An hour later, bags packed, semen trickling down Mia's thighs from John's use of her tight cunt, John led her down the hallway. She'd fixed her hair and makeup, and was dressed in the thin white sundress he'd selected for her. It came all the way from Italy and cost nearly a thousand dollars. No bra, no panties. She looked like a very rich whore. The bellman, not the same as the man who'd delivered breakfast, carried their bags behind them, no doubt eyeing the length of her toned legs under the short dress.
When they got on the elevator, John watched as the bellman's eyes lingered on his wife's hard nipples. From the way he looked, John had to guess that word had spread about his wife's performance that morning.
Mia's face turned red under the scrutiny.
"Turn around, Mia. Lift your skirt and show him the plug."
A tear trickled down her cheek, but Mia lifted her skirt, bent forward. John's cum trickled out thick and white between her pussy lips.
John poked at the plug, making her groan. The horny cunt still hadn't come yet today.
"Very nice," said the bellman, a chubby, pimpled man in his mid-twenties, and Mia dropped her skirt and turned around.
"Would you like to touch her tits?"
"Yes." The bellman set down the bags and reached out with both hands to cup Mia's tits, her face heating bold red.
For the duration of the elevator ride, she submitted to his groping. When the doors slid open in the lobby, the bellman dropped his hands and picked up the bags. "Your wife is beautiful."
"I know," said John, and Mia followed him humbly through the lobby and into the waiting car. Maurice sat in the drivers' seat.
She slid inside and waited while John paid the bill, shifting uncomfortably under the steady gaze of the driver watching her in the mirror. The plug was a constant weight in her ass, a steady reminder of what she was. Humiliation simmered, but so did a deep realization that she deserved this. She'd been a bitch her whole life, and somehow now, John had done something to her. All she wanted was an orgasm. It took the pressure off. Her mind had quieted. Her nipples got harder and she squirmed, desperate to touch herself, show herself to this driver. But not without John's permission.
He might let other men touch her, but she wouldn't invite it. He hadn't let her come earlier. Had told her to ride his cock in the chair in the hotel room, but the second he'd cum inside her, he'd told her to get off, and clean him with her tongue. She'd have been so quick, if only he'd let her.
John got in and the door slammed. The driver took off for the airport, his gaze returning frequently to her in the mirror.
"How are you this morning, Maurice?"
"It's a good day, John. And you?"
"Can't complain." John pulled the newspaper from his briefcase. It was a long ride to the airport. "Show him your tits."
Her face heated and she hesitated. That look crossed John's features, the one that promised punishment, the one that spoke of displeasure. She didn't want Maurice to see her breasts, but she did want to please John, and she didn't want him to spank her, or worse make her wear the larger plug.
She lowered the straps of the dress down her shoulders and the dress dropped down so her small breasts popped into view.
"Rub your nipples."
She didn't even question that one. It was exactly what she wanted to do. She was so horny. Maurice's eyes stared at the mirror. She tugged on her sensitive nipples.
"Spread your legs, lift up your skirt, show him your pussy."
Maurice adjusted the mirror slightly, and even though it was the last thing she wanted to do, she parted her legs wide.
"Rub your pussy."
She slid her fingers down, deep inside, rubbing her clit. "Can I come?"
John made a face like he was thinking hard about that. "I don't know."
"I did everything you said. Please."
"You have been a very good girl this morning. You sucked off that server so well, and rode my dick like a champ."
"Please," she slid her fingers deeper, stroking over the slick cum.
"Oh, very well."
She moaned with relief. It took less than thirty seconds for her to buck her hips on her fingers, the plug in her ass, her eyes glued to the mirror where Maurice watched. The orgasm came on fast, and hit like a ton of bricks, left her feeling sleepy and heavy.
"Scoop up all my cum from earlier, and eat it," John said and she didn't even blink, just scooped up the thick globs of it and licked it from her fingers. Salty, clumpy cum. It tasted awful, but so damned right, sliding down her throat and clinging to her tongue.
"Climb through the partition now and suck Maurice's cock while he drives us to the airport. When you're done thank him, crawl back here and you can lick my balls until we get there."
It was a relief to have something concrete to do. When her mouth was full of cock, she couldn't think, she couldn't doubt, she couldn't feel the usual worry that controlled her mind and made her lose sleep at night. With a cock in her mouth, she could relax. Maurice's cock was an ugly thing, short and fat with a head like a torpedo, but his cum was thin and easy to swallow. He filled her mouth and she didn't even have to question it, just gulped down the offering as if that was her job.
"Thank you," she said.
