She didn’t know how long she had been in the hotel room, what day it was, the hour, none of it. The only thing that she knew was pain, in every part of her body. And thirst and hunger, the only diet she had during her time here had been a steady one of piss and cum. Mostly cum. Her arms were numb, tied up above the booth, barely able to tell flashes were going off through the blindfold they had put on her. Her legs splayed. She didn’t try to keep her legs together anymore, they hit her for that. Instead, her raw sex gaped, dripping. 10 men? 20? She didn’t know. Nothing mattered, she was spent, ruined. All because she had cheated on her fiance.
She hadn’t meant to, she hadn’t planned to do it. It had been an impulse, buzzing after dancing with friends celebrating a promotion. An older man had danced with her, and she had felt electric. He was bold, touching her, his eyes daring her to stop him. She hadn’t. He had groped her on the dance floor, pushing her to a corner, fingering her in the open, her soaked panties shoved to the side. Then, for the first time ever, she’d let a stranger fuck her bareback in an alley, pumping her against a dirty trash bin, cumming on his cock. He’d left her a 50, shaking there, realization of what she had done hitting her as cum dripped down her legs.
The guilt had gotten to her over the next week. She originally hadn’t wanted to admit to her soon to be husband what she had done, but the stain on her dress where the man had wiped his cock on her afterwards, and the stain on the seat of her car where his cum had dripped haunted her. She had finally broke down in tears, admitting the entire affair, including the shameful bit about the money he’d paid her, thinking her a common whore. He had said nothing for the longest time, staring down as she cried, telling him to yell at her, hate her, just say something. He never did. He slapped her once so hard she fell to the floor and walked out as she clung to his leg, begging him to stay. He pulled away and had left her, crying alone.
That had been two weeks ago. No communication other than the wedding called off, everything done and finished. It was over. She’d gotten drunk, hating how she had thrown it all away, but the worst thing had been the lack of closure. Not once had he talked to her, not once had he spoken a word. Everything came from friends and former friends, she hadn’t even seen him since that night. And so, when he had texted her, asking her to come to a hotel, she had, eagerly. Even if he was just going to yell at her, tell her he never wanted to see her again, it would be worth it for the closure. She wouldn’t even complain if he slapped her again. She had deserved it. And if there was a chance for forgiveness, well she was willing to do whatever it took to make it work. He deserved that if he gave her the chance.
She had put on his favorite dress, his favorite lipstick, a dark shade of red, and headed out. She arrived at the hotel, hoping he wasn’t living there. It was run down and pretty out of the way, but she figured he didn’t want friends or family finding out before he told them if he was going to take her back. She straightened her dress, heading to the room he’d texted her. She started to knock, but he opened the door before she could, and waved her inside. She frowned at his intense glare, bubbling with anger. Cold. She figured he was going to leave her for good once he vented. She understood.
As soon as he shut the door, she started to speak and apologize once again but a hard slap stunned her. She looked down at the floor, whimpering that she was sorry when he slapped her again. She was scared, but she’d betrayed him. She looked up, really saw into his eyes, and finally felt afraid.
She never saw the punch, just a blur as he hit her right in the mouth, sending her back to the wall. She’d never been punched before by anyone and the first thing she thought was that it strangely didn’t hurt. She was confused, she couldn’t focus but the slaps had hurt more. And then, her head started pounding, the pain in her split lip hit, the dull ache of impact coursed through her. The slaps had surged her with adrenaline. The punch, the opposite, she already felt tired and weak, sapped. She whimpered at his feet, apologizing. He didn’t accept it.
They’d always had fairly vanilla sex, which was probably part of the reason she’d let the older man take her. His boldness had excited her. But her ex, he clearly didn’t want anything vanilla. She screamed as he tore at her dress, shoving her face down as her ripped it apart. If it had been in good times, she would have welcomed the intensity and passion from him. Now though, he was a demon possessed. She whimpered as he grabbed her panties, pulling them up into her sex before ripping them off. The same with her bra, the fabric tearing at her soft breasts. The only thing, when he was finished, was her stockings. He left them on her.
“I’m sorry,” she whimpered, trying to cover herself. Each time she tried he slapped her, harder and harder. Her lip was bleeding, her cheeks were red, eyes wet. Finally, she left her arms by her side as he looked at her that way.
“No, not yet. But you will be,” he threatened. Then, he kicked her onto her side, pulling her up on the knees. She didn’t fight, her spirit broken or so she had thought. She was prepared to be raped by her former fiance, but she was wrong. She realized that the second she felt him pushing at her ass.
“God, god no! Stop! Stop! SGMGHNNNNNNNNNN,” she screamed, at least until he grabbed her head and slammed it into the floor, then he took her hips and drove into her, ramming with all his strength. It actually hurt him some as well, but nothing like the pain it was causing her as he tore up her guts. Normally he had a lot of stamina, but with how tight her bleeding ass was and how worked up he was, he barely lasted a couple minutes. Minutes that felt like hours to her. When he was done, he shuddered up her shitter, filling it with his cum. He stood up, watching her curl into a ball as he picked up his phone, taking photographs.
“The fun’s just starting whore,” he said as he punched away at his phone, posting pics on multiple forums, the address, before writing on her chest that she would always be a whore. He tied her up in there, blindfolding her. The message was clear online, she was into being raped by strangers, they could do anything they wanted to her that wouldn’t cause her permanent damage. He didn’t want her dead, except on the inside, how she had made him. When the first man timidly entered the room he smiled and turned on the camera he had in there. His cock hardened as the man grabbed her head, making her suck him before fucking her pussy. Bareback, just like the whore that she was. No condoms were to be allowed. Either by STD or pregnancy, she was going to be ruined.
When he came in the next morning into the room, she was hanging limply, used to exhaustion. She reeked of piss, both strangers and hers, her hair was matted with cum. He found her strangely beautiful as he took off the blindfold and spit on her. She barely reacted as he hooked the camera to the TV, and started streaming her the nights events. All told 14 men had used her, fucking her face, pissing on and in her, slapping her around, choking her and fucking her. She couldn’t even feel her arms anymore. Her nose and mouth had dried blood on them. She flinched when he started to slap her, then knelt by her as he freed her arms.
“You’re ruined. If you say anything, I’ll make sure everyone in town sees that video. Do you understand?” he asked. When she nodded, he jerks off her blindfold. Her eyes were dull, defeated. He untied her arms and shoved her on the floor.
“Spread that whore ass again and I want you to cry. And next week we’ll do this again. And again. And maybe one day I’ll forgive you,” he said, smiling as she whimpered, spreading her ass, coated in dried blood. She screamed and cried as he fucked it, slapping at her. She took it and knew deep down, she’d be here next week. After all, she deserved it.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/gnf90l/about_all_she_deserved_it_mf_nc