Killing me softly

((Edited))

“Five grand. Take it or leave it. Don’t try that penny-pinching shit with me!”

Did this Mother Fucker think he was shopping at k-mart for pussy? If you can’t pay the high dollars, then take your broke ass down to the corner and get what you pay for. You don’t fuck a Kennedy for free!

Laughing, money exchanged hands, it was the first client in months. She had put herself on ignore from that little black book, but tonight Camelot’s little Princess was back. Two clients a week was all she allowed. A quick ten grand a week could feed her spending habits and her desire to be the best. Most of those bitches gave it away for free not realizing that shit between their legs was a gold-mind.

Three hours later in the Penthouse of the Waldorff Astoria Beverly Hills, Miss Kennedy was welcomed by the concierge.

“Miss Kennedy, we have the room ready for you, and may we say, it’s a pleasure to have you stay here. I trust your family is well after that,” his voice lowered, “bit if violence you endured. We want to ensure you that we have hired extra security for you. We do try to take care of our clients.” She nodded, slipping on her sunglasses even though she was indoors. The news had done its damage to the young girl, and the last thing she needed today was for them to catch wind of whom she was meeting. Her high profile clients expect their names kept anonymous.

“Miss Kennedy, this is your suite. If you need anything, please feel free to let us know. Also, there is a pass key to the private elevator if you choose. Your guest has arrived and sent a message to you. It’s on the table,” backing himself out of the room, the male knew there was nothing else to say. He could tell by the unimpressed look on her face that she didn’t need his attention.

Putting a hundred in his hand, she was finished with his little speech and he knew it.

Alone, she stood in the mirror looking at her reflection. A shadow of the vibrant 18-year-old girl that she once was, life had played tricks on her lately. What the fuck would her client think when he saw her? She had lost 10 pounds since the last time they spent the night together. 10 pounds that she couldn’t afford to lose. Already skin and bones, her hips protruded from the sockets, giving her the look of an emancipated woman. At least the hallowed cheeks and faint bruises on her body could be covered with a heavy layer of makeup.

Shaken for the moment, the light knock on the door brought her back to reality. It would be her client, the one who paid for the room, and the one who placed 5 grand in her pocket for tonight. It had been a while since she worked, about 4 months to be exact. She found herself fighting the old urges to make quick money, and party like she didn’t give a fuck if she lived or died. If someone were to ask her if she did, they might be shocked at her response.

Her lids dropped for a moment, a deep breath taken in before she opened the door. There is that fake smile that she knew so well. Her lips curling to enhance the pout, Gypsy wanted him to feel as though she wanted to spend the evening with him. “Hello, stranger. You look good,” leaning in, she kissed his cheek, they would leave the rest for behind closed doors. “Come in. I saw that you ordered in a late dinner?” she wasn’t asking, rather stating a fact.

The male entered the suite, tossing his jacket on the foyer chair on the way in. “You look delicious, though, a little less weight? Stop doing that. You know I like a little meat on you, or in you, but that will come later,” as he spoke, she laughed a little. It was funny how easy it was to speak so many lies. Sometimes she felt as though her tongue would burn from all the untruths she told.

“You know how it is. I need to look good for my naughty boy,” she moved closer, changing the subject. There was no need to fill him in on the horrors of her life. Slender fingers moving down his chest, she stopped to cup his dick through the fabric of his pants. “How about you fuck my face and we forget about my diet?” blunt, cold hard blunt, but there was no man that could resist that. Well, no straight man.

She could see the smirk without even looking at his face. The way his body tensed, she knew that shit-eating grin was plastered all over his face. A man like him can have any woman, but tonight, he wanted the best.

“Be a good little whore and get on your knees, Gypsy. Open that mouth for me.”

God, when he talked to me like she was just a receptacle I am so turned on. Given any other situation, she would leave my handprint on his face and be out of the door. Not tonight. Tonight he needed to forget the past.

Mouth open wide, his hand tangling my golden mane. Tapping the head against her tongue, he taunted her with a taste. There was a difference though. He tasted like pussy, and it wasn’t hers. This mother fucker just fucked a bitch and forced her to taste the whore on his cock. Pulling back, her eyes opening wide, the moment she went to protest, he spit on her tongue and forced his dick to rip her jaws apart with one thrust. Holding her till she left prints of her lipstick on the base of his cock, there was no regard for her lack of breathing.

His breath coming in short pants, he used her well-kept mane as a training tool on how to speak to a man properly. Tears smearing the mascara on her face, he forced her to crawl backward, not stopping until her body hit the wall with a thud. Now, he could rape her throat with the head of his cock and there was no way she could move. Gulping with every thrust, the head was well past her throat and into her windpipe. Was he trying to crush it, or mold it for only his cock? She felt at one time it was both.

Pulling back, a hard slap of his cock against her cheek, she drooled a thin line of saliva from the corner of her mouth.

“This is how you’ll earn that five grand. I don’t need some pretty mouthy bitch, I need a well-trained whore!”

Pulled up by her hair, flipped with her face against the wall, his body pressed hard to hers, she would never forget his words.

“I can get pussy for free all day long,” his voice stopped, pulling her skirt up, panties to the side, and pushing the tip of his cock against her asshole. One thrust and he was in. No mercy, no lube, and no care for her. “But when I pay 5 grand, I’m taking ass!”

Grunts, guttural groans, and the pounding of his cock into her ass filled the room. With his hand over her mouth to prevent her from screaming, her body lifted each time he bottomed out into her deepest cavity. Every thrust a searing heat that took her breath away, but sent her body into a painful pool of pleasure. Sounding like a wounded animal, his cock pounded with no mercy, deeper with every stroke.

“Fucking stop. You fucking prick,” she screamed, biting his hand to have him release her breaths.

Pulling out and back, smirking, he dropped her to the floor, stroking himself as precum poured from the head of his cock. Grabbing her head, he yanked her head back, cumming all over her face. Thick ropes of warm seed covered her mouth, bringing a deep laugh from the male. “Whose the artist now? Clean it up, bitch.”

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