The Perfect Whore Ch. 02

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Extra-marital affair goes awry.
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2

Part 2 of the 9 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 11/20/2007
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Thanks to all of you who commented on the first chapter of my novella. It certainly provoked strong reactions; you either loved it or hated it! Fortunately a majority of you expressed approval which encourages me to continue. Before introducing the second chapter I'd like to respond to some of the points raised.

As some of you have noticed my characterisation is a bit weak and things tend to move to a climax rather quickly. I think its called premature literary ejaculation! I'll try and do better in future. Yes I know its draft not draught, don't you just hate it that spell checker lets you down when you really need it most. But it's encouraging to know my text is being read critically and closely.

I should perhaps have made it clear that the first chapter described two sets of events separated by about twelve hours. The time shifts were indicated by lines of asterisks. If the appropriate paragraphs are shuffled around the two events can be separated but I felt it was more intriguing the way I wrote it. I may experiment with this technique again later in the novella.

Someone suggested that calling a woman a whore, even a perfect whore, is offensive; this was not my intention. In the context of my fantasy novella is was intended as high praise. As I mentioned, the story could equally well have been called the perfect wife or perhaps the perfect woman. Men have such high expectations of women, expecting them to combine the roles of mother, housekeeper, nurse, hostess, advisor, cook, lover and whore.

I consider that my choice of title was vindicated by the number of 'hits' my story received; far more than the combined total of my three previous submissions.

Why do some of you think Graham is a wimp? During Beverley's prolonged absence at a porn film shoot (chapter VI) followed by a stay at a Health Spa (chapter VIII) Graham has to satisfy his urgent sexual needs by hiring a university student who is moonlighting in the sex industry between lectures. (Chapter VII) Incidentally, I wrote this chapter before Belle de Jour was shown on TV!

In chapters II and III I have attempted to bring some humour into the story. The title Whipping Girl has a double meaning; someone to blame (as in whipping boy) and someone who becomes sexually aroused when chastised. For good measure there is also some cross dressing! Again I would greatly appreciate feedback.

Chapter II Whipping Girl

On mature reflection Beverley decided that dramatic irreversible gestures of independence would not help her cause. Instead she decided to adopt a softly-softly approach with regard to her future. Looking back on what had occurred she realised that the two men had exploited her to suit their own sexual needs. While she had enjoyed it, in future she wanted to be in control of her sexual destiny rather than the casual plaything of her husband and his best friend.

Beverley had a quiet word with Graham and asked him discourage John from making any further unannounced visits; she intended that any future encounters would be on her terms not his. Discretion being the better part of valour, she didn't inform her husband of John's second visit. She also resolved never again to let a man with a large cock bugger her; she was sore for a week after John's penetration! As a small gesture of independence she registered for a week-long Summer School later in the year at Oxford on the History of Art.

Life resumed its normal uneventful course; shopping, cooking, housework, coffee mornings, the Women's Institute, theatre trips and sex with Graham three times a week. She could put up with most of it but the sex was no longer satisfying her awakened desires and fantasies. One day, when feeling particularly frustrated, she even braved the secret masculine world of the Sex Shop in search of vaginal toys. It was clear that her presence had an unsettling effect on the men silently immersed in the pornographic cornucopia of books, DVDs, blow up dolls and devices for enlarging the penis. A real live woman was an unwanted distraction from the compliant smiling women displaying their charms in such abundant graphic detail in the magazines. Remembering the photographs that Graham liked to take of her she wondered vaguely how much she could earn posing for pornographic photographs or performing in porn films.

A few weeks later while shopping in town, she stopped off for a coffee in the shopping mall. Glancing in a mirror at the end of the room she noticed that a man was looking at her. He on the other hand did not realise he was being monitored. She crossed her legs and showed a couple more inches of thigh. Oh yes he definitely liked that! Then she did an absolutely absurd thing; she let her handbag accidentally fall on the floor and pretended not to notice. After a few moments he came over and picked it up. She smiled; he lingered; she asked him to sit down. He introduced himself and she responded with her maiden name; at least she would be unlikely to forget it!

He told her he was in town on business but found himself with a few hours on his hands. She offered to show him the less than considerable charms of the town centre while praying she wouldn't meet anyone she knew. They stopped off for a drink at a bistro. She asked for a large gin and tonic. He looked at her quizzically, trying to weigh her up; she knew he was going to proposition her. He asked what the hotels were like locally. Could she recommend anything? She showed him the way to the best hotel in the town centre then waited while he booked himself in. Inevitably, he asked if she would like to come up to his room. Her mind was racing; she wasn't really wearing the right sort of underwear for an encounter with a stranger in a hotel bedroom in the middle of the afternoon.

Should she make her excuses and leave, as the cliché has it? Should she dash into the ladies and take all her underwear off before going upstairs? No, that was definitely not a good idea; he would assume she was a prostitute. What about taking all her clothes off in the bathroom and coming out naked? No that was a little too bold and it would probably result in it all being over in five minutes. She wanted to be flattered, pampered and coaxed before she would let him fuck her.

She had an idea; she told him she had some urgent business to attend to but would come up to his room in about half an hour. As she scurried back through the shopping mall, she met Margaret Wilson, a leading light in the Women's Institute who insisted on telling her the less than exciting news about next months talk entitled Origami Through The Ages. She listening with rising impatience until finally Margaret asked her where she was going. She replied with a suitably vague response and wondered what Margaret's reaction would have been had she told her that she was off to buy some sexy lingerie in order to induce a total stranger to shag her!

Finally she got away and dashed into the Utterly Sinful lingerie boutique. It was all a ridiculous rip off; £40 or more for tiny wisps of nylon or silk which made no pretence of offering even the slightest regard to feminine modesty and was of no practical use whatsoever. Fifteen minutes later she had made her expensive selection of bra and minimalist knickers with matching suspender belt and stockings; and just to prolong the inevitable striptease, a delicate nylon slip. In all it came to £185; she would have to make sure that Graham didn't' get a sight of her credit card account next month.

Back at the hotel she tried to make an inconspicuous entrance; a rather difficult trick to pull off while she was carrying a lurid purple and yellow bag emblazoned with the logo of the Utterly Sinful lingerie boutique. She located the stranger's bedroom and knocked on the door; he let her in. He was already undressed and wearing a hotel bathrobe. There was a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket beside the large double bed. Things were starting to look up.

She excused herself and went into the bathroom and locked the door. After undressing and showering she took a careful look at herself in the full length mirror. Not bad at all for forty-five years of age; tits still firm and a sexy hour glass figure. She trimmed off some of her pubic hair and then began to put on her battle dress. Sexy lingerie was ridiculously expensive but there was no doubt that it was a tremendous boost to a woman's confidence, it made her feel powerful and in control.

He was still wearing his bathrobe when she came out of the bathroom but he complimented her on her appearance and admired her lingerie. Champagne was poured out. She sat on the bed sipping it, her head resting gently against the headboard. How nice, she thought, he isn't going to start franticly ripping my clothes off.

When he removed his bathrobe, Beverley was mortified to discover, he didn't have an erection. This was unprecedented in her entire adult lifetime. Even Graham, after twenty-three years of marriage, would have got an instant rock hard erection had he seen her so beautifully and provocatively dressed.

She offered him a glass of champagne but he declined

'Champagne is only for Goddesses', he said 'and I am a mere slave. I've been a very naughty slave thinking I could consort with such a beautiful goddess and I must to be punished severely for daring to look at your beautiful body.'

Beverley stared at him in bewilderment.

'Would you like me to play with your dick?' she enquired helpfully.

He shook his head and glanced frantically round the room before putting on his bathrobe again.

'Wait here', he instructed and abruptly left the room only to return a few moments later with a feather duster with a thick cane handle which he handed to Beverley. Once more he undressed and lay face down over the end of the bed.

Sadomasochism was not something which had previously featured in Beverley's sex life; she was quite an innocent really when it came to sexual perversions; she had never even pretended to fight off Graham's advances so that she could imagine he was raping her. Doubtfully she gripped the shaft of the feather duster in her right hand and drew it gently across her left hand. It was six or seven millimeters thick and had a flexible springy feel to it. Her weird companion turned his head and looked at her appealingly; he was clearly waiting to be beaten. Beverley was beginning to feel that things weren't' quite going the way she had expected. Rather tentatively she gave him a gentle tap across the buttocks.

'Harder', he urged, 'much harder.'

She tried again swinging the cane more vigorously.

'Harder, hit me harder' he insisted again.

Bitterly Beverley wondered if this was God's punishment for her adulterous behaviour. But why her? John and Graham didn't seem to attract divine retribution. Was it just women who were punished for bad behaviour whereas men were expected to behave badly? Angrily she lashed him hard and had the satisfaction of hearing him cry out in pain. An angry red weald had appeared on his buttocks together with a noticeable extension of his sexual organ. Again and again she lashed him which had the magical effect of pumping his cock up to a stiff seven inches. Exhausted by her efforts she cast the riding crop aside and watched as he turned over on his back and began to masturbate. Clearly she wasn't going to be the beneficiary of his new found potency. As he approached climax he abruptly dashed into the bathroom from where Beverley could hear him groaning with the pleasure of his orgasm.

Beverley lay back down on the bed and had a second glass of champagne, and then a third; she needed something to numb the awful nightmare that was unfolding. She debated whether she should leave then realised that she couldn't as all her clothes and her handbag were still in the bathroom.

After a few more minutes he returned from the bathroom and began to make abject apologies for his behaviour. The champagne was taking effect, emboldening Susan to take charge of the ridiculous charade. She told him that he had greatly offended her and must make immediate reparation. He nodded meekly.

She stood up and asked him kneel down in front of her and take her knickers off. He did as he was told, delicately and reverently but seemed to be more interested in her knickers than her vagina and showed absolutely no sign of an incipient erection.

She lay back down on the bed, opened her legs wide and instructed him to get his head down there and give her cunnilingus and not to stop until she told him to. He did as he was told and she was delighted to discover that he was very good at it, very good indeed; perhaps it was something Goddesses always insisted upon! For good measure she twined her legs around the back of his head. At last she was getting some pleasure from her rash adventure.

Whenever Gerald pleasured her with his tongue he liked her to regale him with an obscene monologue about her sexual fantasies and she was happy to indulge him. She felt no inclination to offer a similar service to the man who was now applying his tongue so effectively to her clitoris. She lay there mostly silent with occasional gentle gasps of pleasure as a succession of beautiful orgasms rippled through her vagina. Fully fifteen minutes elapsed before she released his head trapped between her legs. Now his face, nose and chin bore copious evidence of the full extent of her carnal arousal. Beverley passed him a paper tissue and watched as he mopped her sexual juices off his face.He remained still and thoughtful for some moments, gently touching her nylon slip. Since his mouth was no longer in close contact with her vagina he could speak once more.

'You'r lingerie really is delightful, where did you say you got it?'

Beverley retrieved her Utterly Sinful carrier bag from the bathroom and gave it to him.

'How much did you spend?'

Was he going to be a gentleman and pay for her ensemble or was he planning on buying some lingerie for a wife or girlfriend to assuage his guilt at being unfaithful? He looked at her quizzically.

'What are you, size fourteen?'

Rather impatiently she gave him her hips, waist and bust measurements and wondered if he was going to ask her to beat him again. Noticing her discarded knickers lying on the floor he picked them up and began to feel the texture of the material. He spoke again quietly and apologetically.

'The problem is I can only get an erection if someone beats me or…' he paused, looking speculatively at Beverley 'unless I'm wearing ladies' underwear. Could I possibly…'

He paused checked by the look of fury on Beverley's face; she had a sudden hideous vision of the stranger lying on top of her, decked out in all her finery, fucking her. This was too much; springing up from the bed she quickly stripped off her underwear and flung it at him.

'Here, take it you sick pervert; fuck off and leave me alone!' She fled naked into the bathroom and locked the door.

She felt soiled and used both mentally and physically. She decided to take a bath to try and assuage the feeling of shame and guilt but as she lay in the water she reflected that at least she hadn't't committed adultery, not according to Bill Clinton's definition anyway!

Twenty minutes later she emerged from the bathroom dressed and ready to go, the room was empty, he had gone; her discarded underwear still lay on the bed. She picked up her delicate nylon slip then hastily dropped it in disgust when she saw sticky evidence that he had used it to masturbate with.

As she walked out through reception the desk clerk called out loudly.

'Mrs Robinson'.

She continued to walk towards the door. The voice came again, louder this time.

'Mrs Robinson!'

The hall porter looked at Beverley and addressed her directly.

'Mrs Robinson, I think reception would like a word with you.'

Beverley flushed with embarrassment, realizing finally that the stranger must have registered as Mr Robinson. She returned to the desk under the watchful eyes of everyone in the foyer.

'Mrs Robinson as you know your husband had to leave early; he said you would settle the bill'

Beverley had a sick feeling in her stomach; so he was a con man as well as a pervert. She opened her handbag and instantly realised that he had stolen all her money, at least £150. She handed over her credit card then swiftly demanded it back but not before the sharp eyed desk clerk had noticed that it wasn't't in the name of Robinson. With an effort she focused her misting eyes on the account: £90 for the room, £45 for champagne. The clerk sarcastically told her that they didn't' charge for breakfast when customers were unable to stay overnight. He clearly thought she was a prostitute; she would just have to bluff it out. She went over to a cash machine and drew out £150 and then paid the bill. The clerk said 'thank you madam' but his eyes said 'you cheap brazen tart'. She was past caring and walked out of the hotel in a daze, still feeling the effects of the champagne.

She wandered aimlessly and confused in the shopping mall for some time and then sat down in a café and ordered a strong black coffee; something was needed to clear her head. She began to count the cost of her reckless adventure and soon realised that it amounted to nearly £500 pounds. A professional gigolo, she reflected, would have serviced her several times for that sum of money. She put her head in her hands and began to sob gently. A man spoke quietly into her ear.

'Can I help you my dear?'

Hastily she got to her feet and prepared to leave. She spoke to him quietly without looking up.

'Fuck off you sick pervert before I call the police.'

She felt the tears welling up in her eyes as she hurried away; thinking tearfully of the final scene from Gone With The Wind, when Scarlet O'Hara says 'Tomorrow is another day'. The Vicar of her local church stared after her in bemused amazement!

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8 Comments
26thNC26thNCover 3 years ago
Right

Author got the whore part correct.

AnonymousAnonymousover 3 years ago
characters

great story. Looking forward to the rest of the installments.

Only one jarring moment - when the character Graham became Gerald in one graph.

AnonymousAnonymousover 15 years ago
Need to check your names ...

... at one point Beverly becomes Susan. Other than that a good read. By the way guys, if you do not like the genre, read elsewhere - this is fiction, fantasy, not real life,

oldwinooldwinoabout 16 years ago
Origial Story

Can not understand the negative comments. Some nice twist on a common theme.

keep it going.

AnonymousAnonymousover 16 years ago
Sick women need doctors, in case a head doc.

This woman, has no morals, no class, no ethics, and no feeling of self respect. In other words, she is trash.

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