Bound by Desire | Completed

kyser moore

Grunts filled the room as the man lying on top of me worked to reach his climax.

This was an easy client.

Funnily enough, his fetish was necrophilia. All I had to do was lie here and try not to breathe loudly until it was over.

"So good." He murmured in my ear, "So, so good."

Thanks, I guess?

After a few more minutes, he orgasmed, allowing his weight to fall on me.

"Oof!" I exclaimed, having the wind knocked out of me.

"I'm sorry." He breathed out as he rolled onto his side, "I always forget that you're here."

I smiled at him even though irritation was flowing through my mind. How do you forget that you're having sex with someone?

As if I needed another reminder that these men only saw me as a whore.

"That's okay." I lied, "Would you like me to stay?"

He nodded feverishly, "Yes. Just for another hour."

I laid my head on his chest, listening to him tell me about how his daughter was failing one of her classes in school.

I wanted to tell him that if he wasn't somewhere paying for pussy then maybe he could get to the root of her problem, but instead I told him, "I'm sure it'll get better. It may just be a phase."

His hands stroked my arm as he then switched subjects to relay to me an argument he had with his wife pertaining to him not wanting to attend a luncheon she was hosting.

Rich people problems I assume.

After the hour was done, I sat up, reaching for my clothes so I could exit this hotel as quickly as possible.

He had previously paid me for 2 hours before but the extra hour would be an additional charge.

I heard the distinct sound of paper being shuffled through his hand as he counted out the rest of the money he owed me.

"Until next time." He said as he rubbed his thumb in circles across my hand.

Disgusting.

"Until next time." I smiled.

• • •

"And I need you to pick up my medicine tomorrow Ky." My grandma directed from her chair as I washed the greens in the sink for her to make later.

"Yes ma'am." I replied in a sullen tone.

She wheeled over to me, observing me closely, "What's wrong?"

No matter how long I did this, I still felt dirty, ashamed, when I came home.

It'd sometimes take days before I was able to look at myself in the mirror, not recognizing the person who staring back at me.

There would never come a day where I told my grandmother what I did for money.

"I'm fine. Just thinking about a paper I have coming up."

"Oh." She waved me off pushing her chair back to its original spot, "I don't know why you worry when you know you'll do fine."

I put my all into school. It was the only way I saw myself making a better life for us.

Though she never hesitated to assure me otherwise, I felt my grandma put her life on hold to raise me when my mother put me up for adoption and went to do whatever.

Working two jobs on top of having Meniere's disease, she held out as long as she was physically able before stopping soon after I graduated high school, to receive her disability check.