Drunk bitch got fucked - puking at the end

The neon sign of "The Institute for Advanced Spirits" flickered as Clara stumbled toward the entrance. She'd answered an online ad for liquor tasters – easy money for a woman who could handle her alcohol, or so she thought. The ad had been vague, but the pay was good, and Clara, who made her living on her back and knees, was always looking for new opportunities.

In the sterile waiting room, Clara grew impatient. A bottle of bourbon sat on a side table, apparently for waiting guests. She helped herself to a generous glass, then another. When that was empty, her eyes landed on a bottle of vodka in a small fridge. Without hesitation, she cracked it open and drank nearly half straight from the bottle.

By the time the door opened and a man in a lab coat called her name, Clara was thoroughly smashed. She tried to stand but wavered dangerously, knocking over a stack of magazines.

"Clara?" the man asked, his expression already souring. "Are you... fit for the tasting?"

"I'm perf-fectly fine," she slurred, pushing herself up and staggering into the tasting room.

The room was clinical, with a single table and two chairs. The man gestured for her to sit as he poured a small amount of amber liquid into a tasting glass.

"This is our new blend," he explained. "We need honest feedback on the flavor profile and finish."

Clara reached for the glass, but her coordination was shot. She knocked it over, spilling the expensive liquor across the table.

"You stupid bitch!" the man roared, his professional demeanor evaporating instantly. "We're paying you to taste, not to get wasted beforehand!"

As Clara tried to apologize, her legs gave out and she sank to her knees. The man grabbed her by the hair, yanking her head back.

"Can't even hold a fucking glass," he sneered. "What good are you?"

With his free hand, he unzipped his pants and pulled out his already hard dick. Without preamble, he shoved it into Clara's mouth.

"Suck it, you stupid whore," he commanded, thrusting into her throat. "Getting so dumb drunk you can't even take a sip anymore. Fucking pathetic."

Clara, barely conscious, did her best to comply, but her movements were sloppy and unfocused. In the struggle, her low-cut top shifted, exposing her breasts.

The man pulled out abruptly as Clara collapsed to the floor. "Worthless," he muttered, positioning himself between her legs.

He entered her roughly, ignoring her half-formed protests. Clara was too drunk to resist, her body limp as he fucked her in multiple positions – first missionary, then flipping her over for doggy style, and finally rolling her onto her side.

Throughout, he continued his verbal assault. "Stupid fuckwhore," he grunted. "This is all you're good for. A hole to fill."

After what felt like an eternity, he pulled out and stroked himself, shooting his cum across Clara's face and hair.

"Clean up this mess," he called toward the door. An assistant entered moments later.

"Get this fucking whore out of here," the man ordered, zipping up his pants. "And clean her up before she ruins the carpet."

The assistant grabbed Clara by the arms, dragging her from the room. "Clean that fucking whore!" the man yelled after them.

In a small bathroom down the hall, the assistant shoved Clara into a shower stall and turned on the cold water. The shock, combined with the massive amount of alcohol she'd consumed, triggered Clara's gag reflex. She doubled over, vomiting a large gush of liquor and bile onto the shower floor.

As she collapsed against the tiles, barely conscious, Clara realized this wasn't the easy money she'd been promised. It was just another day of being used and discarded – a role she knew all too well.