Emma woke up suddenly. Her face was against Nathan’s warm chest. She felt one of his hands absently playing with her red curls while the other held the phone, his eyes glued on the screen.
“You sleep well, my love?” he murmured.
“Yeah,” she replied simply, her mind fogged. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her neck.
She felt him pressing his nose into Emma's neck, taking a deep breath, “I love your scent,” he added.
“My scent…” Emma thought.
She opened her eyes abruptly. An intense panic overwhelmed her as she imagined what he might smell. Then, as quickly as it had flared up, her mind calmed as she recalled the end of the previous night.
~oOo~
She had remained bent over the desk, breathless for a long moment. Even after John’s departure. Her body was aching, still marked by the imposing presence of his cock in her tight ring. Exhausted, torn between shame and an arousal she refused to acknowledge, she got up slowly, her legs shaky, careful not to make noise. A quick glance at the bed confirmed Nathan was still asleep, perfectly oblivious to the chaos that had just happened in front of him.
Emma ran a trembling hand over her face, peeling away the red strands stuck to her skin by sweat and John’s dried cum.
“What have I become…” she whispered, her voice breaking.
But deep down, she knew. Every part of her body, her mouth, her ass, her sex, has been defiled by his cum, marked as his “white slut,” as he’d growled. That simple thought sent a feeling of strange satisfaction through her. Her heart still belonged to Nathan, but her body… her body was now owned by John.
Staggering, due to the sharp pain in her ass, Emma made her way to the bathroom. She flicked on the light, stripped with difficulty as the black lace lingerie fell to the floor, revealing her pale skin marked by the night. Under the shower, she let the hot water pour over her, hoping to wash away the traces of her betrayal. But the water couldn’t erase the remnants of her devastating orgasm, nor the images burned into her mind: John’s brutal strength, the pain laced with pleasure, the absolute taboo of an act committed under her fiancé’s nose.
“Just this once,” she promised herself, knowing she was lying to herself. She knew she wouldn’t say no, no matter what he demanded.
Back in the bedroom, she approached the bed quietly, careful not to wake Nathan, and she slipped into bed beside him. Lying there, she stared at the ceiling, eyes wide open, while his snores filled the room. Her mind struggled to empty itself. A tear rolled down her cheek as exhaustion finally claimed her.
~oOo~
Emma lay there, lost in memories of the previous night, as Nathan’s kisses trailed along her neck, growing bolder. In a flash of clarity, she snapped her eyes open, her heart racing. The sticky sensation in her mouth reminded her of John’s cum lingering on her tongue. Knowing Nathan, he’d soon kiss her, as he did every morning. With a sudden movement, she pulled away from his arms and stood, startling him.
“What’s wrong with you?” Nathan asked, brow raised.
“Sorry, need to go to the bathroom,” Emma lied, limping slightly toward her destination, each step reigniting the ache of her body.
“I guess I went a bit hard last night, sorry,” Nathan teased, a hint of pride in his voice, assuming her discomfort came from his performance.
Emma, flushed with shame but hiding it, replied without turning back, “Don’t worry, it was really nice.”
She brushed her teeth frantically, desperate to erase every trace of her betrayal… her delicious betrayal. The thought made her wet, a heat pulsing in her core as images of John, his brutal strength, his cum, his dominance, flashed through her mind. She finished quickly and returned to the room in her robe, where she found Nathan finishing a room service breakfast order.
Moments later, a knock at the door announced the maître d’hôtel. It was the one who had welcomed them; his badge allowed her to recall his name: Boris. He set up the tray with impeccable politeness, then, as Nathan and Emma escorted him out, he turned back.
“Good morning, I'm sorry to disturb you. I forgot to tell you something important,” he said with a courteous smile. “We’re terribly sorry, but our spa is closed for renovations. The management is offering you an extra night as compensation, for our guests here for pleasure. You’re welcome to stay longer.” Nathan leapt with joy, thrilled. “Of course we’re in!”
Emma, less enthusiastic, felt her stomach twist.
“Perfect, sir,” the maître d’hôtel replied. “May I have your ID for the paperwork? I’ll return it shortly.”
“Absolutely!” Nathan dashed back into the room, rummaging through his things, leaving Emma at the door, alone with the man. He gave her an enigmatic smile, then lowered his voice to a charged whisper. “The generous donor offering this extra night asked me to tell you he’s expecting you at the spa tonight, at 2 a.m.”
Emma paled, swallowing hard. “But… it’s closed,” she stammered.
He grinned wider. “Don’t worry, it’ll be reopened and privatized for the occasion, just for you.” Suddenly, in a move unthinkable for a maître d’hôtel, he reached for the belt of her robe and yanked it open, exposing Emma’s naked body. She froze, paralyzed with shock, her breath catching as her breasts and thighs shivered.
“However, the robe is prohibited,” he murmured, his eyes locked on hers.
“I got it!” Nathan shouted from the back of the room. Emma snapped back to reality, closing her robe just in time, her heart pounding. Nathan returned, triumphantly handing over his ID to the maître d’hôtel, who thanked him warmly, slipping back into his professional role as if nothing had happened. Nathan closed the door, beaming.
“This is awesome, right? If you’re physically up for another night of love, that is,” he teased, winking playfully.
“Yeah… awesome,” Emma mumbled.
---
After a day spent wandering with Nathan, almost forgetting her actions of last night, Emma enjoyed a romantic day, wrapped in the warmth of their shared moments. She had slipped into simple underwear, a plain white cotton bra and matching panties, devoid of lace or provocation, as if it made her feel more innocent.
Back in the room, they melted into a tender moment. Nathan’s caresses, uniquely gentle, enveloped Emma in a sense of fullness and calm she couldn’t achieve alone. This feeling of protection, of absolute trust, made her float, more potent than any drug. Nestled against him, she let herself be soothed, her body at ease.
As evening fell, Emma wavered, her heart pounding at the thought of what she could lose by continuing down this path. John, she knew, would not stop. It wasn’t enough to stay away. She needed to deliver a clear, firm no. Dinner was brought by room service, delivered by a beautiful blonde woman, tall and graceful, her angelic face framed by silky hair, her crisp uniform exuding professional elegance. Her badge said her name was Éléonore. She left as quickly as she had arrived.
While Nathan showered, Emma seized the moment to slip away and knocked on the door next door. John’s door. Each second of silence in the empty hallway amplified her anxiety. After several minutes with no answer, she returned to the room just before Nathan finished his shower, her mind in turmoil. They relaxed watching Netflix, curled up in a comforting cuddle, seeking nothing more than this quiet closeness. Yet, as Nathan fell asleep, Emma couldn’t. She kept staring at the backlit clock screen, unable to think of anything but her appointment at the spa at 2 a.m. Fear and stress were gradually giving way to a desire that, despite her attempts to suppress it, only seemed to grow stronger.
Finally, Emma fell asleep too, exhausted.
---
Emma woke up with a start.
A glance at the clock showed 2:45 a.m. Panic gripped her, the kind she felt when realizing she was late for work. She leapt out of bed, careful not to make a sound, and rummaged through her things. Without thinking, she swapped her plain underwear for a sexier set.
“What am I doing?” she whispered to herself. “Why get ready when I’m just going to tell him it’s over?”
She spotted the robe on the chair and slipped it over her lingerie, in a spirit of contradiction. With determined steps, she strode through the hallway, her resolve strengthening with each stride. She was certain she could stand up to him, end this spiral.
In the elevator descending to the basement, where the spa was, her confidence wavered. The spa door, marked “closed,” opened easily under her touch. Her pulse surged, a wave of doubt crashing over her. Was she making a mistake?
Voices echoed from the indoor pool area, mingled with what sounded like moans. Emma crept forward, silent and slow. Then she froze, jaw dropping at the sight. John, naked, lounged in the pool, his hard cock visible despite the water, stirred by violent movements. Nearby, Boris, one foot on the pool’s edge, the other in the water, was demolishing the blonde woman from room service. Her angelic face contorted in pleasure. Bent over the pool’s rim, she moaned loudly, teetering on the edge of orgasm, as the maître d’hôtel’s powerful hand pressed her face against the cold tiles. He was fucking her without mercy. Emma stood paralyzed, arms limp, unable to tear her eyes away. The blonde’s wedding ring, gleaming against the floor, struck her like a cruel mirror of her own betrayal.
“Allez, jouis, salope !” the maître d’hôtel growled through gritted teeth. “Pense à ton putain de mari qui t'attend probablement sagement à la maison.”
Éléonore’s eyes rolled back, a guttural sound bursting from her open mouth, betraying a shattering orgasm. Bent over the pool’s edge, her body rocked by brutal thrusts, she nearly collapsed, half-conscious. Boris stayed buried in her for a moment, breathless, his massive cock still hard. Then, with arrogant nonchalance, he pulled out and settled into the pool, letting the warm water envelop his chiseled body and erect shaft. His elbows rested on the edge, inches from Éléonore’s plump ass. Catching his breath, he smacked her ass sharply, the sound echoing in the confined space.
“Get out,” he snapped. “You need to take my shift at the front desk. I’m gonna be busy here.” His predatory grin turned to Emma. Éléonore struggled to prop herself up on her elbows, catching her breath while carefully avoiding both Boris’s and Emma’s gazes. Her face was flushed with shame, and she slipped naked out of the room, brushing past Emma as she went.
Emma stood frozen, arms limp, her heart racing. Her robe, slightly open over her black lace lingerie, felt futile against the intense scene she just witnessed. Her mind screamed to flee, but her body betrayed her resolve. John, still and silent, stared at her. She summoned all her willpower, fighting the arousal spreading through her body, and managed to regain control. Locking her gaze with John’s, she spoke as coldly and seriously as she could: “I came to tell you it’s over. This can’t go on. I can’t do this to my boyfriend.”
“Is that so?” John replied with a sly smile.
“Yes. I love him, not you,” she insisted, her voice shaky but firm. A heavy silence hung between them. John rose slowly, water streaming down his body, highlighting the contours of his imposing cock, even at rest. Despite herself, Emma’s eyes flicked to his crotch before she forced herself to look away, her cheeks flushing slightly. John, brimming with confidence, climbed the pool’s steps and walked toward Emma, stopping inches from her, who stood paralyzed, her heart pounding.
Towering over her, he grabbed her red curls, blending tenderness with brutality, and tilted her head to force her to meet his gaze. She stared back, defiance and disdain in her green eyes. “I don’t want you to love me,” he said, with an arrogant tone. “And I don’t love you either. But you’ll keep coming back to me, again and again. You know why?”
Emma’s silence, her gaze faltering.
“Because, unlike your boyfriend, I’m not gentle. I don’t respect you. I use you as I please. And that’s what makes you soar, my pretty slut.”
“No… I… I can’t do this to him,” she stammered, her confidence crumbling, her voice choked with budding sobs.
John rolled his eyes, visibly annoyed by her repetition. With a sharp tug, he pulled her hair downward, forcing her to her knees.
“On your knees. Now.”
Emma collapsed to her knees, her legs giving way under the pressure. “This… this can’t continue,” she whispered, sobs stifling her voice.
“Oh, for God’s sake, open wide and shut up,” John snapped, a mix of exasperation and amusement, guiding his now rock-hard cock to the redhead’s soft, delicate lips. They parted, offering just enough resistance to give him a delicious sense of tightness.
“Haven’t you figured it out yet? You belong to me,” he growled, thrusting deep into her mouth. “Your mouth belongs to me,” he said, each word punctuated by a sharp thrust, his hands gripping her head tightly. “Your sex belongs to me. Ngh.” His voice rumbled low, hips surging. “Your ass… Hrrn.” Another thrust, harder. “Everything. Ugh. I just share them with your boyfriend.”
John had plans beyond fucking Emma’s mouth. But he wanted to submit her, completely, to break her until she had no will of her own. What better way than to keep her on her knees, vulnerable, as he facefucked her with a slow, brutal rhythm, his cock thrusting into her mouth with relentless precision. Emma’s soft lips tightened each time he pulled back slightly, her tongue actively caressing the underside of his shaft after every thrust, a clear sign that her final defenses had crumbled. The sensation of her warm, yielding sheath was almost too perfect. The sight of his thick, dark cock plunging into her pale, no-longer-innocent mouth, lips stretched and slick with desire, drove him to the edge. John had to summon all his willpower to stop, slowly withdrawing from that wet embrace.
Emma, on her knees, breathless, felt her body thrum with an arousal she refused to acknowledge. Her flushed cheeks, her black lace lingerie barely concealed by the open robe.
“I believe we told you the robe wasn’t necessary,” John said with his authoritative voice. “And while I appreciate the effort with the lingerie, you’re going to have to take off at least those panties.”
Emma stood frozen, head bowed, her red curls falling like a curtain over her eyes, hiding her shame.
“Now,” John repeated, with his virile and commanding tone. Emma nearly flinched, her trembling hands rushing to untie her robe. The fabric slid to the floor, revealing her black lace push-up bra and skimpy thong. She straightened, still avoiding John’s piercing gaze, and slipped off her panties with clumsy movements, her cheeks burning with humiliation. The black lace pooled at her feet, leaving her exposed, vulnerable, under John’s dominating eyes. Emma, bare except for her bra, felt her body betray her mind. Her nipples hardened, straining against the delicate fabric of her lingerie.
“Get on all fours now,” John commanded.
Emma obeyed without hesitation, her legs buckling under the weight of his tone. On all fours, she bit her lips, waiting desperately, with a heavy sense of inevitability, for the sensation of John’s cock thrusting into her. To her shock, a sharp pain exploded across her ass, his hand slamming down with brutal force. A cry of surprise escaped her as her sex grew wetter, her body trembling under the impact.
“That’s for trying to resist me,” he whispered in her ear, as she shook, still on all fours, her knees beginning to ache against the cold tiles. “Try it again, and you’ll not only get another spanking, but I’ll drag you back to your room and fuck you hard in your bed, right next to your sleeping boyfriend… and I won’t bother being quiet,” he added.
A part of Emma, the part consumed by arousal, briefly considered defying him, testing the limits of his threat. But fear and shame overwhelmed her. John straightened and climbed the pool’s steps to resume his initial position, lounging against the edge, his hard cock dominating the murky water.
“Crawl to me,” he said, a near-wicked smile lighting his face. “I want you to come to me, to impale yourself on my cock of your own will.”
Shameful, head bowed, Emma crawled slowly on all fours across the cold floor. She reached the pool’s edge, where the warm water lapped at the steps. Carefully, she descended, the water enveloping her up to her waist, her black lace bra soaking and clinging to her chest. Facing John, still lounging with his arms casually on the pool’s edge, his hard cock slightly breaking the surface of the murky water.
“Come on, don’t make me wait,” John commanded, a sadistic smile playing on his lips.
Emma approached. Without realizing it, she climbed onto the edge with an instinctive sensuality, straddling John with a grace she hadn’t intended. She positioned her core just above him. Even in the water, she could feel the heat of his hard shaft pressing against her sensitive flesh. She froze. Her body seemed ready to yield, but a final spark of resistance held her back.
“Go down. Now,” John said, almost too calmly.
Her wet red curls clung to her flushed cheeks, and her eyes avoided John’s dominating gaze, unable to meet it.
As if driven by a will of its own, Emma’s body obeyed. She lowered herself slowly, unable to stop herself from opening her mouth, savoring despite herself the intoxicating sensation of his massive cock filling her again. This time, it was her own movement, deliberate and slow.
“You’re still so tight for me, it’s much appreciated,” John sneered, unmoving, his arms still resting on the pool’s edge, his arrogant confidence unshaken. Emma paused near the hilt, eyes closed, mouth parted, lost in the moment. John finally moved one arm to encircle her throat, applying just enough pressure to make her feel his dominating presence...
