Talked into it
Paige nearly spits her tea out when she hears what her friends want her to do. They knew she needed money, but really. Offering to pay for, um, her services. Wasn’t that going too far?
I
Paige nearly spat out her tea.
Brenda faced her from across the coffee table, a cheap glass and luminium affair picked up from the gods only knew what kind of flea market her parents shifted through. A point of pride for them, she thought ruefully. Not for her, though. Still, until she made her own money.
I mean, it’s not like I haven’t tried. Besides, I haven’t done so badly. Her mind darted over the flurry of jobs she’d acquired and lost for that semester. Waitress. Cashier. Housecleaner. Hostess. That last one had lasted the longest, over a month in fact. She really liked it, and it was easy.
Sucked in the way of hours, but still. Tips offset that a little.
Still.
It’s not like her folks could help much with rent.
Her scholarship only covered tuition and fees.
Her apartment had been a godsend, but now she was going to lose it. Had lost it.
The realization sent a wave of nausea through her gut.
She’d been frantic that past couple of weeks. Okay, maybe not frantic. But diligent. Okay, maybe not diligent. A girl had to party, and something always turned up. But she tried. She did try. She applied to places. Online and in-person. Networking among the working girls, and nobody had anything.
Only it didn’t.
Application after application had been rejected.
A vast employer conspiracy keeping her from getting a job.
Her friends worried about her.
Which was sweet of them.
But since they all had money, came from money, the sympathy rang a little hollow.
But then they all came over this evening, Brenda with her fancy tea, Heather with her perfect makeup and hair, Olivia in her usual slutty outfit.
“I don’t understand,” Paige stammered. “You want me to what?”
“Drink your tea, dear,” Brenda said, no ordered. In that way of hers she had of speaking to Paige. “It’ll make you feel better.”
That part was true.
The tea did make her feel better, reducing nausea, that sickening feeling at losing her apartment, of getting evicted, of breaking her lease.
Paige took another sip.
“Go ahead and finish it. And then we’ll talk more about this.”
Paige tilted the cup and gulped the remaining tea, leaving only a thin layer of loose tea leaves at the bottom of her cup.
She did feel better, more relaxed, ready to listen to her friends’ ideas. Even they bordered on the, well. Bizarre.
“You want me to what?”
Olivia, her platinum hair waving over her face, her high cheeks accentuating the sharpness of her eyes, hazel and slightly inclined, giving her a vaguely Asian appearance, leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, covered in a pink hose.
Her red glossy lips gleamed when she smiled, and the blue shadow of above her eyes glittered. She blinked rapidly with long, heavily mascaraed lashes.
“It wouldn’t be so bad, would it? You’d be able to keep your apartment. And the money would be good. I promise, it would be so good.”
I’m sorry, but no was all Paige could think. She couldn’t, however, bring herself to say it. Not out loud. Not to her friends who’d been so kind to her.
Really, she shouldn’t have even had such friends.
They moved way beyond her social circle.
But she’d met them as a hostess.
Brenda was the one who chatted with her, too an interest in her, started to invite her out to the clubs, the parties, the yacht parties in the bay.
They’d had fun, they’d taken care of her, kept her away from bad elements when she drank too much champagne.
She kind of owed them.
In a way, didn’t she owe them?
“But. But why?”
Heather sighed. The practical one of the group despite her name, she liked to dress at all times in a semi-professional manner. Pencil skirts, hose, three- to four-inch heels, a dark or light blazer thrown over a dark or light blouse. A blazer that never managed to conceal the fullness of her breasts.
Heather, like Olivia, had blue eyes, but Heather’s hair shone yellow almost golden blond in contrast to her friend’s platinum look.
Paige herself was a tiny thing, waif-like; she knew it, acknowledged it, and never let it get to her. She kind of liked it in a way. Her small breasts, her thin hips, not boy-like, she had curves, just not pronounced in the way of her friends. Among Brenda, Heather, and Olivia, she was a child among grownups, a girl among women.
“Surely it’s clear to you, Paige? I mean, we’re making it clear to you, aren’t we?”
They were.
And she should just stand up, yell at them, and kick them out of her apartment. It belonged to her for now at least, and she didn’t have to put up with any of this bullshit.
Bullshit?
It wasn’t bullshit, though. Was it?
I mean, it kind of made sense.
Didn’t it?
“But what would I have to do?”
That’s when Brenda took over the reins of the conversation.
Good old Brenda.
“It’s just that we kind of get lonely ourselves, Paige. And it would be nice to have someone we could rely on. Someone we trusted. A friend we loved. It’s kind of a dangerous world out there, and you know how men are. We’ve been keeping you safe for a reason, you know. Keeping you away from those boys at our parties. Keeping you from making terrible, terrible mistakes.”
“But you want me to be your prostitute!”
There. She said it.
And somehow saying it came as a relief.
She felt less confused. More sure of herself. More sure of where things stood.
“Yes, Paige. We do. We want you to be our prostitute, as you put it. I mean, we’d pay you for your services. A lot of women, you know, a lot of girls like to get paid for sex. It’s a power thing. It fulfills them.”
“But I’m not gay. I’m not a lesbian. I’m not even bi. I’m just not into girls.”
Heather spoke up again, obviously annoyed.
“You don’t have to be honey. You’re not paying us. We’re paying you.”
Olivia chirped in.
“Besides, we’re not lesbians either. It’s just that. It’s just that.”
Brenda’s eyes darted at the blond woman.
Olivia fell quiet, not quite being able to put a finger on what “just that” actually entailed.
“I’m sorry,” Paige said. “I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to be rude, but I can’t. I just can’t.”
Brenda stood up, followed quickly by her two companions.
“I want you to think about it tonight, Paige. All night long I want you to think about being our prostitute. Just ours. Just mine, and Heather’s, and Olivia’s little lesbian whore. If it makes you hot, if you get really horny, play with yourself and think about us. Just us. Or other women. But not men, okay? Don’t fantasize about fucking men. Not tonight, darling. Can you do that for us? Would you do that for us?”
Paige looked up, her pale hazel eyes meeting Brenda’s brown eyes, and something told Paige inside that it would be so rude, so hurtful, so selfish not to at least consider it. All night long.
Paige nodded slowly and gulped.
“You can even watch lesbian porn to help you.”
Brenda smiled.
“Good. That’s it then. I really do think this will all work out for the best.”
Brenda reached down to pinch Paige’s chin softly between her thumb and forefinger.
“You really are the cutest thing.”
Somehow that made everything better.
Being the cutest thing.
II
She’d spent so much time thinking about it, considering her options from every angle, she didn’t fall asleep until well after midnight.
It didn’t make any sense.
Not all of it, anyway.
Some of it did.
About her making money, about her needing money, and about her getting paid a good amount.
That made sense.
I mean, I’d have to be.
Paid, that is. I’d have to be paid a good amount.
For that.
Paige frowned.
She wasn’t even sure what that was.
Oh, she’d seen those videos the boys would watch.
She watched television.
Streaming channels.
But not much of it.
She’d kept strictly with boys, men, as hard as that sometimes—often, to be honest—proved to be.
Men weren’t exactly, you know. Emotionally and intellectually rewarding.
Or even sexually rewarding for the most part.
Oh, she loved riding them, she loved the way the paid attention to her, fawned over her, squeezed her, held her tight against their hard male bodies.
Ghosted her after having had their way.
She didn’t like that.
It made her feel so.
Used.
But with girls?
She actually didn’t think about it. Oh, it crossed her mind, she’d theoretically, theoretically explored the idea. I mean, who hasn’t? What woman hasn’t? But to do it? To really do it? What did they do?
Well. They kissed.
They touched each other.
Their breasts. Did lesbians say breasts? Or did they say tits? Or did lesbians have a language known only to themselves for words like tit?
Would she have to learn the secret lesbian language?
Their pussies.
Oh my god.
They touched each other’s pussies.
Just the thought of it made her giggle like a middle schooler.
That’d have to be weird, right?
To lie next to another girl, say Olivia, and rub her pussy while making out with her, sinking her tongue into Olivia’s mouth. That’d have to be weird. Right? Rolling their hips together, trying to fuck without a dick.
How did anyone do that?
If she was going to be a prostitute, a lesbian prostitute for her friends, for Olivia, for Heather, for Brenda, she’d have to know.
She was thinking about it, too. Really considering it.
Olivia’s prostitute.
Heather’s whore.
Brenda’s call girl.
Could she? Could she do it?
She opened her phone browser, searched for lesbians, searched for lesbian kissing, and finally, having gathered all her courage, lesbian pornography.
Hot lesbian porn.
Hot dykes fucking.
The screen was so small.
She took a deep breath.
She needed a bigger screen.
III
She dragged herself out of bed, stumbled to her living room, turned on her television, a big flat screen hooked to the wall, and shared the websites on her phone.
Slipping her pajamas and panties to the floor, she sat on the sofa facing the screen and spread her legs.
I’ll should play with myself while watching this. When I become their whore, if I become their whore, I’m going to have to at least pretend to be excited.
Turned on.
Turned on by another woman.
I’m going to have to learn how to turn them on, too.
For me to be a good call girl, a woman’s call girl, I need to turn on other women.
Especially Olivia, Heather, and Brenda.
My clients.
I mean, it’s what they pay me for.
She visualized herself going from apartment to apartment, dressed as an expensive call girl, stripping sexily in front of her friends, trying hard to seduce them.
But I’ve already been bought. I won’t have to seduce them.
Still. They should get what they pay for.
She saw her friends, Heather for one, slowly taking her clothes off, leading her to her bed and then.
Then what?
She clicked play on her phone, letting the images and sounds of the videos roll over her.
Her hand slid down the soft skin of her abdomen, lingering over her bellybutton, an outie. Her fingertips touched the yielding protrusion, then slowly traveled the short distance over the small hump of her mons, sliding easily across the lips of her pussy.
Her pussy was warm but still a little dry, a little too dry.
She looked at the video, at the video of three women lying partially on their sides in a triangle on a bed, each woman’s face buried between the thighs of the other. From time to time the screen zoomed up close to show fingers entering wet vaginas, accompanied by squishy, squelchy sounds, the wet sounds of a pussy getting hammered by the fingers of a female lover.
Or the sounds of a woman’s mouth sucking on the fat, engorged lips of her lover’s pussy.
“Oh god, baby, that feels so good, don’t stop, don’t stop. Fuck me. Please, please fuck me. There. Yeah there.”
One of the women pulled her fingers away from a steaming, gaping cunt and brought her fingers to her lips, tasting the juices of her lover.
Paige followed suit, pulling her fingers away to suck her fingers, to suck her secretions off her fingers.
She thrust her fingers back into her warm fuckhole, her hips rolling and gyrating now against her hand, sliding her ass against the fabric of the sofa.
She felt so dirty now, so dirty and turned on, and she just wanted to fuck.
She closed her eyes to imagine a strong man with chiseled features standing in front of her spread legs, flinging her thighs apart to fuck like a wild animal.
No.
She had to think about Heather. Or Olivia. Or Brenda. She had to think about Brenda standing between her thighs, plunging a pink dildo into her hungry pussy, just like the blond girl on the screen was doing to the brunette.
Just fucking her senseless with a huge dildo to the rising screams coming from the screen, filling her living room, clobbering her brain.
And when the redhaired climbed back onto the bed, a fantastically large purple cock swinging and dangling from her groin by straps, Paige knew how Brenda was going to fuck her.
She spread her legs wider, scooting forward to the very edge of the couch to fuck herself with her hand.
I can do this, she thought with a growing sense of pride and happiness. I can be their prostitute. I can be their whore. I can take their money to let them fuck me all they want. Or fuck them. I can let them pay me to fuck them. I can do it.
Finally she came.
And continued to watch the videos, lesbian after lesbian. Some pretty and made up, some butch and covered in tattoos, almost manlike. But woman. All woman.
And that started to make her horny again.
IV
Brenda dropped by late in the morning, and she prepared another cup of tea for the still sleepy Paige.
She grimaced when she saw tea balls, tiny metal meshed spheres to hold the loose tea.
“Don’t be a grump,” Brenda scolded. “This tea will help wake you up.”
“You could have brought me a latte.”
Brenda turned to face her directly, hands on hip.
“You’d have to pay me for that. Unless. You’re prepared to pay in other ways.”
Paige tried to swallow the lump in her throat.
Eventually she had fallen asleep last night. She couldn’t remember how many times she climaxed watching and listening to women making love, having sex, fucking, kissing each other, touching each other. She fell asleep on the sofa, her final thoughts about being Brenda’s little whore drifting through her sleepy mind.
Then she woke up, and she felt sick.
Literally, emotionally, physically, and mentally sick.
What the hell was wrong with me last night?
As if I’d let them pay for me to have sex with them.
She got up, took a shower, pulled on her sweat shorts and t-shirt, and got ready for a new day searching online for jobs or TikTok videos.
She cleared her phone’s open browser.
She didn’t need that kind of reminder.
Then a knock rapped on the door, Paige answered it, and Brenda swooped in, hugging her friend, and then flowing into the kitchen to make tea.
Brenda giggled.
“Just kidding, Paige. God, you’re so dense. I can’t believe you think the three of us would want that with you. As if.”
Brenda held out a cup for Paige.
“We really got you good, didn’t we?”
Brenda walked to the sofa, sat in the middle and patted the seat for Paige to sit down. Next to her.
She waited for Paige to take a sip of her tea.
One sip.
Two sips.
Brenda continued to chat with her friend, and Paige slowly, slowly began to lose that sense of nausea creeping through her system ever since waking up.
She felt better. Much better.
She grinned at her behavior last night, and looked down to see Brenda’s left knee, covered in another pair of hose, touching the bare skin of her right knee as they sat on the sofa, the two of them close together and partly facing each other.
Brenda placed her left hand on Paige’s thigh, just above her knee.
Paige wanted to pull away, she did. It was just that, well. It felt nice. It felt nice for Brenda to touch her. It felt nice to have friends, woman friends to touch and comfort you. When you were worried. About boys. About money. About life goals.
“You thought about it last night, didn’t you? About being our whore. About us paying you to lick our pussies. Or for us to lick yours. To kiss our tits. Our lips. To taste us on your fingers, and on your tongue, and in your mouth. You thought about it all night long, didn’t you?
“To be our little lesbian prostitute.”
Paige nodded.
“And that’s the thing, isn’t it? You’d have to be a lesbian. Not just a girl getting by, not just a girl making an extra buck jilling her friends. No. You’d have to really be gay, Paige. You’d have to really become a dyke. A total lesbian whore for us. For our pussies.
“Because you need pussy so bad, don’t you?”
Paige nodded, practically whimpering.
“And that means practice. Lots of practice before we can pay you. You need lots of practice being a lesbian before you can be a lesbian whore. A lesbian call girl. A lesbian prostitute.”
It was true of course. Every word of it.
A sudden panic seized Paige.
She needed practice. She had to practice being a lesbian, she couldn’t just pretend to be one for a few bucks. She had to earn it. To really earn it by being a real lesbian. But how could she? How could she practice?
“I watched a lot of porn last night,” she said softly. “Lesbian porn. Dyke porn. I saw.”
“Yeah?”
“I saw girls fucking each other with dildos strapped to their hips.”
“Was it hot?”
“Oh god, Brenda. I came so hard.”
Brenda set her cup of tea down on the table right beside Paige’s empty cup.
Paige felt Brenda’s fingers caressing her face softly, using the back of her knuckles to wipe up and down Paige’s face. Her eyes were closed, and Paige sighed.
“You can practice with me, Paige. You can practice with me this morning.”
Brenda’s hands dropped to the hem of Paige’s t-shirt, lifting it up.
“But are you a lesbian, Brenda?” Paige asked.
Brenda smiled and bit her bottom lip.
“I don’t have to be,” she replied as she lifted Paige’s shirt over her neck and head.
“You can be one for the both of us.”
Then Brenda removed her own blouse, slowly unbuttoning her shirt button by button.
“Watch me, Paige. Watch me take off my shirt, watch me take off my bra.”
Paige watched.
V
Brenda moved Paige’s shoulders to face her directly.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” she said. “It’s no big deal, I promise. You’ve kissed plenty of boys, right? It’s the same thing. Kind of.”
Brenda’s hands clasped Paige’s face, holding the soft skin of her cheeks in her hands. Paige closed her eyes and waited. She didn’t have to wait long. She jerked when she felt Brenda’s lips brush her own, but Brenda told her to hush and keep still.
“Hush,” she said. “Keep still.”
Brenda’s lips mushed against Paige’s lips, and Brenda’s tongue slipped, meeting the resistance of her friend’s clenched mouth. But Brenda persisted, licking the tip of her tongue along the warm lips of her friend. Paige resisted, feeling a little gross—and a little violated—by her friend. She squeezed her lips tightly as a flurry of confused feelings and conflicting emotions ran through her mind.
This is so gross, she thought.
We shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be doing this.
I don’t like girls. I’m not a lesbian. I don’t.
But she was. She was a lesbian. She masturbated all last night to lesbians, and she had imagined this moment while she came and came and came.
Kissing a girl. Kissing a woman. Kissing her friends. Kissing Brenda and Heather and Olivia while they did things to her, wonderful things.
Feeling her breasts, her boobs, her tits pressed so close to Brenda’s tits, feeling her nipples hardened against Brenda’s nipples, she moaned and whined into her friend’s mouth.
My client, she suddenly realized.
She’s not just my friend. She’s my client. She’s paying me for this. She’s paying me to make her feel good. I need to make her feel good. I’m her prostitute.
But Brenda ran her tongue over Paige’s lips, then pressed her lips against her top lip, then kissed her bottom lip playfully, sensually, and Paige’s mouth slowly opened. Her lips gradually parted.
At last Paige, getting turned on, feeling warm and aroused, opened her mouth fully to let Brenda inside, moaning softly at the intrusion of the other woman’s tongue inside her wet mouth, feeling the first pangs of a growing hunger.
Or I will be soon, Paige thought as her tongue twirled around Brenda’s tongue. I’ll be her whore soon.
But first I have to earn it. I have to earn this.
A new resolve filled her, a resolution to succeed here where she’d failed so often.
I can do this, she told herself. They won’t fire me. I won’t give them a reason to fire me. I’m going to earn every dime they pay me.
Finally, Brenda pulled away from her kiss, cupped Paige’s cheeks between her hands, and grinned cheerfully.
“See?”
Paige nodded.
“You’re such a lesbian. No straight girl would kiss another woman like that.”
Paige shook her head.
No.
A straight girl wouldn’t kiss like that.
A straight girl wouldn’t be a prostitute for other women.
Only a lesbian would do that.
Only a lesbian whore would do that.
A dyke whore.
Pride swelled in Paige’s bosom.
VI
Brenda fluffed the sofa cushions behind her, reclining against them while stretching her legs till her feet bumped against Paige’s hips.
Paige gazed with admiration and longing at Brenda’s topless form stretched in front of her, her breasts falling to either side with her broad areolas and round nipples, dark and lovely, protruding from each top.
Paige saw Brenda’s eyes lingering on her own tits, so much smaller than Brenda’s imposing pair.
Brenda smiled.
“So cute. So hot.”
Paige blushed.
“Take my skirt off, Paige. You need to be the one to get us naked. It’s what you do now. It’s your art and craft. Your slutty art and craft.”
Paige leaned forward, moved her hands to Brenda’s side, undid the big top button of her skirt, and the slowly unbuttoned the remaining smaller buttons, one at a time until all buttons were open. Then she gently tugged her skirt down her hips and her legs. Brenda lifted her hips and held her legs together, letting Paige pull her skirt completely off, drawing her knees up to let Paige slip the fabric off her feet.
Then she looked at Paige and pointed at her pantyhose.
“Now take off my hose, Paige. Look at my pussy. Look at how wet you made me just by kissing me.”
Brenda bent her knees back and lifted her hips to show Paige.
It was true.
A large wet mark, a dark irregular oval shape ran from the top of Brenda’s mons down to her ass.
“Now take off my pantyhose so you can eat me. I know you’re dying to taste me, to taste my wet pussy.”
I am, Paige realized at that moment. I’m dying to taste her. I need to taste her. I just have to taste her pussy.
The gusset of Brenda’s pantyhose clung to her wet lips as Paige pulled the delicate fabric down the young woman’s hips, and when Paige finally maneuvered the garment from Brenda’s wiggling feet, Brenda sighed.
“Smell it, Paige. Smell the crotch of my pantyhose. Breathe me in.”
Paige held the pantyhose to her nose, any lingering doubt or nagging resistance by now had dissipated like the morning mist in the bright rays of sunlight. She closed her eyes as if trying to imprint this new experience deeply and forever into her brain. She breathed deeply, inhaled her friend’s pungent funk and exhaled slowly, sighing in pleasure and contentment.
“Oh my god, you slut. You can’t get enough of that, can you? I bet you’re so ready now to eat me. To eat your first pussy.”
Paige pulled her legs up to sit with her rump on her calves, kneeling in front of Brenda, setting her pantyhose carefully behind her. She stared at the woman lying on her back, her legs spread now, her right leg hooked over the back of the sofa and her left leg dropped to the floor.
Only yesterday it seemed, Paige loved men, her type of man. Tall, muscular, rigid, solid chins. Strong, powerful, and hard.
She loved the way they made her feel so small, so child-like, so frail, her tiny body like a doll in their powerful arms.
She used to love squatting above their cocks, pushing her cunt down hard on their hard thrusting cocks, her hands roaming their hard solid chests, squeezing their muscles, their arms, nuzzling her lips against their faces, rarely smooth, almost always stubbled.
She loved, or she used to love, sucking their cocks, holding their cocks in her mouth, feeling them throb, pulsate, and shoot warm cum into her mouth.
She did love it.
And she’d done it often.
As a hostess, she had met many men, men who were shameless in their desire to fuck her and to let her know it.
But that all seemed so long ago to her now.
She gazed at Brenda’s beautiful body with a mixture of admiration and longing, with the strange sensation of something igniting within her, a volcano, long thought dormant, building to a fierce and terrible eruption. Her body began to shudder, and her lips trembled.
Brenda’s body, so unlike a man’s, rolled in soft curves from her face, richly wrapped in the brown waves of her hair, down the slope of her neck, over the soft round swell of her shoulders, down the entire length of her body. Paige’s lingered over Brenda’s chest then drifted down over her belly button, delighting in the shallow hole before moving downward to meet the red juicy cleft of her vagina.
Paige inhaled quickly, moving her eyes from Brenda’s crotch, unwilling to go there just yet.
Oh god.
I’m going to taste her pussy. My first pussy. Hers. She’ll be my first.
Her thighs were smooth, and the curve of her calves intoxicated Paige’s eyes.
At that moment, Brenda sat up, leaned forward, and grabbed a handful of Paige’s straight brown hair.
Then she leaned back again, dragging Paige’s face with her.
“It’s time,” she said. “I can’t wait any longer.”
Neither could Paige.
Brenda’s stink rose from her hole, and Paige didn’t so much as breath in the odor of it as absorb it through every pore of her face, taking in the aroma through her nose and mouth until her whole being seemed filled with it, with her, with the smell of Brenda.
A long, wavering line, some two, maybe three inches long, surrounded by the wet skin of her labia, wide ragged flaps drenched in dew, almost the color of the fruit of a blood orange ran from just below her mons to her asshole, concealed in the depths of Brenda’s ass.
Not yet, Paige realized. I won’t go there yet.
A tremor shuddered through her body.
But I will. They’ll make me. They’ll pay me to lick their assholes.
The thought shuddered through her mine in its inescapable truth.
And then she didn’t care.
And then she looked forward to it.
And then she grew hot and greedy for it, hot and greedy to taste Brenda’s asshole, to taste Heather’s asshole, to taste Olivia’s asshole, but first, first, first she needed to kiss Brenda’s waiting and quivering wet pussy.
To wedge her tongue between those two red flaps, wide like wings near the top of her cunt, tapering as her line led to her as before flaring out again in lesser wings, dripping with secretions.
“Come on, baby. I’ll tell you what to do, but you won’t need it. Something tells me you won’t need it at all.”
No, Paige thought. I won’t.
She’d seen so much of it, so much of women eating each other last night, that somehow she knew she’d do okay, and when Brenda’s hand descended to spread her lips wider for Paige’s tongue, Paige almost laughed in the predictability of it all.
I knew she’d do that. It’s what they all do.
Paige’s lips drew closer and closer to the hot hole.
One foot, six inches, three inches, two inches, then one inch away, and then her she extended her tongue, and it touched.
It touched.
VII
The taste was indescribable. Somehow bitter, sweet, tangy, and bland at the same time, it overwhelmed Paige’s already tea-battered mind, saturating the girl with a permanent need for the taste of a woman.
Oh my god.
Her tongue slowly flicked up towards Brenda’s clitoral hood, just touched it, and slid down the other way, teasing her poor friend over and over.
Before long, Brenda smashed her groin into Paige’s face, grabbing her by the back of the head and grinding her cunt into the new prostitute’s face.
Paige’s mouth covered Brenda’s pussy. She sucked on her clit, inhaling her client’s flesh, sucking the top of her wet and sloppy cunt as deep into her mouth as she could before letting it plop back in squelches of wet noise. She licked frantically, unable to decide whether to lick or suck, to swipe with the broad flat of her tongue or to drive the tip deep, deep, deep into the hot, quivering hole.
She did all of it, spreading Brenda’s thighs apart with her hands flat against the sides of Brenda’s legs, keeping her mouth locked onto Brenda’s grinding crotch, her eyes glued to Brenda’s eyes as her client gazed at her with glazed and dilated pupils.
“Oh god, Paige. Oh god, yeah. There. Yeah, there.”
But there remained unclear and undefined, for Paige’s tongue darted everywhere in a dizzying savoir-faire of lesbian carnality.
Paige’s hands moved from Brenda’s thighs, caressing their way up Brenda’s body, moving over her soft and yielding belly to massage her heavy breasts, squeezing and fondling her nipples and cupping her glands, her fingers themselves seemed dazed with lust, unable to decide what to touch next and so touched everything, flitting like a honeybee from flower to flower, from blossom to blossom.
And then she came, Brenda came.
Her orgasm began somewhere in the region of her mons, trembling and furious, and quickly spread throughout her body, sending wave after wave of pleasure through her system. Her back arched, and she flung her head back, smashing Paige’s head hard against her cunt while she ground her hips against the girl, crushing her face between her tightening thighs as a stream of thin, milky liquid oozed from between the ravaged lips of her tongue-fucked cunt.
And when it finally subsided, Brenda pulled Paige up.
The whore lay flat against her client, her smaller breasts pressed against Brenda’s, and Brenda’s hands roamed Paige’s body slowly, smoothly, sensually absorbing this moment, relishing in the afterglow.
They kissed, and the kiss was more slow and lingering, and their tongues danced in a kind of waltz, calm and reflective.
Paige pulled away first.
“Well,” she asked. “Do I get the job? Can I be your prostitute?”
Brenda laughed.
“Oh god, Paige. You’re going to be a wonderful prostitute. For me. For Heather. For Olivia. We’re going to use you like you can’t even imagine. You’re going to earn your pay, all right.”
VIII
When she finally left, Brenda reached into her purse and pulled out a bundle of bills, throwing them carelessly onto the naked Paige, half-asleep and still wearing the strap-on dildo Brenda retrieved from a floral shopping bag she’d brought with her.
“There you go,” she said curtly. “I wasn’t going to pay you yet, but you earned it Paige. You really did.”
Paige counted her bills languorously, her mind stiff drifting in the slow-ebbing afterglow of multiple, multiple orgasms. She had wanted to stop several times, fearful of going to far, fearful of damaging her heart, her vagina, her mind. But Brenda kept her going, kept touching her, kept kissing her, kept tonguing her, and kept fucking her.
Ten bills, twenty dollars each.
Not bad, she thought. But I’ll have to make more.
IX
The weeks passed into a month or more, and Paige found herself sitting at a club, at a round table nestled in a kind of cubby hole backed by a curved padded bench lining a dark purple wall, squeezed between Heather and Olivia.
By this time Paige had stopped wearing panties when going out with the two women, her former friends. Though still friendly enough, Paige understood without needing to be told they now considered her little more than a sex toy.
They weren’t mean.
But they were relentless in their demands on her.
Heather called her first.
“Brenda says you agreed. She said it’s something you really want to do, and I don’t mind telling you I’m super excited about this. I’m so glad you’re our whore now. Our own little prostitute. This is going to be so fun.
“Can you come over tonight? Can you fit me in your schedule, or did that bitch Olivia get you first?”
Paige had laughed, amused, even happy with the way things were turning.
“Nope,” she answered. “You’ll be my first. I mean, I practiced on Brenda, but you’ll be my first scheduled client.”
“Dress like a whore. When you come over. I want to see you looking like the cheapest whore any creep of a guy would rent. And wear strong perfume. Just cover yourself in it. Like a cheap slut that doesn’t know any better. Oh god, Paige. I think I just came.”
Heather set the time, and Paige spent two hours throwing on and taking off items of clothing. Finally she settled on a very sheer halter meant to be worn over a bra. She didn’t wear the bar. The color was a pale gold which matched the very tight and very short leopard skin mini skirt a friend had bought as a joke. She pulled the skirt up so the hem rode just above the rounds of her ass cheeks, showing off the bottoms.
She threw a red plastic belt over the ensemble, covered her face in makeup as luridly as she could, gobbed mascara and eyeshadow, stuck bright pink lipstick on her lips, and sprayed her body all over with Very Sexy by Victoria Secret. It was cheap and strong. Somehow she thought her stuffy, upper crust elite friends, no clients, would thrill at the idea of her covered in cheap perfume.
But the crème de la crème was her hair.
She had gone to get it dyed earlier that day, asking and then demanding the stylist to cut most of it off.
“I need it short. A short pixie cut dyed an almost white platinum blonde. I want to look. Like a girl’s girl.”
The stylist tried arguing, but the look in Paige’s eyes brooked no debate.
The piercing in her right nostril and the one through her septum hurt, but they completed her look.
Later, she’d get that tongue pierced.
And her tits.
Why stop there?
Her body offered some many places to pierce.
She squeezed her thighs as she drove to Heather’s condo.
Heather had been ready.
She didn’t make small talk or try to make conversation with Paige.
She treated her professionally, but she lacked any of that affection she used to show Paige, her friend.
I’m not her friend now, Paige realized. I’m her whore.
Before she knew it, Paige found herself kneeling on Heather’s bed, spitting on and sucking a big blue dildo on a harness around her client’s hips. And when Heather threw her on her back, spread her legs, and stuck the tip of the dildo to the warm pussy between her labia, she squeezed her eyes shut and told herself, “this is my job, this is my job, this is my job.”
And when Heather shoved the fake dick deep inside her in one motion, she groaned to herself, “I’m getting paid, I’m getting paid, I’m getting paid.”
When Heather spit in her face, it surprised Paige more than anything, and when Heather said, “You deserved that, didn’t you slut? You’re nothing but a cheap whore,” Paige nodded, and when Heather told her to open her mouth, Paige opened her mouth.
“Wider,” Heather said.
Paige opened her mouth wide, her oral cavity yawned to receive the gob of spit Heather hurled into it from above.
“Swallow,” Heather said, and Paige swallowed.
Clients are customers, and customers are always right.
She was also a whore, and whores shouldn’t have pride.
Not on the job, she thought.
Oddly, Paige didn’t cum that night, but Heather did. Several times.
Later, several nights later when Heather called her again, she came. Heather was so loving that night, so affectionate. She licked Paige until Paige screamed and shrieked, and still she licked Paige. She licked Paige until Paige had to push her away, but Heather was the client, and she would not be pushed away. So Paige screamed, and Heather licked.
But Heather also kissed, and those kisses were so good.
And Heather also caressed, and her hands touched her so. Good.
The money Heather flung at her was even better.
Olivia had been the gentlest of the lot, to begin with.
She talked so sweetly to her, treated her so kindly, and when they kissed. Wow. Birds, butterflies, fireworks, and dandelions. Yes, dandelions. Dandelions with tresses as yellow as any beloved by Shawondasee burst throughout her body, springing from green fields of her new being leapt up at her feet and fluttered from her skies, and when her tongue bumped against the hard steel stud in Olivia’s tongue, she pulled back, her eyes quizzical and bemused.
Olivia grinned and then winked at her rented fucktoy.
“I know, right? I can’t believe you just now noticed. I got it pierced a month ago. I can’t wait till you get yours. The girls, all of us, we decided. Oh god, the things we’re going to do to you.”
Olivia’s mouth returned to Paige’s stunned lips. From toe to top and from side to side the newly turned prostitute what her friends, her former friends, were going to do to her.
Should she be worried?
Olivia unfastened buttons, unclasped hooks, and unzipped zippers while kissing Paige, her lips pressed and repressed Paige’s lips, and Paige trembled, tasting Olivia’s lipstick mixed with her own lipstick, the strangeness of it all added to her arousal, her growing need to make Olivia happy in the best sexual way possible.
And having Olivia making her happy, making Paige happy in the best possible sex.
But Olivia first.
Always Olivia first.
The girls always came first.
Then Paige.
Then Paige would get to cum.
In time Paige embraced Olive, naked except her heels and black fishnet hose, tongue entwined with Olivia’s tongue until finally Olivia broke the kiss and smiled sweetly at her former friend.
“Would you be my girlfriend tonight, little whore?”
Paige nodded, her eyes gleaming with arousal and joy, a wonderful feeling of belonging combined with lust and wantonness.
“I’m going to treat you so good, Paige. But next time, next time I might not.”
Paige swallowed.
Of course, she thought. The choice belonged entirely to Olivia.
Later, when Olivia went down on her and showed her what a pierced tongue can do to a pussy, can do to a clit, Paige screamed and vowed to get her tongue pierced.
Later, a few days later, a few days after Olivia’s pierced tongue had driven her to heights of an ecstasy so outrageous Paige’s words slipped into Elvish and united with the Black Speech, the three girls split the little whore among them, ramming her mercilessly as Brenda, Heather, and Olivia, each sporting a long and wide phallus at their hips, impaled Paige in all three holes, taking turns fucking her mouth, her cunt, her tortured asshole.
“What a fucking whore, Paige. You’re such a fucking whore now, just look at you.” That came from Brenda.
“You like this so much, I bet you’d do it for free, you’re such a lesbian slut.”
Heather had said that, a mocking gleam in her eyes.
A worried look flashed across Paige’s face, and Olivia recognized the alarm.
“Nah, she’s too much of a whore. She loves getting paid, don’t you, you little dyke hooker? You’d do anything for money, wouldn’t you?”
That came from Olivia, showing Paige a cruelty she hadn’t expected.
But it was true.
She’d do anything for money.
She was a whore, after all.
They made sure to ply her with tea, the always kept the tea coming in those first days, those first weeks, and Paige was always turned on, and always alert, her mind keen to listen to instruction, ever mindful for new opportunities for obedience.
The clients are always right, she thought. And a good whore does what she’s told.
Brenda had made sure that Paige got that part right.
They trio fucked her to multiple orgasm, Brenda, Heather, and Olivia all cumming as they fucked the orgasm and tea shattered mind of their prostitute, and when they finished, she showered Paige’s exhausted and sweaty body with dollar bills, which even in her exhaustion Paige reached out to grab, holding the wads of cash close to her face.
Money.
So hot. So good.
One weekend they took her to get all her piercings.
“Let’s get this over with, Paige. It’s time you really looked the part.”
Her nipples. Her bottom lip. Her tongue. Her earlobes were lined on each side with rings and studs, half a dozen piercings at least per ear. Her nose had already been pierced.
When it came time to do her labia and clit, Paige almost balked.
“But you’ll look so hot, baby,” Olivia had coaxed, holding up a cup of tea she had brought with them. “You can do it.”
Paige sipped the tea and felt good, relaxed. Aroused. Which was weird.
But oh so good.
Olivia wanted it. Her clients wanted it.
So Paige did it.
Besides, she’d look so hot.
Her cunt would look so hot.
The two Venus symbol tattoos, each around the areolas of her studded tits, hurt like hell. So did the Dyke Whore tattoo in gothic calligraphy just above her mons.
“That’ll do for now, Paige,” Heather had said. “But really, you need to start thinking about getting more ink. Whores just love ink. It makes them stand out. Trashy lezzie sluts like you really like ’em.”
Heather winked at her.
“You’ll look so cute.”
They’d put a jeweled stud in the far end of each eyebrow and a stud fashioned like a Cupid’s arrow through each inner end of her brows.
They made her wear sundresses and dainty lace dresses when they took her out to the lesbian clubs.
Paige squeezed between Heather and Olivia, enjoying the warmth of their bodies and wondering how to please them in those small things she knew the girls loved. She placed her palm on Olivia’s leg, stroking her hose-covered leg slowly and gently, letting her client know she was there. And available.
Olivia turned quickly to her and kissed on the side of the mouth.
“You’re so sweet,” she said, turning her attention to Brenda again, who sat on Olivia’s right.
Heather, on Paige’s left, moved her hand between the prostitute’s legs, and Paige opened her thighs wide to the girl in, always making herself accessible to anything any one of them wanted.
They paid for her. They could use her.
The three girls drank their drinks, but Paige merely sipped at her cup of tea.
She’d been drinking the stuff for a month, day and night, and she enjoyed the warm feeling of blissful unconcern, curiously mixed with sexual arousal, that always accompanied imbibing the stuff.
Was that strange?
Did she think that the tea had anything to do with the, um, weird turn her life had taken in the past month?
Truth to tell, she didn’t think about it.
She didn’t think about much of anything lately.
Just how to please a woman, what kind of toys they liked, their favorite positions, whether they liked oral sex, or talking, or tit play or even tit torment. She knew she needed to broaden her horizons, learn new tricks, so to speak, get more experience, there was only so much Brenda, Heather, or Olivia could show her.
She was a prostitute, after all.
A specialty hooker with a specialty niche.
Lesbian.
No men.
Ever.
All three girls had hammered that into her.
“Not even if the client wants it, Paige. Never with a man. It’ll ruin your. Desirability. Marketability. Our lesbian clients want a women who only works with women. No bi stuff for you.”
“Don’t worry about it too much, though,” Brenda reassured her. “We’re going to vet your clients very carefully. For a fee, of course.”
Naturally, mused Paige. For a fee.
It all came down to money.
It always came down to money.
“We have someone coming for you tonight. I think you’ll like her. Not that it makes any difference. But, oh gosh, how can I put this? You really, really seem to like girls. Women. Being a dyke just comes so naturally to you. So easily. And this woman, she’s a woman’s woman, if you know what I mean.”
Paige’s eyes fluttered, and her brows frowned.
She wasn’t sure what Brenda meant.
“She’s a bit of a bull dyke, Paige,” Heather clarified. “And you know. Once you give in, once you let the idea in, my god. You haven’t been fucked until you’ve been fucked by a butch.”
Olivia tittered.
“They just. They just know how to make a girl feel good. And their humor. Oh god. The jokes they tell.”
Brenda spoke up.
“She makes movies. You know, the kind you like watching. She specializes in true lesbian pornography. If you’re really good to her, she might want to use you. You might get a chance to star in a lesbian porn video, Paige. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
Her name was Lana, and Paige sat on her lap sideways, her little arms flung around the strong woman’s neck and shoulders, her lips and tongue repeatedly touching and probing the dyke’s mouth, holding her drink up to her mouth for her when she want to drink, opening her legs for the big woman’s powerful hands when she wanted to paw her little pussy, pulling down her dress low enough for Lana to kiss her tit.
Eventually, Lana stood up.
“She’ll do just fine,” she said. “How much again?”
Paige stood next to the taller Lana, her little hand around the broad waist, falling down a little to stroke and pet the powerful rump in its polyester pants suit.
She wondered if she should be involved in the price negotiations.
Then she shook her head.
I’m just the whore, she thought. I don’t need to think about those sorts of things.
Then her mind started wandering.
A movie star. I never thought I’d get the chance to be movie star. I ought to, though. I ought to be in pictures.
Lana turned towards Paige and looked down, grabbing the girl’s waist.
“C’mon kiddo, there’s so much I want to do with you.”
Paige smiled up at her new client.
“Baby, I’m gonna treat you so nice, you’re never gonna let me go.”
Brenda beamed at Paige.
“That’s the spirit.”