One Lucky Whore

When I miss him, I ask if I can “see” him and he sends me a selfie.

I was still three days away from seeing him again. He sent me a selfie. He was smiling in it.

“is that smile for me?” I asked him.

“The smile. The photo. The excitement.”

I grinned. “Oh, but I do love pictures of your excitement,” I replied smugly.

“Well, there’s an idea….” he started. “Seems like I should deny you the sight of it for a bit.”

“I’ve been denied a week already!” I threw in a shocked face emoticon for good measure.

“Are you ready for me to be nasty?” he asked.

I had no idea if I was ready. Two weeks ago, he wouldn’t let me kiss him until after I’d fixed dinner, we ate, and I’d washed the dishes, then kissed every inch of his body before he let me touch his lips.

“Yes?” I responded.

“You will not touch, taste, or see my cock until I pull it out of your wet hole and come on your face, my beautiful whore.”

swoon


I got out of the shower around 6:45. Plenty of time, I thought. He usually arrives at my house around 7:30.

“Trying to decide if I should wear makeup for you to ruin” I texted him.

“Heh, sure, do it.”

“Sweet,” I replied. “Whore it is. After I go to the market.”

“I’m here.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Here?” Did he mean he was at my house already, or that he was still at work?

“Your house.”

He was early. Forty five minutes early! I hadn’t cleaned my vibrator, picked up the laundry, brushed my teeth…I hadn’t scooped the litter box! I was still wearing a bathrobe!

He let himself into my house as I was brushing my teeth. He was on his way up the stairs when I stepped out into the corridor outside my bedroom wearing only my bathrobe. “You’re early! I didn’t have time….!” I stammered. He smiled and pulled me in for a kiss.

One kiss led to another, and soon I was naked and leaning back on the bed with my legs spread and his fingers probing my wet cunt.

After an orgasm, he stepped back. “Well…? Go whore yourself up.”

I nodded dreamily and went to the bathroom to put on some makeup. I did it quickly – heavy mascara and eyeliner, light on the rest. Then grabbed this very slutty dress that I’d picked out for the evening. About 20 pounds ago it looked hot. I’d worn it to the dungeon about a year ago….but not since.

But he loves my body and always makes me feel sexy. For him I’ll walk around naked or in a bikini and I still know he wants me.

He’s laying on the bed when I finish. I walk over to him and smile. He gets up and pulls me into a kiss. Then forces me to bend over the bed kicks my feet apart at the ankle.

He fingers me until I come two more times. He pulls me up by the hair and, woozy, I lean against him for support.

“I’m gonna go change so I’m not wearing cargo shorts,” he said.

“Wait..,” I say, looking up, “Where are we going?”

“To the market,” he replied.

I’d forgotten about the market.  “Can I change?” I asked..

“No.” The gleam in his eye….

Fuck.


I’m dressed like a whore in a too-tight, too-short dress, wearing leather knee high boots and no panties at my upscale, suburban neighborhood market. As we’re heading over, he points out what’s on the shopping list…

Cucumbers. Japanese Eggplant. Condoms….

FUCK.


 

I was bent over the foot of the bed, knees on the padded bench. He fingered me roughly. Spanked me a lot. Shoved my face into the mattress, then pulled it back up by my hair.

He walked around to the side of the bed and leaned over to bring his face down to my level.

“You are my whore…” he said, searching my eyes.

I nodded. “Yes, Sir.” I am.  I always am.

“Tonight, I’m going to treat you like one.”

My heart skipped a beat.

True to his word, I never saw his cock. I heard the swoosh of the belt, and was grateful for the long warm-up that made it possible for each strike to land hard, loud, and solid on my ass and thighs. He entered me from behind, reaching around to roughly grab my tits and pinch at my nipples. I lost count of my orgasms. I just remember that he told me to close my eyes and keep them closed before he flipped me over onto my back.

By then I was naked except for the boots. He was fucking me so roughly, and so deeply, that was the first time I’ve ever squirted….and the second.

He pulled out of my cunt and crawled up over my body. “Open your eyes,” he ordered.  Just as I complied, I felt his hot come on my chin and neck, then tasted it, followed by the sensation of his plunging his cock into my hungry whore mouth.

When he was finished, he pulled out and leaned down to kiss me, deeply.  “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you,” I whispered back.


“Do you like coming on my face?” I asked him over breakfast the next morning. Eggs, bacon, and vegetables.

He paused to think, then answered honestly. “I like knowing you enjoy it. It’s not really my preference…”

I smiled. There was a version of me a long time ago that would have been horrified to hear that a lover of mine had done something for me that he didn’t thoroughly enjoy. It’s different with him.

Or maybe I’m different with him.

I recall my soft whisper while still dazed after our morning fuck before breakfast. “I’m the luckiest whore in the world,” I’d said.

And I am. Because I belong to him.

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