Worshipping The Bully Ch.02

 **Chapter 2: The First Payment**

Khadija moved through her kitchen like a ghost. The thick, salty taste of Tyler’s cum still coated her tongue and throat no matter how many times she brushed her teeth or drank water. Every swallow sent a fresh wave of shame through her, yet her pussy remained slick and aching.

Amir helped her prepare the biryani, his black eye still ugly but his trust in her unwavering. “Thank you for talking to the dean, Mom. I feel safer already.”

She stroked his hair and smiled, even as guilt clawed at her insides. *If only you knew the real price your mother is paying.*

Dinner was pure torment.

Ahmed came home irritable and distant. His parents arrived soon after. Tariq, her father-in-law, kept stealing glances at her breasts while making backhanded compliments. Ahmed barely spoke to her. His mother criticized the spices. Khadija sat through it all with perfect poise — the dutiful Muslim wife and mother — while another man’s load sat heavy in her belly and her clit still throbbed from the memory of being used.

That night, after the house had gone quiet, her phone buzzed.

**Unknown number:**  

*Tomorrow morning. 7:45. Motel 6 on Route 18, Room 127. Don’t make me wait. Same abaya. If you’re late, your little paki son pays the price.*

A photo followed — Amir walking across campus, completely unaware Tyler had been watching him again.

Khadija deleted everything and barely slept, torn between dread and shameful anticipation.

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The next morning she told Ahmed she was dropping Amir off again “just to be safe.” At 7:30 she was already driving toward the seedy Motel 6 just off campus — a rundown place used by truckers and people who wanted to stay invisible. Room 127 was at the far end. Tyler’s black truck was parked right in front.

She knocked softly. The door opened immediately.

Tyler stood there in a black hoodie and jeans, smirking. “Get inside, towelhead.”

Khadija stepped in hesitantly, the smell of cheap cleaner and stale smoke hitting her. The room was dim, curtains drawn, bed unmade. She wrapped her arms around herself.

“This… this was only supposed to happen when necessary,” she whispered, voice shaking with reluctance. “I did what you wanted yesterday. You weren’t supposed to demand me again so soon.”

Tyler locked the door and stepped close, towering over her. “Necessary is whenever my balls get full and I feel like using my new Muslim cumrag. You made the deal to protect your weak little son. Backing out already?”

She looked down at the filthy carpet, tears pricking her eyes. “No… I’m not backing out. But please… just leave Amir alone. I’ll do what you want.”

He grabbed her chin hard, forcing her to meet his cold blue eyes. “Then say it. Tell me what you are.”

Khadija’s voice cracked with shame. “I’m… I’m your secret Muslim cumrag. I’ll service you so you don’t hurt my son.”

Tyler grinned darkly. “Good girl. On your knees.”

She hesitated for a long moment, whispering a silent prayer, then slowly sank to the rough carpet. Tyler unzipped and pulled out his massive white cock — already thick and heavy, veins pulsing along the pale shaft.

“Hands behind your back.”

She obeyed, clasping her wrists. He slapped the fat, leaking head across her face and hijab, smearing precum.

“Open that married mouth.”

Khadija parted her lips reluctantly. He pushed inside slowly, letting her tongue feel every ridge. The musky, masculine taste flooded her senses again.

“Fuuuuck, that’s perfect,” he groaned. “Your beta husband ever get his tiny paki dick sucked like this?”

She shook her head, eyes watering as he slid deeper. Tyler took his time, fucking her mouth with long, deliberate strokes — pulling out until just the head rested on her tongue, then sliding all the way in until her nose pressed against his pelvis and his heavy balls rested on her chin.

For nearly fifteen minutes he used her like this. Slow and deep. Then faster, making her gag and choke loudly. Saliva poured down her chin in thick rivers, soaking the front of her abaya and dripping onto her breasts. He pulled out repeatedly to slap his slick cock across her face, rub it on her hijab, and make her lick his balls.

“Lick them properly, whore. Worship the balls that own your son’s safety.”

Khadija obeyed, tongue bathing his heavy sack while fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. Her pussy was absolutely drenched, clit aching.

Tyler finally pulled her back to his shaft. “Eyes on me.”

She looked up at him through wet lashes as he started throat-fucking her harder. The wet, obscene glucking sounds filled the cheap motel room. He held her head with both hands, using her mouth like a fleshlight, occasionally holding her down until her throat convulsed around him.

After a long while he slowed, breathing ragged. “Stand up. Take the top off.”

Khadija rose shakily. “Please… not everything. I have to go home right after.”

“Shut up and do it.”

She unbuttoned her abaya and pulled it down to her waist, then let him yank her bra down. Her large, heavy brown breasts spilled out, dark nipples stiff with unwanted arousal.

Tyler shoved her onto the bed on her back, straddled her chest, and slid his thick cock between her soft tits. He fucked them slowly, the fat head bumping her lips with every thrust while he pinched and twisted her nipples.

At the same time, his hand slipped under her abaya, shoved her soaked panties aside, and sank two thick fingers deep into her married cunt.

“Ahh—!” Khadija moaned, hips bucking despite herself.

“Yeah? Feel that?” He curled his fingers, stroking her G-spot while his thumb rubbed her swollen clit. “Cumming on the same fingers that beat your son. Say it, sand whore.”

“I… I’m cumming on your fingers,” she whimpered, shame burning through her.

He finger-fucked her relentlessly while continuing the titfuck. Khadija came hard within minutes — thighs trembling, pussy gushing around his hand, a broken cry escaping her lips as waves of unwanted pleasure crashed through her.

Tyler kept going, drawing out her orgasm until she was twitching and gasping. Then he pulled his cock from between her tits and shoved it back into her mouth.

“Suck. I’m gonna paint that pretty Muslim face.”

He fucked her throat with short, rapid thrusts, gripping her hijab like reins. Khadija sucked desperately, tears streaming, until he finally pulled out with a groan.

Thick, powerful ropes of hot white cum erupted across her face, tongue, heaving breasts, and splattered heavily onto her hijab. He milked every drop, marking her completely.

When he finished, he tapped his cock on her cum-covered lips. “Clean it.”

She licked him gently and thoroughly, swallowing the last remnants while more tears fell.

Tyler stood up, tucked himself away, and looked down at the ruined Pakistani mother lying there covered in his seed.

“Good payment. Your son stays safe… for today. I’ll text you when I want the next one. Leave the cum on you until you get home. I want you smelling like me when you kiss that little faggot on the forehead.”

He left the motel room without another word.

Khadija lay on the bed for several long minutes, fingers frantically rubbing her clit until she came again — even harder — biting the pillow to stay quiet.

She cleaned up just enough to be presentable, but the smell of sex and drying cum still clung to her skin, hijab, and clothes.

When she picked up Amir later, he was smiling brightly.

“No one even looked at me today, Mom. You really saved me.”

Khadija forced a gentle smile, Tyler’s cum still drying on her breasts beneath her abaya.

“Yes, beta. Everything is going to be okay.”

She drove home with her thighs pressed tightly together, already dreading the next message… and the growing ache between her legs that came with it.

**End of Chapter 2**