Her Thursdays With Nathaniel
# The 21-Year Itch The suite at The Regent smelled of old money and discreet sin—leather, starched linen, and the faint, sweet decay of long-stemmed roses in a crystal vase. Maya stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, the city’s twilight gr
Chapter 1
The suite at The Regent smelled of old money and discreet sin—leather, starched linen, and the faint, sweet decay of long-stemmed roses in a crystal vase. Maya stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, the city’s twilight grid painting faint stripes across the silk of her lingerie. The reflection staring back was a familiar stranger: the warm, curvy mother of three, her green eyes usually crinkled with laughter, now flat and assessing. The freckles across her nose and chest were the only part of her that ever felt truly hers anymore.
Daniel was at a board dinner. Salt-and-pepper hair perfectly in place, discussing quarterly forecasts. Twenty-one years of that. Of being the exquisite, supportive wife. The role had become a second skin, one she shed every Thursday night for this other, more honest one.
The electronic lock chirped.
He didn’t knock. Nathaniel entered as if he owned the space, the door sighing shut behind him. He was tall, the kind of muscular that came from discipline, not vanity, his presence immediately compressing the air in the room. His blue eyes swept over her, a cold, cataloguing glance that bypassed the expensive lace and saw only the offering beneath. He said nothing, simply shrugging out of his jacket, the movement making the intricate tattoos on his forearms shift like living things.
“On your knees.” His voice was a low rumble, devoid of preamble. It wasn’t a request.
A shiver, sharp and electric, cut through her practiced composure. This was the transaction, the point of the whole dangerous charade. To have her choices removed. To not be in charge. She sank down, the plush carpet biting into her bare knees. The submissive posture sent a flush of heat across her skin that had nothing to do with shame.
He stood before her, undoing his belt with deliberate, slow motions. The reality of him, the sheer size of him outlined against the fine wool of his trousers, made her mouth water. This was the fantasy. Not just the sex, but the annihilation of Maya-the-Wife. Here, she was no one’s mother, no one’s partner. She was a mouth. A set of eager, full lips waiting for instruction.
“You look like a woman who needs to be used,” he stated, his hand tangling in her brown hair, not gently. “Your husband doesn’t see it, does he? The hunger in those pretty green eyes.”
He guided himself to her lips. The taste of him, salt and clean skin, was a shock. She took him slowly, her gaze locked on the unwavering blue of his. There was no tenderness here, only a ruthless, serious assessment of her technique. He set a punishing rhythm, his grip on her hair tightening, using her throat with a focused intensity that made her eyes water even as a throbbing ache of need pooled low in her belly.
“Good,” he grunted, the first hint of approval, and it felt like a victory. “But don’t you dare swallow until I say.”
He was orchestrating her desperation, playing her body like an instrument he’d just tuned. This was the edge. This was what she’d been secretly craving for years—not just a fuck, but a complete, voluntary surrender to a will stronger than her own. The obedient wife vanished. Only the submissive remained, kneeling on a hotel floor, awaiting her next command.
Chapter 2
His hand fisted tighter in her hair, a sharp, anchoring pain that rooted her to the moment. He pulled her forward, forcing her to take him deeper, the thick head of his cock hitting the back of her throat. Her body convulsed with a gag reflex she fought to suppress, tears springing to her eyes.
“That’s it,” Nathaniel growled, his voice a dark caress. He held her there, her nose pressed against his skin, her throat working around him. “Swallow against it. Good girl. Now, you listen.”
He began to move again, a shallow, relentless rhythm that kept her on the edge of choking. “This pretty mouth is just the start,” he said, each word a promise. “I’m going to fuck it until your jaw aches. Then I’m going to bend you over that desk, peel this lace off your ass, and use that tight little hole until you scream. Your married pussy will be so wet and empty, begging for it last. I’ll make you come on my cock until you can’t remember your own name.”
His graphic detail painted the scene in her mind, a brutal, perfect script. Her own arousal was a slick, throbbing pulse between her legs, an ache that deepened with every filthy word. She moaned around him, the vibration earning a sharp tug on her hair.
“You want that, don’t you?” he demanded, slowing his thrusts. “You want to be my used-up little whore for the night. Tell me what you want.”
He pulled her off him with a wet pop. Her lips were swollen, a string of saliva connecting her to him. She was panting, her green eyes glazed with submission and pure need. “Please,” she whispered, the word raw.
“Please, what?” His thumb smeared the moisture on her chin.
“Please,” she begged, the dam breaking. “I want your cum. In my mouth. Please, I need to taste it. Let me swallow it for you.”
A grim smile touched his lips. He guided himself back between her parted lips. “Open wider.”
She obeyed, taking him deep once more. His pace turned punishing, his hips driving forward. The pressure built, his grunts becoming sharper. With a final, deep push, he held her still. A hot, salty flood erupted down her throat. He kept her there, making her swallow every pulse, her own body clenching with a sympathetic, silent orgasm that shook her to her core.
When he finally released her hair, she slumped back on her heels, breathing raggedly, his essence warm inside her.
He looked down at her, tucking himself away with calm efficiency. “Stand up. The desk is next.”
Chapter 3
“I didn’t say you could get comfortable.” Nathaniel’s voice cut through her dazed, post-orgasmic haze.
His hand clamped onto her shoulder, spinning her back around to face him before he shoved down, forcing her knees back onto the unforgiving carpet. Pain flared, a sharp reminder of her place.
“Open your eyes,” he commanded.
She looked up, her vision blurred with unshed tears. He was already hard again, his cock thick and pulsing in his fist. He slapped it against her cheek, the sting making her gasp, then dragged the heavy, slick head across her tear-streaked face, marking her with his own salt and her saliva.
“You taste like a used slut,” he said, his tone flat, analytical. “Perfect.”
Before she could draw another shaky breath, his hand was in her hair again, a brutal fist. He guided himself to her lips. “Wider.”
She obeyed, opening her mouth. He didn’t feed himself to her; he shoved, a single, relentless thrust that buried him deep into her throat. She gagged violently, her body convulsing, her nails digging into her own thighs.
He held her there, impaled, watching her struggle for air. “Swallow,” he ordered, his voice a dark rumble. “Swallow around me or you don’t breathe.”
Terror and desire twisted together. She forced her throat muscles to work, to milk him. A low groan escaped him. He began to fuck her face in earnest, short, punishing drives that hit the back of her throat with each one. Gagging sounds filled the room, mixed with his grunts and the wet slap of skin.
“This is what you are now,” he panted, not missing a stroke. “A hole. My personal fuck-toy. And next Thursday, you’re going to be a party favor.”
Her eyes flew open, wide with shock. He grinned, a ruthless, cold expression.
“I’ve got three friends. Serious men. They’ve heard about you. The married woman with the hungry mouth.” He pushed deeper, making her choke. “They’re going to take turns. One in this pretty mouth, one in that tight ass, one in your neglected married pussy. You’ll take every drop they give you. You’ll thank them for it.”
The vile, thrilling image exploded in her mind. She moaned, the vibration tipping him over the edge.
“Now,” he snarled, his hips stuttering. “Swallow it all. Every. Last. Drop.”
Heat flooded her throat. She swallowed convulsively, obeying, taking his release as he owned her completely. As she knelt there, spent and trembling, she knew it was true. She wasn't just his whore anymore. She was their whore. And the knowledge made her climax again, a silent, shattering wave that left her empty and utterly possessed.
Chapter 4
“On your hands and knees. Now.”
Nathaniel’s command cut through the heavy air. He shoved her forward, not giving her a moment to recover from kneeling. The plush carpet was rough against her palms. He moved behind her, his hands rough on her hips.
“Stay,” he ordered, and she heard the click of a bag. When he returned, something cold and slick nudged against her asshole. It was large, a blunt, unyielding pressure. “This is a warm-up. For next Thursday.”
He pushed. The toy breached her, a burning, stretching invasion that stole her breath. He didn’t stop, working it in with brutal, efficient thrusts until it was seated deep inside her.
“This,” he grunted, beginning to piston the toy in and out, “is for Mark. He’s the quiet one. Massive cock. Loves a tight, virgin ass. He’s going to ruin this hole for anyone else.”
The degradation was a fire in her veins. The physical stretch was immense, the toy hitting a spot that made her vision blur. “Please,” she sobbed, not sure what she was begging for.
“Then there’s Leo,” Nathaniel continued, his rhythm relentless. “Obsessed with throat-fucking. He’s going to pin your head to the mattress and pump your pretty mouth until you choke on it. You’ll swallow every drop and ask for more.”
The filthy promise, paired with the brutal anal penetration, sent a violent shudder through her. Her pussy was dripping, an obscene trickle down her inner thigh. A high, broken moan tore from her throat.
“And the last one,” he said, his voice dropping to a predatory whisper. He leaned over her, his lips at her ear. “That’s for David. He’s a connoisseur. He’ll take your wet, married pussy last, when you’re already stuffed and screaming. He’ll make you come over and over until you’re just a sobbing, used-up mess. You’ll be our shared slut.”
The image—being so completely owned, used, and filled by three strangers under his direction—unleashed a cataclysm inside her. Her body seized, her back arching violently as an orgasm ripped through her, wave after blinding wave, her inner muscles clenching around nothing as she screamed into the carpet.
He didn’t stop. He fucked her with the toy through her climax, prolonging the shocking pulses of pleasure-pain. “That’s one,” he snarled. “Let’s see how many you can take before you break.”
He increased the pace, the hard plastic driving into her with punishing force. The overstimulation was agony and ecstasy. Another climax built, swift and terrifying, triggered purely by his words and his ruthless control.
“They’re going to love you,” he promised, and she shattered again, her body convulsing, a silent scream on her lips as a second, even more intense orgasm tore her apart. She collapsed forward, but he held her hips up, still working her, owning her completely.
“Good girl,” he murmured, finally stilling the toy, leaving her impaled and trembling. “Now you’re ready.”
Chapter 5
He left the thick toy buried inside her, a constant, humiliating reminder of what was to come. Maya lay trembling on the carpet, her body still vibrating from the brutal orgasms he’d wrung from her.
Nathaniel stood over her, buckling his belt with the calm precision of a surgeon finishing an operation. “Stand up.”
Her limbs felt like water, but she obeyed, the toy shifting obscenely inside her as she rose. She didn’t dare remove it. He watched her, his blue eyes cold and assessing. He picked up his jacket but didn’t put it on.
“Thursday is a test,” he stated, his voice filling the quiet room. “You will be shared. But before you earn that privilege, you must prove your submission is absolute. To me.”
A fresh wave of dread and anticipation coiled in her gut. “How?”
A grim, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. “You have a gift. A beautiful, hungry mouth. But you’ve only used it for one purpose.” He stepped closer, his thumb tracing her swollen lower lip. “I own that mouth. Every part of it. Tomorrow night, you will come back here. You will kneel. And you will use it to clean me.”
She blinked, confused. “Clean you?”
“After I piss,” he said, the vulgar word dropping like a stone. His gaze was merciless, pinning her in place. “Not in a glass for you to drink. On you. On your face, in your hair, on those tits your husband loves. And then you will lick it off. Every drop. You will clean my cock with your tongue, and you will swallow whatever’s left. That is your task. Do you understand?”
The degradation was so profound, so specific, it stole the air from her lungs. It wasn’t about pleasure; it was about ownership. It was about reducing her to a human towel, to a creature that would worship even his waste.
“If you do this without hesitation, if you perform this act of complete devotion,” he continued, his voice dropping to a intimate, terrifying whisper, “then you will have earned your place on Thursday. You will be my well-trained slut, ready to be used by my friends. If you refuse, or if you gag, or show one second of disgust… this ends. You go back to your quiet, desperate life. Do you understand, Maya?”
Her mind screamed. Every instinct of the mother, the wife, the respectable woman, revolted. But the submissive, the hidden whore he’d unlocked, throbbed with a dark, shocking need. This was the ultimate surrender. This was the line that, once crossed, would erase Maya forever.
She looked into his unwavering blue eyes, her own green ones wide with fear and a terrifying, burgeoning hunger. Her voice was a raw whisper, but it was clear.
“I understand, Sir. I’ll do it. I’ll be good.”
His hand cupped her cheek, a mockery of tenderness. “Good girl. Now, get on your knees again. I’m not done with that mouth tonight. You need to practice your swallowing. I’m going to come down your throat one more time, and you’re going to take it like the perfect little cocksleeve you are.”
He unzipped his trousers, already hard again. As she sank to her knees, the toy in her ass a constant reminder of her future, she opened her mouth. This was the warm-up. The final, filthy rehearsal for tomorrow’s true test.
He fed himself to her, and she took him deep, her throat working. This time, her submission was total. There was no wife left in her, only a desperate, eager whore, learning to worship at the altar of her own annihilation. The climax, when it came, was a brutal, gagging flood that she swallowed with a fervent moan, her body convulsing around the empty, toy-stuffed void within her. She had passed the point of no return.
Chapter 6
The next night, the hotel suite felt like a confessional. Maya knelt in the center of the room, naked, the air conditioning raising goosebumps on her skin. The toy was gone, leaving her feeling strangely empty. Nathaniel stood before her, fully dressed, his expression unreadable.
“Tonight is not about my pleasure,” he stated, his voice flat. “It is about your obedience. Your complete, unquestioning surrender. Do you remember your task?”
Her mouth was desert-dry. “Yes, Sir. To… to clean you.”
“Verbally. Say it.” His blue eyes were chips of ice.
“You will urinate on me,” she whispered, the words scraping her throat raw. “On my face, in my hair, on my breasts. And then I will… lick it off. I will clean your cock with my tongue and swallow what remains.”
“Good. Look at me. Do you want to do this?”
It was the cruelest question. She searched herself, past the churning nausea, the screaming pride. She found the dark, wet truth. “Yes, Sir. I want to do this for you.”
A faint, approving glint touched his eyes. “Then prove it.”
He unzipped his trousers, freeing his cock. He took a step closer until he was standing directly over her kneeling form. “Head back. Open your mouth. Close your eyes.”
Maya obeyed, tilting her head back, presenting her face like an offering bowl. She squeezed her eyes shut, her heart hammering against her ribs. The sound was a shock—a hard, powerful stream, not a trickle. The first hot splash hit her lips, her chin, then her neck and chest. The warmth was startling, the smell musky and intimate. She flinched, a tiny, involuntary jerk.
“Do not move,” he commanded, his voice a low growl. The stream moved, painting stripes across her collarbones, soaking her brown hair, dripping from her earlobes. It pooled in the hollow of her throat and ran in rivulets between her huge, trembling breasts. The humiliation was absolute, a scalding baptism.
When he finished, he let the last few drops fall onto her parted lips. “Open your eyes.”
She did. Her vision was blurred, her face wet. He looked down at her, his cock glistening, a dark, satisfied authority in his gaze.
“Now clean it. Start with your mouth.”
Maya leaned forward, her tongue extending. She licked the salty, bitter drops from her own top lip, then her bottom lip. A low, guttural moan escaped her as she did it—not of disgust, but of shocking, deep-seated arousal. The act of debasement was unlocking something feral inside her.
“Your tits. Clean them.”
She bowed her head, her tongue swiping through the wet trails on her chest, lapping at her own skin. She took a nipple into her mouth, sucking the taste of him from it, her other hand cupping her breast in a lewd, self-directed worship.
“Good girl,” he murmured, the praise hitting her harder than the stream had. “Now, the final part. Clean me.”
He guided his cock to her mouth. It was wet with her. She opened wide, her tongue swirling around the head, licking him clean with desperate, fervent strokes. The taste was overwhelming, primal. She took him deep into her throat, swallowing the remnants, her submission complete.
“Swallow it,” he ordered, his hand tightening in her hair.
She did, a final, obedient gulp. Then she looked up at him, her green eyes wide, her face and body marked, her soul irrevocably altered.
“You have passed,” he said, his voice softening into something almost possessive. “My perfect, filthy girl. You’ve earned your place. On Thursday, you will be my masterpiece.”
He pulled her to her feet and kissed her, hard, his tongue claiming the mouth that had just served him so utterly. As he broke the kiss, his hand slid between her legs. She was dripping, her pussy swollen and throbbing.
“Such a good, hungry slut,” he growled against her lips, his fingers plunging into her wet heat. “Come for me. Come all over my hand. Show me what this does to you.”
His command was all it took. The orgasm tore through her, a violent, convulsing wave that made her cry out against his chest, her knees buckling as he held her up. It was the climax of her degradation, a brutal, perfect release that left her shuddering and utterly his.
Chapter 7
The following Thursday. The same suite. Maya knelt in her appointed spot, the city lights a blurred backdrop. She was naked, shaved, her skin tingling from the thorough, clinical shower Nathaniel had supervised. This was the final rehearsal.
Nathaniel stood before her, holding a heavy, black silicone toy. It was long, thick, and veined, glistening with lubricant. The sight of it made her breath catch.
“You know what tonight is, Maya,” he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in her bones.
“Yes, Sir,” she whispered, her green eyes fixed on the toy. “The night I meet your friends.”
“Exactly. You will be shared. You will service them. And your tight little ass will learn a new purpose.” He knelt, bringing himself to her eye level. “Your mouth will be busy, but your ass will not be idle. Do you understand the sequence?”
She shook her head, a tremor running through her.
“I’ll describe it for you,” he said, his blue eyes holding hers captive. “Marcus will be first. He’ll take you from behind, filling that perfect pussy of yours. And while he’s pounding you, you’ll be on your knees for Leo, taking his thick cock down your throat.”
He brought the cold, slick head of the toy to press against her anus. She gasped, her body tensing.
“And right here,” he continued, applying steady, inexorable pressure, “right in this forbidden little hole, will be James. He’ll start with this toy, stretching you, preparing you. And when you’re loose and dripping and crying around Leo’s cock, he’ll replace it with his own.”
The toy breached her, a slow, burning invasion that made her cry out. It was massive, stretching her unbearably.
“Oh god,” she moaned, the fullness a shocking, degrading pleasure.
“That’s it,” Nathaniel growled, watching her face intently as he pushed it deeper. “You’ll feel all three of them. You’ll be a living toy, a hole for each of us to use. You’ll come over and over, won’t you, you filthy slut? You’ll come from being used in every hole at once.”
The explicit, vile promise, paired with the relentless pressure inside her, detonated something primal. A climax ripped through her with no warning, a brutal, convulsing wave that tore a ragged scream from her throat. Her body clenched wildly around the invading toy, her pussy gushing wetness onto the carpet as she shook uncontrollably at his feet, owned completely by his words and his will.
He held her through it, his hand firm on her hip, his gaze triumphant. When the tremors subsided, leaving her panting and dazed, he slowly withdrew the toy.
“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice thick with approval. “That’s exactly how you will break for them. You are ready.”
He pulled her into his lap, holding her spent, trembling form against his chest in a brief, possessive aftercare. She was empty, marked, and perfectly prepared. His masterpiece was complete.
Chapter 8
The electronic lock chirped at precisely eight o’clock. This time, the air didn’t just compress; it crystallized.
Nathaniel entered first, his blue eyes finding her immediately, a master checking his work. A second man followed, closing the door with a soft, final click. Marcus. He was broader than Nathaniel, with a close-cropped beard and dark, appraising eyes that swept over her kneeling form with detached interest.
She was naked, positioned in the center of the room, her knees on the plush carpet. The rehearsals were over.
“You remember the rules, Maya,” Nathaniel said, his voice calm. He walked to the armchair and sat, crossing his legs, a king on his throne. “Present yourself.”
She leaned forward, pressing her forehead to the floor, her back arched, her ass in the air—a perfect offering. The submissive posture sent its usual, obedient heat through her veins.
“Look at that,” Marcus said, his voice a gravelly baritone. He circled her slowly. “You weren’t exaggerating, Jon. She’s built for it.” He stopped in front of her. “Look at me, girl.”
Maya lifted her head. His gaze was cool, professional.
“Nathaniel tells me you’re a quick study. That you have a talented mouth.” He unzipped his trousers, freeing a thick, heavy cock. It was already half-hard. “Demonstrate. Let’s see what twenty-one years of pent-up wife has learned in a few weeks.”
A direct command. A test. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she shuffled forward on her knees. The scent of him, clean soap and masculine musk, filled her senses. She opened her mouth, her full lips stretching to take the broad head.
“Slowly,” Marcus commanded, his hand coming to rest on the back of her head, not forcing, just guiding. “No hands. Just that pretty mouth. Show me the control he’s taught you.”
She obeyed, taking him deeper with a practiced, liquid slide of her tongue along his underside. She hollowed her cheeks, applying suction, her green eyes locked on his belt buckle.
“Good Christ,” Marcus grunted, his fingers tightening in her hair. “She’s a natural swallower.”
From his chair, Nathaniel watched, a faint, proud smile on his lips. “I told you. She was born for this. All that warm, wifely enthusiasm just needed the proper direction. Look at her. She’s not just doing it; she’s *devouring* it.”
His commentary, the voyeuristic praise, sent a fresh jolt of wetness between her legs. She moaned around Marcus’s girth, the vibration making his hips jerk.
“Fuck, she likes an audience,” Marcus growled, beginning to move, setting a deeper, rougher rhythm. “You like us talking about you, you filthy slut? Like knowing your Master is watching you service his friend?”
She couldn’t speak, could only nod, tears of strain and overwhelming arousal gathering in her eyes as he filled her throat.
“See how she takes it?” Nathaniel’s voice was a low, hypnotic murmur. “No gag reflex left. I trained that out of her. She’s my perfect little cocksleeve. Now make her prove it. Give her your load. Let’s see if she earns her keep.”
The crude, degrading permission was the final trigger. Marcus’s control snapped. With a raw groan, he held her head firmly and fucked her mouth with short, brutal thrusts. “Take it! Swallow every fucking drop!”
The hot, salty rush flooded her throat. She gulped convulsively, her body seizing as a brutal, unexpected orgasm ripped through her. It was silent, internal, a detonation of pure submission that left her trembling violently as she milked him with her lips, swallowing until he was soft.
Marcus pulled out with a wet pop. Maya slumped back on her heels, panting, cum glistening on her chin.
Nathaniel stood and walked over, crouching to tilt her face up. He wiped her chin with his thumb, then pushed it into her mouth, making her taste herself. “Perfect,” he whispered, his blue eyes blazing with possession. “You are so perfectly trained.”