Walk of Shame.

As I woke, I tried to stir, to move, but in all honesty I was as thick headed as a punch drunk boxer; no thought made sense, I did not know where I was, my arms and legs were numb and I could hardly breathe....

I knew where I was. I was sure of it. I had been sent here deliberately... As I licked my dry, cracked lips which were alcohol dry and parched, there were vague memories. I had been sent here. Moaning, I tried to rise but stiff linen bed sheeting was moulded to me, it crackled as I moved making me open my eyes to accept what was around me.

The hotel room was beige, very beige and quite sterile. I knew, without the need to look, that the minuscule kettle and a small cup would be on a sideboard, the TV would be set to random channel, the floor would be littered with different sized towels and the mini bar would be empty.

'Ugh, fuck me...' managed to slip from my slutty mouth, which I realised was stuck to the bed sheet. Using my numb hands, I was somehow able to peel my face from the bedding and sit up. Albeit, swaying just a little and cursing the huge solar star currently trying to smash its way through the blinds.

My ass hurt, my throat was sore and dry, my jaw felt as though it had been punched.

Running my hand along my neck, I felt my bra (sticky, nice), my abdomen, my thighs and, naturally, my panties were misplaced. Bound to be here somewhere... As I tried to kneel on the bed, hands clasped and searched for my panties in one direction and the champagne bottles in the other.

Then the phone rang!

I looked at it, dumbly. Then picked up the receiver, 'yeah?'. It was the best I could do.

'This is the hotel reception. You should have checked out forty-five minutes ago,' said a female voice, quite disapproving. The words did register, but my head was pounding. I did mumble something but it did not seem to impress them. 'Mr Smith did say you would follow him, he has left a message for you.'

'Can you tell me now?'

I was desperately looking about the room for my underpants. There was nothing. My 6" heels lay where they had been discarded when Mr Smith had walked me to the window of the hotel, overlooking London city. My sheer red dress was on the floor where he had lifted it over my head, before kissing my neck and running his hands over me, in full view of London. A bottle of vodka lay on the floor, which I had been swigging from. The mouth of the neck had smears of red lipstick and whispering memories of sex.

'Hello?' said the concierge. 'I said, it's sealed for you. Sorry.'

The call was hung up. The silence was harsh and disapproving. I rolled away. Fucking bitch. She hadn't spent all night being fucked, playing with cock and being spread against the hotel glass, teased til she was a sweaty imprint on the glass then pulled onto the bed and fucked til she screamed.

Cornelia rolled over the bed, swinging her long legs to the carpet. With a few steps she found her way to her high heels and slipped them on. The dress was lying, sticky with spent spunk, on the floor. With a grin, she pulled it up then slipped it it on, smoothing the stains away, wondering if anyone were out there now, in London, looking through the window and watching her still.

Cornelia's GG breasts were taut, pushing hard against her thin dress. It was a conscious effort not to try to lick them, to find the after taste of hard fucking spiky over them. She stood in front of the mirror and stared at herself, one hand caressing her lovely tits as the other used a complimentary toothbrush and paste to scrub her mouth. Five minutes passed. The phone rang twice.

In high heels with a stained, sticky micro dress, high heels and only her lipstick to replenish, Cornelia looked in the bathroom mirror and smiled.

'You are the filthiest slut ever!' she whispered to her reflection. There were tell tale signs of heavy cumming over her face, her smeared lipstick and sore jaw. She knew she had been up for hours sucking cock and as she smiled a herself, she saw glistening hints in her hair, eyebrows, ears and across the top of her dress.

'Well, can't argue with evidence,' she murmured, running her long nails along her tongue for any hints of cum there. 'Too nice,' her other hand was already cupping her thick cock and hot balls. And there was the problem for Cornelia.... She was a cum stained, slutty cock whore in shoreline room, about to leave but with no panties.

How am I going to do this? She wondered.

The phone by the bed rang again. Impatiently, Cornelia snatched it up. 'I am about to-!'

'Cock whore,' whispered a man's voice. It was familiar, it was from the night before. 'You want to get out?'

The question hung in the air. Cornelia starred at her reflection; she saw a sexy, slutty woman in a skimpy, black micro-dress looked back at her. She had a pixie cut, short black wig with quite slutty make-up. Her dress barely held in big breasts and the tops of stockings were visible. Her long legs ran down to high heels. In between her legs, bobbing against stocking tops was a thick, long, uncut cock...

'Hey, babe,' Cornelia croaked.

'Shh.' the sound was final. A long paused followed. 'I bet you are looking at yourself now,' he said. 'I bet you aRe wondering what we did last night?'

Cornelia rolled her eyes and took a step towards the hotel door. Her cock bobbed upwards, lifting her skirt. 'I-?'

'Shut up, this is what you will do. When I hang up you will walk out of this room, along the corridor of the hotel to the stairs at the end of the corridor. Enter them and walk down to the ground floor, then walk through reception and outside. Is that clear?'

Cornelia could not answer, there was no sound inside her she could make. She knew she was not on the ground floor, that she had a long way to go. That for every step, her cock would bounce and thrust between her stockings and micro-dress...

'There are two conditions,' the voice answered. 'Anyone who stops you, you have to say 'Can I suck your cock now?' and only say that, just that you cock whore. If they say no, you can leave....'

'And the second condition?' Cornelia whispered, looking at the closed door, wondering if she could walk through it.

'That's easy,' he said. 'I didn't pay the room. You'd better be quick to leave or quick to swallow...'

Cornelia dropped the phone and ran for the door, then stepped out like a cock whore.