0 comments/ 28068 views/ 2 favorites Dirty Weekend Ch. 01 By: MrParsons When I walked in, you were sat at the bar facing away from the door, and I had no doubt that you will have been doing so since eight o'clock, just as I had specified. I was also sure that the fifteen minutes you had spent waiting for your client to turn up would have been somewhat disconcerting for you, but you waited patiently as I knew you would. I knew that you wouldn't be leaving without a trick. Finding an empty table near the door, I sat down and hung my suit jacket on the chair behind me. As the waitress carried my order back to the bar she led my eyes back to you, and I watched as she presented you with the glass of wine I had ordered for you, saying a few words. One of these words was 'James'. You knew this James was probably me, but you couldn't have been entirely sure; after all, the way you were dressed had been granting you a lot of attention that night. Either way, whoever's eye you'd caught was probably training it on you at that very moment. Indeed he was. You didn't turn around. Good girl. I sat back smugly and tried to pretend that you weren't so familiar to me, and that James was running his eyes over your beautiful form for the first time. Heels hooked over the brushed steel barstool, and the swell of soft, curvaceous calves accentuated by the black nylon that stretched thin over their fullness. I could not see the hem or the cut of your dress from where I sat, but I could see how it clung to you and flattered your delectably ample figure, how the straps ran under the dirty blonde hair which sat neatly on your shoulders; I was strongly tempted to oblige my instinct and walk straight over to you, smooth my hands down your sides, breathe you in, kiss your neck. But James didn't know you that well. My whisky arrived, and as I warmed the glass in my hands I considered this moment where both of us were having to exercise discipline. There wouldn't be many more of those for me tonight. I knocked back my drink and waited. You had until eight thirty. I knew it would be difficult for you, another quarter of an hour wondering who it was that had taken a fancy to you, who your prospective client might be tonight, whose eyes were burning into you as you sat there looking so unmistakably, tantalisingly whorish. But my rules had been clear: no eye contact until I ask your name. My eyes remained fixed on you as I waited for your nerve to break, and as I did so I was undressing you, flicking through flashbacks of our previous encounters, considering what I might demand of you back at the hotel. Then your head tilted around, you scanned the bar and your eyes met with mine for the briefest moment before you turned back to your drink. There was shame in your shoulders and I watched as you began to fidget nervously with your glass. That was that. I would be demanding a lot of you tonight. Eight thirty. I sauntered over. "How much?" "One hundred an hour." Meek, coy, lovely. You didn't look up but I saw you watch my hand as it disappeared into my pocket. I folded two hundred pounds into yours. "Pardon?" I flexed my voice of authority. You shook a little. Then, softly, "One hundred an hour, sir." "Better. Come on." I pulled you along to the door, my hand on your arm. Not used to your heels you stumbled a little, but you kept up. My darling obedient girl, always compliant, conscientious. I sat down beside you in the taxi and was able to see the extent of the effort you'd made. Lips painted a deep, alluring red. Mascara, eyeliner, shadow, foundation, a little blush. You always looked beautiful but now here before me you smouldered, and I was ogling you unashamedly. Legs crossed, skirt riding up your thigh enough to show the tops of your stockings. Were you purposefully testing my restraint? Still your eyes were nonchalantly evasive, looking out the window, at the taxi meter, anywhere but at me, only your nervous fingers fidgeting with your hair giving away that this wasn't such a regular job for you. But I wanted your eyes now. "So, what's your name?" I ventured. When you turned towards me and you looked at me with such care, I almost forgot myself for wanting to wrap my arms around you, cherish you, protect you. I felt that way too much of the time for my own good. You replied, "Whatever you want it to be. Sir." Very well, I thought. With all my heart, I'll cherish you. In about two hours. Minx. I had already checked into the hotel, a soulless honeycomb of businessmen, rugby teams and conspicuous tourists; we cut a path through their hovering and flitting in the lobby towards the lift. I also looked the part, neatly turned out and sporting a suit, shirt and tie -- anyone would take me for just another young professional. And so would you. I pressed a button marked '8'. The doors closed behind us and we stood there quivering like a hand on a pulled arrow. I looked at you in the mirror, a voyeur to my own lover. "Busy night?" "None of your business, Sir." "Quite. Come." The doors pinged open and I led the way to my room, passing an older gentleman whose eyes I saw drop to your full cleavage, your pretty, shapely legs. I couldn't blame him, what with the unmistakable purpose of how you presented yourself, and so convincingly. Jealous old fart, probably looking back over his shoulder to check you out. Enjoy your movie, I thought, and pushed open the door to room 801. - "Stand." You were still as a post as I circled you, inspecting you, wanting to take in this perfect picture of promiscuity before the inevitable dismantling of your attire. Almost perfect, anyway - one detail was bugging me; a feint line around your hips, under your dress. I lifted the hem, and peered down. They were pretty panties, just enough to be decent and very tasteful. But they were panties nonetheless, and I had specified otherwise. I yanked them down your legs and showed them to you, finding a line of sweet wetness. "What kind of girl are you?" I said sternly, down into your wide eyes. "Are you trying to be some kind of high-class escort? Or are you the dirty little tramp I thought I was paying for?" "I-I'm a dirty, little..." "Tramp! Sir!" I finished your sentence for you, punctuating each word with a sharp smack on your exposed behind. "Yes, sir." you quaked. I grabbed your arm and dragged you from the soft yellow light of the bedroom through to the ensuite bathroom, gleaming white tiles, formica and steel. I stood you in front of the mirror, the lights either side illuminating you brightly and clearly. "Look at yourself. What are you?" "I'm a dirty little tramp, sir." I was standing beside you, looking at you in the mirror. You returned my gaze. I bent you over and you steadied yourself with your forearms on the edge of the sink. You must have watched me as I lifted your dress and smacked out the words, "Look! At! Yourself!" When I looked back in the mirror, your eyes were trained on themselves, on your arms and shoulders, on the cleavage that rippled with my caresses and swelled with your breath. You'd adjusted your posture, too -- back arched seductively, offering your behind to me, twitching proudly under my warm hand. I patted you softly. It was a welcome invitation. "Don't move." I deftly unbuckled my belt and unfastened my trousers, pushing them down my legs with my pants in a vaguely ungraceful puddle of clothes around my feet. My cock sprang up and I began to stroke myself to my fullest. Standing behind you, you felt me rest the wet tip against your soft bottom as I slowly touched myself, leaving trails of pre-cum on your creamy skin. My other hand was busy enjoying the swell of your hips, teasing fingertips stroking your sides and studying your wonderful shape, grabbing you, filling my strong hand with the soft flesh of your ample bottom, drawing a moan from you. "You like me being firm with you like that, don't you whore?" Cool, calm, on top. "Yes sir." Blushing, bashful and completely honest. Your words were cut short by a sharp gasp that accompanied the familiar sting of my palm on your rump, and then my fingers digging into your delicious flesh. My hand came away leaving its image in blood drawn to the surface of your skin. "And like that?" I looked at your face in the mirror, your eyes closed for a moment as you focused instead on the sensation, opening slowly to look straight back into themselves. You were biting your lip. Good girl. "Yes sir." There was a shiver on your breath. You trembled as you felt my fingers between your legs, sliding one between your delicate folds and inside. It came out slick with your excitement, and I reached over to push my finger into your mouth. You sucked hungrily, cleaning my finger with your tongue, wallowing in your submission and probably quite enjoying the way you tasted. "You really are a dirty little tramp, aren't you?" I said partly for my own pleasure, my eyes trained on your pretty bottom as my hand came down on it again with a sharp crack. "Yes sir. Yours, sir." you gasped. "You're enjoying me treating you like this," -- smack -- "making my mark on you," -- smack -- "making sure you know you're mine," -- smack -- "aren't you?" You whimpered an answer, lost in the truth of my statements. I drew you out of your trance with another sharp crack. "Aren't you?" I said, my hand in your hair, pulling your head around to face me. Your eyes raised, hypnotised. "Yesss." Before you knew what was happening, I had sat on the edge of the bath and pulled you across my lap. I grabbed your wrists and pulled them firmly behind your back, holding them in place with one hand as I pinned you down, the other hitching up your skirt to pat you. Then a pause while I reached down to the floor for something -- you heard my belt buckle -- and the folded leather coming down on your beautiful behind, again and again. "Yes... Sir! Do you understand?" "Yes Sir! Sorry Sir!" You panted, mouth hanging open, eyes shut tight, your whole body bucking with each blow as I left stripe after red stripe on your pale flesh. Feeling you squirm, I ran my palm over your glowing skin, enjoying the heat I'd brought to it. "Now, are you going to behave for me, whore? Or will I have to discipline you again?" "I'll behave, Sir." "Good girl. Well, just to make sure..." Holding your wrists firmly together, I slipped the leather belt around and between them, knotting and buckling it tightly. "Free yourself." I commanded. Still bent over my knees and prone, I watched you struggling with your ties until I was satisfied that you were truly bound. I pulled you to your feet, smiling, lost in our game. "Look at yourself now." I spun you around and lifted your skirt so you could see your backside, hot red stripes framed beautifully between the black stocking tops and the hem of your lifted skirt. "Better?" "Yes Sir." "Good. Come." Grabbing you by your elbow, I led you through to the bedroom and firmly pushed you down to your knees beside the bed, unceremoniously feeding my strong, wet cock into your hungry mouth. There was little tenderness about it, I wanted to show you that I was willing to use you just as you wanted to be used, and that I wasn't afraid to test your limits. We would develop a new etiquette in trust, and be free to express our deepest and most pressing urges. Right now my urge was to feel your sweet, warm, wet mouth enveloping me, so I watched your pretty painted lips glide down my shaft, accepting inch after inch of me so eagerly, so willingly. Then my hand clutching at a fistful of hair and pushing you down on me, I took your soft, pretty mouth as mine, enjoying feeling my cock filling your mouth completely, testing the opening to your throat and listening to you gag just a little. And I was adoring you, every second I adored you, my wonderful girl. I pulled you off me, and turned your face up to look at me. Your eyes opened languorously and met mine in a deep, smouldering smile, showing me how happy you were to be taken like this, to be tested, to obey. I stroked and patted myself against your soft cheek, making your skin glisten, every little action a reminder of my power over you, and an opportunity for you to show your willing subservience. I looked down at you; your dress fanning over your pretty thighs, it rode up past your stocking tops and showed off the swell of your hips. My sweet little whore. I'm going to fuck you now, I thought to myself. Wordlessly, I grabbed your arm and pulled you to your feet again, shoving you down on the bed and rolling you over on to your front. Now my hands on your hips to pull your sweet behind up towards me, then in your hair to push your head firmly down against the mattress, your wrists still bound, your body still prone, your mind still willing, and -- I ease a finger inside you -- your sex still wet and ready. "Horny little slut," I mutter to myself, lifting your skirt up once more and planting a firm smack on your still-red cheek, making you buckle and moan. "You want to touch yourself, don't you?" "Yes sir..." you moaned. Smack -- "Show some manners, girl." "Yes sir, please sir..." You were waiting for me to unfasten your wrists, but instead you only heard me fumbling through my wash bag behind your back. A pause as I rolled the condom down while you waited patiently, exposed and utterly vulnerable. Then you felt it -- the smooth cool tip, parting you, teasing you, opening you, and pushing steadily deeper inside you, stretching and filling and fitting. My hands grabbing your hips and pulling you to me until your buttocks are pressed hard against my lap. Only then did you feel me tugging at the belt, loosening it, freeing you; I watched your fingers find your clit and begin rubbing, glancing against my cock as I held myself there deep inside you. "I'm far too good to you.", I muttered distractedly, holding you still while I withdrew myself almost completely, just so I could enjoy feeling your warmth enveloping me completely again and again, moving faster, stronger, deeper. Hungry for me, you started to push and pull against me, urging me to take you harder, faster. Naughty girl, trying to take control; I smacked you very sharply once, twice, and filled my hands with your soft flesh as I started to fuck you so strongly, shoving you back and forth, on and off me in a blur, using my darling girl as the fucktoy that you had so convincingly presented yourself as. I felt myself swell inside you as your pussy milked me, sucked at me, instinctively coaxing me towards filling you with my seed as you approached your orgasm. But I had another idea, another way I could make you feel the whore you were for me at that moment. I could sense your disappointment when I withdrew, more so when you heard me hurriedly pulling off the condom, but I'd paid to do as I wished to you, and I would do exactly that. Laying my heavy cock on the small of your back, slippery in the groove of your beautiful arse, I began to rock back and forth with my hand holding me against you, easing myself towards my orgasm. I pushed your dress up to expose your back, and placing one hand on your blushing bottom I patted you firmly and fondly, drawing appreciative squirms. Your stifled, girlish cries pushed me close to cumming all over my sweet, obedient girl, as I watched your hand moving in a furious blur between your legs, desperate to cum for me, for you. Your breathing deep and irregular, your body shaking, and then it was all happening at once -- my body tensed as I came with you, across your back, in your hair, on your dress, marking you, my sweet lover, my beautiful whore. "Good girl, my good girl..." I barely knew what I was saying as the waves of pleasure faded away. Slumped beside you, dizzy and sated, I looked into your eyes with all my love and as much mischief as my hand softly smoothed over your arse. "Can I have my money back now? I'd like to spend it on you again some time." You shot me a cheeky faux-shocked look. I flicked off the light and dove at you, and after the giggles petered out we lay glowing against each other until the morning. Dirty Weekend Ch. 02 "Think of it as a take-away." "Sir?" You looked around the large but rather beige hotel room and saw the digital camera beside the bed. You understood. "Sir, that will cost extra. Half as much again. Sir." Mischief danced across your face. "Ah." I looked in my wallet, considering the amount. It was a disappointing outcome. "Oh dear. I don't think I can afford that. I suppose you'd better go. Sorry." The dancers turned to cold statues. "Sir?" I sighed. "I only have so much money, I just want to take these photos. That's all I asked you here for. Never mind." "But Sir --" "If you're not going to take what I can give you, just go." You looked almost crestfallen. After all the effort of dressing for me earlier that evening, thinking of what I might demand of you this time while you rouged your lips and painted your nails to match, after having to talk yourself out of touching your aching pussy once they'd dried, I knew you weren't going to leave without at least sucking me off. I had pretty much finished packing my camera away when I turned around to see you still standing there, pouting indignantly, arms folded. "Well? What are you doing here?" I demanded. I watched as you slowly sashayed over to the bed, climbed on, and crawled on hands and knees to the middle, finally settling with your bottom proudly raised and offered, shoulders low, back arched, legs slightly parted. "Anything you want. Sir." "And exactly what is this going to cost me?" You were very deliberately making yourself irresistible to me. If I'd actually had the money, I probably would've paid. A lot. "Nothing." The word resonated in my mind. And my cock. "And for the photos?" I was trembling with lust. "Half as much again." So be it. "Half as much again..." I strode over to the bed and lifted your dress over your bottom, bringing my palm down on you so sharply that it stung even my hand. "...Sir! Where are your manners, girl?" I taunted, enjoying the sight of you recoiling gasping out in wanton surprise. "Sorry, Sir," came your meek reply. "Hmm. So you're willing to be my whore for free, are you?" I pulled your hair to turn your head around to face me. "Yes Sir." You whimpered breathlessly. "And you're happy to pose for me, are you? Be my model?" "Yes Sir..." "For free - you must actually want to do this. Is that right?" -- Smack -- "Do you want me to have photos of you, looking so whorish?" -- Smack -- "Do you like the thought of me looking at photos of you while I touch myself?" -- Smack -- "Any time I want?" -- Smack -- "Do you?" It took you a moment to compose yourself. You were panting. "Yes Sir. You can do whatever you want with me, to me, Sir. Please Sir." I thought for a moment, held myself back from pulling your panties aside and fucking you right there and then. "Okay. Stand by the bed." I unzipped the camera case and trained the lens on you, wearing a veneer of calm over my urgent schoolboy desire. Your flushed cheeks, your wicked eyes, your tiny dress, fishnet stockings, heels -- even in your clothes you looked utterly pornographic. Click. "Now, on the sofa, sit. Knees together, hands on knees. Look up at me with those eyes..." My pretty, horny little girl, your low cut dress showing off your beautiful soft cleavage. Click. "Recline for me, on your side." Click. "On your back... Part your legs a little. Good." I let my camera look up your dress as it fell around your bottom. Click. "Now stand. Unfasten your dress for me." Hands fumbling with the zip behind your back, breasts jutting out proudly. Click. "Push it down over your breasts, so it's around your waist." Blushing and coy, you revealed your pretty bra to me. Click. "Turn around... Put your hands on the back of the sofa, that's right. Mm, hitch up your skirt a little." Your shapely, stockinged legs and your glowing behind, so dirty. Click. "Look over your shoulder at me." I moved closer, keeping your pantied bottom in focus, framed by the lacy pleated hem of your dress. Click. "Good girl. Now, take off your dress and bend over the sofa. Knees together. Offer yourself." Click. I roughly yanked your panties down to your knees, giving you a single slap on your behind for good measure. "Hands on your bottom. Good, now spread your cheeks for me. Let me see. Go on, spread." Hesitantly, you did as you were told and exposed yourself to me, embarrassed but still patiently obedient. Click. I couldn't resist running my finger down along your most private place, teasing over your tight little hole and parting the glistening folds of your pussy, slipping a couple of fingers inside. "Sweet whore, so wet for me." I purred as I gently stroked my fingers back and forth inside you. "Nice to think there are still people who enjoy their work." I carried on touching you, lightly caressing the backs of your thighs with my other hand, until you started to rock back against my hand, moaning softly with pleasure. "Take over. Don't cum." I watched you reach down between your legs. Click. Putting the camera down, I started to take off my clothes. "You will do hardcore, won't you?" Lost in your pleasure, you forced out a petite "yes" in between lustful pants as you considered what I might have in mind for you. It was no great shock when you felt me kneeling behind you, pushing my hardness into you so deeply and holding myself there, trapping you against the sofa. I reached over to take a photo from the side. Click. I started to take you quite slowly, pulling myself almost all the way out with each stroke, enjoying watching my entire length disappearing inside you each time. Click. My hand in your hair, pulling you firmly towards me. Click. "Mmm, my girl." I patted your arse playfully as I took you, and then -- smack -- not so playfully. "I bet you'd like to see what you look like when I've been spanking you, wouldn't you?" I watched your fingers moving faster between your legs as you whimpered in agreement. Without warning I pulled you to your feet and led you around the side of the sofa, firmly pushing you down over the arm so your bottom was raised and your shoulders down, face pressed sideways against the seat. And without the slightest complaint, my good little sub girl. Click. Kneeling to your side, I moved back to enjoy you with my eyes, letting my hands caress your soft curves, teasing your skin with my fingertips, along your sides, over your bottom, your thighs, your nylon-clad calves, making your head spin in anticipation of that first delicious shock of pain. "What do you say?" "Please, Sir." "Please Sir what Sir? What do you want?" You wriggled, shy to use the language I was demanding of you, embarrassed by how much you enjoyed submitting to my every whim. My fingers drummed on your buttocks, teasing. "I want you to spank me, Sir. Please. S..." I silenced you with one, two, three, four, five hard smacks to your nearest buttock. You moaned, writhed as my strong fingers dug into your flesh. "More?" "Yes pl..." Another five to your other side, each one accompanied by a tiny little cry, and ending with long, wanton gasp. Your breath drew through lustfully parted lips, swollen and shining a glossy scarlet, tarty and inviting. I couldn't help myself from sliding your head across to the edge of the seat and feeding my stiff cock between them; you obediently took me, turning your head further towards me to help, trying to work your mouth up and down me. I started to rock back and forth, fucking your mouth with deep, long strokes. Click. Of course, I had no intention of neglecting you, and returned my attention to your beautiful bottom. Holding myself still, quite deep inside your mouth, I treated you to another volley of ten firm smacks, your little moans escaping through your nose as you coped with your punishment so dutifully. "You're rosy," I said, pulling out of your mouth and patting my wet, heavy cock against your cheek, "but not nearly enough so. What do you say?" "Thank you, Sir." you surrendered. My hand had disappeared between your legs, and I slipped a couple of fingers inside again to make sure you were happy and wet for me. Encouraged, I decided I would give you ten more spanks, but for the sake of the photos I would use the hairbrush you had been preparing yourself with earlier. Pinning you down firmly against the sofa with one hand, I wasted no time in using it on you, each rapid blow falling on the same spot on each buttock, making you cry out sharply and leaving raised little welts. I looked at your face; eyes tightly shut, a thin line of mascara down your cheek, panting with lust. "Better?" I queried, softly. You opened your eyes to look straight at me, your face filling with love and warmth. "My sweet darling girl." I stroked your hair lovingly. Click. "It's time for your money shot. You know what that means?" "No, Sir." "It means I'm going to cum over you, over your pretty, slutty face. And then I'm going to take a photograph. Get on your knees. Now, girl." You did as you were told, and I walked behind you to unclasp your bra, leaving you just in your stockings, heels and makeup. "Touch yourself, whore. And tell me when you're close." I watched as your fingers deftly located your clit and started rubbing furiously, your cheeks flushed, bottom lifting from your heels as your muscles tensed, bouncing as if you were straddling someone on the floor. Your other hand made its way to your breasts, kneading them, pinching, tugging at your nipples. Click. "You're a natural, honey. My very own trainee porn star. Good girl." For a moment I let myself look at you in exactly that way, ogling you like a picture in a magazine. Appropriately enough, I was stroking myself, and I was hard, wet. Moving closer to you, my hand found the back of your head and grabbed at your hair, holding you still while I stroked my dripping wet cock across your lips. Your mouth hung open, inviting me; I felt your panting breath on my cock as it hovered in front of you. My dirty girl. Click. I pushed my cock into your mouth, forcing your head down on me; your eyes shut tight as I held myself against the back of your throat. Click. I pulled out again, my fist quickly moving up and down my length just inches in front of your face. "Can I cum, Sir?" you gasped. "Wait." You whimpered softly, my hand moving faster, and you watched wide-eyed as I tensed up. "Now, girl. Come for me. Open wide, that's it." The sight of you frantically fingering yourself as you kneeled before me open-mouthed and waiting for my cum, losing yourself in playing my filthy whore, drove me over the edge. I kept watching as my cum splashed over you from your chin to your forehead, in your hair, your eyes, dripping down on to your breasts, your thighs. You were moaning, shuddering, cumming so strong as I emptied myself into your mouth, on to your outstretched tongue. Click. I smiled down at you as you swallowed. Some cum had dribbled down onto my finger, which I offered to your mouth. "Clean me." After licking and sucking my finger clean, I placed my cock at your lips; you enveloped the tip and sucked at me so lovingly, looking up into my eyes, your face still covered in my cum. Click. "Good girl, now go tidy yourself up." By the time you got back from the bathroom, I was already importing the photos into my computer. "Come see what a good girl you are." You took off your heels and stockings and joined me on the bed, nestled under my arm with your head on my chest. You were soft and docile, and quite irresistible; putting my laptop aside I turned to you and just held you close, dotting kisses across your face, basking in the glow of your smiling eyes, heavy-lidded and adoring. Your cool skin still smelt faintly of my cum, the only reminder of our little game as we lay there in love and fell asleep.