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Hooker

By: Haroldx



Foreword

This story is a sequel to the Want Ad/Palmistry/Therapy series. You needn’t have read the others to know what’s going on in this one and the only character common to the others is the main character, Bob. Reading the others will, however, give you some insight into who Bob is and why he’s doing what he’s doing.

There was something wrong with this picture. The woman standing on the street corner was wearing a navy blue dress which hung just below her knees, navy blue hose, and medium heels. Her blond hair was freshly permed, and just barely brushed her shoulders. She stood stiffly erect with her feet together and her eyes cast down. Her hands were clasped behind her and the handcuffs which restrained them looked huge on her slender wrists.

It wasn’t the sight of a woman standing on the corner in handcuffs that was odd. It was common to see hookers being arrested on the avenue. What was odd was that this woman didn’t look like a hooker. The hookers who worked the avenue were universally unattractive. They plied their trade on the avenue because is it was the only place they could find customers who were desperate enough to pay for their services.

The only attractive hookers on the avenue were police decoys. Everyone knew this except the Johns, who were even dumber than the hookers. When the police would run their occasional decoy operations, a guy could be getting arrested twenty feet away and another would walk right up to the decoy, make a solicitation, and be arrested himself. They didn’t want to be seen with a hooker and thought they could achieve this end by not seeing anything themselves.

I drove the avenue every day on my way to and from work and knew most of the regular hookers by sight. I would see one of the hookers being arrested every once in a while. The ladies all knew the drill and when arrested would usually lean, handcuffed, against a tree or utility pole or sometimes just sit on the curb while waiting for the paddy wagon. If they were on drugs, they would fidget continuously. One or two cops would stand nearby, bored and likewise waiting for the wagon.

That’s what was wrong with the scene on the corner. This woman was attractive--not gorgeous, just pretty much normal looking. Her clothing was conservative, not provocative, and clean. I had never seen her before. She stood erect and unmoving, looking like nothing so much as a middle class housewife. A plain clothes officer stood next to her. Such women normally wouldn’t be seen on the avenue. What was she doing there? Why had she been arrested?

I was on my way to the bank to make the day’s deposit. After I finished, I drove by the corner again. The woman was not in sight, but a paddy wagon was parked at the curb. I assumed she was locked inside.

I drove on home. The scene on the street corner was just something I had glimpsed while driving by, but I couldn’t get the woman out of my head. I wondered if she had turned to prostitution to get herself out of some financial bind, but it didn’t make sense. Why the avenue? She could make more money with less hassle from the cops by working the hotels. Not only that, the avenue was dangerous. More than one of the girls who worked there had been fished out of the river minus a limb or two. The girls on the avenue were there because they had run out of options. This woman’s dress and general demeanor indicated resources unavailable to the usual avenue hooker.

I watched the sidewalks every day for the next couple of weeks, hoping to see her again. When the avenue girls were busted, they’d be back on the street in the next day or two, so I thought there was some chance of spotting her.

Although I drove the avenue every day and was familiar with all the regulars, I had never actually talked to any of the hookers. They were not ones such as would inspire lust, and while I had sympathy for their plight, I wanted nothing to do with them. This woman was different. There was something about her. The street corner tableaux had burned itself into my brain and the unknown woman had become the main character in my erotic fantasies. I wondered what I would do if I actually saw her again. Would I stop and talk to her? Perhaps inquire as to her price?

About a month later I was buying a loaf of bread. I was in the checkout line behind a woman with a full cart who had apparently noticed my single item.

“Would you like to go in front of me?”

I pulled my head out of the clouds and looked to see who was talking to me. It was her. I stared. 

“Do I know you?” she asked. It was clear that I recognized her, but she couldn’t place me.

“We’ve never met, but I’ve seen you before.”

“Oh, where?”

“On the avenue at 14th street. You were wearing handcuffs at the time.”

She turned bright red, wheeled her cart about, and got in the farthest checkout line. “Wait...,” I called. She ignored me.

“Well, you really blew that one,” I told myself. I thought about following her, but that would be stupid. I would only dig myself deeper into her bad graces by trying to force contact. I could only hope that fortune would provide me with a future occasion.

Her departure had left me next in the check out line, whereas she was now at the end of another line. It would be a while before she came out. I paid for my bread and left.

I decided to increase the odds of a future encounter by finding out where she lived. I sat in my car and waited. My back was to the store and I watched the door in the mirror. It was a full fifteen minutes before she emerged. I watched as she pushed her cart full of sacks along the front of the building toward the edge of the lot. Even though there were a lot of cars in the lot and people coming and going, I didn’t want to chance drawing her attention by starting my engine. I would wait until she was occupied starting her own.

As she neared the edge of the parking lot, rather than turning toward the last row of parked cars, she pushed her cart onto the sidewalk and disappeared around the corner of the building. For a moment I was surprised that she hadn’t parked in the lot, then I realized there was no parking on the street. She hadn’t come in a car. She was on foot. Damn. There was no inconspicuous way to follow a pedestrian in a car. I would either have to drive past her multiple times or park and watch until she turned a corner, then move to a new vantage point. I headed home.

I had learned a couple of things. She apparently didn’t have a car. Pushing a cart as full as hers over the rough sidewalks in this area is not something you would do if you had other options, although I suppose her car could have been in the shop. The other thing I learned was that she lived nearby. There had been ice cream in her cart and it was a warm day, so she wasn’t going too far. Since she had been pushing the cart north on the west side of the building, it was also reasonable to assume she lived to the north and west.

I wondered if she had a family. I hadn’t paid all that much attention to the stuff in her cart, but hadn’t seen anything that would specifically indicate children. Nevertheless, the quantity of stuff she had purchased indicated she was shopping for more than one.

As I drove home, I started thinking about the shopping cart. Although I knew almost nothing about this woman, I had a feeling she wasn’t someone who would steal a shopping cart. I drove back to the store and parked on a side street about two blocks north of the store. About ten minutes later, I saw her in my rear view mirror, pushing the empty cart back toward the store. She walked right by me and I wished I had been wearing a hat to pull down over my face. I didn’t want her to catch me spying on her. My concern was unwarranted. She passed by without a glance. I’m not even sure she knew I was there.

This was unusual behavior for someone who lived near the avenue. Most of the women I knew made sure they knew who was around them and some made a point of making eye contact with anyone they felt might be threatening. Nevertheless, it made a consistent package. Being oblivious to her surroundings and returning the shopping cart seemed to fit together. She hadn’t been here long.

After she was out of sight, I moved the car. I was on a street just east of the one running north from the store and had by chance parked on the street she lived on, but hadn’t seen what house she came out of. I parked at the other end of the block and awaited her return.

After a bit, I saw her turn onto the street where I was parked and walk toward me. About half way down the block, she entered a small bungalow.

I waited a few minutes, then drove past the house and returned home. I hadn’t seen anything in the yard or on the porch that told me anything.

When I got home, I looked up the address in the cross reference. The name attached to that address was Gregory Silva. I called the phone number listed with the address.

“May I speak to Gregory?”

“I’m sorry, he doesn’t live here.” It sounded like her voice, but I couldn’t be sure. She had only spoken a few words to me.

“Is this 1824 Spruce?”

“Yes, but he doesn’t live here.”

“Where can I find him?”

“I don’t know. He lives out of state, but I don’t have his number.”

“Okay, thanks. Sorry to bother you.”

I’m not sure what I would have done if Gregory had answered. Probably told him he’d been specially chosen to win a trip to Cancun and all he had to pay for were the airline tickets, meals, tips, and hotel room.

I had thought about trying to keep her on the phone in the hopes of getting a conversation going, but decided to cut it short. I didn’t want her to be able to recognize my voice if I encountered her again.

Gregory may have moved out of state, but it was curious that his listed telephone number still rang at his listed address.

I decided it was time to stop being obsessive and return to real life. I went out to mow the lawn. After I finished, I showered, brought the mail in, sorted the bills by due date, and tossed the junk mail in the trash. Even from the trash I could still hear it screaming: Urgent! Dated Material, Open Immediately! I ignored the clamor and put my loaf of bread to use, making a sandwich. I got a beer from the fridge and sat down to eat.

I hadn’t even taken a bite of my sandwich when the doorbell rang. I got up and headed for the front door, carrying my sandwich in one hand so it would be obvious to whomever it was that he had interrupted my lunch.

My jaw dropped and I nearly dropped my sandwich. She was standing on my porch, right in front of me. I managed to gather my wits quickly enough to get the first word in.

“Would you like some lunch?” I asked, proffering the sandwich.

“No, thank you.”

“Would you like to come in?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Would you like to go out?”

“No.”

“Well, what do you want?”

My little twenty questions game was carried out almost by reflex. If I had had more time to think, I would have asked her questions that would have had her agreeing with me. Nevertheless, I had gained some psychological advantage. I had her answering questions and now she would have to say whatever it was that she came to say in response to my demand for an explanation of her presence.

“I want to know why you’re stalking me.”

Was I stalking her? I had maybe an hour total invested in today’s activities. That hardly qualified as stalking, although it was the result of several weeks of obsessing about her.

“And how do you come to the conclusion that you’re being stalked?” I wanted to know more about where she was coming from and what she wanted. The way she had phrased her question struck me as odd. She hadn’t demanded that I stop, she just wanted to know why, but I’m sure a demand to cease and desist was next on the agenda. I would have to see if I could deflect her before she got that far.

“You got behind me in line at the grocery store, you followed me home, you know my address and phone number. How long have you been following me?”

That helped. She didn’t realize the store was a chance encounter. Apparently she had seen me when I’d watched her from the car, and also recognized my voice on the phone. I’d been wrong about her not being aware of her surroundings. She was, if anything, more aware than average. On the other hand, I’d been right about her taking the cart back, so at least some of my speculations about her had been correct.

I wasn’t surprised that she had found me. I hadn’t bothered to block my number when I’d called hers and I was in the phone book. Given that she’d recognized my voice, it wasn’t surprising that she’d located me. I was surprised to find her here on my doorstep. She was right here, talking to me. I had to somehow take advantage of this opportunity. I had to make her want to see me again after she left. It probably wasn’t going to be easy.

“That’s going to take a bit of explanation. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to come in?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“In that case, let’s sit here on the porch. Would you like something to drink?”

“No, thank you.”

I wasn’t being too successful at laying obligations on her, although I did get her to sit. I cast about for another tactic. How had she gotten here? I looked about and spotted the bicycle leaning against the tree next to the curb.

“Before we go any further, we’d better get your bike up on the porch. It’s not safe where it is.”

“Nobody would take it while we’re watching.”

“You’re not from around here, are you?” I headed down the steps to get the bike. I leaned it against the wall behind me and sat down at the table across from her. I now had control of her transportation.

“No. I just moved here about a month ago.”

“And what brings you here?”

“Divorce. I had to have a cheaper place to stay. You still haven’t answered my question.”

“When did you first become aware that you were being stalked?”

“Today.”

“And how long do you think it’s been going on?”

“You said you saw me arrested. You must have been following me then if you saw that.”

“So you think I’ve been watching you for weeks?”

“Well, yes. You know my address and phone number, when I go to the store...everything.”

“There is one thing I don’t know. I don’t know your name.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true. I have no idea what your name is. Since your phone is listed to some guy named Silva, I could speculate that your last name is Silva, but I could be wrong.”

“You are.”

“I have even less idea what your first name is. What is your name?”

“I don’t think I want to say.”

“Well, at least tell me your first name. It can’t hurt. If I’m lying, I already know. If I’m not, then things are not what you think. You know my name, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Well?”

“Alright. It’s Rachel; but I won’t tell you my last name.”

“That’s okay. At least I know what to call you. Now, let me tell you how my interest in you came about. Then you can do some explaining of your own.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’ll get to that, but first let me give you some background.” I explained that it was just by chance that I had witnessed her arrest, and only about 30 seconds of it at that, and how it had drawn my interest because it struck me as so unusual. I told her I had forgotten about the whole thing (which wasn’t true) until I had by chance found myself behind her in line at the store. Even then, I probably wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t spoken to me. Her reaction to my telling her that I’d seen her in handcuffs piqued my curiosity even further. I had to know more about her, how she had come to be arrested, etc.

“You mean you’ve only seen me once before today?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you. Until today, all I’d seen of you was a passing glimpse of your arrest. You’re more observant than average, yet you never saw me before today. Surely you’d have noticed me before if I was stalking you.”

“But you followed me home.”

“Exactly. If I’d been following you all these weeks, wouldn’t I already know where you lived? I wanted to meet you, but didn’t know if I’d ever even see you again. I thought that if I knew where you lived, I could improve the odds.”

“So you saw me in handcuffs and wanted to meet me.”

“I’ll admit being attracted to women in handcuffs, but there was more to it than that. Your reaction when I mentioned it at the store was what really got me going. You became a mysterious woman with a secret. Now that I’ve actually met you and talked to you, you’re even more mysterious.”

“Why?”

“You present all these contradictions. On one level, you seem naive and you don’t know how to handle yourself in this neighborhood, yet you pay attention to everything that goes on around you and don’t make it obvious that you’re watching. You strike me as being a bit shy, yet when you think you’re being stalked, you come and ring my doorbell to confront me. That’s so brave and so stupid, I truly don’t know what to think of you.”

“So what should I have done?”

“What should you have done? Almost anything else. You don’t have enough to go to the police with, so you check it out from a distance. Call me on the phone, or have some guy you know call me or come by and see me. There are lots of ways to handle a situation like that without putting yourself in danger.”

“Am I in danger?”

“Of course not, but you would be if you were really being stalked.”

“But if I’m not in danger, what’s the problem?”

“Rachel, that’s nuts. The only thing I can figure is that you knew before hand that I’m not truly stalking you, or you have a thing for dangerous men.”

“As long as they’re not too dangerous.”

What did she mean by that? Was she flirting? Normally I would have viewed a response like that as in invitation to raise the stakes, but with her I couldn’t tell. She had said it so matter-of-factly that her intent was unreadable.

“I don’t know where you moved here from, but the dangerous men around here are very dangerous. You can’t pull this kind of stunt and assume you’ll survive.” That seemed to shock her.

“So what...so what about you? Are you dangerous?”

“That’s something you’ll have to decide for yourself.” This was the first time she had faltered. Up until now, she had spoken with complete self assurance. But with this sentence, there was a catch in her throat. If it had been delivered smoothly and suavely, it would have been an obvious come on line, but it wasn’t. Her delivery was forced and it was like there was a major lump in her throat. There was just the faintest touch of “Take me, you fool” in it, but also a bit of apprehension, maybe some disappointment, and something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on, something like an unsuccessful attempt to sound detached..

The one thing I was certain of was that I was that I had witnessed a breach in her defenses. I was getting to her. I knew what to do next: send her home. “Rachel, it’s time for you to go.” I picked up her bike and carried it to the sidewalk. She followed me down the steps and I handed her the bike.

Time to close the sale. This called for physical contact. I took her by the shoulders, turned her toward me, and looked into her eyes. “Shall I forget your phone number?”

“Call me,” she said, and pedaled off.

I returned to my lunch, but ate it without being aware of doing so. Rachel had set my mind (among other things) on fire. She was more mysterious now than ever. She was obviously intelligent, but she was so dumb. I wanted to protect her. I wanted to possess her. I wanted her to stand before me in handcuffs just the way she had stood when I first saw her.

It would be at least fifteen or twenty minutes before I could call her, since it would take her that long to get home. Realistically, I couldn’t call her for a couple of days. It wouldn’t do to get over anxious at this early stage. Today was Saturday. Tuesday sounded about right.


Hooker



I knowingly admit I am a sex addict. I like to be fucked and used over and over again. Having someone own me, to use me whenever they want to makes me feel that my nymphomaniac ways are of some use. I have always dreamed of being a whore. A hooker standing at the corner waiting for a man to pick her. To think she is good enough to fuck. I would write about it in my journal. Never told Master that I desired it. He found it one night while checking my internet traffic. I was never allowed to hide anything from him. This was no different.

"Bitch, get out of bed and in here." I hear him yell from across the house. 

I hardly wake up and he yells it until I get out of bed. Incoherent I wake up and walk to the dining room where he is sitting at the computer. 

"What in gods name are all these pictures of"? he says in a gruff voice

"They are hookers daddy"

He grabs my face hard and puts my nose as close to the screen as it can go. I look at the screen and know I am in trouble. 

"Why are you looking at these woman in these outfits?" He asked with out letting go of my face.

"I have fantasies about being a hooker Master." I say swallowing hard

" Why have you not told me that until now?" He growls back at me

"I suppose I was scared Sir, I do not wish for you to think bad things about me."

"You are to tell me everything you desire, everything you want. You are a whore, we both know that. You have to be fucked on a regular basis. This does not surprise me." He lets go of my face and laughs

"We will be handling this now. Lets go."

He pulls me by my hair and takes me into the bedroom. Pushing me hard onto the bed, he points at me and I know to stay right where I am. He rustles around in the closet for several minutes and my eyes start to tear up. I wonder what it is he will be doing to me. I trust him and know that he will take care of me. Understanding that helps my thoughts. He comes out of the closet with a black mini skirt and tank top. 

"Put this on little whore, I laid your red lipstick on the counter. I want your hair teased and more makeup then you would ever put on. You are to look like a whore tonight. No questions. You have looked at all those pictures, now make yourself look like that. You have 15 minutes to get ready, then I want you walking to the corner of 22nd and pine. You are to stand there like a hooker would. If someone rides up and asks you to service them, you tell them you are waiting for someone. Do you understand?"

"Are you coming for me?" my voices cracks as I ask.

He says nothing to me, but sets the timer on the bathroom counter and walks out slamming the door behind him. I glance at the clock with my eyes still full of sleep. 4:15 am. My eyes start to tear as I slip on the garter and skirt that Master has laid out for me. I put on the lacy see through tank top with no bra, as he has not laid one out for me. I slip my high heel shoes on and start to worry about walking downtown at this hour. With hands shaking I manage to put my red lipstick on and tease my hair. With applying lots of hairspray I smile at myself in the mirror. This is not like me. I never do my hair like this. Never apply this much makeup. I am embarrassed and feel sexy all at once. The timer goes off and I shut the door behind me. The walk seems forever long to the corner of 22nd. Although I know it is only around 5 minutes. Perhaps 3 blocks is all it is, but it seems like miles. My shoes are already hurting my feet and my eyes are constantly scanning the surrounding environment. I get to the corner and do not see Masters car. I forget to put on my watch, so the time seems to drag on. A few cars pull up asking a price and I fidget trying to tell them I am waiting for someone. One man even talks to me for awhile and I keep looking above the car for Master to save me. He isn?t to be seen.

"Come on, I will give you fifty bucks for a blow job. I cum pretty quickly, you don't even have to swallow." The man leans over to the passenger seat of the car.

" I am sorry Sir, but I am waiting for someone." I say nervously through my muffled words.

"I have a heavy thick cock, It is already growing in my pants. Come on baby."

He traces my fingertips that are placed on the window of his car. I shake my head no and he tries to talk me in it some more. When he finally gets the hint that I am not biting, he simply yells out a whatever and drives away. I am embarrassed and start to feel uncomfortable. I walk up and down the street, looking for Master as cars slow down or honk at me. Surprisingly my nipples are erect and my pussy grow wet in my crotch less panties. I was not paying attention as Master pulls up along side of the curb.

"How much?" He says abruptly.

I start to smile and get in, he hit?s the door lock button.

"There are other hookers on the street, I asked how much."

I swallow hard and look him directly in the eyes.

"50 bucks for a blowjob, 100 for a fuck" I say confidently knowing he wants me to be comfortable. 

"And for both?" He asks back.

"You think you can handle both huh?" I chuckle at him taking role. He nods.

"175 for both"I answer back, looking at my nails, trying not to pay attention to him.

"Get in"He opens the door for me

I get in the car and he says not a word. He drives around for a minute and finds a dark alley a few blocks away. He parks the car and immediately starts to grope me. Mauling me with his hands, he tries to kiss me. I tell him that I do not kiss. He does not acknowledge my requests and kisses my mouth hard and long. I push him away and he pushes back even harder. He rips my shirt of and my breast fall with ease. He grabs them hard and tweaks the nipples as hard as he can. My head is thrown back and I gasp for air. He pulls on my nipple rings and my nipples burn with pain and anticipation. He does not focus on one thing very long and soon he is pushing my skirt up with his large hands. Touching my pussy hard, he is invading ever inch of it. He opens the door and pushes me outside. I stand there as he opens his and gets out. He pushes me hard against the brick building and I groan as my head hits. He lifts my legs up and hold me as he rips apart my cunt with his cock. I wonder when he opened his pants as I did not see him do it. He rapes me hard and fucks me for what feels like hours. My cunt is raw, sore and wide open. He bites my nipples as he fucks me. Never looking at me, never seeing if I was okay. Never taking a break to make sure I did not need to use my safe word. Nothing like what our normal scenes are like. He always uses me to his liking but never disregards how I am feeling. This time not a word is said. No conversation, no look. He is treating me just like a whore. Just like those women on the internet. Those in real life. My eyes start to tear as he pounds harder into my cunt. His fingers enter my ass. I moan loud and deep. I am outside myself. My hair is matted to my face, and his. As it devours his face and head. 

"Oh yes fuck me, fuck me. Your cock is so large and so deep." I scream out as he fucks my ass with his fingers. 

He does not look up. Simply moans escape his lips and sweat rolls down his face. He pounds me hard and I hold back from cumming. Not knowing if I am allowed to or not. I hold it back with everything inside of me. He suddenly pulls out fast and almost drops me to the ground. I catch my balance and kneel in front of him. He spews hot, sticky cum all over my face and hair as his head is thrown back. He zips up his pants and gets in the car. Leaving me kneeling on the alley pavement with a cum soaked face. I can not move, even if I wanted to. 

"In ten minutes I want you to start walking home." He says as he starts to drive away. "Oh by the way, you are a good fuck" He says as he throws two 100 dollar bills out of the window.

I am shocked and do not know what to say. I look down and all I have on is part of a tank top with a skirt. My high heel shoes are full of mud, and my face and hair are soaked with cum. I am dumbfounded on what to say, or do. So I simply stand there. When I think enough time has passed by, I start to walk home. Only the street lights light the way. I arrive to a dark house. He only left the dining room light on dim. I glance through and the computer desk is bare. There is nothing adorning it. The computer is gone. I walk into the bedroom and a sleeping bag is covering the floor. He is laying in bed reading a book. He does not glance up from it.

"You will never, ever hide things from me again. You have no privileges as of now cunt. You will have no computer and will not be allowed to watch TV. You will be released quicker then you can imagine. Now strip your clothes off and get your ass to bed."

I take what clothes I have left off, and neatly fold them. I place them in the corner.

"Wash that whore face off too, you look ridiculous." he growls

I wash it off quickly and look at myself in the mirror. Knowing I will never keep anything from him again. I do not need to be a whore, unless I am his whore. 



Hooker



"You are a good looking girl, lots of guys would pay to fuck you."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing; my own father was counseling me to become a hooker.

A little background; my father had started fucking me a while back while we were home alone, my mother worked nights office cleaning.

Dad fucked me almost every night and more often than not he would cum in me. It was only a matter of time before I got knocked up and perhaps he wanted someone else to blame.

Whatever the reason Dad offered to set me up with some guys who would pay to fuck me. Since I was getting fucked for nothing I agreed to be his little whore.

The ironic thing was I had a boyfriend. I had been dating Rob for almost three months but had not let him screw me yet. Sure we necked in his car, I had let him suck my tits and even give him a blowjob one night when we were parked by the river but he had never been in my pussy yet.

Joe Somosi was my first "date". Joe was a fifty-something welder whose wife had left his many years ago. Somosi had his own house, a nice brick bungalow in not a bad part of town. Somosi's house was about a twenty-minute walk from out place. Dad had fucked me just before I left on my first trick.

The place was a disaster; housekeeping was not high on Somosi's list of priorities. The kitchen sink was stacked high with dirty dishes and it looked like he hadn't took the garbage out for a week.

The house lacked the female touch, no knick-knacks, pictures or anything to make the place look like a home.

Somosi was dressed in his work clothes, a dark blue cotton shirt and matching trousers. Both were badly in need of washing and had seen better days.

The hundred dollars Somosi had offered my father to screw his daughter was the only good thing about the situation.

Somosi had invited me in and given me the once over. I knew he liked the looks of me as I had dressed to get his attention, a skimpy tank top with no bra and a very short mini-skirt.

The old guy showed me through to the living room and offered me a beer.

I sat in the chair opposite him and opened my legs so he could see I was wearing no panties. I allowed him to gaze at my bare pussy as he looked in his wallet for the cash.

"Where do you want to do it?" I asked him as he handed me five twenties.

"In my bed." He mumbled as I tucked the money into my small purse.

I followed him into his bedroom. The place was a mess like the rest of the house. Dirty clothes thrown all over and the rumbled unmade bed looked like it hadn't seen clean sheets for weeks. This was the cum stained bed I was going to be fucked in.

"Get undressed." Somosi ordered.

I was bought and paid for; obediently I slipped my top off over my head and stepped out of my short skirt. I stood naked before the old man.

Somosi quickly removed his own clothes. As he pulled off his shorts I saw his raging hard on. He was huge, much bigger than my Dad.

"Suck it you little slut!" he demanded, his cock in his hand pointed in my direction.

I sat on the edge of the bed as he approached me.

Taking the back of my head in one hand he forced his cock into my mouth. Submissively I took his member into my head.

His cock was foul; it tasted of stale urine and semen. My lips sealed around his shaft as my tongue caressed his dick. 

"That's it you little cocksucker, make me cum in your mouth!" he moaned as I begin sucking his meat.

He shot quickly filling my mouth with his salty brine. "Swallow it bitch!" he demanded.

I did as he wanted, letting his foul jism slid down my throat into my belly.

"Now I will fuck with you." Somosi decreed.

Without recovery time the sex-crazed Hungarian pushed me back onto the bed and pushed himself between my open legs, I felt the head of his cock searching through my pubic hair for the entrance to my young pussy. Within moments he found his way into me.

His cock was bigger than I was accustom to and hurt as he callously rammed himself into me. In one impassionate thrust he buried his entire cock in my tight vagina.

"Oww, Please, not so hard!" I pleaded as he begin fucking me as if I were a rubber doll.

My pleas went disregarded as Somosi bounced in and out of me satisfying his pent-up lust. Instinctively my legs wrapped around his as I resolved myself to be ridden like a livery hose.

For his age Somosi was amazingly virile. Having just emptied his first load in my mouth he was able to fuck me much longer than I had hoped. He must have been in me ten minutes in a wild frenzy of pounding me into his squeaking bed mercifulness with his thick cock.

Finally I felt his body stiffen and he emitted a low guttural moan, as I felt more warm cum flooding my womb. Thankfully his weight was taken off me as he withdrew his dripping cock from my cunt. 

Somosi lay exhausted beside me as he regained his strength. I started to get up to get dressed.

"Joe not finished with you yet!" he said reaching over and grabbing my arm.

I dreaded what he was going to want next. Daddy had only used my bum once and I didn't like it.

"On your stomach." Somosi ordered.

Begrudgingly I rolled over on the bed offering my bare bum to my tormenter.

Somosi was no more gentle fucking my ass than he had been entering my pussy. With nothing more than a coating of my pussy juice lubricating his cock he forced his way into my poop chute.

The pain was excruciating, he just forced my face further into the pillow as he complete his journey into my bowels. Finally I felt his ball on my ass cheeks, he was al the way in.

Somosi fucked my ass like a dog would chew an old boot, his cock ripping in and out of my anus without the slightest regard to my suffering. I was glad when he cum, his jism was actually soothing in my sore hole.

I could hardly walk when I left the mad Hungarian's house and headed home to Dad.

"How did it go?" my father asked as I stumbled in the door.

"I just want to have a bath." I answered.

"O.K. It will get easier." He assured me. "Can you lend me fifty bucks?"

Jesus Christ, my father was now my pimp. 



Hooker



The Right Reverend Jimmy John Tanger smiled as he rolled down the passenger side window of his Escalade, and his eyes twinkled beneath the dark shades he wore in even the blackest of nights.

The whore walked over to his car and leaned over to peer in. She was everything he had ever dreamed of and more. Her long, silky scarlet hair spilled over her breasts, but did nothing to diminish his view of those magnificent globes as they struggled to be free of the skimpy auburn leather halter-top that barely contained them. Her eyes were deep dark pools that beckoned a man's soul to be lost within him.

"You lookin' for a date?" she asked him.

"How much?" he asked, cutting directly to the chase.

"Two hundred an hour," she said. "Two grand for the night. But I tell you what, big spender. Times bein' hard and all, one grand for you. And you can do anything you want. Anything. You ain't seen nothing like me. I can do things you never even imagined were possible."

"You sound like my kind of girl," Jimmy John said. "Hop in."

"Show me the money," she said.

Jimmy John showed her.

Danya hopped in.

"My place or yours?" she asked him.

"Oh, definitely my place," Jimmy John told her. "I've got equipment there you wouldn't believe.

Danya looked over at the bed, at the wrist bracelets, ankle bracelets, ropes and pulleys. Not to mention the wheel-like rack over in the corner of the room or the bed of nails by the window.

"Very impressive. Is all this for you or me?" she asked.

"Oh for you, most definitely," the Right Reverend Jimmy John Tanger replied, with a slight chuckle. "Most definitely for you, cher."

"This is gonna cost you a little extra," Danya replied. "Three thousand for the night. Plus I have to warn you. There is a GPS tracker in my purse. And my pimp is a very big and very violent man."

"Whatever you say, darlin"" Jimmy John said. "Whatever you say."

"So show me the money."

Jimmy John pulled out an even bigger wad and showed her the fruits of his parishioners' devotion. "But you have to do everything I tell you to do. Every last thing."

Danya took the wad of bills and dropped it into her purse right next to the first wad.

"Now, I want you stand at attention and don't move."

Danya stood perfectly upright, jutting out her genetically-enhanced breasts and flexing her well-practiced ass muscles.

Jimmy John picked up a riding crop from the desk and began to walk around Danya, tracing the crop over her ass, her firm exposed belly, the cleavage between her large breasts that were bulging out of their auburn leather prison, then up and around her neck and over her face and eyes, stopping when he reached the back of her head.

He unhooked the leather halter, which fell to the ground, freeing Danya's magnificent orbs. Despite herself, Danya's nipples became erect as she thrilled to his complete command of her body.

He pressed his already swollen cock against her leather-clad buttocks as he reached around to caress the sides of her breasts. He found her earlobe beneath her silky red hair and began to lick it as he moved his fingers down to her hard nipples and began to circle them. He moved her hair to the side and ran his tongue down the nape of her neck. He grabbed both breasts with his meaty hands and began to squeeze them as he pressed his swollen cock more firmly against the leather-clad crack of her ass and began to slide it up and down her crack while he squeezed and kneaded her breasts and licked his way down her naked spine.

He reached around to undo her belt, then walked in front of her. "Now strip," he commanded.

Danya kicked off her shoes and peeled the leather trousers from her legs. She then resumed her position of standing at attention, her completely exposed naked body displayed for her master.

Jimmy John Tanger moved closer to her, pressing her nude body against his still suit-clad body. His tongue licked her eyes as he placed his hand on the back of her head and drew her closer to him. She could feel his swollen cock pressing against her now naked mound.

Tanger ran his right hand down her naked belly, coming to rest on her mound. He then rammed two fingers hard up her cunt. Danya gasped involuntarily as the violence of his thrust, but soon her well-practiced cunt relaxed, then closed tightly again around Jimmy John's fingers as they began a pumping motion inside her cunt. She squeezed and released her muscles in time with Jimmy John's thrusts, feeling the excitement of his total domination of her. She felt the pleasure mount as she rode his poking digits, rising to the crescendo of organism before Jimmy John abruptly withdrew his finger from her hot and willing cunt.

"So you like that, do you whore?" Jimmy John said. "Not so fast. You will have to earn your release."

"Take me out," he commanded her.

Danya lowered her hand to his package and felt the spot on his trousers that was already damp with his precum.

She unzipped Jimmy John's suit trousers and pushed them down his leg. She gently cupped his balls with her left hand as her right hand closed around Jimmy John's throbbing and unexpectedly impressive cock. She squeezed his cock more tightly and pumped it slowly, squeezing his balls harder and harder with each thrust.

"Not so fast little lady!" Jimmy John said. "Take me in your mouth.

Danya lowered herself to her knees before Jimmy John and plunged his cock into her mouth. She bobbed on it hard, swallowing all nine inches of his steel-hard rod. She did not even gag as it passed her well-practiced throat. She clenched her mouth against it and slowly withdrew so that its tip fell under the domain of her talented lips. She sucked the hood, running her tongue along its edges, stopping to torture the vee of the underside, before once again plunging it hard down her throat, while her tongue licked it and she squeezed and released his balls in time with her movements.

"My, my, my, little girl" Jimmy John said. "You sure do know your work. But the first time I shoot, it's gonna be up that tight little cooz of yours."

"Now strip me," he commanded.

Danya did as she was told.

"Now lie down on that bed," Jimmy John said.

Danya breathed a sigh of relief. It could have been much worse. It could have been the rack, for instance. Or the bend of nails.

Danya lay down on the bed face up, and let Jimmy John put the leather shackles on her wrists and ankles. He then retrieved a clicker-like device from the top of the dresser and pushed one of its buttons. She could hear some gears moving below the bed and the ropes holding her arms and legs began to tighten. Soon she was spread-eagled, pulled tightly into a human "X," with her arms and legs tightly extended, her joints stretched to the limit.

"You have been a good little whore, so I am going to give you the treatment you crave with that dirty little mind of yours," Jimmy John said.

He crawled on the bed and placed his mouth on Danya's cunt. His tongue ran down her crack, then flicked inside and licked the lining of her cunt before lapping its way up to her clit. Jimmy John began to circle her bud with his tongue, and Danya cried out in a moan of pleasure. He rammed two fingers into her cunt and entered her crack with his other hand, pressing it against her anus. He shoved one finger up her cornhole, while pumping her cunt with his other hand and lapping her clit like a vulture.

Danya screamed out in pleasure as she came violently, her hopelessly stretched legs trembling in the throes of orgasm.

"So you liked that, did you bitch?" Jimmy John said. "Well, you really going to like what comes next. For a while."

He pressed a button on the clicker and the gears started up again. Danya felt her limbs being stretched even more tightly, threatening to be popped right out of their sockets.

Jimmy John licked his way up Dayna's tummy, running his tongue in and out of her bellybutton, then worked his way up her naked torso. His lips found the hardened nipple of her right breast, which he teased with his tongue and nipped with his teeth as Danya cried out in both pleasure and pain. He gave the same treatment to her other breast before climbing up her naked body and thrusting his nine-inch rod deeply up her cunt. He began to fuck her in earnest then, shoving his rock-hard cock violently in and out of her cunt, as his tongue thrust against hers, violating her mouth as much as his cock was violating her nether passage.

Danya cried out in both pleasure and pain as wave after wave of orgasm convulsed her body.

Jimmy John was getting close. He wanted to shoot his seed inside this whore at the very instant the machine pulled her arms and legs clean off her body, leaving her a hopelessly defiled corpse the second he came inside her. Only then would he know the true secret of death. He pressed the clicker once again.

Dayna could feel him getting close. She moved her tongue to his ear as the machine started up once again and her limbs were pulled tighter and tighter. She turned her head as her limbs threatened to snap and inserted her tongue as far as it could go in Jimmy John's ear.

Which was pretty far. Her tongue pierced Jimmy John's eardrum and snaked its way into Jimmy John's predictably undersized brain.

Then she sucked Jimmy John's brain right out of his skull as if it were so much pea soup.

She felt Jimmy John shoot his wad violently up her cunt as his hand slipped off the clicker.

Danya smiled. She hoped it was all that Jimmy John was looking for. Another night, another deeply satisfied client.

Sheriff Buford T. Crawdaddy squinted as he bent over the mutilated corpse of the Reverend Jimmy John Tanger, despite the fact that he was sporting mirror sunglasses with the highest available UV rating and he was indoors. He thought about spitting his chaw into the vacated torso of the Right Reverend, but then he remembered that Special Agent Tim Young of the FBI was standing right behind him. He spit into the paper cup instead. It wouldn't do for the feebs to think that the tsar of law enforcement in all of Hootchikooche Parish was nothing more than another dumb paczki-eatin' cracker pretending to do a real job, even if he was just that. Buford was coming up for reelection next year, so he had to play this one just right.

He rotated his thick red bull neck so that his squinting eyes were pointing at Special Agent Young., not that Young could see them through Crawdaddy's mirror shades. "You say you seen somethin' like this here before?"

Special Agent Young stepped over the yellow crime scene and crouched down next to Crawdaddy. "Yep," he replied.

"What do you think could do somethin' like that? Mebbe some kinna' gator?"

"I seriously considered that," Young replied, "but on closer analysis, somebody would likely have noticed a nine-foot alligator hitching a ride to the fourth floor of a condominium complex in an elevator."

"Yep, I expect yer raight," Buford replied, spitting another wad of tobacco into the paper cup. He turned to look out at the morning light dancing on the glistening waters of Pogo Lake, when another "idea" dawned upon him.

"Well, the way this feller's brain was removed raight outta his skull and all his guts were ripped raight outta his body, mebbe it was one them UFO fellers what's been mutilating the cattle hereabouts lately."

"Look at the restraints," Special Agent Young told the cracker lawman, whose doughnut-enhanced gut seemed ready to break out of those khaki pants at any moment. "Whoever broke out of those restraints must have had superhuman strength. The ankle and wrist bracelets are snapped in half, one of the gears is completely busted, and there are no burn marks on the dearly departed Reverend's wrists. It's not likely that ET is going to tie up himself for genetic testing, is it?"

"No, ah reckon not," Buford admitted sadly. "So you got any idea what could do something like this?"

Special Agent Young smiled. "If I told you, I would have to kill you," he said. And he would too. The Pentagon did not cotton to rumors regarding rogue genetically-enhanced soldiers embarking on killing sprees getting aired in a public forum.

"In view of the fact that the Reverend fired his weapon," Special Agent Young added, pointing to the dried cum on what little was left of Jimmy John's tummy, which sparkled almost as much as the waters of Pogo Lake in the oblique morning light, "I think we may need to check out the local bondage scene."

"Ah reckon yer raight," Sheriff Crawdaddy said, happy to be of some use in this investigation. "Ah reckon yer raight."

It was the fourth time the Lincoln had circled the block. Danya tried to make eye contact with the driver through the tinted windows on the luxury car, but it was not an easy task. The car passed her again.

On the fifth orbit, the car slowed as it neared Danya, and Danya walked over to the window. The driver rolled the window down, and Danya was surprised to find a woman at the helm. This could be real trouble.

The woman looked at Danya nervously. She must have been in her late forties or early fifties, but her appearance was very well maintained, with frosted blond hair and a firm body, no doubt earned through many hours of exercise at the spa.

"Hi," she said in a tremulous voice. "I was wondering if you do women."

Danya leaned over the car window to reply and to give the woman a better view of her ample boobs. "Sure, honey," she said. "If you've got the money, I've got the time."

She showed her the money, and Danya climbed in beside her.

Special Agent Young was cruising the night, looking for a prostitute that might be the killer. He was concentrating on redheads, based on the crime scene evidence, especially those with long silky hair. In the rearview mirror, he saw one such person of interest get into a Lincoln. But there was even a better candidate one block ahead of him.

He let the Lincoln go.

The woman, whose name was Sharon, didn't talk much on the way to the motel. Once they got inside the room, Danya placed Sharon on the foot of the bed. Tears were streaming from her eyes, and she said, "It has been so long since someone has touched me. My husband is emotionally dead. I have nothing left."

"Shh," said Danya, gently stroking Sharon's faux blond hair. "Shh, Mommy's gonna make it all better."

Sharon managed a half smile, then rested her head on Danya's shoulder while Danya continued to stroke her hair. The fingers of her left hand found the buttons on Sharon's blouse and began undoing them. Soon the blouse was off, and Danya undid the hook of her bra, which she let fall on the floor. Danya reached across Sharon to caress her right breast, squeezing it and tracing her fingers around Sharon's nipple, which soon became erect.

She undid Sharon's belt and began unbuttoning her pants. "Stand," she told her, and she pulled Sharon's pants to the floor. She finished stripping Sharon and then knelt before her, her arms wrapped around Sharon's now naked legs. She began licking and kissing her way up Sharon's thighs, stopping when she reached her cunt, which she began to probe and lick with her tongue, grasping Sharon's ass cheeks with both hands as she pulled her mound more tightly against her eager mouth. Her hands found Sharon's crack, and she stroked Sharon's cornhole as she began to eat her clit with complete abandon.

She then stood, presenting her taut body to Sharon. "Now you have to strip me," she said.

"I have never done this with a woman," Sharon whispered, as she reached around to unhook Danya's halter.

"I know," Danya said, kissing the top of her head.

Sharon sucked each of Danya's boobs, tugging on the nipples and sending intense waves of pleasure up and down Danya's body. She then bent to tug Danya's leather pants down to her ankles. Danya stepped out of them, and Sharon pulled off Danya's panties as well. Soon her mouth found Danya's mound, and she began lick Danya's cunt and clit with a hunger born of many years.

Danya felt her legs shake, as Sharon continued to fuck her cunt with her mouth and tongue. She cried out in ecstasy, as she came in a wave of orgasm that flooded her entire body and soul. She held Sharon's head tightly against her crotch in the final throes, then stooped to kiss the top of her head.

"This party's for you, not for me," she said. "Come sit here next to me on the bed."

Sharon stood up and sat next to Danya. Danya reached out to run her fingers through Sharon's well-coiffed hair. She reached over to brush away the tear that was streaming down Sharon's cheek.

"Shh, Mommy's here," she whispered, as she drew Sharon close to her and kissed the side of her head. "Just lie back and let me do all the work."

She gently lowered Sharon's nude body onto the bed and climbed on top of her. Her naked body was tightly pressed against Sharon's, her breasts covering Sharon's breasts, her mound resting against Sharon's mound. Danya began to kiss her forehead and her eyes. She kissed her way down to Sharon's mouth, which opened to receive Danya's tongue. Danya ran her genetically enhanced tongue along the inner linings of Sharon's cheeks, along the ridges of her teeth, then thrust it hard and rapidly over Sharon's own tongue, giving her a preview of the treats in store for her.

She then licked her way down Sharon's neck and down to her magnificent surgically-maintained boobs. She closed her teeth on Sharon's right nipple, which she teased with her tongue as she pulled Sharon's breast up and down and sideways. Sharon cried out in both pleasure and pain. She reached up to Dayna's shoulder, but Danya shook her away and began to give Sharon's left breast the same treatment. Sharon cried out again, and Dayna worked her breast like a great white shark.

Dayna finally released the nipple and began to kiss her way down Sharon's tummy, softly licking Sharon's clit once she had reached her mound. She took that little bud in her mouth and gave it the same treatment as Sharon's breasts. Sharon moaned out in pain and pleasure as she reached down with both hands to stroke Dayna's silky scarlet hair and to press her head more firmly against her mound.

Danya moved her head lower until her mouth was French-kissing Sharon's gash. She extended her tongue to its maximum length, which was well into Sharon's womb. Sharon let our a little gasp of surprise, but continued to press Danya's head tightly against her mound.

Danya thickened her tongue and formed it into a corkscrew shape and began to move it slowly in and out of Sharon's cunt. She put her arms under Sharon's legs, which she placed on her shoulders so that she could slide her head up and down Sharon's wet slit as she continued to lap Sharon's cunt like demon-possessed nun. Her face was soaking wet as she extended her second tongue into Sharon's ass. Sharon gasped in surprise as Danya's nether tongue snaked its way up into her asshole. She reached down to stroke Danya's hair as Danya thickened the tongue in Sharon's ass and continued to pump the first tongue in and out of Sharon's cunt at a furious pace.

The walls of Sharon's cunt began to contract as she grasped Danya's head even more tightly. Her body convulsed as she came in a torrent of fluids, which Danya lapped eagerly into her throat.

They lay that way for a few minutes, basking in the afterglow.

Then Danya heard Sharon crying. Danya climbed onto her body and lay down on top of her, stroking her hair. "Shh, everything's going to be all right," she lied as she whispered in her ear.

Sharon's emptiness was palpable. Danya didn't want to do this, but the Hunger was growing stronger and stronger, and she could no longer control it. She lowered her lips to Sharon's earlobe, then flicked out her tongue and drank Sharon's brain.

This tortured woman would now be at peace.





Hooker



She quickly opened Sharon's chest to drink her viscera.

Danya's next client stood at attention, naked before her. At least this one had a nice, beautiful muscular body.

"Ok, worm, first I'm going to have a little fun with you, then I might let you come. Or I might just keep you chained here to serve me for a while," the scarlet-haired dominatrix told Special Agent Tim Young, still playing his role by complying with her every instruction. He couldn't afford to have his cover blown, not when he was getting this close. He still wasn't sure that she was the one.

"Lie down on the bed, face down," she told him.

Tim lay down on the bed, and extended his arms straight out to the cleats on the bedposts. She grabbed the chains on both wrists and shackled him to the bedposts. She did the same with each leg.

She bent down to lick his earlobe and whispered in his ear, "Would you like Mistress to be naked, to feel her naked flesh against your back as she uses you like a dog?"

Tim nodded. "Please, Mistress."

Danya took off her hat and peeled the leather tunic from her torso. She shook her double D boobs as they came free. "Do you like these, worm? Do you want to feel them on your back as I fuck your ass?"

Tim nodded, with some actual enthusiasm this time.

Danya shook off her boots and peeled the leather pants off her taut, shapely legs. She ran her fingers over her mound. A natural redhead all the way, Tim thought.

"Do you like this, worm? Do you think you can serve it the way Mistress needs you to?"

Hopelessly exposed and vulnerable, Tim nodded his head in assent.

Danya slapped him in the face. "That's for your arrogance in thinking you already know how to serve your Mistress. You must be trained like all the others," she said as she walked around to the foot of the bed.

"First of all you must learn control. I'm going to test you now to see how strong your will to serve Mistress is. If you come, you weakly little worm, things will go badly for you. Mistress will have to punish you severely. Do you understand?"

Tim nodded as she bent down to place her tongue in the crack of his ass. She began to lick up and down his crack and began to massage his balls with her right hand. He felt her soft red hair lying on his naked ass and her perfect breasts pressed against the back of his thighs. She moved her hand higher and traced circles on his naked back with her long red, sharpened fingernails.

Her tongue began to probe his ass tentatively at first, but then plunging deeper and deeper and faster and faster. It thickened as Tim's ass widened.

It was when he felt the lower tongue come out to lick his balls that he knew he was in deep trouble. There could be no doubt who she was now.

The second tongue spiraled around his balls and began to wrap itself around his hardened cock. No man, not even Tim, could resist the charms of a female eroticant.

Her helical nether tongue grew to an impossible length as it wrapped itself around Tim's shaft. Its grip on his cock tightened, and it began to slide up and down Tim's throbbing cock while the lower portion of the tongue squeezed and released Tim's balls in perfect time with each movement. Soon the tongue up his ass joined the symphony, and the pain and pleasure became so great that Tim knew he could hold out no longer. He shot what seemed to a lifetime supply of jism all over the bed sheet.

"Now look what, you've done, you weak-willed little worm. Now Mistress must punish you very severely."

Her naked body rose off Tim and went over to the dresser where it grabbed a conveniently waiting bottle of chloroform and poured half its contents onto one of her camisoles. She returned to smother Tim's face.

When he woke, Tim found himself turned over, his naked body still stretched in an "X" position, but this time face up.

Danya sat astride his chest, her wet cunt pressed tightly against him. She traced a feather over his forehead, then down his cheek and neck.

"I know what you are," she told him. "I know what you can do. You can take away the Pain, at least for a few moments. Please me, and maybe I will keep you alive for my amusement, at least for a little while."

She slid up his chest, grabbed his head and buried his nose and mouth in her soaking cunt. "Please me if you want to live," she whispered.

There was no point in keeping up the pretense any longer. Special Agent Young unleashed all three of his tongues. He began to caress her clit softly with his upper tongue, while he slowly inserted his middle tongue in her cunt. His nether tongue then snaked its way up the crack of her ass to tantalize her asshole. He ran the nether tongue around that orifice's rim, while his main tongue began to grow longer as it pounded its way up the pulsating walls of her eroticant cunt. Those walls gripped his tongue, massaging it and squeezing it as only an eroticant's cunt could. Tim's middle tongue grew impossibly long and thick, threatening to tear Danya wide open with the violence of its thrusts. His upper tongue worked her clit harder and harder, and his nether tongue began to probe her ass more and more deeply as she rode him, bucking up and down on his face with wild abandon. She held his head tightly in both hands and ground his nose against her cunt as she came, not one but three times, soaking Tim's face with her hot juices.

Pausing just enough to catch her breath, she slid her moist, throbbing cunt down Tim's chest. He was still steel-hard erect, an inevitable response to the pheromones emitted by a female eroticant in heat.

She turned around and impaled her still-pulsating cunt on his shaft. She reached down to grab his balls as she began to ride him. Tim's cock grew to a length unknown to human men and thickened, stretching Danya's walls to the maximum extent. Those walls begin to milk him in a pulsating rhythm, drawing his cock up and down inside her at a faster and faster rate.

Her hands began to squeeze his balls more tightly as she began to buck faster and faster on his shaft. Soon the pace grew impossibly fast, and then she thrust herself deeply upon him and squeezed his balls cruelly as he emptied them into her hungry, willing cunt, while Dayna's body convulsed and then stiffened in orgasm. She cried out in the most intense pleasure of her life.

When she was spent, she sat with him inside her for a while. Then she turned around and crawled back up his muscular chest. She lowered her face to his, her still erect nipples brushing softly against his skin as her silky hair fell over his chest. She brought her mouth to his, pressing her breasts hard against him as their tongues intertwined.

They could each kill the other now, Tim thought. Right through the roof of the mouth.

Danya withdrew and began to softly trace the curves of his ear with her tongue.

"Help me," she whispered, and slowly turned her head to the side and offered him her ear. Tim traced his tongue around the contours of her ear and then positioned it for what needed to be done.

Just as he began to withdraw Danya's liquefied brain from her skull, she whispered two last words.

"Thank you."

Tim tried to ingest just enough of her brain to kill her. He knew where too much feeding would lead. However, her now mindless body began to convulse, and Tim knew he would have to take out the brainstem to stop her breathing and other vital functions. He drank far more than he wanted to.

Then, lying next to Danya's perfect body, he could feel it coming.

The Hunger.



Hooker



Sandra was young and ambitious. She didn't mind working hard to get what she wanted, and she had managed to put together a nice bank account. She might still be eighteen and studying, but she had things planned.

She had a reasonable part time job working at the local butchers on the weekends, which paid way better than a fast food joint, and she was available for baby-sitting work. A number of girls at the school had set up a little network so mothers could always be confident of getting one of them.

This afternoon Sandra had a new sitting job. A young couple had recently moved into the area, and the mother had been put onto the baby-sitting ring. It was Sandra's turn and she was available. She'd explained their rules and rates and these had been accepted, so she was heading there now.

Entering the units, Sandra checked the specific number on her note and cursed quietly. She'd been in a hurry when she'd scribbled the address down, and for the life of her she could tell if she'd written a bad two or a bad three. She shrugged. So it was either twelve or thirteen, she'd knock on one and if it was wrong the other was right next to it anyway.

Problem solved. She marched confidently up to apartment twelve and knocked. A few moments later a half dressed man answered the door. As soon as he saw he swung open the door.

"Come on, quickly," he snapped. "You're awfully late. I have to be out of here for a meeting soon, but I still have time for you."

"Late?" thought Sandra indignantly. "I'm fifteen minutes early. Late, indeed." Politeness made her refrain from correcting her customer.

She entered the hall and closed the door behind her. Things immediately went all to hell.

"When I requested someone in a school costume, I envisaged a tartish version of one," the man told her. "That one actually looks real."

Before Sandra could comment on this strange remark the man had hold of her and was expertly kissing her. She tried to protest, but his mouth covered hers quite savagely, taking what he wanted from it. 

Suddenly frantic, Sandra started to struggle, only to be stunned again when the man drew his head back and laughed. 

"You do that well," he complimented her, before resuming his assault.

Sandra found her back was pressing against the wall as her supposed customer pressed hard against her. Still trying to struggle, Sandra gave a muffled shriek as she felt her panties descending. Hammering on his back made no difference. She could feel him entering her. God, he felt huge.

Thankful that she was no longer a virgin, Sandra felt this swine's cock eagerly ascending. She didn't think she could have borne it if she'd lost her virginity to a lout like this. What was happening was bad enough.

The assault on her mouth didn't stop, even while the assault on her pussy developed. Sandra could feel him withdrawing and tried to pull away, knowing what was coming next. It came. With another muffled scream Sandra felt that damned cock charging back into her.

Totally ignoring her attempts to struggle and yell, her assailant thrust forcefully into her, quickly building up a rhythm that Sandra found herself reacting to, even though it was against her wishes.

Sandra settled back to wait for the man to finish, feeling her hips thrusting energetically against him as he ravished her. She was startled when he suddenly reached down and seized the cheeks of her bottom, lifting her and holding her tight against him, his hips thrusting into her non-stop.

Moving swiftly, the man carried her through to the front room, where he set her back on her feet and then as suddenly as he'd entered her, he withdrew.

Sandra was in two minds by that stage. Or rather, her mind and her body were at odds with each other. Her mind was saying "thank god that's over", but she was annoyed to find her body saying "hey wait. I haven't finished".

She quickly found out that any relief her mind might have felt was short lived. She was spun round and bent over the end of the couch. To her shock she saw that the hiatus had been so that the man could don a condom, and now he was behind her and his cock was resuming its interrupted duties.

Sandra found that she was at least able to shriek her protest now, totally ignored though it might be. And she could swear that damn cock was growing in size as he pounded it into her.

Her hips were again moving to his beat, and in sheer frustration she gave a little twist to them as he drove in. She was startled to hear a groan, and curious, she gave the same little twist with the next thrust. She was rewarded with a curse, and at the same time felt some interesting sensation running through her own body.

Sandra discovered that she had a little vindictive streak in her make-up. She started adding those little twists at erratic intervals, relishing the feeling of power it gave her when she was rewarded with oaths and groans, as well as liking the thrills that ran through her body.

A climax was coming on, Sandra knew, probably for both of them. "Well," she thought, "if I have to put up with this I'm going to have my climax."

She started twisting almost constantly as she was being mercilessly drilled, feeling her excitements levels rising rapidly. Then she was squealing as her climax hit her and she lay bent over, shuddering as it swept through her.

Slowly she came to realise that she was no longer being assaulted. The man had pulled away and was talking to her.

"Glad you could come, even if you were late," he was saying. "Your payment's in the envelope on the coffee table. Now I hate to rush you out the door so fast, but I've got a meeting to go to."

Sandra stood, straightening her clothes, feeling strangely calm. On the coffee table was and envelope, which she picked up. Then she was being hustled out the door, which was promptly closed behind her. She glanced in the envelope and her eyes widened. At least five hundred dollars, was her guess.

Just then the door to apartment thirteen popped open, and a harried looking woman popped out. 

"Sandra?" she asked, spotting her. 

"Thank god. You're right on time. I was just looking out to see if you were coming. Come on and I'll introduce you to the kids."

Sandra nodded to herself. "Not number twelve. Number thirteen." She followed the woman inside, tucking her hard-earned envelope away.

Glancing back as she entered the apartment, Sandra saw a young woman coming up the stairs. She paused for a second, watching her, then continued in, closing the door behind her. She heard a bell faintly ringing. She just wished she could hear the conversation that was going to shortly take place next door.



Hooker



After finishing my second tour of her body, I touched her and she nearly leapt off the bed. It was time. I mounted her. Rachel didn’t make a lot of noise, but she struggled and thrashed mightily. When finally she subsided, I rolled off and untied her.

“Worth the wait?” I inquired.

“Yes,” was all she said, still somewhat out of breath.

In the morning, I removed Rachel’s stockings and led her into the shower.

“Aren’t you going to take this collar off?”

“No, you’ll wear it the entire time you’re here.”

“But, it’ll get wet.”

“If it gets wet, it gets wet.”

After our shower, I dried Rachel off and gave her another towel for her hair, then went down to the living room to retrieve her underwear.

“So, what are we doing today?” she wanted to know.

“First, you’re going to fix us breakfast, then we’re going to your house for some fresh clothes, then we’re going out to lunch. After lunch, we’ll wander around a bit, then return here where you’ll await my pleasure.”

“And what does that mean?”

“It means you’ll have to wait to find out.”

“I think I’ll risk it.” By this time she had her panties and stockings back on and started on her bra.

“Hold it,” I told her, “don’t put on anything else. I want you to prepare and serve breakfast as you are.”

“What about shoes?”

“You can wear shoes if you wish.”

“But...alright.”

I could tell Rachel wasn’t thrilled with this idea, but she went along with it anyway. This was what I wanted. There was no point to her obedience if I only asked her to do things she liked.

I sat at the small table in the breakfast nook and Rachel served me pancakes and eggs. She went back to the kitchen and returned with her own plate, then turned to go and get a chair, since I was occupying the only one at the table.

“Wait,” I told her. I got up and pulled her to me, kissed her, then turned her about and pulled her arms behind her and bound her wrists with a length of rope.

“How am I supposed to eat?”

“I’m going to feed you. Now, kneel right here.”

Rachel knelt next to me where I indicated and I fed her, bite by bite. She was even less thrilled with this turn of events, but again did as I required.

After breakfast, I sent her up to get dressed, then we headed for her house. “Aren’t you going to take this collar off before we go out?”

“No. I told you you would wear it all weekend. The only way it gets removed early is if you tell me you want to leave.”

“But what if someone sees me in it?”

“If it gets wet, it gets wet.”

“Huh...oh.”

I was a bit worried that she might decide to leave. The overall package seemed agreeable and she liked that I had the day all planned, but there were all these prickles that rendered the package thornier than she had anticipated. Once again, she chose to go along.

When we got to her house, she changed into some fresh clothes, then I helped her pick out some things for tonight and tomorrow. She was a bit understocked on intimate apparel, but that was something that could be rectified once we determined if this relationship was going anywhere. She packed the stuff into a small overnight bag and we left. As we got in my car, I noticed a woman sitting in a car across the street. I had the same reflexes as everyone else in the neighborhood and usually paid attention to who was hanging around. Since it was a woman, I didn’t consider her a threat. She seemed attractive. If I hadn’t been with someone, I’d have given her a second glance. I think Rachel was embarrassed about her collar and kept her eyes down, so she didn’t notice.

We had lunch at a restaurant north of the river. I chose the location because it was a neighborhood neither of us frequented. Although I’d chosen to take Rachel out in public in her collar, I didn’t want to encounter anyone either of us knew.

Rachel wore her hair down, so the collar was only visible from the front and she kept her head down so that hardly anyone noticed it. The waitress noticed, however. She gaped openly and Rachel turned red in embarrassment. Her name was Jacqui and it seemed to me that Jacqui came by to fill the water glasses rather more often than necessary. Each time she did, she stared at Rachel’s collar again and Rachel turned red again. I paused to wonder why it was that I found Rachel’s embarrassment such a turn on. I had no answer, but there was no doubt how it affected me. When it came time to leave, I was going to have to be careful that I didn’t embarrass myself when I stood up.

I left Jacqui an extra large tip in appreciation for the extra entertainment she had provided. I also wanted Jacqui to remember me, although I had a feeling she would remember me just fine without the additional reminder. Such people occasionally came in handy.

As we walked back out to the car, I suggested we check out some of the small art galleries that were popping up in the old industrial districts. This would be something that was interesting to both of us and also a place where Rachel’s collar would attract minimal attention.

“I think we need to go back to your house.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I need to fix your little problem.”

Is it that obvious?”

“Quite.”

Once inside the house, I tied Rachel’s hands behind her and carried her upstairs. I got us undressed, tossed her on the bed and landed on top of her. This was exactly the sort of quickie I had objected to last night, but everything has it’s place. It wasn’t like there hadn’t been some buildup to our current condition. I noted that Rachel’s embarrassment at the restaurant had had the same effect on her that it had had on me. I found her reaction to it even more curious than my own.

I untied Rachel and we drifted off to sleep.

I awoke and looked at the clock. It was going on six PM. We had slept most of the afternoon. It was just as well. Rachel was in for a long night.

I showered and dressed, then woke Rachel and told her it was time to dress for dinner. While she was getting ready, I called to check on the dinner. I had made arrangements for it to be delivered about seven. The restaurant assured me everything was on schedule.

I told Rachel that dinner was a surprise and that after she was dressed, she was to remain in the bedroom until I came for her. I went downstairs and threw a tablecloth on the dining room table, then set two places. I set out the wine and the dishes we would need, then sat down to wait. I had been sitting less than a minute when the doorbell rang. The delivery guy helped me get the stuff on the table, then I tipped him and sent him on. It looked delicious.

I returned upstairs for Rachel.

Rachel was looking delicious in her own rite. She had had one rather elegant gown in her wardrobe which I had insisted she bring along to wear for dinner. She wore black evening shoes with ankle straps and her collar substituted very nicely for a necklace. She had her hair up with a strand of faux (I assumed) pearls woven in and matching pearl earrings. I had wanted her to wear gloves, but she didn’t own any. She wasn’t to wear any other jewelry, since I had some accessories of my own with which she would be adorned.

I pulled her to me and kissed her, then sat her down and locked black leather cuffs on her wrists and ankles.

“What are those for?”

“You’ll find them more comfortable than rope or handcuffs.”

“Oh.”

I took Rachel’s hand and she stood. Pulling her arms behind her, I locked her wrist cuffs together, then knelt and joined her ankle cuffs by a little over a foot of chain. “One more thing,” I told her and snapped the end of a black leather leash onto her collar, then led her off to dinner.

I suppose it probably helps if you share my tastes, but the sight of Rachel descending the grand staircase in her gown, collared and leashed, her hands bound behind her, is one of the erotic images I will carry to my grave. I wish I had had the forethought to have my camera ready, although I suppose Rachel herself wouldn’t be thrilled about having her picture taken in this condition.

The candles lit the dining room softly as I removed Rachel’s leash and unlocked her wrists, locking them again in front. I seated her at the table and served her supper and poured her wine.

Rachel was having shrimp while I was having prime rib. I watched her as she ate with her wrists locked only a couple of inches apart. She picked up her glass and held it in both hands as she sipped her wine, gazing at me over the top of it with a look that seemed to combine both need and mild reproach. It drove me wild.

We spoke very little over dinner. I think Rachel was contemplating both her current condition and whatever was to come next. I was doing exactly the same thing.

“Are we having dessert?” Rachel asked as we neared the end of the meal.

“Yes, we are. You’re going to have dessert on your knees.” 

“Not again.”

Rachel thought it was going to be a repeat of the way I’d fed her breakfast, but that wasn’t quite what I had in mind. For my part, I hadn’t planned to move things along quite this quickly, but I was in even worse shape than I’d been at lunch and Rachel was going to have to do something about it.

I got up and helped Rachel out of her seat, then drew my chair toward her. “Kneel,” I told her and gently pressed down on her shoulders. I sat down in front of her and unzipped my fly.

“Bob, I’ve never done this before.”

“Then it’s time you learned. We can’t have you going out on the streets as unskilled labor, especially if you intend charging a thousand dollars.”

“Pimp.”

I took Rachel’s head in my hands and guided her mouth to my cock. Once I was in her mouth, she went to work without hesitation and I wasn’t sure I believed her claim of innocence.

It reminded me of another dessert I had had in this house, although this experience was very different from that other one. That one made me think of an overly rich chocolate mousse, whereas Rachel was more of a peaches and cream type.

I locked Rachel’s hands behind her again and led her out into the main hall. “Wait here,” I told her, “and don’t speak again until I say it’s okay.” I went upstairs and pocketed a gag and a few other items I thought would come in handy. When I returned, Rachel was standing as I had left her.

Just as I returned to Rachel, a loud beeping noise came from the back hall.

“What’s that?” Rachel wanted to know.

“It’s the motion detector on the front porch.”

“You mean somebody’s out there?”

She was terrified that someone would see her bound and leashed. “It’s probably not anybody. The wind sometimes sets it off,” I told her, but there was no wind tonight. “I’ll go check. You stay put.”

I went to the front door, opened it and stuck my head out. I didn’t see anyone, but I did see a car about half way down the block I didn’t recognize. It might have just been someone visiting the neighbors, but the car reminded me of the one I’d seen across from Rachel’s house in the morning.

I closed the door and bumped into Rachel as I turned.

“Ow!” she said as I stepped on her foot.

“Rachel, didn’t I tell you to stay put? I almost knocked you down.”

“Who’s out there?” she wanted to know.

“I didn’t see anyone, but if it will make you happy, I’ll go out and check, but first I’m going to put you someplace so I know where you are.” I seized her leash and led her to the door of the hall closet. “Inside,” I told her, “kneel”.

Rachel knelt and I tied her leash around the doorknob so that there wasn’t enough slack for her to stand, then closed the door. She would now stay put until I returned.

I grabbed my flashlight and cordless phone and went out on the porch. I punched 911 on the keypad, so that all I would have to do would be to punch ‘talk’ to connect. I walked around the house, flashing the light around. If what I thought was going on was indeed going on, that should be sufficient to scare her off. When I got back around to the front door, I went in again.

I returned to Rachel, unwound her leash, and let her out of the closet.

“Did you see anyone?”

“No, I didn’t. And now we need to deal with your transgressions.”

“Like...what?”

I was pleased by the note of apprehension in her voice. “Didn’t I tell you not to speak?”

“Yes.”

“And didn’t I tell you to stay put?”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t do either, did you?”

“So...what are you going to do, punish me or something?”

“Yes, I am.”

“How?”

“I’m going to make you draw an envelope.”

“Draw?”

“Select. You’ll see in a minute, but first I’m going to gag you so we won’t have to worry about talking without permission.”

“But...”

“Rachel, further talking is not the way to convince me not to gag you.” Rachel hesitated a moment as I held the gag to her lips, then accepted the gag.

“Wait here, and this time, don’t move.” I went upstairs and retrieved a shoe box I’d prepared in anticipation of tonight. While I was there, I looked out the second floor window. The car I had seen earlier was gone. I went back downstairs.

I set the shoe box on the side table and unlocked Rachel’s hands from behind her. I locked them together in front, then held out the shoe box. It contained about three dozen envelopes.

“Choose an envelope,” I told her.

Rachel hesitantly pulled an envelope from the middle of the pack.

“Open it and read the card inside, then hand it to me.” She did so. I looked at the card.

Stand in the Corner

You will stand with your nose pressed

against the wall for one hour.

I was glad she had drawn this card, since I’d been wanting to try this out. I had gotten the idea from a drawing I had once seen. It pictured a woman standing with her nose against the wall and her hands tied behind her. She was holding a sheet of paper against the wall with her nose, and a wooden dowel was balanced across two bottles in front of her ankles, so that she couldn’t move her feet closer to the wall without knocking it off. Something was written on the paper, but I no longer knew what.

I did know what Rachel was going to be holding against the wall. I selected another envelope from the box and then went to the kitchen and returned with two beer bottles and a dowel. I set the bottles about a foot and a half out from the wall and balanced the dowel across the top of them, then led Rachel over to stand in front of the dowel. I locked her wrists behind her again.

I held the envelope up to the wall and told her, “Rachel, for the next hour, you are to hold this envelope against the wall with your nose. If either the envelope or the dowel fall, we open the envelope.”

I put my hand against the back of her head, and Rachel leaned forward and pinned the envelope with her nose. I held it low enough that she couldn’t use her forehead to hold it. I let go of the envelope and it remained in place. I lit a candle and turned out the hall lights, then went up and sat on the landing to watch Rachel’s ordeal. I had a good view, looking down at her from half way up the stairs. Since I was behind her, she couldn’t see me.

Rachel remained motionless for nearly five minutes, then she began shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She had her forehead against the wall and was using it to support the weight of her upper body leaning forward, but since she had to keep her nose pressed against the wall, she was unable to support the weight with the top of her forehead as she wished.

After ten minutes, she was squirming around quite a bit, trying to find relief from the strain her position imposed on her body. She tried spreading her feet wider, to the length of her ankle chain, but to do that, she had to back even farther away from the wall to avoid knocking over the bottles. This put even more strain on her forehead and she returned to her original position. Next she tried lifting one foot, then the other. It was while she was doing this that she knocked the dowel off the bottles. I could hear her squeak of alarm through the gag as her shoe bumped one of the bottles. She tried to look down to see if the dowel had fallen, and in doing so lost the envelope.

Rachel wasn’t exactly sure what to do at this point. She looked about in confusion, then after a moment, returned her nose to the wall. I left her there another few minutes, then returned to her side. She started to straighten up, but I told her to remain as she was.

After picking up the envelope, I told Rachel to stand up straight, then snapped the leash onto her collar and led her over to the side table where the candle was. I opened the envelope and withdrew the card, laying it on the table next to the candle.

Spanking

You are to be securely bound and soundly spanked. 

Rachel read the card and began making noises through her gag which were, of course, unintelligible. I shushed her and told her that shortly she would have both opportunity and reason to complain, but for now I required her silence. She complied. I could tell she wanted to say something, but, being gagged, there was not much point trying.

I led Rachel upstairs and got her undressed and tied down without any major resistance on her part. I had tied her in my favorite spanking position--face down with her wrists locked behind her and her ankles bound to the footboard a couple of feet apart, feet hanging over.

She shivered as I ran my fingers up the back of her thigh. I removed her gag.

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because I can, because I want to, because it turns me on, because it turns you on.”

“So how do you get the idea I’m turned on by being spanked?”

“Because you’re here. You’d rather be here getting spanked than be home alone.”

“You think that because I haven’t left that I want to be spanked?”

“That’s not what I said. You don’t want to be spanked, but given a choice between a spanking and being alone, you’ll take the spanking.”

“Oh...” What I had said was true, but Rachel was embarrassed to have what she considered her weakness exposed like this.

“Besides,” I continued, running my hand up her leg, “it’s not like it doesn’t excite you.”

“So, you think I’m turned on by being beaten?”

“Of course not. It frightens you. You don’t want me to spank you. What excites you is that I’m going to do it anyway.”

“Just...just don’t spank me too hard, okay?”

“I won’t spank you harder than you can stand, but I’m going to spank you harder than you would like.”

I picked up the ruler that was laying on the night stand and began. I started on her butt and worked my way down her thighs and back again. By this time, Rachel was moaning, thrashing from side to side, and begging me to stop. I ran my finger up the inside of her thigh to see if it was time to stop. It was.

After untying her ankles, I flipped Rachel onto her back and fucked her. She gasped and wrapped her legs around me. She was one of the least vocal women I’d ever had sex with.

“You’ve never been spanked before, have you?”

“No.”

“It makes you angry, doesn’t it?” I asked.

“Well...”

“It makes you angry that being spanked excites you.”

“Yes...Well, not really angry so much as embarrassed, but...I guess it does make me a little angry, too, only I’m not angry with you, I’m angry with myself for being turned on by it.”

“I told you, it’s not the spanking that turns you on. What excites you is being spanked despite your wishes.”

“That’s worse.”

“Perhaps, but you’re still here.”

“I’m tied up.”

The next morning, after we showered, we got dressed. This time, I fixed breakfast. Rachel sat at the table, and after I served her food, I unlocked her wrists so she could eat. Gretchen was due home in the early afternoon, so I would have to take Rachel home soon.

“I can’t believe I’ve done this,” Rachel said.

“And what have you done?”

“I just spent the weekend as a sex slave.”

“Yes, you did.”

After breakfast, I took Rachel home. I made her wear her collar home and removed it in her living room.