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(She's a Whore, continued...)

“I’ll pay you just to talk. I only wanted company,” you venture, hoping she’ll believe you.

Your friend looks at you suspiciously. “Don’t try to do me any favors, Sean. I’m happy with what I do. I don’t need you to keep me off the street.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you reply honestly. “I just don’t want you to go.” You put a stack of bills on the bedside table.

Lucy sizes you up for a moment, then smiles, apparently satisfied. “Okay, let’s have another drink!”

You sit in the chair, watching Lucy as she kicks off her heels and makes herself comfortable on the bed, propping herself up with pillows and wriggling her stocking-clad toes.

Over the next drink the atmosphere in the room becomes a lot more relaxed. Lucy seems almost eager to open up to you.

“So how did you get started. You know… er…”

“Fucking for money?”

“Yeah.”

Lucy takes another gulp of Southern Comfort. “Okay, so my boyfriend and I like to make up fantasies to spice things up. I’ll dress up as a schoolgirl and let him spank me, stuff like that. We’ve got a stack of costumes at home.

“One day, he brought home this hooker outfit. Fishnet stockings and suspenders, a tiny leather skirt and a skimpy top that barely covered my tits. We did the whole role-play of me turning up at the door, counting the money, telling him the rules, and all the time I was getting more turned on than I’ve ever been.

“Then he just grabbed me and went ‘Okay whore, you’re mine now!’ and he shoved his hand between my legs. I was so wet I was almost dripping! He pushed me up against the wall and fucked me from behind, calling be a slut and a whore. And every time he called me a whore I got hotter and hotter…”

“Jesus…” you croak. This was not the story you were expecting.

“Anyway, I loved that fantasy so much, I wanted to do it all the time. It got to the point that I started calling him at work and asking him to call me a whore and other dirty names while I played with myself. He only had to do that for a minute and I’d be cumming. But eventually he wanted to try other things and I had to back off, because I was starting to sound like… like…”

“A dirty slut whore?” you suggest.

Lucy can’t prevent a little gasp in response to your bluntness. Then she smiles at you and bites her lip. “Yeah. But I couldn’t get the fantasy out of my mind. I couldn’t ask my boyfriend to indulge it anymore — it would’ve wrecked our relationship. So I decided to secretly do it for real. And here we are.”

“Lucy, that’s crazy!” you blurt out. “There’s a big difference between fantasy and reality!”

She looks back at you with a wry smile. “It turns out that in my case, not so much.”

“Wow. Just wow. So has it all been as good as you fantasized?”

“Mostly,” she replies, then casts her eyes down. “When I started out, I told myself that I was just playing out the fantasy of being a whore. But now there’s no escaping the fact that I’ve become one for real…”

Lucy reflects for a moment, then looks up with a defiant grin. “But only part-time!”


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