The last client was moderately decent looking, either late 30s or early 40s. The car was decent, and his outfit was the business casual type. When he asked me what my rate was for sex, he seemed slightly taken aback when I gave him my price, but after a few moments of thought, he agreed.
It seemed ideal. He seemed to be middle class, and I could have imagined him being one of my lovers, so, already turned on, I was more than eager to make love to him.
We went to a nearby hotel, you know the kind, pay by the hour, not by the night.
He seemed nice enough, if a little touchy, grabbing my ass a couple times on our way up the stairs to the second story. He gave me a hand as we walked up, opened the door for me to enter, the softly closed the door.
Sadly, that is where the nice ruse ended.
Immediately upon closing the door, he pulled the back of my blouse, hard, causing the buttons to rip off and my blouse to rip open, jerking me backwards and causing me to suddenly cry out in fright. He continued pulling until my blouse was gone, ripped off of me.
He grabbed my arm and flung me to the bed in the room. Over my shouts demanding to know what he was doing, to stop it, to let me up, to leave me alone, he continued ripping my clothes off. He grabbed my bra in front and pulled, scratching me with his fingernails, breaking the back clasp, stretching the straps until their clasps broke, then threw it across the room.
He slapped me, growling at me to shut up. I screamed, and he hit me across the chin, and I could feel my vision swim before me, the lights dimming slightly before coming back into focus.
He then started tugging at my skirt, not bothering to try to undo it, not even bother trying to pull it off normally, but instead ripped it off me, much like my shirt. He then ripped off my panties, the sides cutting into me until the fabric finally parted, ripping.
Finally, he pulled my shoes and socks off. I lay there, naked before him, him panting in brutal lust, me panting in fear.
Reaching down, he grabbed my nipples, pulling hard, causing me to scream again. Slap, and I stopped screaming. He then started hitting my breasts, slapping them so hard I could hear it. I felt like throwing up, but he kept on, brutally.
He forced my legs apart, then entered me, dry. I screamed again and he punched me, right in the stomach.
Breathless, I couldn't suck in air to feed my lungs, let alone to scream again. He rammed himself in me, over, and over, and over, until I could feel him shutter, cumming inside me. All together, it lasted only a few minutes, but seemed to last forever. I could feel my face getting puffy, my breasts tender and sore, my pussy hurting. He then wormed his fingers into my already aching pussy, pushing them in, all the way up to his knuckles, ramming them in over and over, feeling almost like he was hitting my pussy with a fist. Over and over, until I was openly weeping, then, penis hard again, he put it back in me and started the pounding again.
This time he kept on for longer, pausing when it seemed he was close, slapping my breasts, and my face when I was too loud. At last, he finished again, this time pulling himself out and cumming on my stomach and breasts.
Throwing down the money on the bed, he dressed, cleaned himself a bit and left, leaving me on the bed, his cum on me, inside me, drying, tears rolling down my cheeks, not quite a full throated sob.
Gathering up my clothes, I tried to put the tatters on me, tried to cover myself up with what was left of my once sexy little outfit. Hiding at every car, every sound, every shift of light, I made my way back to my car, driving home.
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