Sinful Whore

The tone of his voice changed. His eyes hardened. He seized my hand and pulled it from his crotch. I gasped at how tight his grip was. He stood, his chair sliding back on its wheels, and marched around his small desk, pulling my arm with him. I knocked over his pen cup, spilling them across the floor.

“You really want to be a whore, Alexandra?” he demanded.

The word sent a shudder through me. I almost blurted out, “I want to be a whore just like your wife.” But I didn’t. I had a feeling that wouldn’t end well. No man liked to hear his woman cheated on him, even when he was about to have a sixteen-year-old suck on his cock.

“Yes,” I said instead.

He smiled, his eyes flicking down to my bodice. The dress was tight, my breasts swelling the front. I was already bigger than my mother. Nice, round double D’s, the envy of all the girls at school. And it was clear he appreciated them.

“You’ve really turned into a strumpet,” he said. “I’ve noticed the way you’ve grown, matured. I’ve wondered i