textfiles/sex/EROTICA/P/pwhore.txt

MY PRECIOUS WHORE
  
   
   I suppose it came from my desire to own totally, for a night. Not out
   of consent, but out of obligation. Twisted, perhaps. But then again, I
   like twisted.
   
   I would do anything for him, and he knows it. When he called me that
   day and told me of his situation, that he needed to borrow money
   again, he knew I would not refuse. How can I refuse helping the boy
   that had so many times suffered for me, so beautifully, so
   passioantely, just to feed that burning hunger and see me sleep
   soundly that night?
   
   He felt guilty, as usual. We both knew he would never be able to pay
   me back. And this was not just another $20 for a college textbook or
   art supplies, this was $200. And he needed it in two days.
   
   "I'll give you the money," I told him softly on the phone.
   
   He sighed in relief. "You don't know how much this means to me. I WILL
   pay you back, I promise. I owe you forever."
   
   "I want something in return."
   
   "Anything." he said. His fatal error.
   
   "I want you."
   
   There was a pause on the line, and he laughed a little. Almost
   nervous. "You want to do the dom thing?"
   
   It made me smile, how he talked about it so lightly. How he treated it
   like a game. "I'm going to get a hotel room tomorrow night. The Hilton
   near your house. You're going to be my whore. I'll give you the money
   to fullfill my fantasies. Anything I want."
   
   I heard him shuffling some papers and then say, "Ok. Do I need to
   bring anything?"
   
   "Just be there in the lobby at 8. Check the front desk for a note from
   me. I'm the rich person of your nightmares, and you are my gigolo slut
   willing to do anything for money. You know my safeword."
   
   He almost giggled, he laughed at me like he does, amused at my
   intensity in matters that he finds bizzarre but succumbs to out of
   friendship. "Yes, ma'am" he said with a little sarcasm. "I'll be
   there."
   
   "Good."
   
   "And thank you..again...you're saving me, really."
   
   "Save the thank yous," I smiled, "I'm going to make you work for that
   money."
   
   ****
   
   The thing that really got me going about this was that I was paying
   him. Sure, I would have given him the money anyway, but I was making
   him work for it. That somehow gave me the opportunity to push his
   limits more, to do things that I would otherwise hold back on because
   I felt like it was too much to ask.
   
   I could have just as easily given him $500, since the room cost over a
   hundred and the toys and outfit I bought cost another two hundred. But
   it was worth it. Lounging in the bathtub at the hotel awaiting his
   arrrival, it was well worth it. Knowing he would be my slut, my whore,
   my little bastard to abuse for the whole night.
   
   The note I left him at the front desk had my room number on it and was
   signed "John." I hoped he understood what I meant. I figured he was
   insightful enough.
   
   I finished my bath and changed into masculine clothes, unlike anything
   he had seen me in. The strap on felt awkward under my pants and I
   contemplated losing it, but I wanted this to be a certain way. I
   fumbled with a jacket to cover the unbelievable bulge in my pants, and
   I giggled.
   
   I don't look masculine at all, and had to work to hide my curves and
   bust. But I took time in doing it, pulling my hair back in the final
   touch and adding men's cologne that made me gag.
   
   I intended to make him feel like a real slut, and I knew he would be
   mortified. And the mere thought of it made me ache with desire.
   
   ***
   
   His knock was soft, careful. So like him. I shut off the far light so
   the room was just barely lit and went to the door. The clothes felt
   bulky, foreign. I intended to play out the role of a male as seriously
   as possible, as I truly was in the mindframe, but was not about to try
   faking voices or acting ridiculous.
   
   When I opened the door his eyes scanned me then immediately fell to
   the ground. I dont know if he was trying to hide a smirk or was truly
   nervous.
   
   I stepped back so he could enter and then promptly closed the door and
   pushed him down to his knees with a hand on his shoulder. With his
   back to me I shoved two one hundred dollar bills into his pants at his
   waist, unzipping my pants. "Suck my cock." I ordered.
   
   I didn't change my voice at all. It was me, purely me. And when I
   dropped my pants to my ankles and forced his head around by the hair,
   I could see him shaking. Without hesitation I pulled his head toward
   my latex cock, which was now standing at attention in front of him.
   
   "Don't waste my time," I ordered, holding his head with both of my
   hands and guiding him as he parted his lips.
   
   This was so dificult for him, I could sense it, as I had never even
   made him do anything close, sans sucking my fingers while I watched,
   amused. He was not homophobic but was clearly het, and watching him
   kneel upright to take my cock into his mouth made me weak with desire.
   
   
   I moved with him, thrusting at the hips to guide my pseudo cock into
   his gorgeous mouth, whispering to him what a cocksucking slut he was
   as I fucked him. I made him take the money out of his pants and drop
   it on the floor where I could see it, made him hold me by the waist
   and guide my movements as the tempo increased.
   
   His eyes wandered up my body, then his lashes fluttered and he closed
   them, moving his hands down the length of my strap-on and pulling back
   to lick, kissing the tip of it, now perhaps fully into the mindspace
   of doing what he knew felt best.
   
   I watched, intrigued, aroused, wanting to take him into my arms and
   fuck the life out of him. Just watching him move so wantonly, on his
   knees, living up to his image as a whore, as my whore. I imagined
   watching him from across the room, watching him do this to another
   man. And it made the arousal even more demanding.
   
   I could have cum, easily, just from the friction of the strap on
   against me as I fucked him that way. But I pulled back and he gasped,
   his eyes fluttering open.
   
   "Take the money," I ordered, out of breath. "You've sucked my cock
   well."
   
   He lowered his head, taking the money from the floor and carefully
   folding it into his hand. He was breathing shakily.
   
   I reached back and pulled the clip out of my hair, letting it hang
   down around my shoulders as I eased out of the jacket and unlocked the
   strap on. "Now you are mine. My slave. My cocksucking slut. The night
   is young. And I want to be female."
   
   He kept his head down, stayed there on his knees. It was only 9 and I
   was already wet, dripping, shaking as I stepped out of my clothes
   while he waited. And the plans I had..the time I had spent plotting.
   
   Two hundred dollars was nothing. Five hundred was nothing. I would
   have paid a thousand dollars for that pleasure, for him for the night.
   I intended to make it worth every penny. And seeing him there,
   gorgeous and waiting, indebted, aroused. I could not have been
   happier.
   
   ***
   
   Justin was a pretty boy. He was only 19, and the first time I saw him,
   at a party over a year before, I knew I had to have him. He wasn't
   naive; he lost his virginity at 15 and was extremely popular among
   girls his age. But a woman of 24 intimidated him, and I liked that.
   
   He became my plaything out of curiosity, and the desire to get laid. I
   told him many times I would never have sex with him, but perhaps grant
   him some sexual satisfaction from time to time.
   
   Above all he was a cherished friend, he delighted me. We went to
   movies, to dinners together. I was always bailing him out of messes,
   loaning him money, picking him up in the middle of the night at
   parties when his ride ditched him. I was a cross between his owner and
   his mother.
   
   I pondered all of this as I watched him kneeling there, his head down,
   how his soft blonde hair hung down over his eyes. His lips were
   together, his hands were at his sides. He was simply gorgeous. I felt
   blessed.
   
   I changed in the same room and caught him looking just a few times,
   but I gave him a warning glare. I slipped into a black lace corset and
   garters, thich highs and a tight pvc dress that clung to my thighs and
   hugged my breasts. I added my favorite pair of pvc gloves and pondered
   my boots, which were sitting across the room. I decided to put them on
   later, but never got to them.
   
   I padded over to him in my stockinged feed and took him delicately by
   the chin, making him rise. "time for you to change for me."
   
   His eyes scanned my body and he bit his lip. He was just a little
   taller than me and I had to resist the urge to wrap my arms around him
   and plant sweet kisses all over his face. But I knew soon enough my
   dom side would take control and he would be faced with relentless
   torment by me. His biggest fantasy and his worst nightmare, all in
   one.
   
   I undressed him. I made him stand still and not help me at all, I
   wanted to do it all for him. I pulled his new outfit from the closet
   and he looked at it, I could tell it made him uneasy. Very feminine.
   Very pretty.
   
   His cock was hard and I smiled at him, taking my gloved finger over
   the tip of it to swipe a bit of precum and bring it to my lips,
   sucking it off gently as he watched.
   
   I felt almost disappointed at myself for not being so dominant at this
   point, but I was simply too happy and aroused to feel it. The element
   of control was minimal.
   
   First I made him put on the black fishnet stockings I had for him, and
   then I complimented how nice his ass looked in them.
   
   "Show me that ass, my little pet. Move back and bend over," I ordered,
   leaning back in the bed.
   
   He did as told, hesitant, and he blushed. His legs did look a bit
   silly in the fishnets, but I was already starting to get aroused. I
   was in a hurry to get him fully dressed so I called him back, putting
   a mesh shirt over his head and then making him step into a long black
   skirt.
   
   He didn't quite look like a woman, more like the little crossdressers
   I admired so much at the dance club.
   
   I pulled a bottle out of my case and ushered him into the bathroom. It
   was temporary black hair dye. "Say goodbye to those golden locks,"
   
   He looked upset at once, turning to me, "But wait...What if it won't
   come out? You can't do that...It's --"
   
   I slammed my gloved hand over his mouth, hard. Glaring into his eyes,
   I grittted through my teeth, "Two hundred dollars. YOu belong to me.
   Understand?"
   
   His eyes fluttered. He sighed a little, half nodded, and I let go. I
   took him by a fistful of hair and dragged him to the bathtub and he
   gasped in pain.
   
   "Ooh I like that," I growled, pulling harder.
   
   "Ahh!" he gasped as I shoved him down onto his knees in the tub. He
   knew it, I knew it. The dom-me had arrived.
   
   ****
   
   In the tub he looked precious, kneeling as I worked the dye into his
   hair. His wrists were now chained behind his back because I didnt want
   him interfering.
   
   He kept his head down and the dye dripped down into his face. I took
   care in wiping it with a cloth, keeping it from his eyes. I stopped to
   kiss him, hard, and he didn't respond. He let me move my tongue harshy
   into his mouth, breathing through his nose. He was shaking.
   
   When I rinsed the dye out of his hair it was left a pretty blue-black,
   and I wanted to fuck him more than anything.
   
   I dragged him by the hair to the mirror and shoved his face almost too
   close to it, "Look at you, precious whore! You look amazing."
   
   His eyes were filled with pain, resentment. He lowered them as I dried
   his legs carefully over the fishnets and made him sit on the toilet.
   
   I dried his hair as he kept his head down, his wrists still behind his
   back painfully. Halfway through I made im move to the floor, to his
   knees, holding his head between my legs while I finished.
   
   This sort of treatment clearly made him uneasy, and I revelled in it.
   
   After his hair was dry I made him crawl on his knees, upright, to the
   next room where his remaining clothes waited. He kneeled by the bed
   watching as I went through the gloves and boots I had bought for him.
   The lipstick, the eyemakeup. Oh, I had such plans for him.
   
   But looking at him, just looking at him kneeling there with his pretty
   black hair, I wanted to chain him up and bring him to orgasm.
   
   ****
   
   An hour later he sat bound to the chair. Amazing. I just walked around
   him, clearly in dom headspace...this was all I needed.
   
   I had the mirror behind him so I could see more clearly. His
   pvc-gloved hands cuffed behind his back, his ankles tied together in
   heavy, buckled combat boots. The skirt hung down over his legs
   perfectly, I could just see a bit of the black fishnets.
   
   Rope around his chest, pulling his back against the chair, tight.
   Every breath he took was prominent. As I walked around with my whip
   dragging behind me I marvelled in how he breathed.
   
   His face...gorgeous. His lips were painted light red, his eyes
   highlighed with dark black eyeliner. His new black hair hung down in
   his eyes and the pout on his lips was indescribable.
   
   "Tell me what a slut you are," I ordered as I paced in front of him.
   
   He hesitated and I stuck the whip handle under his chin, lifting his
   face so we could see eye to eye. "Say it," I ordered.
   
   He shut his eyes and said, "Yes, I am a slut."
   
   I bent over and put my mouth on his and just kissing him made me
   shiver, made me ache. He smelt of hair chemicals and his lips reminded
   me of kissing a female, but he was still my Justin underneath. And he
   was amazing in his new outfit.
   
   I slid onto his lap and pulled his hair until he cried out in pain,
   silencing him with a kiss. I rubbed against the tightness under his
   skirt and held his head back so I could whisper into his ear,
   threatening.
   
   "the dildo.." I threatened.
   
   "no.." he gasped in pain.
   
   "Maybe I'll fuck my little whore,"
   
   "No," he whimpered, and the desperation was real. He understood that I
   was considering it. For two hundred dollars. He would have no choice.
   
   I found the money on the dresser and folded it in half, ordering him
   to open his mouth.
   
   He threw his head to the side, he struggled. I think he was terrified
   that I was going to make him eat it.
   
   I held him by the hair and forced the money between his lips. "Hold
   it. Hold it, and watch me fuck myself. DO IT."
   
   He took it in his mouth and I laughed at him, spinning around and
   sliding out of my panties, moving them from under my short dress and
   tossing them onto his lap.
   
   I ordered, "Eyes on me, if you blink, if you turn your head, if you
   even look at the floor I will use this, " I said as I picked up the
   dildo, "On your previous, virgin ass."
   
   The terror in his eyes was so sweet. He was breathing hard, holding
   that money carefully in his mouth, the gentle reminder of what got him
   there in the first place.
   
   I sat on the edge of the bed with the dildo he had earlier sucked and
   slid it into me with ease, without hesitation. I loved the way he
   rubbed his legs together under the skirt, how his lashes fluttered and
   how fucking gorgeous his eyes looked highlighted with the eyeliner.
   
   I opened my legs toward him, I laid back. I rubbed my thighs, the
   insides of my legs. I told him I was as much a whore as he was, and I
   fucked myself with that fake cock as if it was his. I even removed it
   at one point and crawled to him, holding it close to my lips, even
   with his crotch, asking him if I should suck it as if it were his
   cock.
   
   He just blinked. Pain, it was in his eyes. Desire, ache. My precious,
   tortured whore.
   
   I removed the money from his lips and laughed at the lipstick marks
   left on it at the crease, tossing it on the floor. I reached to the
   counter and took the black latex ball gag and showed it to him. He
   shook his head and lowered his eyes. He hated gags. And I loved him
   for that.
   
   When I forced it into his mouth he gasped and whimpered and looked
   into my eyes with real pain. The guilt started to hit me but I pushed
   it back, comforting him as I stroked back his hair and kissed him on
   the head.
   
   The buckle was tight but I forced it and he cried out. I knew it was
   too tight, I knew I could only leave it in for a few minutes. But I
   knew that was all the time I needed.
   
   I was shaking, I was already on the edge. I moved back to the bed and
   sat down, legs spread slowly, looking at him, at the pain in his eyes.
   
   
   His lashes were wet, he was fighting back tears of pain, and his eyes
   wandered helplessly to the dildo I slowly slid inside my wetness. I
   moaned, it was hard to even watch him because I was so on edge. But I
   stared into his eyes and thurst deeply onto the cock, biting my lip,
   feeling the tremors surface.
   
   In his eyes I saw gentle, painful sacrifice as he watched me cum. When
   I laid back in it I felt myself almost ready to cry, overcome with
   lust and pain for his situation, guilt, desire.
   
   I rested for just a second and slid back up, crawling to him. His head
   was down, his face hidden under the black stringy mess I had created.
   
   I lifted his face by the chin and kissed the corner of his mouth at
   the edge of the gag, his mouth wet from being forced open. When I
   reached around and removed the gag he gasped and winced in pain, and
   the kiss I immediately forced onto his mouth was unlike anything I had
   ever felt before.
   
   He whimpered into my mouth, he gasped in pain when I pulled harder at
   his hair and nearly sucked the life out of him. I felt myself wanting
   to cry again and pulled back, looking into his eyes.
   
   "Are you ok?" I asked softly.
   
   He nodded slowly and looked at me, not saying anything.
   
   "I want to let you go," I said quietly as I reached around for the
   cuffs, "Just so I can feel those pvc-clad hands all over my body.
   Understand?"
   
   He nodded and lowered his eyes. "Completely."
   
   And the night was still young.