The Awakening Of Chastity

A Work Of Fiction...

The Awakenings Of Chastity

Chapter 1 - Getting To Know You

I'm April. Top-Dog hooker for my owner, Martika. Yeah, owner. Willingly too. I've worked for her for 14 years now. Got the branding to show for it too, boo. I walk the streets for my owner but I also collect the takings from the other bitches too. Some work the streets, like myself, and some in the Brothel.

This is where I first met Chastity. Or Terri. Whatever the fuck you want to call the bitch. Actually, her real name is Terri and she goes under the hooking name of Chastity for the Brothel.

I heard all manner of shit about her being a Bank Manageress and that, once a month, her husband drives the mid 30's bitch over to Martika's Brothel, early in the morning, and picks her back up way after midnight.

Bitch apparently looks the part with her wild mane of red hair, heavy makeup and squeezing herself in some of the skimpiest shit I have seen. Smokes, drinks...does drugs...

Even talks the talk. Like she's been 'round the block, boo, for years.

Does all manner of shit.

Anyways, talk is rife, right? S'pecially in this business so I managed to corner the bitch, between punters, and over the years we've built up a nice friendship.

Her story's quite twisted, boo, but I thought interesting.

Terri :

I was born into a fairly normal family. Nothing really affluent. Mum worked. Dad worked. Not highly skilled, or paid jobs, but decent jobs nother-the-less. Childhood was good. I have a younger sister. We'd play in the parks, play in the garden with our Barbie's, y'know? All good, all happy. Taught right from wrong at a very early age too and the importance of education.

That was drilled into us. Neither of my parents went to Uni and, dad especially, wanted us to make them proud.

Schoolwork was relentless. As was the pressure to get grades. Friends came and went. They had more fun than I did. So I heard anyways, when they reported back. Jealous? No, not yet.

My sister, Lorraine, was more the taking-the-foot-off-the-pedal kind of teen and, many times, I'd cover for her as she was out meeting boys. Well, I say 'meeting'...kissing too!

I just wanted to get good grades. That was all I cared about. And, I did.

I got 9's and 8's in my GCSE's in Maths, English Language, English Literature, History and Physics. My sister got 4's and 5's.

She could have got better but she was much too busy living a life. Mine were all equivalent to A+'s, so my family were well happy and delighted, once I decided, that I would go to College and then Uni.

All academia. No real social skills until I went to Uni, taking Economics and Finance, and managed to get my Bachelor's, in Durham.

Over to Martika, our Madame - and my owner - to fill in some blanks.

Martika :

I had this guy message me, out of the blue, and ask me where I worked. I told him and then, like, the next night or so he came over. I thought he was a punter, so I was reeling off my menu and then he started talking about other crap. Well, time is money, y'know?

He paid and we chatted.

He wanted to turn out his wife.

Yawn. I get that shit a lot. Boring. Want to talk to some hooker on how to do it and then just wank yourself silly? No, not on your life. Fuck off!

Like I said, I hear that shit, bitch, but he was talking about bringing his wife over in the next couple of days. Fine. I tell him the ground rules - as you know, bitch, all my ho's should smoke and there's no panties involved. He gets that. I tell him to meet me at the Brothel, give him the address, and tell him to bring the bitch. He nods. He fucks off.

Terri :

By the time we drive over to see this Martika - your owner - I was already quite excited. I remember Tom, my husband, telling me to just calm down and have a cigarette.

I'd not really smoked until the day before. This was all new to me. But it did. It did help to relax me a little.

It was early. I couldn't sleep the night before. I spent ages getting my makeup and clothing just right. I thought that I looked like a slut. Guess I wasn't enough of one though.

Martika :

Bitch comes over with her husband. I'm at the Brothel early 'cos I want to take a look at this thing. See if she looked good enough to make me some money.

Her hubby sat by her side. I threw her some cigarettes and she lit up as we talked. Good start. Asked her about shit. Bitch has got some sort of past. Good.

Terri :

Martika is terribly intimidating, as you know yourself April. She's full on, no messing. Tight leather skirt, fishnets and heels, top so tight and her bra is showing. She certainly looks the part.

I remember looking at her and then thinking "Fuck, I bet she thinks 'Is this all you got?'. I'm amateur hour."

But she kept talking and looking me in the eye. Breaking off only occasionally to look at Tom. Then back on me again.

Martika :

She and her hubby had some shared sexual shit in the past. She'd said that she'd got drunk at Uni - god, I hate those fuckin' Uni bitches - and slept with a boy. 18 years of age and away from family. That was the start of it. She'd screwed around a bit before meeting Tom. Took to it. Tom was no angel, it seems. Having some sort of thing about MDMA - Ecstasy to everyone else. I know you've not done it, April, but it's pretty fuckin' tame. At least it's a start.

So, bitch here got with Tom and he led her onto the whole drug scene. Then onto the whole sex and drug scene. After finishing Uni, it seems the bitch started work in finance.

Tom and her got married, left that shit behind. Soon, I think, they got stale in their marriage. Got back to the drugs and shit, which led on to sex and drugs. That led onto Tom asking the bitch to put out with his friends.

Terri :

It was gradual. Not like it happened overnight. Not like me and Tom fell out. Not like I cheated on him. But we were happy. We had a good life - money, nice house, nice car, good job - but it was just....nice. Not exciting, April. You know what I mean?

Tom's great, sexually. He gets me off. But he liked me flirting with his friends. Then, after much cajoling, onto kissing them in front of him. That was so embarrassing. I remember talking about the thought of it making me feel uncomfortable.

It led to arguments.

Fuck! Big arguments.

At the bottom of it there was that fear that Tom would leave me. Starting something that would snowball and get out of hand. Resentment, y'know? Well, I guess you have no idea. You're not married.

That first time? Tom got me a brandy and I drunk it down as I made out with his friend. I was still quite conscious of Tom being there but, y'know, the drink had it's effect and the whole spur-of-the-moment thing happened and, before long I was just into it.

Into it as I took a moment to calm down...to breathe....and realised what I was doing. I looked over my shoulder. I was sitting on his friend's lap. Tom smiled, pushed away his drink in his hand as if to say 'Carry On..' And...I did!

We chatted afterward. It was a hell of a show. Well, I say talked. There was little talking until the next morning. He had me upstairs and was banging me hard....'reclaiming me', he'd call it.

It was wonderful!

This carried on....and, gently, Tom pushed things forward. Kissing wasn't enough. Groping and kissing. Blow jobs. That, I think, was well over my limit of comfort. My threshold. I couldn't - and wouldn't - go any further. Until, of course, I went further.

A year down the line...of blowjobs....and, a bit of MDMA, some tunes...and I was finding myself having sex in the back room, on the floor, with one of Tom's friends. No rubbers.

He was inside me. Bouncing off my vagina. Deep strokes. I recall looking at Tom, through the feet of the coffee table, as this was happening and him just smiling at me. Lost in a moment. Then, looking at my fuck buddy and willing him into my vagina.

I whimpered. I moaned, April. I enjoyed it. I didn't cum with him, he was too busy emptying himself into me, but when he had gone later that night, and Tom reclaimed me? Phew!

Tom called me a 'dirty bitch', April. Told me I was 'a slag'. Got me off no end.

This happened regularly. Of course, my family never knew. We didn't have kids and, outwardly, we looked the typical career-orientated couple.

Lorraine had, ironically, gone all soft and normal. Stopped all the drinking, the casual sex, the drugs. She'd met someone, fell in love and did the whole suburbia trip.

I was well into my career, becoming a manager of a local bank and a bunch of years into this whole hotwife business. Yeah. I think you'd call it that.

What started at Tom's friends soon escalated to trawling through the internet and finding 'play dates', as Tom would call them. Still, as always, in front of him. Still, we'd do the 'reclaiming' sex afterwards. Must have been around 40, 50 men. Something like that.

There was no love involved. It was pure rutting, April. You know? You do this shit. The excitement. The unknown. Locking eyes with your husband whilst your lover is shafting you. Feeling him inside you. Swelling up. All because of you. Finding you attractive. Then...coming inside? Oh my goodness, the best!

Me and Tom, we'd watch porn together. We'd always keep our activities to the weekends. Mainly. Sometimes during the week too.

Two lives, April. You know all about that. At work, I'd be one of the girls. Just a regular married woman. A couple of the other girls that worked under me, they liked to party a bit. Not as much as me. I'd hear all about it, on breaks, over a coffee or tea. They'd say how they had snogged a guy in a nightclub...maybe had a feel up...but nothing like what I was up to. I was the straight laced one. Oh, how wrong they were!

We were out, one night, on a very rare occasion that I wasn't fucking someone in our spare bedroom - we had progressed to the bedroom - and we happened to take a side street in the car and we saw this woman -

Martika, your owner - on the streets, looking very hot. Cigarette in hand. Walking over to what must have been a punter's car.

We drove on, of course, onto our dinner date. Had a lovely time. I had a drink, Tom had a few. We shared the driving so I was driving us back home. Tom had his hand on my thigh.

"Well, that was a lovely meal, Terri."

I nodded and smiled.

"Remember that hooker that we saw, working her patch?" he asked.

I said that I did.

"You been with her?" I looked over at him, quizzically. Luckily we were at the lights.

"God no, but she was hot wasn't she?"

I had to agree.

"Certainly didn't look like a novice, that's for sure. I wonder how much cock's been inside her? He asks.

This was all getting me a little too wet! Yes....I wondered too...as Tom squeezed my thigh.

Mmmmmmmmm.

"I bet she's such a cool slag. You think she's married?" I muttered.

"Nah, nobody would marry a slag like that. Well....I would." he commented.

"Huh?"

"If you hooked? God, that would be so fuckin' brilliant."

"Tom, I can't! Don't be bloody stupid! I have a job. A career. I work in a bank, for christ's sake! I'd lose my Job."

"I know, I know. But...wouldn't it be so cool."

Planting a seed.

End Of Part 1