Boo of the Whore

Introduction:

Lorelei, that is my show name, or Lori as some call me. I am soon to be little more than a corpse ditched in an out of the way place. Whilst I await my most needed end I decided I would write here what led me to my circumstances. Firstly, before I go into my encounter with the grimoire, I shall give you briefly my background.

Prostitute, hooker, harlot, whore. Choose your word, it is what I am. Unlike many in that profession, I chose the life of prostitution. Unusually hormonal at a young age, I was more interested in what lay between people's legs than my studies. Whilst this attitude, combined with my beauty, made me popular at school, it meant I achieved little in the way of grades. Yet this mattered little, for I already knew and planned what I would do.

My father, naturally, was much grieved by this. We argued furiously and I moved out to a small flat as an act of rebellion. My mother had died when I was young, apparently she had many mental issues and committed suicide. This left me as his only family, which is why, despite ignoring his threats and beginning my career, he cherished my frequent visits. Although we disagreed and still argued over my chosen path, I too loved my father and did not want him to get lonely.

Prostitution is legal in my country (which I shall not write here lest it help locate the grimoire and it fall to one unworthy). I went it alone without a pimp/manager, and rented out a small room for my trade.

Naturally I had dreams of becoming one of those much sought after and expensive courtesans, however it seemed that although I was the most beautiful at school, compared to those higher up in this industry I was rather mediocre. So I began to accept my lot as a common sex worker, I earned little but enough to get by, until a cold night in January...

I looked out of the door of my place of work, more a large window than a door, with shock and horror at who looked in.

It was a freezing night, thankfully it had not snowed yet. Yet it drove away customers and made for a rather quiet and unprofitable night. As usual I dressed in my lingerie and showed my wares to the passersby, most of them just tourists browsing the place than actual customers. I had begun to consider stopping early, until the woman strode up and knocked so hard she nearly cracked the glass.

She smiled flirtatiously at me, and I might have suspected a female customer had I not known her. I met her briefly once about two years ago, when I had one of those rare opportunities of acting as an escort at a party. Her name was Aeda (her escort name). I admired her greatly as soon as I saw her, achingly beautiful, she had that feline grace that caught every man's eye and set my heart racing. I was amazed when she took an interest in me, she asked me about my experience as a prostitute earnestly and seemed to almost admire me. It was a night I recalled fondly, but I never saw her again.

Until now, where she stood out in the street completely naked, covered in fluids who people like me were all too familiar with, holding a book under one arm. She stared at me both seductively and feverishly. I half considered locking the door and calling the bouncers.

Yet even in that state she had that noble air that set my heart racing. I found myself opening the door and beckoning her in out of the cold.

"Thank you dear, I shan't be long. Do not wish to keep you from your business." She casually sat at the bed, apparently not caring how the fluids stained the sheets, and smiled at me.

I stuttered for a moment, her husky voice set my pulse racing faster and I had to control myself, "Aeda? What happened to you?"

"Many delightful things." She purred, "But I have an appointment I must not miss, so I shall get to the point." She held the book out to me, it was clothed in black leather, "For you."

Puzzled, I took the rather slim tome and looked at the front cover. Whoever did the binding had put a lot of effort into it, for it was a beautiful thing. There was a picture which delighted me in how it played with my mind. I am not sure how it worked, but there was a picture of a naked and beautiful woman, not too dissimilar to Aeda. Yet if I tilted it slightly the picture became a charming rose with a very deep red but black stalk with thorns. The title perplexed me, "Lyber Luppa?"

Aeda gave a throaty chuckle and gave me the correct pronunciation, "Translates as Book of the Whore. Fear not, the rest of the text is nearly all in your language. It is a manual for those in our trade, and more, trust me it will lead you to the heights you once dreamed of."

I had met her once briefly, why she presumed to know my dreams was beyond me then. I looked at the back of the book, it had a crystal clear mirror fixed there. I looked at my own reflection and felt that longing kindle vaguely, that desire to reach the higher echelons of my trade. I looked back at Aeda, "Thank you, but that does not explain what happened to you. Are you hurt? Why are you here?"

Aeda stood and indicated the book, "I am here to give you this boon. Forgive me but I can stay no longer." With that she embraced me, I cringed slightly as I felt the sticky fluids against me, but it was swiftly overwhelmed by the thrill of having her body against me. It was remarkable how warm she was, after walking naked in the freezing night. I smelled a faint trace of what I now know was rose and sandalwood. "It is not you they see." She whispered lovingly and cryptically into my ear.

Even more confused, I tried to talk her into staying, tried to find out what happened, but she had none of it. She gently dismissed my pleas and made her way back down the street. I called after her, asked where she is going. "Home." It was all she said as she left me. I stared after her, walking in that confident way, until she disappeared from my sight.

Shaken by the encounter, I drew the curtains to be alone awhile. I sat on the bed, feeling the warmth of where Aeda had been, and studied the book. I opened it, the pages were all of high quality paper, but old and somewhat coloured. Fortunately the words were still legible.

I smiled as I read the first chapter. This part was not a manual, it was a poetic prose declaring the beauty of sex workers. In a world where those such as myself are treated as filthy and shameful, it was lovely to see someone write of us in such a positive way. I went home after the first chapter, feeling better than I had in a long time about my chosen trade.

Experiences with chapter one of Liber Lupa:

"Every Whore is a Rose" - Liber Lupa

It was a while before I could read the next chapter of Liber Lupa. Not because I did not want to, but because I was suddenly so busy.

The day after the encounter with Aeda I woke up feeling better than I had in a long time. That chapter had motivated me greatly, it felt good that there were those out there who appreciated those like me. Due to human traffic and those poor women forced to whore themselves, prostitution was given a bleak image and shrouded those like me who treated it as an art.

When I went to work later I was pleasantly surprised how many clients chose me over the others. It made for a busy, but profitable night. It was helped by how I was hornier than usual, which I assumed was because of my improved outlook on life.

I began to get more and more repeat clients. Some even came to the district solely to buy my services. Aware that such an increase in demand could be temporary, I booked my room for longer hours and worked on. Of course I became rather chafed in certain areas from overuse, but I worked on in fear that the next day the requests could drop once more. I had more requests for the more expensive acts, along with some I had to outright refuse. How ignorant I was back then!

I met my father every day for dinner, at one point he remarked how much healthier I looked. I had noticed this myself. Before the grimoire I would look in the mirror each morning and see all the tiny imperfections that made me feel not ugly, but not exquisitely beautiful either. However since that fateful night my cold relationship with the mirror changed and I found myself taking more time with applying make-up and adding the fine details.

By the end of January, the moment I feared finally happened. Body still aching and sore from overuse, I made my way to the district and offered myself for coin again. Despite the aches I was still rather horny and applied myself eagerly. Yet I had not one customer.

Although I never had time to read it, I found myself taking the grimoire as a lucky charm with me each night. The mirror on the back also proved very handy when I had to quickly redo my cosmetics. Since I was having little luck, I spent the rest of the evening taking in the next chapter.

Experiences with chapter two of Liber Lupa:

"Ahi Hay Lilitu!" - Liber Lupa

The next chapter was more manual-like in that it told how whores should exercise to better perform their craft. Some of it I knew already, but there were some things that were new. It also gave meditation methods which I rarely had the patience for. Yet the book spoke to its reader on the topic with such enthusiasm that I found myself practicing the techniques. Even the strange mantra it said I should whisper every morning and night. It called the mantra a devotion and mainly had requests to a deity as yet unknown to me to help me on my path. It ended with a word thrice after saying something that was not of any language I knew. Yet I did feel a lot more energised and motivated when I said it. It also flared my passion and made me more eager to work. I had always thought little of meditation, never being able to concentrate long enough to do it. Yet this one came naturally to me.

That night proved to be simply unfortunate. The next day was the busiest night I had yet. Demand grew each day to the point that I had to consider taking a break to let my poor body recover. Yet, by following the exercises, meditation and performing the devotion unfailingly, I noticed my body began to change. Despite the longer hours and increased effort required of me, the sores faded and I no longer ached as I had done. Indeed by the next day I felt as refreshed as though I had done nothing the night before. If anything, my vagina flared more than ever with eagerness.

A week into my practices I was to meet my father at a café for breakfast. When I sat down he seemed puzzled, then laughed. He apologised and said he did not recognise me. He asked if I had bought new make-up, and jokingly said it was probably his old age.

I knew this was not the case. I had also noticed the slight changes as I looked in the mirror every day. My hair was the first thing I noticed, it seemed to change its hue slightly. My eyes were also somewhat different. But I was pleased with the changes, I hardly noticed imperfections like I used to and saw a healthy and radiant woman staring at me. Truly those exercises were a marvel!

I got lucky when a client turned out to be a porn director. I eagerly accepted his offer to star in videos and, thanks to the wonderful tool that is the internet, was amazed at how popular I was so quickly. The money flowed in and I could finally move to a more spacious apartment, as well as indulge in treats such as fine wine, something I had found a taste for.

As February drew to a close I made it back home from my latest recording. I had booked my room to offer myself that night and dressed in my lingerie to head down. Rather than dressing whilst there I liked to walk down in my outfit, it thrilled to have the others gaze at me lustfully as I did so. I picked up my book and got ready to leave, then halted at the front door. It seemed selfish really, the book had done all this for me and still I had not read more. Not that I did not want to, I had grown up in school with an aversion to books, so to find one that so engrossed me was a new delight. It was just that I was so busy. I decided to sacrifice a night for my wonderful tome.

I poured myself some Cru red and settled myself on my new sofa. I opened the book and took in the next chapter.

Experiences with chapter three of Liber Lupa:

"Spread your legs to the world, turn none away, and you shall be the lowest yet the highest."

- Liber Lupa

I had to give my apologies to my father frequently. More porn directors requested my services with good money. I had to travel frequently to be recorded in a variety of different locations to suit the scenario. Fortunately my role never changed. Whatever the poor storyline, I woodenly gave my lines then eagerly spread my legs, just as the book had told me.

It had gone into the importance of mirrors, which explained the mirror bound to the back of it. That those such as I should appraise oneself via such a tool frequently. This I did anyway. But it then went back into its poetic prose on the glory of spreading one's legs. Usually I would have seen such a thing as silly. Yet it argued the symbolic importance of it so well I could not help but be convinced by it. Whereas before I would outright refuse some acts I began to experiment and accepted some practices.

I began to take it in the ass more, the supposedly taboo act of it exciting me. I would allow them to slap me and fuck me roughly. I even occasionally accepted not using a condom for the right price.

However, because I had to travel, I could not offer myself in the rented room I had often used, being some distance away.

I surprised myself when I found myself walking the street where I stayed, wearing very little, and offering my services. Once I would never have dared been a street prostitute, yet I flared with such passion I found myself doing so and impatiently seeking clients.

I noticed that, although I was hornier than ever, it became harder to orgasm. I had to be fucked hard to find release and even then the reprieve did not last long. Yet I accepted this, since it helped me stay in the right state of mind for my profession.

I decided to offer myself as an escort. Since demand for me had grown it seemed financially prudent to offer myself as such to the more wealthy clients. A website designer kindly set up a page for me, in return for me for the night of course. I invested in a computer and began organising the huge amount of messages sent to me. I had set a high price for myself, now more confident of my worth, and was amazed at the demand that still rocketed. I attended the kind of luxurious parties that I had only dreamed of before.

I still found time for my daily exercises however. I was shocked when I looked in the mirror one morning and saw a woman I barely recognised. My curves were far more accentuated than they had been, my breasts had swelled considerably, my hair had a sort of reddish tinge and my eyes were greener. I also missed my period that month, I took the necessary precautions.

Reflecting on how fast and different the past three months had been, I had a night at long last where I had no appointments and no prior engagements to attend. My vagina still flared and I yearned for release, but knew I should have a night to myself. I saw my book, always with me, lying invitingly on the table. I treated myself to a limited wine that had cost hundreds to acquire, curled up on the bed and began to read.

Experiences with chapter four of Liber Lupa:

"No greater than a single coin they accepted, for to be used in Her name was payment enough."

-Liber Lupa

I watched the owl suspiciously as it watched me being fucked in the park. As I did so I could not help but reflect on the chapter I was up to in the grimoire. Usually history lessons bored me but this one positively enticed me. It told of an ancient empire called Sumeria and its temple priestesses. It briefly mentioned those dedicated to a goddess called Ishtar, but went into detail into a smaller following that worshipped a goddess termed ki-sikil-lil-la-ke. The name was strange to me and meant little, but the practices it discussed had me wet with enthusiasm.

It mentioned how other places talk of maiden-mother-crone, but that this triad was not for these priestesses. They followed their own triad of maiden-harlot-corpse, that they would obsessively seek to be used and spread their legs to anyone, desperate to be used in the name of their goddess. Apparently they were chosen by the goddess herself and trod the path of whoredom with Her guidance. I also noted that they never took more than a coin for their services, the coin symbolising their harlotry, the low value symbolising their availability. It also gave other symbols of their goddess, such as certain owls.

Naturally I did not have the luxury of taking only a single coin as payment all the time. Yet in following the grimoire I had accomplished more than I had ever dreamed. I decided to meet halfway and offer such a low cost to the occasional client.

As the man came the owl shrieked at me, approvingly it almost seemed, and flew away. I had woken more lustful than ever and before I knew it I was in the park wearing nothing but my knickers. The first man I came across, a grubby male who was likely homeless, I gave myself to for a mere copper.

I confess being such a cheap whore thrilled me more than ever.

Yet I also began to have doubts, started by looking in the mirror one day.

When I looked in the mirror I saw someone I did not recognise. The image even seemed to shift slightly of its own accord. If I took some of my long hair round I would see the colour I had known throughout my life. Looking in the mirror, however, I would see a luxurious auburn mane. My eyes were undoubtedly malachite. My skin was perfect alabaster. My breasts full and body voluptuous.

When I looked down at myself, I struggled to see the same body. Unsure of the book now, and remembering the state I saw Aeda in, I decided to leave the book alone for a while. "It is not you they see." She had said. Speaking of whom, she appeared on the news. Her body was found in a ditch. I would have been intrigued as to how the corpse looked and how she died, but the report revealed no more beyond the fact she was dead and displayed old photos of her, I was shocked at how the woman in the photos looked nothing like her. In fact, the woman in the mirror looked more like her.

My father struggled to recognise me at all now, and seemed flustered when with me, probably because of my attire than my new look.

I could not stand wearing much clothing now, I felt hot and constrained when I did. No matter the weather I wore more to reveal than to hide. Even when doing simple tasks such as going to the shops for milk. Feeling the lustful and disapproving eyes roaming me felt wonderful and exacerbated my lusts no end. I started thinking of myself as being for sex and sex alone. I began seeing sex as the one truth and one purpose in my life. No matter how often I fornicated my body was ready to take the next one, as though remoulded for this purpose. Achieving orgasm was harder now, also, and I began to be more open to more distasteful acts to do so. Acts that I found bored rich people to be rather into.

I continued my escort service, as busy as ever if not more. Yet I was shocked at one party where a fight broke out between two men over me. Apparently one had sought to book me and was furious when he saw the one who had got me first. I am no expert on fights, but I am sure they would have killed one another had the other guests not intervened. Although rather bruised and cut, my client still took me home and appreciated my skill.

Another night came when, no matter how hard I tried, I could find no one to use me. No amount of masturbation helped. I used the internet, walked the streets. My lust flared and I was so desperate I put on a one night offer on my web page, of having my services for free.