Grooming a Whore Ch. 07

Some relationships are like coal. They take a while to ignite and they burn with a warm, glowing fire that lasts and lasts. My relationship with Will is like brushwood. It catches alight immediately with the slightest of sparks and flares up into a bright consuming fire. I feel lucky to have had such a bright burning relationship but all too quickly it is gone and all that is left is ash.

I resent Will and contort my hands into fists with which to beat him when I think of what he has made me into, and yet I cannot do without him. I am scared of losing him too. I have lost confidence in my ability to make it without him. Besides I have become inured to my hands drifting over my skirt and raising the hem, of presenting myself to strangers. It has become second nature to me and when I meet a man for the first time my thoughts go immediately to wondering what his sexual tastes might be rather than just being curious and open to meet him.

Yet for all that, Will has the power to make me cum so powerfully. I am addicted to him in the rather unhealthy need to experience that sexual pleasure. I whore myself not just to keep Will but also because he rewards me when I tell him of my exploits. His brutal treatment of me is my fix and I cannot, will not, do without it. He walks in one day smiling and says,

"Today is my birthday."

I beam back at him, "You should have told me, I would have got you something."

"Well I have something for you instead, something that will take you further. You have been such a good and faithful learner I thought I would need to use this before now, but so far I have not needed to. I want to reward you, take you further. Are you ready to go further?"

I am scared, scared of myself, scared of how deep I am willing to be led down this road. A voice inside my head screams at me to turn back, and yet the escape from my world, the lure of how powerfully I will cum and all I have to do is follow. Each step I take makes it harder to resist the next one, as to do so would be to acknowledge what I have done. I have no idea what he has in mind, I know it will diminish me further and yet I am already dripping in anticipation. I can't speak, can't tell him this is what I want most of all. I couldn't bear to hear myself say it. All I can do is nod my head, consenting beforehand to whatever he has in mind.

My heart is thudding as he wipes my face with a cooling damp cloth. Even that, even the way he cools my skin as he heats me up, the way he tends to me leaves me panting for him whilst he scares me with where he might lead me. He pushes his weight off the bed and stands up.

"Take off your skirt and heels and kneel on all fours on the bed."

I jump up to do as I am told as quick as I can. As the skirt falls away he looks at my pussy.

"It's time you rid yourself of that hair. It's unsightly having that bush down there. Go and shave it off quickly, and I will bring you some hair removal cream tomorrow to rub over your mound and around your cunt from now on. It will sting a bit, but then you won't mind hurting a little for me will you? In a few weeks your hair will have completely died off, and it will stop growing. I want you to become completely bare down there, but until then each time your hairs grow back you will see they will be thinner. You will witness this gradual, but permanent change in your body. In the meantime you are to keep it clean and shaved every day so the punters can see what they are paying for."

Having received my instructions I head into the bathroom. I sit on the toilet and think about what he has just said. I have shaved down there before. Not completely, not like a whore, but for wearing a bikini on the beach in summer. I always leave a little tuft on my mound that will not show, but now it is all to go. I am a little nervous about nicking myself with the razor: all those folds and right down around my entrance, where it is so hard to see. I pick up a small mirror and angle it between my thighs. I think about what he said about the hair remover, how it will be permanent. And then I laugh at how stupid I am being. As if any of the other changes were less permanent. I take the razor from the shelf and lather up my thatch. The razor sweeps through the dark forest and leaves a swathe of naked flesh bright and pink.

On entering the room I feel even more naked having my cunt denuded and displayed in front of Will. It forces me to realise I am the merchandise and he the trader. He nods and smiles in approval as I stand with my hips thrust forward as he runs his finger over my mound. I hope he is not disappointed now my fleshy pussy lips are revealed.

"Good girl. Now you look the part. It is much better stripped bare like that." He slides his hand between my legs and his fingers sink into the soft folds that wait invitingly for him. He squeezes my lips alternately between his thumb and finger pulling them down and stretching them. My legs buckle, my knees part and slips his finger into my wet opening. I love the feel of him on my nakedness and I love the way he controls and owns my body.

"Now climb up on the bed."

Still nervous I mount the bed as directed and get on my hands and knees facing the wall. He swiftly wraps some cord around my wrists and pulls them tightly together so that they are bound with my wrists locked together. I look down at them passively as he knots the cord and then pulls it towards the head of the bed. My body slumps as my arms are drawn forward, and my ass rises up into the air behind me. He secures the end of the cord to the head of the bed so that I cannot turn my body. He is round behind me now and I can hear him pulling at something heavy. I feel the bed move as he places whatever it is behind me and then his hands are on my ankles. He pulls my leg across the bed in jerks as I shift my weight. Then I feel the cold hard snap of steel lock around my ankle. I try to twist round to see, but he is now pulling at my other leg and soon I feel the steel band around that ankle too.

My legs were splayed wide apart and I can't draw them together. I have no purchase with which to move and I hear Will walk around me. The silence is only interrupted by the thudding of the blood in my ears. My stomach flutters in fear. I am so exposed and have no idea what is in store for me, but I know I conceded to it beforehand. Something cold and limp trails across my back. I shudder involuntarily.

"I can feel your fear and yet you love this. I see the beads of sweat form as you wait, helpless, without knowing what is about to befall you." He comes and stands in front of me and I feel the limp thing trailing across my face. The smell of leather hits my nostrils, it's the smell of stables, of saddling horses. He pulls back and my eyes widen as I see he is holding a riding crop.

I lower my head and lie there waiting. I know what is coming. I hate that he is going to beat me and the thought of it catches my breath, makes my heart palpitate and as I steel my muscles in readiness I feel the first drops of my wetness ooze from me. I hear the swish in the air before the galvanising, electrifying, attention demanding blow forces all thought out of my brain. My eyes bulging I stare into the bedclothes and yelp. He lands the riding crop again and again on my upturned ass. Each blow is accompanied by a scream. My mind is being disciplined into getting past the last blow and preparing for the next. I float in this space. All that exists is my punishment and me. I would do anything to escape the torture, and yet I do not move. I pull on my bonds but cannot break free. Then suddenly he stops and his fingers are between my far flung thighs. He pulls and squeezes hard on my clit.

My body is thrown into confusion, pushed off balance. One minute I am experiencing searing pain and the next intense pleasure. He grabs me and demands of me. The pleasure is intense. Then just as quickly it is gone. I feel him shift his weight as the mattress moves and the pain rips through me once more. Disconcerted I feel the throb in my clit at the same time as he lands blow upon blow on my ass. My body is being overwhelmed. I cannot tell what to feel. It is like those times when your fingers are so cold and you put them in water that is too warm. Your fingers feel hot and cold at the same time. That is how I am feeling, running from the pain and begging for the tingle of his fingers on my clit again. When it all seems it will be too much, he stops and pulls at my clit some more. I buck and beg him to make me cum. He continues to rub and pull on my clit until he can sense I am about to explode with the pent up pleasure. Then he becomes merciless. My body is trying to cum as the pain floods through me. I am kept perpetually writhing between pain and pleasure.

When he fills me with pain I try to escape by making myself cum, I try desperately to keep in my mind the feel of his fingers upon my craving as I his blows land on my red raw flesh. I feel so pathetic wanting to cum while he is punishing me. I tell myself I need the pain because only then can I get the pleasure too. I need the pain because I am a filthy whore. I need the pain because it is from Will and I have given him the right to inflict this on me. Somehow it just feels right, and maybe by accepting it I will become worthy enough to make him stay. The endless cycle of being pleasured and receiving his pain continues. I never thought I would be able to take so much, and yet I realise with a jolt after some time that I don't want it to end. I need his pain because through it he gives me pleasure.

"Are you enjoying being whipped?"

He is always one step ahead of me. He knows exactly the thoughts running through my mind. My sobs turn into panting. "Yes... yesss... don't stop. I need it. I need you to punish me."

"Then beg me to go on punishing you. Let me hear you admit you need me to punish you."

"I do... I do..." My voice trails away as the truth settles like a smog in my mind.

"I need it. Beat me. Beat your whore. Your whore deserves to be punished!" I am screaming. It is true, he had taken me to another level. I knew I hated the punishment, the beating and yet I still didn't want it to stop. The old me would find this unfathomable, and yet this is who I have become.

Finally he brings the lesson to an end. I am still panting long after he has stopped and is uncoupling my legs from the bar that has been forcing them wide. I can still feel the throb in my ass cheeks from his punishment. I figure they must be bright scarlet they are so hot. He unties me and tells me to lie on my back. The rough bedding against my raw skin forces a cry from my mouth and yet still I comply. Will drops my dildo on the bed next to me. I pick it up and slide it effortlessly into my sopping cunt. Soon I will be cumming, I am already so close.

"Straighten your back and push your tits out for me."

In a daze, not thinking about Will, I do as I am told. Then suddenly the pain shoots across my tits. I recoil.

"No. Keep them pushed out."

I do as I am told, even knowing he will hit them again. There is only one escape and I push the dildo in deep and try to make myself cum. As the pleasure mounts he strikes and I have to force myself to push my tits out again for him. This simple act of yielding to his demands, knowing he is going to punish me by way of reward, and yet voluntarily presenting myself for his crop suddenly shifts something deep inside me. I do not deserve any better treatment. He is right to hit me, it makes me hot. Beating me with that crop makes me wet, makes me cum. I am a whore. It's the same word, but has a deeper meaning for me now. I don't choose to be a whore, I am a whore. I deserve to be beaten by this man as I long for it, I desire it.

I love the authority Will exerts over me. I love the way he forces me to accept more and more. He is moulding me, shaping me into the creature of his desires. He is transforming me, reinventing me with his crop. When I cum, he lands two hefty blows on my tits. The pain shoots through me mingled with heightened pleasure. My body heaves and shakes, so much pent up feeling wracking through it. I collapse on the bed and convulse for several seconds.

Will disappears into the bathroom and comes back and sits on the bed next to me. He produces some cool ointment that he gently rubs into my poor cheeks and breasts. All the time he keeps telling me,

"You are such a good girl. You learned a hard lesson today about who you are. I am proud of how you mastered your lesson." He is speaking but his words don't seem to mean anything. I can't take them in, only that he is being kind to me.

His fingers, still covered in the soothing cream, soon find their way into my pussy and he finger fucks me until I cum once again. I just can't believe that after all that I have the capacity still to cum for him. It leaves me feeling so utterly cheap. I lie in his arms panting and calming myself from my orgasm, Will soothing my irritated flesh with small circles of his fingers bathing them in the cream.

"I haven't seen you cum this hard before. You are warming to this aren't you? You understand how you need this now don't you? You recognise it too."

His voice is gentle, and his lips brush the sweetest, gentlest of kisses over my hot and sweaty face. I am too out of it to respond, but my heart beats so fast with him so near me.

"Your skin hurts and yet you are glad you suffered for me. Tell me you are glad to suffer for me."

I look up at this man who controls me so completely. He understands perfectly that I would endure anything for him.

"I am glad to suffer for you." I mean it too, from the bottom of my heart. I am so glad he has made me go through it, that he has shown me no mercy and handed me pleasure through his domination over me. I feel drained, and while I still hurt, the pain reminds me of how I belong to him.

"Let's go down to the pub. I want to celebrate my birthday."

He goes over to my wardrobe and takes out a thin grey cotton dress. As with all my clothes now it is short and stops just a few inches below my crotch. He throws it onto the bed.

"Put this on."

"It's too thin and transparent. I will need something to go underneath." I smile at his lack of awareness of what a girl needs when dressing herself.

He turns irritated. "I didn't give you something for underneath. I told you to put this on. Now get yourself ready."

I am shocked by his abrupt tone. I sway nervously between his tenderness and his anger. I slip the dress over my naked body. It is so thin that as I stand before the mirror to see how I look I can see clearly my naked pussy, that it is clean shaven, the dark line if my slit darker than the shadows. I slip some heels on and follow Will out the door. I feel so ashamed wandering the streets on display like this, but I know this is what Will wants. The cold air blows straight through the fabric, and I can feel its chilly touch on the moisture coating my lips. My tits are cold too and I feel my nipples hardening while the touch of the fabric on their sensitive points inflames me.

We are in a district full of whores, and I know that anyone seeing me will understand exactly what I am. I fit right in. Maybe that's what Will wants me to understand. He is telling me all these thoughts of collecting money and buying myself a place in a better area they are just whore dreams. This is me now, this is what I am and this is where I belong.

We sit at a table in the pub. Will tells me not to cross my legs and the ironwork under the table leaves no place to hide myself. He makes sure I am seated opposite the entrance to the pub, so that everyone as they walk in will see me, their eyes drawn to my nakedness, see the fresh marks still red on my thighs. He is putting me on display and I can see from the guys as they come in that they want me. To my abject shame I am getting turned on by being made to sit there with my gin and tonic and let the neighbourhood ogle me. I don't make any attempt to bring my legs together but love the way their eyes travel up my thighs into that dark triangle and wonder if I have any panties on.

Will is surrounded by a group of guys all loud and back slapping. I feel neglected as I sit behind him while he chats with his mates. One of them leans in to Will and whispers to him. He nods his head in my direction. They are talking some time and then Will comes back over to me.

"Eric here wants to fuck you. He's a mate so it's on the house."

That was it. That was all he said. I know he expects me to get up and take Eric back to my flat. I know he expects me to let Eric fuck me and then return to the pub. Yet he has no need to spell any of this out to me. I know. I feel sick, dirty, a slut as I stand up and walk over to Eric. I take his hand. I am in a kind of daze. I find this place where I go with the punters. Somewhere where I don't need to acknowledge to myself what I am doing. Somewhere where I don't feel it, I don't cum, I don't get aroused. It's just business.

Eric and I walk back to my flat. His hand is under my dress, on my butt even as we walk through the street. He doesn't show any reticence or concern that I may object to his very public and possessive handling of my body. He is not even paying me for it, it's on the house. We move in a kind of swagger as he leans into me and I have to fend him off. I worry that at any moment he will just press me up against a wall and fuck me. He is, of course, drunk, but then I am just the whore.

When I get back to the pub Will is chatting with a group of guys. I go over to him, for protection mainly. I don't feel safe in this environment. The guys can all see I am a whore and they all know I have just serviced one of them, and they have been drinking so their inhibitions are down. Will turns and smiles. He puts his arm around my waist and buys the guys some more drinks. He is celebrating, and he is my protector. The guys are careful around him not to be too rude about me. I know what they are thinking though, I can see it in their hungry eyes as they furtively snatch a glance at me. Before long one taps Will on the shoulder and his head tilts towards me. Neither of them say anything but Will turns to me.

"Can you help Simon out?" I pout and take Simon's hand. I understand this is to be a working evening for me. I resent that I am not part of the celebration. I am not even getting paid. Will just loans me out, being generous to his mates and I hate it. One by one I take each of the guys back to my flat during the course of the evening. Some return to the pub with me afterwards, others go off someplace else. As the evening wears on the guys become drunker and the sex doesn't last so long. The last few just need blowing as they are too wasted to be able to fuck. Will walks me back to the flat and leaves me at the front door. He is happy and drunk and oblivious to how used I am feeling. I should tell him something, show him I am angry, but I don't dare. I am afraid he will tie me and beat me again. I know this is what he expects from me now and what I say won't change anything for the better.

I climb the stairs feeling exhausted, my pussy throbbing from all the sex. I cry as I lie in bed thinking of all those guys who have used me in that bed that evening. I sleep naked, and the damp patches from the sex seep into me but I don't bother. I have opened my legs to each of Will's mates, but the one person I want to feel between them has left me on the doorstep. I have never felt more certain that Will owns me now. He has shown his friends his freshly beaten whore. They had all fucked me, and no one asked me. They just asked Will and he loaned me out to them.

The next morning he arrives first thing and marches me straight into the bedroom where he tells me to take off my blouse and bra and to kneel down. I am trembling as he holds the riding crop against my breast, afraid of the pain. I take out his cock and start massaging it.