” THE student “
As a student I didn’t have a lot of money. Neither did anyone. Apart from the trust fund kids, and there were a few of those at my uni, everyone was scrabbling for pennies. My poverty was becoming a big problem as the mid-term vacation rolled around and I went home with £50 to my name and considering getting a part time job.

Back home during one of the vacations I met up with Mr. Newark. He was taking me out for dinner and we were going to go back to his to get reacquainted- payment free, as a one off, but I was getting dinner out of it- and have a few drinks. His wife and kids were visiting his mother-in-law in Scotland for a few days and I’d agreed to visit as over the years I’d become quite fond of him.

I walked into the restaurant, a fancy little Italian in the next town, wearing a nice blue tea-dress with white spots on it. Mr. Newark was already sat down, but hiding behind his menu so I had to scan the tables to find him. He waved and I walked over.

“Well, well, well, Elizabeth. You are looking lovely.” He said as I sat down, blushing a little. He poured me a glass of red wine from the bottle in front of him. “You’re looking very sexy in fact.”

“You look pretty good yourself.” I replied, and he did. When we had started our arrangement a couple of years before I hadn’t really found Mr. Newark attractive, but as I’d grown up and he’d shown me the ways of the world, that had changed.

“And your breasts, Beth….” He began, I looked down at the three undone buttons at my chest which showed off some red lace from my bra. “I’d forgotten how much I missed them.” I smiled.

Over dinner Mr. Newark told me all about his new Nymphette, a new 18yr old in his A Level class called Sophie. She sounded a lot like me and a lot like Isabelle, the girl who had come before me. He showed me a photo and she had a similar look, tall, large breasts, brunette.

“How many of us have there been, Sir?” I asked as we finished our main courses. He didn’t correct my use of “Sir”, I knew that his first name was Stephen, but I would never call him that. He paused and thought for a moment.

“11 now. You were number 10. Heavens, I can’t believe it has been as many as that.” He drank from his wine class. “Jacqueline, the first one, she’s 30 now.”

“And do you meet with all of them?” I said, finishing my last mouthful of mushroom pappardelle and putting my knife and fork neatly on the plate. He nodded.

“Most of them, yes.” I looked up and looked into his grey/green eyes, hidden behind thick-rimmed glasses.

“And do you….?” I smirked. He smirked back.

“For the most part.”

We skipped desert and tipsily hailed a cab back to his house. The house was in darkness, but as soon as we got into the front door we fell into the living room and onto the sofa where we started kissing and pulling off one anothers clothes. I was down to my bra, thong and stockings when Mr. Newark stopped to switch on a lamp.

“I need to see you, Beth.” He panted, standing in his boxer shorts, his large erection clear through the fabric. “It’s no fun if I can’t see you.” I was breathless and spread eagled on the sofa. “Take that bra off so I can tit-fuck you.”

The sex was everything I remembered. We hadn’t been together in six months but the old rhythms soon came back and Mr. Newark had me in every position, in every hole and finished the two hour session off by spunking on my face. As we laid side by side on the bedroom floor, covered in sweat, conversation inevitably came round to money and my lack of it. I hadn’t paid anything towards dinner, that wasn’t expected of me, but I couldn’t have anyway. I was skint. Mr. Newark had always paid me for my time so that I could save for university, but now I was at university I was missing the money. Even the fact that I was all the way up north in Manchester, which was supposedly cheaper than my native London, wasn’t much help to my over-stretched pocket.

“I do know a man who’s looking for a young girl in your neck of the woods.” He said. My ears pricked up. “He’s on the outskirts, in Salford.” I had been thinking for the past six months that I could really use another Sugar Daddy, but I didn’t know where to begin. I had even gone as far as to look at a website which specialised in older man/younger woman hook ups, but all of the men who had got in contact with me were offering laughable cash. “He had a student girl up there he was using, but she graduated last year.”

“I’d be very interested.” I said, eagerly. “Can you put me in touch?”

Back at uni a few weeks later, I was studying in my room when my mobile phone rang. I looked at the display. “Mr. Newark” it said. I answered.

“Good news, Beth.” He began. “I got in touch with my friend and sent him some pictures of you.” I could just imagine the kind of pictures Mr. Newark had sent, considering the filth he’d taken of me over the years. “He absolutely loved them and wants to put an offer to you.”

“I’m listening.” I said.

“He’s offering to pay you £500 a month,” I grinned, that was a fortune, “for you to visit him three times a week. His wife lectures at Edinburgh University but only lives up there in the week, so he’s got the house on week days and is looking for a young woman to help him out probably on Monday, Wednesday and Thursday evenings.” I smiled. This sounded perfect.

“Can I have his number?” I asked.

“Of course, Beth.” Mr. Newark said. “But I’m warning you he does like some pretty extreme things.” My heart sank.

“How extreme?”

“Nothing crazy.” Mr. Newark reassured me. “He doesn’t want golden showers or anything….” He paused. “He likes what I believe they term ‘grudge fucking’.” I was puzzled.

“What’s that?” I said.

“Rough sex.” Mr. Newark said. “Very rough sex.”

I didn’t know what to make of that, really. I took the man, Donald’s, number, and sat pondering this ‘grudge fucking’. I turned to my laptop and googled it. There wasn’t much information on this phenomenon, but there were a few porn clips. I downloaded them and watched.

The first one was just a few minutes long and involved a young girl, who within moments of the scene beginning, was bent over by a big, hairy older man, with no preamble and absolutely pounded. She was then pushed to her knees and her face was fucked by his big, ugly cock. He held her head and used it like she was the grimmest kind of prostitute. He then pulled out and wanked his cum onto her face and into her eyes. Ouch! The second clip was longer, but it was the same principle. The girl was fucked in every hole and smacked about while he did it- around the face, across the arse, and he finished in her arse while calling her a dirty whore and then pulling out and stuck his erupting cock into her mouth.

I closed the laptop and sat silently. I was incredibly turned on. I had long suspected that there was something slightly wrong with me in that I was very turned on by the idea of rough sex, but this was on a new level. I spread my legs in my swivelling office chair and pulled my dampened thong aside. I was wet. I lathed a couple of fingers into myself and rubbed my clit. I remembered the girl getting smacked around the face as she sucked cock. I decided to ring Donald.

He answered quickly, on the second ring. He had a gruff, Scottish accent.

“Hello, this is Beth.” I said. He chuckled.

“Ah, Mr. Newark’s girl!” He exclaimed. “I trust he told you what I was offering and what I wanted?” He was very bold, very confident. I agreed that he had. “Good! Can you come round tonight?” He asked. In less than 30 seconds we had cut to the chase.

“Yes.” I said. “Yes, of course.” He gave me his address and I agreed to come to his house in less than three hours time.

“Get a cab,” he said, “I’ll pay.”

Donald came out to meet me from the cab, and paid the driver. It was raining and a dark, February night in Salford. He was very tall, easily 6ft 3″, about 50 and had a bristling strawberry blonde beard, which blended into a full head of wiry, ginger hair. He couldn’t have looked more Scottish if he’d been wearing a kilt. As it was he was wearing jeans and a white shirt, which was undone at the throat, and a off-brown tweed jacket. In contrast to the first time I had been with Mr. Newark, I very much fancied Donald and told him I thought he was very handsome as we walked into the small terraced house. His bright blue eyes twinkled.

“Ah, Beth,” he said, “I bet you say that to all the lads!” He smiled. I liked him already. He took my coat. I was wearing a red dress underneath which flared at the hips, and high red heels. As he took my coat he brushed his big hands over my breasts and stopped to admire them. “These are lovely.” I blushed.

“Thank you.” I said. He ushered me into the living room and told me to sit.

“So Mr. Newark told you what I was offering?” I nodded. “And what I want?” I nodded.

“Sort of.” I began. He offered me a glass of whiskey and I took it. “He said you like…” I was suddenly shy in front of his handsome, sexy man. “…’Grudge fucking’?” I said, emphasising the quotation marks.

“Aye.” He said, leaning back into a chair opposite me. “I like it very rough.” I nodded and gulped my whiskey. “How do you feel about that, Beth?” I finished my whiskey and he moved to pour me some more.

“I like the idea.” I said. “I like it a lot.” Donald didn’t sit down again, but instead went to a bookcase on the wall and pulled out a large, brown envelope.

“That’s the first month.” He said. “I’ll pay you every month on the fifteenth.” He handed me the envelope. It was heavy with £20 notes. I tried to surpress my glee. “Finish your whiskey and come upstairs to the bedroom, first door on the left.”

I waited for five minutes, nervously. I finished my second whiskey and then got up and emptied some more of the bottle into my class as I heard him walk up the stairs and then into the bedroom. I finished my third, large, measure, and then, placing the money safely into my bag I walked nervously up the stairs.

I knocked, gently on the door. Donald was lying on the bed, watching something on the TV, naked and stroking his already hard cock. I was shocked to see how large it was and looked from him to the television. It was a loud porn film and the girl on screen was getting destroyed.

“Take your clothes off.” Donald said, firmly. I knew now that he was in charge and I was frightened but excited. I quickly removed my clothes.

“Do you want me… naked?” I asked tentatively.

“Aye. Naked.” He said, still stroking his hard penis. I stood before him, entirely naked. He moved forwards and used his right hand to feel my bald pussy. I was very wet. His body was incredibly sexy, he was hairy but not too hairy, and his penis was exquisite. Hanging beneath his hard cock were two big, brown balls and it was all framed by neatly trimmed pubic hair which matched the hair in his beard. “Turn around and bend over.” He said. I turned and felt him standing behind me. I bend at the waist and he crouched slightly as he was so tall. I felt his large tool enter me and gasped. “Oh, that’s a lovely tight fit.” He groaned, as he began to thrust in and out of me. I moaned. “You like that do you?” He asked. I said that I did. He pulled a fistful of my hair from the back of my head. “Do you like that?” I groaned yes. He fucked harder. I felt his big balls smacking against me. “Get on the bed.” He gasped, releasing my hair. I fell down on my back and he wasted no time in crouching over my face and pushing his cock down my throat.

“You’re my whore now.” He said, moving his hips rhythmically. “I’m paying for you so you’ll do whatever the fuck I want.” I couldn’t breathe as he obstructed my airway with his member. I concentrated on breathing through my nose. “I will never try and make you cum.” He breathlessly gasped. “Never. That’s not my job. If you cum that’s because you’re a slut and because cock in your cunt makes you cum. I don’t care if you cum or not.” I groaned around his tool. Already I needed to touch my hard clit. I reached down and rubbed it as he continued hitting my tonsils with every stroke. “You’re just three holes and a big pair of jugs to me, cunt, mouth and arsehole and massive fucking tits. I will cum on your face, on your tits, in your cunt, up your arse, down your throat. I don’t care if you fuck other men but you’ll be so fucking sore seeing me three times a week you won’t want to.” I rubbed harder at my pussy. “Mr. Newark told me you’re a slut. I’m going to treat you like one.” With that I made myself cum and moaned. He pulled his cock from my throat. “Get your knees behind your ears.”

With my knees back by my head I could see in the mirror that I looked just like tits and cunt. The porno was still playing out on the TV and the girl on screen was getting stretched out by two cocks, one in her pussy and one in her arse.

“One day I might get a mate round to do that to you.” Donald said, fisting his sticky cock and pushing it into my cunt. He grabbed at my tits and proceeded to fuck me harder than I’d ever been fucked in my life. I thought seriously that he might break my back, he slammed me so hard with every thrust. I screamed out. His big hands on my tits threatened to rip them off my chest and my pussy contracted around him as he repeatedly slammed my G spot. Soon I was cumming and there was no hiding it. My cunt physically spasmed and he slapped me around the face as I came.

“Whore. Whore cumming around my cock.” I was still cumming. He hit me again. “Dirty fucking whore.” He pulled out and effortlessly flipped me over onto my front. He spanked me across the arse, but not the gentle spank I’d been used to from former lovers, but a real smack which threatened to leave a bruise. He did it again. I cried out in pain. He pulled my head up by the hair and smashed it back down on the bed. “You’re not here to cum.” He said, smacking my arse again. “You’re here to take it.” He pushed into my wet, slippery snatch from behind and I moaned. “Take it.” He said, grabbing my hips. I took it and he hit my cervix with every slam into me. “Am I hurting you?” He asked. I didn’t answer. He grabbed my hair. “I asked you a question, whore.”

“Yes.” I gasped.

“No, I’m fucking not.” He slammed harder and smacked my arse again. “You’re enjoying this too much.” He panted. I yelled again as I felt my G spot slammed. His balls hit my pussy from underneath and the vibrations made me clit start to tingle. “This cunt just cums from having a cock inside it.” He continued slamming and I knew I would cum again quickly like this, especially with the constant filth he was spouting. “I can feel you cumming again.” He said, slapping my bum cheeks, which felt on fire, now. I came around him like a ton of bricks. “I can see there’s only one way to stop you cumming, whore.”

He withdrew and pushed me back onto my back. He pushed my legs up and pushed into me again.

“Getting this cock nice and wet.” He said. Then he pulled out and with no warning and no lube, just pushed his huge piece of meat straight into arse. I had never felt pain like it. I had had anal sex in the past, but always with at least some spit to ease the way. I screamed, this time with genuine and burning agony. He laughed as his balls hit my arse cheeks. “Not cumming now, are we?” He proceeded to absolutely destroy my tiny little arsehole, slamming into it and pulling at my tits as he did so. I sobbed in pain and tears fell from my eyes and into my hair. “Cry for me.” He laughed. “Cry for Donald.” He slapped me around the face and I wept harder. It hurt so much. “Oh it feels so good in here for me.” He smirked, banging in and out. “Lovely and tight.” He pushed three, thick fingers into my neglected cunt and I moaned a little, some pleasure in the midst of the pain. “I’m not touching that fucking clit,” he said, “but I’ll give you this.” He thrusted the fingers in time with his cock in my arse and I began to feel less pain. “You’ll enjoy this in the end, my girl,” he gasped, “you’ll be begging for it. I couldn’t imagine a time when I would ever be begging for this 9”, thick tool to be pushed into my arse with no lube, but I was loosening now and it was beginning to feel, if not nice, less uncomfortable. He slapped my face. “You’ll be begging for it.”

After what seemed like hours of arse-fucking, but was probably less than ten minutes, he pulled out and pushed his cock straight into my mouth. It tasted earthy and made me gag. He laughed. He only fucked my throat for a few seconds before pulling out and moving back. He smacked me hard across the tits and I yelled out. He slapped my face. I yelled again.

“Stand up.” He demanded. I staggered to my feet and he pushed me against the wall. He picked up a belt from the chest of drawers to his side and smacked me across the thighs with it. The pain was so acute I screamed. “Bend over the bed so I can spank you with this.” He said. I was in genuine pain by now, but knew I was his to do with as he pleased. I bent over so my arse was high and my head was low. He hit my arse cheeks with the belt and strangely, my pussy dampened again, although I couldn’t tell you why. Maybe it was the degradation. Maybe something in me longed for this. I moaned, rather than yelled and Donald registered the difference.

“You fucking like that.” He lashed me again and my pussy registered it. “You fucking like it this rough.” He proceeded to really spank me in earnest and my pussy creamed beneath me. “Rub that clit while I do it.” He said. I reached beneath me and frigged myself. His spanks and my frigging were in time with one another and I moaned out.

“I’ve never been this fucking turned on.” I said, muffled by the bed covers. It was the first time I had spoken for any length since we had begun. I rubbed my pussy harder.

“What was that, Whore?” Donald asked. I lifted my head so my words could be heard better.

“I said I’ve never been this fucking turned on.” I spat. And with that my pussy came and I yelled out in ecstasy.

After that Donald flipped me on my back and straddled my chest. He pointed at his balls, lifting his cock so they were suspended above my mouth.

“See how big they are?” He asked. I was in a daze now, of pain and orgasms, my skin stinging and my arse and pussy stretched out beyond anything I’d felt before. He didn’t wait for an answer. “That’s the biggest load of my fucking life waiting to be plastered all over my new whore.” He wanked his cock furiously and I stuck out my tongue and licked his heavy testicles. “Get on your knees on the floor.” I scooted onto the floor and he stood in front of me, wanking his big cock. “Talk to me.” He said. I didn’t know what he wanted me to say, but I decided that he would want to hear how good he was to cum.

“I’ve never been so well fucked,” I began, “Your cock is so big the second it’s in my cunt I can’t help but cum.” He groaned and wanked harder. I took his balls in my hand and tugged them. “I fucking loved it up my arse.” I lied. “It hurt so much but it felt so good. And I loved being spanked with your belt.” That at least was true.

“Call me Daddy.” He demanded, his hand now just a blur. I recoiled at that, it was a bit twisted, but I did it.

“I loved being spanked with your belt, Daddy.” I said. He moaned.

“My daughter is a fucking slut just like you.” He breathed, his cockhead purple and on the verge of exploding. “And I fuck girls like you because I can’t fuck her.” Precum gathered at his cum-hole. This explained his obsession with grudge fucking young girls. “She’s a fucking whore and I imagine fucking her arse and fucking her face,” his fist gathered pace, “She’s got big fucking tits like you and she shaves her tight little cunt like you and I’ve heard her getting beaten with a belt by her son-of-a-bitch boyfriend,” He was seconds away from cumming, “And from now on I’m going to call you by her name. I’m going to cum on your slutty little face, Chloe!” he exclaimed. And then he did.

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