3 comments/ 22436 views/ 10 favorites An Extra Session By: Vioan This story is about Viona, the cat-girl I always write about. It's related to the other stories, but you don't need to read them in order to understand this story. This story contains several topics that might be offensive to you as a reader. If you dislike lesbian sex, incest, straight sex, romance, mature, prostitution or exhibitionism, this story is probably not for you. Furthermore, this story contains scenes where characters are very reluctant during sex. Although it does not involve rape, it can be offensive to sensitive readers. There is also a lot of story development and although there are several sex scenes, this story won't help you if you're looking for something to get you off quickly. An important note: Viona, the main character in this story, is a Nekomimi; a human with a few catlike features. This story does not revolve around these characteristics, though. If you have never read stories about so called "furries" before, maybe this one will be able to ease you into liking them. Moreover, apart from Viona and her sister, all characters in this story are normal humans. A note of thanks to The Lady (at F-list) and Darkniciad for their knowledge and insights. --- "It's Viona. We're having a session today, remember?" "Right, yes. Come in." Click. I stood there, in nothing but a dress and a coat, watching as the gates to Joe's castle-like house opened. Instead of just coming out to greet me, he always answered the doorbell with his fancy intercom system. Even if he were expecting nobody but me. Pretentious bastard. I walked in, and shuddered at the sight of his way too big house with his way too big garden and the way too big fences and gates protecting him from the rest of the world. The pavement to his front door felt cold to my feet, and the October breeze made my legs shiver, but Joe insisted that I would never wear any tight fitting clothes, to avoid getting lines all over my body that show for hours. Although I understood that required me to not wear any underwear, I thought that it was silly to forbid pants, tank tops and the like. But then again, he was the artist, I was the model. He was the one paying me. My employer. I had to respect his wishes. I knew that this was the best job I could possibly get, and I had to do everything to keep it. By the time I reached his front door, he was there to open it, and stepped aside to let me in. I got a greeting in form of a nod, and other than a quick "Hi," I gave him nothing in return. He gestured towards the door to the changing room, and he must have sensed that I was in a bad mood, because he didn't ask how I was doing. Even the changing room radiated wealth. It was large, making me guess that he sometimes had groups of models over all at once. The wooden benches felt smooth to the touch and had a very comfortably quality to them despite their hard material. During my breaks, they were perfect to sit down on and relax for a while. The wonderfully soft satin bath robes hanging by the wall came in all sizes and forms; no model of any shape would ever be unable to find a robe that fit her. The dark purple one I had claimed as my own had a fantastic look to it, and it seemed to sparkle and glow a bit when reflecting the light coming from the chandelier. That's right: a chandelier. In the dressing room, of all places. It was as if he wanted his models to be reminded of his fortune at all times, even when they were on their own. I didn't take long to get undressed. When all you are wearing is a coat and a dress, you can be naked in a few seconds if needed. I wasn't going to break the world record, but I tried to hurry. I had to wash my feet, after all. You might wonder why, and I think this is best explained by describing they way I look. I'm a short girl, measuring 5'4" and weighing 112 pounds. Despite my tiny frame, I'm able to turn many heads when I'm walking down the street. I tend to be quite happy about subtly displaying my 33C-25-34 figure, and even though people seem to love my breasts, the main thing that makes them stare and wonder, is my hair. Its natural color is brown, but I've been dying it cotton candy pink for several years. It has become my trademark feature, and nobody ever fails to notice me because of this. Along with my hair, I keep my ears and tail pink, too. Indeed, I am a cat-girl, and although my body isn't furred, my ears and tail are. My ears are large, and I have the ability to perk them to the top of my head, or droop them slightly so that they hang down the sides. Other than these, my prominent catlike features are my clawed fingers and toes, my ability to purr, and the soft paddings on the soles of my feet. I never wear shoes because my claws feel uncomfortable in them, so this last feature comes in very handy. The downside is that my feet easily get dirty, and this is why I can't start modeling without thoroughly washing them first. While I was sitting on the edge of the bath tub and rubbing a washcloth against my foot, I heard a knock on the door. "I'm here," I said, loud enough for Joe to hear. He wasn't surprised to see that I was naked already, and walked over to me, holding a few pictures. He never really cared for my privacy except during my breaks. I didn't mind this, though; he was going to be seeing me naked for several hours anyway. "Let's see," I mused, leaning in to take a look. The poses were of the usual kind. Very exposed, but with modesty for the model's pelvic area. They always looked beautiful and very artistic, but I have to admit that I wish Joe was able to turn it into something beautiful. He was a talented artist, and his work was decent, but he put little effort into it. The act of drawing nude models was enjoyable to him, and he wasn't in it for the challenge, for the result, or for the satisfaction of making progress. I wondered if he even kept any of his drawings. "I like this one in particular." He showed me a picture of a woman lying sideways in a sofa, her head leaning on one hand, the other hand casually resting on her belly. "Looks okay to me. Do you want me to start with that one?" I lay the washcloth down, lifted my legs and turned around to face him while drying my feet with a towel. "You mean, this one for the entire session? Or is this just going to be a short session?" "No, no." He quickly shook his head, as if scared that I'd run out after one hour. "I've wanted this drawing to be something special." I lifted my eyebrows, but certainly wasn't not going to complain. I liked the pose a lot for two reasons. First, it looked beautiful, and I was looking forward to presenting myself like that way. There's a certain portion of pride I get while modeling, even if there's only one person who gets to see me. When I know I look wonderful, the experience gets very enjoyable. The second reason was more practical. The way the woman in the picture was positioned seemed very comfortable, and I immediately saw that it would be very relaxing to do this pose. Very easy to hold for four hours. It also struck me that he was aiming for something special. I wasn't going to ask about it, because I didn't want to give him the feeling that his other art wasn't special. Either way, I was curious. I grabbed my bathrobe without putting it on (even just touching the material sent wonderful tingles to me) and followed him into the drawing room. It was very brightly lit, with two spotlights facing the sofa. I knew what to do and didn't need any instructions. I lay down on the sofa, facing him, and took on the pose I had seen in the picture. Very easy, comfortable, and exposed. Modeling like this was always a thrill to me. Even though I had gotten used to being naked in front of Joe by now, I never lost the tingle of excitement it gave me. It didn't arouse me excessively and I didn't fantasize about it at night, but exposing myself to a much older man, knowing that he could see every bit of me, had a naughty feeling to it. "Good?" I asked. "Drape your tail over your leg." I smiled and did as asked, letting the tip of my tail dangle down just above my knees. In all fairness, I liked it when he acknowledged the fact that my cat-like features were part of the pose. He always had to improvise for this, but it felt wonderful to be in the presence of somebody who does not hate cat-like people. Believe me when I say that those people are very rare. It is one of the few things I liked about Joe. Even if our personalities weren't an exact match, I was very grateful for the things he was doing for me. I desperately needed money, and he had lots of it. After my mother's suicide, my sister and I had been very slowly spending the money she had left us. In a world of humans, xenophobia and racism, it was next to impossible for us cat-girls to find a job, other than jobs that required us to lower ourselves to the level of plain sex objects. Pornography, prostitution, strip dancing and such. I was lucky to have seen Joe's ad in the local newspaper. The money was an amount we couldn't pass up. And compared to strip dancing, nude modeling was a piece of cake. Lily and I both applied, but when he saw us in our birthday suits for the first time, he had commented that I was okay, but Lily wasn't accepted. We didn't know why, but after I saw some of the other models he worked with, I realized that he only worked with busty models. My breasts are among the smallest I've seen in there, and Lily is yet one size smaller than myself. "So tell me, Viona," he suddenly said, while picking up a pencil and double checking whether its tip was still ideal. I expected him to finish his sentence, but he didn't. "Tell you what?" "Tell me what's wrong." His voice had suddenly started being melodic. This never failed to amuse me: Joe had a very metered and oratory voice, with each word taking exactly as long as needed to complete the line he was drawing at the moment of pronunciation. I don't know whether he did this on purpose or not, but I never mentioned it to him. His way of talking made conversations a bit more funny to me. Despite his strange way of saying this, he had hit the nail on its head. At this point, I think it's interesting to mention that Joe was a very good talker and a very good listener. Our sessions usually took two to four hours, and with a quiet artist, I would probably not have wanted to sit there for such a long time. Joe, despite being arrogant, pretentious and probably quite perverted, was very easy to talk to, and I could tell that he enjoyed our conversations too. We knew much about each other, and I was able to tell him when something was on my mind. I breathed in deeply, then sighed, before realizing that I shouldn't have done that. It made my chest expand and fall, and from Joe's past instructions, I knew that this was distracting to artists, especially while drawing my chest. Joe had been looking at my face though, so I knew that no damage was done. "We're short on money. Again." A shiver ran through my body. I hated telling my employer - the very person who paid me - about my financial problems, but there was no way around it. "Oh." Indeed. That is why I didn't want to say this. I could already tell that he was not amused. To my surprise, he spoke again after a minute or two. From the stares I was getting now, I knew he was drawing my breasts. I resisted the urge to squirm a bit, but felt my nipples stiffening. This did not surprise him; it inevitably happened during all our sessions. "What's the situation, then?" I could tell from his tone that this last word coincided with a particularly long line. He was probably drawing the outline of my torso at this point. "Just... Bad." I sighed again, this time without the deep breath. "This is the only job I have, Joe. And I'm not complaining about the payment, but I can't live off of twelve hours of modeling per week. Besides, Lily still doesn't have a job, so you could say I have to run a family." Joe offered a weak smile, but he too knew that this wasn't going to comfort me. The hint that I wanted him to let Lily model for him was roaring at his face, but he simply wasn't going to do it. It took him half a minute to answer, but what he said was a step in the right direction. Without realizing it, I had begun trying to manipulate him. "Do you want an extra session?" "Is there room for one?" "I think there is. You could come for two hours tomorrow." Another long line. "Two hours..." It didn't take much math for me to realize that this would not be sufficient at all. "No more?" "No, Viona. You know there are many models and they need money too." A fair point. I wondered whether any of them were on the brink of getting booted out of their apartments because they couldn't pay the rent though. "I suppose so," I said softly. I tried to sound sad, but while having to lie still with a neutral face expression, I was not able to convey my emotions. Indeed, I failed at this, for a long silence followed. At one point, he took a few steps away from his canvas and began staring at me. I thought he was observing some details, but his stare lasted much longer than what's normally acceptable. I felt weird, being stared at like this, but the naughty cat inside me made me enjoy it. When he saw me giving him an inquisitive look, he spoke again. He didn't stop staring at me though. "What do you want from me, Viona?" I widened my eyes for a moment, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. My intention had been to subtly influence and manipulate him, to ease a solution out of him. I was convinced that, however heartless he may be, he didn't like the idea of me having problems such as these. But with this question, he made very plain that he saw through my plans all along. I didn't know of anything to say that would not make me look like a beggar. "If this is not enough, then you have to search for a better job," he added. His voice radiated carelessness, and he went back to looking at his canvas. "I have been searching!" I quickly exclaimed. Knowing that I was tensing up, I took a few slow breaths, and tried to stay calm. "I mean, other than strip clubs and brothels, nobody looks for people like me." "And how much do they pay you?" I couldn't believe my ears. Was he suggesting that I should do this? I quickly stammered back in disbelief, "Excuse me?" He gave me the Are you really this stupid? face. I swear I even saw a momentary hint of a grin. "Exactly how bad is the situation now?" I sighed once more. "We need to pay four months' rent by next week." "Or?" "Or what?" I gave him another inquisitive look. "Is this an ultimatum?" Frowning slightly, I nodded. We needed about twice what we had left. And if we managed to get this money and pay our debts, we'd still be nowhere in terms of what was to come. So if some kind of miracle occurred and we didn't get booted out in October, then we probably would in November. Joe now looked at me in disbelief, and when he spoke, he sounded a bit upset, as if we were suddenly in an argument. "No offense, Viona, but you need to get over your pride and do something about this. Do you think you'll achieve anything this way?" I immediately knew where this was headed, and worst of all, I knew it was true. Admittedly, I had thought about having sex for money, and although my relationship with Lily was very open, I knew that I would not be able to cope with this emotionally. I definitely enjoy sex, but only if my partner likes me for who I am, and not just for what I feel like. Having sex for a living sounded disgusting to me, and I had been avoiding this for as long as I could. Joe, however, was trying to make me realize that it was needed. But why did he do this? I knew he cared for me, and if he wanted to help me, he could easily have raised my payment. He was swimming in money after having sold a successful company, and even if he'd pay me double, forty hours a week, it would not have affected him at all. Why couldn't he just help me get my life back on track? Deep down, I knew the answer. He could indeed do this, and maybe he was even willing to, but the day I stopped working for him things would go downhill again. He was the only person I knew who didn't care for his employees' species, and if I'd ever stop working for him, I'd be back where I was right now. I realized my life was hopeless, and I suddenly became emotional. I didn't show it, but I knew I was going to cry when I was on my own. When he laid down his pencil after about half an hour and told me to take a break, I was very grateful. I sat up and stretched my arms and legs, which made him stare at me again for a second. This put me at ease again for a bit. I know men like to watch me move about, and although there's something embarrassing about being nude, I feel a sense of power and pride when I'm able to make a man give in to his instinctive weaknesses. Because I liked the positive effect this was having on me, I simply sat in the sofa, and chose not to seek the modesty of my bathrobe or the privacy of the dressing room. To my surprise, Joe moved over to me, and sat down next to me. I quickly scooted to the side of the sofa to give him some room. Even though this was the first time he had ever joined me on the sofa like this, I wasn't against it. It even felt more personal to talk like this, although my nudity mostly removed that effect. "What's keeping you from doing it?" His questions seemed to be straight to the point today. "Do you realize what I'd have to do?" I responded immediately. He shrugged, which confused me. Maybe he was just being a perverted old man after all. "Do you realize what you'll have to do if you don't take matters into your own hands?" Snap. The naked truth. Well, almost as naked as myself. A shiver ran through my body, and I gave a quick, reluctant nod. I was going to have to make a decision very soon, or there would be no way to turn back. Joe stood up, walked to his canvas again, and indicated me to resume my pose. "Either way, it's your choice. Let's continue, now." For three more hours, he drew me, and barely said anything. He only broke the silence occasionally to give me instructions. Usually this happened when I had accidentally moved a bit, and he wanted me to look exactly like I had before. I kept my eyes focused on him, but wasn't paying attention to him. My heart was racing with fear anticipation now. I knew I indeed had no choice, but I simply didn't want to become a prostitute. I knew Lily and I could move to a different part in the world where furries were more common and accepted, but we would need money to take such a step. Even a plane ticket to America would be a huge investment at this point. But slowly, very slowly, I started accepting the facts as they were presented to me. I would never have chosen for this to happen, but I now knew I'd become a prostitute. A hooker. A filthy whore. A service that men pay for, for their desperate desires. A tip would be the only sign of graditute I'd ever get, and although I'd have sex as often as I wished, I had the feeling that nobody was going to care for my own desires. I'd be fucked, filled, and dumped along with the condom. A living sex toy, that's what I was going to be. Joe let me have two more breaks which I spent on my own in the changing room, but eventually, our session ended, and he allowed me to go and get dressed. I had brought a bag with more comfortable clothes, and while I was putting on my shirt, I heard a knock on the door. I quickly smoothed my shirt down so that I was looking modest, and told him he could come in. "Will you be here tomorrow?" he said, while holding out my payment. I nodded definitively, and held out my hand. He seemed reluctant for a moment, but then gave me my money and said, "I hope you make the right choice." I stared at his face for a few seconds, then nodded reached into the neckline of my shirt to safely tuck the hard earned money away in my bra. An Extra Session On my way home, I continued weighing my options, even if I only really had one. By the time I came home, I had been able sort out my thoughts, and was feeling more calm. When I found Lily in the living room, I was able to smile for the first time again today, and gave her a kiss on the cheek, along with a brief fondle to one of her naked breasts. For as long as we've been sexually involved with each other, my sister and I have had a rule that disallows clothing inside the house. This rule can only be broken when we have visitors, but this happens very rarely. Lily was still unaware of what had happened earlier, and simply giggled at me. "Dyke." I nodded, and flicked my finger over her nipple before turning away again. I went to the bedroom to undress, and when two bank notes fell to the floor during the process of taking off my bra, I let out a sigh of relief. Money. It felt so precious to me, even if it was not enough to help me. "Carly Connor's on," Lily said, pointing at the television screen when I walked in again. I quickly gazed at the screen to confirm this. How I loved Carly Connor. She must be the best combination of beauty, soul and talent I have ever seen in a singer. Every song she sings is turned into a passionate monologue. If it weren't for my love for Lily, I would ask this woman to be my wife. I wish I could. My sister knew about this fascination I had, and she smirked at me. "Yep. Definitely a dyke." I stopped gawking at the screen, then giggled and dashed over to her, throwing my arms around her and pushing her down onto her side below me. "I think we've established that long ago, no?" She nodded, wrapped her arms around me, and kissed my lips. I felt our breasts pressing against each other and a jolt of excitement ran through my body. Lily knew by now that modeling turned me on to the point where I always needed to fuck her the moment I returned home. She had no problem with that, and by the time Carly Connor had finished her first verse, we were already passionately making out on the couch, our hands roaming over each other's backs, our tongues performing a beautiful, harmonic mating dance. We kept kissing for several minutes; I had lost track of time, but by the time I lifted my head and broke the kiss, a different artist was playing. "Aw, Carly's gone," I said, before playfully adding, "Not in the mood anymore." I began sitting up, but she quickly grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me back down. "Don't make me start singing one of her songs." I laughed at that. Lily and I both are horrible singers, and have no issues acknowledging this. "Okay, you win." My left arm moved to pull her close again, while my right hand slipped down to cop a feel between her legs. She must have been anticipating this, because her pussy was just as wet as my own. Her eyes closed and she pulled my face towards her own, but when I slid a finger into her folds, she was unable to kiss me. Her warm breath caressed my lips as it came out in pants, her body slowly squirming below me. I entered her with a second finger and she let out a needy groan. "Please, Vivi..." I smiled coyly, held my fingers still inside her, and paused until she opened her eyes. "Please what?" Normally when I do this, she begins whining and telling me to fuck her. Her enthusiasm makes her degrade herself, often to the point where she's calling herself a filthy slut, or other things. Today though, she didn't answer, and simply began rocking her hips, grinding herself against my fingers. I didn't need to do much other than watch and enjoy, and after a few minutes I could feel her pussy squeezing my fingers tight, as if trying to push them out of her love canal. Her orgasm was not spectacular or particularly strong, but beautiful to watch nonetheless. I smiled lovingly at her, and my own breath had quickened considerably. My smile turned into an amused grin as I realized the irony of this -- I came home, horny as always after modeling, and she ended up simply riding my fingers for her own needs instead of helping me with mine. "This is so unfair." I deliberately said this while she was still enjoying her afterglow, which startled her a bit. "What's unfair?" Her voice was slow and soft, almost dreamy. The voice of a woman who has had a great orgasm just a minute ago. "I'm supposed to be the horny one. You're so selfish." She smirked, her eyes still closed, and let out a soft purr. Her hips wiggled some more against my fingers, but then she brought a hand down to push my fingers out. "You only wanted Carly anyhow, dyke." "You're the dyke. Just look at you." "Liar." "Bitch." "Cunt." "Slut." "Whore." I opened my mouth to snap back, but then that word hit me right in the face. Suddenly, my desire to make her eat me out was gone completely, and if my pussy wasn't wet already, it had now been as dry as the Western Sahara. Whore. What was I supposed to say? "Yes, Lily, I was going to tell you that. I've decided to become a whore"? My throat suddenly went dry, and my grip on her body loosened as my passion faded. She opened her eyes again and gave me a half worried, half annoyed stare. "Don't tell me you suddenly don't like that word, Vivi." I simply gazed at her, my face showing distress. She soon realized that this was about more than just a meaningless insult. She gently pushed me off of her and sat up, facing me and inquisitively perking her brown furred ears. "What's wrong?" Her voice had raised a bit, as if sympathizing with a young child. This comforted me but before I realized what I was doing I had dropped my head onto her lap and was sprinkling my tears all over her beautiful thighs. "I don't want to do it, Lily..." We had discussed our problems several times before, and although it had never been stated explicitly, we both knew that I was going to have to do anything it took for money. Or more accurately, everything. I shuddered at the thought of being fucked by somebody who was probably too fat, ugly, smelly and dumb to find a woman who would actually want to have sex with him. Lily couldn't read my thoughts, but I didn't need to explain this. Somehow, she just knew what I meant. Her hand moved up to my head and her fingers combed the fur on my ears. Again, this comforted me a bit, but it didn't solve my dilemma. "I'll never judge you," she began. The very first instant, I couldn't believe my ears. I realized she was going to try and convince me to do it, but how could she be okay with this? She continued, though. "There's nothing else we can do. If we want to stay here, we will..." I could hear her reluctance, and this gave me some time to think. My emotional response was logical, and I had every right to feel insulted, but what she said was true. This wasn't the moment to care about pride and joy anymore. Lily cleared her throat, and softly pinched the thin skin of my ear between her fingers, before continuing. "If we don't do this now, soon we'll have to fuck people for just a bit of food and a shelter every night. I don't want to be homeless, Vivi." I nodded slowly. And it was more out of love for Lily than out of need to end this financial situation when I made up my mind and told myself to accept the idea. Viona, the prostitute. How much was I going to ask? At least I had a pretty smile -- I could probably get nice tips if I wanted to. A very deep sigh escaped my lips, and Lily nudged me to move my head out of her lap. I sat up, wiped my eyes, and saw her moving in to kiss me. This time, our kiss was slow and gentle, our tongues barely touching and hands simply sitting still on each other's hips. I didn't need to tell Lily how magical this felt; she already knew exactly how to deal with me when I was feeling depressed. As such, it was no surprise when I felt her move her lips away from mine. I was no longer horny because of the mood that had come up, but with the knowledge that she was doing everything to make me feel better, I let her continue downwards. Her lips moved slowly, leaving a thin trail of saliva on my chin, neck and collar bone. She spent a minute kissing and softly licking the skin at the height of my collar bones, and I could already feel the effect she was having on me. Her ability to turn sadness into sexual need was mind-blowing, and all I had to do was sit back with relish. Lily's tongue finally slid down, and her lips closed around my nipple to suckle the puffy areola into her mouth. I hissed softly in delight and placed my hands on her shoulders. I had no intention of stopping her, but my hands seemed to instinctively push her further down. She resisted for several seconds, but then gave in and left my nipple with a soft parting kiss. "Lily..." I could barely speak. Tears began forming in my eyes again, but this was different than before. The sadness that overwhelmed me now was a comfortable kind of sadness. The kind of sadness that comes along with the knowledge and hope that everything will be okay. Nothing had been said that hinted towards a bright future, but with Lily at my side I was ready to conquer the world if necessary. We had endured sixteen years of hatred from our mother together. We had made our way through six years of high school full of pranks, harassment, sexism and racism. We had done everything together for the past twenty-four years, and there was no reason for this to change. We'll manage, we'll manage, we'll manage, I kept repeating to myself while Lily's body squeezed itself between my legs and forced me to part them. "Relax, love," she whispered. Her touches were so soft, so slow, so gentle, I couldn't understand how she managed this. When I go down on somebody there's always a certain moment where I get overwhelmed with lust and my actions become much more eager. Lily never had this shift in style. Everything she did was perfect. I did as she told me, relaxing against the couch, and slowly sliding a hand up to rub her ear with my fingers. I toyed with the two safety pins that pierced her ear, but she gently grabbed my wrist to pull my hand away. "Don't... Just relax." I decided to simply rest my hands on my thighs now, and she finally reached my pussy with her lips. She started with a few licks to my nether lips, then used her fingers to splay my sex open, and licked directly at my labia minora. A soft, needy whimper escaped my lips, and she flicked her tongue over my urethra, then my clitoris, before moving down to lick my labia again. She had told me to relax, but this was impossible at this point. I began squirming slightly in my seat, and left my mouth agape so that my moans could freely exit. My inner labia are quite small, but very responsive to the right stimulation. Her tongue felt nice against them, but when she grabbed one with her lips and softly tugged it back and forth, I arched my back in delight. After six years of almost daily sex, she had gotten to know my body so well, bringing me to an orgasm was a walk through the park for her. She didn't rush things though. She had been softly licking my folds from outside, but after several minutes her hand came up and she used a duo of fingers to enter me. I was on fire now, but even during this she took her time. Very slowly, she fingered and licked me for what felt like half an hour or more. At one point I was starting to think that she didn't want me to have an orgasm today, but then her fingers tilted and began rubbing against the incredibly delicate spot inside me. She took my clitoris between her lips, pinched it firmly, and began suckling on it as if it were a nipple. I whimpered, moaned, and cried out in delight. My climax felt incredible. "Ah god, Lily..." She licked my sex clean, pulled her fingers out, and stood up. I remained where I was, not willing to end my high by opening my eyes or calling out my sister's name. Several minutes passed, and I was on my way to dreamland, but then I heard Lily's footsteps on the floor near me. I finally opened my eyes, and looked up at her. She was bent over above me, and used a handkerchief to wipe the tears off of my face. "You'll need to look pretty, Vivi," she said. She was smiling at me, but I had the feeling that she was feigning this to make me feel better. Fake or not, the smile helped, and I was beginning to open up to the idea of having the worst job in the world. "So how should I go about this?" I truly had no idea what I had to do. Accepting the idea to become a prostitute was one thing. Finding customers seemed like it was going to be more difficult. Lily had clearly thought about this already, though. The fact that she was confident was reassuring, and gave me some extra willpower. "I'll call some people, kitty." She smiled at me again, and used her handkerchief to wipe my pussy clean. It tickled, and I giggled and squirmed a bit. "When do you have another session with Joe?" I told her about the extra session I had been able to arrange. Although it was only two hours, it was better than nothing. Even though we still needed so much money, we both had the feeling that we could do this. Rationally there was no hope, but hope is not rational. Both of us were ironically happy for the rest of the day, and we made love two more times. By the time I was getting ready to go sleep, Lily had managed to make a list of phone numbers we could try the next day. I had to get up early again the next morning so I went to sleep, but she stayed up for another hour. The work she was putting into this left me with no way out. If I would let her down, everything would be entirely my fault. I was not going to let this happen. When my mobile phone's alarm woke me up the next morning, Lily seemed to still be sound asleep. I smiled, pressed a kiss to her forehead, and got up to take a shower. I had two hours of modeling in front of me today, and I knew this was easy in comparison to the dreadful things I would be doing very soon. Part of me was disappointed in myself. If I had made this decision way sooner, we would already have some comfortable money to sit on. Now, we would have to be very lucky in order to gather the money we needed before next week. It was cold again outside, and I was once more dressed in naught but a flimsy dress and a coat. It was only a five minute walk, but by the time I arrived, I was glad to feel the warm floor of Joe's house below my feet. I made my way into the dressing room, got naked, and took my time washing my feet. I was early, anyway. When I was done preparing myself, I realized that Joe hadn't come in to show me today's poses. This seemed normal to me, though. I assumed that he was going to continue with the pose we had done yesterday, so there was no need to discuss this part of the job today. I put on my bathrobe, quickly brushed by hair, and went to the drawing room. Joe was already standing behind his canvas, but there was a new paper. He must have discarded yesterday's drawing. This disappointed and confused me. I stood there for a moment, one hand on my chest, my feet melting against the wonderfully warm floor. "What pose do you want me to do?" He took a few seconds to respond, but then told me to sit down on the sofa. I began removing my robe, but he indicated that I didn't need to. Again, I was confused: he had never been like this before, and something inside me told me that he was up to no good. He leaned back against the counter, and stared at me. "I have been thinking, Viona. I want to help you and your sister." My eyes widened immediately, and I perked my ears. I began to smile in hope, but he held out his hand, his palm facing the floor, and moved it downwards a few times. I was anxious to know about what he wanted to tell me, but trying to show patience at the same time. He continued, but it seemed like he was reluctant to get to the point. "I know you don't like me, but I'm not a bad person. It pains me to see you working for money that doesn't help you. So I've decided to make you an offer." I had my head tilted to the side now, curiously watching him while he spoke. The fact that I bothered him warmed me, but I still felt worried. After a few moments of silence, I nodded so that he would continue. "We talked about this yesterday, and I hope you have given it some thought. I have decided that I will double your payment in return for..." He hesitated now, searching for words. I didn't need him to finish his sentence. I knew what he meant and my heart sunk to my feet. "... sexual favors." I quickly shook my head in disagreement, and felt offended, upset, insulted. "I model for you, Joe. I'm not going to let you fuck me." I knew it was ironic. I was going to fuck many people very soon, but there was no way I was going to have this arrogant bastard have his way with me. Sex with people I didn't care for seemed a lot better than sex with people I actually disliked. What he said next shattered my world though. It also showed that he had anticipated to this answer, and had made up his mind about this. "If you don't take this offer, I want to discontinue working with you." I started to answer, but he kept talking. "I'm not insensitive, and I can't stand drawing you while I can read the worries from your face. What I'm paying you now is not enough to help you, so I am not doing anything wrong when I..." Oh god, not that word. Everything, but not that word. "... fire you." I had no idea what to say. He was right. With the money he was currently giving me, I still had nothing. But there was no way I could let him fire me, because I had no clear sight on what Lily had accomplished so far. Ideally, I'd be able to fuck a thousand people during the next few months and end up swimming in money, but if finding customers was going to be difficult, then every cent could make a difference. He had me standing with my back against the wall and the knife pressing against my throat. I bit my lower lip, and quietly nodded. This elicited an approving smile from him, and I could only feel used. I had done months of modeling for this self-proclaimed artist, only to be turned into his own whore. And from the way he was acting, I could only conclude that he had been hoping for this all along. "Take off your robe. Let's get started." I nodded again. Modeling would be a relief now, although I loathed the idea of what was to come next. I guessed he'd want me to let him fuck me at the end of this session, so I had an hour or two to prepare for this. While he started getting his pencils ready, I turned to take off that beautiful bathrobe. Every time I did this, I almost felt sorry for parting with it. I carefully lay it down on the shiny clean floor, and when I turned to face him again, I saw his hands fumbling with something I hadn't seen before in his studio. When I heard the soft sound of ripping paper, I focused better on his hands, and gasped deeply. I started panicking, and just barely kept myself from running out of his house completely in the nude. "Is that... Is that a..." I stuttered and felt my cheeks turning on fire, my entire body trembling. The way he looked at me showed confusion, and he stood still for a minute. Meanwhile, I could see a bulge growing in his pants. I was really, really not ready for this. "Is that what?" His fingers moved again, and what I saw confirmed my hunch. He was taking a condom out of its paper. "Joe, wait..." I held out my hand, indicating for him to stop. I was trying desperately to buy some time, but again, I had nowhere to go. I was completely naked, I had agreed to have sex with him, and he was already getting into it, judging from the way his pants looked. He was my employer and my customer at the same time now. The deal had been made, and now was the moment of truth. An Extra Session "Wait for what?" Clearly, his idea of this deal was that we would get straight into the sex. It hadn't been discussed, so I suppose it was wishful thinking on my part when I thought I was going to have some time to prepare. "Aren't you... You know, drawing me first? I'm still here to model, right?" As I said it, I realized how dumb it sounded. He answered straight away. Again, I could tell that he had thought about this. "You will model for me afterwards. From now on, we will begin every session this way." "Every session?" My voice suddenly sounded way louder. He sighed at me, but already began taking off his pants. His legs showed his age as much as his face did. Although I didn't know how old he was, I was confident with my guess that he was in his early fifties. "Of course." The way he made this seem like something completely normal further distressed me. "I am paying you twice the normal amount. If you don't want to do this, you can still go home." I lowered my eyes, and nodded quickly. "Okay then. On the sofa," I said softly, before sitting down in it myself. His movements quickened, and he hastily took off the rest of his clothes, revealing his own naked body to me for the first time after he had seen my own nudity several times a week for the past months. He made his way over to me, his erection jutting out about six inches from his dark pubic hair. I almost shuddered in disgust and turned, bending over so that I could lean against the arm rest. Letting him take me from behind was a choice I made very consciously. I already felt myself getting emotional, and tears were welling up in my eyes. If I didn't have to face him during this, it wouldn't feel as personal, as intimate, as degrading. I'd simply be a bent over body to him, with a pussy to use for his own satisfaction. It wouldn't have to do with me as a person. And although I had always known that I was infertile, I was very glad that he had put on a condom. I was convinced that he hadn't had sex in many years and as such didn't have any diseases, but I knew we'd need the lubrication that this condom offered since I was not the least bit turned on. Furthermore, the mere thought of touching his cock disgusted me, and I was much more okay with the idea of it not directly touching my own most intimate, most precious areas. I whimpered when I felt a prod against my pussy, and then he slid in, very slowly. His less than average girth would normally have been easy to deal with, but I was unable to relax my muscles down there. I was nervous, shivering, tense, and when he pushed into me, it hurt a great deal. "Oh yes, you're so tight, Viona," he groaned. He could not possibly have said a worse thing. I placed by elbows on the sofa's armrest, and pressed my hands to my face. My shoulders began jerking in quick, short movements, and when I felt his hands moving around my body to squeeze my breasts, my lower lip began quivering. I bit down on it, as hard as I could manage, and the taste of blood on my tongue came simultaneously with the feeling of tears against my hands. Twelve times, he moved his cock out, and back in. Twelve times, and then he groaned out and emptied years of pent up seed into the condom. Twelve times. I counted. During the rest of the modeling session, I was worthless. I felt worthless. Every bit of self respect, every bit of dignity, every bit of integrity was shattered to pieces now. My pussy didn't really hurt afterwards, but there was a psychological pain that I simply couldn't deal with. After he had fucked me, Joe had left to take a shower, and he allowed me to do the same in the changing room. I was able to relax in the tub for a while, but by the time I got out, I think half of the water in it was my own tears. I managed to stop crying while he was drawing, but when a bulge formed in his pants again after ten minutes, I knew full well that he wasn't interested in me as a model anymore. I was now nothing more and nothing less than a sex toy to him. I was very glad when I remembered that this was only a two hour session. It was over pretty soon, but he reminded me of the change in our so-called business relationship yet again, by simply following me into the changing room. I know that there's something erotic about watching a woman undress or get dressed. Although he had seen me naked so many times, this was not something I felt like sharing with him. Soon though, I realized that I had no choice in this matter. He only wanted to talk to me while I was getting dressed, but it was very obvious that he was watching me the entire time. "I've made some more room in the schedules," he told me. This was financially a nice surprise and emotionally dreadfully predictable. "Can you come tomorrow at 9 AM?" "How long?" "Two hours." It struck me that this was actually a ridiculous deal. I knew I should be getting more than double for having sex with him, when I was still modeling afterward. I would have complained, but at this point, I was scared to lose this job. Any money I could grab was worth whatever I had to do for it. "I'll be there," I said. I grimaced as I accidentally bit the wound inside of my lip. "Can I have my money before I leave?" "Sorry, I forget. Of course you can." He pulled out the money from his pocket and I snatched it out of his hand, before tucking it away in my bra. As usual, I had my bag with me but this was nothing like a purse, so my bra seemed like the best option. "See you tomorrow then, Joe." I smiled weakly, and made my way out. During my walk home, I had another emotional fit. I had a handkerchief pressed against my face almost all the while, and was almost starting to hyperventilate. I got weird looks from several people while I passed them by, but I ignored each of them, not wishing to share my feelings with anybody. I wasn't worth their time, anyway. They were all humans with respectable jobs, families, kids. I was a cat girl and a prostitute, and had a relationship with my own sister. Who would want to waste their time with me? Just like yesterday, it was a relief to finally see my sister again. She was apparently finishing a phone call just as I walked in, and while her left ear was still listening to the phone, her right perked as if to greet me. I leaned in, pressed my lips against her free cheek, but respectfully made no kissing sound. My hand moved into my shirt, took the money I had earned today, and tossed it onto the table along the way. As usual, I quickly got undressed in the bedroom, then joined my lover in the kitchen. The phone call was finished, and from the look on her face, I could tell that she already knew what had happened. Moments like these always make me reconsider whether she's an actual mind reader, or just a very level headed person. "How was it?" Her eyes were gazing into mine with a heavy portion of sympathy, and her hand had reached out to squeeze mine. I realized that although I was not crying anymore, my eyes probably had a red quality to them. "Horrible. But it didn't last long. He didn't, I mean." She smiled now, seemingly amused by Joe's lack of stamina. She motioned to the money I had dropped on the table with one hand, and caressed my fingers with the other. "Double payment?" I nodded, and sighed softly. "Well then... Eight hundred to go." She sounded like a professional when saying this. I simply shrugged and nodded. Eight hundred to go. Eight more sex sessions. She spoke again, and her thoughtful questions kept blowing my mind. She really understood what I was going through. "Did he use a condom?" Again I just nodded without speaking. "Did it hurt?" Another nod. "I've made spaghetti for lunch." The change in subject startled me, and before I was able to respond, she already answered the question I was going to ask. "Carbonara." For what felt like the first time today, I actually felt happy. Truly happy. My sister was absolutely, completely perfect. No flaws. At times like these, I felt terribly inferior to her. She wasn't a particularly great cook, but considerably better than me. Moreover, for the life of me, I was unable to remember her favorite meals. She never failed to remember mine. Perfection in its perpetually nude, brown haired form. Even while I was a pathetic whore, I knew I was the luckiest girl in the world. As you could guess, the spaghetti were amazing. I was feeling a lot better very soon, and after lunch, we did the dishes together. We had some of our usual small talk. What we were going to do today, what she had been doing while I was at work, etc. She told me that she had received some positive answers to her phone calls, but sadly people weren't looking to hire us straight away. We were going to have to go through a few tests and possibly an audition, which complicated things drastically. It was Thursday today, and by Monday, we had to have our money. The thought depressed me, but the way Lily told me this seemed casual, and she was convinced that she could convince somebody to let us begin early. Later that day, Lily and I had sex again. It was not as gentle as yesterday, but not wild either. We used our fingers on each other, and Lily made a point of suckling and nibbling my sensitive ears during this. She came about half a minute before me, but we ended up snuggled up comfortably under a blanket, blissfully enjoying the afterglow of our coupling. Finally, she brought up the subject of what had happened in Joe's studio again. "Two more days until the next session?" I shook my head. "He changed the schedule again. I think he's going to make me come every day now." "That's good." The way she looked into my eyes showed that she understood the irony of this; I was in no way looking forward having sex with him every day. "Just think of something else, Vivi," she added. "I mean, I know it's difficult, but if you can enjoy part of it, it won't be that bad..." This made it sound so easy. Just enjoy it and it'll be fun. I knew it would take time, but I also knew that it was true. Maybe Joe's stamina would improve after a few times. Maybe he'd learn that sex is more fun with a partner who is enjoying it too, and he'd put some effort into making it worthwhile for me. Maybe, maybe, maybe... Deep down, I knew this was very unlikely, but I was able to comfort myself with these thoughts. "Did he say anything about me?" she suddenly asked. I inquisitively perked my ears, but then understood what she meant. "No, he didn't... I don't know why. Do you want me to ask him to let you come, too?" She nodded to this, which surprised me positively. She was willingly offering to share this load, and I felt reassured yet again. Our conversation took a different direction again, and we snuggled for some more, before getting up to take a shower. It was nice to soap each other, but our hands didn't wander. There are times for sex, and there are times for other things. Right now, I felt like going out for a late afternoon run. I hoped it would relieve some of the stress that was still left after Lily and I had sex. I ran for about forty minutes. Usually I run longer, but when I had been going for a little over three miles, I felt tired, and took the quick way home. I took another shower, had dinner with Lily, then started taking care of laundry while Lily cleaned the kitchen. There was very little laundry because I had been wearing the same dress for a few days -- I only had to wear it in the morning anyway -- and Lily hadn't put on a single piece of clothing for a full week. It's funny how many advantages there are to being a nudist. I went to sleep early, and Lily again spent some more time making phone calls. The next day, I woke up early, and Lily was still sound asleep. At least, that's what I thought at first; when I pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, she let out a very soft hum and briefly lifted her hand to brush her fingers against my cheek. I smiled, and quietly left the bedroom after grabbing the dress I was going to wear. I took a very quick, cold shower, had a waffle for breakfast, and spent a few minutes browsing this week's cat-girl magazine. It's simply called "CAT" and the majority of its content is pictures of scantily dressed or fully nude cat-girls. I liked spending a lot of time checking them out, and I remember thinking that my body probably looked good enough for this kind of work. I had sent an application email for it long ago, but never received an answer. I finally left for today's session, and when I came in, Joe gave me an unusually friendly smile. I weakly smiled back, feeling nervousness boiling up again. As if wanting to rub it into my face some more, he said we'd start with sex, then continue the pose I had done for the past two days. I didn't protest, but wasn't really happy with the idea either. But I trusted that things would get better after a few times. When I walked into the studio wearing my favourite robe, he was already naked, erect, and wearing a condom. To my surprise, I didn't get emotional this time, just a bit disgusted. He really looked like the perverted old man he was. He was probably thirty years older than me, and logically there was no way I could feel attracted to him. He smiled at me and motioned to the couch. "Please get ready." I nodded, dropped my robe, and stepped over to the couch. I felt a little more courageous, so I decided to be a good whore and let him take initiative. "How do you want me?" Meanwhile, I tried my best to think about things that would otherwise arouse me in an instant. Lily, the girls in my magazine, the gorgeous man I had dated for a few weeks two months ago, the amazing way he had made me feel every time we had sex... Nothing worked. I started to panic, but then had a moment of clarity. "Do you have any lube here?" He was surprised by this question, and shook his head. I sighed, but then realized that his condom's lubrication was probably enough. Moreover, in an act of complete shamelessness, I sat down on the couch, spread my legs, and began softly rubbing my sex with my own hand. He stared at me, as if mesmerized. I suspected that he thought I was doing this for him, and it gave me a sense of control over the situation. No matter what's happening, when I'm able to stun a man using my charms, I usually feel powerful over him. This was no exception, and I even felt proud. After a minute, I could feel my pussy becoming a bit damp, and I smiled in satisfaction. I was in fact even feeling turned on now. Maybe this was going to be somewhat enjoyable after all. I moved my hand away, and this seemed to snap Joe out of his trance. He made his way over to me and grabbed my hips to position my body a bit better. "You're beautiful, Viona. I've always loved drawing you." While he said this, he grabbed his cock, and slowly guided it to my entrance. I surprised myself as I smiled again. It was nice to hear that he admired me like this, and I relaxed further. When he began pushing into me, I felt no pain. Although I was disgusted with myself, I had no issues taking him into me. I closed my eyes, and let out a soft sigh as I felt his condom caressing my inner walls. It took some effort, but I was able to convince my imagination that this penis was attached to a beautiful, young, respectable man. Yesterday, Joe had only taken twelve thrusts, but today he took much longer. His hands found my breasts, and I instinctively reached up and squeezed his hands with my own. I was really doing a good job now, I thought. And indeed, his cock felt nice inside me. He squeezed my breasts more firmly, and I did nothing to keep myself from letting out a soft moan. This seemed to be all it took for Joe to start really getting into it. His movements sped up, and I could feel his groin slapping against my ass with every thrust. I kept my eyes closed, and moaned softly again. He answered this with a deep groan, and he began panting deeply and audibly. I got uncomfortable when he began eagerly ramming himself into me way too hard, but then he tensed up and came inside me, although his condom kept his cum from touching me directly. I opened my eyes and smiled faintly again. "Good?" The way I said this sounded like a normal question, but I said it sardonically, for my own enjoyment. He seemed not to notice this. He responded, "Excellent, thank you." He held the condom securely around his cock with his fingers while pulling out, and I reached down to caress my pussy again. I had gotten quite wet, and sighed in relief. If it was going to be like this every time, I might actually be able to do this without too many issues after all. The rest of the session was very comfortable. Because we both took a shower after he had fucked me, there was not much time left, and he chose to let me do various poses for a few minutes each, changing the plans he had made earlier. I did not mind, even though the poses now had become much more lewd. During the last pose, he had me sit back against the couch with one hand between my legs and one hand on my breast. This would have been a rather modest pose, but then he changed his mind, and told me to spread my legs a bit further, and to press two fingers into my pussy. I wondered whether he would be jerking off to this drawing later, but I frankly didn't care. He had already demonstrated his lust for me by making me have sex with him. The next two days were similar, and while he was fucking me from behind during our Sunday session, I thought that I would have had an orgasm if he had kept going for a bit longer. It was all turning out to be way better than I had anticipated, although I knew that part of this was my brain's instinctive reaction, to protect me from depression and nervous breakdowns. What happened next was inevitable though. Lily had not been able to get a job for us and by Monday, we still were short. We argued and begged and pleaded, but our landlord would have none of it. In fact, I later realized how generous he had been when he just took what we had and told us to forget the rest, if we moved out immediately. None of the furniture was our own and we didn't own many clothes, so there was not much we needed to pack. We were both carrying two large bags, and soon found us on the doorstep of what had been our apartment. We had nowhere safe to go, but we both knew what we had to do. Without saying a word, we began walking to Joe's colossal residence. Along the way, Lily very quietly apologized, but I really couldn't be upset with her. We had both done everything we could, and none of us could be blamed for this. When I pressed the doorbell at Joe's gate, I turned and saw her blinking away a few tears. This nearly broke my heart, and I quickly pulled her into a tight, sisterly hug. I was startled when I heard a voice behind me, but then realized that this was Joe's intercom. I cleared my throat and turned to face the microphone. "Hi Joe. It's Viona and Lily." I wanted to continue, but was interrupted immediately by his answer. "Yes, come in." The gates opened, and we walked over to the front door. He opened it after a minute, and was smiling at the both of us. Something about that made me cringe. I realized now that Joe had been expecting us. With some simple math, he had made sure that we would fail to pay our rent, and now here we were. I could see why his company had been so successful; he was very intelligent, and apparently had the ability to influence others dramatically without them ever realizing. He locked the door behind us, and invited us into his living room. I was stunned by the beauty of this room. I have described his talents as mediocre, but the walls were entirely decorated with his own drawings, and I must admit that it was spectacular. There were two drawings of me; one close up of the side of my torso, and one where I was leaning back against the wall with my hands at the back of my head. Both were essentially focused on my breasts, but I could see that his drawings of other models included many different styles. Joe must have seen me gawking because he smirked knowingly at me. He motioned us to sit down on the couch, and he took a seat in a rocking chair facing us.