Cuming Of Age Phils Pov Ch 01

"May I have some water...Sir?" She barely whispered the request, her face scrunched from tasting her piss.

"Greg? Could you do us a favor and get the cunt more water? I want to keep capturing this."

He moved from her side, out of the frame. I ignored him as he passed me, keeping my focus on her emotions. She had let go, but I could sense her old self just under the surface. I could see it on her face. "What are you, Robbie?"

She didn't look up from the deck, her legs spread open, hands on her butt cheeks spreading herself, her cunt lips moist from peeing, the sun glinting off her curls. So miserable, but...something else. Peace. She closed her eyes, and I watched her muscles relax. "I'm your cum slut, Sir." She said it as if she was telling me her name. Like she was introducing herself to a stranger. It...I couldn't have asked for anything better...the tape was rolling.

"Not quite, Robbie." Like breaking a wire hanger. Not 10 minutes ago she was begging me to spank her and declaring how she was

my

cum slut.

She looked up confused just as Greg stepped passed me and re-entered the scene. She put her lips over the glass and tipped her head back, pushing down as he helped tip it for her, careful not to let it overflow onto her chest. I stared at the scene through the camera: his consideration, his care, the concern about spilling some water on her...something felt off.

As he continued to help her, I whipped through the past several minutes, days, like a highlight reel: Greg's recounting of Saturday night, her humiliation then and now, peeing, stripped bare, giving in. Sunday, at her house, her obedience, her submission. I watched him treating her...gently...as if she needed it. A dozen ideas flashed past me: chivalry (stupid kids, maybe he thought she was a damsel in distress), freaking out he'd need to punish her and he wasn't into it (maybe...maybe he didn't get how much she wanted it), naiveté (but that wasn't new -- he had no idea how to wield the power I'd given him).

And then it hit me: he was falling in love. He was mixing up power with love, maybe, but he had been smitten, and who wouldn't? An unapproachable, beautiful, smart young woman is stripped naked and sucks his cock on a whim? Sheesh. He probably stayed up at night, lying in bed, jerking himself off, just trying to get his head around it. Yep, less than a week in and he was falling in love. An interesting twist, the realization made me smile: even as he was falling for her, Robbie had given up on him. I could tell she was comparing Greg to me and he didn't measure up. Time to fix that.

"A cum slut, Robbie.

A

cum slut. Not

my

cum slut." I looked up at Greg. "She doesn't want water. She wants to suck your cock." He pulled the glass away and set it down on the deck.

She looked at me, her eyes widening and then back at Greg's hands, already at his zipper. I was betting on his 18 year old cock to get erect, and he didn't disappoint. I moved forward, zooming in on her face. She leaned forward and licked his balls, his shaft swelling against her upper lip. I could imagine she was smelling herself, her juices coating his dick from their recent fuck. She moved to the seam of his sack, sucking it in, working her way up to the base of his shaft, wrapping her lips around its base, pushing it up against her nose. I circled around, pulling back, catching the back of her head, showing what a good little whore she'd become: keeping her ass cheeks spread open, her elbows pointing back, her slit still glistening. Moments later she lifted up and slipped over his swelling head, sucking him into his mouth, semi-hard, pushing down against him, gagging as he came to rest against the back of her tongue.

She stopped, getting her breath under control, her stomach heaving. It was priceless video. I could barely wait to get downstairs with it. She kept her eyes open, staring up at him, sideways trying to see me and cross-eyed at his dick getting thicker. She began to piston faster, just like she'd been practicing and in moments she was rewarded with his hands pushing against the back of her head, grunting as he jerked his sperm down her throat. Tears overflowed the corners of her eyes as she worked to suppress her gag reflex, her throat working to squeeze the last crème out of him.

"Time to get to work." I stood up, eager to get the latest scene into place. "You've got some boxes to finish up. And I'm not happy with where you put 'em. Please arrange them in a way I can get to them and get around them. The way they are, I can't get through the room,

and

I can't look in 'em. Amazing. That level of incompetence's got to be worth something..." They separated, Robbie gasping for breath while Greg pulled off his clothes, ignoring my sarcastic muttering. I walked down to the basement.

* - * - * - *

Robbie, I knew, had been accepted into every school she'd applied to, several of them with a free ride. She was an athlete

and

had a spectacular mind. She'd been fretting about a career. Fuck! She wasn't even out of high school. I felt bad for these kids. So much pressure. Pre-med was a possibility, but she wasn't sure. I knew biology wouldn't be a problem for her, and she certainly wasn't squeamish about bodily fluids. So, sure, pre-med. Why not? But she knew it would mean a huge commitment, and she wasn't sure that's what she wanted. I laughed quietly when she mused about being a lawyer. In retrospect, I figured why not that either? She had no respect for the law, at least in terms of her parents' laws, so why not take up law?

Over the prior weeks, before this transformation, she had been discussing her college plans, as if I was a buddy. When she cleaned around me, and I didn't need to concentrate too hard, she'd go into excruciating details about each of her schools. I wasn't sure what was more adorable: her misguided notion I gave a shit, or the fact she was doing it completely naked.

I uploaded the file and opened the project, thinking about how to spring it on her. I still had weeks of work to do, but if the piece had been ready that day,

she

wouldn't have been ready to see it. I paused for a moment, thinking about her progress: She'd shifted; she'd started to understand this was her nature, that maybe it wasn't a summer fling, a rebellious act against her parents. I could see in her a growing acceptance of who she was: a prostitute. For her inheritance, she was willing to debase herself in ways she had never imagined. But there was still a hope that once she was free of me, she could put it behind her. I could see the struggle on her face as I reviewed the images. It didn't fit into her life plan...at least as far as she'd gone in getting a life plan. Summer. College. Fuck around. Get a degree. Collect her money. Have sex somewhere in there. Meet someone.?.?. As smart as she was, she hit the fog; she couldn't make any better sense of the future than the rest of us. What did it mean she was a slut? Really a slut. Not just like her friends said it about other girls at school. But really one...as in exchanging sex for money...for a living. She hadn't turned that corner yet. But I knew she'd already crossed that line and in the next few months she'd realize there was no going back.

Even more specifically, she had only just realized she was a cum slut. She had just drunk her own urine and then eagerly sucked her want-to-be-boyfriend; she hadn't stopped or protested. She just did it, and as I looked at her face in the clip, I searched for any sign she was struggling. I couldn't see it. Acceptance. Peace. She was a cum slut, a servant to the next-door neighbor. What was she going to do next? What would happen at college? Would she beg to have her professor shove his cock down her throat? Had she really accepted this as her new self? If she had even thought that far ahead; she was probably still getting over the shock of the last few weeks. But I was way ahead of her, and I had plans.

Doctor? Lawyer? Forget that. Those were too abstract, too far in the future. And besides, she had time to figure that out. Right now, this summer, she was blossoming into the person she clearly needed to be.

I watched them on the monitor moving the boxes, again. His cock and her breasts swinging as they lifted and heaved. And then turned my attention back to her drinking her own piss, her face, scrunched from the smell, but not in protest. Her red-gold thatch, her body open, tight and young.

I looked at the collection of snippets from the past few weeks. There were nearly a hundred. It was her face that crushed it. It was going to be amazing. Her face, from the first week, until now, a picture in misery, innocence and resignation to a portrait of acceptance and peace. That transformation was the ticket, a pivot around which her nakedness and submission would be mere ornament. I sent off an email to a buddy, suggesting I might have something of interest.

"Sir?"

I looked up from the screens. She stood in the door, across the room, face down, waiting. Shit she was beautiful. Now, so fucking vulnerable. "You done?"

She nodded, her hands behind her head, her breasts bobbing a little.

"Greg here?"

She nodded, tossing her head slightly behind her.

"Greg?!"

"Yes, Mr. T. I'm right here."

"She give you any trouble? You guys really done this time?" I'd been watching them. It was more to keep her down.

"No, and Yes, Mr. T. It's all done." He had walked past her into the room.

"She give you any more head?" I smiled.

"Nope," he looked at me and then at her. He looked back, raising an eyebrow.

I shrugged. Why not? She probably needed it, had been craving it since her submission. "But don't let her swallow this time."

He turned to her and said something quietly. Without hesitation she knelt down and quckly got his cock into her mouth. In moments, it seemed to me, she was gurgling him down her throat. He pulled out and sprayed her face with a few globs of his cum. It wasn't much. Shit, he'd just fucked her holes not an hour ago. From her position, she could see me watching her, knew I was watching her, and knew I knew she wanted me to watch her.

"So," I got up as Greg wiped his cock head on her cheek. "What do I owe you?"

We all walked upstairs; Greg retrieved his clothes while Robbie waited in the front hall, I continued to the next floor to get my cash. When I came back, she was kneeling, her ass on her heels, her legs spread, her hands behind her back. His jism, at least the globs that hadn't dripped onto her breasts, had started to dry on her face.

"I saw it in a movie," Greg said, standing off to one side. "I think it's better the slut sits that way when she's not servicing anyone, don't you?" He sounded pompous and stupid, just exactly as I would have asked if we'd rehearsed it. Her eyes were leaking, and she sobbed a little. Her crush. The guy she wanted to have a romantic relationship with. She'd lost it, all to save her precious cash. I smiled thinly. Her training would change, now that she'd bottomed out and given up. Less pain, less humiliation. Now that she'd stopped playing around, it was time to up her game. And time to stop whatever he was feeling for her.

"Hey," I gave him the envelope, and he moved to leave. "I might need you again. You available?"

He smiled, looking down at her.

"I don't want you going out with her for a little while. 'Kay?"

He looked up, surprised. "Whaaah? Why not?" Why should we...What?" He couldn't fathom it.

"Do me a favor. Till the end of the month. She's entering a new phase in her training..."

She flinched at the words.

"...and it would be both confusing and distracting if she was fucking you while she was learning her new skills. That work for you?"

I wasn't really asking his permission, but I wanted him to feel like he was part of the team. He didn't have to listen to me. He could go off and ask her out anytime. But he probably figured I'd find out, and I still had something on him. I watched his face, seeing the gears turn.

"Sure," he said, opening the front door. "Let me know when her holes are available. I think I'd like to take her back to my brothers and watch 'em gang bang her." He smiled and slipped out.

Her eyes were puffy, and she looked miserable. I knelt down next to her, my hands softly stroking her breasts, purposely avoiding her nipples. "You thought you had a chance with him?" I was gentle.

She nodded, crying.

"What are you?" Gentle again.

"Your cum slut, Sir."

"No," I shook my head, still stroking her, my finger sliding into her slit.

She recovered, remembering the lesson from an hour before. "

A

cum slut, Sir."

"That's right. Robbie. Not

my

cum slut.

A

cum slut. And you're going to get better at it, just like I've been promising you." I held my hands just above her breasts on the smooth skin sloping from her chest, the threat of teasing her nipples ever present. I rubbed Greg's cum into her skin.

She sobbed and sniffled a little.

"But the punishments and rewards are going to change a little."

She sniffled, trying not to look at my face.

"You've been a real trooper. You've worked hard to let go, and I'm really proud of you."

She quieted a little, her breathing approaching normal.

"No shaving from now on. Okay?"

She nodded, confused.

"Not under your arms, your legs, and definitely not your cunt. Yeah?"

She nodded, wincing at the word.

"Get dressed. See you Thursday." I stood up, letting my fingertips slide up her chest to her chin.

* - * - * - *

Phyl called the next day.

"Phil?"

"Phyl?"

"Hey," she said with a little concern. "I...I don't know how to tell you this...or...not tell...but..." She stopped.

"What's going on Phyl? Just tell me. Whatever it is." I mentally froze, not knowing where I'd take the conversation if she went where I thought she was going.

"About Sunday?"

Sunday? What happened on Sunday?

"Yeah," she let out a sigh. "I was so wasted...were you?"

"Yeessss?" Where was she going?

"I just...I don't know. Is something going on between you and Robbie?" The last sentence whooshed out as if it was one word.

I started laughing. I'm not sure why. Probably because I was so keyed up, but I was happy I did. It was a sincere, full body laugh. Phyllis knew I wasn't faking it. She started laughing sympathetically for a moment. It was that infectious. But I got it under control quickly.

"Shit, Phyllis." I whooted a remaining laugh, sucking in air. "What in god's name made you think that?"

"I don't know," she was a little embarrassed. I could sense she was relieved, too. "The way she looked at you. You going back up to see her at the end of the night...I don't know."

"Yeah, I was a little worried about that. I shouldn't have done it. I had drunk too much. Poor judgment on my part. Oh shit! Phyl? Robbie didn't say anything to you, did she? Did I do anything to make her uncomfortable? Shit!"

"NO! Oh god no, Phil. I'm sorry. No! Not at all. She didn't say a thing, and please! Don't even hint to her I said something to you! Like I said, I had too much to drink. But it was fun, Phil. And I'd do it again."

I let the silence hang for a second, not sure if she was done. My heart wasn't hammering, sure, that wasn't what I was feeling. Fuck if it wasn't loud enough for her to hear.

"But hey," her tone brightening. "That's not why I called you in the first place!"

I waited, my heart still pounding at this near miss. If she'd pursued it, I was going to flat out lie: there was nothing going on between us, when all I could see was image after image of her with my cock down her throat, or spread open and exposed. I saw it in my head: except for my cock, there really wasn't anything between us...except my camera.

"Sorry...what?"

"...reason I called was to see if you'd keep an eye on the house. Bob and I are heading to the coast again for a few days. The 23rd through the 25th." When I hadn't responded she jumped in. "Oh shoot! You're busy. I'm sorry. It's okay..."

"Phyl...it's okay. Hold on. I was just looking at my calendar. It's no problem. I've got nothing that weekend. I'll be here. Like the last time? No parties. All quiet?"

She made small talk and thanked me again for making dinner.

The 23rd was just a little over two weeks away. Well, that gave me a deadline at least. Two weeks. I mentally shuffled through the remaining tasks. If I sprinted for the next day or so, I could probably get the sequence roughed in, maybe partially finished. I shook my head, looking over the task list again. Finish the sequence by early next week, work on the sound, credits and final polish. A week for all of that...plus a few days. I looked at my work calendar. It looked light, not something I usually was happy about, but this was an investment in the future. I figured those two weeks of work would turn into two years of income.

* - * - * - *

Two weeks. I began to think about preparations. Then I got down to work. I worked almost all night that Wednesday until I dragged myself to bed, waking up an hour or two later to the alarm. As I had cut and merged and softened and sequenced, I had looked up at the screen into her room. Each time she moved or walked in or out, it caught my eye. Naked, slipping the robe off the hook, slipping it on. Coming back in. Slipping the robe off. Her mom was probably home. She unconsciously rubbed her legs, probably feeling the hairs coming in. I'd catch her lifting her arm and looking to see if anything had changed.

I knew she was self-conscious about having her hair grow in. It was part of the shift: she would need to let go of her own definition of what made her beautiful. She was beautiful because her john thought she was beautiful. When she came over that Thursday, I had several European porn magazines laid out on the kitchen counter. I picked them because they were clearly not American; they resonated with a different vibe.

"Before you get started on the bathrooms, I want you to look at those carefully. Take your time. If anything hits you as particularly interesting or arousing, show it to me." I left to get a camera and tri-pod. When I came back she had sat down, half-way through the first one.

"These are really weird," she said, stopping at a full page spread. "Fuckkk..." She exhaled at the shot.

I peeked over her shoulder. A woman, in hip-high black leather boots, suspended face down, not quite vertically, not quite horizontally at waist height, her breasts, naked and suspended, her legs pulled taught, spread open by ropes, her arms cuffed in black leather with studs, pulled high behind her, forcing her head down. It was a 3/4 profile shot, her mouth and throat filled by a cock attached to a guy with the best set of buns I'd ever seen, his hands holding her head back. Her ass was being filled by a black dude, holding her hips, and she was being drilled by another guy, lying on a coffee table. There was no way she was enjoying herself.

"That one?" I whispered in her ear.

She nodded, not tearing her eyes away.

"Show me."

She held the page up for me to look at.

"No," I laughed quietly. "I can see

that

. Show me."

She blushed for a moment, not at my demand, but at her stupidity and spread her legs wide open. I grabbed a camera and moved across the table from her, shooting from underneath.

"You want me to put my fingers up my...cunt...sir?" She asked it like a young student asking her teacher for guidance.

I nodded.

"You want me to fuck my hot, wet cunt with two of my fingers...Sir? Or...three?" The noise from her two fingers made a great soundtrack, but her moaning as she pushed the third one in was exquisite. It was the first time she had used that word, and the significance wasn't lost on either of us.