Even though she hated the taste, she loved when he came in her mouth. She never felt more connected to him than when they would stare into each others’ eyes while he unloaded in her wet little mouth.
She didn’t even know his name, but she knew that, tight now, she loved him and would do anything for him.
It was always the same. The moment a man pushed her down, called her a whore and reminded her that he hated her, she felt a wave of adoration, a massive urge to do anything he wants, hoping to please him.
He’d choke her, humiliate her, break her on his cock…
And she’d love it, or more specifically, love him. And always feel just as heart-broken when he pushed her out the door and left her to dress in the street.