Not a Beautiful Woman

In the Deep South, August is a nightmare of heat and humidity. September is not noticeably better. About the middle of October, the temperature will get more tolerable and by early November there may actually be a few comfortable days in a row. That is in a hot/dry year. In a cool/wet year, late October could have many comfortable days. But God Almighty Himself couldn't have anything good to say about August, no matter which kind of year. It was just around the corner and Maggie dreaded its coming almost as much as an old person did the shingles.

The lack of air conditioning in Eli's loaner car made driving to her "workplace" on a Saturday morning uncomfortable, but she never said a negative word about it, not even in her own mind. She was too grateful to Eli and he knew that the car lacked luxuries (some around there would call air conditioning a necessity) but it was clean and reliable and he made an effort to keep it that way. When he gave Maggie the keys, he said, "I knows it be old and the ac not workin'. You know the ac always be the firs' muthafukin' thing to go out on a car and that's only if you be lucky. And it don' do no good to put money into fixin' it cuz it never work right agin. That's how I git my cars so cheap. So I just learns to live with it. It ain' like the muthafukin' settlers had ac in their wagons now is it? So we surviving baby girl, don' you worry none. November be here befo' you know it."

As usual, she had laughed non-stop during his Eddie Murphy-like diatribe. It was just one of his gifts. The only time she knew of him never having something witty to say was when they were fucking; that was all "bidniz." He had quipped once while she'd been sucking his cock and she snorted so hard she nearly choked, so he refrained from talking then as well. She didn't know if he was in love with her but he made it plain that he thought the world of her.

On second thought, she knew he wasn't in love with her. Eli was too practical on the one hand, and too carefree on the other to indulge in what he would "that romantical bullshit." He got plenty of sex (he was a ladies' man, just ask him) and all the companionship he wanted. He had always relied only on himself until he and Maggie had gone into business together and that was something else that kept her close and loyal; she knew that somehow something about her had penetrated his armor and made her special to him.

Of course, she still loved her master, heart and soul. What he would do if he ever found out about her workplace she hated to think. She lived two lives and one was being the sex slave of her master. "Actually," she thought to herself, "it's more titillation than true slavery." While, except for her work, she abided by his four rules, as more time passed, she realized that she didn't feel as if she were his property. What she did with him she did simply because she loved doing it. From the dress code, to calling him Daddy, to him calling her Slut, to him making her beg for permission to come when they fucked, everything enhanced their sex life by exciting them and increasing their pleasure. They both tacitly accepted this. Besides, he didn't really want to dominate her in the way that some in that lifestyle do; it just wasn't in him, and that was fine with her. While being dominated during sex made her come more, and more intensely, she did as she pleased when he wasn't around. Which fact led to her second life.

In her second life she was a whore; and a whore in the true meaning of the word. Most people in the South confused the word "whore" with "slut." A slut is a woman who fucks whomever she wants. A "whore" only fucks whomever pays her. Maggie was both. She made a lot of money (for her) having two gangbangs every Saturday from 9 to 11 and from 1 to 3. There were nearly always four men in the group and all were black. That was her speciality, gangbanging 4 black men at a time. Sometimes only 3, but never more than 4. One of them had asked her, "Baby, what a fine ass white woman like you doin' fuckin' niggas by the bunch?" Her response nearly made him come, "There ain't enough hours in the day for me to get all the cock that I want and still make a living, so I make a living getting cock." Eli overheard (he was always right there in the room protecting her) and spluttered while he cackled, "You tell 'em, baby girl!"

She had been in business with Eli for the past 8 weeks and so far it was all good. Eli was a man of many talents. A savvy businessman, he spent what he needed to put up the best front that he could. That meant a more than adequate air conditioner for the trailer that served as Maggie's workplace, lots of extremely sexy "hoe clothes" for Maggie, and an excellent music system. This last was necessary because Maggie's sessions always began with an extended dance that she was sure would be classified as a sex act in several neighboring states and could raise the dead.

After one of her dances, all the men in the group were easy to please, but Maggie was a real pro, or rather she liked sex so much, and the dance was just the beginning. Whatever the act, if was considered sexy, she did it and she meant it. It was all natural. When it looked like she was having an orgasm, she was. And she loved to be fucked by several men at the same time. She was sincere when she told her customers, "The only thing better than a hard cock is a bunch of them."

Even Eli wondered about her a little. Despite his admiration for her, which extended well beyond her body but stopped short of romantic love, it was hard for him to understand how she could profess undying love and a physical attraction bordering on hunger for her Daddy and still service a group of strange men with such genuine enthusiasm. Maggie could tell that this subject was on his mind when she got to work last week because he questioned her about how things were going with Daddy. Answering his unasked question Maggie told him that she thought of herself as "Maggie" with Eli and "Slut" with Daddy and there was no inconsistency with "Maggie" screaming out her multiple orgasms while being stuffed in every possible way with strange black cock and "Slut" begging Daddy to "Please let me come."

When Eli, by his countenance, expressed incredulity, Maggie said, "These past few months have taught me two things. First, my sex drive is strong enough to probably classify me as a nymphomaniac and it's gotta be fed. So I whore the way I do and I love doing it. Second, my love for Daddy keeps me emotionally stable enough to accept myself as I am. So, I'm able to completely separate sex from love, which is what allows me to enjoy whoring so much. Only with Daddy does sex and love come together. In my heart, I'll never leave him. He is the ONE."

After listening to this, Eli shook his head with an, "Emmm, emmm, emmm," and said, "Maggie dahlin' you the wonder of the world. How a 20 year girl gets to know so much?"

While saying this, he had given her that special look that conveyed the fact that, while he would never try to compete with Daddy emotionally, she had no better friend and protector. That look always triggered the special something within her that she felt for Eli. She knew it could never replace her love for Daddy, but she treasured it above all other things.

So, as he observed her with that soft, sincere gaze, Maggie got up, sat in Eli's lap, placed her arms around him, kissed his neck and licked his ear and whispered, "Hows about I give you some of that 'primo white pussy' you love soooo much?" She got up, took his hand and walked him back to the bedroom.

He followed, partially mesmerized, but managed to stammer, "The customers will be here befo' long, baby girl."

"I know, but we've got time," she said as she doffed her shorts and top. Silently she unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants, and pulled them down. She knelt before him and took his cock into her mouth, swirled her tongue around the head several times, drove it down her throat and came back up for some more swirling. Eli called her cocksucking technique "swirl and swoop." After two cycles, she laid back on the bed, spread her legs, held out her arms and said,"that black snake of yours is hard as a rock and I want it now, baby. Only yours for right now. I only want my Eli's cock. Come fuck me, baby."

No concern could stop him from doing exactly as she asked. He inserted his dick slowly, knowing she liked to get used to the size for a moment, and then began to move his hips around in a circular motion so as to stimulate her clit. She rolled her eyes up into her head, clamped her legs around him, gyrated her hips in rhythm with him and caressed his back while moaning quietly.

As their mutual heat built, their movements quickened and both began grunting like two animals. When he knew he was about to unload he attempted to pull out, but she refused to release him. Instead, she increased the pressure of her legs, grabbed his ass with both hands and moaned into his ear, "Scald my insides with your hot cum baby, pleeeeeeease!" Her words and high-pitched squeal set him off. His coming lasted for several strokes. The feeling of warm, fresh sperm in her belly that she knew she had elicited always brought her to orgasm. They shuddered together for several moments and then lay still, but not for long.

Recovering first Eli said, "Baby girl, you the best there ever was. Ain' nothin like you on this whole earth." He kissed her gently on the forehead, which in light of what they'd just done seemed strange, but he knew she never kissed any man on the mouth but her Daddy. Mouth kisses were reserved for love, cock kisses for sex. "That woman really knows her shit," he thought. He said, "Git up baby girl. You got to be clean and sweet fo' this bunch coming soon. Junba done told one of 'em how much you like yo pussy licked and he wanna try. So hurry up. You got 30 minutes and I gotta change these sheets." He playfully slapped her ass and she giggled as she got up, put a washcloth between legs to keep from dripping and walked into the bathroom to get ready for her first session of the day.

She didn't specialize in blacks because she preferred them to whites. It was the fact that, except when she was fucking Daddy or Eli, she preferred to be gangbanged and black men, she had been told, were more consistently interested in participating in that than whites. Maggie cared nothing for skin color. As far as she was concerned, a cock was a cock. And fucking them four at a time was a much more efficient way to earn more money in less time. So, as she had said to herself before, "it's all good."

That hot Saturday morning in late July, she got to the trailer at 8 as usual. Eli was already there with a fresh iced coffee waiting for her in his hand. "Mornnin' baby girl. You drink this and take yo cold shower while ole Eli gits everything else ready." This was their ritual in this hot weather: cold shower and ice coffee. Eli made it better than anybody she knew; real honey and half and half in a 12 ounce mug that had "E&M Media" printed on it. E&M was a clever joke of Eli's. It really stood for "Eli & Maggie," but he had told the lawyer who set up the corporation that it meant "Electro Magnetic." He cackled his head off every time he told the story of the lawyer's expression when Eli bounced the tagline "We're a talent magnet that will electrify the world." "Muthafuka thought it the best thing he done ever heard."

Of course, the joke was that the company was just a shell for Eli to filter expenses through and to show a little income on his tax return. Maggie had heard him talking to one of his friends (all her customers seemed to be Eli's friend) last week about taxes, "You says you vote Democrat? Fo' what nigga? Wha' them muthafukas ever done fo' you except take yo money and give it to some other muthafukas to buy their vote. So, way I see it, payin' taxes is consprin' in a guvmint circle jerk and the muthafuka payin' the taxes is the pivot man. You feel me?" Eli couldn't help but be funny even when he was trying to be serious.

Now Maggie had never filed a tax return because she had never held a job where the employer had a bunch of paperwork and rules and all that. She'd worked summers on her grandfather's farm and helped out in the shop of a friend of her mother while in high school. She'd always been paid cash and really had no idea about taxes. She had no doubt that Daddy knew all about such things, but the subject never came up because she hadn't had what her people had called a paperwork job before and the amounts that ultimately passed through her hands were too small to worry about. So, now that she was acquiring a substantial amount of money for the first time in her life, she needed advice. She couldn't ask Daddy without divulging everything about her second life, so that left Eli. "Sure enough, Maggie dahlin' I show you jus' wha' to do."

He showed her how to set up a bank account at a bank that had safety deposit boxes in the town nearest to where Eli lived, which happened to be the same town in which she'd had her first party. Under his advice, every Monday she put $40 in a savings a account, $40 in a checking account and the balance, usually $240, in her safety deposit box. So far, she had accumulated about $2500 over the past two months; a lot of money for her. Eli had told her, "You jus' keep on accumulatin', sugah. Ain' no such thing as too much cash."

When she asked, "But what about taxes?" he answered, "Fuck taxes. You ain' gotta pay no guvmint muthafuka nothin'. You ain' never filed no return, so don' start now. Filin' a muthafukin' tax return is like scratching a real bad rash; once you start, you cain' stop even though its real bad fo' yo' health, in this case, yo' financial health."

"But then, why do you file?" she asked.

"Cuz, baby doll, I was in the service. Once you in the service, them guvmint muthafukas know everything and you gottta be careful so they don' come sniffin' aroun' yo' ass like dog and throw you in jail fo' pissin' on the wrong muthafukin' tree."

Bringing her thoughts back to the present, she knew that this morning's session was to be typical, but this afternoon was special. A friend of Eli's (and a customer) was in a wedding party and he had convinced the groom to start his bachelor party at E&M. Maggie wouldn't mind except that she feared the party might get out of hand if the groomsmen showed up too drunk. When she expressed her concern to Eli, he just shook his head and said, "Don' you worry at all, baby girl. Them niggas done been told what it means to cross ole Eli and it ain' been done now these five years past." She wondered what he meant and remembered that he'd admitted to being in the service. She made a mental note to ask him after 3 when he got his special time with her. She knew that, like any man, it was a lot easier to get information out of him before he put his dick into her.

At 12:55, she was ready for the wedding party. She had freshly showered, douched, and redone her makeup and hair. She and Eli both thought that having her hair put up on one side with a flower behind her ear was the best look for her, not only because it reminded them both of her original party night, but because a variety of flowers looked good with her blond hair. That made it easier to get flowers year round and they lent a special sweet touch that contrasted well with her sexy wantonness.

Before they had opened shop, Eli had taken her to New Orleans to buy sexy clothes, just as Daddy had done. She made sure that they avoided the places she had visited with Daddy. You just never knew. They could get really good stockings at home, and stockings needed to be replaced often, so they didn't bother with them on that trip. Eli had helped her make her choices and the various dresses were beautiful in color and hyper-slutty in cut. For every different color dress she bought matching shoes, all in the same style.

She'd gotten lucky and found a place that sold and dyed shoes, so all she had to do was pick a style and show the dresses so that the colors would match. The style (Eli called it "Maggie Standard") was the same for every pair: 3 inch widely built heels, open-toed, sexy sandals made from very soft suede. Perfect for walking, dancing and fucking. She always left her stockings and shoes on when fucking her customers because she knew it was sexy. In fact it was so sexy that she liked looking in the mirror while she was getting fucked, especially when she was on her back and her legs were in the air, so she could see her sexy shoes on her sexy feet. And she knew how much the customers liked it because they often gently took her shoes off and sucked her toes. That had seemed weird at first, but she had grown to like the sensation.

She paid a lot of attention to her feet, and her hands as well, because they were important assets. They were perfectly formed and just the right size for her body. She never used colored nail polish because Daddy hated it. He said he couldn't get the image of lazy women using it to cover up dirt out of his head. And the smell was so awful it gave him a headache. So, instead of colored nail polish ("painting over dirt"), she kept her hands and feet meticulously clean, filed her nails down to a comfortable, neat, and attractive level, and polished them with a clear protective varnish that made them gleam. Like everything else about her, her hands and feet were real and nothing was hidden.

For her afternoon session that day, she had chosen a bright medium blue outfit that looked beautiful with her coloring and resembled a baby doll nighty. Because it was a wedding party, Eli had suggested the white, but that was just his sense of humor. The dress was short. The hem reached down to just below the cheeks of her bottom but failed to cover the lacy tops of her sheer stockings. The skirt area was pleated and opaque and lifted deliciously when she twirled around while dancing. Of course, when it lifted, her naked pussy and ass were fully exposed.

The upper part of the dress was composed of sheer lace with sequins sewn onto the fabric. The midriff was form-fitted and topped off by cups for her breasts, which showed through the fabric nearly without impediment and swayed with no restraint at all as she walked. From the top of each cup dangled a string. The strings tied in a bow on the back of Maggie's neck. When dancing in this dress, untying the bow was a privilege awarded to whomever in the group she chose. Her criteria varied, but this afternoon it would obviously be the bridegroom. She would also allow him to unzip the midriff section and, probably, squeeze her ass in the process.

At precisely one o'clock, Maggie heard a car pull up. She smiled confidently. She was a "by appointment only" whore and her reputation was such that no customer had ever been late. She heard Eli open the door and say, "Come on in, gents, come on in. Ya'll ready to par-tay?" There was a variety of "Hell yeah," and "Mos def," uttered in the tone that Maggie had come to know reflected a combination of curiosity, excitement, and lust. "Well, Maggie's ready to par-tay with ya'll. She done got a special outfit on and dance preeepared fo' ya'll. But first there is the matter of the cash," he said holding out his hand. Peero turned over an envelope containing the requisite $320.

Eli always talked up the crowd. He was a master salesman. She told him so once and he responded, "Wellll, Maggie dahlin', ain' gotta sell you, bein' you the hottest bitch, white or black, that anybody ever done seen, much less put they dick into. I'm sellin' these niggas on they self."

She frowned and looked a question at him. He smiled that cocky grin of his and expanded his answer, "Baby girl, you soooo fine, and sexy, and wild that any man, white or black, gotta have his confidence boosted if he wanna really relax and have fun with you. So, I let 'em know that you really want 'em, that is you want their cocks, despite the fact that we charge 'em outta the ass. It helps 'em enjoy and appreciate you and they all want to come back. Remind me to show you the waitin' list that's been buildin' up."