Grooming a Whore

We walk out to the car and he drives us around the district. It is run down and the drabness of the buildings is cut through by bursts of garish lights offering sex for sale. I sit beside Will and shiver as I think on the fact I have become part of this scene. I am so wound up from the hours working the booth and desperate for Will to fuck me. I need his cock inside me, and I look at the whore district around me with only a flimsy car door between me and this world. For the first time I contemplate how real this fantasy has become. I have always been shocked at the idea a woman could sell her body for sex and yet I am so hot for Will right now and I know he will flutter banknotes around me for the use of my body. These signs apply to me too.

I should feel appalled and yet I am excited. In fact I am hyper and need to talk, talk about all that has happened to me today in the booth. I have been longing for this moment of confession and it excites me telling him every dirty little detail. I want to let him know what I did all the while imagining he was watching me.

"I call my little friend Frankie." I smile up at him holding the dildo in my hand.

"Oh?"

"Well, while I was performing in that room I got to watching myself in the big window like I was on a giant screen. I imagined I was in Hollywood." We both laugh. He reaches across with his arm.

"Bend over and give me a blowjob as we go home. If you're lucky someone might see what you are up to."

I look at him, feeling so wonderful inside. "I love you." He looks at me a moment.

"I know you do." I reach across and unzip him. I am finding it so much easier to draw him out. Once his cock is out I lean across and swallow him. I love his taste and aroused at the thought of being seen sucking my lover's cock as any whore.

"I bet you're wet at the thought of being seen."

"Mmmmmmm" I moan into his cock before pulling back, "I am always wet when I'm around you."

"Truth is you're always wet around cock, and you don't seem to care much whose it is." His words pinch into me and I feel wounded by them. I think about the afternoon and how excited I have been by knowing there are unknown men watching me. There was truth in his words, however hateful they sounded to me.

"I told you, you have made me into such a complete and utter slut."

"Then get on with your slut duties and suck me off like the other whores around here." My lips sink back down the length of his shaft and my mind replays what he said: 'just like all the other whores around here.' I feel my stomach lurch, could he really find me no different than any whore here? No I know this is part of what we create, but I also know there is nothing really between me and the whores who work here: now I work here too, but only because Will makes me. I need reassurance, I want to make him cum, I want him to spill his seed down the throat of his slut and know he still wants me; to know that it excites him knowing I am performing before those unknown men. I work vigorously at his cock as it grows in my mouth. I haven't paid attention to where we are, I haven't even noticed he has stopped the car. It is only as I hear a woman's voice saying,

"Well I declare. Can you see what she's doing in that car!" that I start to take in my surroundings. I stop and lift my head. Will has parked in the middle of a very public car park outside a shopping mall. We have left the seedy backstreets behind. People are walking right by the car and being a convertible, everyone can see precisely what I am doing.

"Come on, let the neighbours see my whore in action."

I want to die, I want to run away. I know he is forcing my darkest desires out from where I have buried them. Although I feel more exposed now the car is stationary, that those disapproving women can come right up to me and slap me for what I am doing in public, slap me for being a disgrace and slap me because I deserve it; I know a strong part of me believes they should, yet I have a dark reality that makes me want them to. I know I should get out quick before anyone I know sees me, but that is not what I want. I am frozen, torn, forced to accept my true desires. I turn back to my whore duties, feeling disgusted with myself and hoping for that familiar growing tension within that will transport me away from what I am becoming. I work hard on his cock desperately wanting to feel his cum launch itself down my throat. I can feel it stiffen and I prepare myself as he shoots strings of hot cum all over my tongue, the insides of my cheeks and slip sliding down my throat. The force of it pushes some dribbling out of the corner of my mouth.

I can hear the disapproval in the voices of the people around us, and someone mentions they have called security who will be here in a minute. The heat in my cheeks is scalding. Will's hand takes mine and brings it to my cheek where he helps me scoop up the cum running towards my chin. He is smiling at me as I look nervously at him. It was ok when we were running at speed down the highway, but not here, not like this with the hostility of people so close, all around us, fencing me in with their disapproval. He pushes my hand up through my hair leaving a ribbon of cum draped over it. I smile at him feeling insecure and then bend down and slurp up the last of his cum. I clean his cock dutifully as he has taught me.

"That was perfect. You gave them a masterclass."

He puts the car into gear and drives off before security can arrive and I sit there revelling in the taste of his salty seed in my mouth, trying to shut out form my mind everything else. I have so many mixed emotions about what has just happened. I loved it, I loved being pushed, I feared where he was taking me, I feared liking it too much. I need Will, I need his approval and I fear not being good enough for him. As we pull up outside my house he drops the weight of his hand directly between my thighs and cups my pussy.

"When you are in bed lying next to your husband tonight, I want you to use Frankie while he sleeps and think on your visit to Hollywood today."

I say nothing. What can I say? We both know I will do it. He never lets up, he always has something more to push me with.

"Will I see you again before you take me to the booth on Friday?"

"Maybe." I had to settle for that, but I knew I would be pining for him the minute he leaves. The contrast with life at home and being with Will is immense.

"I need you so much now. When I am not with you all I can think about is when you will be back."

He squeezes me really tight. I feel so small and insignificant next to him.

"I'll come round tomorrow afternoon." I visibly brighten and get out the car. Rushing in I take a shower and hide my whore clothes before Colin gets home. All I can think about that evening is lying next to Colin using Frankie and trying to keep quiet and still not to disturb him as I remind myself that I am no longer just Colin's wife but Will's whore too. I am excited when I think about telling Will tomorrow about this adventure.

In the dark of the bedroom, the rhythmic breathing of Colin deeply asleep beside me provides a restful backdrop to the turmoil in my head. I have been lying here wide awake for what seems ages, unable to sleep, excited about what Will is making me do. There has been no relief for me all day and when Colin got home I was begging him for sex. I knew it wouldn't be like Will - Colin is too considerate and has no idea about rough sex. I know it is wrong for me to make comparisons, but I can't help myself. I needed cock and yet I wasn't satisfied by the time he came. It was not enough and I just lay there feeling frustrated. I wanted Will so desperately and made do with Colin, how awful is that?

To compound my guilt I knew that manipulating Colin into fucking me would make him sleep soundly afterwards; and I need him to be fast asleep so I can play with Frankie. I tell myself I am not being unfaithful to him by playing with myself. Yet when I saw the relief on his face after the strain of the past few days, when he understood I wanted to have sex with him, it cut right through me. If only he knew what was going on. I wonder whether Will would make me tell him. I could never do that, but could I resist Will?

I lift Colin's arm up gently and move it over to his side of the bed. Reaching down by the bed I grasp hold of Frankie, my slender fingers slipping around his wide girth and my mind goes back to holding Will in the carpark of the mall. I close my eyes. I feel bad, really bad thinking about Will as Colin lies asleep beside me, but I haven't been allowed to cum all day and after the booth I really need a good fucking. I am only meeting my needs since Colin hadn't satisfied me. Even so I know I am only doing this because Will told me to. I bend my knees slowly drawing my legs up and slip Frankie between them. At last I can feel something hard inside me and dream Will is there.

The next morning I go out for shopping. With the money from the booth I can buy new outfits and I want to find something that will excite Will. I had such hot dreams last night: Will showing off his whore then finding myself alone in sex shops in a red-light district surrounded by men demanding sex from me, being handled roughly and passed from one to another. I am so geared up these days I live for sex. Will has shown me a side of myself that I had never allowed expression. I have changed so much so quickly. I never used to think in such crude terms, but now I think like a whore and long for the lifestyle.

Is it possible? Yet I have never felt this alive before, I never dreamed I could be this aroused, it is as though I am only now reaching my potential as a sexual being. I just want to be with Will having sex and being his whore. I love being his plaything. I love the way he uses me and shows me off. I love looking around the shops and trying outfits on that show off my body, of strangers watching me and wanting my body for sex. I resent having to pretend to be my old self when I'm at home. I am choking and screaming in my head. It is becoming more and more difficult. I don't like my old self, my anger spills over at Colin that he could not make me feel this way. I am bored with this life and the security he offers me is no longer what I want. I crave danger, living on the edge. I know it is not right. I know it is me who has changed not him, but I find it so impossible to keep up the pretence.

I am looking for more clothes now that I am working at the booths. I try out some shiny club wear. Taking an armful into the changing rooms I stand before the mirror and imagine it is the tall dark window through which I will be observed. Even in the changing room I play, trying to entice the mirror.

I finally settle on a silver outfit. The pants are so tight with a zip that starts right down at the base of the crotch and snakes its way over my mound and up to my waist. I have to struggle to close off the zip it is so tight and it presses to my crotch like a second skin; the ridge of my mound with the tell-tale line of the zip disappearing below is very prominent. Streaks of crease marks catch the overhead light as they radiate out across each leg where the material cuts into my flesh. At the top of the zip are long silver tassels with shiny fake diamonds glittering in the light. The top is a sleeveless waistcoat of thin silvery fabric which pulls tight around my waist and buckles together with a bright shiny heart shaped buckle just above the zip of my pants. The cleavage opens wide right down the front from a sling back and comes together just above my belly button. Across my breasts the material is tight and follows the contour precisely.

Somewhere in my head I still tell myself I am not a whore but more and more of my wardrobe is being taken over with whore clothes and wearing them turns me on. The word spirals endlessly in my head. I end up masturbating in the changing rooms as I try on more and more daring outfits and thinking about performing in them. I rush back to the house excited eager to wear them around the house and to practice in front of the mirror with Frankie.

That afternoon the doorbell rings and my pulse quickens even before I get to the door, just thinking of being with Will is enough to set me off. He never asks me about Colin or whether he might be at home. He doesn't seem to care about the risk: no that's not it - he just isn't interested. That is not his problem: I have to deal with it. There is something rather predatory about the way he assumes dominion over me, usurping Colin. It is like something from the animal kingdom, and my animal lust for him just disables me as I let him take me over. I want him more and more.

I open the door in my new short skirt, stockings and of course no panties. The wind blows chill up my skirt and keeps me conscious that I am naked under this flimsy piece of material and any of my neighbours might be watching. I recognise how I am acting, the new me; but it doesn't matter, I don't care, nothing matters as long as Will is here.

He hugs me tightly and kisses me on the porch, taking his time as he claims ownership over me. He stands back to look at me and I can see in his eyes he likes how I dress for him and that pleases me so much. I love doing little things for him. Once inside he gestures with his hand and I turn around for him so he can get the full view. He takes me in his arms again, his hands upon my shoulders and he watches my face as his hands roam over my back. I moan and lean into him, the tender caress of his arms warms me. His hands move further down and his fingers explore the top of my skirt where it presses against my soft flesh. I feel the warmth of his fingers on my skin and I tingle inside at the touch. Lower and lower he goes over my ass cheeks which he squeezes and then they are under my skirt. In one swift movement he cups my pussy from behind under my skirt and I press myself into him.

"You are a good girl. You learn your lessons well. I see you no longer wear panties."

I moan into his shoulder, not knowing whether he needs a reply. "Do you?" he insists.

"No," I murmur. "That's right," he says. "Before I leave today I am going to empty your panty drawer, you don't need them anymore. Or maybe I will just open the window and tip them out over the front lawn."

I picture them fluttering down from the upstairs window, blowing across the lawn in the breeze and the neighbours watching appalled. I blush deeply as the image excites me. I need him inside me now. His finger slides along the length of my slit.

"Ha, always so eager," he laughs. I open my legs wider so he can explore me more deeply. Suddenly I feel pressure as he pinches the flesh between my pussy and thigh so hard that I yelp but do not pull away. He grabs hold of both my pussy lips and pulls them apart violently. I arch my back leaning into him as his fingers and thumbs squeeze as hard as he can the soft pulpy flesh of my lips. I groan with the pain and feel my nipples harden. He opens me wide with such brutishness and then buries two fingers inside me while he stretches his third finger out to full length and scratches at the tip of my clit. I am humping his hand as I lose all self-control. The pain in my sore lips still throbs as the excitement emanating from my clit shivers through me. He watches as I approach my climax and as I twist and jerk on his fingers he laughs at me. My body is a puppet and he is my puppet-master.

I slump my head on his shoulder as I try and calm myself. He pulls his fingers from me and I can feel my wetness cling to them, s stringy bridge from my opening which he wipes upon my inner thigh. Suddenly he twists me round and pushes me hard against the wall. I slam against it and lose my breath. He kicks my feet apart and I press my palms against the cold plaster. I can feel him undoing his trousers and listen as they fall down his legs right behind me. My pussy gushes at the sheer brutality and forceful handling of me. I am consumed by the desire for his cock ramming into me and I want him to drill me hard. He brings his hand down with full force upon my ass cheeks in a stinging blow that forces me flat against the wall. I press my forehead against the coolness and try and tilt my ass out for him. I know I deserve this treatment. Then he is in me and humping me forcefully. I am slammed again and again against the wall. I try and put my hands in the way to protect my face but he is like a wild beast and my pussy is drenched.

After some minutes of violent fucking, where my body moves from peak to peak in a cacophony of small orgasmic bursts, he stops still buried deep inside me. He gives me a few minutes to recover then begins thrusting up into me again once more. He takes my right hand and places it onto my clit and I immediately start pulling at it while he continues to fuck me. I feel wanton, masturbating while he takes his pleasure from me, acknowledging how it excites me to be used by him. He fucks me in deep, wild strokes: a bestial assault full of passion and need . With each thrust I move my hips back to force the tip of his cock ever deeper inside me. I am getting close to cumming all over his beautiful cock and I close my eyes to let my mind lose itself in his fucking of me.

"Show me what a good whore you are."

I gasp as I hear the word and I try to stop them impacting me but my orgasm is now sweeping over me and I give in to it with a loud gasp. As I squeeze and shudder through my orgasm, as I feel the excitement course through my veins he whispers into my ear,

"Admit to me, you are a whore."

I am so grateful to this man who has given me such powerful orgasms that I want to do anything I can for him.

"Yes," I whisper. I shut my eyes and bury my face in my arms pressed up against the wall, his body pushing into mine. I am still embarrassed by admitting it out loud. My mind stumbles over his wording. He did not say 'my whore' but 'a whore' which pushes me further. Is this the game we play, or is he making a statement about who I am?

"Yes, what?" He stops his thrusts and grips my arms. He pulls me back into his body and my breasts are forced outward and upward. I can feel the tip of his cock drive right up to my cervix.

"Don't stop..."

"Yes, what?" he repeats gripping my arms tightly. I try to squirm in his grip, make his cock move within me, excite me more, but he outwits me. I know that the only way to get him to continue fucking me is to relent to his demand. I try to resist as we both understand what he is demanding of me. I feel tears coming as I gasp out the words that I hope will satisfy him.

"Yessss. I am your worthless whore!!"

"But you are not just a whore when you are with me, are you? You like to work the booths in a sex shop."

I know what he is saying. I know I am already excited about going back there and I recall to mind watching myself in the mirror at home wearing the silver outfit and masturbating imagining the eyes of strangers upon me. I have come to love showing off my body in front of anonymous men and can't wait to be back in the booth at the end of the week. I think of the lorry drivers honking at me as they passed us on the open road. I nod my head, my back to him so he can see I am acknowledging what he is saying.

"So does that not make you just a whore who likes to flaunt her body in front of strangers, entice them to use her without caring who they are?"

There is nowhere to escape. He is relentless in his pursuit and cornering me.

"It excites you imagining those strangers masturbating as they fantasise about fucking you."

I burn with shame as he confesses my own secret desires to me. "I do."

"So does that not make you a whore to more than just me?" His logic is inescapable.

"Yes! Yes it does! It makes me a common whore," I whisper. He has forced the words from my lips, the words that for some time now I have tried to deny. This is no longer a game, it is real. I can't define when the shift happened, but we are talking about me, talking about what I am becoming. In a soft voice I add,