Love and Betrayal

The events in Henley's Scrapyard left Becci wrecked with guilt. In some ways she was childlike, and in her mind she sought to deflect blame. Yes, she had got behind the wheel of her car drunk, only to crash into a listed property. But Henley had taken advantage of her predicament, and she was in too much of a panic to negotiate any limits. By the time she realised how far they intended to take things, it all would have been for nothing had she refused the next in line.

Her thoughts turned to Paul; although she desperately did not want to hurt him, he was not blameless either. He had left her alone and besides he cheated first. Suddenly she found a renewed focus on his infidelity before their wedding. It wasn't her fault, not really, not entirely.

Paul was furious when she explained why she couldn't pick him up at the airport, and that she hadn't and couldn't submit an insurance claim. The only part of the deal she confessed to him was surrendering their car in return for discrete recovery. Becci begged him not to go to Henley's to secure the vehicle for inspection. It wasn't worth the risk; all of his workmen had seen the state she was in. They could testify against her and she could still be charged or even arrested! Besides, she signed the contract and completed and posted her part of the vehicle registration to Henley.

The truth was she was terrified of what might happen if Paul found out what she had let them do to her. He may never look at her the same way again, he might even leave her. Recognition that she had let history repeat itself, giving herself to strangers, hit her. Suddenly she blurted out, "You blame me, but what if you had never cheated? None of this would have happened."

Paul was confused and transiently dumbstruck. Through defiant tears she accused him, "I found the photos of you on your stag with that girl."

Suddenly that much at least made sense. He held her tightly as she pushed against him, "Oh Becci, surely you know I wouldn't, I couldn't cheat on you! You must have been torturing yourself, if only you had said something sooner."

Everything in his manner, the way he spoke and his tender concern for her seemed so honest. Becci melted into his strong arms, sobbing. She stammered, "But, but I... I know what I saw."

She was shaking and confused as he opened his phone and tapped on the folder brazenly titled stag, "You mean these photos?" The sight of him sucking the little whore's ample tits triggered the same pain again, just as visceral as before. "That's me, that's another girl, but that's not my stag! I hadn't even met you then." He pulled her hands from her face and demanded she look closely. "Remember you asked about the scar on my back? Well there's the suspicious mole the doctor removed."

It was there, dark and irregular, how had she not seen it? She was consumed by the horrific reality of what this meant. She had had sex Nick and John, horribly staged in a vain act of revenge before her wedding. Everything else had spiralled from that act. She had been spiteful and vengeful, but she was the only one at fault. Perhaps if things had been different she would have been in a better mental state last weekend; she may never have driven drunk and crashed, or at least had the strength to refuse Henley's demands. She felt like her heart had stopped.

Paul had never seen her so distraught. "You see? You do understand?" Becci couldn't speak. Silent tears tumbled freely down her cheeks. She just managed to nod. "Please, please stop crying, you know I love you... Is it the car? Forget it, it's OK sweetheart, it's OK."

Over the coming days Becci was attentive to Paul, but an emotional wreck. She struggled to come to terms with her betrayal, her guilt and her secrets. She couldn't risk losing him by confessing, but she had to make it up to him. She decided to give herself entirely to him. She could do this. She must do this.

Paul beamed as she walked into the lounge in pigtails and a slutty version of her old school uniform. Her blouse was tied around her waist, exposing her midriff, with the top buttons undone. Her skirt was rolled up so the hem fell just below her bum, and for the finishing touches her little b-cup tits were squeezed into an undersized bra, and she was wearing little white panties and lace ankle socks.

Becci looked uncertain and apologetic, sucking her lower lip. She spoke hesitantly, "Sir, I've been such a very, very naughty girl... I let those horrid boys do the most disgusting things to me!" His depraved and imaginative little girl was back!

Becci lowered her panties and lay across his knee, concealing a smile as she felt his erection. "Spank me Sir... Spank my naughty little tush!" Paul started playfully, but she kept pleading, "Hit me harder, properly! I deserve it." Eventually he cracked, raining slap after slap down on her perk buttocks until both glowed crimson.

Paul's gentle kiss on her marked flesh triggered both a smile and tears. She climbed around on his knee, "I let them put their tongues in my mouth... like this... hmm..." A passionate French kiss followed, her arms and legs wrapped around him. She pushed his hand down to her pussy, "I let them put their fingers inside me..." She gasped, "Oh! But you're touch is so... so much better!"

Climbing down to kneel before him she freed his cock and looked up into his eyes, "They made me do this too... I didn't want to... I promise I didn't." Her gentle mouth enveloped his bulging glans, her tongue swirling around it, desperately trying to please. "Their things... they all looked slimy and horrid... but yours is intoxicating! Hmm, so warm and hard..." She began to take him deeper and deeper until finally his glans slid into her throat. She slowly rocked back and forth, rubbing the sensitive triangle under his glans against the back of her tongue. Warm, moist and slightly rougher, it felt incredible.

Suddenly Paul yanked her head off his twitching cock. Becci, bleary eyed and breathless, briefly managed to dive back down to slurp the precum oozing from the tip, before he pulled her onto the floor and forced her pale thighs open. The lust in his eyes burnt into her. She could barely conceal her relief and joy as she cowered.

Paul pounced on her. With, "Did they put their cocks in here?" he thrust into her soaking pussy to the hilt.

She gasped, "I'm a vir... virgin... Was a... Oh... Ohh!" He was like a beast unleashed as he pounded her delicate little pussy. Each lunge sent a jolt through her body, leaving carpet burns on her back. Breathless she stammered, "You can... pu.. put it... cum in my bum."

A slap stung her face, "I tell you where I'm going to cum... little slut." He held her head pressed to his chest with both hands, firmly anchoring her and almost smothering her as he continued to slam into her. Suddenly pulse after pulse of cum filled her as he collapsed on top of her. "Oh Becci I've missed you these past few days!"

A few weeks passed before Becci was emotionally ready for the next step. She explained that she felt responsible for their financial loss. But she could help; they didn't need fancy restaurants, they could play little games together. He just had to tell her what to do and she had to obey, no matter what. She would be his stripper, his lap dancer, his model and exhibitionist, his fuck bunny, his submissive, his whore.

To seal the deal Becci handed him a hard wax kit, "If you pull my pubes out at the root there'll be no stubble, and it'll grow back very fine." She kissed him, then explained the process and stripped for a hot shower. There was barely half an inch of growth on her pussy as Paul carefully washed and dried her. She led him down to the kitchen and perched on the edge of the breakfast table, then lay back.

Paul ran his hands along her legs, lifting each up in turn and spreading them to rest her feet on the back of two chairs, widely spaced either side of him. Her slit was moist and delicate, with small pale pink inner lips, crowned by her clit. He gently caressed her pussy, then applied a little baby powder to absorb any residual moisture and dusted her off. It didn't take long to melt the wax beads in the microwave.

Becci winced as he spread the hot wax over the first section of her pubes and pressed a cloth strip in place. "Ah, ahh, just a little too, too hot!" Her chest was heaving as she braced herself, "Patience daringly, wait a few more seconds... for it to fully harden... Pull my skin taut first."

Paul nearly came as he whipped the cloth off her skin, taking her pubic hair with it. She tensed and yelped, only to then quickly reassure him, "It... it only stings for a few... a few seconds, I'm OK."

Paul continued removing strip after strip of her pubic hair until she was bare and glowing. He couldn't take his eyes off her. His cock was full and throbbing. Becci continued, "Apply a little moisturiser, gently... Ah... Ah yes!"

She unbuttoned his bulging jeans, "Oh how selfish am I? Getting you all bothered when my pussy will need a little more time to recover? Shut me up with your gorgeous cock!"

Paul didn't hesitate. She flicked her tongue back and forth along the underside of his erect penis, then got down on the floor to properly lick his salty balls and work back to encircle his anus. Another act of pure submission.

Paul, surprised but clearly in ecstasy, held her head as the tip of her tongue pressed inside. Working back to his glans, she deep-throated him in a single move, her neck bulging. She eventually pulled free briefly with a wicked grin, only to dive back onto him, cupping his swollen balls in her small delicate hand. He didn't last much longer; she quickly sealed her lips around him to ensure she didn't spill a drop.

The following Saturday Paul took up pride of place in the outside seating area of a bar, then texted his instructions to Becci. She obeyed without hesitation, walking into a service alleyway to remove her bra and panties, and pausing to send photographic confirmation to him. She was only 5'5" in her stocking feet, but Paul had chosen her highest heels for this evening, 120 mm Jimmy Choo stilettos, and she was commanding attention.

Becci slinked down the street like a model on a catwalk, meeting admiring glances with an inviting smile. One strap of her dress was hanging off her shoulder to reveal the delicate curve of her breast, further accentuated by her slim waist. Her skin was pale, but unblemished with a definite glow.

She crossed the road and returned to sit under a streetlight at the foot of a monument opposite the bar, her knees slightly raised. She pretended to be engrossed on her phone, absentmindedly letting her legs fall open. Her pale thighs and bare pink pussy were displayed to those seated outside the bar. Running her hand down the front of her dress, she briefly flashed her nipple. It didn't take long before a few men approached her, but she coyly deflected their amorous advances, while continuing her relatively discreet show.

As Paul finished his pint it he texted Becci, directing her to go to a club infamous for hookups. One strap of her dress was still hanging off her shoulder, and gradually worked its way further down her arm as she walked. The bouncers couldn't resist having a little fun with her before they let her pass.

She phoned Paul leaving the call open, then slipped her mobile into her open shoulder bag with the mic protruding. Paul listened as she ordered a gin at the bar, watching from a distance. It wasn't long before a suave older man approached. In character as planned, Becci looked up at him provocatively, "Oh hi, I, I was expecting someone else, but I may have been stood up." As she turned towards him the edge of her pale pink areola was just visible.

He could barely take his eyes off her partially exposed breast as he openly flirted with her, and took no time before boasting, "I run my own business." He moved closer, "If you don't mind me saying, you're simply gorgeous!" Becci smiled coyly, then blushed slightly as he continued, "I may be a bit older, but I'm very fit. I can cycle 100 miles in a day and I could fuck you all night."

Becci was briefly shocked at his direct approach, but continued to play her role perfectly, "Why I guess you could, but a night would cost you £600, or £1,000 with all extras."

He paused for a few seconds, then continued, "Ah, a working girl... I didn't realise, but all extras sounds... interesting."

Becci leaned towards him and whispered, "Well you might want to spank me, maybe tie me up and clamp my perk little nipples." She lowered her shoulders until her dress was hanging down, allowing him a glimpse of her breasts. "Look how pink they are! And how hard you've made them!"

Becci slid her hand along his inner thigh and whispered, "Some men like to hold my head while they make me deep-throat them, then swallow every drop of their cum." He was clearly flustered as she continued to stoke his thigh, her fingers now glancing his bulging groin.

Becci smiled, "Of course a good old fashioned fuck is a given, but maybe you'd like to finish in my pretty little face? Take pictures of me all dishevelled and plastered in your seed? I still fit in my school uniform, but I can also be your secretary or mistress. Or you could take me to a swinger's party and exchange me for other men's wives? Watch the men gangbang me?"

The stranger's cock was now forming a tent in his chinos. He held her nearest leg in both hands, slipping them up and under her skirt as he whispered, "Yes, yes..." He was now taking liberties, and his hands were within a few inches of her slit.

Paul interjected, placing a hand on his arm, "Sorry, but this young lady has a prior engagement."

The man looked at Paul startled, then at Becci as she slipped free from his grasp. He could only watched as Paul pulled her onto the dance floor. She twerked her ass, openly rubbing her perk cheeks against Paul's groin. As a little tease, she leaned forward, facing the bar, her tits once again clearly visible down her dress. He continued to watch discretely as she pulled Paul over to a dark corner of the club and began to snog him, while running her fingers over the bulge in his jeans.

Paul's hand moved from her tit to between her legs as she kissed his neck and chest. She discretely freed his cock, expertly working it between their bodies as he cupped her breast. Frantically caressing and kissing him, her hungry mouth almost devoured him. He suddenly pressed her head down; she simply took him in her mouth, her head gently bobbing and tongue swirling. She was sucking this bloke off in the corner of a club! Barely a minute later he watched Paul tense as he held the young whore's head; fuck he was cumming in her mouth!

Paul hauled Becci along to the exit, her dress barely covering her, heels clicking behind him and remnants of his cum on her lips. Glancing back to the bar, she managed an embarrassed smile as she quickly left.

It was a warm night and Paul fancied walking home. Becci could only take short steps in her heels, but she did her very best to keep up with his pace. He let her stop by an old church and pulled her into the grounds and adjacent old graveyard, "You look beautiful in the moonlight." Sitting on a bench he whispered, "Strip."

There was only her dress to remove. She unhooked the clasp and lowered the zip, then eased the straps off her shoulders and let the material slid down her body. The flash from his phone camera repeatedly lit her up briefly for the pleasure of those driving by. On his instruction, she lay back on the plinth of an old grave, wincing as her warm body acclimatised to the cold granite. She began to masturbate, sometimes with both hands on her pussy, occasionally pinching and twisting her nipples, and squeezing her breasts. Her pale skin looked perfect against the dark stone.

Paul separated her legs and knelt before her, slowly pressing his hard cock into her. "Fuck me Becci, you do the work." She held the stone and began to slide her pelvis back and forth, taking him into her as deeply as she could, even adding a little circular grinding motion. Between her arousal and the cool air, her nipples felt so hard they were almost painful.

Finally he grabbed her pelvis to secure her and gave her the proper hard fuck she craved, flooding her vagina and womb with his semen. Strands of his cum and her sex juices hung between her pussy and thighs as he led her to the church gates, naked save her heels. With smile he whispered, "I better let you put your dress on, can't have the neighbours knowing what a filthy little slut you are".