The Punishment, Prologue To Chapter 8 free porn video

THE PUNISHMENT A man is unjustly accused of rape. His trial ends in a hung jury. To correct this "miscarriage of justice," a coven of witches punishes him by turning him into a girl and raping him multiple times, and then enacts spells forcing him to become a prostitute, while still remaining a man inside. But s/he manages to build a life with dignity and purpose, and eventually with love and happiness. Table of Contents Prologue 1. North Western Texas State College 2. The Date 3. The Charge 4. The Trial 5. The Coven's Punishment 6. To Las Vegas 7. First Trick 8. The Day After 9. Life as an Escort 10. Life as an Escort - First Pregnancy 11. Life as an Escort - The Dance Troup and Sam 12. Life as an Escort - Special Assignments 13. Life as an Escort - The Rescue 14. Life as an escort - Meeting Danno 15. Life as an Escort - Celia's Detox 16. Life as an Escort - Strange Date 17. Life as an Escort - Meeting Rosemary 18. Life as an Escort - New Apartment 19. Life as an Escort - Date with Hugh Hampton 20. Second Pregnancy, Escaping Las Vegas 21. Reno, Finding Work in the Medical Field 22. Brad, New Friends, and a New Apartment 23. Coping with Spells, Friends Again, and Danno 24. Travel to Thailand, Lily Prepares 25. Spending time with Sam and Family, Meeting Clarisse 26. Big Email from Mitty, Talk with Evelyn 27. Final weeks in Thailand 28. Move to Sam's Place 29. Dealing with the Coven 30. Meeting my Family as Helen 31. Back to Sam's House with Aunt Helen and Mitty 32. Marrying Sam 33. My New Life Epilog Prologue My birth name is Naozumi Elvis Watson. My mother was Japanese, and my father was Caucasian. They named me Naozumi for pure truth and Elvis for wise. My father told me it was a statement of my parents' values and hopes. I've never felt particularly wise, but there is still time. My Japanese family called me Naozumi. My American family called me Elvis in my early years. However, that led to a lot of teasing in school, so I shortened it to just Al. My parents had met when my father, Alan, was working in the American Embassy. My mother, Kyoko, was way past the normal age of marriage in Japan. But she fell in love with Alan. He was tall and handsome and had a very responsible position and a good salary. My father was on the rebound from a bitter divorce. He was strongly attracted to the sweet and beautiful Japanese woman who catered to him in most things. They were both very well-intentioned and tried hard to provide a good life for me, and later for my sister. The stereotype of an Asian woman is that she is disciplined, hard-working, and achievement-oriented. My mother did not fit that stereotype. She was very high strung and vulnerable and was miserable when my father finished his time in Japan and moved us back to the US. Not that he mistreated her. He was a gentle, kindly man and always did what he could to make my mother happy. But it wasn't enough. Based on what I know of her and what I learned in a course I took in Army medic training; I think my mother may have been bipolar. After staying in Texas for a couple of years and trying to adjust, my mother decided she had enough and took me and went home to Japan. This return home reflected dishonor on her family in Japan. But more important, her parents were old- school and felt she and her son belonged with her husband. They gave her a good talking to and sent her back. My mother stayed on in America for a while more. In the process, my sister was born. Her name was Mitsuko Phoebe Watson. My mother made me take care of my sister most of the time, a very unusual arrangement for a boy in either Japan or America. But, I must not have minded, and my sister and I were very close. Then when my mother couldn't stand Texas any longer, she had two children to bring back to Japan. In Japan, we stayed with my mother's parents. They were very nice people, and I became close to them. I was lucky that I had some talent with language and picked up Japanese quickly, so I did well in school. I became thoroughly imbued with Japanese culture. However, unlike most Japanese boys, I still spent a lot of time caring for my sister. For several years I was happy In Japan. My mother usually seemed happy, but at times she was unapproachable, not responding even to my sister and me. Being home with her family did not solve my mother's problems. One day when my sister and I were out with our grandparents, she committed suicide by taking a full bottle of sleeping pills. Suicide always deeply affects friends and relatives and especially impacted me. I nine at the time and was too young to understand why she might do such a thing. I remember thinking that I must somehow have caused my mother's unhappiness. Fortunately, my sister was only two and didn't recognize the enormity of what had happened to us. My sister and I now had no support in Japan. My grandparents loved us, but we were children of late middle age and my grandparents now way too old to care for us through high school. My Japanese aunts and uncles looked at my sister and me and saw Americans, not Japanese, and did not want to raise us. So, against my wishes, we were sent back to America to our father, a man now in his late fifties. He was kindly, but still worked and could hardly care by himself for two young children. Fortunately for us, my father's sister, Marge, came to live with him about that time. Her husband had severe drinking and gambling problems. Aunt Marge and her husband fought constantly. He drifted into abusing her and his children when he was drunk, which was often. Finally, Aunt Marge left him, and the courts awarded her child support and their house. Unfortunately, her ex-husband soon lost his job and was living on the streets in Seattle and was unable to pay support or pay for the mortgage. Aunt Marge and the two children still living with her were now in dire straits. My aunt had no college and only limited job experience and was living in a part of the country with an extremely high cost of living. She tried sharing an apartment with a friend who also had a couple of children, but her friend had her own problems with alcohol. So, when my father offered to let Aunt Marge live with him, she jumped at the chance. Suddenly I was part of a household with four children. My father's pension and job were not enough to care for all of us. So, my Aunt worked part-time as a waitress, and my father worked part-time as a watchman at a business park on the weekend. They were both loving parents. This was good since my aunt's two younger children were very angry at the breakup of their family. To my two stepsiblings, Mitsuko and I were symbols of that breakup. My stepsiblings had no use for us and we learned to stay out of their way. My older stepsister, Linda, ran with a rough crowd, dressed as a goth, got numerous piercings and tattoos. She did very poorly in school, despite having once been a star student. My father and aunt spent a lot of time trying to get her through high school. Ultimately, they failed. My stepsister lived on the streets in Dallas for a while. I remember the fights Linda had with Aunt Marge, blaming Aunt Marge for driving her father away and onto the streets. But all sympathy for her father stopped when Linda drifted into a lesbian relationship. She suddenly announced she hated all men, including her father and my father, who she called a fascist. I went on the web and looked up 'fascist' and didn't see how it applied. True, my father was conventional and organized, but he was far from dogmatic or violent. He was one of the gentlest men I have ever known. Additionally, my stepsister became a vegan and declined to visit us at all because our food was unsuitable, not to mention immoral. That didn't prevent her from asking Aunt Marge for frequent 'loans.' My stepbrother, Zak, went in a different direction. He was an excellent athlete. He started for the high school football team, and eventually got a scholarship and attended college. He got deep into southern culture and even attended a KKK rally with some of his friends. I remember him emphasizing to his friends that I wasn't really his brother. I guess having an Asian stepbrother was embarrassing. But Zak also had his share of problems though, including drugs and minor theft. However, being on the football team pushed Zak in a more positive direction, although he never changed his attitude toward my sister and me. Despite the turbulence that my two stepsiblings brought, I and my sister's relationship with each other and with my aunt and my father was excellent. Our two parents were warm and encouraging and always seemed to find time to do things with us when we needed it. When my step-siblings were gone, we formed a small, tightly knit family unit filled with care and love. My sister and I always worried that my aunt would marry one of several men she dated through the years and leave us. We later learned that my aunt just refused to hear of breaking up our little family. If my father had remarried, it might have been different. But absent that my aunt committed to us. We truly loved her. She was a sweet, loving mother. My sister and I patterned ourselves after my father and aunt. I remember I was very close to my father and wanted to be just like him. My youth was generally happy. I was active in scouts and loved camping, eventually doing the project required to become an eagle scout. True, a few people avoided me, apparently not wanting to associate with an Asian. But most people weren't prejudiced like that and I made many good friends. I dated several girls, but none consistently. My relationship with my sister continued to be very good, and I was very protective, once grabbing a little jerk who was teasing her for being Asian. I remember that once I had him, I didn't know what to do with him. My father had never modeled violent behavior. Eventually, I just put him over my knee and spanked him a couple of times. I don't know if that was the right thing to do, but it felt like it at the time. Fortunately, I didn't get into trouble for it. One problem was that my aunt could not get good health insurance by herself and fathers' health insurance would not cover her. Even though we were a family, Aunt Marge did not fit the definition of a significant other. So, when she came down with breast cancer, Medicaid covered some of her treatment, but my father had to cover the rest out of his savings. This severely depleted his resources and meant he would not be able to help me or my sister attend college. I was unusual in that I loved my classes in high school, especially science. I decided I wanted to do research in physics or biology or maybe become a doctor. My high school grades were very good, but not quite good enough for a full-ride academic scholarship. One of my friends implied my good grades must be due to 'Japanese' genes. If he knew how hard I had to work for those grades, he wouldn't have said that. I was too small for football but developed an interest in soccer. I played club soccer and made the high school team and was all-city as a senior. Soccer was not a prestige sport in Dallas, and there were no full-ride scholarships available to the local universities. Therefore, when I finally graduated from high school, it was not clear what would come next. Although my father was a gentle man, he was a patriot and advised me to go into the army. My aunt strongly disagreed. I guess she hated the thought of me being hurt in the ongoing wars in the middle east. Of course, I was young and male and invulnerable and thought I would live forever, so I didn't give her worries any credence. I talked to an Army recruiter and learned that the GI bill would enable me to attend college, so I joined up. I decided that I wanted to be a medic as it would be good experience for becoming a doctor. Good grades in high school biology got me into the medic program. My military career was generally unremarkable for the time. I was in for the four years I signed up for, and then was involuntarily extended. I had three tours in the middle east and earned two medals for bravery for exposing myself to unfriendly fire to get other soldiers to safety. In all, I made lots of friends and was well-liked by my army fellows. I felt a lot of stress when I was in the middle east. We all knew that many Afghans hated Americans. So, I tended to look at all locals as potential assassins. In retrospect, that was unfair. However, enough hated us that we had to be constantly on guard. On my last tour in the middle east, I was riding in a jeep that triggered an IED, and I received a minor injury. The IED killed a friend who was sitting right next to me. That was not the first of my friends whom to die. I decided that I had had enough and applied for a discharge from the army while in a hospital in Maryland. While the Army was considering my request, I received word that my father had a heart attack and was in serious condition. It was not a surprise. He had been over 50 when I was born and was now over 70 years old, and he had a family history of heart trouble. I sent in a new application for discharge, including my father's illness. After thinking about it for three months, the army granted me a discharge in July 2015. When I arrived home, a lot had changed. My father was in a nursing home, my aunt was working full time, and my sister had a part-time job in a fast- food restaurant. I volunteered to forgo college to help the family. But despite their circumstances, my father, aunt, and sister all urged me to start school. It was the right time because now I had the GI Bill and some money my father had saved for my college. This might be my only opportunity. The love I felt for my aunt, father, and sister at that moment was beyond measure. I am proud of saving a little of the money I received from the GI bill and sending it home every month I was in college. 1. North Western Texas State College I applied to several colleges in Texas and matriculated at North Western Texas State College on the other side of Texas. The tuition was relatively cheap. And I was able to get a part-time job assisting in a campus office. With that and the GI bill and the little money my father had saved, I could afford tuition and board without borrowing money. My father urged me to pledge the Alpha Sigma Fraternity that he had joined when he was in college. He said living in fraternities was as economical as living in dorms and would give me instant friendships when I arrived. So I pledged to make him happy. The Alpha Sigma was prestigious and would not have been interested in an Asian student except I was a 'legacy,' i.e., I was the son of an alumnus of the fraternity. I moved into the fraternity when I arrived at North Western Texas State Fall Quarter. Most of the members respected my military service. However, it only took a few hostile people to ruin it, and I soon decided to leave after my freshman year. There was one guy, Hugh Hampton, who for some reason did not like me at all. Hugh was 6'5" and a tight end on the football team. He appeared to have a bright future in the NFL after college. What made him particularly hateful was that he was contemptuous of veterans in general. He expressed the opinion that they were all losers who couldn't get into college or they were idealistic fools who let themselves get talked into doing something stupid that might kill them. I had more than one confrontation with Hugh. Once, I expressed a point of view that he opposed. He called me a pussy and said I would never be anything unless I grew some balls. We almost fought, but one of his friends pointed out that I had six years of combat experience. So, he backed down a little. Probably a good thing for me because he was 6' 5" and 250 pounds to my 5' 9" and 160 pounds. Three weeks after school began, I received word that my father passed away. I left school for a week to attend the funeral. Lots of people came. Many in the local community and many former state department associates liked and respected him. His former wife and son and daughter came. I got a chance to chat with them and got a better insight into the split that led to him marrying my mother. No one attended from Japan, which didn't surprise me given that we had not maintained close contact. It did surprise me that neither of my Aunt's younger children bothered to come to the funeral. My father had given them a home for years and supported them with time and money. They could at least have acknowledged it. I volunteered a second time to leave school and help my aunt and sister, but again they wouldn't hear of it. So, I went back to school and spent several weeks catching up in class and soccer. 2. The Date Then one incident changed my life. I had had a couple of casual dates at college, but I met one girl at a fraternity mixer who greatly attracted me, April Hauser. She was a lovely girl who had the type of body and features that I admired. She was slender, with dark curly hair, about 5' 4" and 110 pounds. She was very intelligent. And she was athletic, running track in high school. And I loved her laugh. She was a member of the Gamma Nu Sorority. The Gamma Nu's were the snootiest sorority on campus and generally had their pick of boys. I tried to talk to April a bit, but she ignored me. So, I wrote her off and just pined for her privately, although I did tell several of my fellow pledges of my infatuation. The next week I had a rapprochement with one of the fraternity members who previously had seemed not to like me much, a Sophomore name Jimmy Benson. He had a date the following weekend with Betty Ross, a member of Gamma Nu. For safety, the Gamma Nus encouraged first dates to be double dates. So, this other member was trying to set up a double date with her friend, April. But that meant that April's date would probably have to be an Alpha Sigma. Would I be interested? You bet. The date was the next weekend. Jimmy had a car, and he and I picked up Betty and April. We went to a concert in the park. It had some very nice music. We sat on the grass and listened and talked. Then we took the girls to a restaurant for dinner. All of us were 18, so we could drink. I ordered a light beer. To my surprise, Jimmy and Betty and April each ordered a mixed drink, and then another. I had never been much of a drinker, but I ordered another beer to avoid being the odd man out. I noticed that April was not particularly friendly. I asked Jimmy if he knew why while the girls were in the bathroom. He told me that Betty had remarked that April didn't particularly care for small men or for Asians. I was more than a little pissed off. She might have said something before I spent my entire month's mad money on this date. So, when the girls came back, I abandoned my attempts to be friendly and just sat there and scowled. I admit it wasn't a mature response. After a while, I left for the bathroom. When I returned, the other three had ordered a third mixed drink. I just sipped my beer and wondered when this evening would end. Soon I noticed that the girls seemed to be sloppy drunk. And I seemed to be zoning out too. The only one who seemed sober was Jimmy. Jimmy asked the waiter to bring us the check, which he and I split, and then we all somehow managed to get out to his car. He later said he drove back to the Gamma Nu sorority, but you couldn't prove it by me. I passed out soon after we got into the car. I woke up in bed the next morning with a splitting headache. My asshole, balls, and penis ached like someone had kicked me in the crotch. But I had no memory of what had happened after I got into the car, so I didn't know. I just laid there for an hour trying to find a posture that didn't hurt. Finally, I got up and went down to breakfast, even though the thought of food nearly gagged me. The breakfast served in the fraternity was over, but there was still coffee and rolls. I sat at a table and drank some coffee and picked at a roll, with a headache throbbing in the background. Hugh noticed me and came in and called me a pussy for looking like I was out of it. But I didn't care what he thought, and certainly didn't feel like fighting. 3. The Charge About 11:30, a police officer came in and asked me if I was Al Watson. I said yes, and he informed me I was under arrest for the rape of April Hauser. He asked if would I come quietly or should they cuff me and drag me out of the fraternity house? I said I would come quietly. But then another officer came up and turned me around and put on handcuffs and the two frog-marched me out to their squad car. They took me to the city jail, where they booked me and put me in a large cell with many other inmates. I was scared as hell, but I felt so crappy that I actually laid down and went back to sleep. I was awoken at 8 AM Monday by a visit from a lawyer for the Alpha Sigma's. He asked, "Do you want me to represent you?" Sitting in a jail cell feeling only slightly better than the day before, I realized I needed help and said yes. He asked, "What happened Saturday night?" I answered, "I don't know. A friend and I and two girls and went to a concert and out to dinner. We were drinking. That's all I remember." He said, "You're being charged with rape. I can't do much until I find out the particulars from the prosecutor, which could be a while. In the meantime, plead 'not guilty' and don't talk to anyone else unless I am present. We can change the plea later if you want." Then he left. Later that morning, I was arraigned. I pled not guilty as my lawyer wanted. The judge said there would be a bail hearing later in the week. I was taken back to jail and put back in the big cell. I sat there for the next three days with no visitors and nothing to do. I tried not to talk to anybody at first because I'd heard that other prisoners might twist what I said to improve their cases. But after a while it became too oppressive to be alone. So, I told other inmates I had been charged with rape but was innocent. Although they pretended to believe me, I was sure they all had their doubts. Hell, I had my doubts. After that, they transferred me to a smaller cell with three other inmates. I made friends with one guy, a fellow veteran who was charged with theft from a grocery store. He had gotten out of the service with PTSD and was unable to hold a job. He wound up on the streets on heroin. Despite that, he was a bright guy when he was sober. And he had some legal experience. I asked what he thought of my case. He said, "Well, I don't know enough about the evidence, but if this jurisdiction requires some corroboration, you might be acquitted." I replied, "I didn't know what happened, but if I was guilty, I wanted to be punished." He told me, "Don't be an idiot. You've told me your family needs you, so you need to fight to stay out of jail." My bail hearing was Wednesday. I wasn't too excited, thinking that any significant bail at all would keep me in jail. But the hearing was a break in a very dull and depressing routine, so I welcomed it. My lawyer asked for release on my own recognizance since I had no record and was an honorably discharged veteran with three medals for courage under fire. The opposing attorney argued for holding me without bail because of the seriousness of the charge. The judge split the difference and came up with $100,000 bail. I could have maybe raised $1500. The lawyer urged me to talk to a bail bondsman. But I had no prospects of paying a loan back, and I absolutely would not allow my aunt to mortgage her house, again. So, I stayed in jail. Before we left the courtroom, an officer came by with a court order and took a mouth swab for DNA evidence. Two weeks later, one of the other pledges at Alpha Sigma, named Frank Roberts, visited and brought down my mail, which had to be checked in and examined by the guards before I could get it. Aside from general happenings on campus and in the fraternity, Frank mainly told me a lot of news that related to the rape. He told me that the Gamma Nu sorority had sponsored a teach-in on campus about rape where my picture was displayed front and center. April had been present at all of them and talked about how devastated she was at being taken advantage of and how it had destroyed her trust in men. Jimmy had told other fraternity members that he had driven from the restaurant directly to the sorority and had helped his date into the sorority, intending to come back and get April when he done. In the meantime, I was asleep in the car, alone with April. When he got back, we were gone. He didn't know what had happened. Before he left, I prevailed on Frank to get me some envelopes and stamps and pens, so I could write to my Aunt and tell her what was happening. She had canceled her phone service because of her finances. A couple of hours later, the guards gave me my mail and the envelopes and stamps that Frank had brought. Apparently, Frank had gone right to a store and given them to the guards right away. I would have to thank him when I saw him again. In my mail, I had a check from the VA with my college benefits. And I had a check and a notice of job termination from my campus employer. There was also a letter from my aunt asking what was happening. I wrote back and described the situation, saying that I didn't know what had happened on the night of the rape. I signed the VA check and the check from my campus employer and sent them to my Aunt and told her to take them. I couldn't use them. I wrote the college and requested a leave of absence from school. I also wrote the VA and told them I had to drop out of college, so they should not send any more checks. Damn it all. A few days later, my lawyer came by to discuss the case. He informed me that a DNA test had verified that my semen was present in the victim after the alleged rape. That got me down on myself, that I had raped a girl. I thought of myself as total scum. I told him, "So, I actually did that thing. God, I'm a monster. I want to change my plea to guilty." He said, "Hold on a minute. I think you still have a chance to get off. Neither you nor the victim remembers being conscious after you got in the car. It could have been consensual." I asked, "What do you mean? I thought she accused me of raping her." My lawyer said, "She said she remembers some violence and she certainly had physical signs of trauma, but it could have been consensual or from a previous sexual encounter. She won't say she directly remembers you raping her. Then he said, "The judge assigned is a veteran, and used to be a member of a fraternity. That means you will get a fair shake." I asked, "Shouldn't he recuse himself?" My lawyer said, "That is certainly what the prosecutor will ask, but there is no direct connection to you, so I don't think the judge will do it." I replied, "How about I plead guilty to a lesser charge?" The lawyer said, "I doubt the prosecutor will go for that. This is now a high-profile case, and he wants a conviction." I said, "Let's ask." Through my lawyer, I offered to plead guilty to 'Indecent Liberties.' But as my lawyer predicted, the prosecutor and numerous activist women groups convinced April to reject that offer. A week later, my Aunt visited me. The way she looked at me was painful, thinking that I had done this horrible thing. But in the end, my aunt said that if I did not remember raping this girl, she believed I had not and offered to testify to my character. I thanked her and said I would ask my lawyer. My trial was three months later, although it seemed like a year sitting in jail. The only regular visitor I had was Frank. But in talking to him, I learned that he was not visiting me out of friendship. The fraternity had asked him to visit, so they could keep track of what was happening. That took some of my gratitude away. But I was still happy to see him. My lawyer visited once more just before the trial. I asked him who was paying for his time, and it turned out he was an alumnus of the Alpha Sigma fraternity and had been asked to represent me Pro Bono. The fraternity did not want the black eye that would result if I were convicted or pled guilty. 4. The Trial The trial started with jury selection. My lawyer went through all his fifteen peremptory challenges and also another ten challenges for cause. In the process, he managed to keep some people who seemed to have made up their minds already off the jury. And he got two female and one male veterans on the jury, along with an alumnus of another fraternity. But most of the jury were still women who seemed to me to be predisposed to a guilty verdict. So I expected to spend the next 30 years in prison. My aunt was present at the trial, but not my sister. I was grateful. I did not want Mitty to see me like this. April testified, including a statement I had not heard before, that I was unfriendly and threatening during the date. I did remember being unfriendly after Jimmy had told me that April did not like me because I was Asian, but I didn't remember being threatening. I told my lawyer about that, but he decided not to use it during cross-examination. Another piece of evidence that I didn't anticipate was that April had taken a self-defense course and that they taught her to try to knee or kick attackers in the groin. The prosecutor asked, "Do you remember kicking your attacker in the groin sometime during the attack?" April replied, "Yes, I think so." My lawyer cross-examined, "You think?" She said, "Yes, my memories of that night are hazy. But I'm almost sure I did." My lawyer was very aggressive and also got her to admit that she didn't specifically remember me raping her. But on recross, she said, "I remembered being hit and forced to have anal and vaginal sex and, after all, who else was there?" My being the one raping her was corroborated somewhat by Jimmy's statement about leaving April and me alone in the car. Jimmy also testified that I had complained about severe pain in the groin the morning after the rape, as though I had been kicked or kneed in the groin. Then there was evidence given by an expert about my DNA matching the rape kit. My lawyer did not even cross-examine him. My lawyer objected when the prosecutor tried to bring in character attacks by Hugh and his friends. The judge eventually did not allow any testimony on my character at all, so my aunt could not say that I had been a good boy and had never been abusive to women when I had lived at home. My lawyer told me that preventing my Aunt from testifying was the sole reason the prosecution tried to call Hugh. After all the evidence and closing arguments, both women veterans on the jury voted not guilty. I almost collapsed in relief. But it was a hung jury, and the prosecutor could retry me. My lawyer successfully argued that I had been in jail for four months without being convicted of anything, so I should not be required to stay in jail while the prosecutor was considering his options. The judge agreed and released me on my own recognizance, with a warning not to leave town. My lawyer told me privately that he thought there would not be a retrial. Not only had the two women voted no, but several other jurors had expressed some doubts in post-trial interviews. But he said he would not be able to represent me at any retrial. He needed to spend his time on cases where he would be paid. Plus, he had accomplished his goal, providing cover for the fraternity. Of course, April, the Gamma Nu Sorority, virtually all women on campus, and most men on campus were outraged at the verdict. I couldn't blame them, I was a little outraged at the various games both lawyers had played, And I had now become convinced of my guilt. I felt I deserved punishment. 5. The Coven's Punishment After my release from jail, the fraternity refused to allow me to return even for a few minutes, despite having arranged for my defense. I didn't want to go home and embarrass my Aunt and Sister. So, I tried staying in a park for a few days. But the homeless somehow heard about who I was, and I was driven from the park. I tried staying at locales in the city without a large homeless population. In one place, someone recognized me, and I was rousted and forced to move. So, I learned to cover my face and stay away from everyone so I wouldn't be recognized, not easy since there were so few Asians in the town. I was thinking about trying to ride the rails west and see if I could find a place to live and start over. Of course, the Judge had told me to stay in town. But he hadn't said how long. So, I thought it might be OK to leave. I decided to go to court and ask them what was going on and whether I was free to leave. However, I was woken from sleep the next morning by several enormous women who held a handkerchief to my nose. It must have had a drug of some sort in it because I became unconscious. I awoke on a farm, which I later learned was not too far from town. I was gagged and hog-tied and laid in a room for several hours. Then I was brought before a tribunal of the leaders of the Gamma Nu Sorority. I was scared as hell. I expected to be either castrated or killed or both, but they had other options available. They read the charges and a summary of the evidence from the trial and asked me to respond. As best I could I repeat the defense attorney's arguments that April had not been able to positively say she remembered me raping her, so it might have been consensual. They laughed at that and pronounced me guilty as charged. Then the trial became even weirder. The president of the sorority asked me if I had ever heard rumors that a coven of witches led the sorority. I replied "No," and she said "Good, our secret is safe. Your punishment is going to involve witchcraft and will make you appreciate what April has gone through. It will make you wish you had never done what you did. The first part of your punishment is for us to turn you into a woman and rape you as you raped April." I thought they were out of their minds, but that didn't matter. They dragged me into a pentagram marked on the floor in white with candles placed at the corners, and the president said some words I could not understand. I started feeling strange like my whole body was changing, but I couldn't see anything because I was hogtied and lying on my face. After a couple of hours, they came and put out the candles and untied me, stripped me, and dragged me in front of a mirror. I was terrified when I saw that I was much smaller and thinner than before and that I had a feminine figure, including small breasts. After that, the sorority president taunted me and asked how it felt to be a helpless woman. I couldn't think of any response. They said this was not my punishment. After all, being a woman was an improvement, not a punishment. My punishment would come next. The president of the sorority dragged me to a room in a nearby house. She pulled up her dress, and I was surprised to see a huge cock. And, somehow, she had made herself bigger and stronger. She was now over six feet tall and very muscular, while I was 5' 6" and petite, much like April. I tried to flee, but the woman contemptuously grabbed me and put my arm behind my back. When I tried to fall to the ground, she picked me up casually and threw me on a bed. She attached electrified metal clips to my new breasts and forced me to give her oral sex or receive painful shocks. Then she raped me. I tried to resist, but she punched and slapped me. The sorority president did not apply any lubricant before she pushed her cock into me. I think I had been a virgin at first. I screamed at the pain. My rapist just laughed at me and said, now I knew how it felt. Then she repeated the process anally. But it was not over. Many others in the coven took a turn, each with a special way to extract pleasure and cause pain. I tried to fight back at first and was beaten and tortured for my efforts. I did not resist after that, lying still and accepting what came. But that did not satisfy most of them, and they found ways to make me react. They taunted and tortured until I screamed. One rapist made me say I wanted her to hurt and rape me in various ways. Another bent my fingers back until I admitted that I raped April and that I deserved their punishments. And I had to thank her every time I was struck or shocked or raped. It seemed like it went on forever. April was one of the rapists. She pretended she was reluctant to hurt me, but said she had to in order to save other women from me. She told me how much she despised me and how she wished she had never heard of me. Her hatred hurt badly because I had cared for her once. It seemed like this went on forever, but finally, it was over. Then I just curled up into a ball and cried. My injuries were very painful, and I couldn't sleep for the nightmares. I cringed at every sound, thinking one of the witches might be coming back for a second go. But worst of all, I hated myself. I felt that I deserved these punishments because I had raped April. I felt I was a horrible person, a man who used and hurt women, the sort of man I had always hated. I even contemplated suicide. That had a special terror for me. My mother had been mentally unstable and had committed suicide, and I knew that sort of thing runs in families. But I had never thought about suicide before. Now I did. I sincerely wished I was dead. I couldn't face knowing how bad a person I was. I thought about how I might end it, but I couldn't think of a way at the current time. I knew that eventually, an opportunity would arise, and I would do what I now felt was best. After an eternity, I saw the sun stream into the bedroom. I didn't react. I didn't think it mattered whether it was night or day. But the sun marked a new day and a new punishment. The two women who had abducted me the day before came into the room where I was being held and grabbed me and applied pressure to my wrists and hands to force me to walk down the hall to the bathroom and told me to take a bath. I just stood there. One of them slapped me and said, "Do what I tell you." I started to cry, and she said, "Do we have to beat you to make you do what we say?" I shook my head. But I said, "Can I go to the bathroom?" She laughed and said, "Sure. Be sure to wipe front to back." I looked at her blankly. She said, "To prevent infection, stupid." I had thought to step up to the toilet and pee like always, but her comment made me realize that I couldn't anymore. Then, I asked, "Can I take a shower, instead of a bath?" The woman in charge said, "Take a bath." So, I drew a bath and stepped in. It was hotter than I expected, so I added cold water and sat down. She handed me a bar of soap and told me to scrub up. It was odd, having to scrub my new body parts. The woman taught me how to clean my vagina. Then she gave me some feminine shampoo, and I tried to wash my hair. It had grown to shoulder-length, part of the spell I guess. I had to apply shampoo twice to get it to lather up. Next, I rinsed, and she gave me some conditioner, which again was a chore to distribute evenly in my hair. Then I got out of the tub, and she gave me instructions for drying it. It seemed to take forever. But when done, I felt a little better. They took me back to the bedroom. An outfit had been laid out on the bed I had been raped on the night before. It had sexy women's panties and bra, a blouse that was quite small and seemed to hug my waist and did not hide my stomach completely. And it had a short pink miniskirt. I wanted to complain that this was too short and I would be cold, but I knew I would not get any sympathy. Then I was sat down, and another woman came in and showed me how to apply makeup. At first, I wasn't listening, but I was encouraged with a hard slap. After that, I was given some flip flops and told to come along. I asked, "Where?" She told me to come along, or they would drag me. I came out to where the coven had changed me from man to woman, and the president of the sorority told me, "We are going to apply some additional changes. Will you sit quietly while we do, or do we need to tie you up? It will be better for you to know what we are doing. You will need to live with it." I replied, "I'll sit quietly." So, they brought me into the pentagram and sat me down and lighted the final candle, and then the president once again started saying some mumbo jumbo. There was another woman who stood just outside the pentagon and told me what it all meant. I thought of her as 'the interpreter.' Her name was Evelyn. First, the interpreter told me that the coven had convicted me of rape and had given me two punishments. The first, yesterday, was to show me how it felt to be a woman and to be raped. She said, "I think you now know what it feels like." I nodded. She continued, "The second punishment will separate you from society and your former life. So, you will not be able to hurt anyone for a long period, even if still inclined to do so. This punishment will also include provisions for reform. It will teach you to sympathize with women, especially abused women. Had the courts done their duty, this punishment would have happened in prison. But we do not operate a prison. So, we must apply this punishment in another way. You will remain a woman. We will enact further spells on you. You will not be able to talk to, call, email, text, or otherwise contact former associates. You must always dress and wear makeup as a woman. You will need to be with a man, even though you are still a man inside. And you will need to be with an abusive man sometimes. You will enjoy being mistreated and will orgasm during rough sex. You will need rough sex every week, or you would become unhappy, melancholy, nervous, and angry. Eventually, you would be unable to function at all. The countdown for your first week starts tomorrow. There will be other spells to keep you from escaping your punishment. And there will be spells that will help you be accepted as a woman. Inclusion in the community of women will help you gain sympathy for them. This phase of your punishment will last 30 years, to match the sentence of 30 years in prison the court should have given you after conviction. We will send an observer every few years to evaluate how you are doing. If you are behaving well, we will consider a shorter sentence. I.e., you might receive parole. I asked, "And after 30 years, will I become my old self again?" The interpreter said, "If you wish." Then the interpreter said, "You should know that many in the coven wanted to turn you into a frog. They thought a rapist did not deserve to live as a human and could never be rehabilitated. So, in a way, the punishment you are getting is a kindness." I did not react. I wished the coven had just done away with me. What I had experienced yesterday went far beyond what was needed to show how a woman would feel after rape. The participants had enjoyed dominating me and had enjoyed my pain. Their outrage had provided an excuse to transcend the bounds that ethics and basic considerations for other people place on human behavior. The excuse that yesterday's experience had been visited on me to improve me was ludicrous. I felt more fearful and isolated, with much less emotional connection to people in general than before. The interpreter looked at me and guessed what I was thinking. She said, "You are angry now. I hope the second phase of your punishment will allow you to put things in perspective." I looked at her and thought, 'My God, how can having no human relationships except abusive ones allow me to put things in perspective? What a farce. This is pure retribution. Nothing else.' But I said nothing. Then the spells were cast. I will list all of them from both days for reference. The spells on the first night are the first five listed: 1. I would become a woman. Both X chromosomes would be identical to the one I had had as a man. My other chromosomes would remain unchanged. So, I would have the general appearance of a Japanese American woman. 2. My age was regressed to be the same as April's. 3. I would be slenderer than April and would not be able to develop any increased strength in my body beyond 90% of what April had had at the time of the rape. 4. This spell enhanced my appearance to the maximum extent allowed by my genetics. 5. This spell protected me from STDs. 6. This spell healed my wounds from the first night. The pains in my body left me. The pain in my soul did not. 7. I could not contact any of my former friends or relatives. 8. I could not commit suicide to escape my sentence. 9. I would always dress and fix myself up in a feminine manner. 10. For the next 30 years, I would have a very high libido toward men while remaining a man. I would be turned on by being with a man while being repelled by it at the same time. 11. I would need to have abusive sex every week, starting tomorrow. If not, I would get progressively more agitated and unhappy until after another week; I would be unable to function in even the most basic fashion. 12. I would get a new identity as the girl child of my parents born on the same day as Elvis but seven years later. After all the spells were cast and the pentagon demolished, I stood up and wondered what to do. Most of the witches seemed to want to ignore me. A few continued the taunting, staying a few feet away from me, telling me I was still a rapist and now would be a whore. No one threatened me, but I could well believe some had wanted to have me turned into a frog and released to die. The interpreter remained. She saw the look of worry on my face and told me, "Look, this punishment could be horrible. It could turn you into a cheap whore who goes from abusive john to abusive john. Or you could feel compelled to be in a permanent relationship with a sadist. But I fought to structure the spells to give you a chance to establish a life with some dignity and meaning. You only need to be with an abuser one day a week. The other six days, you can have a somewhat normal life. And you can be accepted as another woman by those you deal with, provided you can learn to accept yourself. You are attractive, so you can be an escort rather than just a whore. I can connect you to an organization that will screen your johns to reduce danger. They do allow some abusive Johns, which you need. But you have some protection. Do you want that?" I realized that she was a friend, or as close to a friend as I had now. Had she been one of my rapists yesterday? I didn't remember, but I doubted it. None of them showed any consideration or concern for me. But this woman was offering me help. So, I said, "Yes. Please." She took out her cell phone and made a call. She talked to someone about me, saying I was very young looking and beautiful and willing and liked rough sex. She said I had no money, and I would need transportation. And I had limited clothing, so I would need help there. Then she said, "OK, ..., OK ..., OK ...." Finally, she looked at me and said, "You have a flight to Las Vegas tomorrow at 11. And the escort service provides a clothing package for its girls. You will have to pay for these using loans at 10%/month interest. So, you should repay them as soon as possible." I asked, "What kind of a clothing package? Some kind of a uniform?" She answered, "They want you to be able to dress provocatively, but also with some class. Their johns are well off. Most of them don't want to fuck women who look cheap." I grimaced at that, and she said, "Look, it is to your benefit to look good. Men treat women who look good much better than those who don't. That is something all women know." I nodded. Then she handed me a purse. I asked, "What's this?" She said, "I have prepared a purse with some of the necessities a woman would normally carry. It has a wallet with a new ID." I took it out and saw a Texas ID of a type issued for identification in place of a driver's license for those who don't drive. It had a picture of me as I now was. I was Akira Helen Watson with Elvis's birth date but seven years later than Elvis's. I was born in Nagawa, Japan, as was Elvis. My parents were still Alan and Kyoko Watson. I also had a social security card with the same SSAN as Elvis but made out in the name of Akira Helen Watson. That was a little worrisome because SSAN's are frequently a form of ID. The timing was all messed up because my parents weren't living in Japan at the given birth date, but it was unlikely anyone would ever notice such details unless I were getting a security clearance. The picture looked young, younger than I remember April looking. I supposed that was due to the slenderness spell combined with the beauty spell. I mentioned the timing issue to Evelyn, and she said, "Maybe the details have changed. Your high school records are the same as Elvis's. You are in last year's Tempah High School yearbook, although Elvis's is still in the yearbook for seven years earlier. And you are identified as a soccer player with similar awards as Elvis, and you took the same classes and got the same grades as Elvis. However, I'm afraid Helen is not a veteran. Sorry." I had been proud of my service and was sad to lose any record of it. The interpreter said, "You can stay with me tonight. Get your stuff together, and we'll go." I asked where the men's clothes I had when I was brought here had would up. She showed me, and I took Elvis's wallet out of the pants. It was empty. The interpreter did not know what happened to the contents. I rolled the pants and shirt and underwear up and put them with a few other things. I don't know why I kept them; they wouldn't fit me now. Most everyone else had left by this time. The two of us walked alone, unmolested, to Evelyn's car and drove back to Collegeville. For the first time in a while, I thought about the future. There were some things I needed. I had one set of personal clothes that I could wear, and I was wearing them. What would I wear when they became dirty? I asked the interpreter about some more clothes. She told me we could stop at a thrift store. She would loan me $50. I could talk to the escort service about getting more personal, casual clothing if I wanted, or I could wait until I earned enough on my own. Second, I had heard the president say the countdown for the abusive sex spell started the next day. That could be interpreted to mean my second punishment did not start until tomorrow. Maybe I could persuade the Interpreter to allow me to retrieve some things from my fraternity tonight. I had some pictures I would like to have, of my mother and my father and sister, and of my aunt who had been so good to me. I also had some clothes that might fit, a sweater, a coat, a couple of baseball caps. And I might have some mail from my aunt or sister. The interpreter was not happy about the idea of me retrieving anything from my former life. But my arguments eventually won her over. She had been very opposed to the things the coven had done to me and could be persuaded to push the limits of my punishment. First, we stopped at the thrift store. The interpreter picked out an outfit suitable for flying to Vegas and walking around. Then she dropped me off near my fraternity. I walked to the door and knocked and asked for Frank. He came to the door. There aren't many Japanese in Collegeville, so he guessed that I was a relative of Al. I said Al had asked me to pick up his clothing, and any other personal effects, including recent mail. Although the fraternity didn't need any of that stuff and didn't want it, Frank wouldn't give it to me. I kept talking and trying to be friendly and persuasive. Eventually, he said that if I gave him what he wanted; he would give me what I wanted. Even I was smart enough to figure out what that meant. My last night in that fraternity, I snuck up to his room and gave him a blow job while he played with my tits. He came in my mouth, and I swallowed to get rid of it cleanly. Yech. When I walked away from the fraternity, the interpreter's car appeared, almost by magic. I was crying and told her what I had had to do, and she shook her head and sympathized with me. When we got to her home, I went through my men's clothes from the fraternity and found a few things I could use and put them aside. I also put aside my tablet, my cell phone and charger, and my earbuds, and pictures of my family. The cell phone and tablet had been sitting unused for several months and were dead. I plugged them in to charge. I also put aside a small box containing personal effects from the service, including a pistol I had picked up in Afghanistan and a stiletto. And I put aside some mail. I put the rest of the stuff, including the men's clothing I had been wearing when I was abducted, in a pile and asked the interpreter to give it to goodwill or throw it out, whatever. I transferred the phone and earbuds to a purse Evelyn had convinced me to get at the thrift store and put the rest of the stuff I wanted to save into a green backpack the army had issued Elvis. I found some important pieces of mail. One was from the prosecutor, officially informing me that he would retry me. But I knew now that wasn't going to happen. I hoped that not being available for trial wouldn't come back to bite me someday. Another was from my aunt. She talked about how bad she felt for me and how she knew I couldn't have done that rape. I wish I were sure of that. She told me how my sister was doing. She thanked me for the checks I sent. And finally, she told me that her breast cancer had come back. She would be discussing treatment with the doctor next week. That upset me more than my punishments had. The woman who had been my mother in all but name was gravely ill. I put the letter down and cried. I guess I was more susceptible to that reaction now. The interpreter asked me what was wrong, and then sympathized with me when I told her. I asked if I could call my sister and talk to my aunt and tell her how sorry I was, she said no, that was not possible, not because of some set of rules, but because of the spell. If I tried to call her, I would not be able to dial, and if someone else called her and put me on the line, I would not be able to talk. The interpreter handed me her cell phone and said, "Go ahead and try." I took her phone and pushed the call button and tried to dial that number I knew so well, but I couldn't. My fingers would not work. The enormity of my punishment was now apparent. It was worse than prison, where I could communicate with those I loved. Now my aunt and sister could never know what was happening with me. My aunt could die, and I wouldn't be able to share any part of her last days or tell her how wonderful she was or how much I loved her. I started crying again and went on to sobs that continued for nearly half an hour. But it did no good, and I eventually had to stop and get ready for tomorrow as best I could. I went to sleep on the interpreter's couch and was woken up at 7 AM. I tried to make myself up to look like a normal young girl. I succeeded if one didn't look too closely. But I felt very inexperienced applying makeup and doing my hair. When done, I had on too much makeup, and my hair was sticking out here and there. Oh well. The clothes I had purchased the day before appeared a little slutty. But I suppose that was appropriate, given the circumstances. The interpreter drove me to the airport and handed me a business card with her contact information. She said, "Goodbye, and good luck. We will be checking on you." I didn't know what they would be checking for. I was going to be a prostitute and service abusive men. Could I sink any lower? 6. To Las Vegas I boarded a plane full of tourists on their way to Las Vegas at 10:30 AM and sat in a middle seat, which turned out to be between two young men who both tried to talk to me. They were nice enough, but I was too worried about my future and my aunt and my sister to enjoy any conversation. After a while, I realized that they were both hitting on me. One of them told me about himself, all good, and finally asked me if I was going to Las Vegas to be a showgirl. If only. I didn't have a clue how to handle this interaction, and finally I plugged my earbuds into the seatback and lay back and pretended to sleep. The stewardess woke me and told me to put up my seatback and tray. One of the two guys had been good enough to put down my tray so that the stewardess could leave a cookie snack. I was grateful because I was starving. I hadn't had anything to eat for a day or two before my abduction from the streets. Even before that, I had not eaten much because I did not know how to obtain food as a homeless person. I put the cookie in my backpack, sat up, and asked the guy in the aisle seat to move so I could go to the bathroom. But the stewardess stopped me, saying it was too late. I sat there squirming, not knowing which muscles to tighten to keep from peeing my pants. By the time we landed and deplaned, my underwear was wet, and my skirt and the seat were damp. But I had managed to retain most of it. I found a women's room immediately after deplaning and sat down and peed strongly, getting urine all over my bottom. Then I wiped myself and my clothes as best I could. I sat down for a moment, and pulled out my phone, and looked up 'bus from airport to AAA Escorts,' which was the company for which I would work. There was a city bus from the airport to the strip, stopping only a few tenths of a mile from the offices of AAA Escorts. The bus would travel only a few miles, and I gave some thought to walking. I had saved $5 from the money I had borrowed from the Interpreter, and it would be nice to preserve as much as I could. But I stepped out the door and found it was surprisingly hot for February; I would guess 90. I couldn't convince myself to walk three miles in that heat in a skirt and shoes that were foreign to me. So, I found the bus stop and waited. Even that was a trial. But the hot dry air did have an upside. My underwear and skirt dried quickly. While I was waiting for the bus, I took the cookie out of my backpack and ate it slowly. I didn't know when I would eat again. The bus arrived in 20 minutes. I asked the driver if he went by the Sunny Sky's resort, which was near AAA Escorts. He said he went within five blocks. That was good enough. By the time we got to my stop, I felt almost human. But the 5- block walk turned into almost a mile, as I made a wrong turn. When I arrived, I was hot and uncomfortable again. I found the office of AAA Escorts and walked in the door. Two middle-aged women were talking. They were not willing to interrupt their conversation to see what I needed. After about 10 minutes, I walked up to them and spoke to the one who seemed in charge. I said, "I'm Helen Watson." She said, "I've got something else to I need to do. I will get back to you when I'm done. Take a seat." So, I sat while she and the other women talked. It didn't sound like an important conversation to me, more like a chat between friends. But I didn't have any option except to wait. Finally, the other woman left, and the office manager said, "Listen, you cheeky little whore, don't ever interrupt me when I am talking to a friend. Understand?" I choked and nodded. She said, "My husband, Mr. Mason, told me we would be having a new girl come in." Then she looked at me closely and said. "Are you sure you're 19?" I said, "Yes, Maam." I handed her my ID, and she looked at it and handed it back. She said, "Mr. Mason said you would do special jobs. You like to be beat up apparently. You get paid $400 for a regular fuck, and $650 for a special in which the john is free to rough you up, a little. But you need to pay $100 for protection when you are doing a special. So, the net is $550. OK?" I nodded. She continued, "So, here is how things work. You have a phone." I nodded. She said, "We advertise in various ways, on the web, on buses, on signs in casinos. Men can contact us in two ways. They can call us and tell us what they are looking for and we select the girl and tell them what it will cost. If we agree, we call you on the phone. Or a man can look us up on the web. Then they can see girls' pictures and read their bios and select who they want specifically. After that, they call us to discuss terms, and we call you. That is for your protection. We know the guy's name and go through a limited background check before we contact you. I evaluate every call. I have been in this business for a long time and can spot troubled Johns. If I see a guy is a problem, we don't send you out. When we call, we give you a resort and a room and a time and what the guy wants. Then you dress appropriately, show up, and do what he wants. He pays you, and you come back here and give the money to us. If the guy refuses to pay, we send someone a little more persuasive than you out to collect. Most girls get a date every night, some more. You might refuse an assignment if there are lots of girls we can call, but If we need you, you go out unless you have requested a day off in advance. A special means the guy is allowed to rough you up a little, in exchange for some extra money. In no case is he allowed to hurt you or injure you to the point where you can't work the next day. We give you a panic button that you can press if things get too intense. Best hide it in your hair. If we detect a panic button going off, which we usually do if you are in a recognized casino, we send a guy out to see what is going on, usually within 10 minutes. You pay the guy who is standing by $100. Most of the girls express their appreciation in other ways. The panic button will cost you $200. We will give it to you tomorrow." Then she said, "I have an invoice for the plane ride. You owe us $253. We will take it out of your first paycheck. I understand you need clothes. We have a standard package that costs $1200. Or an economy package that costs $700. Which do you want?" I said, "I'll take the economy." She looked at me with surprise. Then she looked again, and said, "No, I think you need at least one kimono and some other Teen costumes, as well as the ordinary escort clothes. We will give you the $1200 package. Now, we need to take your measurements. Take off your blouse and bra." This was a strange experience. I stood there in the air conditioning and got goosebumps while I was waiting for Joyce to start. She measured my chest below my breasts and then measured at my breasts. Then she measured my waist and hips and length from shoulder to hands and shoulder to waist and waist to feet, writing them down as she went. She said "You're a '26 A' bra size. We might want you to get breast enlargement surgery sometime." When she finished measuring, she took a couple of photos. She said these were for use selecting clothing, not for posting on the web. They would have clothes by tomorrow and would deduct the cost from my pay. Then she said, "And I assume you will need a place to stay." I nodded. She said, "OK, Celia needs a roommate. Good Luck. It will cost you $500 a week. We'll take it out of your pay. Now we must fill out some paperwork for the State of Nevada. After that, I will show you your room. I will ask Celia to help you get ready for your first fuck. Oh," she said, looking at me, "we need to get you to see a stylist. Most men don't like that teenybopper look you have now." While Helen was filling out the state forms, Mrs. Mason called and made appointments with a doctor and a psychologist and with a hairstylist. She explained, "The Doctor's exam is required bimonthly by the state, the psychologist's exam is only required once when you get your license. We will also deduct the cost of these from your pay." 'Great,' I thought. 'I will have to work more than full time for a while, just clear these debts. And even after that, I will have to work several days a week. The interpreter's idea that I would be free six days a week was wildly optimistic.' After I did what I could on the form, Mrs. Mason went over it to fill in the empty boxes. Then she told me, "Your medical and psych exams are at 4:15 and 4:45 at the Sunny Sky's Clinic, a few blocks from here. Here is the address. Be there by 4." I looked at my phone. It was 2:30. That seemed too early. Then I remembered the change in time zone. I had to be at the clinic ? hours from now. Mrs. Duncan brought me out the door and down the street to an old motel, went up the stairs, and stopped at room 117. Mrs. Mason knocked, but there was no answer. So, she pulled out a key and opened the door, reached in, and flipped on both switches. It was a good-sized but old motel room, with two double beds, two dressers with mirrors, a table, a kitchenette, a counter, and a bathroom. There were junk and clothing everywhere. An air conditioner in one of the two windows was going full blast. The curtains of the windows were drawn, so it was dark in the room, even with the lights on. The room smelled of dirty clothing and old food. Someone was snoring in the bed nearest the bathroom. Mrs. Duncan said, "Hey, Celia, you got a roommate." The person in the bed opened her eyes, and said, "Huh. Oh, Shit." She looked hungover. Mrs. Duncan said, "Celia, this is Helen. You spend some time showing her the ropes, and we will knock a couple hundred off your rent. OK?" Celia said, "OK, OK, I got to pee, now." Then she got out of bed naked and walked to the bathroom. I noticed that she was tall, pretty, and blonde, with breasts that looked unnaturally big. She looked to be about 30-35, so older than Elvis had been. Elvis would certainly have been aroused by this naked woman walking around, but I felt no arousal at all. That surprised me. While Celia was gone, Mrs. Mason handed me the key to the room and said, "Don't forget the medical and psych appointments." Before she could leave, I said, "Mrs. Mason, can I get an advance. I have no money and haven't eaten much for the last few days." She said, "Well, hell. You should have asked in the office. I can't do anything now. Come in tomorrow morning." Then she left. When Celia got back, she put on a dirty nightdress and said, "Hi Helen. I'm Celia. God, you look like a fucking teenybopper. How the hell did you wind up here?" I replied, "It's a long, unbelievable story. I don't want to talk about it." Celia laughed and said, "OK, Sweetie. That sounds like a Texas drawl. How the hell did a chink wind up with a Texas drawl?" That annoyed me, and I said, "I'm not a 'Chink,' I'm an American with a Japanese mother and a Caucasian father. I've known several courageous Chinese American soldiers and resent you referring to them as 'Chinks.'" Celia laughed and said, "My, isn't the little whore sensitive. You better get over that fast, Sweetie." That comment gave Helen pause for thought. Celia was right. I was, or soon would be, a little whore. Furthermore, I had been a rapist, which I hated much more. I was tempted just to shut up, but decided that even though I didn't much like myself, I couldn't let Celia get away with this. But if I did, I would be Celia's slave forever, and would never be able to hold my head up even in the society of whores. I said, "Look, Celia, one of my hot button issues is my Asian ancestry. I am proud of my Japanese ancestry, as I am proud of my European ancestry. I may need to swallow my pride in some circumstances. But not here, in my room. Here, I insist on being respected, and in return, I will give you my respect. Otherwise, we will be at each other's throats, which is bad for both of us." Then Celia tried to grab my hair while she said, "Why you stupid little whore, I'll ..." I had had combat training in the military and knew how to react. I quickly grabbed her wrists, swung her arm around, and pushed it up her back. Then I grabbed her fourth and fifth fingers and pulled them down away from the other three, so as to cause intense pain. Next, I pushed Celia's chest onto a bed with my elbow. Celia cried out in pain and tried to struggle more, but I increased the pressure on her arm and fingers. Celia was a big girl and might prevail in fights with other women because of her strength and size. So, she seemed surprised at this turn of events. I hoped she realized now that I was not a patsy, however I might look. When she stopped struggling, I let up a little. My quick victory built my confidence somewhat. Although I had lost most of my strength when the witches transformed me, I now knew I still had my quickness. And I still had the reactions Elvis had developed in Army combat training and refined in workouts designed to maintain proficiency. I said, "What now, Celia? I don't want to hurt you. I still want us to develop mutual respect and even be friends. I will back off if you do. What do you say?" Celia grimaced and said, "OK, OK, I give up. Let me go." I let her go but stayed alert in case Celia wanted to fight some more. But Celia had been beaten, and she knew it. She pouted for a while, but she seemed ready for a more positive relationship. After a moment, I said, "Look, Celia, there are now two of us living here now. You need to clear your stuff off my bed. I will need a place to sleep. And we need to clean up the kitchen and bathroom. It's unsanitary. And one of the dressers needs to be cleared for my clothes. I will help when I come back. But right now, I need to go to some sort of medical and psych exam." Then I went to the toilet, washed my hands and face well, took out the makeup I had put on yesterday, and tried to brighten up my appearance with some blush and lipstick. Without thinking about it, I did a fairly good job. How had that happened? Then I remembered the spell about always appearing as a woman. That must give me some knowledge of how to appear as a woman. After cleaning up, I set off to the doctor's office. I took my backpack, being a little afraid that Celia would try to get retribution by messing with my things. I hoped Celia and I could reach a mutually acceptable modus operandi, or I would need to find somewhere else to live. I went into the Doctor's office and gave my name. The nurse said, "Oh Yes, Helen Watson. Prostitute's exam." There was at least one other woman in the waiting room who heard that. I looked at the nurse, who seemed to be laughing. She knew what she had done. 'What a bitch,' I thought. But there was nothing to be done about it. The nurse brought me back to the exam room and told me to take off my clothes and don a robe. I felt very awkward in my female body and draped the robe to cover as much as possible and huddled in a chair until the nurse returned. The nurse told me to get on a couch with stirrups on the sides. I had heard about these, but of course, I had never experienced this procedure. I laid there with my feet in the stirrups and legs apart. The robe slid down my thighs, and I felt like exposed to the world. The air conditioning must be on high because I was freezing. After several minutes the Doctor appeared. He said, "Hello, Miss Watson." Then he proceeded with the exam. After a minute, he said, "Oh, that's surprising." The nurse said, "What?", and the doctor said, "She's a virgin." Then he said to Helen, "How can a prostitute be a virgin?" I couldn't tell the truth, so I thought quickly and said, "It may look like it, but I'm not a virgin. The man who took my virginity was small, I guess." The Doctor laughed and said, "Well, it looks like you will bleed the next time you have sex. I think that makes you a virgin." I replied, "Whatever, let's get this over with." So, he continued with the exam. Helen wondered to herself, 'Did the spell that cured all the injuries from when I was raped before, also make me a virgin again. God, that means that the next time I have sex, it will hurt like hell. Damn. As the exam proceeded, it seemed like the Doctor was taking an unnecessary time, and touching me, almost caressing me, in places he didn't need to, like the sides of my thighs, my ass, my clitoris. But I didn't know because she had never had this exam before. Was the doctor only being thorough, or was he throwing in some extra feels for his own sake? Geez, I had so much to learn, and I suspected that I wouldn't like a lot of it. The doctor finally finished his examination, except for taking some tissue samples. Later the nurse took a blood sample. She said they would fax the results of the exam to AAA. But generally, everything looked all right. Then the Doctor asked the nurse to retrieve some paperwork. While she was gone, he moved in very close to my bared pelvis and put his finger in my pussy and indicated he might be willing to waive his fee. I was surprised and didn't know what to do. I asked what his fee was. He said $200. I thought about it, but I just wasn't psychologically ready, and said: "No, I don't think so tonight." After I left the Doctor's office, I had to rush upstairs for the psych exam and was a couple of minutes late. The psychiatrist was a woman and was friendly and easy to talk to. She started by saying, "Helen, my role is to assess whether you know what you are getting into and whether you are doing this of your own free will." Then she grilled me about expectations. I'm sure I sounded incredibly na?ve until I told her I enjoyed rough sex, and this was the safest way I could think of to have it. She said, "The medical report says you are a virgin. Is that true?" I replied, "No, it isn't. I have had sex with a small man, and apparently, he could sneak past my hymen." She said, "Really?" I replied, "Really. But that is not the point. I have come when men have mistreated me, hit me, forced me to do things no sane woman would do, called me names as they forced me to suck them off, or otherwise mistreated me. It's crazy I know, but true." The psychiatrist shook her head and told me that it was hard to believe, but she had heard of stranger things. But she said, "OK, Helen, you have indicated a reasonable understanding of what being a prostitute is all about, so I have to check that box." Then the Doctor went through an interview process designed to determine whether I was signing up voluntarily. She finally said that she saw no indication that anyone was forcing me to do this. What if I had told her that a coven of crazy witches had cast spells on me forcing me to do this. Would she have given me a down check for that? Or would she have given me a down check for being crazy? Don't know. But I didn't see any way around the spells. So, I felt I had to proceed. Besides, I knew I was a scum-bag rapist. I deserved this punishment, which was another reason to proceed. The psychiatrist made one more attempt to dissuade me. She told me, "You are a beautiful young girl, and you seem to be intelligent, and likable, and level-headed. You have a bright future somewhere if you don't throw it away. And becoming a prostitute would be throwing it away." I appreciated what she was trying to do; I really did. But I truly did not feel I had a choice. I got back to the room at 5:30. Celia was lying in her bed. She seemed almost comatose. I shouted, "Celia, Celia. What's happening, girl?" She laid there looking at me, not focusing. At that point, I realized she was high as a kite. She had not cleaned anything, so I told her, "Look, I don't care if you're on drugs. But you must get it together enough to do some cleaning. I can't live like this. If I have to clean these things off, I will toss them on your bed. You will have to deal with them anyway. And if worse comes to worse I will find your drugs and hide them until you do the cleaning. Then what?" She said nothing. She seemed too high to respond. I still had that stylist appointment at six and decided to keep that appointment and hope Celia was coherent when I got back. I guess hope cab be a strategy sometimes. I spent an hour at the stylist. The style she gave me was designed to make me look more sophisticated and adult. Then she spent an hour showing me how to care for it. She looked at my eyebrows and said she had to do something about them. She decided to use wax, and it hurt like hell. But afterward, I looked in the mirror, and my eyebrows looked nicely feminine. She spent another half hour showing me how to apply makeup to match the eyebrows and hair. Then she noticed that I had hair on my legs, lots of it for a girl. So, she gave me a depilatory and instructions on how to use it. When done, she said, "My land girl, I don't understand how you could reach 19 and know as little as you do about hair and makeup. Well, at least you don't have any of those ugly tattoos or piercings to deal with." Then she said, "How about body hair. Is it as heavy as your leg hair?" I looked at her blankly. So, she had me pull my blouse out and show her my stomach. She gasped and said, "That hair has to go, as soon as possible." I said, "OK, how." She said, "How about a complete wax job. It only hurts a little." I didn't believe her, having just had my eyebrows done. But maybe the spell to appear as a girl made me follow her suggestion, and I said, "OK." She had me take my clothes off, and heated some hot wax, and did my stomach and legs, and it did hurt like hell. Then she sent me into a bathroom with a shower and said to shave my underarms and arms. Afterward, I had to admit I looked older and better groomed. But this older look would take almost an hour and a half to get on, at least at first. That was a pain in the ass. The spell would make me do it. But I was not convinced it was necessary. After all, I thought that what a john would want was between my legs. No one was going to fall in love with a whore, so my hair and makeup and underarms shouldn't matter that much. That turned out to be wrong. I went back to the motel. I was surprised to see Celia getting ready to go out. And she was surprised at how much older I looked. She said, "Hey, girl. Looking good." And then she went on with her preparations. I decided just to sit and see what was going on. I asked her, "What are you doing? You have a date tonight?" She said, "No, they didn't call me today. I need money, so I'm going to go out and cruise the casino floor and look for a date myself." I asked, "Does this happen often?" She looked at me and said, with a note of tension in her voice, "Don't worry, it won't happen to you. A young, pretty little pussy like you will have more work than she can handle. But enjoy it while you can. It won't last forever." She was almost crying by this time. I didn't know what to say. She continued in a dead voice. "I'm 30. I'm looking dated. Not old but dated. The best picture I can take for the website looks motherly. There're a few guys who like that sort of stuff and will pay the escort price. But not many. And these damn tits they talked me into getting a few years ago just make me look older and fatter. And they hurt like hell most of the time." She looked so bleak. I said, "I'm sorry, Celia. Maybe it's time to do something else. I've seen some signs for job openings." She said, "I don't know how to do anything else. And to cap it off, I have a $150/week pill habit. Most working girls do. How would we do what we do if we're sober? I'm just a middle-aged whore, and will soon be an old whore, working the streets for $20 a fuck." At that, she did cry. Without thinking, I went over to her and put my arm around her shoulders. I was surprised when she leaned into me and started sobbing. I tried to give her some comfort. I thought about whether there was any way to help her and didn't see any right now. So, comfort was all I could give. Then Celia got up and said she needed to get herself together. I heard her grumbling about having to redo her makeup. When she finished, she looked pretty again. She was wearing a black dress that was very short and tight with 4" heals. Her hair was done up to be big, sort of like I remembered on country singers. And her makeup was well done. But she looked thirty. If she had been a married woman going out with her husband dancing, she might have been the prettiest woman there. But I could see that she wasn't particularly attractive to young johns. I told her she looked great. She smiled and said, 'Thanks, Helen." Then she said, "Look, Helen, I know you wanted to clean up a little. And I agree. But I was high and couldn't do anything except make my bed. I promise I will work on it tomorrow. Tonight, I might be bringing someone over." I raised my eyebrow, and she said, "If I get a date with someone who isn't staying at the casino, we have to go somewhere to fuck. So, cleaning up your bed, please don't just dump the stuff on my bed. Just put it in the kitchen or something. Please." I answered, "OK, Celia. Good Luck." She smiled at me again and left. Looking at her walk in heels, I wondered how the hell she would get the two blocks to the Casino. I spent a couple of hours cleaning. There were dirty dishes that had been around a while. Celia didn't have any dish soap, so I had to use some bar soap to wash them. I put all the fast-food packages in the garbage. Then I looked in the refrigerator, and all it had was milk that turned out to be bad, so I threw it away. Then, I cleaned off my bed and put Celia's extra stuff neatly behind the table. Maybe we should think about switching beds. If she were going to bring dates over, I would like them not to have to walk around me while I was in bed. But then I thought, 'Squelch that thought. I can't be here if Celia has a trail of guys coming in all the time.' Without thinking, I took the garbage bags with all the refuse I had collected out to the dumpster. Some guy about 20 started a conversation and then tried to proposition me. He was very insistent and very threatening. But I hinted that I was taking antibiotics for a VD, and that dissuaded him. When I got back to my room and locked the door, I was shaking with fear. I needed to be much more careful than when I was a guy. Now that I had some leisure time, I felt hungry. I had only eaten that airplane cookie today, almost nothing the previous two days, and not much the two days before that. I knew the routine of having a roommate and would ordinarily not have messed with Celia's food at all. But I was starting to go hypoglycemic. I looked for some cereal to snack on or some energy bars. Celia had nothing. It looked like she bought meals whenever she ate. Well, I had $2.25 left after my bus ride. If there was a fast- food mart nearby, I could at least get something. But my experience going to the dumpster made me cautious. I decided just to tough it out. Tomorrow I would ask for an advance and get something to eat. I brushed my teeth, cleaned off my makeup, took off the outfit I had bought in the thrift store, put on a men's t-shirt that sort of fit, and went to bed. My brain was racing, thinking about what had happened today and what would happen tomorrow. It took me over an hour to fall to sleep. At 11:30, Celia and some guy came in the door. She turned on a lamp by her bed, which woke me. Then she and the guy took off their clothes and crawled into bed. I could hear them fucking. Celia was telling the guy he was a great lover and was making her so happy, and then she started moaning and finally screamed and said, "That was so good. God, what a lover you are." The guy seemed happy. After that, I heard him start pounding again. Finally, a series of grunts told me that he had cum. A short while later, he got up, went to the bathroom, put his clothes back on, pulled some cash out of his wallet, and handed it to Celia and left. Celia got up and went into the bathroom and stayed about 15 minutes, and then dressed again and grabbed her purse and left. It took almost an hour for me to get back to sleep. Celia returned at 2:30 with another guy and repeated the same process, except this time, he didn't give her any money. This time Celia got up, cleaned herself up, and ran a glass of water and took some sort of pill, and went to sleep. Again, I had a hard time getting back to sleep. I thought of myself in this life as I grew older. I knew the spell would make me find men who would give me abusive sex. What would that be like? What would I feel like while I was doing it? And afterward? Would I wind up turning to drugs to deal with what I was becoming? I vowed that I wouldn't. I vowed to find a way to have a meaningful life that would see me through the hard times ahead. Finally, I drifted back to sleep at 4 AM. 7. First Trick I woke at about 8:30 the next morning. I was starving. I got up, took a shower using a shower cap so I wouldn't have to do my hair from scratch, brushed out my hair, put on some makeup as the stylist yesterday had shown me, and put on my clothing from yesterday. I had rinsed it out last night to get rid of the pee from the plane ride, and it had dried overnight in the Las Vegas air. Then I went over to the AAA Escort service's office. I hoped to get an advance in pay so I could get some breakfast. And even though it was February, it was going to be a hot day. It was already hot, and I was sweating by the time I walked the two blocks. I needed to get some lighter clothing, blouse, and shorts, I guess. I walked into the office, and Mrs. Mason said, "You're here, good. Mr. Mason wants to see you. Right away." She was pointing to a private office. I knocked gently and heard a deep voice say, "Come in." When he saw me, he smiled and said, "You must be Helen. You're a pretty little thing. What have you done to your hair?" I said, "Mrs. Mason scheduled me an appointment for a hairdo yesterday that makes me look older, I guess." He frowned and said, "We need to change it back." I objected, "Mr. Mason, I was charged $200 for this hairstyle. I don't want to pay for another." He said, "Of course, of course. We won't charge you." Then he called to Mrs. Mason and said, "Diane, schedule Helen for another hairstyling." Then I said, "But if I need to change it back to this later, I'll need another hair appointment. Will you be charging me for that?" He looked at me in surprise and said, "Um, no. When we put it back, we won't charge you for that either." I said, "OK, OK, why are we doing this." He looked at me excitedly, "You're a virgin, Helen." I looked back, blankly. He said, "You're a virgin, but you're a legal prostitute. That means in Nevada; we can auction off your virginity. It should bring big money. So, what we will do is get pictures of you in various young girls' attire, looking sweet and innocent, but sexy. Then we'll post them on the web with announcements of the auction. On Friday evening, the high bidder gets you. I make a few thousand dollars. You make a few thousand, all for only one or two fucks. We?re all happy.? Somehow, I didn?t think it would be that simple. And I doubted I would be that happy. But I supposed it could be profitable. And after all, this was the expected result of the witches? spells. ?OK,? I said. ?What do I need to do?? Mr. Mason said, ?For now, get your hair changed and show up for a photoshoot this afternoon. Then we will prep you for any follow-on stuff, including the Friday event.? I said, ?OK, but I was going to ask for a little advance. I haven?t had hardly anything to eat for 4 -5 days, and I?m starving. And I only have two casual outfits to wear when I am not working. I want to buy at least one more.? He said, ?How much of an advance would you like?? I replied, ?I was going to ask for $100, but now it sounds like I won?t be paid anything until next week. Could I have $250? At least $200.? Then he said, ?No problem.? And called to Mrs. Mason, ?Joyce, can you get together a draw for Helen for $250? OK, Helen, I?ll see you at the photoshoot this afternoon.? I went out into the office area, and Joyce was getting ready to leave. She gave me a dirty look and said, ?I have to go to the bank. I?ll be back in ? hour.? I sat down to wait. And I waited and waited. She got back at 11. By that time, I was starving. Joyce gave me the $250, made me sign for it, and said, ?I did some other errands as long as I was out. Your hair appointment is at 11:30. Better get over there.? Damn, no time for breakfast now. So, I went back to the hairstylist, and she was a little behind, and I had to wait for a half-hour. When she was free, she put my hair in curlers, and then took them out and brushed the curls out, so my hair was wavy. I looked like a Japanese Little Bo Peep. This style wouldn?t have been my choice, but I was just along for the ride. The stylist also worked on my makeup, this time to appear ?young and innocent.? It was now 12:45, just time enough to get back to the office. Still no time for lunch. Back at the office, Joyce gave me a Little Bo Peep outfit. I laughed and put it on. The photographer placed me in front of a large picture of daisies and took a lot of pictures. Joyce posed me in several ways, from innocent to having my pants down and my top and bra up and showing my boobs. I noticed Mr. Mason was watching me closely, and Joyce was watching him and scowling. Then they did a closeup of my hymen while I was lying on my back with my legs out. Yech. Next, they put me in a cheerleader outfit and repeated all but the hymen shot. Finally, they repeated the pictures in a girl scout uniform. Joyce told me they would charge me $200 for the photoshoot and take it out of my pay. We would do some more shots when my hair was back to the more mature style. Finally, I was free to go. After I changed back into my casual clothes, I asked Joyce about the clothing package. She told me I had been wearing some of them. Since I looked so young, they had included some youngish clothing in the package. She said she would put the rest together, and I could pick it up later, along with an emergency alert transmitter. I would not be going out on any dates before Friday, so I didn?t need everything right now. I had intended to take the $250 that Joyce had given me and eat. But what I had just done sickened me and I couldn?t. It was a photoshoot of me enticing men into viewing child porn, maybe not technically child porn since I was 19. But it was as close to child porn as it could be without actually being child porn. God, how low was I going to sink? I went from being a proud veteran to being a rapist to being a prostitute to participating in near-child-porn. This punishment was supposed to make me a better person. It wasn?t working. I went back to the room. Celia was still sleeping. I laid down and started crying. What was I going to do? Then Celia woke up and told me to shut the fuck up. That made me realize I was not doing anybody any good. I couldn?t even think straight without some food. So, I got up again. As I was preparing to go, Celia said, ?You going to eat.? I said, ?Yes.? She said, ?Mind if I join you?? I was not that thrilled about being around Celia. I was angry at her for her comment and angry at the world in general. But I didn?t want to fight with anyone, and I didn?t want to be alone either. Besides, I didn?t know where any good restaurants were. So, I said, ?No, I don?t mind. Let?s get a move on, though. I?m starving.? She jumped up, grabbed a blouse and shorts, ran into the bathroom, and came out in 5 minutes with makeup and shorts on. I was amazed. I didn?t think she could move that fast. We were two blocks from the corporate office, which was two blocks off the strip. Celia directed me two more blocks away from the strip to a little shopping center with a Thai Restaurant in it. I ordered a light beer and some Pad Thai with tofu. Even after I had shown them my Texas Id, they were reluctant to serve me the beer, but finally relented. I was surprised. I mean, I had my ID. I didn?t realize at that time how easy it was to get a fake ID. The Pad Thai was average, but I was so hungry that eating it was heavenly, and the beer was even better. And they only cost about $13. Celia had some spinach with chicken and peanut sauce that I would try next time. I had almost ordered two dinners just for myself. But I was glad I didn?t because I finished the beer and got halfway through the Pad Thai and had to stop. I was full. I guess I didn?t have the capacity for a lot of food as a skinny girl. But I felt much better after finally eating. Celia looked across the table and asked if I wanted my soy sauce pack. I handed it to her. She laughed and said, ?I didn?t want to reach across the table for fear you might bite me.? I said, ?I?m sorry. I was hungrier than I?ve been in a long time. I had exactly one airline cookie yesterday and nothing at all the previous two days.? Celia laughed and asked, ?Where?s home?? I said, ?Tempah, Texas. So, I come by the drawl honestly.? She asked, ?Where?s Tempah??. I said ?About an hour north of Dallas. But I was flying in from North West Texas State College.? Celia asked, ?Were you a student?? I nodded, and she asked, ?What happened to make you leave?? I literally could not answer that question, even with a lie. The spells made it so my mouth wouldn?t work. So, I just shrugged my shoulders. I regained my ability to speak once I thought of a comment that revealed nothing. I said, ?I guess college isn?t for everyone.? But I had some questions for her. I told her about what had happened this morning. I said that I was feeling very queasy about dressing like a little girl and doing porn. Was it legal? Did she think it was moral? She said, ?It?s technically not legal to do porn if you look like you?re under 18, even if you?re older. But it?s a grey area because whether you look under 18 is subjective. Nevertheless, I think a zealot in the prosecutor?s office could convict you and Mr. Mason of child porn. But the financial backers of AAA won?t let that happen. As to whether it is moral, I don?t think you doing what you did will put a child in danger. So, it is not immoral in that sense. Is it moral in the sense of being a good thing to do, probably not? But neither of us can worry about that.? Then I asked who these financial backers were, and she just laughed and said, ?It?s not hard to figure out.? But apparently, Celia didn?t want to tell me. Then I said, ?I got my medical exam yesterday. It seemed like the doctor was all over me, with his fingers in places they shouldn?t be to do with the exam. Then he propositioned me. Did you have that experience?? She said, ?Yes. Did you let him?? I answered, ?No! I guess it seemed kind of creepy.? Celia said, ?Well, he is clean and safe and knows what he is doing, so it is not unpleasant. And he?s a pretty good guy, so it feels OK. And, it?s an easy $200.? I guess I looked shocked. Celia said, ?What? I?m a whore. It?s what I do. You?re a whore too. Next time take the easy $200.? As long as she was on the subject, I asked Celia how last night had gone. Celia said, ?I had two tricks. I turned one in the john?s room in the casino, and one in our room.? Helen asked, ?But you had two guys in the room.? Celia, ?Yeah. The last guy was a casino security officer. That?s the cost of working in the casino.? I said, ?Oh. I noticed you seemed to be enjoying the sex.? Celia said, ?That?s just part of the act. All of us have to do an act for the john. He might want us to be happy, or afraid, or horny and to cum, or whatever. You must figure it out by listening closely and trying various approaches. When you figure out what he likes, you need to be able to give it to him. Both guys last night wanted me to be turned on and have an orgasm because they were such studs. That?s what I gave them. But I didn?t really orgasm. I rarely do. Just occasionally, when some guy pushes my buttons just right. I guess you and I should talk about that more, so you know what to do when you start.? I asked, ?Is the act that important? I mean, the guy gets off, isn?t he happy with just that? Celia said, ?First of all, some guys can?t get off unless you give them what they want. Second, if you give him what he wants, it?s safer. Most men won?t get mad at someone who gives them what they want. Third, these guys are paying a lot of money. They want more than just to get their itch scratched. If you give them what they want, they might become a regular. And regulars are the best johns there are. They tip well, and they are safer, both because you establish a bond and because you know a lot about them. So, yes, the act is important.? Then the waiter seated a couple of guys at an adjacent table. I didn?t particularly want to talk about giving sex when someone was nearby. I asked, ?Celia, is there a grocery store nearby. I?d like to pick up something to have around for breakfast and lunch?? Celia, ?Sure, there?s a Smith?s a couple of blocks away.? So, we paid our bills and walked to Smith?s. I got some cereal and fruit and milk and eggs and bacon, and some bread and lunchmeat, and a couple of pens and some paper. I also grabbed some light beer to have around. Then I found a Scientific American I had not read and put it in the cart. Celia got herself some cereal too and asked if she could use some of my milk occasionally.? I agreed to that. I saw a thrift store nearby and asked Celia if we could stop there, but Celia had to get back because she had a date arranged by AAA tonight. So, Celia carried the bags back to the room and got ready. I walked to the thrift store and found a couple of pairs of shorts that fit. One was a little snug and one a little loose, but both were wearable. I also found a top that looked OK with each, as near as I could tell. I was still not great at matching colors and styles. I also found a pair of sneakers that fit me well and some light socks. Best of all, I found some comfortable and pretty bras my size and a three-pack of pretty panties. I couldn?t quite explain why it was important to me that my underwear be pretty. Part of the spells? I paid cash and headed back to the room carrying my purchases. As I was walking back to the room, I got a phone call. It was Mr. Mason. He said, ?Helen, we have the announcement and some of the pictures up, and we have some interest already. I will be forwarding a couple of emails with questions about you. Please send me the answers. And we have a request for more pictures. I?d like you to come in tomorrow morning for another photoshoot, OK?? I said, ?OK, Mr. Mason. I will try to answer the questions tonight.? Mr. Mason replied, ?Can you do them right away? I would like to have them on the website tonight.? I wasn?t very happy to have to drop what I was doing and do someone else?s bidding. But I guess I was getting paid for it. And I didn?t want a bad start, so I swallowed my irritation and just said, ?OK. I?ll do them as soon as I get back to the room.? Mr. Mason asked, ?Where are you? Why are you out?? I replied, ?I went out to get something to eat, OK? Jeez.? He said, ?Now is the time most girls are getting their dates for the evening. It?s a bad time to be out.? I said, ?I can?t take an assignment. I have to be a virgin for this little thing we are doing, right?? Mr. Mason said, ?You could do something that didn?t involve vaginal sex if that came in. You?re supposed to be ready if we get a call.? I replied with sarcasm, ?Does that ever happen? I mean, do you ever get a call for a babysitter for $1000 a night?? Mr. Mason, ?A few months ago, we had a call for oral sex only, from some guy who was hyper concerned about disease. You could do that.? I replied, ?OK, but I am available. I?m only 5 minutes away from my room now. I could be anywhere on the strip within the hour. I had to get out and get some dinner. I hadn?t eaten much for over four days, Mr. Mason. And I didn?t have any of my clothes with me when I left North West Texas State, so I was running out of clothes. I couldn?t just sit here doing nothing on the off chance that you needed someone for oral sex.? Mr. Mason, ?OK, OK, I understand. Just get the answers to the questions in.? I said, ?OK, Bye Mr. Mason.? When I got back to the room, I put my groceries and new clothes away and sat at the table. I moved Celia?s stuff aside and looked at my phone. The email from Mr. Mason had links to the auction website and some further questions from prospective bidders. I followed the links. The pictures made me queasy. There was a very young-looking teenage girl modeling innocently in young girls? clothing, and then the girl was pulling the clothing aside to show her body with a broad smile. It identified the girl as a Eurasian girl named, ?Blossom,? who was a virgin but a legal prostitute, and they were auctioning my virginity to the highest bidder between now and Friday. Then I looked at the emailed questions men had sent in. Most of them played to some sexual fantasy of the originator. What sports did I like? What did I like to do? What did I want to be? I answered these as a female Elvis. Some of the questions were sort of stupid. Like, ?What?s my favorite position?? I?m a virgin, you idiot; I don?t have enough experience with sex to have a favorite position. But I couldn?t answer that way. I formulated a gentle reminder that said the same thing without being insulting. Then I sent the answers back to Mr. Mason in an email. Then, I spent another hour cleaning the room, putting any of Celia?s stuff that was in the common areas in a pile in the corner. Then I watched some news for another hour. At 9:30, I plugged my phone and tablet in to charge. I brushed my teeth, took a shower, cleaned the makeup off my face, brushed my hair out, put a nightcap on my head that would keep my hair from getting tangled, and laid down. I read my Scientific American for a few minutes and turned off the light. My mind raced for a while as I was trying to get to sleep. I reflected that I probably should have bought a young girl?s magazine to try to get myself acclimated to the world of women. Maybe tomorrow. I finally managed to fall asleep. Somewhere in the night, I heard some emails come in on my phone. And I heard Celia come in and get ready for bed at about 2. I opened my eyes at seven and got up and peed and washed my face and sat down and had a bowl of cereal with fruit. Then I looked at my phone. I had a text from Mr. Mason saying that they had had several bids come in on the web site, and the top was $5000. I was amazed. Would someone really pay that much just for a young, pretty, virgin piece of ass, e.g., me? They must have more money than common sense. Mr. Mason said for me to be there for another photoshoot this morning at 9. A more important email was from my sister, Mitsuko. She had come to hate her middle name, Phoebe, and stuck with ?Mitsuko.? Her friends shortened that to ?Mitty?, and Mitsuko had adopted that as her informal name. Mitty wrote, ?Dear Elvis. I hope you are still monitoring your email. Aunt Marge and I miss you terribly and are afraid of what might happen if the police find you. Aunt Marge is very sick. She will be undergoing chemotherapy starting next week. We are taking out another loan on the house to pay for it. Aunt Marge would love to hear from you but understands the situation. And I would love to hear from you. We love you, Elvis. Take care of yourself. The prosecutor from Collegeville contacted us. He thinks you have dropped out of sight to avoid prosecution, and he vows to catch you, dead or alive. However, the prosecutor has promised not to jail you until your new trial if you turn yourself in. And he said they would consider giving you the deal they refused before, to allow you to plea to indecent liberties and serve three years, including your jail time. You would also have to register as a sex offender. But he said that is only a formality. Aunt Marge and I are struggling financially a little right now. Aunt Marge has had to take a leave of absence from work. I have increased my hours at Wilson?s, but that is only a little help. I am considering taking a full- time night job that just came open at Wilsons. I would have to give up my drama class, but right now, Aunt Marge is more important. But we will be OK. Don?t worry about us. There is nothing you can do right now. Love, Mitty? I sat and read the email again and again with tears rolling down my face. The whole email was very upsetting. But I couldn?t do a thing about it. But Mitty?s email made me wonder if the police could trace me when I read my email? How about when I used my phone? If so, would the trail of evidence the coven had constructed stand up to detailed investigation. I doubted it. If they traced me and couldn?t verify that I was Helen, would they figure out I was Elvis transformed in some way to a girl? Was there any chance they could prosecute if they did? The best thing would be never to appear on the police?s radar at all. I would have to think about how best to do that. But that also would have to wait until later too. Right now, I had to get ready and go. Then I got a phone call from Mr. Mason. He said, ?Helen, can you get in early. I need you to sign some paperwork.? I asked, ?What kind of paperwork? Mr. Mason answered, ?Oh, just permission to do what we have been doing. It?s just routine. No big thing.? My thoughts about the phone had made me cautious. I hated to rush important things, so I decided to drag my feet a little. I said, ?I can get in a few minutes early. If you had notified me last night, I could have gotten up earlier. At any rate, I need to understand anything I sign regarding this job.? Mr. Mason replied, ?Oh, Helen, this is just routine stuff. I will explain it to you.? Now I was really suspicious. I said, ?It would be good if you explained it, Mr. Mason. But I need to understand it before I commit to anything. So, it may be that I need to bring it back to the room and spend some time going over it.? I heard a grunt of impatience, and Mr. Mason said, ?OK, OK. Just get in as soon as you can.? But I wanted to take a shower and get myself clean. And I wanted to take some time to practice making myself up as the stylist had shown me yesterday. I wanted to look good as a girl. Probably partly because of that damned ?always appear as a female? spell. But also, because if I had to be a girl for 30 years, I might as well do a good job. Not that I wanted to be a girl, I didn?t. But I didn?t want constantly to worry that I was doing things incorrectly and somehow drawing attention to myself. I decided to stick to my plan to comb my hair out good and do my makeup several times until it looked good. But this took some time, so I only got to the office a few minutes before 9. When I came in, Mr. Mason told me we didn?t have time to talk about the papers. We will do it after the photoshoot. He had decided to shoot a video rather than more photos. He introduced me to a woman named Lacey, who would coordinate the video shoot. Lacey looked at me and said, ?that makeup is all wrong for the look we are trying to achieve.? She handed me some cold cream, pointed to a dressing room, and told me to take it off. I hated having to take off the makeup I had spent so much time on, but I didn?t say anything. When done, Lacy put only a little blush on my cheeks and applied a light lipstick. Then Lacey told me to put on the clothing laid out on the chair. There were pink panties and a pink top. Both were translucent. The panties had a slit in the front from the elastic band to between my legs to my ass. The slit would come together to cover my vagina but would give some sneak peeks as I moved and could be easily pulled back to allow access. It appeared that this video was going to be X-rated. There was no bra, which didn?t bother me overly much since my breasts were small and didn?t bounce around much. But the pink top seemed to be designed to draw attention to my breasts and the swell of my hips as I moved. With them on, I felt naked and very vulnerable. Lacey said they would shoot several videos and decide later what to put on the web. There were several other outfits laid out. Lacey pointed to one that looked like a catholic schoolgirl?s uniform, including a blouse, skirt, socks, and tennis shoes. She told me to put it on over the pink outfit. When I got it on the blouse was very tight and semitransparent, and the skirt was short, barely covering my ass. Then Lacey brought me out to the main room and said loudly, ?OK, camera crew and actors over here.? Three guys came over along with a very good- looking 30-year-old man. This man wore expensive-looking shorts and a silk or polyester jacket that looked like a short robe. When everyone was there, Lacey went through the scene. ?OK, people, this is a simple scene. Blossom, here, will come in the door. She is coming home from school. She will walk over to the phone, and look at it, and then she will come over to the table and see a pile of mail and will go through it. Then she will pull out her cell phone and look at it, and pretend she is answering a text. Blossom, you need to be happy and animated and sort of dance around. We need to see as much as we can of your breasts bouncing and get some shots of your panties and, if possible, a flash of your snatch. Then, Arthur,? she gestured to the older male, ?will call from off stage, ?Blossom, Is that you?? Blossom, You will get a worried look on your face and say, ?Yes, Daddy.? Then Arthur will come in and say, ?I told you to be home right after school. You?re two hours late. Where were you?? Arthur, you must be very masculine and dominant here. Blossom, you will sort of cringe, and say hesitantly, ?With my friends, Daddy.? Blossom, you must be very submissive in tone and look. No arguing, Arthur, you will say, ?You have disobeyed me, Blossom. That means I must punish you.? Blossom, you will try to move away. Arthur, you will grab her. Blossom, you struggle a little. Arthur, in the struggle, I want to see your hands go up Blossoms top to her breasts and down to her ass. And then I want her blouse and skirt to be pulled off. Then you will force Blossom over your knee and spank her. Blossom, I want to see your lower legs going up and down, but nothing else moving. And you will be crying and saying, ?No, Daddy, No. I?m sorry, Daddy, I?m sorry. That hurts, Daddy.?? Then Arthur asked, ?Do I spank her hard?? Lacy, ?Not in the practice scenes. But in the final scene, we will want to hear the slaps and see marks on her ass.? Arthur smiled and said, ?OK.? I said, ?Wait a minute. I never agreed to be hurt.? Lacey looked over at Mr. Mason, who motioned me over. He said, ?Helen, this is what I wanted to talk about this morning. Look, I will pay you an extra $1000 to do this scene. It will increase the bids significantly. And we will tell Arthur not to hit you too hard, OK?? I wanted to say, ?hell no,? to walk out and wash my hands of the entire business. But, where would that leave me, a homeless, 19-year-old girl with a compulsion for rough sex alone in Las Vegas? After some thought, I said, ?OK.? Mr. Mason looked over to the group and said, ?Lacey, make the spanking as mild as possible. She?s ready now.? I walked back to the group. Everyone there looked at me as though I was some whiney little girl and just learning about the real world, which in a sense I was. Lacey continued, ?OK, Arthur, after the spanking, you will say ?Blossom, I?m sorry, but you have to learn to obey me.? Blossom, you will reply, ?I?m sorry, Daddy. I?m so sorry. Is there any way I can make it up to you?? Arthur, you will pull her to you and feel her tits and ass and pussy. Blossom, you will gasp and start making sounds of sexual excitement. Then you will say, ?Daddy, take me. Take me. Please.? Arthur, you will put her on the ground and open her legs. The camera will move in and take a closeup of her hymen. And that?s it.? Arthur asked, ?That?s it?? Lacey said, ?Yes, you idiot. She has to be a virgin at the end of the shoot. You won?t get a chance to stick your thing into her until we shoot the continuation.? Then Lacey continued with camera placement and microphone instructions, but I didn?t listen. I was trying not to be sick to my stomach. Elvis had occasionally viewed internet porn while he was in Iraq and Iran. There were times when there was no other way to deal with male urges. The local women wouldn?t have anything to do with the GIs. Even if they had been so inclined, the Muslim men would have punished them so badly they must have feared retribution. So, the sexual tension would build up, and the temptation to view porn became almost overwhelming. But Elvis had never viewed kiddy porn or incest porn. Now, here I was, being drawn into doing such porn. If this experience was supposed to make Elvis a better man, it was a failure. But if it was nothing but retribution, I guess it was a success. I was miserably unhappy about what I was doing but didn?t see any way out. I managed to get through the shoot. It took over five tries. I had taken drama in high school, so I knew how to role-play. As a girl, I was agile, so I picked up the prancing around in the first scene, OK. But we reshot the early scenes because it just took time to get everything together and find the right camera angles. The last shoot was the spanking scene. Arthur seemed to enjoy it. It hurt like hell. But the strangest thing was that when he spanked me, I orgasmed, intensely, and screamed with pleasure. Lacey said, ?Well done, Blossom. Well done.? Damn. It had to be the spell. Apparently, violence and the suggestion of sex was enough to make me react. There didn?t need to be any actual sex. It took over 5 hours of shooting and an hour of editing to get the final result. (The hour counted as a lunch break. We were supposed to bring our lunches, except no one told me.) When finished, we all looked at the final product. Lacey was quite pleased. My only thought was, ?Yep, it?s porn, alright.? I looked very young, and the suggestion of incest was very clear, so it was certainly skirting the law. I wondered if there would be any legal problems. I thought we had finished, but they exchanged the catholic school uniform for a kimono and reshot the scene. We had to go through it several times to find ways to expose my underwear and body in a Kimono. I got spanked again and orgasmed again. Damn. Then we reshot it in a cheerleader uniform. Here the problem was the cheerleader uniform was very tight and did not cover the undergarments. So, they had me do the scene without the top and using the revealing panties as the bottom of the uniform. The result of both shoots also looked like kiddy porn and suggested incest. I didn?t get out of there until 6:30 PM. We were all tired. Mr. Mason asked me to come in at 8 the next morning to sign those papers, and he would give me my clothing package and the panic button. Once again, I said I had to read the papers carefully before signing. He gave me a dirty look. I went back to the motel. Celia was not there. It was too early to work the Casino Floor, so I assumed she had a date. I just sat there and tried to make sense of the whole thing. Then I tried to lay down and nap. My ass hurt like hell. If that was a light spanking by Arthur, I didn?t ever want to experience a heavy. And I was tired, both physically and mentally. But I couldn?t sleep. My mind just returned to how I was doing something I despised. Finally, I decided to think it through and decide what I would do about several things that concerned me. I sat up and got out my notebook to write things down as I thought. My life had been spinning out of control for the last few months. Well, Duh. I?d apparently raped a girl although I couldn?t remember it, Then I spent over three months in jail awaiting trial. Next, I went on trial and a lawyer I had not hired used tactics I did not approve of to prevent me from being convicted. Then I had wound up on the streets. And to top everything off, some witches turned me into a girl and raped me multiple times, and cast spells on me that would force me to be a girl for 30 years more and need abusive sex. Now, I?ve become a porn princess who skirts the edge of kiddy porn and incest porn and is about to embark on a career in prostitution. Finally, I had just become aware that my Aunt had a recurrence of cancer, and my sister was going to give up most of what she valued in school to work full time. And I couldn?t do a thing about it. I hadn?t chosen any of this. That?s certainly ?out of control.? So is there anything that I, Naozumi Elvis Watson, could do to have some control over what was happening. Well, first, I was determined not to do anything else that even hinted at kiddy porn or incest porn. I hated it and would not do it. I couldn?t undo what had already happened. But I wouldn?t do it anymore. And if the state prosecuted me for what had happened already, I would tell all and accept any consequences. Another thing that was troubling me was that the little video I had been in had suggested that some girls and women enjoyed violence, that it was somehow acceptable. I rejected that. My family back in Japan, and my father and aunt in Texas had raised me totally without violence, not even a spanking. I believed that violence was not necessary except for defense. So, I would not allow myself ever again to be engaged in any porn involving violence against girls or women. My experience in the army had shown me that there are too many kooks out there who might think that, because they saw violence against women in a video strip, it was somehow acceptable. It wasn?t. But what should I do if a john wanted me to pretend I was a child or a relative during sex, or if a john wanted abusive sex? Well, that was a little more problematic. If a john already had such desires, catering to them would not likely cause the desires to increase. In fact, there was an argument that a john might satisfy his need for such sex with a prostitute, and then be able to control his desires with other women. I knew I would be with abusive johns. Abusive sex was what a special assignment was all about. I had already agreed to specials. More to the point, I needed abusive sex, or that one spell would punish me. And that spell would also make me orgasm if I a john abused me while we were having sex. I had orgasmed three times today just from being spanked by that asshole actor. It was not as though I enjoyed the spanking or fondling. I hated it, despised it. I hated the pain, and I hated the humiliation of being spanked like a child and having my ass and tits touched in front of other adults. Nevertheless, I orgasmed. What should I do? I suppose I could decline to have abusive sex and accept the nervous breakdown that would ensue. But I didn?t know what the ultimate result would be. And I had an aversion to nervous breakdowns, so I wasn?t going to decline such sex. I decided I would comply with requests from johns for pretending to be a child or a relative, or for abusive sex. If I learned that such compliance would make trouble for other women or girls, I would stop and take the consequences. Now that I had thought those issues through, I needed to decide what to do about my phone and email. My phone was a problem. I was sure the police had my phone number and could ask my provider to provide information on its usage. I had heard that some phones were traceable even if they weren?t being used. So, I probably needed to turn it totally off and throw it away where nobody could find it. Hopefully, they hadn?t traced it to Las Vegas up to now. I would need to get a new phone so that AAA Escorts could contact me. Could I get one without revealing my name? I would have to research that question, but not on my phone. How about my email? Could that compromise my location? I bet it could. I had heard of something called an anonymizer. It might prevent identification. I hesitated to use my current phone to ask these questions on the internet. I needed to find a library and go online and do some research there. But then I had a related thought. I was paying for this phone directly out of Elvis?s old bank account. I must have been doing that all the time I was in jail. Damn, that was stupid. I had forgotten about Elvis?s old bank account. I wanted to preserve any money I had in the account and get it to my aunt. Was there anywhere I could go online and cancel the phone plan without revealing my location? I guessed the anonymizer would solve that problem too. And how about getting the money to my aunt? I wrote a to-do list. It had; ?Tell Mr. Mason I won?t do kiddy porn, incest porn, or violent porn?; ?Go to Library;? ?Stop phone plan,? ?Get Prepaid Cell Phone,? and ?Subscribe to Anonymizer.? I was hungry. I hadn?t eaten since breakfast, but I had a knot in my stomach and didn?t feel like food. Finally, I got a slice of bread and put a slice of lunchmeat and cut banana on it. I was able to get most of it down but couldn?t finish the banana. Then I sat down, turned on the TV, and channel surfed and watched a soccer game until I got tired. Again, I heard Celia come in at about 2. The next morning, I got up at 6 and took a shower, and then spent a half- hour trying to dry my hair. I needed a better shower cap. I sat down and did my makeup as I had learned the last couple of days. I didn?t want to look like a young girl, but rather as much like a woman as I could. Then I brushed out my hair and put it up as they had shown me when the curls had been put in. Finally, I had some cereal and fruit. I tried to be quiet to avoid waking Celia. Next, I put on the larger of the shorts I had bought at the thrift shop and a casual top and walked out the door at 7:15. That gave me 30 minutes to spare. I walked to the Sunny Skies Casino and found the check-in area for the rooms and asked the concierge about libraries in the area. He looked it up on his computer and said there was one about a mile away, on the other side of the strip. I decided to go there after I talked to Mr. Mason. I arrived at the office a few minutes before 8. However, no one was there. It wasn?t until 8:30 that Mr. and Mrs. Mason showed up. Mr. Mason saw me, and immediately realized his error and said, ?Oh, Blossom, I?m sorry I?m late. We?ve been burning the midnight oil working on your project. You should go online and see yourself. You?re very attractive.? I murmured, ?Thank You, Mr. Mason.? Then he said, ?We got a bid in for $20,000 last night. That?s $6000 in your pocket.? I said, ?I thought I was getting 40% Mr. Mason, $8000, plus an extra $1000 for the spanking, which is $9000?? He said, ?Yes, well, we had to pay the video crew for yesterday, that decreases the margin, and there is less to share.? I said, ?Are you getting $6000 too. That would imply the expenses are $8000.? Mr. Mason looked at me with surprise; I guess that I understood percentages. He said, ?Well, sort of, when you add in the cost of the web site.? I said, ?But you have the website anyway. There is no additional cost except for putting up one additional page. It doesn?t make sense to put web site costs on the expenses for the video.? Then he said coldly, ?That is what my business advisor told me to do. I?m sure it is perfectly legal.? I knew it was a good time to stop asking. After all, there was nothing but his word promising me 40% plus and extra $1000, and now I had the feeling his word wasn?t worth much. We went into the office. Mr. Mason said, ?Blossom, find a place to sit, and I will get the papers for you to sign.? I noticed he didn?t say ?read and sign.? From that, I anticipated a disagreeable conversation. But Elvis had been notorious for reading things before he signed them, and Helen didn?t see any reason to change. I also needed to tell him that there were limits on the internet porn I would do. So, I sat down at a conference table and twiddled my thumbs for a few minutes. Mrs. Mason had made the two of them some coffee, and finally, I asked, ?Mrs. Mason, can I have a cup of coffee, please?? She appeared startled, but with ill grace, she pointed to some cups beside the coffee and said, ?Those are for visitors. Help Yourself.? I got up and poured a cup, added some whitener and sweetener, and brought it and a napkin back to the conference table. Mrs. Mason was watching me with ill-concealed disdain. When I sat down, she said, ?You have to find something to wear that covers you up more.? I said, ?Huh. What do you mean?? She said, ?You have a sweet, innocent, young look. You don?t want to ruin it by getting a sunburn and heavy tan lines. It?s in the contract you will be signing.? I said, ?OK, Good to know.? Mr. Mason came back with a heavy sheaf of papers with tabs at the sides. There had to be at least 50 pieces of paper there. He said, ?Here, the pages you need to sign are tabbed. After you sign, I will make a copy for you to read if you want.? I replied, ?Mr. Mason, we talked about this. I need to read those and understand the commitments before I sign them.? He counted to three, and said, ?So read them. I have someplace you can sit out of the way.? I said, ?I will take them to the library where I can use the internet to research any questions.? He pursed his lips and counted to three and replied, ?OK, Mark any questions, and I will answer them later.? I said, ?OK. By the way, I have some other concerns I wanted to discuss with you. I felt rushed into the photoshoots we did yesterday. I was very uncomfortable with some of the material.? He broke in and said, ?Helen, there are times when you need to be naked and show your body. It is part of this business.? I said, ?I realize that. That is not the problem.? He said coldly, ?Then what is the problem?? I replied, ?The problem is that the video portrayed me as a child. So, the film was patently illegal. And, more important, it was immoral. I don?t want to do anything that implies that sex with an underage girl is acceptable. Furthermore, the video portrays the male lead as my father. So, it implies incest. Again, I don?t want to be part of anything that implies incest is OK. And finally, there is violence and coercion against my character in the video. I absolutely do not want to be part of any implication that violence against women is acceptable. I don?t want to do any more videos that imply any of those things.? Mr. Mason replied, ?Blossom, my lawyer has reviewed the material and informed me that the implications of youth, incest, and the violence are within acceptable bounds and that the film is legal.? While saying that, he leaned over and came close in a threatening manner. I replied as firmly as I could in my young woman?s voice, ?I am not sure of that. But I am sure it is immoral. I won?t do anything like it again.? I glared back at him. He looked at me in anger and said, ?You?re passing up a lot of money. I can get you lots of parts if you are willing to be portrayed as a little girl having sex with a grown man. I guess we can make sure there is no violence. Arthur likes to hurt girls a little. If he went too far yesterday, I apologize. I can promise that any actor we used in the future would not hit you so hard. Besides, you seemed to enjoy it. And, after all, you have signed up to fuck men who hurt you.? I blushed, and said, ?The pain was tolerable. That is not the point. The point is that impressionable boys and men could see that video and get the message that hurting women was OK, that women liked it. I won?t be part of that. I may be willing to receive abuse as a prostitute for some extra money. But what I decide is acceptable for myself, as a consenting adult, is different than implying it is acceptable for someone else. I don?t want to imply violence against women is OK in general.? By this time, his face was red, and he looked like he wanted to kill me. I wished I had arranged this interview for later in the day when more people were around. I was glad Mrs. Mason was there, even though she appeared not to like me. Finally, Mr. Mason backed away. He said, ?we will talk about this when a specific part comes up. In the meantime, we need those papers signed as soon as possible. Do you think you can finish your research today?? I said, ?I?ll try.? With that, he said, ?I have a meeting in a few moments. Please sit somewhere else.? Mrs. Mason also left Mr. Mason?s office. When we got, Mrs. Mason appeared to be looking at me with some respect. She said, ?Good for you, Blossom. Good for you. Here, let me get you a clip and a sack to hold those papers. You will need it.? After she got those, I asked, ?So, where did you get the name ?Blossom?? My name is Helen.? Mrs. Mason said, ?All escorts go under a fake name. It?s safer. A john will have a harder time finding you that way. And if you wind up doing porn, a lot of men will have a harder time finding you. That is good. You only want to be available when you want, not when they want. You were not here when they were putting that stuff on the web, so I suggested ?Blossom.? It seemed to suit you. I didn?t choose a last name, but you should.? It sounded like a done deal. ?Blossom? is not what I would have chosen. It has sort of a sexual connotation in English. But I can live with it. Maybe I could add a Japanese first name that I could use when I wanted to sound more adult and dignified? What would be something with a similar meaning? Hmm, how about Sakura, cherry blossom. Now, what would be a good last name? I decided that a Japanese sounding last name would be good, to differentiate me from my real English last name. I decided on Miyamoto. It was distinctly Japanese, but there were quite a few Miyamotos in the US too. I said to Mrs. Mason, ?OK, Sakura Blossom Miyamoto. That will be my professional name.? Then Mrs. Mason said, ?You interested in breakfast? I and some other businesswomen get together for breakfast every Thursday.? I didn?t have to think twice. I needed to make some friends and try to decrease my isolation. I said, ?Well, I have had some cereal. But I could stand some more coffee.? She said, ?Let?s go.? So, we went to a restaurant in the Sunny Skies Casino, where they had a room for parties. There were about 20 women there. When we arrived, Mrs. Mason said, ?Hey, everybody, I?d like you to meet Blossom. She just told Don to take his incestual, violent videos and stuff them where the sun doesn?t shine.? Most of the women sort of waved, but a few clapped loudly. One tall, slender young woman came over and said, ?Congratulations, Blossom. We saw your video. It was bad. Glad you have decided not to do anymore.? I sort of smiled and said, ?Yes, no more pretending to be a minor having sex, no more pretending to have sex with a Daddy, no more being spanked in a video. That sort of stuff gives guys with weak minds the idea it?s acceptable.? She looked at me and said, ?I hate to say it, but you?ll have a hard time not looking underage. Are you sure you?re 19?? I said, ?Yes, Maam. I graduated high school last year. You want to see my ID? She shook her head. She introduced herself as Chelsea. She and I and Mrs. Mason, Joyce, sat together at a table for 4. A young Hispanic woman who introduced herself as Juanita soon joined us. Both Juanita and Chelsea had once been escorts at AAA but had quickly decided the life was not for them. Juanita now worked as Croupier at Sunny Skies Casino. She and her boyfriend were planning on marriage soon. I asked if she had told him. She said, ?Yes, I had to. If it was a big problem, I needed to know before we were married. He wasn?t exactly wild about the news but seemed to have come to terms with it.? Chelsea worked at a local museum. Neither Juanita nor Chelsea made that much money now, but both were happy to have left AAA, although Chelsea admitted she had a couple of private clients she serviced, men she had met when she was at AAA. She commented that if Mr. Mason knew, he would probably try to sue her for infringement of his business. Joyce just laughed about that. She said, ?Yes, Don might. But he wouldn?t be successful. Many courts have ruled that employees moving on, and taking customers with them is legal. But Don is a lawyer, and it wouldn?t cost him much to sue. He?s always suing someone. Most of the time it doesn?t come to much.? I asked Joyce, ?Joyce, you don?t seem to be very happy with your husband. Are you two not getting along?? She said, ?I was an escort before we were married. But Don needed someone to organize his business. I?m an excellent organizer. I wanted to get out of the escort profession. It?s just not emotionally healthy. Anyway, he hired me to work in the office, and we hit it off, and he asked me to marry him, and I accepted. But after we were married, he continued to put the moves on any escort who worked out of AAA. I was angry, of course. But we talked about it, and it became clear that that was the way it was going to be. Anyway, the benefits in terms of stability and safety and money are too good to throw the marriage away. Nevertheless, it hurts. Every time a new girl comes in that I think he will like I get a little pissed off. That?s why I was angry with you that first day, Blossom. I shouldn?t have been, I know. It?s Don?s fault, not yours.? Then she continued, ?Beware though, Blossom. Don?s pissed off at you right now because you won?t be a happy little hooker who does whatever he suggests. But that won?t last. And when it stops, he will start trying to get you to bed.? Chelsea laughed and said, ?Yes, he will. You are just the kind of young, innocent-looking girl that he lusts after. He will be all over you. My advice is, don?t listen to promises. He?s a habitual liar. When he wants something, he will say whatever it takes to get it. If you want to fuck him, go ahead. He knows what he?s doing and has a great package, so it?s a good experience. But don?t believe any of his bullshit. He?s got a good thing going with Joyce doing most of the work and him running around pretending to be important, and he?s not going to give it up. And he does love Joyce in his way and won?t leave her.? It seemed odd to talk this way about Don with Joyce sitting there. But Joyce was nodding her head. I guess she was OK with it. Then Juanita chimed in, ?And don?t fall for promises about money. He won?t come through. And if you make him give you cash upfront, he will short your other pay to make up for it. In fact, he will probably try to short your other pay anyway. Don?t give him an excuse.? I looked at Chelsea and Juanita. It was clear that both had once fallen for Don?s line. He must be persuasive. I said, ?Geez, I?m surprised anyone will work for him?? Chelsea said, ?They will because of Joyce. She controls the business. She has a knack for finding ways to attract Johns. She has contacts all over the Strip. She is good at screening Johns to make sure they are legit and not dangerous. And she makes sure the escorts get most of their money. Without her, AAA would fold in a few months.? Then an older woman came by and introduced herself as ?Mrs. Betts.? She said she organizes the showgirls for the Sunny Skies Casino. Mrs. Betts said that showgirl acts were not as popular as they once were, but there were a few around. She asked, ?Blossom, have you ever danced?? I said, ?Well, I took a couple of years of ballet, but gave it up in high school.? She said, ?Good. We need an Asian showgirl. I would encourage you to come in and try out. The pay is OK, and it?s healthy and fun and exciting. The girls who do it seem to love it.? Then she gave me her card. The thought of dancing in a chorus line wearing a brief outfit was very intimidating to me, who still envisioned herself as a man. But maybe it would be good to do something besides being an escort. I had enjoyed ballet as Elvis. But I had had a problem with macho self-image in high school, and I couldn?t deal with the teasing from other guys. Nobody would tease me now, considering who I had become. I smiled and said, ?I?ll give you a call later when I get settled.? After breakfast, I went to the library. I started with research on phones, email, and internet use. Yes, they could trace my phone. It required a court order, but law enforcement could gt that easily. I just hoped there was none in place yet. I looked for prepaid phones on the web. I could buy a prepaid cell phone at Walmart for $45. I had saved almost $100 from the advance I had gotten a few days ago, so I could afford that. There was a Walmart a few miles from the strip. It was a long walk, but doable. I also checked on whether I could be traced just by reading my email. After going through a lot of web sites, I learned I could be traced if law enforcement could intercept a sent email. But I did not plan to send email to anyone the police knew about. In fact, I couldn?t. I just wanted to read my old email in case my sister sent me more. I didn?t think I could be traced just by doing that. However, logging in to my email provider over the internet was traceable, unless I was using an anonymizer. I investigated anonymizers, and there were several sites based out of the country that costed very little, $2.50/month. However, I would need to have a credit card to set up an account. And using my old credit card in the name Elvis Watson could be traced. I needed a new one. I decided to establish a bank account and credit card in the name Sakura Blossom Miyamoto since AAA issued checks in that name. But that would require an ID in that name. I would ask Joyce if she knew how I could get some ID as Sakura Blossom Miyamoto. Next, I read the papers that Mr. Mason had given me to sign. I went over them carefully, often using Wikipedia to look up terms I didn?t know. It took a while to get through them. I didn?t understand the implications of everything even then, and I made a list of concerns and questions for Mr. Mason. I decided at a minimum that any agreement would be of limited duration and would include a stipulation that I would not have to do kiddy porn, incest, or porn portraying violence. I left the library and walked to Walmart. It wasn?t too hot a walk. But it felt a little bit intimidating to be a slender, young woman by herself trying to walk several miles and find a store in a city she didn?t know well without the use of google. But I had written down the directions at the library, so things worked out. At Walmart, I bought a prepaid phone with no problems. They asked me my name, and I told them Sakura Blossom Miyamoto. But they didn?t demand an ID. I paid the $45 plus tax in cash and, Wala; I had an untraceable phone. Now, what should I do with my old phone? I would like it to disappear. I didn?t want anyone else to pick it up and use it and provide a means to trace Elvis to Las Vegas. How would I do that? I would have to think about it. I walked back to AAA Escort Services, without any directions from my new phone, which was very low on power. I got turned around a bit, but it?s hard to miss the strip. I gave Joyce my new phone number and told her I wouldn?t be answering my old. Joyce told me, ?The bids on the auction have increased to $23,000. We will not accept bids after midnight tonight. Then tomorrow or Saturday will be the day to deliver the goods.? That was a sobering thought since I was the ?goods.? But I had known that would be the case because of my punishment for what I had done. I would deal with it as best I could. Then Don, Mr. Mason, came out of his office and saw me and smiled. I didn?t think it was a particularly good smile, but I smiled back and said, ?Hello, Mr. Mason. I got a new phone number. I won?t be answering the old.? Then I gave him the new phone number. He asked, if I was ready to sign the forms. I replied that I had some questions. He invited me into his office, and we talked for almost an hour. I got him to change several provisions to be by mutual consent. I also got him to include a statement that I had the right to review the content of any videos they wanted me to do and refuse to do the video if it contained references to underage girls, references to incest, or any violence against women. Finally, I made the contract valid for two years, not indefinitely. He wasn?t happy, but neither was I. So, I guess it was a reasonable contract. By the time I got back to the motel, it was 4:30. Celia was still asleep but woke up when I came in. She got up and cleaned herself up and did her hair and makeup while I watched the news and thought about all that had happened to me. Once done, Celia said, ?Helen, I don?t have to leave until later. Would you like to go out get some dinner?? I hadn?t had lunch, so dinner sounded good. I freshened up my makeup, and we went to that same Thai restaurant we had eaten at a couple of nights ago. It must be a favorite of Celia?s. After we ordered and ate and went back to the room, Celia said, ?Mr. Mason sent me a text asking me to spend some time telling you about the business.? I looked at her quizzically, and she said, ?Clients, Johns, guys who pay us for sex.? I said, ?Oh, Yeah.? Celia laughed and said, ?Helen, I?ve talked to you enough to know you are not that innocent.? I replied, ?Actually, AAA has renamed me ?Blossom.? But you are right; I know what you a john is. I?d appreciate whatever insights you might have.? Celia said, ?OK, first, have they given you birth control pills yet, and are you taking them?? I said, ?Yes, and yes. Believe me; I don?t want to wind up pregnant. I like kids and all, but I don?t want that.? Celia, ?Don?t worry, you are unlikely to have a child. AAA offers cut-rate abortions. An agreement you signed on your first day compels you to take birth control pills and, if you should wind up pregnant anyway, compels you to get an abortion. But it is a very unpleasant procedure. Best not to do it.? I was shocked and said. ?You?re kidding.? She said, ?No. The agreement probably wouldn?t stand up in court. But no one has challenged it. Besides, the investors don?t take no for an answer.? Next, Celia spent an hour talking about how to figure out what guys were thinking and what different guys might want and how to give it to them. She said, ?One thing that makes it easier is that Mrs. Mason talks to all the guys and asks what they want and then asks questions. She tells you what she thinks they want when you are assigned.? I was impressed with the depth of knowledge required to do this job. Her advice reminded me of when my father had had the coming of age talk about the birds and the bees. My father, bless his heart, had advised me to give happiness to any young lady I was involved with as well as to myself. And he talked a lot about unselfishness and kindness in a relationship. Celia talked only about making my male partner happy, so I could be safe and make money. It was a strange contrast. Then Celia said, ?Blossom, you and I will probably tend to attract different types of guys. So, you should talk to one of the other escorts about this, maybe Ally. She?s small and cute and probably attracts the same sort of guys you will. Helen, ?OK, I?ll ask Mr. Mason about it. Thanks, Celia.? Celia said, ?Please tell Mr. Mason you and I talked, so I?ll get some credit for this. OK?? I answered, ?OK.? Then Celia had to start getting ready for her date tonight. I spent the evening getting familiar with my new phone. I turned my old phone on for the last time and transferred all my pictures, contacts, and other useful data. I would miss my old phone. It had been a graduation present from my father. It had been a good smartphone when I got it. It and I had been through a lot together, military and medic training, three overseas tours, and two girlfriends. I knew it was stupid getting sentimental about a phone, but I would miss it. As I was waiting for the data transfer to complete, I unaccountably began to cry, in fact, to sob uncontrollably. I had been so busy just trying to deal with day to day crises since the trial, that I had not mourned my lost life. But the loss now seemed overwhelming and tragic. As Elvis, when I had an emotional loss, I would react by talking to friends, by losing myself in the things I liked to do, mainly spend time with family, sports and reading, or by going to a bar and drinking too much. Now here I was, alone in a cheap motel room that I shared with another prostitute, crying like a little girl. But thinking about that just emphasized that I had lost who I used to be and made me cry more. Finally, I had to give up. It didn?t solve anything and was mentally draining. When the data transfer finished, I looked at my old phone one more time before shutting it off forever. I noticed that I had received a couple of phone calls and several texts. One phone call was from an unknown number, but I thought I remembered it was from AAA Escorts. I decided to ignore it. I had given them my new number. The other phone call and all the texts were from my sister and aunt. I read the texts, and they were requests from my aunt to call them, saying she would start chemo next week. She said she loved me and hoped I was alright. She hoped I would find a way to contact them. I tried to return the call. But my fingers wouldn?t work. So, I sadly just turned my old phone off. Then I logged onto Google and established a new account for use by new acquaintances and, I hoped, new friends. I tried [email protected], but that was taken, as were [email protected] and [email protected] and even [email protected]. Damn, there were a lot of girls out there named blossom. How come Elvis never knew any of them? I wound up with [email protected]. Finally, I installed a Gmail antitracking app called pixel block to give added security. I wanted to log into my old account and see if I had any email from my aunt or sister that hadn?t been transferred to my old phone yet, but I didn?t want to take the risk of contaminating my new phone. So, that would have to wait until I could get a credit card and an anonymizer. Then I threw out the boxes from my new cellphone and cleaned up a little. I still didn?t know how to dispose of my cellphone, so I put it in my drawer under my small stash of clothes. That pile of Celia?s stuff I had put out of sight in a corner was still there, and her bed was a mess. I found a little more of her stuff lying around in the common area and put it neatly into the pile. Then I went to the refrigerator and got a beer. I tried to twist the cap off but was no longer strong enough. Damn it. I searched around and found an opener. Then I sat in front of the TV and watched the news while I read some more from the Scientific American I had bought. Almost like the old days. Except that I was wearing a nightgown, had earrings dangling that swung when my head moved, and looked down and saw breasts on my chest and slender, hairless legs sticking out from under my nightgown with small women?s feet at the ends. I only had a couple of swallows of the beer before I started getting cold. I turned off the TV, brushed my teeth, and cleaned myself up as I taught in my ?makeup? lessons. Then I emptied the bottle into the sink, and got my magazine, and laid down in my bed. I had trouble falling to sleep, thinking about what I would have to do tomorrow. I wanted to get into the AAA office early and talk to Joyce. I finally fell to sleep at 11. But I woke up when Celia came in at three and had a hard time falling to sleep again. I think it was 5 when I finally did. I had set my alarm for 8:00 the next morning. It woke Celia too, who cursed at me and rolled back over. I felt groggy and washed out and thought about going back to sleep. But I needed to talk to Joyce about today. I took a shower and had breakfast. Then I did my makeup, put on earrings, dressed in a top and the tight shorts I bought a couple of days ago, and got to AAA Escorts offices at about 9:00. I walked in, and Mr. Mason smiled at me and said, ?Hi Blossom. Did you get my emails?? I said, ?No, I am being harassed by an old boyfriend and canceled that email. My new email is [email protected]. And I gave you my new phone number yesterday.? He replied, ?Oh, right. Then he sat down and asked, ?What was the new email again?? I said, [email protected].? He entered it into his phone contacts. Then he continued happily, ?The winning auction bid was $27000. The guy will not be here until Saturday night, so we charged him an additional $1000 to make up for a day?s lost income, and, on Saturday, he wants to make it a threesome, so we charged an additional $1000.? I shook my head and asked, ?What does it mean to make it a threesome?? He said, ?I don?t know. Ask Joyce. She is the one who talked to the guy. She is down the hall talking to a friend but should be back soon.? Then he said, ?Next week, we will shoot the continuation of the video. I promise, no insinuation of you being a child, or of incest, or any spanking.? I said, ?I need to see the script. The contract I signed says that I can review all scripts.? Mr. Mason replied, ?Yes, it is. But there is no script. There is no talking at all. Just fucking.? ?What,? I said. How can that be?? Mr. Mason said, ?We will pair it with what we already have to make a complete porn video. We will both make out like banditos.? I said, ?I?m not sure I want to do that.? He said, ?You have to. There is no basis for you refusing the script. No kiddy porn, no incest, and no violence. Just good, clean fucking. And your compensation will be standard for the industry, an upfront payment of $1000 plus 10% of the gross.? I decided not to argue more right now. Maybe I could see if a lawyer agreed. I sat and waited for Joyce. About 20 minutes later, she came in and noticed me and came over and hugged me like her long-lost daughter. I smiled at her and asked, ?So I understand we got a good bid and that tomorrow?s the big day?? Joyce said excitedly, ?Yes, come over to my desk and I will tell you all about it.? After she got me a cup of coffee, she said, ?As usual, the bids became more frequent as the end date came along. The winning bid of $27,000 came in only 30 seconds before the deadline. It came from a 50-year-old man in Japan. His name is Ken Hamasaki, probably an alias. When he won, he called immediately. He said his son wanted to participate too, and that they would be taking pictures. I told him OK, but it would cost an extra $1000 for a second person and an extra $1500 for being able to take pictures. That?s our policy for threesomes. He agreed to that. His son?s name is Isamu, by the way. Probably also an alias. Then he told me they couldn?t get here until Saturday. I said that we would have to charge them another $1000 for lost income since you would have to remain a virgin another day. He agreed to that so readily that I regretted not asking for more,? she said and laughed. Then she said, ?He wants you to wear the Kimono outfit you wore in the video and to wear a specific hairdo.? Then Joyce showed me a picture he had sent. It showed a young girl with a distinctly Japanese hairdo. She asked, ?Is that OK, Blossom?? I nodded and said, ?Hmm, that hairdo is for young girls, but not usually worn by Japanese women.? Joyce continued, ?He sounds like a very nice guy, Blossom. He said he wanted to make sure you were as comfortable as possible. He wants you to address him as ?Chichi? and to address his son as ?Ani?. Is that OK?? I said, ?Yes, I guess. Did he tell you what those words meant?? She said, ?No. what do they mean?? I said, ??chichi? means ?daddy,? and ?ani? means older brother. She said, ?Oh, it sounds a little bit kinky.? I looked down at my breasts and said, ?Yes, more than a little. Did he say any more about what he wanted?? Joyce said, ?He asked if you had trained as a geisha.? I laughed, ?No, to be a geisha takes years of training. Even if I had started when I was 5, that wouldn?t have been enough time.? At my mention of the age of training, she raised her eyes. I smiled and said, ?You do know, don?t you, that a geisha is NOT a prostitute. A geisha is an entertainer, mostly of men, but wealthy women have been known to hire a geisha for a party. The geisha?s art is conversation, singing, playing an instrument, and dancing. I don?t sing or play an instrument, and I will be hard-pressed to hold a conversation in Japanese. I could look up how Geishas serve tea and do some sort of Japanese Tea Service. And I can maybe work up a little ballet routine.? Joyce replied, ?Anything you can do would be good. After all, these men have paid a lot of money for an afternoon and evening entertainment, and we should try to make them happy. I?d like a good review, or at least avoid having a disgruntled customer.? I said, ?Joyce, Celia thought I should talk to an escort who attracts the same types of men I will attract. The name she mentioned was Ally. What do you think?? Joyce, ?I would not be able to set that up between now and tomorrow, but definitely on Sunday. You will be too sore to take a client that day anyway.? ?Geez,? I thought, ?Good news for modern woman.? I said, ?OK, even after tomorrow, it would be useful to know as much as I can about being an escort. Do you have any advice for me?? Joyce had lots of advice. She talked for an hour about ways to please a man, about how to infer what he was thinking, about how to protect myself, and how to stay healthy, including how to avoid pregnancy. It was very useful, and I asked her for some paper so that I could take notes. She asked me not to write her name on the paper. Then she said, ?You have an appointment tomorrow morning at 9 at the beauty salon you went to before to make sure you are ready. We will take the price out of your pay. Come by afterward, and I will have the details of where you need to go and what time.? I asked, ?Will I have any pay at all? It seems you are always taking something out of my pay.? She laughed and said, ?Our policy is that it is your responsibility to be ready for dates. If we do something to affect that process, then we will pay the extra, like when you had your hair done one way, and we required a change at the last minute. In a way, you are an independent contractor, with us supplying the referrals. I always preferred working that way to having someone hovering over me telling me what to do on some 8-hour shift. But you are due for a big paycheck. You will definitely have some good cash in your pocket next week.? I asked, ?What will I get for this ?date??? Joyce said, ?We normally pay our escorts 40% of what we get from the client. But in this case, we had to do a video for the auction, and we decided to take it out before we computed your 40%, and we decided to charge you part of the costs of the auction. That seems fair. So, your total comes to $7000.? I replied, ?But that implies that the net is $17,500. Are you saying the costs of the video plus the costs of the website was $13,000? That seems excessive. Plus, which, Don promised me $1000 for doing the video. I thought that would be aside from any percentages.? Joyce said, ?Yes, but we normally charge our girls $1000 for the photoshoot to get an initial set of pictures on the website. Those two charges offset.? I replied, ?OK, but what about the $13000? How was that computed?? She said, the two videos are $3000 each shoot, and the website change was $5,000.? I took a deep breath, and said, ?OK, let?s talk about those charges one at a time. There were not two video shoots, only one.? Joyce said, ?There?s another one next week.? I replied, ?So, the second shoot is not part of the auction, and any costs should not be included to compute the auction net.? Joyce thought about it, and said, ?OK, let?s remove the $3000 from the computation of the net. That would make the net 20,500, and your part would be $8200.? Then I said, ?And the charge of $5000 seems excessive to change a website.? Joyce said, ?Well, it includes putting in the ability to play videos on the website, the ability to collect money for viewing the website, and the ability to do what is legally necessary to have X-rated pages.? ?So, you are charging people to see that video?? ?No,? Joyce said, ?but the ability to charge people to view your video, along with others, will be important in the future. And it will earn you 10% every viewing.? I asked, ?Will you have other videos to view?? She said, ?That is the plan.? Then I said, ?That means I shouldn?t bear the entire cost of the changes. How about I only pay 10%.? Joyce said, ?This is Don?s decision, and I know he won?t budge. But I can offer you 10% of all profits from the website page with the video up to a total amount of $4500, which is 90% of what we are charging you.? I agreed to that. After this discussion, the reasons for Joyce?s reputation were clear to me. She was tough as nails, but she was fair, and if you pointed out where she was wrong, she would change her mind. I liked her more and more. Then, I said, ?You have been saying you had a bundle of clothing for me to use working, including a Kimono. When can I get it? I need it for the date.? Joyce replied, ?Right, I will have it for you tomorrow morning.? Finally, I asked, ?Joyce, is there any way I can get some ID in the name Sakura Blossom Miyamoto. I want to open a bank account in that name.? She said, ?I probably could get you some, but I think most banks require you to have a social security number to open an account.? I said, ?Please get me an ID card. I will check on the SSAN with banks. Then I walked back to the room and looked up ?Japanese Tea Service? on my new phone. I found a lot of information, but little detailed information on the formalities. I had thought I could maybe do a formal service in my Kimono to start the date, but I soon realized that I had neither the expertise nor the equipment to pull it off. So rather than look foolish, I decided to try to find a good commercial tea service in Las Vegas. Using my phone, I found a specialty tea service, Cha Garden, at the Lucky Dragon Casino on the strip. I would have to go and see whether they delivered. I put on a hat and some cheap sunglasses I from the thrift shop and headed to the Lucky Dragon. The strip is very large, and walking from place to place can be complicated. It took me 40 minutes to get to the strip and then go the six blocks to the Lucky Dragon and then find the Cha Garden. I went in and asked if they had takeout. The manager said that the Lucky Dragon offered service from the Cha Garden, but otherwise no. I explained what I wanted to do, and the lady, who was Chinese, asked, ?Hmm, have you done a tea service before?? I said, ?No, I grew up with my Anglo father and didn?t have an opportunity to learn to do a tea service.? She pursed her lips in disapproval of his not having taught me the rudiments of manners, and said, ?Well, I could show you how to brew some fine Chinese tea in a pot, and after that, you could just pour and serve. Not elegant, but what can you do in a barbaric place like this.? Then she laughed to show that it was a joke, and I laughed too. She brought out a pot and some filters and showed me how to brew the tea, and then sold me a teapot, a filter, and some good Asian tea. Whew, that took a lot of my remaining money. She asked if I wanted to buy a service set too, but I couldn?t afford it. I hoped I could find something in the thrift shop. I walked back to my room and got caught in a crowd at a stoplight. As I was waiting, I was surprised by a sharp pain in my ass, and jumped and squealed and turned around, only to see some man?s back as he walked away. Then I realized that he had pinched me in the ass ? what a bastard. I wanted to go after him, but to what purpose? I couldn?t do anything about it, and I didn?t want to waste time calling the police, who probably wouldn?t do anything about it either. I just muttered to myself what a jerk he was. A young black woman who had been looking at the scene laughed and said, ?Hey, Sweetie, when you wear skintight pink shorts, you?re asking for it. You need to dress more conservatively.? I looked down and saw she was right. These shorts not only were tight, but they were translucent and showed my panties clearly. I looked at her and said, ?Right. I need to change.? She laughed and said, ?Unless you like being pinched, you do.? Another lesson I learned about being a girl. I couldn?t waste any time thinking about how unfair it was. I just had to deal with it. I dropped the tea stuff off in my room, changed into the shorts I had worn yesterday, which were much less revealing, and ate some leftover Thai food for lunch. I also experienced being cursed by Celia again. Then, I walked to the thrift shop. I found a tea serving set. The cups were English rather than Asian but were nice. I also found some ballet shoes that fit me. I had seen them the other day and had been praying that they were still there and that they fit. They were, and they did, and they had only a little bit of wear. The ballet shoes were perfect for what I had planned for the date. I had just enough money left to buy the tea set and ballet shoes and still have one more meal out. The gods were smiling, a little anyway. After that, I went back to the motel room. Celia was scurrying around, getting dressed for a date. After about 15 minutes, she asked how she looked. I told her she looked great, and really, she did look great unless you insisted on a young look. She was relatively tall and slender, with prominent breasts and moderately wide hips and ass. Her face was lovely with blond hair and beautiful skin, and with only a hint of wrinkles. She looked intelligent and kindly. Knowing the reality of her drug use, I felt bad for her. But if I were Elvis again, I would have loved to spend time with her, with or without sex. Celia thanked me and said, ?Wish me luck, Blossom.? She was out the door before I could ask her why she needed luck. My goal this evening was to prepare for tomorrow. The first thing I needed to do is get my head straight. My date tomorrow was going to happen. It didn?t matter that I still thought of myself as male. It didn?t matter that I didn?t want to have sex with johns. As a male, I had always fantasized about falling in love with a beautiful, loving woman and her falling in love with me and that leading to sex. That was not the way it was going to go tomorrow. Nevertheless, I had to do this. I spent a while visualizing what might happen and how I might react. Next, I tried out the teapot I had gotten from Chai Gardens. I brewed tea several times, keeping notes on exactly what I did. Eventually, I brewed an excellent pot of tea. Then I got out the tea service and practiced elegantly pouring the tea from the brewing pot into the cups and carrying them carefully over to the table and setting them out on the table with spoon and napkins and putting sweeteners in the middle of the table. I reflected that I might be serving tea on a low table, and practiced bending from the knees to do so. Finally, I was ready to serve tea. Undoubtedly it would appear awkward to the men, but it was the best I could do for now. Then, I put on the ballet shoes. I planned to do some simple ballet steps from nutcracker while talking about the story. First, I went online and reminded myself of the story details and got some background on the first performance, who wrote it, who first performed it, and when and where was the first performance. Then I decided how I would dance as I described the story ? just a few steps for each part of the storyline. Next, I tried some basic steps, knowing I had to practice doing it as a woman, rather than a man. In ballet, men focused on athleticism, with grand sweeping gestures. I remembered my teacher wanted me to use my arms, not to windmill, but to use focused gestures to emphasize parts of the story and the set. In ballet, women?s demeanor was diffident, and they danced with agility and grace. Of course, some women in ballet were very athletic, and all women dancers, as well as all men, were athletic to some extent. But a female dancer needed grace and her gestures needed to portray emotion. Both men and women get training in those two things, but training in portraying emotions had been minimal when I learned ballet as Elvis. I found a recording on my phone of the nutcracker and watched the women and tried to imitate them closely. After a couple hours, I thought I had a good, basic dance to show. Celia came in halfway through and was surprised that I had pushed the furniture aside and was going through a dance. After I finished, she clapped. She said, ?That was great, Blossom. But why are you doing this?? I told her my story, and she said, ?Blossom, those men didn?t pay all that money to watch you dance, they are there to fuck you. You should be thinking about what you will do in bed to make them happy, not about amusing them with a ballet.? I said, ?Celia, Joyce said these men wondered whether I had training as a geisha. Well, I haven?t, but geisha?s dance to amuse clients. This is as close to a geisha?s craft as I can get. Besides, not all men think of sex exclusively. Some of them also appreciate art. And if they think of me as accomplished at something, how can they help but respect me at least a little. And if they respect me, they will be nicer to me.? Celia laughed and said, ?Dream on, Blossom. Men don?t respect whores. And that?s all escorts are, high-class whores. Men may be nice, or they may be crude and mean, but they think of us as a collection of body parts they can play with, and they don?t respect us.? Then she continued, ?So you said men, how many men.? I replied, ?Two.? Then she said, ?Do they plan to tag team you or both do you at the same time?? I hadn?t thought of that. I said quietly, ?I don?t know.? Celia replied, ?They will probably tag team you. You are special right now, because you?re a virgin, and they will both want to sample your pussy. But I wouldn?t assume it. I would bring enough lubricant for your ass too. Just in case.? The thought of that gagged me. Then she said, ?Well, I need to put on some flats. The guy I met wants to do the town, and I can?t do it in these 4-inch heels.? I replied, ?See, he thinks you are more than just tits and a pussy. He wants to be with you, talk with you. You have something else of value.? She said, ?Yes, I guess so. I?m sorry, Blossom. I didn?t mean to be such a downer.? Then, unaccountably, I started crying, positively sobbing. Why the hell did I do that? As Elvis, I never cried. I said, ?I was just enjoying dancing, feeling agile and graceful, interpreting a story of love. It is depressing to think that what I can do might be meaningless. But you gave me valuable advice. I will make sure I have lots of lubricant.? By the time I finished with the dance, it was 8. I decided to have some dinner. I got some Thai leftovers from the refrigerator out and heated them. I ate slowly, thinking about what Celia had said. It was scary. It was bad enough to think of a man pushing his cock into a place that was designed to receive one, but it was terrifying to think about my mouth or ass having to accommodate a cock. Could I do it? Well, I didn?t have much choice. In the agreements with these men, there were no limits on what kind of sex we had. I better be as prepared for anal or oral as well as vaginal. After dinner and clean-up, I got a table knife and put some lubricant on it and tried to put the handle in my ass. With enough lubricant, it went up a little. I wondered what the problem was. I went to a drugstore and bought an enema and some fast-acting laxative tablets with the last of my money. I irrigated myself and then sat on the toilet and flushed out. When I tried the knife thing again, it went in considerably further. But I realized my bowels could fill in again overnight, so I would have to do the enema again in the morning. For now, I took some of the laxatives. Next, I tested several lubricants I had bought. One was a suppository-like thing that was said to dissolve in 20 minutes in response to body heat. That would prevent me from having to interrupt the flow of things by applying a lubricant. But it didn?t liquify completely. Scented KY- jelly worked best. By this time, it was almost 10. I applied cold cream to remove makeup, took a shower, dried my hair, and used the toilet in response to the laxative. I was ready for bed, but something seemed to be missing. I decided to try some scented lotion, which, for some reason, made me smell feminine and feel more confident. Then I went to bed. It was almost 11. I slept fitfully, worrying about tomorrow. Would I be able to make two men happy enough that they wouldn?t regret spending an ungodly amount of money to be with me for an evening? I knew the sex would hurt. I remembered the pain I had felt ten days ago when I had been abducted, transformed into a woman, and raped. Would I be able to keep my head about me and do what I had to do? I reviewed plans for my entry into the room, what I would say and do. I thought about how I would transition from entertainment to sex. Of course, the men might just grab me and force me, but I thought not. I thought they would wait for me to introduce myself and set the tone of the meeting. Most men have fantasies, and I assumed from what Joyce told me that those involved a willing partner. I had heard that some Asian men believed that having sex with a virgin would make them younger. Is that why they thought being with me was worth the money they had spent. That might make things easier. They wouldn?t have high expectations for me, just that I was a virgin. Finally, at midnight I fell asleep. Only to be woken by Celia coming in at 3 AM. I didn?t manage to get back to sleep for another hour. I got up at 8 and tried to have breakfast but couldn?t eat. My stomach was acidy and just plain hurt. I had some antacids from when I had been Elvis and took a couple. Then I cleaned myself up and made myself presentable, and put on the jeans I had worn yesterday, and a white top and some tennis shoes I had gotten at the thrift store and walked over to the beauty shop. The beautician had been told to make me up as a geisha, but I objected. Geisha?s hairdos were tall and heavy. If I had one of those, there was no chance I could do my little ballet. And I thought the men would want me to look young. Besides, the men had wanted me to have a young girl's hairstyle. The style we settled on was for young girls. It involved sticks in the back of my hair, but I could pull them out when I needed to lay down. It took almost two hours to finish. Then I went to the AAA office, as requested by Joyce. But no one was there. I waited outside the office in a nearly empty building. It was very creepy when a big guy with a very scruffy look entered the hallway and leered at me as he walked by. Joyce finally showed up at almost 12:30. She came in and said, ?I?m sorry I?m late, Blossom. I was out drinking last night and woke up late. Then there were several things I needed to do this morning.? I said, ?That?s OK. You asked me to come by after the visit to the beautician. I assumed you wanted to tell me when and where to meet the two Japanese men.? Joyce said, ?Yes, and to give you some things. By the way, you look very nice. The beautician did a nice job.? I smiled and said, ?Thanks.? Then Joyce said, ?You are to meet Ken and Isamu Hashimoto in the Lucky Dragon Casino, 70th floor, room 70100. I?m a little surprised. I thought they would both have Japanese names.? I said, ?Ken is a Japanese name, means ?strong.?? ?She said, ?Oh, you know a lot about Japan.? I replied, ?I lived there until I was 11. I spoke Japanese, but I have forgotten a lot. I?m hoping the little Japanese I can speak will help us communicate this evening.? Joyce, ?Interesting. Anyway, Ken and Isamu are in a Penthouse room that must have cost them a bundle. No wonder they didn?t blink at the auction price. You are to be there at 2 PM, 1? hours from now. Tomorrow they have a business meeting in Dallas, so they will only be here one day.? I interrupted, ?Will they want me to stay the night?? Joyce replied, ?I don?t know. I doubt it. If they need to get going early, they won?t want you around in the morning? You should be free late tonight. But no promises.? Then she said, ?They have transferred $30,500 to our account, but they have set it up so we can only get half the money now. We can get the rest when they give permission. So, it is important that they be happy when you leave their room.? Then she laughed, ?But, hey, no pressure.? I laughed, too, which broke up the tension that had been building in my stomach. Then Joyce continued, ?Here is a driver?s license for you with the name Sakura Blossom Miyamoto. You can NOT actually drive with it, because if an officer calls it in, they would find it was fake. You owe me $50 for this. We will take it out of your pay. Finally, here is that package of clothing to use for work that you are paying for. It contains all the clothing used in the video, plus a lot more. So, you do have a kimono to use for the date, as promised. Is there anything else?? I said, ?I am almost out of cash. Can I get another $100 advance?? Joyce replied, ?Geez, we gave you $250 just last week.? I bristled, ?Yes, but I asked for it because I arrived with almost no clothes, and I also had no food. I got three casual outfits to wear and have only eaten out twice, and then at a relatively low-cost restaurant. And I had to use some of the money for a phone since I was getting threats on my old phone. Finally, I had to buy a tea set so I could serve tea tonight and a pair of ballet shoes so I could dance if they wanted me to. That all could have cost a lot more than $250, but I was very careful with the money.? Joyce replied, ?OK, OK, but I don?t have any cash on hand. It makes the place a target for thieves. I will try to get some cash for you on Monday. Here, I have a $20 in my purse. Take that for now.? Then she went to her purse and got the $20 and handed it to me.? ?OK,? I replied, ?Thanks.? I took the bill and put it in my purse. Now I had $25 to my name, my new name. I said, ?Thanks again, Joyce. I?d better get going.? I gathered the stuff she had given me and went back to my room. I changed into the revealing pink baby doll I?d worn in the video and put on the kimono over the top. Then I looked through the package of clothing that Joyce had given me. There were a couple of pairs of shoes, but while they were beautiful, none of them were practical for the long walk to the Lucky Dragon, especially not the Japanese clogs. So, I put on some anklets and the pink tennis shoes I?d bought at the thrift store. I put the ID that Joyce had gotten for me in my purse. I decided that some protection might be necessary, both on the date and on the way home. I couldn?t hide my stiletto in my tennis shoes, but I put the small revolver that I had had when I was Elvis into my purse. I packed my tea materials and my purse into a backpack I?d bought for the purpose. I was ready to go. The load was heavier than I had expected. I wished I had known the date would be at the Lucky Dragon. I would have just ordered a tea service. But now I didn?t have enough time or money, so I just went with my original plan. The last thing I did before I left was to redo the enema I had done yesterday. Several times Celia told me, ?Quiet down, Dammit.? I had a hard time not reacting. I was doing the best I could, and was very tense, being on the cusp of doing something for which my background had never prepared me. Finally, I snapped back, ?Go to Hell, Celia. You?d feel a lot better if you weren?t hungover. It?s not my problem.? I could tell she was ticked off, but she didn?t feel well enough to fight. I walked the mile to the Lucky Dragon, asked directions to the penthouse, and had to produce my ID to get access to the elevators. I went up to the 42nd floor and then changed elevators to get up to the 70th floor. The only floor above it was the roof. I walked out of the elevator, and there were only ten doors, and room 71100 was the first. I stepped up to the door, and just about had a nervous breakdown. My mind told me I was Elvis Watson, not this girl, this escort. And I couldn?t allow a man to fuck me. I wasn?t gay. But I looked in the mirror at the elevators, and I was a young, pretty girl who needed to do this. It was part of my punishment for being a scumbag rapist. A punishment I felt in my core that I deserved. Besides, otherwise, the spell I was under might cause me to wind up with a nervous breakdown. To have any sort of future at all, I needed to do this. So, I took a deep breath and knocked on the door. A few moments later, a youngish, good-looking Japanese man opened the door, and I put my hands together in front of me and bowed and gave him a Japanese greeting. He returned the greeting and then spoke a string of Japanese that was incomprehensible to me. I only understood a word here and a word there. I bowed, and said in English, ?I?m sorry for my ignorance, sir. I know only a little Japanese. I understand that you speak English.? He smiled and said, ?Yes. You have some Japanese heritage. Did your family not speak Japanese at home, or has your family been in the US so long they only speak English?? I said, ?My father was Caucasian and was in the US Diplomatic Corps, stationed in Japan. There he met my mother. But I came to the US when I was 11 and have lived here since.? He said, ?Didn?t your mother insist you keep up your Japanese?? I said, ?Sir, my mother died before I came to the US. My father spoke Japanese, but did not speak it often, and not to his children.? I knew the reason Dad did not speak Japanese to Mitty and I was because it had hurt him a great deal when my mother had left him in the US. But I did not mention that. Then the man said, ?I am Isamu Hashimoto. Please use the US custom and call me Isamu. But call my father, Mr. Hashimoto.? I said, ?Thank You, Isamu.? If he had been American, I would have asked to come in. But I was aware that in Japan, women who were too forward were not well regarded. I was determined to maintain the demeanor of a demur, submissive woman. Finally, after looking at me for many seconds, Isamu said, ?You are very beautiful, Blossom.? I said, ?Sir, please call me Sukara. It is more dignified than Blossom.? He smiled and said, ?Yes, every language has its subtle meanings. I will call you Sukara.? I said, ?Thank You, sir,? and stood there a few moments longer as he looked at me. He said, ?You are quite tall for a Japanese woman, but very thin and look very young.? I replied, ?My father was 6? 3? and slender. My body takes after him. Finally, he said, ?Come in, Sukara.? I came into the living room of the suite and saw an older Japanese man sitting on a chair, clearly Isamu?s father. He looked very dignified and smiled kindly. I liked him instantly, even though I told myself that looks do not always reveal what a person?s nature. Isamu said, ?This is my father, Ken Hashimoto. Father, this is Sukara Miyamoto.? I set down my backpack and walked over to him and bowed, and waited for him to speak. Finally, he said, ?You are very beautiful, Sukara. As beautiful as the cherry blossoms for which you are named.? I replied, ?Thank You, Sir.? He said, ?We viewed the video you made. It does not do you justice. You seemed much more ... frivolous and wanton than you do in real life.? I replied, ?Sir, I did not choose the parts I played. I was not comfortable with many things about the video.? He replied, ?We will want you to play some parts too, Sukara. Are you willing to do that?? I smiled and said, ?Yes, Mr. Hashimoto.? Then I asked him if I could serve them tea. Mr. Hashimoto asked, ?Ah, you know how to do a formal Japanese Tea Service.? I replied, ?No, Sir. I saw my mother do one when I was young. But she never tried to teach me, and that was long ago. I have found some excellent Asian tea in Las Vegas and would like to prepare it and serve it to you, but not a formal tea service.? He replied, ?Please.? I went into the kitchen. First, I pulled off my tennis shoes and put on my ballet shoes. They were much more attractive. Then, I pulled my teapot and other tea supplies out of my bag, filled the pot with water, prepared the tea as I had practiced last night, and put it in three cups. I brought cream and sugar out to the table and carefully put it out in a neat pattern. I brought the first cup out for Mr. Hashimoto, who I found sitting at the table with his son. Next, I poured a cup for Isamu and served him. I went back to the kitchen and carefully cleaned up. Then I wondered, should I sit with the two men? Would that be too forward? I thought back to when I was young and remembered my mother do the tea service. I seemed to recall her going out and sitting with her mother and father and guests, so I brought my teacup out to the table and sat across from Isamu. I took a sip. It was wonderful tea. Then Mr. Hashimoto said, ?Tell us of the life of a Japanese American Girl, Sukara.? So, I told them an edited lie of an amalgamation of Elvis?s life and Mitsuko?s life. I told them of my father, upright, dignified, gentle, kind, and loving. They both felt the respect and love I had for him and nodded in approval. Then, I told them of my Aunt, who loved my sister and me and raised us as her children. I told them of my love of school, of learning, of taking ballet lessons, and of being on the school soccer team (girls). Of course, I said nothing about Elvis?s military service or brief college time. I did not mention how I got here, to this place, so Mr. Hashimoto asked. I lied and told them my aunt was sick, and I was sending home money to her. He asked if she knew what I was doing, and I said, ?No. If she knew, she would not accept it.? I had not intended to tell about so much of my life, but once I said a little, it all spilled out. After I concluded, Isamu said, ?I guess triumph and tragedy of young people in America is much like in Japan.? I nodded my assent, and asked, ?Are you familiar with ballet?? Mr. Hashimoto said no. I continued, ?I am prepared to demonstrate some ballet dancing, and narrate the story of the most famous ballet, The Nutcracker.? Mr. Hashimoto said, ?Ah, you will entertain us with dance, like a geisha.? I smiled and nodded. Then he said, ?Yes, please show us your ballet.? I took my bag back to the bath and removed my Kimono and carefully folded it up. That left me in the revealing baby-doll and a pair of dance slippers. I stretched out and went up on my toes and back down several times, trying to make sure my body was ready to dance. Then I reviewed the routine I had made up last night. I checked my appearance, and my makeup still looked OK. The last thing I did was take out the lubricant and put some into my vagina and anus. My nerves returned. Up to now, this had been a very comfortable encounter with two Japanese gentlemen. But I was an escort, not a Geisha. In addition to dancing for them, it was my job to titillate them, to arouse them, and ultimately to satisfy that arousal. As Elvis, when I encountered someone new, I tried to give an impression of interest, intelligence, and what the Romans had called gravitas. But now as a woman, I needed to project interest in them and a flightiness, the light side of femininity. I needed to prance around. Even if it was in dance, this was out of my comfort zone. So, I tried to close my eyes and imagine myself as a little girl, prancing around, being thrilled at girly things. I took a deep breath. I could do this. I walked out into the living room on my toes. Then I started narrating The Nutcracker, in English. I decided that I couldn?t narrate in Japanese well enough. And Mr. Hashimoto and son both spoke excellent English. I danced from point to point, trying to feminize my gestures. I included some twirls and jumps, and ended in a swan, right in front of Mr. Hashimoto. I bowed to him and came back up. I tried to maintain a single-toe stand, but soon lost my balance and went down on my feet. It was not an excellent dance, but I believed it was good enough to give them information about ballet and to arouse them. Mr. Hashimoto and son both applauded. I noticed they were looking raptly at me. Mr. Hashimoto said, ?I assume that in a real performance, the dancers dress in less revealing clothing.? I said yes and described a typical female costume. Then I said, ?But, I do not have any such costumes with me. And this costume seemed appropriate for the occasion,? and laughed lightly. Then I decided it was time for some flightiness, so I went back up on my toes and twirled and ended up with my hands out and curtsied and asked, ?Do you like it?? His face was flushed, his eyes were locked on my pussy, and his pants were tented out. He said, ?Yes, very much.? I reached out and took his hand and brought it under my top to my chest. He cupped my small breast. His hand was warm, and it felt nice. I asked him, ?What would you like to do?? He smiled and said, ?My bedroom is the first one.? Then he walked into it, and I followed him. When we got into the bedroom, he took one of two small glasses and handed it to me and took the other. I recognized it as sake, rice wine, and drank it down in a quick swallow. It would bolster my courage. Mr. Hashimoto started to undress and told me to do the same. Isamu had followed us into the room and switched on a camera mounted at the end of the bed. He turned it on and turned it toward me to catch me finishing. When finished, I started to get under the covers, but Isamu said, ?No, Blossom, stay there. Face the camera. Smile and reveal your breasts.? I did what he asked. Elvis was totally freaked out, but Blossom felt she had to accept the inevitable, I even threw in a couple of shakes of my shoulders, so my boobs bounced a little, and then blew a kiss toward the camera. When Mr. Hashimoto was naked he said, ?Now, Blossom, please lay on your back on the covers and spread your legs and spread your pussy lips so we can see your hymen.? I laid down and spread my vulva, and Isamu zoomed in with the camera. Then Isamu said, ?Bring your legs up so we can look from another angle.? I did as he asked. ?Good,? Isamu said, ?We have verified you are a virgin.? Mr. Hashimoto got on the bed with me. He was in good shape for a man of 50. Compared to Elvis, his cock was not long but was thick. It certainly was not as long or thick as the magically enhanced cocks of the man-women who had raped me a week before. Nevertheless, I found it intimidating. I told him, ?Chichi, tell me what you want me to do. I won?t know otherwise.? That seemed to please him. Mr. Hashimoto said, ?Caress my cock.? I reached my hand out and gripped it carefully and moved the skin up and down the shaft. Then, I put my other hand under his balls and cradled them. He groaned with pleasure. Then he said, ?Kiss it Blossom, and suck it.? I tried, but I had never had anything that long in my mouth before, so I was only able to get a few inches in, but I worked my tongue around the shaft, and he moaned again. He reached out and put his hands on my ass, reaching for my pussy, but his arms weren?t long enough. After a while, h Mr. Hashimoto said, ?Stop.? Then he repositioned himself, so his cock was close to my pussy. He reached over, and Isamu handed him a tube of lubricant, which he gently put into my pussy, adding to what was already there. I appreciated the effort to be gentle with me. Then, he put his hands on the bed on both sides of me and lowered himself, so he was close to me and kissed me on the forehead, and then on the lips, and inserted his tongue into my mouth and touched it to my tongue. After a moment, I returned the gesture. Then he said, ?Musumu, do you want me to deflower you? Do you want me to put my cock in your pussy?? I said, ?Yes, Chichi, Please. I want you inside me. Do it now. I want you.? Then he moved slightly, so his cock was at the entrance to my pussy. Mr. Hashimoto pushed in gently. But he couldn?t gain admittance. The soft bedsprings gave as he pushed, and I went down, and he couldn?t get much pressure on the hymen. He tried several more times. I debated whether to tell him but was concerned that this would threaten his Japanese sense of male dominance. Finally, I pushed my pelvis toward him as he pushed into me. I felt my hymen tear and felt him slide most of the way inside me. It was very painful and made me cry out. But, strangely, somehow the spell interpreted this as abusive sex, so I had an orgasm. I gasped and moaned for several moments. I think it surprised and pleased Mr. Hashimoto. He asked, ?Ah, Josei, did that feel good.? I was still breathing deeply and took a moment to say, ?Yes, Chichi. Yes. It was very good.? Then he started pushing in and out frequently. My torn hymen hurt, and occasionally I couldn?t stop from moaning in pain. But, because I had already cum, I didn?t cum again. Mr. Hashimoto continued thrusting more and more vigorously. Then he stopped and said, ?Josei, I want to turn on our sides.? As he rolled back over, I tried to roll with him. He came out for just a moment, but soon found his way back inside and started thrusting again. Somehow this didn?t hurt me as much, so I just clung to him to keep us close. Finally, I felt him tense up and heard him grunting, and a few moments later felt his cum in my pussy. He kissed me several times, and I kissed him back. He said, ?Thank You Josei. That was very good. Thank You.? I knew my role and said, ?Thank You, Chichi, my lover. It was very good.? We laid there clinging to each other for a while, and I felt him fall asleep. I remembered feeling very tired after sex as Elvis, so I sympathized. I slowly disentangled myself so as not to wake him and got up. Isamu was shutting down the recording. He said, ?My father is very happy. You have done well. When you are cleaned up, come into my bedroom, Imoto.? I said, ?Yes, Ani.? I went into the bathroom and started the shower and cleaned myself off and tried to flush inside my vagina as much as possible. Then I dried off and applied more scented lubricant. I put my pink baby doll back on and went into Isamu?s room. Isamu was waiting, in a very attractive robe. He offered me another sake, and we both sat on some chairs and sipped and talked. When we finished the sake, Isamu motioned me to him. I came close, and he put his hands under my baby-doll and caressed my breasts and kissed me. I kissed him back, and he stuck his tongue into my mouth. Then he pulled me closer, and put his hands on my ass, and caressed it, and finally, he moved aside and brought one hand around to feel my pussy. He felt the slit in front of my panties and stuck his finger through it into me. I could tell he was very aroused. But my pussy hurt from the deflowering, and I had just been forced to orgasm by the spell, so I was not at all aroused. But I feigned arousal, gasping in apparent pleasure at his ministrations. He gently pulled me over to his bed and sat down with his legs apart. I came up between his legs and put my hands under his robe on his chest and kissed him. He put one hand on my ass and pulled me closer. I could feel his cock was very hard. I kneeled and put my mouth on his cock, sucking and tonguing it. He put his hand on the back of my head and urged me closer. With his help, I was able to get a lot of his cock in my mouth. Then I started gagging. He pulled his cock out of my mouth and scooted back and pulled me up on the bed. Then he laid down and pulled me farther, so I was on top of him. I reached back and directed his cock into my pussy. He slid in and gasped in pleasure. It hurt me a little, but not badly. Then he pushed in further and started going in and out. I laid there with my head on his chest listening to his heart going faster and faster as he fucked me. In only a few minutes, he started grunting, and finally, his muscles tensed, and he came inside me. He said, ?That was wonderful, Imoto.? ?Thank You,? I replied. We lay together for another 10 minutes. Then Isamu started caressing my ass again, and his cock hardened inside me. He suggested that I should bring my knees up, so I was sitting on him. Then he started fucking me again. Each time he hit my pubes, my breasts bounced, which he seemed to find arousing. Then he asked me what he could do to make me happy. I started to say I was happy. But a thought came to me. I said, ?Spank me, Isamu.? He looked at me strangely, but then spanked me gently. I said, ?Harder. Spank me harder.? He gave me a ringing slap on the ass that stung badly, and I came. God help me; I couldn?t control it. As I came, Isamu came too. After my orgasm died down, I put my chest down on Isamu and just laid there. A few minutes later, Isamu told me to get up and clean myself up again. I did that, and when I came out, he motioned me to wait for him, and then he went into the bathroom and relieved himself. When he came out of the bathroom, he asked, ?Does pain make you come?? I said, ?That plus any suggestion of sex. It?s weird I know. I can?t control it. I hate being hurt, but I will cum if I am hurt during any kind of lovemaking. Please don?t tell anyone. It?s very embarrassing.? He said, ?OK, I won?t.? Then he brought up the video camera and had me lay on my back and spread my legs. He came in for a close-up, that showed I was no longer a virgin. Then he turned the camera off and told me, ?Now go and lay with my father. I think he will wake up and need you again.? Mr. Hashimoto did wake up and need me again, and after that, Isamu needed me again. I thought I made them both happy, and I hoped that they would be happy enough to release the money they had promised. I wound up going to sleep in Isamu?s bed. He woke me at 5 and told me they needed to leave at 6, so I should get up. Between the soreness in my vagina and two men also needing the bathroom, I had a hard time getting to the bathroom, even to pee. So, I didn?t even try to clean up. I put on my clothing, including my tennis shoes, and I put everything else in my backpack. Then I said goodbye to Isamu, and he thanked me for giving him a good time. I blushed and said your welcome. Then I said goodbye to Mr. Hashimoto, and he said, ?Thank You, Blossom. My son and I greatly enjoyed being with you last night. And we appreciated your story and your dance as well as your service and love. I wish you the best in the future.? I asked him whether he would be releasing the money so I could be paid. He said, ?Yes, we would only have held that money if you had not been a virgin or if you had not been willing. But you were definitely a virgin, and you were very willing. You were a joy to be with. I have already released the money.? Then he said, ?Blossom, I hope you won?t mind some advice from a ?mature? man. But I think you should try something else. You have many talents. You are easy to get along with and very intelligent. You would be a success in many fields that are more accepted by other people. If you wanted to come to Japan, I would love to have you work for me, in a position that has nothing to do with sex. You would be excellent in sales, and in representing the company to the public. Unfortunately, I could not pay you what you can make here. But the personal and professional rewards would be much greater.? Then he gave me his card and an envelope. Hs said, ?That is a little extra just for you. Thank You, my dear. I hope to encounter you again.? I opened the envelope. It contained five one-hundred-dollar bills. I blushed and thanked him profusely. Then I stepped out into the hallway and retraced my steps down to the casino and out onto the street. Luckily, the sun was just pushing above the horizon. I did not have to worry about the dangers of walking in the dark. The strip is fairly safe all the time, but anything can happen to a single woman in a dark area off the strip away from other people. A few people who worked on the strip were already there and gave me knowing looks as I did my walk of shame back to the motel room. For once, Celia was in bed before me. I had intended to take a shower, but I was exhausted and just crawled into bed. But I couldn?t sleep. In most ways, the evening had been a success. I had made the two Japanese men very happy, and they had agreed to release the money for the auction. And they had even given me another $500. And I had liked the men. They were polite and considerate and went out of their way to make the process pleasant for me. So, I was happy. But I was a little sad too, and I couldn?t figure out why. I thought about it for a while. It wasn?t because I had lost my virginity. After all, Elvis wasn?t a virgin. He wasn?t extremely experienced, but he wasn?t a virgin. And even as a woman, Helen was not a virgin. She was only a virgin in appearance, as a result of a healing spell after being raped by monstrous enhanced witches. I mused about what would have made me happy. I played the possibilities I thought of through in my mind and noted my reaction. The thing that would have made me happiest would have been to give my apparent virginity to someone I cared for, and who cared for me, to share that special moment with someone I loved. I felt like crying because now that could never be. What the hell? What was I thinking? I wasn?t really a virgin, or a girl for that matter. What did it matter how I lost my apparent virginity. And why was I suddenly so sentimental. Elvis had never been that way. But now, suddenly, Helen was. Was this all part of the spell? Did it change my mind to that of a woman, as well as my body? I shook my head and resolved to quit dreaming about something that could never be. But that just made me feel sadder. I started crying, just a little at first, but becoming full-out sobs. I sobered up when Celia said, ?Shut up for Christ's sake, Helen. I?m trying to sleep.? 8. The Day After I woke up at 10 with the headache to end all headaches, even though I had only drunk two glasses of sake. Or had I sipped more through the evening? I didn?t remember. I needed some aspirin. But I had not gotten any in my trips to the store. I thought I remembered a bottle on Celia?s side of the bath counter, but she was still asleep, and I couldn?t ask if I could have some. Well, just laying here wasn?t helping. I got up and walked into the bathroom and did my business. I noticed a bottle of aspirin by Celia?s sink. But borrowing something without asking was a good way to make our strained relationship even more strained. So, I left it and got some clothes to wear, my last clean panties and bra and socks, and the shorts and blouse I had worn yesterday, and of course my pink tennis shoes. Thus, I managed to assemble an outfit that but feminine, as required by one of the spells, but also looked tasteless. I put on a shower cap, took a shower, and cleaned myself off outside and inside as well as I could. Then I dressed. After that, I tried to brush out the tangles in my hair. The sticks for the little girl haircut had survived the night, and I managed to make my hair look OK. I didn?t bother with makeup. I just needed to go out and get some aspirin and coffee, and maybe a roll for breakfast. I grabbed my purse, now containing $525 cash American, and started to walk out the door. But Celia was awake enough to notice, and said, ?Hey Helen, can you bring me back a coffee and roll.? I said ?OK? to keep the peace, although I wasn?t feeling particularly friendly to her right now. When the sun hit my face, my headache, which had receded a little, came back in full force. I started walking, but my vaginal area was very sore, so every step was painful, and I walked with a bit of a waddle to avoid irritation. Nevertheless, I walked as quickly as I could to the Smiths a few blocks away, found the aisle with aspirin, and bought a small bottle. They had a coffee shop. I bought a coffee and a croissant and added cream to the coffee and then was lucky enough to find a table empty. I sat down and quickly got out two aspirin and put them in my mouth and swallowed some coffee and sat with my head in my hands. Damn, I hurt. Two women walked by and asked me if anyone was sitting in the other three chairs. I looked up and tried to smile and managed to give what I hoped was a pleasant invitation to sit. They put their stuff in the chairs, got in the coffee line and came back with coffee and rolls a few moments later. They looked like sales staff at one of the stores in the same complex as Smiths. One looked to be in her 30s, and the other was younger, about Elvis?s age. The two women returned with their coffee, chatting happily away. I just sat there and held my head. One of the women said, ?Hi, my name?s Trudy, and this is Jesse.? I didn?t feel like talking, but Aunt Marge?s training in manners won out, and I said, ?I?m Helen. How are you guys today?? Trudy said, ?Pretty good. How about you?? I said, ?Honestly, I?ve had better mornings. I woke up with a headache that doesn?t seem to want to go away.? She said, ?Do you have headaches often, Helen?? I replied, ?No, not really. I guess I had one drink too many last night.? Trudy said, ?Excuse me if I?m out of line. But aren?t you a little young to be drinking, even in Las Vegas?? I looked at her with surprise. I?d almost forgotten I wasn?t Elvis, and that I was a very young-looking 19- year old girl. I said, ?I am 19. I know I don?t look it, but I?m 19. I?ve got ID, if you want to see it.? She said, ?You don?t look 19. Sure, I?d like to see your ID. But you know you don?t have to show it to me if you don?t want.? That clearly identified her as a police officer. Damn it. I showed her the ID Joyce had made for me. She took a picture of it with her phone and handed it back to me. I asked her, ?Are you on duty now? Why are you questioning me anyway? I haven?t done anything. I?m no threat to anybody.? I thought, ?Well, except for raping a woman when I was under the influence. But I haven?t been convicted of that. And I am serving another sort of sentence.? Then I saw her partner staring at my purse, which seemed abnormally heavy by the way it sat. Damn, I had forgotten to leave my revolver at home. I hesitated. They had no real reason to search me, so I could just tell them to fuck off. But, they could probably find a reason. Besides, Elvis had been brought up to respect the law. So, I said, ?Yes, I have a gun in my purse officer. I was out late last night and had it with me for protection. I forgot to put it in a safe place in my room this morning.? I slowly took my hand away from my purse, and Officer Jesse took it. Officer Trudy then said, ?Let?s go out to our car and take a look at the gun.? They searched my purse and took the weapon out. Trudy asked, ?Is it loaded?? I said, ?yes.? Trudy looked at it closely and noted the Arabic lettering? She asked, ?I?ve never seen one like it. Where did it come from?? I said, ?Afghanistan.? She asked, ?How did you come by it?? The spell would not let me tell the truth. After some stammering, I said: ?My brother gave it to me.? Then Trudy asked, ?Have you ever fired it?? I replied, ?Yes.? She asked, ?Where?? If I had still been Elvis, I?d have told of the time when I had used it to help defend my medic facility when a unit of Taliban threatened to overrun it. But the spell wouldn?t let me. Again, I lied and said, ?At a firing range.? Trudy sighed and thought, while Officer Jesse continued the search of my purse. After she was through, she said, ?No credit cards, Trudy. Look at this.? She showed Trudy the envelope with five $100 bills in it. Trudy said, ?You want to tell us where you got this?? I said, ?I got it legally if that?s what you?re asking?? She said, ?how?? I didn?t want to tell her I had gotten it as a tip from a john. So, I didn?t say anything. Finally, Trudy asked, ?Do you have a permit for concealed carry.? Elvis had had a permit from Texas, but not Helen, so I replied, ?No.? Trudy sighed and said, ?Look, Helen, I can give you a citation for having a weapon in your purse and not having a concealed carry permit. Then I can confiscate your weapon and test it to see if it?s been used in a crime. Even if not, it will be a long while before you see it again. And that?ll be true even if a judge quashes the citation. But I?d rather not do that. You told us about the weapon and handed it over voluntarily. That makes me think you have not done a crime and that you are basically level-headed. Plus, I hate to use someone?s voluntary cooperation against them. So, what I?d like to do is have you give me permission to hold the weapon for a few days and to get it tested. If it?s clean, I?ll return it to you myself. What do you say?? It was not my favorite idea, to be without the protection of a weapon for even a short time. But at least I would have a chance to get the weapon back soon. It had been clumsy of me to take it out in public. And it had been clumsy not to get a concealed carry permit last week. So, this was partly my fault. I said, ?OK, but I really do need it for protection. I want it back as soon as possible.? She nodded and wrote out a statement, ?I, Akira Helen Watson, give permission for Officer Trudy Hines to test my weapon to determine if it has been used in a crime. Officer Hines will return the weapon if it has not.? She said I should sign it and take a picture with my cell phone. After I did that, she put the gun in a large envelope with my name on it. She asked where I was staying locally. I said, ?AAA Motel. I don?t know the address.? She wrote AAA Motel on the envelope and said She would look me up in a few days. Then she said, ?Helen, I have a feeling you are involved in something you?re not able to handle. If you tell me what?s going on, I might be able to help.? Frankly, I didn?t see how she could help me. A series of witch?s spells had forced me into a lifestyle I didn?t want. Trudy could do nothing about that unless she was a witch herself, which I doubted. I just said, ?I?ll think about it.? After they drove off, I went back to the coffee shop. They had cleared my table, so I had lost most of the coffee and all of the croissant. Damn. Well, at least I had gotten some aspirin down, so my headache was easing. What should I do now? I could get some more coffee and rolls and go back to the room and give some to Celia. But I was still a little bit pissed at her. Maybe I could find an open clothing store and get a couple of more outfits. I had just about exhausted anything I liked in my size at the thrift shop. I went back into the Smiths and bought a coffee-flavored yogurt and asked the clerk if there was a big box store near here. She directed me to a shopping center about a mile away or Walmart. I decided to head to the shopping center after I found a place to eat the yogurt. It should have been a pleasant walk. The weather was delightful. But my crotch was still sore, and I wound up waddling a lot. I gave some thought to giving up but decided I really needed some more clothes. By the time I got to the shopping center, I was hurting quite a bit. The Macy?s was not crowded, and the sales staff had time to help me select a couple of outfits suitable for a nineteen-year-old girl. I let them believe I was attending Las Vegas University and needed some college-age clothing. By talking and asking questions, I learned more about women?s clothing in general and young women?s clothing in particular. In addition to the two outfits, I bought more underwear and a good pair of flats, so I had something attractive to wear walking to the strip. I was happy with the result, even though I spent over $200. By this time, it was past 2. It took half an hour to walk, or should I say waddle, back to the motel. Midway, I spotted a Subway and bought a footlong, intending to eat, half now and half later. I also got a coffee and a cookie for Celia. I got back to the motel at 3:30. I hoped Celia was awake, but when I got back, the room was still dark. The hell with it. I needed to sit down and relax. I knew Celia had gotten back to the room over 12 hours ago, so she had had enough sleep. I threw open the blinds and made myself a cup of tea. I thought about eating, but my crotch hurt like the devil, and I needed to sit on the couch for a few minutes. I turned on the TV and sat down and watched the news, and then a soccer game I found flipping through the channels. I ignored complaints from Celia. Finally, she got up and screamed at me. I told her, ?Look, Celia, maybe a life that consists of sleeping all day, going out and finding one or more guys to fuck, stuffing drugs in your nose or down your throat is good enough for you. But not for me. I need to connect to people, and I need a place to come home to and be able to do something more than sleep. I didn?t disturb you until 3:30 in the afternoon. Now, I want to look at the news and see what is going on in the world, and I want to be able to watch some sports or entertainment and relax. And that?s the way it is. Celia was furious. For a moment I thought she might attack me again, but considering what had happened the first night, she apparently thought better of it. Then she started crying. I wasn?t going to let her guilt me into backing off. I told her, ?Look, Celia, this routine isn?t good for you either. You, yourself, told me how afraid you would wind up a common streetwalker. Well, the way you are leading your life now leads directly to that fate. You need to find a way to get out of this life now, while you still have your beauty so that you can find a better life.? Celia looked at me and said, ?Look who?s talking, Helen. How about you? You recognize the drawbacks of this life. Maybe you should take your own advice and look for a way out while you are still young and can easily start over? Or you will wind up just like me.? That comment caused me to think. Maybe I was accepting being forced into prostitution by a witch?s spell too easily? Maybe I should look for a way out now? I had to consider that more. I said, ?Look, Celia, if it?s any consolation, I recognize how hard it would be for you to start a new life. But you do need to try to find a way. You can?t give up. And I agree that the same applies to me.? Celia calmed down and said, ?OK, but right now, I need to pee. And she went into the bathroom and didn?t reappear for a half hour. When she came out, she looked much better. She had put on some makeup and some nice clothes, and she was more animated and easier to talk to. I said I had gotten her some coffee and a roll. She said, ?They?ll keep. Let?s go out to dinner. I could use some company.? I agreed, except I was sore, and it was hard to walk. But I decided it was worth it. I told Celia, ?OK, but walk slow. I am very sore.? Celia asked, ?Sore, why?? I said, ?Until last night I was a virgin. Now I?m not.? Celia said, ?Oh. You had your date with the auction winner.? I said, ?Winners, there were two.? She looked at me with sympathy, and said, ?Right. I remember. I?d like to hear about it if you are willing.? I didn?t want to talk about it but didn?t see a way to avoid it without a fight. So, I sighed and replied, ?I?ll tell you at dinner.? I put my subway in the refrigerator for another meal. We walked to the Thai place again and took a table away from most of the others. While we were eating, I told Celia the story of the night before. She thought the dance was very clever and complimented me on using my Japanese heritage to relate to the men. When I finished that, I told her about my encounters with officers Trudy and Jesse. She didn?t feel all that sympathetic. Instead, she said, ?You mean you?ve had a gun in your possession the last week. My God. That scares the hell out of me. What if someone broke in and the two of you had a shootout. I?d be stuck in the middle.? I thought she was joking and laughed. But she wasn?t and got even more upset. I said I was sorry. To change the tone of the conversation, I asked about her life. I discovered she considered her parents cold and uncaring, although she respected her father, who was a cop. She got married right out of high school to get away. But her husband turned out to be abusive, not physically, but emotionally. She finally left him and, having no marketable skills, started turning tricks. But she found out that an escort would be paid much better and contacted AAA. She was a very pretty woman, and they had offered to sign her up. She had been an escort for almost 10 years and was very unhappy. She saw herself losing her youth and getting fewer of the lucrative dates. Also, she felt she had no friends and was very lonely. She said, ?That makes me feel like I need the drugs, which in turn makes me often act mean and self- centered, so I can?t have friends.? I felt more sympathetic to Celia after that, but I decided I wasn?t going to stop badgering her to do something about her problems. That was being a better friend than just accepting and thereby enabling self-destructive behaviors. I felt much better after dinner than I had all day. I guess I felt a human connection that day that I hadn?t had since I?d been arrested three months ago. I felt I had made a friend in Celia, someone who I could enjoy spending time with and with whom I could share my thoughts and worries. It turns out Celia did not have a date that night. Sunday nights were slow in the escort biz. And she didn?t think she had much of a chance of finding a date by cruising the casino floor. That was slow too. So, Celia just sat around with me, and we ate some popcorn and watched some TV and talked about this and that. It wasn?t exciting, but we both enjoyed it.