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have your wedding night. But remember, no matter whose cock goes in your pussy first, you'll always be my slut."
I can't stop thinking about him. Even when I'm next to Tahir, pretending to be the devoted fiancée, my mind is on Mr. Ben. What would he do to me if he were here? How would he fill me, stretch me, ruin me? My pussy gets so wet just imagining it, and I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning out loud.
This is my life now—a perfect wife on the outside, a filthy whore on the inside. And it's all because of Mr. Ben. He showed me who I really am, and on my wedding night, he proved it. Let me tell you how it happened.
Chapter 2: The Wedding Date Nine months. That's how long it's been since I started working as Mr. Ben's PA. Nine months since my life turned upside down, and I discovered the filthy whore living inside me. Nine months of sneaking into his office, pulling up my skirt, and spreading my legs for him. Nine months of being his slut.
Tahir has no idea. My father has no idea. They think I'm still the perfect, obedient Zainab, the devoted fiancée, the loving daughter. But every time I'm bent over Mr. Ben's desk with his cock buried in my ass, I know the truth: I'm his. His filthy little secret. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
But on this day, something felt different. My stomach twisted as I walked into his office, my nerves fraying at the edges. My father had set the date. My wedding was happening, and the thought of it made my chest tighten. Not because I was excited—no. Because it meant leaving behind the man who had awakened me, who had made me feel things Tahir never could.
Mr. Ben sat at his desk, his shirt unbuttoned just enough to show the strong lines of his chest. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing the veins in his forearms, and his dark eyes locked onto me the second I walked in. "You're late," he said, his voice low and commanding, making my knees weak.
"I... I had to have a serious talk with my father's first," I stammered, my voice barely steady as I stepped closer.
"And?" he asked, leaning back in his chair, his gaze sharp. He always knew when there was more.
I swallowed hard, my hands fidgeting at my sides. "He set the date. The wedding is in six weeks."
His expression didn't change at first, but then a slow smirk spread across his lips. "Well, congratulations," he said, his tone dripping with amusement. "You must be thrilled."
I looked down, unable to meet his eyes. "I... I guess."
He didn't miss a beat. "Guess? What's the problem, Zainab? Isn't this what you've been waiting for? A perfect little life with your perfect little husband?"
His words stung, but not because they weren't true. They were. I didn't want a perfect little life. I wanted him. My chest tightened as I stepped closer to his desk, my voice trembling. "Mr. Ben... I need to tell you something."
He raised an eyebrow, motioning for me to come closer. "Go on."
My heart raced as I rounded the desk, stopping just in front of him. His presence was overwhelming, his scent—a mix of cedar and something darker—filling my senses. I took a deep breath, forcing the words out. "I want you to be my first."
His eyes darkened, and for a moment, he didn't say anything. Then, slowly, he leaned forward, his hands gripping my hips and pulling me between his legs. "You want me to take your virgin pussy?" he asked, his voice rough, each word dripping with filth.
"Yes," I whispered, my cheeks burning. "I don't want it to be him. I want it to be you."
His grip on my hips tightened, his fingers digging into my skin. For a moment, I thought he'd say yes, that he'd finally give me what I'd been begging for. But then he chuckled, shaking his head. "No, Zainab. Your pussy stays pure for your wedding night. Let that idiot husband of yours think he's the first. Let him have that illusion."
"But I don't want him," I said, my voice breaking. "I want you."
He cupped my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. His eyes were sharp, commanding, and full of something I couldn't quite name. "Listen to me," he said, his voice steady. "You're already mine. Your mouth, your ass, your body—they all belong to me. But your pussy? That's for him. You'll walk down that aisle a ‘pure' little bride, just like your father wants. Let him have his night. But don't forget who owns you."
I nodded, my chest tight with disappointment. He was right. He was always right. But it didn't make the ache go away.
I tried to change the subject, my voice trembling as I said, "The wedding is going to be... modest. My father and Tahir can only afford the community hall."
Mr. Ben's smirk faded, his expression hardening. "A community hall? For my little slut?" He stood, towering over me, his hands sliding down my back to squeeze my ass. "No. That's not happening."
"What do you mean?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
He leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear as he said, "You deserve better. You'll have the wedding of your dreams—a five-star resort, the works. Your father won't pay a cent, and neither will that idiot Tahir."
My eyes widened. "You'd do that? For me?"
He laughed, slapping my ass hard enough to make me yelp. "Of course, I will. After all, I've trained you to be the best little whore a man could ask for. Consider it a reward."
I tried to thank him, but he cut me off, pulling me closer until my chest was pressed against his. "Call your father," he said, his voice low. "And that idiot fiancé of yours. Bring them here. I want to give them the surprise personally."
As I stepped back, my heart racing, he slapped my ass again, grinning as he said, "Go on, Zainab. Don't keep me waiting."
Chapter 3: The Wedding Proposal My panties are bunched around my ankles, my dress hiked up to my waist as I kneel between Mr. Ben's legs. My asshole is still gaping, tender from the brutal pounding he just gave me over his desk. I'm doing what good sluts do—sucking his cock clean, my tongue swirling around his thick shaft as I taste myself on him. His hands grip my hair, guiding my movements, and I moan around his cock, desperate to make him proud.
"You've learned so much, Zainab," he growls, his voice low and commanding. "Look at you, taking my cock like the filthy little whore you are."
I moan in response, my cheeks flushing as I bob my head, my hands gripping his thighs for balance. My jaw aches, my throat burns, but I don't stop. I can't. Not until he's finished with me. His cock twitches in my mouth, and I brace myself as he groans, his hot cum spilling over my tongue. I swallow every drop, savoring the salty taste as he pulls my hair, keeping me in place until he's satisfied.
"Good girl," he says, smirking as he lets go of my hair. "Now clean yourself up. We have guests."
The sound of the intercom startles me, and my heart skips a beat as I hear my father's cheerful voice. "Mr. Ben! Thank you for having us. Tahir and I are here."
My eyes widen, and I glance up at Mr. Ben, panic flashing in my gaze. He chuckles, completely unbothered, as he adjusts his pants and buttons his shirt. "Go on, Zainab," he says, his tone mocking. "Don't keep them waiting."
I scramble to my feet, my legs trembling as I pull up my panties and fix my dress. My cheeks burn as I rush to the bathroom, wiping my face and fixing my makeup. The taste of him still lingers on my tongue, and my pussy throbs at the memory of how he used me just moments ago.
When I return to the living room, my father and Tahir are already seated. My father looks around with awe, clearly still impressed by the grandeur of Mr. Ben's home. Tahir, on the other hand, fidgets awkwardly, his posture stiff and nervous. Mr. Ben greets them warmly, his charm as effortless as ever.
"Uncle, Tahir," he says, shaking their hands. "Thank you for coming. I wanted to discuss something important about Zainab's wedding."
I sit down quietly, my thighs pressing together as I try to suppress the flood of memories from earlier. My father smiles at me, oblivious to the tension in my body, while Tahir gives me a nervous grin. Mr. Ben, ever composed, leans back in his chair, his gaze flicking to me for just a moment before he speaks.
"Uncle," he begins, addressing my father, "Zainab has been an exceptional assistant. Dedicated, hardworking, always eager to please."
My breath hitches at his words, my cheeks burning as I remember the filthy things he said to me earlier. My father beams with pride, nodding in agreement. "That's my daughter," he says. "She's always been determined."
Mr. Ben's smirk widens, and I feel my stomach twist as he continues. "She's truly one of a kind. A fast learner, too. She knows exactly how to handle... pressure."
I squirm in my seat, my face hot as his words sink in. My father nods approvingly, clearly taking the comment at face value, while Tahir looks clueless as ever. I bite my lip, my pussy aching as I remember how he pulled my hair and called me his slut.
Mr. Ben shifts his attention to the reason for the meeting. "I've been thinking about Zainab's wedding," he says, his tone casual. "A community hall doesn't seem fitting for someone as exceptional as her."
My father frowns slightly, his expression tinged with embarrassment. "It's all we can afford," he admits. "We're doing our best."
Mr. Ben leans forward, his gaze softening as he addresses my father. "Uncle, let me help. Zainab deserves a wedding she'll never forget. I'll cover all the expenses—five-star resort, top-notch catering, the works. Consider it my gift to her."
The room falls silent for a moment as my father and Tahir process his words. My father's eyes widen, his expression a mix of shock and gratitude. "Mr. Ben... I don't know what to say. This is... it's too much."
"Not at all," Mr. Ben says, waving a hand dismissively. "Zainab has worked hard for me. She's earned this."
Tahir smiles awkwardly, clearly impressed but completely unaware of the double meanings in Mr. Ben's words. "Thank you, Mr. Ben. Zainab is lucky to have such a supportive boss."
Mr. Ben chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "It's the least I can do for Zainab. She's gone above and beyond for me in ways I can't even begin to describe." He pauses for effect, letting the words hang in the air before continuing. "She's always so... attentive. Zainab has this incredible knack for taking initiative. I'll just mention something, and before I know it, she's on her knees, fully dedicated to the task at hand."
I freeze, my face burning as his words sink in. My father nods approvingly, completely unaware, while Tahir beams with pride. "That sounds like her," Tahir says, clueless. "She's always been a hard worker."
"Oh, absolutely," Mr. Ben says, his smirk widening. "She's thorough, too. She doesn't stop until the job is done. And the way she handles... challenging situations? Let's just say it's impressive. She can take a lot and still leave me completely satisfied with the results."
Tahir laughs awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah, she's always been resilient. I'm lucky to have her."
Mr. Ben leans forward, his gaze flicking briefly to me before settling on Tahir. "You have no idea how lucky you are, Tahir. Zainab is one of a kind. She's flexible, eager, and willing to learn. She adapts to whatever I throw at her, no matter how demanding. She's truly remarkable."
My thighs clench involuntarily as I remember how he used me just moments ago, degrading me while I choked on his cock. My father smiles, completely oblivious, while Tahir nods, clueless as ever.
"You're going to have a very... fulfilling marriage," Mr. Ben adds, his tone dripping with amusement. "Just don't let her talents go to waste."
My cheeks burn, and I press my thighs together, my arousal threatening to overwhelm me. My father nods approvingly, completely oblivious, while Tahir beams with gratitude.
As the meeting winds down, Mr. Ben places a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm as he leans down to whisper in my ear. "You were such a good girl today, Zainab. I think you deserve a reward."
My breath catches, my heart racing as he squeezes my shoulder before stepping back. My father and Tahir remain oblivious, their smiles bright as they thank him once again.
"Uncle," Mr. Ben says, addressing my father, "let's finalize the details soon. Zainab, call them back here tomorrow. We'll iron out the rest."
I nod, my voice barely a whisper as I murmur, "Yes, Mr. Ben."
As they leave, I feel his eyes on me, a silent reminder of who I truly belong to. My heart pounds as I imagine what my reward will be, the taste of him still lingering as I watch my father and Tahir walk out the door, completely unaware of the truth.
Chapter 4: The Fairy-Tale Wedding The morning of my wedding was everything a bride dreams of—except my dreams weren't about Tahir. Sunlight streamed through the curtains of the resort suite, casting a golden glow over the bustling room. My female relatives fluttered around me, adjusting my dress, laughing, and chatting as they prepared me for the biggest day of my life. But as I sat on the edge of the bed, hands delicately held out while my cousin traced henna patterns onto my skin, my thoughts were far from pure.
I forced a smile as they cooed over how beautiful I looked, but my mind was elsewhere—on Mr. Ben. I could still feel his hands on me, his voice in my ear, commanding me to be the perfect slut. The lace lingerie beneath my dress was his gift, the delicate fabric brushing against my skin a reminder of who I truly belonged to.
"Are you nervous, Zainab?" one of my aunts teased, a knowing smile on her lips.
Before I could answer, another chimed in. "She should be! Tonight is a big night for her and Tahir. Isn't it, darling?"
Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I laughed softly, feigning shyness. "Auntie, please!" I said, shaking my head.
"Oh, don't act so innocent," one of my cousins teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "We've all been there. Just relax and let him take the lead. He'll be clumsy, but it's sweet in its own way."
Their laughter filled the room, and I joined in, forcing a blush to my cheeks as I played the part of the nervous bride. But inside, my stomach churned. Clumsy? Sweet? The thought of Tahir fumbling around in bed made me want to scream. I didn't want clumsy and sweet—I wanted control, dominance. I wanted Mr. Ben.
As they fussed over my veil and jewellery, my mind drifted back to the times Mr. Ben had prepared me for moments like this. I remembered standing naked in his bathroom, my body trembling as he guided my hands with his own, teaching me how to shave my pussy and asshole to his exacting standards.
"A good slut is always smooth," he'd said, his voice low and commanding. "I don't want to feel a single hair when I take you."
I shivered at the memory, the heat of his touch still imprinted on my skin. My pussy throbbed beneath the layers of my wedding dress, already slick with the arousal I could barely contain.
The ceremony was breathtaking, like something out of a fairy tale. The beachfront was adorned with white roses, the sound of the ocean waves providing a serene backdrop. My father walked me down the aisle, his face beaming with pride, and I felt a pang of guilt for the truth I was hiding from him.
Tahir stood at the altar, his nervous smile doing little to steady my nerves. My eyes darted to the crowd, searching for the one face I truly cared about. When I found Mr. Ben, sitting toward the back, my breath hitched. His dark eyes locked onto mine, and he smirked—a slow, knowing curve of his lips that sent a shiver down my spine.
As the vows were exchanged, I could barely focus. His gaze burned into me, and my body betrayed me, my pussy clenching involuntarily at the thought of what he would do to me if he were in Tahir's place. My hands trembled as Tahir slid the ring onto my finger, his own fingers shaking so badly he nearly dropped it. I caught Mr. Ben's smirk deepen, and my face flushed, the heat pooling low in my belly.
Throughout the ceremony, Mr. Ben made his presence known. When I walked down the aisle, I caught him licking his lips as his eyes raked over my body. During the exchange of rings, he tilted his head slightly, as if mocking the innocence of the moment.
When Tahir stumbled over his vows, Mr. Ben's expression was amused, his gaze flicking to me as if to say, You deserve better than this. I could feel the arousal pooling in my panties, the lace damp against my skin as I struggled to hold myself together.
The reception was lively, filled with laughter, dancing, and endless congratulations. My father was overjoyed, his pride radiating as he introduced me to every guest. Tahir was awkward but happy, his smile shy as he stayed close by my side.
But I couldn't focus. My thoughts were consumed by Mr. Ben. He was never far, his eyes always on me, his presence a constant reminder of what I truly craved.
At one point, Tahir suggested we take a walk on the beach. The moonlight cast a soft glow on the waves, and the sand was cool beneath my bare feet. His hand slipped into mine, tentative and unsure, his grip too light to steady me. He talked nervously about the future, his words fumbling as much as his steps. I forced a smile, nodding along, but each clumsy touch reminded me of how inadequate he was. My body ached for Mr. Ben's strength, his commanding presence, the way he could make me feel utterly consumed and alive with just a glance.
As we continued walking, I spotted Mr. Ben approaching us from the direction of the resort. My breath hitched, and my body immediately tensed, a mix of excitement and nerves washing over me. He looked effortlessly composed, his tailored suit unbuttoned slightly at the collar, exuding confidence as he strode toward us.
"Ah, there's the happy couple," he said, his voice smooth and warm, but his eyes lingered on mine just a moment too long. "Zainab, Tahir, I just wanted to congratulate you again. It's been a beautiful day, hasn't it?"
Tahir nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, Mr. Ben. Thank you so much for everything. We're really grateful."
Mr. Ben smiled, his gaze flicking to me, his smirk deepening as I squirmed under his attention. "If you need anything—anything at all—don't hesitate to let me know. My room is just upstairs, number 512."
The words hung in the air, dripping with unspoken meaning. Tahir, clueless as always, simply nodded, thanking him again. But I couldn't miss the glint in Mr. Ben's eyes, the silent challenge he issued as he turned and walked away. My heart raced, my body betraying me once more as I felt my pussy clench with anticipation, his room number etched into my mind.
Chapter 5: The Wedding Night The bridal suite was breathtaking, like something out of a dream. Rose petals scattered across the king-sized bed, candles flickering softly in the corners, and the faint scent of jasmine lingered in the air. It was the perfect setting for a bride's first night—but I knew there was nothing perfect about what was about to happen.
Tahir closed the door behind us, his nervous energy filling the room. "This is... beautiful," he stammered, his voice shaking slightly. He turned to me, his eyes wide and unsure. "You look... so beautiful, Zainab."
I smiled softly, playing the part of the blushing bride. "Thank you, Tahir," I said, my voice sweet and gentle. But inside, my thoughts were far from sweet. My pussy ached, not for him, but for Mr. Ben. I could still feel the lingering soreness from the times he stretched my asshole, the way he commanded my body and left me trembling, begging for more.
Tahir stepped closer, his hand brushing against my cheek as he leaned in for a kiss. His lips were soft but clumsy, and I had to fight the urge to pull away. His touch was hesitant, unsure, nothing like the confident dominance I craved.
"You're... nervous, aren't you?" I asked softly, forcing a shy smile.
He nodded, his cheeks flushing. "I just... I want this to be perfect for you."
Perfect. The word almost made me laugh. There was nothing perfect about Tahir fumbling with the zipper of my gown, his hands shaking as he tried to undress me. I bit my lip, swallowing my frustration as I reached back to help him.
When he finally managed to get the gown off, his breath hitched. I stood before him in the delicate lace lingerie Mr. Ben had chosen for me, the intricate design hugging my curves and leaving little to the imagination.
"You look... amazing," Tahir whispered, his voice trembling.
"Thank you," I murmured, my cheeks flushing as I pretended to be shy. But inside, I was comparing his wide-eyed awe to Mr. Ben's hungry gaze. Tahir looked like a boy seeing a woman for the first time, while Mr. Ben had always looked at me like he wanted to devour me.
Tahir began fumbling with his own clothes, struggling to unbuckle his belt and pull off his shirt. I sat on the edge of the bed, watching as he finally stripped down completely. My eyes immediately dropped to his cock—and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.
It was small, barely hard, and utterly unremarkable. A far cry from Mr. Ben's thick, veined cock that stretched me to my limits and left me gasping for air. I looked up quickly, forcing a neutral expression as Tahir shifted nervously.
Tahir climbed onto the bed, his hands trembling as he touched me. His kisses were hesitant, his movements awkward and uncoordinated. My body remained completely dry, unresponsive to his attempts.
When he finally positioned himself between my legs, I braced myself, expecting at least some semblance of effort. Instead, he fumbled, his soft cock pressing clumsily against my thigh.
"I... I'm sorry," he mumbled, his voice thick with embarrassment. "I don't know what's wrong."
I forced a sympathetic smile. "It's okay, Tahir. Don't worry."
Desperate to salvage the moment, he reached down and awkwardly pushed a finger into my dry pussy. I gasped at the sharp pain as my hymen partially tore, a small trickle of blood staining the pristine sheets.
"Ow!" I cried, jerking away from him.
Tahir's face turned pale. "I'm sorry, Zainab! I didn't mean to hurt you. I was just trying to..."
"It's okay," I said quickly, clutching the sheets to myself. "I think... I think that was my hymen. It's just... too much right now. Maybe we can try again tomorrow?"
Tahir nodded eagerly, relief washing over his face. "Of course. I want you to be comfortable. We have the rest of our lives."
As Tahir drifted off to sleep beside me, I lay there staring at the ceiling, my mind racing. My body burned, not with pain but with unmet need. My pussy ached, throbbing as images of Mr. Ben filled my thoughts.
I glanced at Tahir, snoring softly, his arm draped awkwardly over his chest. How could this man ever satisfy me? How could he ever compare to Mr. Ben? I closed my eyes, remembering the way Mr. Ben would bend me over his desk, his cock stretching me as he called me his filthy little whore. My thighs clenched involuntarily, my arousal growing with each memory.
Then, I remembered his parting words. Room 512.
My heart raced as I sat up quietly, careful not to wake Tahir. Grabbing my phone, I pretended to answer a call. "Hello? Baba?" I whispered, just loud enough to rouse Tahir.
He stirred, blinking groggily. "What is it?"
"It's Baba," I said, feigning concern. "He's having trouble finding his room. I'll just go help him quickly. I'll be back soon."
Tahir mumbled an acknowledgment, already half-asleep as I slipped on my robe and left the room.
The resort hallways were quiet, the faint hum of the air conditioning the only sound as I made my way to Mr. Ben's suite. My heart pounded with anticipation, my steps quickening as my arousal built with every step.
When I reached Room 512, I stopped, my breath hitching. My hand trembled as I raised it to knock, the heat pooling between my legs making it impossible to think clearly. My body screamed for him, every nerve alive with anticipation.
Chapter 6: The Escape I stood outside Room 512, my heart pounding in my chest, my body trembling with anticipation. My thoughts were a chaotic swirl of frustration, need, and arousal. Tahir's clumsy, pathetic attempts to touch me had done nothing but deepen the ache inside me. My pussy throbbed, wet and needy, and I knew there was only one man who could satisfy me.
My hand hovered over the door for a moment before I knocked softly, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway. My breath hitched as I heard footsteps approach, and then the door opened.
Mr. Ben stood before me, his bathrobe hanging loosely from his shoulders, revealing his sculpted chest and the confident smirk on his lips. His dark eyes swept over me, his gaze lingering on the flush in my cheeks and the way my body trembled under his presence.
"Well, well," he said, his voice smooth and teasing. "The blushing bride. Couldn't stay away, could you?"
Before I could think, before I could speak, I threw myself into his arms. My body pressed against his, desperate and trembling. "Please," I whispered, my voice shaking with need. "I can't... Tahir, he's pathetic. He couldn't even—he's nothing. Nothing like you."
He pulled back slightly, his eyebrows raised in amusement. "Oh? Did your darling husband fail to make you feel like a bride tonight?"
"Tahir..." My words spilled out in a frantic rush. "He's useless. His cock—God, it's so small—and he couldn't even keep it hard. He thought pushing a finger inside me would do something, but it just hurt. He thinks I'm not a virgin anymore, but I am. I've waited for this, Mr. Ben. I've waited for you."
His smirk widened, his hand coming up to cup my chin, tilting my face up so I had no choice but to meet his gaze. "And what exactly are you waiting for, Zainab?" he asked, his voice low and commanding.
"For you," I breathed, my words trembling with desperation. "I want you to be the first to take me. I want you to fuck me, to make me yours completely. Please, Mr. Ben. I want to be your slut. I want to be your whore."
His eyes darkened, a growl rumbling deep in his chest as he pulled me closer. "You've been waiting for this, haven't you? Waiting to be owned. To be used like the filthy little slut you are."
"Yes," I whimpered, my voice barely a whisper.
"Show me," he said, stepping back and letting his robe fall open.
My breath caught as his massive cock sprang free, thick and veined, the sight of it sending a jolt of heat through my body. I sank to my knees without hesitation, my hands trembling as I reached for him.
"Good girl," he murmured, his voice dripping with approval as I wrapped my fingers around his big cock.
I licked my lips, my eyes locked onto his as I leaned forward, taking the head of his cock into my mouth. The taste of him sent a shiver down my spine, and I moaned softly as my tongue swirled over the sensitive tip.
"You're such a good little whore," he said, his hand tangling in my hair as he guided me deeper. "This is what you were made for, isn't it? To serve me."
I moaned around him, my throat tightening as he pushed further in. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I didn't stop. I bobbed my head, my hands gripping his thighs as I worked to please him, to prove myself worthy of being his slut.
His grip on the back of my head tightened, his cock pressing deeper into my throat until my lips met the base. I gagged slightly, my eyes watering as he held me there, his smirk deepening as he watched me struggle.
"Look at you," he said, his voice rough with satisfaction. "Taking my cock like the perfect little slut you are."
Tears streamed down my cheeks, but I didn't pull away. I wanted this. I needed this. My hands clung to his thighs, my throat aching as I stayed still, letting him own me completely.
"Good girl," he murmured, his voice softer now, but no less commanding. "You're finally starting to understand your place."
His words sent a wave of arousal through me, my pussy clenching as I whimpered around his cock. This was what I'd been waiting for—what I'd been craving.
And I knew, deep down, that this was only the beginning.
Chapter 7: The Deflowering I barely had time to breathe before Mr. Ben's strong arms lifted me off my knees, his cock still glistening from my spit. He held me like I weighed nothing, his hands firm on my thighs as he carried me to the bed. My heart pounded, my body trembling with anticipation and need. This was the moment I'd dreamed of, the moment I would finally give myself completely to him.
He laid me down on the plush bed, the lace robe I wore slipping open to reveal the lingerie that clung to my curves. His dark eyes roamed over me, drinking in every inch of my exposed body. The way he looked at me, like he was about to devour me, made my pussy throb with desperate need.
"You've waited long enough, haven't you?" he murmured, his voice dripping with confidence.
"Yes," I whispered, my voice trembling. "Please, Mr. Ben. I need you."
A wicked smirk spread across his face as he knelt between my legs. His hands slid up my thighs, rough and commanding, as he hooked his fingers under the delicate fabric of my panties. He pulled them down slowly, the cool air kissing my soaked pussy as he tossed the lace aside.
"Look at this," he muttered, his eyes fixed on my glistening folds. "You're dripping already. Did that little nerd even touch you, or are you this wet just thinking about me?"
I moaned softly, unable to respond. His words, his presence—it was all too much.
He leaned in, his breath hot against my pussy, and then his tongue flicked out, teasing my clit. My back arched off the bed as the sensation shot through me, my hands gripping the sheets as I moaned loudly.
"You taste so fucking good," he growled, his tongue working in slow, deliberate circles around my clit. "Say it, Zainab. Say you've been waiting for this."
"I've been waiting," I whimpered, my voice breaking with desperation.
"For what?" he demanded, sliding two fingers into my dripping pussy, stretching me just enough to make me gasp.
"For you to fuck me," I cried out, my hips bucking against his face. "Please, Mr. Ben. I can't wait anymore. Take me, please."
His tongue and fingers worked me relentlessly, building me up until I was a trembling mess beneath him. My pussy clenched around his fingers, aching for more, for him, for everything he could give me.
When he finally pulled back, his face glistening with my arousal, I felt the loss acutely. He stood, towering over me, his thick cock in his hand as he positioned himself between my legs. I couldn't tear my eyes away from it—so massive, so perfect, so much more than Tahir
"This is what you've been waiting for," he said, his voice low and commanding. "To be fucked. To be owned. To have me take this tight little pussy and make it mine."
"Yes," I breathed, my body trembling as I spread my legs wider for him. "Please, Mr. Ben. Take me."
He pressed the head of his cock against my entrance, the size of it making me gasp. Slowly, deliberately, he began to push in. The stretch was immediate, a sharp pain shooting through me as my pussy fought to accommodate him.
I screamed, my nails digging into the sheets as he broke through, my virginity claimed in one powerful thrust. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I didn't pull away.
Mr. Ben leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered, "You're mine now. This pussy belongs to me. Say it."
"It's yours," I gasped, my voice trembling. "It's yours, Mr. Ben."
He began to move, slow and deliberate at first, letting my body adjust to the size of him. The pain started to fade, replaced by a growing pressure that sent waves of pleasure coursing through me.
"That's it," he growled, his voice rough with lust. "Take it, you little slut. You've been waiting for this your whole life."
I moaned loudly, my body arching to meet his thrusts as he filled me completely. Each stroke sent me higher, the intensity overwhelming as he drove me closer and closer to the edge.
"Say it," he demanded, his thrusts growing harder. "Say you love being my little whore."
"I love it," I cried, my voice breaking. "I love being your whore, Mr. Ben. Fuck me. Use me. Please."
My body trembled as the tension inside me built to a breaking point. His cock hit something deep inside me, and I screamed his name as the pleasure exploded, wave after wave crashing over me.
"You're mine," he growled, his hand gripping my throat lightly as he fucked me through my orgasm. "This pussy is mine. Say it again."
"It's yours," I moaned, my voice barely more than a whisper. "All yours."
Chapter 8: The Next Level I lay on the bed, my body trembling and glistening with sweat, my thighs still sticky from the intense fucking Mr. Ben had just given me. My pussy ached deliciously, stretched and filled for the first time in my life. Yet, as he pulled out of me, leaving me empty, a desperate whimper escaped my lips.
"Please," I whispered, reaching for him, my voice trembling with need. "Don't stop. I need you."
Mr. Ben stood at the edge of the bed, his massive cock still hard and glistening with my juices. He smirked, stroking himself slowly as he gazed down at me. "Oh, you need me, do you?" he teased, his voice dripping with arrogance.
"Yes," I pleaded, my breath coming in shallow gasps. "Please, Mr. Ben. I'll do anything."
His smirk deepened, and he stepped closer, his cock just inches from my face. "Anything, huh?" he murmured. "You're such a good little whore, aren't you? So eager to please."
I nodded, my cheeks burning with both shame and arousal. "Yes, Mr. Ben. I'm your whore."
He tilted his head, studying me with that piercing gaze that always made me feel completely exposed. "Do you trust me?"
"Yes," I breathed, my body trembling under his scrutiny.
"Good," he said, leaning down to brush his lips against my ear. "Because tonight, I'm going to take you to the next level. You want to be my slut? Then you'll do exactly as I say."
Before I could respond, he turned and picked up his phone, dialing a number with deliberate slowness. My heart raced as I watched him, a growing sense of dread and anticipation coiling in my stomach.
"John," he said smoothly, his eyes locking onto mine with a smirk. "The bride is here for us. Come to my suite."
My eyes widened in shock, and I sat up on the bed, clutching the sheet to my chest. "Wait, no," I stammered, my voice trembling. "Mr. Ben, I can't—I didn't mean—"
He ended the call and turned to me, his expression unreadable. "Shh," he said, crossing the room in a few long strides. He knelt in front of me, his hands resting on my thighs as he looked me in the eyes. "You said you trusted me. Do you?"
I hesitated, my lips trembling as I tried to find the words. "Yes," I whispered finally.
"Then let me show you how much pleasure you're capable of," he said, his voice soft but commanding. "This is what it means to be my slut. You'll take what I give you, and you'll love every second of it."
There was a knock at the door, and my breath hitched. I clutched the sheet tighter, my heart hammering as Mr. Ben smirked and strode toward the door.
When he opened it, John stepped inside. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his tailored suit accentuating his powerful frame. His sharp eyes raked over me, and a slow, predatory grin spread across his face.
"Well, well," John said, his voice dripping with amusement. "This is the bride? Didn't take you long to turn her into a dirty little slut, Ben."
My cheeks burned with shame and arousal as John's words hit me. I glanced at Mr. Ben, silently pleading with him, but he just smirked.
"She's perfect, isn't she?" Mr. Ben said, his tone casual as he walked back to the bed. He glanced at John, the owner of the luxurious resort, with a knowing smirk before turning to me, his expression hardening. "Go on, Zainab. Show John, the man who made this beautiful wedding possible, what a good little whore you are."
I shook my head, my voice trembling. "I can't. Please, Mr. Ben, I can't."
He knelt beside me again, his hand sliding up my thigh as he leaned in close. "Yes, you can," he murmured. "You said you trusted me. Let me show you how much you can take. You want to be my slut, don't you? My perfect little whore?"
Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but his words sent a shiver down my spine. My body was betraying me, the ache between my legs growing unbearable. I nodded slowly, my voice barely a whisper. "Okay. I trust you."
Mr. Ben turned to John, a smirk on his lips. "She's ready," he said confidently.
John stepped closer, unbuckling his belt and pulling out his cock. My eyes widened as I took in the size of it, my breath hitching as Mr. Ben gently guided me forward.
"Start with his cock," Mr. Ben commanded, his voice firm. "Show him what that mouth of yours can do."
My lips trembled as I leaned forward, my hands shaking as I reached for John's cock. The weight of it in my hand was overwhelming, but I pushed through, determined to prove myself. I parted my lips and took him into my mouth, the taste foreign and intense.
"That's it," Mr. Ben murmured, his hand sliding between my legs to tease my dripping pussy. "Good girl. Such a perfect little slut."
As I worked my mouth over John's cock, Mr. Ben positioned himself behind me. I felt his cock press against my entrance, and I moaned around John's cock as Mr. Ben thrust into me. The sensation was overwhelming, my moans muffled as I was filled completely from both ends.
The two men worked in perfect rhythm, their degrading words and commanding touches driving me to the brink. I lost myself completely, my body responding to every thrust, every demand. I was theirs, fully and completely, and I loved every second of it.
Chapter 9: The Bride Shared I was on my knees, trembling, my body a filthy mess of sweat and cum. My lips were swollen, my cheeks flushed, and my thighs sticky with my own arousal. Mr. Ben stood behind me, gripping my hips with his strong hands, while John's thick cock glistened in front of me, smeared with my spit. I could barely catch my breath, but I didn't want to stop. I didn't want them to stop.
"Ready to be completely ruined, my little bride?" Mr. Ben's voice was low and commanding, his cock pressing against my asshole, teasing me, making me squirm with need.
"Yes, Mr. Ben," I whimpered, my voice hoarse and desperate. "Please, use me. Fill me. Take me however you want."
He chuckled darkly, pulling a silk tie from the bedside table. I gasped as he tied it snugly around my eyes, the blindfold heightening every sensation. I couldn't see them, but I could feel them—Mr. Ben's strong hands gripping my hips, John's fingers tilting my chin up. My body was alive, trembling with anticipation.
"Beg," Mr. Ben growled. "Beg us to fuck you like the filthy slut you are. I want to hear how much you want it."
I moaned, my words tumbling out of me, shameless and filthy. "Please, Mr. Ben, please, John. Fill me. Use my pussy, my ass, my mouth—every part of me. I'm your slut. Your whore. Please, just fuck me."
John laughed, his fingers tightening on my chin. "Good girl," he said, his cock brushing against my lips. "Let's see how much you can take."
I opened my mouth, eager to obey, and he pushed his thick cock past my lips, filling my mouth completely. The weight of it made me moan, my tongue swirling over the head as he thrust deeper. My spit dripped down my chin, and I gagged as he hit the back of my throat, but I didn't pull away. I wanted to please him. I wanted to prove I could take it.
Behind me, Mr. Ben pressed the head of his cock against my asshole. I whimpered around John's cock, the stretch intense as Mr. Ben pushed forward, inch by inch, filling me completely. The burn made my body shudder, but I loved it. I needed it.
"Look at you," John sneered, gripping my hair as he fucked my mouth harder. "Taking us like the dirty little bride you are. You've been waiting for this, haven't you?"
I moaned around him, my cries muffled as Mr. Ben started to move, his cock stretching my tight asshole with every thrust. My body was on fire, every nerve alive as they used me. Tears streamed from beneath the blindfold, mixing with the drool on my chin, but I didn't care. I was exactly where I belonged.
"She's dripping everywhere," John laughed, slapping my cheek lightly as he pulled my mouth further onto his cock. "Such a messy little whore."
"Time to switch," Mr. Ben growled, pulling out of my ass with a wet pop. I gasped at the emptiness, my body already missing him, but he wasn't done. He grabbed my hips and lined himself up with my soaking pussy, thrusting in with one hard stroke.
I screamed, my body arching as he filled me completely, the stretch making my head spin. But before I could catch my breath, I felt John's cock pressing against my asshole.
"Oh God," I whimpered, trembling as the head of his cock pushed in. "It's too much... I can't—"
"Yes, you can," Mr. Ben growled, gripping my hips tightly. "You were made for this, Zainab. To take both of us at the same time. Now show us what a good little slut you are."
They moved together, their cocks filling me completely, stretching me to my limits. The burn and pressure were overwhelming, but it only made me wetter. My screams filled the room, muffled by the sheets as they took me relentlessly.
"She's so tight," John groaned, his hands gripping my hips as he thrust deeper into my ass. "Fuck, she was made for this. Look at her dripping all over us."
Their filthy words sent me over the edge. My body shook, and I screamed as the most intense orgasm of my life tore through me. My pussy clenched around Mr. Ben's cock, and I squirted hard, soaking his thighs and the sheets beneath me.
"Fuck," Mr. Ben laughed, slapping my ass hard. "Look at her. Cumming like the filthy little whore she is. You love this, don't you, Zainab?"
"Yes!" I screamed, my voice hoarse and broken. "I love it. I love being your slut. Please don't stop. Please!"
They didn't stop. They switched holes, fucking me harder, faster, their hands gripping me, slapping me, holding me in place as they used every part of me. My body was theirs, and I gave it to them completely, screaming their names as I came again and again.
When they finally reached their climax, it was almost too much. John slammed into my pussy, his cock twitching as he spilled inside me. At the same time, Mr. Ben thrust deep into my ass, groaning as he filled me with his cum. I could feel it dripping out of me as they pulled away, leaving me a trembling, sticky mess on the bed.
I collapsed onto the sheets, my body spent and shaking. Cum leaked from my pussy and ass, and my blindfold was damp with tears. I was a mess, a filthy, used-up mess—and I loved it.
Mr. Ben leaned down, brushing his lips against my ear. "You were perfect tonight, my little whore. But this is only the beginning."
A faint smile spread across my lips as I lay there, my body aching but my heart racing. I belonged to them now—completely and utterly. And I couldn't wait to see what they would do to me next.
Chapter 10: The Return I stood outside the door to the bridal suite, my legs trembling and my body aching in the most delicious way. My skin was still sticky, my pussy and asshole still sore, my thoughts racing with the memories of what had just happened. Taking a deep breath, I turned the doorknob carefully, slipping inside without making a sound.
The room was dark, save for the faint moonlight streaming through the curtains. The rose petals on the bed remained perfectly scattered, untouched and pristine, a mocking contrast to the filthy mess I had become. Tahir's soft snores greeted me, and I felt a wicked smile curl on my lips. My sweet, clueless husband—he had no idea what his new bride had been up to.
I tiptoed across the room, my robe clinging to my skin, damp with sweat and the remnants of my depravity. My legs felt weak, my thighs slick with the evidence of everything I'd endured in Room 512. When I reached the bathroom, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
My hair was a wild, tangled mess, my cheeks flushed, and faint bruises dotted my hips and thighs where Mr. Ben and John had gripped me. My lips were swollen, my makeup smudged, and my body bore every mark of the night's debauchery. I looked like a woman who had been utterly used—and I loved it.
I smirked at my reflection, running my fingers over the faint marks. My pussy clenched at the memory of Mr. Ben's thick cock stretching my asshole, filling me completely, while John thrust into my soaking pussy. I could still hear their degrading words, feel the slap of their hands on my skin, taste their cum on my tongue.
The thrill of it all made me shudder, my body still raw from the overwhelming pleasure of being taken by both of them at once.
After cleaning myself up as best as I could, I slipped into bed beside Tahir. He stirred briefly, his face soft and peaceful as he mumbled my name in his sleep. I leaned over and kissed his cheek, sweet and gentle, just as the perfect wife would.
"Goodnight, my dear husband," I whispered, my voice dripping with false innocence.
As I lay beside him, my mind raced, replaying every filthy detail of the night. The way Mr. Ben had blindfolded me, his commanding voice echoing in my ears. The way John had laughed as he gripped my hair, thrusting into my mouth with no mercy. And the way they both stretched me, filled me, used me until I had nothing left to give.
I thought about how it felt to have Mr. Ben's cock in my ass while John fucked my pussy, their rhythm perfect as they worked together to break me. My body trembled at the memory, and I squeezed my thighs together, trying to suppress the heat building inside me.
Tahir shifted beside me, murmuring something incoherent, and I smirked. He had no idea what kind of woman he had married. He thought I was pure, untouched—a perfect, traditional bride. And I let him believe it. That was the real thrill.
Chapter 11: The Global Whore The Zainab everyone knows—the dutiful wife, the modest daughter, the perfect bride—is nothing more than a lie. A façade I wear like a mask. Behind closed doors, I'm someone else entirely. I'm Mr. Ben's slut. His personal whore. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
Tahir thinks he married a pure, untouched woman, but the reality is laughable. My nights aren't spent cuddling in his arms, whispering sweet nothings. They're spent in five-star hotels across the world, my body bent and spread for men Mr. Ben introduces as "friends."
My life now revolves around him, and I live for every filthy, degrading moment. When Mr. Ben closes a business deal, I'm the final incentive—the prize that seals the agreement. Men who hold billions in their hands, who command empires, have their cocks buried in me, grunting like animals as Mr. Ben watches with pride. And I love it.
One night stands out above all others—a lavish party at a private villa in Dubai. The room was dripping in opulence, the marble floors reflecting the glow of chandeliers, and the air thick with the scent of cigars and expensive whiskey. I stood in the center, dressed in nothing but a sheer black lingerie set that barely covered anything, my nipples hard and visible through the fabric.
Mr. Ben sat in a leather chair at the head of the room, his gaze fixed on me with a mix of pride and ownership. "Gentlemen," he said, raising a glass of champagne. "Meet Zainab—my most prized possession. She's here to make sure tonight's deal is unforgettable."
A thrill shot through me as the men's eyes raked over my body. I felt their hunger, their power, and it made my pussy throb. Mr. Ben motioned for me to come forward, and I obeyed without hesitation, my heels clicking against the marble as I walked to him.
He tied a blindfold around my eyes, the silky fabric sending shivers down my spine. "Remember," he murmured, his lips brushing against my ear. "You're mine. But tonight, you belong to them too. Show them what a perfect little whore you are."
What followed was a blur of hands, mouths, and cocks. I was passed from one man to the next, each of them taking me in ways that left me trembling and drenched. One gripped my hair as he thrust into my mouth, another bent me over a glass table, spreading my ass wide as he pushed into me without hesitation.
I lost count of how many filled me that night—my pussy, my ass, my mouth. Their voices were rough, their words degrading, but I drank it all in like the filthy slut I am.
"She's so tight," one of them growled, his hands slapping my ass hard enough to leave marks. "Ben, you've trained her well."
"She was made for this," Mr. Ben replied, his tone dripping with pride. "Look at her, taking all of you like the perfect little whore she is."
Their laughter filled the room, but I wasn't embarrassed. I was proud. Proud to be his. Proud to be theirs.
By the end of the night, I was a wreck—my body covered in sweat, my skin marked by their hands, and my holes dripping with their cum. Mr. Ben untied my blindfold and helped me to my feet, his smirk widening as he looked me over.
"You did well tonight, Zainab," he said, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "You've outdone yourself. You've made me proud."
His words sent a wave of warmth through me, and I smiled despite my exhaustion. "Thank you, Mr. Ben," I whispered. "I live to serve you."
That's my life now. Tahir still thinks he has the perfect wife, but he doesn't know that while he's at home dreaming of a family, I'm in another city, on my knees for strangers.
And the truth? I love it. I crave it. I live for the moments when Mr. Ben parades me like a trophy, when I'm reduced to nothing more than a plaything for his associates. This is who I am. This is who I was meant to be.
So yes, I am Zainab—the perfect wife by day, and Mr. Ben's global whore by night. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
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