Perfect Little Slut

"Don't be silly," Anna answered dismissively. "Of course there will be a next time. And a next time and a next time." I was about to protest when she continued, matter-of-factly, "All the time I invested in you, training you, molding you into the perfect little slut. I'm not going to let that go to waste. Besides, I've already had several requests for repeat encounters from tonight's clients; one of them — Alejandro? — seemed particularly taken with you. And this business is all about repeat customers"

"But, Anna ..." She perked up at something.

"Oh, that reminds me," she said and paced over to the bed. She plucked something tiny from the top of the headboard and held it up to me. "Wireless camera," she announced. "Amazing how small they are these days. And the picture clarity — incredible." The implications started to sink in.

"Darling, I now have hours of footage memorializing your spectacular work here tonight to add to what I'd already collected during your sessions at my house." Oh god, no. I'd trusted her. I'd lain myself bare to her, and she'd betrayed me. I was beginning to panic.

"I didn't think you'd be gauche enough to make me spell it out for you," she went on, "but here you go: You will work for me, as a whore, for as long as I see fit to keep you in my stable.

"And should you fail to do so, your highlight reel will find its way to ... well, for starters, to all the contacts I downloaded from your phone." She smiled innocently. "You really should upgrade your security settings," she added as an aside. "And then there are all those websites — you frequent some of them — where video evidence of your skills together with your personal contact information should attract all sorts of interested parties."

"Please," I pleaded, almost at a whisper. "Please don't do this to me. Please don't ruin my life."

"Oh, tut tut, darling," she chided me with a mock pout. "We wouldn't be here if you weren't perfectly suited to this. I tuned in to the video feed a few times this evening. You really do seem to enjoy your work." I couldn't think of anything else to say. Something was shattered inside me.

"Eat something," she repeated, "and get some rest. I'll be in touch soon. You really were marvelous tonight." She turned toward the door, then stopped abruptly. "Oh, and I strongly recommend you remove what's left of your makeup before you fall asleep. It's murder on the pores." And at that, she turned and left.

A short while later I lay in the bed, my belly still empty —I couldn't bring myself to eat under the circumstances— and thought about all that had happened to me that night.

I thought about the ways I'd debased myself. I thought about the pain and the cruelty. I thought about having to do it all again. And again. And again. I thought about the fact that I'd managed to let myself get duped into becoming whore and no longer had any choice in the matter. I thought about all of the cocks that were going to defile me whether I liked it or not, about my new life as a perfect little slut. And I thought about all the ways I could be abused that hadn't even been inflicted on me yet.

Turns out I had one more orgasm in me after all.