Be Sweet

You, like Rome, weren’t built in a day.

But you sure can collapse in an hour.

—

Anything for your mommy.

The room is filled with the scent of sweat and fading air purifier. The evening sunlight drapes over, casting orange hues on the wall. Silence takes over.

It’s serene.

It’s calming.

But this is not the end of the road.

Your body twitches against Mina’s, face lying next to the spit-soaked cock you just sucked mere minutes ago. The saliva drips down to the floor, adding more to the filth puddle. You’re voiceless, throat ravaged by her thrusts. Mina’s hand rests on your face, thumb swiping at your temple fondly. Warmth ripples through your body with each touch. The entire world disappears. It’s just you and her. You feel so secure.

“You’ve been such a good boy for mommy, you know that?” Mina coos, kneeling down to face you. She’s just so immaculate—sharp eyeliner, soft cheeks, red lips. She’s the opposite of what you are—tired eyes, drool-slicked mouth, debauched face. Her thumb rubs on your cheek lovingly, so gentle. “One more hole for mommy, can you do that?”

Your expression melts, nuzzling against her palm, whimpering.

You’re just beyond saving.

“Yes, mommy.”

Mina smiles, planting a tender kiss on your forehead. It’s gentle. It’s compassionate. You just close your eyes, letting her love flood your heart. The same love that wrecked your mouth, broke you into pieces.

She stands up, giving you her hand. Her poise is still as confident as ever. You’re lost in every movement of hers.

“Come on, I wanna show you something,” she says, smiling.

You reach for her hand, slowly getting up from your knees. Not a single idea where she’ll take you.

But you trust her.

Your legs are sore as you try to stand up. It hurts, but you’re on your feet, upright, eventually. You gain back the only thing you have against her, your height. She gives you an approving look, and you just smile weakly as a reply.

Mina takes a step, leading you away from the desk. Her hand pulls you towards her. You follow her trail, making sure not to place your feet in the pool of your saliva. Each step feels heavy, ache and all.

She guides you to the window, letting you take in everything outside. You stand by her side, watching the sunset cast an orange hue all over the sky. The skyline is gorgeous—skyscrapers intercut with the mountain far away. People are going back to their homes—so chaotic, so bustling. Cars are stuck in traffic; red lights are everywhere. Birds are flying back to their nests. You take in the view.

And it’s just a sight for sore eyes.

Suddenly, you feel hands at your belt—Mina’s. It comes off so easily. Her face is focused—eyes trained on your crotch, lips pressed together. She’s cold. She’s competent. She’s a professional. In a second, the zipper is pulled down, and your pants pool on the floor.

Your erection pokes the fabric of your boxers—a tent, to describe. It twitches. A dark spot has already formed at the peak. The waistline strains, creating that small window for somebody to peer inside.

“Looks big,” Mina scoffs. “Shame that it won’t be inside me soon.”

Oh, it’s happening again. The humiliation. The roughness. The punishment.

You say nothing. Your voice isn’t a parameter here, anyway. Mina grabs the edge of your boxers, pulling it down with ease. Your cock springs free from its fabric cage, leaving you exposed—to her, to the city. A free demo from Mina’s window, maybe some in-app purchases for the full experience.

“Hands on the window,” she orders—sleek, direct. Mina circles around, positioning herself behind you. Once again, dread blights your blood. Your body quivers uncontrollably. Still, you press your hands against the window, eyes taking in the view down below. Everybody has their duties—work, chores, family. They’re anchored to something. They’re worthy of something.

And for you?

It’s being your boss’ slut.

“Ooh, nice view,” Mina sings, before stepping away. You remain still, though, waiting for that punishment to crash on you. You hear a rustling sound of fabric behind you, and in confusion, you look back.

Mina is holding her phone.

She can do so many things with it, but oh, you’re so sure what she’s going to do.

“I love sunsets,” Mina hums, stepping towards you again. You watch as she holds the bottom corner of her screen for a second, before lifting the phone towards you.

Off-PDF documentation, JPEG format.

Or worse, MOV.

You feel her free hand grab your waist. You flinch; that warmth is not comforting anymore. “Look outside,” she says, and you just comply. Once again, you’re met with the peaceful chaos of the city—people walking, stuck cars, tree branches swaying with the wind. The tip of her wet cock ghosts near your cheeks. You can see her reflection in the window, aiming her weapons at you.

“Oh” — she moves her camera down slightly — “did I mention that I also love backshots?”

No response returned, just a whimper against the window.

“Wait a second, gotta compose this a bit,” Mina muses, and you watch her angling the camera—from the top, face-level, from below. She ponders, dragging that dread storming inside you. It’s probably the mood she’s going for, though. Looks good in black and white.

“There we go.”

Her phone hovers near your head-level, a few steps back. You’re probably slightly off-center—artistic choice. She’s in the frame too. Director-actor vibes. The shiver won’t make it blurry; the shutter speed will be high enough with the sun still up. Portrait, not landscape, makes the edge line up with the window.

“One. Two. Three!”

Click.

That’s it.

That’s your legacy—an overtime whore.

She hums, “Pretty good, love the light. I’ll send it to you after you finish cumming.”

Now, that’s some levity. You get to cum.

“Oh, I need another photo before I put it in. Do you mind?” Mina asks—so casually, like borrowing a pen.

The possibilities reel through your mind. A selfie? A couple photo? Another backshot? It’s not your business. You’re just an actor here—just follow the script.