It was far from the first blowjob I'd given him, and far from the first forty quid I'd earned for it, but this time Richard seemed determined to fuck my face, no doubt angry at the thought I would soon be fucking someone else. I struggled to control my breathing and not choke on his cock as it rammed repeatedly against the back of my mouth seeking entry into my throat.
Gradually though we found a pattern that worked for us both, and I used my lips and tongue as well as I could. Far from being upset by his harsh use of me, I found it oddly thrilling, and the taste of precum made me moan in delight.
I sensed him getting close. He held my head tight against him, his cock as deep into my throat as it could go, and unleashed a torrent of cum into my belly as I fought against the need to breathe. When at last he pulled out a little, I gasped for breath around a cock that continued to ooze cum.
"You really are amazing," he said, fucking my mouth more gently as I licked the shaft clean and sucked hungrily on the sensitive head. "I just wish you could be all mine."
I gave his wilting cock one last lingering kiss, and stood up. "No one man will ever be enough for me."
We were alone in Richard's apartment, and the cash in my hand and Richard's cum in my mouth were sufficient to trigger the transformation. Already my breasts were swelling and my muscles toning, and my sensory awareness expanding. The taste of cum in my mouth, the smell of my own obvious arousal, the texture of the crumpled twenties in my hand.
The mirror reflected the naked predator - Anahita, whore and goddess. It was time to get ready for my big night, my first professional engagement.
"Need to get ready," Richard said, echoing my thoughts.
Not that I needed to do much. I brushed my teeth, applied fire engine red lipstick and touched up my mascara, and bent over to let Richard insert my new jewelled buttplug. Anal was one thing I was yet to try, and one thing I was almost certain to experience that night.
"George offered to pay double to be the one to pop your anal cherry," he'd explained a few days earlier.
It was surreal to be talking (over lunch in a crowded canteen) about selling my ass, but I'd nodded. "An offer I can hardly refuse."
"Great!" he'd said, his expression nowhere near as enthusiastic as he sounded. "I'll set it up." Poor Richard. I'd made him into my pimp when he wanted me all to himself.
The buttplug slotted into place without too much effort. I'd worried that I might hate it, yet another sin added to the list, but feeling the metal weight within me, and seeing in the mirror the purple jewel nestled between my cheeks, only served to excite me further.
Not bothering with underwear, I zipped my black PVC skirt and matching top into place, along with a gold chain necklace, and slipped my feet into high stiletto-heeled ankle boots. Snatching up my long black trench coat, I said, "Come on, then. Don't want to be late..."
*
The first time I wore my costume, I stopped at my local shop on the way home. I'd spent the evening shopping, funded in part by the two hundred quid Richard had paid to fuck me without a condom; hours later, I could still feel his cum leaking from me, making my thighs alternately slippery and sticky.
I wondered if the smell of it was as obvious to my favourite cashier as it was to me. It was close to midnight and the place was empty apart from him. "What do you think?" I asked, twirling for him.
He nodded appreciatively.
I glanced at his nametag. "Calum. Is that your name, Calum?" He nodded again. "You must get bored here all by yourself, all night long."
"It has its moments," he said, his gaze drifting to the glossy outline of my breasts. "Like when a customer has cum on her T-shirt and I just want to rip it off and suck on her tits."
"I'm sure she'd let you if you paid her enough."
He raised a curious eyebrow. "How much is enough?"
I shrugged. "Twenty."
"Hmm. How much to wrap those tits about my cock and come all over them?"
"Oh, I'd say another twenty on top."
Calum glanced around nervously, but we were definitely alone. "Come with me."
I followed him into the store room at the back, and in seconds I'd removed my coat and unzipped my top, freeing my breasts - but I held out my hand for payment before letting him approach.
Part of me felt like I was betraying Richard, who at that point was the only person I'd been a whore for. Part of me was still busy calling myself a slut and a fool, as well as a whore. Part of me was calculating how many cocks I'd have to suck or fuck to buy all the things on my ever growing shopping list. Part of me was wondering what to do if someone else entered the store.
I tried to concentrate instead on the two twenties in my fist, the two hands grabbing at my breasts, the mouth suckling on one nipple, then the other. It was a very pleasant assault. I didn't hurry him, though I listened out for the whoosh of doors opening.
Before long he pushed me down onto my knees, and I pressed my breasts about a cock significantly longer than Richard's. I dribbled saliva to help lubricate its passage, and wondered whether to remove my gold necklace.
It was fun watching his cock disappear and reappear, but the best thing was seeing how much Calum enjoyed it. He came with a quiet cry, his cum spurting up against my neck and making a sticky mess between my breasts where his cock pulsed orgasmically.
As if on cue, the door opened. Quickly he wiped his cock on my breasts and tidied it away, and hurried off. I looked down at the mess he'd made, and covered it up with PVC. Most of it anyway. He'd left me with a necklace of gold and pearls.
I paid for my groceries with the same notes he'd given me, and I was amused to see him flush with embarrassment.
*
My aunt Parisa, it had often been whispered, was a whore, a jendeh. Where the rumour originated, what evidence there was, no one ever said. Indeed, had there been evidence, or even had she merely looked the part, I doubt she would still have been so welcome at family events.
But the suspicion was there and the whispers persisted. Parisa herself seemed oblivious to it, or at any rate impervious. "What man would want me?" she would say without a trace of bitterness.
She was also the only member of my family who had ever suspected I wasn't straight. "I see your blushes, Anahita," she said to me one day. "And they're not for Navid, are they?"
Navid was my mother's latest attempt at matchmaking. He wasn't unattractive, but he was eclipsed by his sister Shadi. She was like a sun blazing in the room, casting all others into shadow.
My fear at discovery was dispelled by my aunt's kind but amused smile. "If you must sin," she whispered, "make it a sin you'll enjoy."
I couldn't quite tell if she was encouraging me to follow my heart, or seducing me onto a dark path.
She laughed at my doubting expression, and kissed my forehead. "The virtuous will be praised."
Whether she intended to complete that saying, I was never sure, for we were interrupted at that moment by my mother and Navid, Shadi behind them, and I was drawn back into the tedious and conflicted world of heterosexual courting.
The words stayed with me, though. The virtuous will be praised - but not envied. As a secret and unrepentant sinner, I was praised for my virtue, but longed to be envied. I visited her one evening and we talked over bowls of her famous dizi. Eventually I plucked up the courage to ask her: "Is it true, Aunty? Were you ever a jendeh?" I could feel the abrupt heat in my cheeks as I forced the words out.
My aunt studied me closely for a minute, then took my hands in hers. "My little Anahita. Has something happened?"
"Perhaps it was a dream," I said quietly, "but my body changed. My breasts" - I illustrated the enlargement of my breasts with my hands - "and my mind too" - I mimed the expansion of my consciousness.
Parisa blinked. "A dream. Yes. I have had this dream too." She sat back with a heavy sigh. "Anahita, my child, you do know that if you ever need money you can come to me."
It was my turn to blink. She knew what I had done. She knew what had happened to me. She knew because she had done the same. "You told me once to choose a sin I enjoy," I said carefully.
"Hah! There is no sin in hamjenz gerâ. Eat pussy if you want, but to be a whore? That is not clever. I know."
She had a point, but... "What is it, this thing that happens? Is it a curse? A demon? How does it work?"
"The arrow that has left the bow," she muttered. "A wish, a curse, a deceitful djinn. A young girl who asked for beauty to seduce a prince whose wealth charmed her. Her wish was granted, but she was condemned to be a whore, beautiful and childless."
"Childless?" I echoed, a little shocked.
"Yes, Anahita, love. That is the curse of our family. You can be a virtuous wife and mother, or a courtesan envied by all, bright and beautiful as a butterfly."
"And what did you choose?"
"We don't all get to choose," she replied sharply, adding after a moment, "I chose to live."
*
"If what my aunt said is true," I explained later to Richard, "I don't have to worry about disease or pregnancy. In fact, it's having the cum inside me that triggers the change - that and the physical exchange of money."
Richard nodded. "Makes sense." We'd had sex a few times in various ways, with and without exchanging money, attempting to understand what initiated the transformation. Our successes correlated with what my aunt had said.
