A Whore's Tale

i lay my head on his muscular chest, listening for the rhythmic thumping that usually lulls me to sleep. on this night, however, nothing could make me sleep.
the scent of my betrayal still stains the air
my lover does not suspect, will not suspect, that the toolbox the ‘carpet cleaner’ walked out carrying holds a pair of my silken red underthings. he does not register that the full lips he pressed his own to pouted even fuller because of another man’s violent kisses.
he did not guess that the moist arousal between my thighs was not entirely from his hand.
he is a fool.
we made passionate love on the very bed that my lover and i now slept in, this ‘other man’, and i. who is he? no one. a man i passed on the street, near a news stand. a man whose eyes burned hot, lusty holes through the thin summer dress i wore, who watched hungrily as i adjusted the thin, useless straps and ran my fingers through my hair.
on a whim, i turned around and walked up to him. inviting him over for coffee was no large feat.
we walked inside and
i closed the door.
immediately he threw me against the wall, rough, as though expecting resistance, a fight. what he received was an animal. a heated burst of energy swelled within my skin, and the sensuous hellcat that is me awoke. i lashed at him with my nails as he wrapped his thick hand around my throat. using the wall for support, i leaped up to wrap my legs around his waist and bucked my pelvis against his violently.
our mad, lustful thrashing finally ended up in my bedroom, where we discarded our clothes haphazardly. when he got to my red panties
he cut them
with the knife i keep next to my bed. with a lecherous grin on his face, he lifted the moist fabric to his nose and inhaled deeply of my scent. i stared up at him, fire smoldering in my eyes, daring him to take me…
and he did. with all the force of a man gone mad, he took from my body all the pleasure he could. with a hard slam he was inside of me, knocking the breath out of me. i gasped, and he withdrew his cock for a moment… only to slam into my cunt again.
this was being used.
our sex was forceful, almost rape, and many women would have called it degrading. but the knowledge that my body was being used as a toy for another’s pleasure quickly brought me to a full and shuddering climax. and as i came, i looked up at his red and perspiring face, moaning for him to
call me a whore, tell me im a dirty slut
and these words alone were enough to cause his own orgasm, which was hard enough to cause him to cry out.

from under the bed, i withdrew a small toolbox and put my ruined panties into it. as my lover walked inside after a hard day’s work, i let the ‘carpet cleaner’ out.
oh, to be used.