that if this was the game, she wanted them to get on with it. “Fuck me! Use me!” There was laughter, touching, slapping, all over her body. Still the cock remained poised to enter her, but not moving. She hated being held on tenterhooks. “Fuck me!” she cried. “Fuck me now!” This proved to be a bad move. Suddenly she was laying there, untouched, sensing the men moving away. There was chatter, a lot of it in a foreign language. Then, someone said, “Remember, whore, we tell you what to do. You do not tell us what to do!” “I’m sorry,” she said instinctively, then regretted saying it, since it obviously made no difference to the men. She felt the collar tighten round her neck and understood someone was pulling on the leash. “Get on the floor on your knees, whore!” Patricia rolled over, finding the floor with her feet and swiftly adopting the required position. As soon as she was on her knees, her head was yanked forwards. She felt a thick cock against her ...