Note: This Story Was Commissioned As A Gift From Our "He" To Our "She", Based On Her Fantasies. I Mention

Note: This story was commissioned as a gift from our "He" to our "She", based on her fantasies. I mention it because I find it incredibly sweet and romantic.

CW: Noncon/dubcon, aphrodisiacs.

Unaware of what would happen, she laughed as they entered the hotel room. It didn’t really matter what she was laughing about: alcohol had a way of getting to her head in record time and with the potency of a hurricane, so it didn’t take much to make her explode in delighted giggles… and she certainly had drunk her fill at the party, of that he was sure. Or rather, of that he had made sure.

As soon as he locked the door she smiled and twirled for him, her dress rising up just enough to tease what was beneath it. Of all the things she loved about him, his desire for her to show off was perhaps what she cherished the most. He had made her more confident, encouraging her to dress in ways other boyfriends would throw a fit over, and in doing so she felt desired, sexy, powerful in a strange, powerless way. Sure, she dressed the way he liked, and that made her feel a bit like a doll, being someone else’s perfect fantasy of what was attractive; but on the other hand the looks the strangers at the party gave them both were delicious. They looked at her with desire, and at him with barely repressed jealousy. She couldn’t blame him- what man wouldn’t like to show off his young, tall, blonde trophy girlfriend? And knowing how much showing her off turned him on was enough for her to experience a constant, delightful wetness.

He knew what she wanted, of course. After a year and a half together, he could read her intentions with ease… not that she was being subtle. Still, he relished the moments when they could be together in person, skin to skin. Long distance play was a lot of fun, but being able to hold her, smell her, slap her… that was heaven. And that was what she was going for, teasing him so he’d push her, choke her, tell her what a little whore she was. It took a lot of self control not to fall for it, but he had a plan and he intended to see it through to the end. He smiled and opened the minifridge. One more drink to cap the night off. He didn’t even have to say it. She smiled and took the small bottle, giving him a devilish wink. She didn’t even bother to check what the drink was. If she knew anything, it was that she was safe with him, always. He was the fire that pushed her to be more free, and the safety net to do it with confidence.

It was sweet. Perhaps a bit too sweet; she certainly had never tasted anything like this drink before. The thought passed quickly. No time to focus on the taste of a drink when there were much more fun things to do… and she saw he was getting that look in his eye. The hunter look. The predator look. The look that made her need to go on her knees. The look that got her soaked in a moment. Still, they lingered. The anticipation was always one of the best parts. 

But it was time to let things explode. She sat on the bed, crossed her legs and, with a naughty look, she let one of the straps fall, leaving one hard nipple exposed. She needed him to put her in her place, as only he could.

It worked like a charm.

Like a blur, his body was on top of her, pinning her down. His weight robbed her of any chance to get up, to resist. To choose. She felt a hand around her neck. A hand sliding between her legs. His voice seemed to come from far away, from everywhere all at once- or perhaps it just echoed in her mind like thunder. You whore. You’re soaked, you cockteasing slut. This is what you want, isn’t it? To tease men until they use you like a whore, like the cumdump you are. This is all you are, all you deserve to be. 

She became vaguely aware that something was different. She couldn’t pinpoint what, exactly. Her thoughts felt small, sluggish. Her mind repeated his words in a loop. Whore. Slut. Cumdump. She felt herself almost drift away, floating in the way those words made her feel. But her body was alert. Sensitive. It almost hurt, needing to feel his cock so badly. Every shift in position, every movement sent shivers down her spine, made her pussy twitch in desperation. This wasn’t normal- but that realization was obliterated the second he started tearing her clothes off her skin. The stimulation was too much. Almost as if she was just seeing herself on a screen, she noticed her eyes were rolling in pleasure, her tongue peeking out from between her panting lips. She should have been scared of this, of becoming a passenger in her own body… but her lust, her need was too great to leave room for anything else. She felt like something new, something that was less than a person. A primal being. A thing that needed only to please and in pleasing, get her own pleasure. 

He didn’t have to command her. When he tied her top around her head, blinding her, she instinctively knew to simply remain still. Everything was spinning around her, and she vaguely wondered if she could have resisted at all, had she tried to do so. But the idea of resisting seemed somehow alien to her, an unthinkable concept.

A word came to her, weak, barely there. Drugged. Perhaps she should have been terrified. Perhaps she should have felt betrayed. Instead, all she could feel was the way her pussy got wetter and wetter by the second. Before she knew it she was bucking her hips, desperately humping the air. It was as if she was watching herself lose control, and the spectacle was, in itself, something that only made her more needy, more willing to do anything to be filled. It took a moment, but she eventually realized he was gone. She squirmed on the bed as sounds reached her. The door opening. Footsteps falling on the carpet. Too many steps. A new scent, the smell of someone’s skin. A male scent- that much her body knew, as it sent a shockwave of anticipation that traveled every inch of her skin.

A familiar sensation now. A choker going around her neck. She didn’t have to see to know exactly which choker it was: their favorite. She could almost see herself panting, the word “Whore” in big, shiny, letters adorning her neck, announcing to everyone what she was. It felt as if that word grew in her mind, overshadowing everything else about her. No matter what else she might be, what she might do, what she might pretend… she was a whore. His whore. Nothing more. She couldn’t help but repeat it in her mind, like a maddening echo that drove her wild. Whore. Whore. Whore. 

Then came the warm sensation on her lips. Almost by instinct, her mouth watered. She opened it, ready, eager. Cock. Hard for her. Starting to use her. Whose was it? She didn’t know. She didn’t care. She was a whore, and whores sucked cock. She wrapped her lips around it, gently stroking it, teasing it with her tongue…

But the cock, and the man that owned it, didn’t want to be gentle. Firm hands grabbed the sides of her head, taking complete control. She felt the cock ramming in and out of her mouth, going into her throat, choking her. Her thoughts instantly turned into a jumbled mess. Fuck my throat. My whore throat. Use my mouth like a pussy. Use every part of me. Hurt me. I’m just a whore. I need it. Please, I need to be used…

Every now and then she felt as if she would faint, but the man made sure to pull out and let her catch a couple of breaths before fucking her face, treating it like just a hole. That was all she was, all she wanted to be. Holes.

Her body felt on fire. She didn’t even feel the second man getting on the bed. All she felt was his cock entering her pussy in one stroke, without mercy, without a bit of care for her- but her pussy was so soaked, so needy that she felt no pain: only the mindless, perfect pleasure going up her spin, destroying any capacity to resist or think. A part of her, almost like a voice coming from far, far away, managed to reason: I’m not a person. I’m holes. They’re using me like a fucktoy. I’m a whore. I exist for their pleasure. A firm slap to the face was enough to erase that idea from her mind, sinking her in the sensation of being an object, the pain and the pleasure of her incredibly sensitive body.

She had no idea how long it had been. Time was meaningless for her. She existed only in moans and drooling and the sensation of two cocks taking her at once. Then, a hand pulled her hair, and two more hands turned her around, putting her in all fours. She had no control over herself. She knew she would simply let them do whatever they wanted. They could pose her like a doll, in any way they desired. She was just Whore. That was her name, her entire being, her only purpose. 

She couldn’t know who was where, who was using her mouth, who was using her pussy. All she could do was float in the pleasure of being spitroasted, lost in the almost hypnotic rhythm that rocked her back and forth, back and forth…

She heard her man’s voice, speaking between grunts. Pleasure is Purpose. Ring a bell, whore? Your blog, showing everyone what a slut you are, what your real depraved desires are… Did you think you could keep it a secret?

She shivered, almost came just then. He knew. Her man knew her in a way no one was supposed to know her. There was no hiding her true nature from him. There was no turning back now. She was a Whore, his Whore… 

Her mouth tasted it. Cum. Delicious, precious cum. All for her. She tried to swallow it all, to be a good Whore for them, but it was just too much. It dribbled down her chin, staining her face. Making her beautiful. She lifted her torso, letting some fall on her whore tits. Before she knew it, she was licking the bedsheets, blindingly trying to get every single drop as her pussy was pounded mercilessly. Suddenly, the cock inside her pulled out and she collapsed on the bed. More. She needed more. She could hear the door opening, someone leaving. Then, the words of her man.

So beautiful. Such a stunning whore, dripping with another man’s cum.

She felt it. She felt beautiful. She felt blessed. She felt useful. She felt proud.

Her lover wasn’t done. He pulled her hair, pinned her down and entered her ass. She screamed, not knowing if she felt pain or pleasure. They were the same to her, and what mattered was that now all her holes had been used as they should. A good whore always let men use any of her holes, and now she felt like the best whore that had ever lived. She moaned and panted and drooled and whimpered, a symphony of sensation coursing through her body. 

The spectacle was too much for any man to resist. She felt the familiar warmth of cum inside her asshole, and in a flash her lover moved to give her the rest of her reward in her mouth. Cum mixed with cum, two men satisfied by her holes. She couldn’t imagine asking for more in life. Exhaustion finally set in, and she started to drift off as she heard the click of a camera turning off. She smiled. She had been made porn.

The sun crept through the windows. She cuddled with her love.

“Was it as good as you imagined?”, he asked.

“Better”, she smiled. “Thank you.”

She had to say, when she had started the blog, she never imagined her love would find it. 

Now she was glad he had. 

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