Dark Deeds for Love

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Becoming a whore to save her husband.
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C-Whyte
C-Whyte
6 Followers

"I'm home, honey," Carol announced as she stepped through the front door and pushed it closed with her foot. Her arms were taken up with her usual 'take-work-home-with-her' gear, a laptop, a case of files, and a pre-cooked dinner destined for the micro-wave. She set most of her load down on the hall table, took the dinner and headed towards the kitchen.

"Hank? Hank - are you here?" she called again, having had no response to her first greeting. "I hope you've eaten, I only got enough for me."

Silence.

Carol was getting a bit worried now, she checked the lounge and noticed a chair had been knocked over. Through to the kitchen where a tap was running. The back door was open.

"Hank?"

She looked through the adjoining door into the garage. His car was there. She checked the back yard, but found no sign of her husband. Puzzled, she went back in to the lounge and righted the chair. In doing so she spotted a red envelope on the floor, it was addressed to her.

Curious, she opened it. Inside was a note: 'If you ever want to see your husband again, you will follow these and all other instructions I give you. Go to your room, you will find further instructions there. Signed Happy Boy.'

Carol swallowed hard. She recognised the hand writing. She thought she had finally dealt with this sick bastard last year, but he had come back to torment her. Fearful of her husband's safety, she hurried through to the bedroom. Sure enough on the vanities table there was another red envelope. It was surrounded by an array of cheap cosmetics.

This note read: 'Make yourself up like the whore you are. Then have a cab take you to the public toilets on Wilmot Street. Signed Bidet Boy.'

There was nothing else she could do. Carol removed her delicate, fashionable make-up and started to apply the cheap cherry-pink lipstick. She penned in dark, thin eyebrows. Stuck on ridiculously long fake eyelashes. Pressed on fake pink nails. Brushed in the gold-glitter eye shadow.

It looked cheap, trashy. The contrast with her stylishly coifed hair and burgundy business suit made it worse. It didn't stop her from calling a taxi.

The toilets were easy to find, she passed them every day on the way to work. Telling the driver to wait for her, she hurried in to the women's side. There was nothing. Mentally she kicked herself, of course it wasn't going to be that easy.

Summoning up her courage, she went in to the men's side. Fortunately there was no-one visible although she could hear someone in one of the cubicles. A hurried search found the next envelope taped to the underside of the sink. She grabbed it and ran back to the taxi.

The driver accepted the delay as she opened the envelope.

'Take off your blouse immediately!' it said. "I may be watching you.'

Carol glanced around instinctively. There were any number of men on the street that could be her tormentor. She unbuttoned her blazer, aware the driver was waiting for directions and had her reflection in his mirror. His eyes widened as she took off her expensive silk blouse. He only got a few seconds to perve her C-cup breasts and plain cotton bra before she had her blazer on again. She stuffed her blouse into her handbag and read the rest of the note.

'Now go to the Hollywood Nights Salon. They have a wig waiting for you under the name of Prudence Dullinbed. Have it fitted. Signed Rug Boy.'

Carol didn't have a clue where that salon was, it certainly wasn't her regular one. The driver had to radio back to his control to get the address.

It wasn't in the worst part of town, but getting close. She didn't have the taxi wait this time since she didn't know how long it would take to have a wig fitted. Inside the salon she was assailed by the usual smells of peroxide and hair spray, but also of cheap perfume and cigarette smoke. A girl who couldn't have been more than eighteen was sitting laconically at the front desk.

"Hello," Carol said. "I'm here to be fitted for a wig."

"You Prudence?" the girl asked, looking at a battered ledger. The girl then giggled, "Prudence Dull-in-bed?"

Carol flushed. "Yes," she said as primly as she could manage. That just amused the girl more.

"Andrea," the girl shouted over her shoulder, not bothering to get up, "That prepaid wig for Prudence Dull-In-Bed is here."

The woman that came to the counter was older but no better dressed than the receptionist. She too was amused by the name.

"This way," she directed. Carol meekly followed.

Carol's stylish hair was slicked down against her scalp with gel, a two hour styling session with Mr Paul destroyed. The wig was platinum blond, shoulder length. A few women, with the right make-up, could look good in it. Carol looked like a stage act in a sleazy cabaret.

"This came with the payment," Andrea said, handing Carol a red envelope with 'Prudence Carol Dullinbed' written on it.

Carol waited until Andrea had wandered off to deal with another customer before she opened it.

'Remember your husband's continued health and well-being depends on following my instructions,' it began. 'Take off your pantyhose and give them to the first man you see. The next envelope is waiting for you in the bar across the street. It contains further instructions, and a memento from your husband to show that I am serious. Signed Thigh Boy.'

Carol borrowed the salon's toilet and peeled off her pantyhose in private. Coming out she found a male hairdresser and presented him with the pantyhose, hoping that he was gay and wouldn't take advantage of her. Either way, he was too surprised to do anything and she was away.

The bar was a dive, smoky, dirty and inhabited almost entirely by fat men in overalls. She ignored the lewd comments and strode up to the bar. She caught the attention of the only woman serving, a heavy-set creature with a crooked nose and tattoos covering her bare arms.

"Do you have a letter for me? A red envelope?" Carol asked, having to shout over the noise.

"Dunno," the woman shrugged. "I'll ask Karl."

Carol stared fixedly at the bottles on the wall, not daring to make eye contact with any of the clientele. It seemed to take forever but Karl arrived holding a red envelope. Carol reached out to take it, but he held it back.

"Sorry, luv. It came with instructions that you have to have a shot of bourbon before I give it to you. Drinks been paid for." He added that last bit as though it made it easier.

The 'shot' looked more like a treble, and Karl shook his head when she asked if she could have some soda or water with it. Steeling herself, she took the glass and sipped gingerly. It stung her mouth and cloyed at her throat. She didn't drink much but even she could tell this was cheap and rough.

Knowing she had to get it over with, she tipped the glass to her mouth and gulped it down in two swallows. It almost came straight back up again and Carol spent several minutes gasping and heaving over the bar top. Even when she got herself back under control she could taste the bitterness and feel the alcohol dulling her senses.

Snatching the letter from Karl's hand, she practically ran out of the bar and half a block down the street before she felt safe enough to open it.

It contained another slip of paper and a tangle of pubic hair. God, the sick bastard! Carol thought to herself as she read the note.

'As you can see, I have begun stream-lining your husband for a more interesting life. You had better hurry to the sex shop on the corner, before I cut off anything else. I want you to buy a bustier and matching fishnet stockings (I will let you choose the colour) to replace your current underwear. Signed Daydream Boy.'

Carol looked around, she couldn't see any sex shop nearby. Then it occurred to her that her tormentor might assume she would read this in the bar. She went back down and from outside the bar she could see the gaudy neon sign advertising 'adult' products.

The choice of colour turned out to be black or red, and as red stockings were too trashy to even consider, she opted for black. To her annoyance, this time the purchase hadn't been pre-paid and as she didn't have enough cash on her she had to use her credit card. She shuddered to think that 'Foxxy's Adult Shoppe' was going to appear on her next statement.

The greasy little shop keeper handed her a red envelope along with her card. She took it outside, all too aware of her new lingerie.

'You are to go back to the bar," the note read. "There you will find a man named Max and you will give him a blow job. If there is more than one Max, well, that's just makes it more fun. Remember, you have to do this if you want to see your husband again.'

Sick bastard! Sick bastard! Sick bastard! Carol repeated to herself as she returned to the bar. It was even more crowded, but at least there were some presentable guys there now. Figuring that she might as well hope for the best and work her way down, she went up to the cleanest looking guy there.

"Are you Max?"

"I could be if you want, honey," the man drawled, but Carol was already moving on. She didn't have the time or courage to muck around. The next three men gave her two lewd come-ons and a polite no. With only one vaguely presentable man left, Carol's hopes were sinking.

"Yeah, I'm Max. Strange guy told me that if I hung around this bar that I'd get lucky. That wouldn't be you, would it?"

He looked more intrigued than sleazy, which made it a bit easier for Carol. "Come with me," she said, doing her best not to be too obvious, "and we'll see how lucky you get."

"Hey, I'm not going out back to get rolled."

Carol frowned. She couldn't blame him for being paranoid but at the same time she didn't want to have to do this in front of all the bar patrons.

"The booth over there then," she said, pointing to a dark corner. Max shrugged and followed. There was no shortage of lewd remarks and envious catcalls but Carol was so intent on what she had to do that she tuned them out.

The guy was clean, that was a small mercy for Carol, and she had to admit that once she had got past the initial revulsion that it wasn't too bad. The guy had been discrete, muffling his pleasure as she sucked on his cock. She wasn't a complete novice, but it was more the guy's excitement than her skills that got him to come so quickly.

"Oh yeah," Max wheezed, "yeah. 'Kay, don't know what sort of kinky game you guys are playing, but you've earned the envelope."

Carol wiped her mouth with her handkerchief and took the envelope. She avoided looking at Max, or anyone else in the bar, as she hurried outside again. She hoped that last, disgusting act would satisfy the whims of her tormentor. It hadn't.

'A lot of instructions this time, my cock-sucking slut, so use that tuned legal mind of yours to get them right. First, I want you to find a prostitute. You're in the right part of town so it shouldn't be too hard. I want you to get her clothes (I'll leave the how to you) and I want you to change in to them. You are then to walk, and I mean walk, to the Hotel Magnolia. The manager has the last envelope - but he will expect to be paid $1000 - in cash. He won't accept anything but cash. Once again, it's up to you how you get it. Signed Total Boy.'

Carol screwed up the note and shoved it in her purse. Well, she had a short cut on the bastard, she had passed a money machine earlier and she hurried back there. Only, when she put her card in, it swallowed it. Carol stared in disbelief at the slot. The bastard had reported her card stolen - since she had last used it. That meant he was watching her. Shit!

Now what. Finding a hooker wasn't going to be hard, she could see one up the street. But her hopes of buying the working girl's clothes had just been eaten by the machine, let alone raising another thou.

Maybe the pro would do a swap. Carol hurried down towards her, well aware how dangerous this could be. The woman could be stoned, she could be violent, her pimp might be nearby.

None of these came to pass, the girl proved to be a few years younger than Carol and didn't look at all hostile as Carol approached.

"Hello," Carol began weakly, "I .. I'm on a scavenger hunt and I was, well, wondering if we could swap clothes."

"Really?" the dark skin girl giggled, "Oh thank gawd - I thought you were a cop for a moment."

"No, just a silly woman on a silly dare. I'm Carol, by the way."

"Jan. And I'm not really a hooker, well, not a full time one. I just do this once or twice week to make ends meet. I'm studying law, figure I'll get a good job and never have to do this again."

Carol smiled, her own legal career seemed a long way away at the moment. "I hate to be pushy but - swap? This suit is Chrystene B'yer, worth a fair bit."

"I dunno, it's nice but I'm not sure it's me .."

A car pulled up, the driver leaned out and without any pre-amble; "Threesome with some girl-on-girl to start? I'll pay five hundred, each."

Before Jan could explain that Carol wasn't actually on the game, Carol quickly hissed, "I'll do it." Jan looked at her in surprise, shrugged and turned to the guy in the car.

"'Kay hun, your lucky night."

Carol couldn't believe that she was getting in to a car with two strangers, that she was letting her self be driven to a seedy motel, that she was feeling .. aroused. Fortunately for her, Jan knew how to handle this, she sent the guy to have a shower and checked out the room.

"One time," Jan said as she checked the closet, "the guy had a couple of his mates hiding in the other room. They planned on having a party with me, but I was so out of there."

"So, you ever done it with a woman before?" Jan asked, having satisfied herself that there were no hidden surprises.

"A couple of times, a long time ago." Carol admitted.

"Yeah, I've only done it once. But five hundred bucks will get me through the rest of the week."

The man returned to the room, wearing only a towel. Carol took him to be in his late forties, a bit out of shape but not fat. He seemed to be the most experienced of the three of them for this, as he counted out two lots of five hundred dollars and put it down on the bedside table. He jumped on the bed and gestured that they should start.

Carol took Jan's hands and moved hesitantly closer to the girl. Their lips touched, barely a brush, yet Carol could already feel the warmth of arousal. They kissed a bit harder, still holding hands but with their bodies pressed together. It felt nice, soft and somehow not threatening. Her eyes glanced at the man. He was stroking himself through the towel, definitely enjoying the show and in no rush.

Jan though, was a bit more professional. Whether or not she was enjoying this, she knew it was a job and she wasn't being paid by the hour. She slipped her hands free from Carol and pulled off her cheap vinyl jacket, without breaking the kiss. A hand went to squeeze Carol's bum as the other undid the zip on her leather mini. It fell apart and dropped to leave Jan clad only in her briefs, push-up bra and high heels.

Carol slipped her hands into Jan's panties, squeezing the black girl's full ass. She had to let go briefly as Jan took to undressing her as well. The guy obviously didn't mind that Carol was being passive in all this, judging by how hard he was jerking himself. It took a bit more effort for Jan to unzip Carol's skirt, and then both women were rubbing against each other in their lingerie.

They kissed some more, Carol's hands had found their way to Jan's breasts, had unclipped the girl's bra so that she could get better access to the dark nipples.

"That's enough," Jan whispered to Carol. "Time for the main event."

Carol felt disappointed, but she followed Jan's lead as the girl turned her attention to the client. Jan slid on to the bed beside him and began to stroke his chest. Carol hesitated only a moment before taking up her station on the other side of the man. He put an arm around each of them and was certainly enjoying the feel of their soft bodies against his.

Jan moved as if to kiss him, and cheekily kissed Carol instead. She then kissed him properly and Carol followed suit. His hands were moving down their bodies, and Carol squirmed as she felt his finger on her anal bud. A bit further and he could feel the moistness of her slit.

A hand that had to be Jan's took hers and guided it down to the man's cock. The towel had come open and two hands wrapped around his shaft.

"Not so fast ladies," the man said, "I paid for pussy, not a hand job."

Jan smiled guiltily, which just reinforced Carol's opinion that the client was the most experienced of the three of them. Before Carol could think how she could handle this, Jan had crawled up on top of the guy and mounted him. He looked pleased as the black girl ground against him, and even happier when Carol, feeling guilty herself, propped herself up so she could suck on Jan's breasts.

Part-timer or not, Jan worked the guy like a pro and he came in remarkably short order. Of course, thinking about it, he was paying to get off, he had no obligation to their sexual satisfaction. It was a bit disappointing for Carol that it was over so quickly, but it suited Jan.

That was it. The guy showered again and left. Carol got to go next as Jan raided the mini-bar and then as Jan showered Carol had a desperately evil idea. Instead of her own clothes, she quickly dressed in Jan's jacket and skirt and ran for it.

Five hundred dollars. She was half way there and there was only one way she was going to make the remainder dressed like this. She began walking towards the hotel.

Sure enough, a car that had just passed her had stopped and was slowly reversing back. Carol made sure they were under a street light when they came level. She would at least get a look at the guy before she committed herself, not that it would help if he pulled a gun.

What she saw in the car was almost worse than a gun. It was her boss! He didn't seem to recognise her though, the wig and make-up more than most guys could see past. She considered running, he wasn't likely to chase her. But she still needed five hundred bucks and she could feel the minutes ticking by.

"Whaddaya want?" Carol put on the most nasal accent she could manage, hoping to kill any trace of her natural voice.

"Ahem, what services do you offer?" he asked. It was his court room voice, the one he used to sound formal, educated and detached. It was like he was establishing a contract for legal services rather than propositioning a hooker.

"Depends how much dough ya got."

Maybe, thought Carol, she could gouge him for the remaining five hundred. Two tricks and she would be done. That would show the sick bastard, he probably expected her to work her ass off all night to get it. Or .. she could blackmail her boss. She knew his home number, his wife's name, that would be enough to make him cough up.

"I have a hundred - which acts would you be willing to perform for that amount?"

Shit! It wasn't worth blackmailing him for only a hundred and it would be stupid to try to force him to get more cash. Okay, so she needed to do something quick and grab the cash so she could find the next trick.

"A blowjob then hon? I giz great head."

"It would have to be exceptional to garner a hundred, I am willing to pay no more than forty dollars for such a service .. unless .."

"Unless what .. big boy?" Carol's mouth was beginning to hurt from holding the silly voice, she wanted to get this over with but she wanted that full hundred bucks as well.

"If you would allow me to record the service?" he suggested, holding up a small vid-camera.

"Uh, yeah .. sure." It was a risk, but Carol figured that with the poor light she wouldn't be recognisable.

"Excellent." He held open the door and she slid in to the passenger seat. Once in and with the door closed, he handed her the money in a single note. Carol stuffed it in her handbag and prepared herself mentally as her boss did the same with his vid-camera. He had some velcro on the dashboard that allowed him to position that camera pointed at his lap, obviously he had done this before.

C-Whyte
C-Whyte
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