Perfect Little Slut

I finished applying the fire-engine red lipstick and beheld the image of my face in the mirror of the hotel bathroom. I was unrecognizable. I was fucking hot.

My hazel eyes sparkled behind thick mascara, black eyeliner, and deep blue eyeshadow. Rouge accentuated my narrow cheekbones. The rest of my freshly shaven skin positively glowed beneath a thin layer of foundation. A chin-length wig of straight, blonde hair, clipped firmly but discreetly in place at various points around my scalp, was indistinguishable from the real thing.

The woman standing behind me, Anna — my friend, I supposed, though we hadn't established precisely that sort of relationship ... she'd seemed more like a coach — looked on in approval.

"Delicious," she said. "Just one final piece, darling, to complete the ensemble." She reached over my head and lowered a gold chain to the base of my neck, then drew her hands around back and fastened it behind me. On the chain was a pendant that said, "SLUT." The latch clicked shut, and she secured it with a tiny padlock.

"There we are," she pronounced, satisfied. "Turn around and face me." I pivoted away from the mirror, and Anna took my hands in hers and studied me from top to bottom. I wore a red satin bustier crop top that form-fitted the padded bra beneath and ended just above my navel. My toned midriff was exposed above a scandalous, black nylon miniskirt that hugged my ass and the tops of my thighs obscenely.

Black garters held fishnet stockings in place, and my feet were confined to patent-leather stiletto heels. My legs and bare genitals underneath the skirt still tingled with the after-effects of the depilatory cream she'd used in removing all of my body hair.

"I think we're about ready," she said, and walked out of the bathroom. I followed her silently, stepping carefully to avoid tripping on the carpet in the awkward footwear. My preparation had taken nearly two hours.

Anna reached into her oversized purse and removed a large box of condoms and a 16-ounce bottle of lubricant. She placed them both on the nightstand next to the king-sized bed. Then she moved around the room, gathering up all of my belongings — the clothes I'd arrived in, my wallet, keys and phone — and packed them away neatly in my roll-away luggage. She zipped it up, placed it on the ground, wheels down, and extended the pull-handle. She swiped the hotel room key cards off of the dresser, deposited them in her bag, and turned to face me.

"Your first visitor should be arriving shortly," she intoned matter-of-factly. "Remember, you'll stay here, in this room, and service everyone who comes through that door. The limits we discussed will be respected, but apart from those discrete boundaries you will deny our guests nothing, like the perfect little slut I know you can be. Hmm?" I swallowed hard and remained silent. Her own phone chirped. She checked it, tapped something into the keyboard, and put it away again.

"When your encounters have concluded, I'll return with your things," she continued. "Do you have any questions before I go," she asked. I had several. Among them: How long would I be up here? How many "encounters" did she have planned for me? Did she know the men that would be coming to see me?

I asked none of them, shook my head and remained silent.

"Good girl," she said and winked at me. "Until later then. Enjoy this, darling, you've worked so hard for it." Without another word she hefted her bag, turned and strode to the door, opened it and left the room, dragging my rollaway behind her. The door slammed shut. I stood in silence.

After a long moment, I felt stupid standing in the middle of the room; I padded over and sat down in the office-style chair next the room's small desk, crossed my legs like a lady, and waited. As I did, I began to think about how acutely vulnerable I was.

Every physical vestige of my identity had just been taken away. I was alone, dressed like a woman — like a whore. At any moment I'd receive a visitor who would be expecting to put his cock inside me. And then another. And then who knows how many more after that. The thought was delicious, and I started to feel myself harden between my crossed thighs.

And then I experienced a moment of crystal clarity about what an insanely bad position I'd put myself in. Dressing up occasionally in the privacy of my home had been harmless enough. Same with the online message boards for other CDs and admirers. And then I'd connected with a woman — Anna — who'd wanted to help me develop my feminine persona. We'd chatted online and later begun to meet at her place, and she'd patiently, lovingly shown me things: How to dress, how to put on makeup, how to act ... and other things, too. It was all a delicious, secret little fantasy world.

She had nurtured me, encouraged me. And then one day recently she'd told me I was ready to fulfill my promise as a woman — as a "perfect little slut," she'd said. I'd been overjoyed by her approval. And I had fantasized so many times about dressing up and sucking and being fucked by big, hard cocks. What an amazing opportunity for my dream to come true, I'd thought. She promised me a night of adventure, entertaining a series of CD-friendly gentlemen she knew.

She made the arrangements, and I'd simply had to show up at the appointed place and time. And now my delicious fantasy was about to become all too real. Real men were going to come into this very room and use me. Fuck me. Maybe hurt me? That was a new but persistent thought, inspired, I supposed, by the stark reality of my situation. So much could go wrong. I had virtually no control over what would happen next. Hell, I didn't even really know Anna — for all the time I'd spent under her tutelage, I didn't even ... was that even her real name?

I panicked. I wasn't ready for this after all, I decided. And I had no good reason to place as much trust in her as I had. I needed to get out of there. But Anna had my things — where had she gone? Did I dare go down to the lobby dressed this this and look for her? Could I throw away her efforts after all she'd done for me? God, I didn't even have panties —

— A soft knock at the door. I froze. Oh shit, it was too late. My heart was racing. What if I just didn't answer? Or what if I answered the door, apologized and said I'd fallen ill. No, that was no good. Whoever it was would tell Anna. And she'd be angry. If she wanted to, she could punish me for having wasting her time. She could punish me god knows how. She knew all she needed to know about me — and she had my wallet, phone, keys, clothes — oh fuck. Oh fuck. How could I have been so stupid. I tried to catch my breath. My hands were trembling.

The knock came again, slightly louder. I was backed into a corner. It was my own fault. There was only one thing to do.

I quietly approached the door and peered through the peephole. Outside, an older man stood, impatiently looking one way and then the other down the hall. Furtive. Nervous. I swallowed, steeled myself, and opened the door. He looked up at me in surprise — he was probably only about 5'8, and I was both taller than that and wearing spiked heels — I smiled at him that way I'd been taught. Sweetly but seductively.

"Hi there," I said, my voice breathy and pitched higher than normal. "Want to come in?" The man nodded, didn't say a word. I opened the door wider and gestured him inside. He shuffled hurriedly into the room and his body seemed to relax only fractionally once I closed the door.

My heart was racing. I didn't know how this was supposed to go, but the man seemed too uncomfortable to take the initiative either. He was well into his 50s at least, maybe even early 60s. He was balding and unassuming and rumpled — not exactly what I'd fantasized about when I'd imagined being with a man for the first time. But I was in no position to be choosy.

"Do you want to have a seat," I offered, unsure what else to say. The man looked around the room quickly and then walked over to the desk chair. He sat down and put his hands on his lap, clasped together tightly. He stole a guilty glance at me and then locked his eyes on the floor. I'd have offered him a drink if Anna had left anything with me, but she hadn't.

"I'm Lexi," I said, giving my chosen name and trying to sound friendly and welcoming. Inside I was drowning in uncertainty and dread. He looked back up at me.

"Alan," he said in low voice. And nothing more. He sure wasn't making this easy. Was he a friend of Anna's? One of her online chat acquaintances? Was he testing me for her?

"It's nice to meet you Alan," I said, and slowly walked across the room toward him, trying to seem confident and seductive. I was getting the sense that he wasn't up for small talk, and if he knew Anna she was going to find out whether I had followed my instructions and been a "good little slut." So I figured the only thing to do was to try and move things along.

"How about I help you relax a little," I offered as I came to a stop in front of him. "Would that be okay?" He nodded. I gave him a warm smile and sank to my knees in front of him, resting my hands lightly on his thighs. Butterflies swarmed in my stomach. I'm pretty sure I managed to keep my expression from betraying the mixture of anxiety and revulsion that was coursing through me.

I lightly pushed his knees apart and dragged my French-manicured fingernails up along the tops of his thighs. I heard him inhale deeply. I was really about to do this. I was going to provide sexual services to an anonymous stranger. Like a cheap slut. I felt a slight thrill, but it was no match for my trepidation.

I ran one hand lightly over the modest bulge between his legs and felt him tense. Then I unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned the top of his khakis and slid the zipper down, revealing a pair of light blue boxer shorts. I reached into the fly, took his cock in my hand and carefully lifted it out.

I peeked up at him to make sure I hadn't misread the situation — as though in some bizarre set of accidental circumstances he could have just been stopping by fix the thermostat. His eyes were on my hand on his cock. He wasn't objecting. So I was going to go through with this then. My heart pounded.

It was the first time I'd touched a man's penis. It was flaccid and modest in size. Wisps of gray hair surrounded its base. I mustered the apparent enthusiasm to give him a game wink and then bowed forward, taking all of his softness in my mouth at once. I heard him gasp slightly. I held his penis there, in my mouth, reflecting momentarily on yet another first in my life. It tasted slightly acrid, but not foul. I sucked on him lightly and slid my tongue across the top of his cock head then slowly twirled it around the edges.

I felt him start to grow inside my mouth. I pulled my head up slowly, letting his shaft squirm out, as I maintained suction. When his head reached my lips, I bobbed down and pulled him back inside me. His cock continued to swell. I lifted my head again, and then when I lowered it once more he'd grown full enough that his head reached the back of my tongue. I held him there for a moment, tickling his shaft, my face buried in his crotch, and then back up, and then down. Slowly up and slowly down.

As I sucked his cock, I reached lightly into his boxers and delicately stroked his balls with my acrylic fingertips. His shaft was completely rigid now, and his hands were gripping the arms of the chair. I glanced up at him; his eyes were closed tight in concentration. I rubbed his thigh with my other hand and continued to work on him with my mouth, up and down, up and down.

After I'd gotten into a rhythm and increased the pace a bit, I wondered if I should pause and offer to let him fuck me. Maybe he wanted to but was too shy to say anything. I didn't relish the thought, but I also didn't want him to leave disappointed and give Anna a negative report. No, he seemed to be enjoying this. Best to keep on doing what I was doing.

I dragged my tongue along the underside of his shaft as I pulled my mouth back. Squeezed his thigh. Tickled his scrotum. I moaned suggestively as I took him all the way back inside. A little bit faster now, all the way down, my nose in his boxers, and all the way back up, tongue swirling around his head. And down and up, and down and — he clenched suddenly and grunted.

I felt, then tasted, warm, salty liquid spurt into my mouth. Oh my. His cock twitched, then twitched again. A little more liquid. A little more. I stopped bobbing and held my head perfectly still as he grunted again and his body tensed and then relaxed. I closed my eyes and swallowed his cum, held him there, letting his orgasm run its course. Finally I heard him take a deep breath and exhale.

I dragged my lips up off of his cock, which was already beginning to deflate. I licked my excess saliva from his shaft and glanced up at him. He was looking back down at me now, his eye lids tired.

"Thanks," he said between breaths.

"My pleasure, baby," I cooed back. He reached down and stuffed his cock back into his boxers, and, in a well-practiced series of maneuvers, zipped and buttoned his pants and buckled his belt. I leaned back on my haunches, putting a bit of space between us. I guessed, correctly, that was it for him.

He stood up, his legs looking a little unsteady. He made sure his shirt was properly tucked and ambled to the door. He paused then and turned back to me. It looked like he was struggling to find an appropriate thing to say. He gave up.

"Thanks," he finally said again, and left. I looked at the clock. The whole thing had lasted five minutes.

I got to my feet and swallowed hard, trying to flush the last remnants of his semen down into my belly. My mouth was still thick with the taste of it, so I went into the bathroom and drank a glass of tap water. I caught my reflection in the mirror. My lipstick was slightly smeared and smudged with spit and cum. I wiped it off and applied a fresh coat.

I left the bathroom, and returned to my seat. I supposed that had been a relatively benign beginning to this ordeal. I wondered what was yet to come. It probably wasn't going to get easier. And how long would I have to wait for the next one? Had Anna scheduled them in thirty-minute increments? Were they all lined up and waiting to go one right after another? The knock on the door could come at any moment, so I had to stay ready.

As minutes ticked off the clock I started to think about what would really be like to get fucked. Anna had encouraged me to insert toys into myself to get familiar with the sensation, but they had been sensible, smooth plastic things, designed for stimulation, not simulation. I hadn't attempted to take anything like the size or shape of a real man's cock. I was sure men were going to fuck me tonight — I just hoped none of them were too big.

I'd started to think I would have to wait a long time, given how quick the initial visit had been, but the knock on the door came just a few minutes later as I was concentrating on the problem of what to do if any of the men were too big to fit in my ass. I hadn't formulated a solution yet, but I couldn't do anything about it just then.

I looked through the peephole, and the man outside seemed to be staring right back at me, grinning. These things weren't two-way, were they? Could he really see me? I dismissed the thought and opened the door. This man was completely different from the last. A bit older than I was, sure, but tall and solidly built, with a full head of wavy brown hair, and dark features anchoring weathered, ruddy good looks. He wore a broad, confident smile as we faced each other. Like a charming rogue.

"Hello, beautiful," he greeted me, still smiling, with an accent I couldn't immediately place. He extended his hand. I took it, and he raised my hand to his lips, giving it a gentle kiss. That was unexpected. Was he trying to court me? Was he mocking me? "May I come in," he asked politely in a gravelly voice. I realized I'd simply been staring dumbly.

"Y-yes, of course," I stammered and welcomed him in. He strode into the center of the room and turned to face me; I closed the door and approached him slowly, with anticipation.

"My goodness, you a fine-looking creature," the man said, his eyes raking across my body. "Turn around for me, baby. Show me that body of yours." I turned in a slow circle, sashaying my hips slightly, and came to a stop when I was facing him again. "I think you maybe the hottest girl I ever meet," he said approvingly. I felt a little jolt of pleasure.

"Thank you," I said demurely, shyly meeting his gaze.

"One more time," he said, twirling his finger. I complied. But when I was halfway through my turn, facing away from him, I felt his hands on my hips. I let them stop me. He stepped in close to me, his body leaning against me. I could smell aftershave — something woodsy. I felt his groin pressing against my ass, his chest on my back. His hands slid up to my waist, and he kissed the side of my neck. Sucked on it, but not too hard. His hands continued to roam, caressing my bare belly and up over my chest.

"Oh we gonna have some fun, gorgeous," he breathed into my ear. I shuddered. "Why don't you climb up on the bed," he suggested softly as he drew back from me. I gave a quick, silent nod and crawled carefully up onto the sheets, mindful of my stockings and heels. I prowled to the center on all fours and looked back to see the man finish pulling his shirt over his head and start on his pants.

He was muscular but not chiseled. Just ... manly. And when his pants came off, I saw an amply sized cock already almost fully erect. I supposed he really did like what he saw. I felt a little bit of pride sheathed in shame. And anxiety about what was about to happen. He climbed up next to me on the bed and lay flat, his head on the pillows.

"You wanna suck on my cock, pretty lady," he asked. I nodded, giving him a shy smile, and crawled over between his legs. I took his shaft in my hand and lowered my mouth over his cock head, feeling momentarily grateful for Anna's lessons. I sucked on his knob and briefly teased it with my tongue before plunging down and driving his tool all the way into my throat. I don't think he'd been expecting that.

"Oh, SHIT, baby. Yeah," he moaned. His cock was just a little bigger than some of the toys Anna had taught me with, and I managed to take it all without gagging too much. I held him there in my throat for a long second or two, letting my reflex relax, and then pulled up, feeling his glans slide along the inside of my neck and return to my mouth. And then I went all the way down on him again, more slowly this time, deliberately, teasing his shaft with my tongue, lips encircling his base. And then slowly back up again.

My hands were planted on either side of his thighs, my knees together between his, my ass jutting up in the air, as I swallowed him, slow, and deep. Up and down. Every few strokes I allowed myself a brief pause take a breath. He didn't seem to mind. I kept the same slow, steady pace. Not in a hurry. He reached down with one hand and brushed my blonde hair back behind my ear so he could see me better.

"Yeah, baby, that feels real good," he growled. And in that moment I was living my fantasy. I was a hot little slut, and I was taking a man's cock in my throat, giving him pleasure. Tasting him. All the way down, all the way up. Slow and steady. Wet sucking sounds announcing what a whore I was.

I pulled my mouth off of him and lowered my head to lick his testicles, pulled them gently into my mouth, circled them with my tongue. I worked my way back up to his shaft and licked its length, then took him back into my mouth and all the way down, back into my hot throat. And all the way up. And again. And again. I was lost in my reverie, and I have no idea how long I'd been at it when he interrupted me with a gentle hand under my chin.