Carmella was in a hurry. She was a bit stressed out. The convention that had booked her as a guest artist lecturer had also booked her a signing engagement at a local store almost 45 minutes away from her hotel where the convention was happening, where she was staying. It wasn’t that big of a deal on most other days, but today it was one of the special occasions where it did matter.
To make matters worse she had just bumped into somebody’s car at the venue as she was leaving. She wouldn’t normally just drive off, but the damage looked very superficial, a little scraped paint, and she didn’t have the time to find the owner and swap information, not today. It was only as she was on the highway did she realize that she could have just left a note with her contact info, but Carmella had other things on her mind.
She knew she would get back to the hotel in time, but she really wanted to get there early, have a shower, a couple drinks to relax. Her sister co-ordinated these evenings for her and even though it wasn’t the first time, she was always nervous. After dinging that car and “fleeing the scene” she had her music cranked up and was flying high on octane and adrenaline. Even when some crazy driver was honking to get her attention and curse her out over something she just iced them out completely, not even looking at them. She wasn’t about to let anything get in the way of tonight.
At the hotel it took a while for the valet to take the car, because it was busy from the convention. She told him the room number, tossed him the keys and went up.
Out of the shower, fifteen minutes later, Carmella had over compensated for her nerves by making her way to the bottom of a wine bottle. She hated that she always got so nervous, but it wasn’t hard to see why. This wasn’t exactly what most people would call normal.
Looking at the clock she saw he wouldn’t be here for another half hour which was maybe a good thing, cuz she was pretty shitfaced right now and could use a moment to get her bearings. Flopping onto the couch in her panties and tank top, Carmella thought about how, despite the absurdity of it, she absolutely wanted this and badly.
Carmella was a visual artist. A painter. Her sister majored in business but when Carmella’s career took off first, her sister became her manager as well as her best friend, managing every aspect of Carmella’s life. Not in an oppressive way, though. Syndey’s attention to detail helped keep Carmella’s career on track. Plane tickets, dinner reservations, handling emails, taxes, payroll, you name it. It was Sydney who noticed that Carmella had this tendency to burn herself out on work. It was very productive but not so great for personal relationships with men. Sydney’s thought was that Carmella needed a stress relief and when she wasn’t in a relationship with a man for a while without sex, Carmella got snappy and her work ended up suffering. Sydney could be very persistent and when she decided on a solution, Carmella agreed to try it out once. An escort.
The first time it was just a dare between sisters and Carmella wasn’t going to back down. She was just doing it to prove she could handle it. After the first time though, she found the pleasure of the sheer physical rapture without the emotional attachment was freeing and enjoyable.
They would only set it up for engagements out of town on the road, after some big release they were working on. Perfect for hotels. They had done this maybe a dozen times now and as their very strange arrangement grew closer, Sydney was able to tailor her suitor for the more rough side of sex that Carmella seemed to respond to. They now had the exact profile to look for when fixing up a night like this.
There was a knock at the door. He was a half hour early. Carmella was still smashed and wobbly on two legs, cursing herself for being so uptight. Deciding, in her substantially inebriated state to throw caution to the wind and commit herself fully to getting her fuck on, when the door opened Carmella took one look at the guy and pulled off her top.
He was honestly shocked to see her answer the door in her panties but before he could address that she had peeled off most of what she was wearing.
Carmella had a great body. It wasn’t maybe supermodel standards, maybe she was a little pear shaped, but she tried to be strategic with her clothing to cover up anything she was insecure about. Not to say that she had a bad self image. There have been plenty of her fans who had crushes on her over the years. It was very flattering and ego affirming but obviously not a viable option for sex. Some of those dudes were straight up creepy pervs. She was sure they’d love to get their hands her pert B-cups and plenty of thickness below the equator. Short, thick and in stretchy pants, Carmella could be a force to be ensnared within.
She sensed his uncertainty, but her wine goggles were on, so instead she just made a crass assessment of him physically and beckoned him in, her tits swinging freely. He was pretty big, over six feet, and muscular. That was pretty much all she needed. Carmella always asked for a big guy. She rambled drunkenly to break the ice as she took off her panties, bending over at the waist and clambered onto the bed.
“So you can do what you like, I like to be thrown around a little, you know? Anything goes, I want you to hurt me, but don’t leave any marks. You know, leave marks, but they have to be below the clothing line. Not the face, but other than that… do your best.”
Face down on the bed, Carmella swiveled her hips to shift her big cheeks from one side to the other. She could hear his zipper and belt being fumbled with, pants hitting the floor. Slapping her ass playfully, she tried to further coax him to get rowdy with her. As it turns out, she didn’t need to try so hard and within seconds he was behind her, mounting her with vigor.
He was bigger than she expected. It wasn’t difficult to fill her with a few deft strokes into her sloppy wetness, but that last inch was that one inch too deep for her. Every time he bottomed out she was being punched in the cervix. He was bigger than most of her boyfriends and bigger than the few guys who’d shown up previously when Sydney had arranged for this service for her sister.
Maybe he wasn’t any bigger than her other stud suitors. Maybe it was just how enthusiastic he seemed to be, fueled by a determination to split her in half it felt like. Her ass rippled with each deep impact, sending her forward, except rough hands clamped onto her hip meat to hold her steady while he did his work. It was savage and it was brutal and it hurt. It was everything Carmella needed and wanted.
The moment he entered her on that first deliberately slow and unstoppable first stroke in, Carmella came, dripping satisfaction. She had been so pent up in the past weeks and she had worked hard and stressed out and now it was time to relieve herself of all that.
The first five minutes this guy was a machine, pistoning in and out of Carmella’s still constantly quivering sex and Carmella wasn’t sure whether any or all of that was an orgasm, right through the pain of his gut punching cock hammering. She still came. She was screaming bloody hell as he rutted her deeply, but nothing stopped his assault. Occasionally his hand came down again on her red cheeks to really drive himself home. His grip on her hip fat was vice like leaving her feeling defenseless against his assault.
Carmella had never felt so conquered. Most of the other escorts were much more restrained to start, finding out where her comfort zone was, but Carmella had to admit she came on strong to start with. This guy wasted no time. Before the first five minutes were up, Carmella was a drunken puddle of her own cum, wanting aftercare already, but with his thumb plunging in and out of her sweaty butthole and his shlong, balls deep in her stretched out pussy, there was no sign he was stopping anytime soon.
This was everything she wanted but couldn’t say. The total release of control, the fear and excitement of something that felt real and not rehearsed or manufactured. Just raw, ferocious animal fury working her over and turning her out.
She was grateful for his initiative, taking and plundering to alleviate her any sense of her responsibility to make choices or set limits and dull the experience. Her fear was even part of it. Heightening every sensation as he pressed the big head of his weapon into her o-ring and instead of protesting, she gripped the edge of the mattress and did her best to open up for him.
He pushed and she grit her teeth. Carmella was pretty sure he tore something inside her, not badly but enough for it to hurt more than usual. Her ass was pretty tight. If she wasn’t paying for this treatment, she would rarely get the nerve to tell a guy what she really wanted. The kinds of guys Carmella dated were sweet and shy and she was the quirky anarchist artsy girl with an edge. This was way past her edge.
If he was big in her pussy he was bigger in her ass. As he was pounding her fat rear end, even harder than she had expected, relentlessly and sadistically, Carmella briefly flashed on her long day meeting and greeting all of her fans. All the phony niceties she went through made her feel like a whore. She knew the reality, in many cases with her male fans, from the way they stared at her body instead of her face at the booths, that this is what they really wanted from her. This felt like a more honest interaction in many ways. Her john pounded meat into her and clapped his hands onto her ass, making it ripple with each spanking.
That’s when he started with the dirty talk.
“You fucking take it!” He played his part better than she could have imagined. She was genuinely scared.
“Make it worth the money, right? Hurt you the way you want me to?” She tried to crawl away from him but he clamped onto her hip meat so she couldn’t go anywhere. The last twenty strokes deep up her battered asshole had to be the hardest. His hammering pelvis was beating against her so hard Carmella felt her fillings rattle in her head.
She knew she’d feel this in the morning. Maybe for days.
He finally let out a primal roar as his balls tightened and he pumped wad after wad into her damaged asshole.
They lay panting and sweating for a moment silently after it was over. Carmella wanted to ask if he she could request him specifically, if she were in town again, but before she could form any words, he got up to leave saying, “That was so worth your hit and run. It’s funny, I thought after you ignored me in traffic honking at you, that following you to your hotel to confront you would be a really bad idea, but I couldn’t have been more wrong.”
Carmella was shocked.
As he buckled up his pants he surveyed her used and bruised body saying, “Then when you yelled out your room number to the valet, I wasn’t sure but it felt like an invitation. None of my friends will believe that I just fucked Carmella Dannica in the ass.” Carmella was too ashamed to even look at him and instead waited for him to leave.
Seeing her shame, he left saying, “Yeah, well you liked it. And if it makes you feel any better, you got a fan for life. Call me next time you’re in town.” And he left his number on the hotel stationary, then walked out.
Of course he left the door open…
She didn’t want to move, but as embarrassed as she was Carmella could also feel his cum inside her and running out of her and having someone walk in to see her like this would be too much. Wiping herself with the sheets, she quickly padded across the floor naked to close the door. Just as a good looking guy was walking up.
He was a little surprised that she was naked already but introduced himself anyway, “I believe we have an appointment. Getting started without me?”
Carmella couldn’t think. Her brain was stuck. Her cunt was dripping.
Glancing at the clock on the wall she realized it had been a half hour.
This was the real escort. And he had already been paid…
Without giving it too much thought she said, “You can do what you like, I like to be thrown around a little. Anything goes, I want you to hurt me. You can leave marks, I want you to be rough. Not the face, but other than that… do your best.”