The Ultimate Whore free porn video

Note to American readers - a bedsit is bedroom/sitting room; rented as a single room in a house. You share a bathroom, and usually have no access to any other rooms. It's the cheapest and most horrible accommodation commercially available. A flat is an apartment. Note to all readers. Hope you like this. In response to comments, I've put a plot in it other than just the transgender theme. I hope I've got the balance between the erotic side of the story and the non-TG plot right. I could develop the plot more, but this is to wank to, right? Please comment. The Ultimate Whore By Pauline I guess I'm the ultimate whore. After all, isn't whoring defined as selling your body for money? I've certainly done that. Averted a terrorist bombing, too. It started off with a need for money. I'd left university with debts, as students often do but I hadn't chosen my course well, and I'd ended up with a poor degree too. Result? No job! Well, I got a job, but it didn't pay at all well, and I sank further into debt - and then further. I had to give up my flat, and a friend put me up for a while. I had to find a way to earn some money. Real money, quickly. Eventually, I found the advert on the net. Somebody wanted a young man to spank and was willing to pay. I was surprised. Usually, they want a woman to spank or be spanked by, but this ad wanted a young man - a slender young man, not taller than 5' 6". I was almost skinny and at 5' 5" I qualified so I answered the ad, asking how much he was offering, and the reply came a few days later. It was enough and after a few more exchanges of emails, we met. I was pretty scared, but he seemed normal enough - apart from wanting to spank me - and we did the deed. He had me lean over the back of a chair, and he simply spanked me with his hand. There was no role-playing and no ceremony. He paid me, and I left. The money was good. Apart from having a sore behind, and being seriously embarrassed, that was it. But of course, I needed more, and kept going back. Mostly because I spent the money. There was a potential girlfriend that I was trying to impress, and not succeeding. I got further into debt, and it got difficult to borrow money. Next time I had a spanking, I asked Charles if I could somehow earn some more money. He said yes, but that it would mean him taking more control over my life. In fact, I'd have to stay with him, although I'd still be free to come and go. Since I'd overstayed my welcome at my friend's house, and I'd given up on the girlfriend, I asked what he meant. The deal was that I had to agree not to cut my hair or my nails, and not to masturbate or make any girlfriends. And he'd spank me any time he wanted, and cane me if I was really bad. I nearly walked out, but I was desperate for money, and I'd become used to being spanked by this guy. And I'd got used to having the money coming in from him. If I left, he made it clear that would stop too. So I agreed. After all, I decided I would save up and end the arrangement in a few weeks. Well, it was OK for a short while. I was pretty much free to do what I wanted but if I did what he wanted, he spanked me much less. If I did what he really didn't want me to do, he spanked me pretty hard. I got caned a few times. Since it hurt, I was willing to do what he wanted for the most part. But then one day he walked in on me when I was masturbating. He was really angry with me, and reminded me that I'd specifically agreed not to do that. He told me that he had little option but to throw me out. So I started packing, but I pleaded to him, asking him to let me stay. I really needed the money. He eventually agreed, but said that he would have to take steps to ensure I obeyed and complied with the deal. He would pay me more for having to put up with the associated inconvenience. And, I would not be allowed to live in his estate without his permission. He refused to elaborate; I had to take it or leave it. I took the offer, and that's how I came by the chastity belt. It wasn't the sort of belt that you can't remove, but if I did, I'd have to destroy it. It was like a girdle, but with large cut-outs where my buttocks went. My balls were pushed up inside my body, and my penis was pushed down and back. There was a catheter leading through the girdle, so that if I sat down, I could pee without removing the belt. I could poo, too, because the fabric between my cheeks split into two, running each side of my bum hole. The whole thing was waterproof, so I could shower and wash with it on. It was sewn on, with a patterned thread that I had no hope of finding a copy of, anywhere. I got used to wearing the belt. I was a young man, and my hormones called for relief, but I could manage for a short while, until I got just a bit more money. And so it went on. I became very aware of my buttocks, since they were exposed. Charles wouldn't let me wear any underpants, and the feeling of my jeans directly against my buttocks just seemed to make me very aware. Charles would occasionally give my bum a pat, just in passing. The boredom was bad. I could watch TV, read books and magazines, browse the Internet, walk around the grounds - he had about 2 acres - but that was all. I couldn't leave; I had to wear a bracelet with an electronic tag that would record my leaving the grounds. I couldn't even cook; he had a housekeeper to do that. She was pretty unfriendly to me, so I couldn't even talk to her. There was no phone other than his mobile, and he always had that with him. Still, it was temporary. A couple of months went by. Without anything much to do, I was beginning to look even more wimpish - losing muscle tone - so I began exercising, but Charles told me not to, and I stopped. I was beginning to get a bit fat on my bottom, though, but nothing too bad. After a while, I reckoned I'd paid off half my debt, and I went out to celebrate. I knew Charles would kick me out, but I'd had enough. I went and bought some clothes, removed the belt, and serious partying followed. Then serious unconsciousness. I woke up in field. It was near a girlie bar. Remarkably, I still had my wallet, but in it there were a bunch of receipts. It seemed I had bought everyone in the bar several drinks, and paid for several escort services of an exotic nature. I'd also bought everyone souvenir garters, and a few other things. I'd maxed out all three credit cards, and was more in debt than ever before and I had nowhere to go. There was just one place. Back to Charles. I expected him to be furious with me, but he was just a little saddened. He wanted nothing more to do with me though, but I begged, and begged him. Eventually, he agreed to take me back, but he wanted a lot more from me. "Anything," I said. We had a formal agreement this time, witnessed by his solicitor. I didn't even read it. I knew he was kinky, and that I could be expected to have to do some pretty weird stuff, but I knew he wouldn't kill me or anything, and I really needed the money. Well, this time it was far out. He said he was going to do some surgery on me. Or, at least, have it done by his friend. I reacted as you would expect, with a very animated negative. But he reminded me that I'd just signed a legally bidning agreement that I would allow it, and that if I backed out, not only would I not get paid, but that I'd have to pay the compensation set out in the agreement. OK, I should have read it. Big mistake. But, now I had a choice only between agreeing to the surgery, or financial disaster. The surgery was an experimental one. It was to widen my hips. It was explained that apparently some women had narrow hips, and this made childbirth more difficult and also did not give them a feminine outline. The operation would be to crack my pelvis front and back, and to remove a wedge at the tops, reinserting then at the bottoms. This would simply cant my hips outwards. I was assured that it had been tried on primates, and that it was simply time for a human subject. I asked if it could be reversed, and was told that it should be manageable enough. I agreed to them doing this to me - I had to. The operation was set up and I nearly backed out a hundred times, but really hadn't got much choice - the financial logic was that I had to do this. The operation apparently went well, but my bones wouldn't heal. I had to be kept in bed for a long time, on a drip. Eventually, I was allowed up, and could hardly walk. I was given some exercises for my legs to rebuild some strength, but was told not to exercise my upper body for fear of putting any strain on my pelvis. After a couple of weeks of this, my legs had built up quite a bit, although there was strangely very little muscle tone, but of course my upper body was still skinny. The most striking thing was my hips - not surprisingly. My upper thighs were now well separated. My waist had shrunk from the lack of activity and hospital food, and now flared out to my hip bones, but my body continued to flare out from there until the top of my legs. It all looked very feminine. And the change of shape was quite awkward; I had to swing my legs and hips in a different way in order to walk. I was no sooner out of bed than Charles told me he was going to pierce my skin in several places, for a new chastity belt. This would be much more subtle. Well, I was pretty much committed to Charles and his money now, and I didn't argue at all. Later the same day, I went with him to a piercing salon, on a rare trip out of the house, and I got a whole load of rings. First my pubic hair was shaved off, and then I was given a row of rings - ten of them - across my shaven skin just above my penis. They were only little, about 1/4 inch and made of some titanium alloy, I was told. I was given some more between my testicles and my bum hole; just behind my sack. So I had a few days back at the house, letting the piercings heal. Charles fitted me with a couple of bracelets - much lighter than the one I had before and made of a gold coloured metal. I didn't like them; they looked feminine, and they did more than alert Charles to my leaving; they caused pain. I never checked that out, I just trusted that they did, and never tried to leave the house without Charles saying I could. He also had me start wearing my hair in a ponytail because it was growing pretty long, now. I went back to the salon for my chastity belt. I was shown it before it was fitted. It was triangular, with one corner trimmed off so as to give the triangle a fourth side. There were a series of loops across the trimmed corner, and also on the opposite side, and I immediately understood that the loops would match my new rings. There was a catheter attached that would go into my penis. The other two sides had a thickly formed flattened bar, and the main area was of a fine mesh. It seemed metallic, but was light and flexible. I didn't know what it was actually made of. My upper row of rings were opened, and the top row of loops to the belt were fitted, and the rings brazed closed with a special tool. Apparently it was very hot, but the heat was very localised and I felt nothing at all. My balls were pushed back inside me, and the catheter put into my penis, and the thing was bent until the bottom part was against my lower rings. These were fitted, and then I was free to stand up. It was very light. Apart from the slight ache of my testicles that would soon pass, and the pulling against my rings, I hardly knew it was there. The catheter meant that again I would have to sit to pee, and I knew it would help hold my penis where it was. But the whole thing pressed firmly against me on both sides, and the gaps between the rings were too small to get anything between them other than perhaps a wire. No good for me. My pubic hair, which was beginning to regrow, was just poking through the mesh, and I realised that in time it would totally conceal the thing. Still, for all of this, it was more comfortable and practical than the old thing I'd had to wear, and I actually said I liked it. Charles took me shopping after that. With my new shape, following the operation, I needed some new jeans. It was immediately obvious that fit was a big problem, and it was equally obvious that the solution was to get women's jeans for me. I bowed to the inevitable, and was soon outfitted with two blue pairs, a black pair, and a white pair. I left the shops wearing them, rather than the jogging trousers that I'd been wearing, because the elastic waist on them had become too loose for comfort. We went to a restaurant for lunch, and the waiter acted funny towards me. He held my chair out for me, and smiled at me a lot, and handed me the menu before Charles, whereas of course it should have been the other way round because he was clearly taking me out rather than the other way round. Then he offered to bring us drinks, and Charles ordered a beer, and the waiter looked at me and said, "And for the lady?" I was frozen in shock, and couldn't say anything, and Charles just ordered a coke for me. The waiter went away, and I hissed at Charles that he'd mistaken me for a woman! Charles was unperturbed and said not to worry about it. The whole of the rest of the meal was an embarrassment. The waiter was treating me like a lady, and I kept blushing. Eventually, we got out of there and went home. Walking back to the car, I was very aware of my hips and the way I was rolling them as I walked, but I couldn't walk any other way. Back in my room, I looked at myself in the mirror, and had to admit that I cut a very feminine shape. I had no bulge at my groin, and my hips were very feminine shaped. With the exercises I had done, my legs had built up but my arms and torso were poorly developed. I turned and looked at my bottom, and was shocked at how feminine it looked. Well, I only had to put up with it for a short while, I was sure. Then I thought of the contract, and ran from the room in a panic and sought Charles out. I demanded to know what the terms of the contract were, but he said that he wouldn't tell me, but I could trust him not to do anything that it didn't provide for. Strangely, I did trust him, and I just accepted the situation. I told him I wanted out as soon as was possible, and that I wanted my hips putting back. He then told me that would not be possible - with my bones not healing, they didn't dare operate on my pelvis again. If they did, I might never walk again. While I absorbed all that, especially the last bit, he was talking to me, saying that if I looked feminine, as I did, I ought to do a better job of it. Better to look properly feminine rather than a woman trying to act like a man, or even worse, like a man pretending to be a woman. I should just think of the embarrassment of being caught as a crossdresser. I could see the logic of this, and asked him what he meant. He just smiled, and told me he'd see to it the next day, and that I should go to bed. It had been a long day, so I did. Over the next few days, I got more and more feminine. First there were some clearly feminine tank tops, blouses, and suchlike. Then I had to wear my ponytail high on my head. Then I had my eyebrows thinned and shaped. My fingernails were shaped and polished. I had to wear lipstick, then full make up. Then I had to wear a bra with some falsies in it and I got some high heels. Each thing seemed like just a small step; each to make me appear less like a man, so as to avoid the dreaded embarrassment. If it had all come at me in one go, I would have resisted it, but it didn't. And secretly, I was happy to get the bra, because it concealed something that had been worrying me. Although my arms and shoulders had stayed skinny, my chest had become a bit podgy. Flabby, even. The bra and falsies concealed that. The chastity belt was a real frustration. Charles had a new housekeeper. No friendlier than the first, but this one was good looking, and I looked. She was a live in housekeeper, and was allowed to use the pool and everything in her time off. Just watching her sunbathe filled me with desire, and I ached to be able to touch myself and relieve the tension, but I couldn't. Charles seemed happy with me so long as I acted like a woman, so I did, all the time we were together. I got spanked less that way; in fact, he had hardly spanked me at all for ages. After a few days of nothing more feminine coming my way, Charles said he was going to take me out to the cinema. I really wanted to go; I was confident that I'd appear feminine enough, and that it would be fun. We went and it was fun, and then we went back to the same restaurant we'd been in before. The waiter was not the same as last time, but the treatment was the same. This time I was ready for it, and it was OK. We were just finishing when there was a crash from a window and a brick came flying through. It almost hit me, and I could see there was a note attached. Well the staff were very concerned about people's health and safety, but nobody had been hurt. The restaurant closed though, because of the glass in people's food, and Charles took me home. On the way home, he said he thought he'd recognised the man that had thrown the brick - he'd seen a glimpse because he'd been looking that way over my shoulder when the brick had been thrown. Next day, it was in the papers. The note had been a threat. If that restaurateur, and all the others in the city didn't turn vegetarian immediately, there would be grenades, not bricks that would be thrown. I was appalled - I had some sympathy with the cause, but not with the way it was being advanced! Charles contacted the police, but they didn't make anything of it. They asked the guy some questions, but it led nowhere. Charles seemed very put out over by the event. He'd grown up in this city, and loved it. I knew he would like to be mayor, but knew he'd have to toady up to a lot of people to get elected, and couldn't face the thought. Anyway, he was in a dark mood for a couple of days, and I couldn't shake him out of it. Then, he came to me, and said I needed breasts! Just like that! I was shocked, and asked him what he meant. He said he needed a distraction from the brick thing, and I needed the real thing, not falsies, and that was the end of the matter; I was getting implants the next day. By now, I'd found I couldn't really argue against Charles, and the next day I was wheeled off for the operation. Charles muttered something about some other slight adjustments, but I didn't really register. When I came too, I felt like I'd been kicked in the head and throat, as well as having a very sore chest, I also had my Adam's apple shaved, and I'd had some collagen injections into my lips. It didn't stop there; my nose had been trimmed and reshaped, and my chin had been pulled back. Once the swelling had gone down you could see that I was now very feminine in all my features. Even my groin now looked feminine; the hair had grown and the mesh was no longer visible at all. But the pain cleared quickly, and I healed very well this time. I now had a large chest; a D cup, I was told. I was angry. Really angry. This was not what I'd agreed to. But, thinkingabout it, I hadn't been asked. I guess the contract allowed this. I somehow controlled my anger and accepted it. I slowly got used to my new breasts because they moved every time I moved, but not the same way. They jiggled and wobbled. My bras helped, but they still moved. I knew how they looked to other men, and it was a turn-on thinking of them in that vicarious way. It was funny looking down my own cleavage; it was like being able to look down a woman's boobs any time I wanted. But slowly I did get used to them, and how to hold myself, and became aware of them so that I didn't bump them into anything. I got used to eating past them, and all the other things they got in the way of. But I never fully got used to them moving around. My frustration at the chastity device grew. Every time I looked in the mirror I saw a beautiful and sexy woman there; and of course, there was the housekeeper, too. But I had to put up with it. I complained to Charles, and he said he'd think of something. I didn't see why he had to do any thinking; he just had to let me out, but that wasn't going to happen. Next day, Charles brought me some tapes. They had relaxing sounds on them like waterfalls and gentle breezes through trees, and stuff like that. He thought relaxation would reduce the stress. I agreed to try them, and they did work. I took to wearing my headphones around all the time, and my lust changed. I could now see the housekeeper and not ache for her body, and my own body no longer did anything for me; it was just my own body. I was very grateful to Charles; he really was a sweet man, being so considerate to me. I wanted to be able to pay him back, somehow, and I tried to be extra nice to him all the time. I began to realise what a great man he was in all ways, not only in behaviour, but his body was inspiring, too. He was a very fit man, and his body was quite something to admire, not like mine, or even what mine had been like. I found my thoughts of Charles, and his body, were all positive. With my new body, I agreed to try wearing dresses and skirts. I looked really good in them, but I still preferred jeans. It was my last hold out, even though I knew Charles liked the skirts and dresses. After all, I was really a man; all this was just a cover up for the surgery on my hips, and when I had earned enough money, it would all be undone and I'd be free to live as a man again. Charles had pretty much stopped spanking me now; I'd only be punished if I was out of line. But my bottom still got a lot of attention; occasionally Charles would just fondle it; he'd often give it a pat. I grew to like it when he did this, and often just "happened" to move in a way that would show it off to him. One day, there was another brick. Charles and I read the paper by the pool, me in a bikini working on my tan, trying to look beautiful for Charles, just as he looked handsome without even trying. I was listening to my latest tapes as we sat there. Charles went away to make a phone call, and came back looking very black. He told me that the police had ruled out the man he thought he had seen throwing the first brick, but that he was still sure it was him. Charles thought there must be a group. This brick carried a so-called final warning, and we were very worried. The restaurants were struggling with bad business, and we both wanted to do something. Charles looked at me, and told me that I had to do something for him. I agreed, immediately. He said I had to become this man's girlfriend, and try and figure out who was in the gang. I had to infiltrate the group. I was, of course, totally shocked. I knew I looked like a woman, but I was a man. I couldn't do this. But as I looked into Charles' eyes, I knew I wanted to. I had to repay this man for his kindness to me, and he deserved it anyway - he was such a good man, and so handsome. I agreed, but said I'd need help. Charles put me on a crash course of learning some things that women knew. I got more collagen implants, to make my lips really sexy. I got my voice adjusted to a slightly higher pitch. I got used to higher heels, and wore skirts and dresses all the time. I practised my walk. I learned how to hold my head, and to toss my hair. I had my hair done into a mass of curls. And I learned fashion sense. This guy - David, his name was - worked in the mailroom of a big company. Charles knew one of the big bosses, and they had worked on a project together that had involved some mailshots. That was how he Charles knew David; David had worked on the mailshots, and had made an impression on Charles because he'd seemed a bit tense - just wound up. Charles arranged for me to have a job as a temporary assistant to the big boss, and it was fixed that I'd have to go down to the mailroom on a frequent basis. I was to be chatty, and to express sympathy for the vegetarian terrorists, as they were known. He also arranged for me to have a bedsit to live in, in a fairly cheap part of town. We went shopping again, to make sure I had enough clothes or the right type. I ended up with a few clothes for work, some casual stuff, and some stuff for going out. It was slutty, tarty stuff, but hey, I had a man to hook. My first day was pretty scary. I really wasn't used to going out as a woman and I'd never done it alone before. But, I had to do this for Charles; even though it meant getting close to another man, a man that wasn't Charles. I wore high heels, stockings, a tight skirt, and a blouse. Not too tarty, but definitely sexy. I had three trips down to the mail room that day, and got myself known. On the third trip, I managed to say something about the veggie terries, and was pleased to see David take a good look at me. I got on well with the other women at work, and all went well. The next day was a Friday, and I got two trips to the mailroom before lunchtime. I exchanged a few looks with David, and felt things were going OK. Actually, he was pretty cute looking. I felt a little unfaithful to Charles, but the man was definitely cute. Some secretaries invited me to go to the pub for lunch - apparently they often did that on a Friday. I went along and while I was there, David caught me in a quiet moment and we started chatting. He seemed a nice enough guy, although he flirted pretty clumsily, and his looking at my boobs was just way too obvious. He asked me out that night, and I accepted. We arranged that he would pick me up. I was really pleased; Charles would be proud. I found my nipples were hard. We had a good night out, and saw a good film. I actually enjoyed it, but worked hard on being attractive to him. He made a move on me, and we started kissing, and I felt for the first time what it is like to have your tits fondled - Mmmmmm! He wanted me to go back to his place, but I said no, I was a good girl! He looked disappointed, but beamed a wide smile when I said I could see him the next day though! He offered to pick me up again, but I said I'd walk - it was in fact only a couple of streets from my bed-sit. So we made the arrangement, and he dropped me off at my bed-sit, and kissed me goodbye with a request to dress nicely for him the next day. I stood back a little and asked him what he meant by "nice". He told me "slutty!" with a big grin so that I could take it as a joke if I wanted, and he could pretend that it was if I took offence. But I knew he meant it. I went to bed, with my penis aching in my chastity device and my nipples like rocks. I really fancied David. Next day I got up early, and picked out some red high- heeled shoes and a short tight skirt. I got a thong to go with it, and a low cut bra with a crop top. I did some tarty makeup, and set out for David's place. He let me straight in and complimented me on my look. I smiled coyly, enjoying the compliment and the attention. He bid me to make a coffee while he finished an email. This was important to me, Charles had said to take a look at his computer if I got a chance. I headed off to the kitchen, where David pointed, saying how clever he was to do that; I'd never even switched a computer on. David was incredulous, and offered to teach me sometime, but I acted like a ditzhead that couldn't try something that needed such brains. I brought the coffee, and David left the computer to come over and drink it. We had a necking session, and David was feeling my thighs. I told him not to go any higher because it was the wrong time of the month, but left him in no doubt that I wasn't rejecting him. The snogging session continued, and I lost my bra somewhere along the process. My boobs felt wonderful under his hands and my penis was aching with desire - he was so desirable, this man. Eventually, we managed to stop and drink the coffee, and then David headed off for the loo, leaving the computer still switched on. I guess he thought it was safe from me, because I didn't know how to use them. I heard the toilet seat go down, and I knew I had a few minutes. I made for the computer, and in no time I'd found what I was looking for - the text of the warnings on the bricks, and an exchange of emails talking about bombing a restaurant, and whether to email a newspaper afterwards. They were going to bomb it the next day! I took a note of the recipient's name, and made it back to the sofa before David returned, and we had another snog. I had to try very hard to conceal my loathing for what I knew he was doing, but his body was nice. This time, I had to suck his cock - there was no helping it. I'd expected it to be disgusting, but I found it was gorgeous; so male and sexy. I felt so right, being on my knees in front of a man, pleasing him.... After an hour or two, I told David I had to head back to the bed-sit, because I'd left my tampons behind, but that I'd be back later. He offered to give me a lift, but I told him not to be silly, and he accepted that. I asked for my bra, but he said no, and that I was not to wear bras ever again unless told to. I surprised myself by accepting this! I walked back to my bed-sit, feeling like a real tart as my breasts jiggled and swayed under my crop top, as I almost pranced along in my heels. I had to point my toes as I took each step, and my calves were aching a little by the time I got back, but I was pleased with myself - I'd been a real little slut and pleased my man. And I'd please Charles even more! I quickly phoned Charles, and he was really pleased with me, as I'd hoped, and my cock strained in it's cage at the thought of having done so well for my man, and my nipples ached they were so hard, poking out through my top. Charles told me to go back to David and keep him busy for the rest of the day. So, I went back, and David and I made out pretty much the rest of the day, with me practising my cock sucking skills as and when necessary. Strangely, I enjoyed it again, but it was tempered with horror at what I now knew David was up to. David said he'd pick me up the next day, but I said I was going to go window shopping. He insisted, saying he wanted to know I was safe with him, and I agreed. The next day, I picked out another outfit. I wore some really short shorts and a halter neck top, and some high heeled sandals - it was forecast to be a hot day, and I walked off down the street to David. A woman walking the other way gave me a look over, and sneered at me as I walked past on my heels, swaying my bottom, with my breasts jiggling around, but I didn't care - I was going to please my man. David was pleased to see me, but was very tense. At lunchtime, he had the TV and the radio on, and was changing channels to catch all the news programmes. A report came on about a bomb having gone off in a restaurant, and I was horrified - Charles was supposed to have stopped it! What had gone wrong? David reacted funnily; he acted all horrified, but I could see he was acting. But what had gone wrong? Then the news report had an update. The restaurant had been full of mannequins, to make it look as though it was full of diners. And the bomber had been caught red handed. David went white, and said nothing, just sitting there. I almost fainted in relief; I knew that Charles must have arranged this as a trap. Then there was a knock on the door, but David didn't move. I went and opened it to the police, and they came and took David away, who was still in shock. Then Charles was there, and I leaped into his arms, crying like a baby. He held me close, and told me how proud he was of me, and I managed to stop crying, and told him all about what had happened. I also told him I was scared of how much I had liked being with David, and that I was afraid I was gay. Charles told me not to worry, I was female now, so I wasn't gay, and to stop crying. I did, of course, and I put on a brave smiling face for him. He could see I was still tense, of course, and on the drive home he gave me another tape to listen to. Back at the house, we went through to the living room, and I fetched him a beer and then knelt at his feet while he caressed my hair and told me the new rules. I was delighted to be so instructed, and looked forward to pleasing him in any way I could. Then he pulled me forward, and I took his cock into my mouth and gave it the best attention I could, with my own cock raging in it's cage. My master came, and I swallowed, full of joy of having done my job so well. I got up and went to get him another beer, making sure by bottom had plenty of wiggle for his eyes. Life was good, and he hadn't even taken my virginity yet. -- Pauline