Article 44828 of alt.sex.stories: Message-ID: 014455Z20011995@anon.penet.fi Path: usenet.ufl.edu!usenet.eel.ufl.edu!kinky.eng.gtefsd.com!europa.eng.gtefsd.com!howland.reston.ans.net!EU.net!news.eunet.fi!anon.penet.fi Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories X-Anonymously-To: alt.sex.stories Organization: Anonymous contact service Reply-To: an105831@anon.penet.fi Lines: 419
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Karissa by LuvrMan
I knew the minute I laid eyes on her that she was a hooker. No woman purposely looked that provocative unless she was hustling. She was a stunning redhead in a black spandex minidress with a halter top. Her large, ripe melons threatened to spill out of their skimpy confinement, and her deliciously narrow waist and full, rounded hips were defined by a wide red patent belt. Her long, shapely legs were enclosed in sheer black stockings, and her feet were gracefully shod in matching red patent pumps with five inch stiletto heels. Her fathomless jade eyes were deeply made up in green and gold, framed by furry black lashes. Her plush lips and long, graceful fingernails were polished in fiery red. She told me her name was Cybil, and I had to have her.
Picking her up was not a problem. We each knew what the other was there for, and came to an amicable arrangement. As we left, I thought I was going to shoot my load in my pants just watching her hips undulate back and forth as she strutted towards the door. On the way home she did everything to keep me aroused. She fondled my raging hard-on through my pants, blew in my ear, nibbled on my earlobe, stuck her tongue in my ear, scraped her fingernails against my exposed chest.
We arrived at my place - not a moment too soon for my aching cock. She took one look at my house and gasped.
"Honey, if I had known you were loaded, I would
have charged you double. C'mon, Lover; I'm going
to get that extra out of you yet!"
The sex was great -- not just because she was skillful (she was), not just because she was beautiful (she certainly was). it was great because of the thrill of knowing that this beautiful, talented temptress was a professional. It was wildly erotic to think that this exquisite woman, whom I had never met before, was having sex with me on demand for a cold cash payoff. I had always fantasized about being that woman; perched enticingly on a barstool, waiting, then being propositioned, reaching an agreement, taking the john someplace private, accepting his money, then fucking him senseless.
She stirred, as if to leave. As she got up, she noticed a stack of photographs on the bedside table. Before I could stop her, she picked them up and began to leaf through them.
"Mmmm, dynamite-looking Fox! I can see that I'm not
your first Working Girl. Who is she? I don't think
I've seen her around before."
"It's me. I like to dress."
She stopped dead. Her chin dropped and her eyes grew wide as she went through the stack, alternately looking at the photos, then me. When she had finished, a sly smile spread across her lips. She pushed me down on my back, straddled my hips, impaled herself on my now-rock- hard cock and rode me for all I was worth. She gently raked my chest with her long fingernails as she softly spoke to me.
"No Lover, you don't just like to dress. You LOVE
it! The woman in these pictures proves that. You
dress to turn men on, to make them hot for you,
just like a pro. You make ME hot, just looking at
your pictures. No girl looks that good by accident.
Now, Honey, tell me what you REALLY want. What was
it I saw in your eyes at the bar? TELL ME!"
"You're right. I love to dress as a woman. I love
to be sexy, provocative, sluttish. I have always
wanted to know what it's like to hook for a living;
to pick up a stranger, take him to a room, take his
money, and fuck him senseless. I saw you tonight,
and I saw the "me" I have always wanted to be. I
want to know how it feels."
Cybil's eyes gleamed as she took in my words, as if some plan had crystallized in her head. She smiled her seductive smile and rolled over until she lay beside me, still gripping my cock tightly inside her drenched pussy. She pressed her lush body against mine and continued to rhythmicallly pump my fuck-pole into her. I could feel her hot breath on my face as she spoke slowly, softly, commandingly:
"So you want to know how it feels, do you, Sugar?
I can arrange that. I love to transform mousey
little guys like you into beautiful, sexy women.
It's a real turn-on for me. I don't have to ask
you how you would feel about it; I can see it in
your eyes. Look at me. Look at my body. You love it,
don't you, Honey? You would love to have a body
like mine, wouldn't you? You would love to have a
pair of full, firm tits like mine. You crave a
nice, round ass and a tight, wet pussy of your
own, don't you? You would sell your soul to live
my life; to seduce men, make them hot for you, make
them give you anything you ask for, just so they
can feel your tits, feel your ass, feel your
whole body pressed against theirs, feel their
cock inside your tight, wet pussy. Imagine what
that would feel like, Lover; a big, hard cock
inside you, driving in and out, hot cum spurting
into your pussy. You would die to be the kind of
woman that a man would pay anything to possess,
if only for a little while - wouldn't you, Sugar?
Well, I'm not going to just tell you about it; I'm
going to show you. You have a beautiful place with
lots of bedrooms, and this neighborhood has great
potential; the local clubs ooze money. It's an
ideal set-up. Tell you what. I think I'm going to
stay with you a while. In fact, I think I'm going
to call a couple of my friends and have them stay
here, too. My friends and I are going to set up a
little business here, work the clubs, have some
guys over. While we're here, we are going to
change you into your "dream girl." Your new name
will be -- Karissa, soft as a woman's caress. We
will give the kind of body you have always wanted,
the kind that men drool over. You will learn how
to walk, talk, sit in ways that get guys hot. We
will teach you how to give a blowjob that will
drive a guy up the wall. We will show you how to
get a guy off right under the table. When you are
ready, we will take you out to the same bars you
go to now. You are going to pick up tricks with
us, bring them back here, and screw their brains
out. We may even have you pick up your best
friend. But you know what, Honey? I guarantee he
won't have any idea who you are, and he wouldn't
care if he did. All he will be able to think about
is this hot-looking fox in front of him that he
just HAS to get his cock into. And you will want
him to do it, too, because by that time you will
be one of us, and he will be just another source
of income to you. The only way you will really get
it on is with another hooker; WE know what it
takes to get each other hot. I'm getting very hot
just thinking about turning you into a really sexy
whore. I want to see you all dressed up, made up,
with curves in all the right places. We'll turn
tricks together, but the special moments, the hot
moments, we will save for each other. Besides,
Lover, if you don't go along with it, I just might
start showing these pictures of you around, you
know what I mean?"
The threats weren't necessary; by that time I would have given her anything to do what she said she was going to do. She probably knew that already, and just tossed them in to add a little drama.
She started that night by examining my feminine wardrobe ("You do have good taste, Honey"). She laced me into one of my corsets, then added stockings, heels, a sheer black peignoir, full makeup, and my platinum blonde wig. She selected my largest dildo ("I knew a slut like you would have one") and fucked me into total submission.
Cybil made a couple of calls the next morning, then spent the next few hours feminizing me. By noon my body was completely hairless, corsetted, stockinged, and padded in all the right places. I was in a long silk dressing robe and stiletto heels ("get used to them, Karissa; that's all you will wear on your feet from now on"). The doorbell rang and she lead me to the door and opened it. Her two friends, Ginger and Monica, were every bit as striking as Cybil.
"Ginger, Monica, I want you to meet Karissa. She
wants to become one of us, and I told her we would
show her everything she needs to know. Won't we?"
She flashed them a big wink that I was meant to see. They all laughed, then they led me to the kitchen where they all went to work on me.
I was completely made over that afternoon. Although I was to wear wigs until my own hair grew out, they bleached my hair a shimmering platinum blonde ("We wouldn't want any dark roots to spoil your look now, would we Honey?"). My eyebrows were thinned and trimmed into high arches. My ears were double-pierced and two sets of studs were put in place until the punctures healed. While Cybil and Ginger worked on my makeup, Monica gave me a long, lustrous set of square-cut sculptured nails. When they had finished, Ginger and Monica each grabbed one of my wrists and pulled me forward over the table. I lay there helplessly as Cybil moved in behind me. I felt the cooling touch of an alcohol swab on my butt, followed by the sharp sting of a needle.
"What was that?"
"Shh now, Karissa. That was your first hormone
shot. You will get one every day from now on.
Soon you will have curves in all the right places,
and then you really will be just like us, just as
I promised you. You'll like that, won't you, Baby?"
I could have said "no" right then, and called the whole thing off. I could have sent them on their way and gone on with my life. I really could have.
"Yes, thank you. I will like that very much."
The days passed. I helped my three lovely companions move their personal belongings in. At the same time, we redecorated the house into a very graceful, very elegant, very feminine home. The girls kept me corsetted and dressed for "business" at all times. They took turns indoctrinating me. I picked up their techniques, their approaches, their attitudes, even their patterns of speech. I acted as their receptionist, setting up appointments for clients who called, greeting the clients at the door when they arrived, making them feel relaxed and comfortable until their girl was ready for them. The girls developed a sensual, exotic ritual which they practiced on me every night. I would wait in my bedroom, dressed in corset, stockings, heels, a sheer pegnoir, fully made up and perfumed, as though I were waiting for a client. Then one (and sometimes all three) of the girls would enter, kiss and caress me for a while, then gently force me down on the bed, administer my hormone shot, then give me a long, slow fucking with a large dildo.
As more time passed and the contours of my body changed, I became more confident in my new lifestyle. I had begun to practice "warming up" the clients while they waited, to make their experience that much more pleasurable. It wasn't long before they began to request that I participate in their scenes. I found out that I really love to suck cock, not to mention taking a big dick up the ass. I even took part in a few Domination scenes. It's a real rush to have some guy on his knees before me, begging me to whip him. It turns out that a transsexual dominatrix is especially intimidating; the poor wimp is reduced to a puddle of jelly when he realizes his mistress is about to do to him what he does to everyone else in his life.
Soon I progressed from participating in the other girls' scenes to turning my own tricks. It's thrilling to have clients request my services. Cybil was right; it is an ego trip to have that kind of power over a man, to hold his cock in my hand and watch him spurt cum all over, knowing that at this moment I own him, and he will do anything I ask him to if I will "please just make it last a little longer!"
The girls kept at least one night open each week to get out to the clubs, have a few drinks, dance, and maybe drum up some new business. Working girls are just like salesmen; they are always "on", always pitching, even when they are out playing. One such Thursday night they decided it was time to throw me a "graduation party". They spent an hour fussing over me, giggling, teasing me, as though I was going to my first prom. I was laced into a bright red satin corset which compressed my waistline to a scant twenty-two inches, while my hips flared out to a full, rounded thirty-six . My legs were encased in gossamer-sheer black stockings which fastened to the garters of my corset. The seams of the stockings ran arrow-straight up the backs of my legs. I wore a red lace underwired demi-bra which cradled the undersides of my hormonally-enhanced tits and pushed them high up on my chest, giving me full, rounded mounds and a deep, luscious cleavage. My matching red lace bikini panties kept me tucked in tightly, so that no telltale bulge would spoil the effect. I wore a black silk short-sleeved blouse with a wrap-around front. The effect was to create a plunging "V" neckline which showed of my lush cleavage and just a hint of red lace bra for contrast. My ample curves were squeezed into a knee-length black leather hobble skirt, with a spray of diamond-shape rhinestones down the front. With the blouse tucked into the skirt, my tiny waist was defined by a wide red calfskin cincher belt. My feet were shod in red calfskin pumps with five inch stiletto heels. My platinum hair was fluffed out, with spikey bangs curling in on my forehead. My sapphire eyes were made up dramatically in dark blue and silver, rimmed completely in black liner, and framed with mascara-ed lashes that resembled thick, black fur. My prominent cheekbones were a deep rose. My plush lips and long fingernails were blood-red, matching my belt and shoes. The scent of Shalimar wafted gently on the night breeze as I strutted regally to the car with the other girls. after a few minutes drive, I realized that Cybil was taking me back to the same club where we had met.
I should have been panicked; everyone there knew me well. Yet I felt supremely confident and self-assured. I instinctively knew that no one would connect the ravishing beauty they were about to meet with the guy they had known before. I now was what I had always been meant to be, and I was prepared to make the most of it. I communicated all of this to Cybil with a glance and a smile. She understood immediately.
We had made a point to arrive towards the end of Happy Hour. It was early enough to get one of the big, semicircular booths near the dance floor and still catch a lot of the businessmen who had stopped by to socialize after work. No one showed me the slightest hint of recognition, not even waitresses who had known me by name for months. That doesn't mean we didn't get noticed; far from it. Every eye in the place, both male and female, tracked the four of us like radar all the way from the door to our table. I think our bar bill amounted to one bottle of champagne that night, and that was the first one. Once we established our preference, fresh bottles kept appearing at our table like magic for the rest of the evening.
We got up to dance shortly after the dance music program started; after all, we were there to have a good time. Of course, there was more to it than just fun - working girls are always "on", remember? The sight of four gorgeous foxes grinding their bodies to a pounding disco beat, as though they were making love to each other, is a powerful aphrodesiac. It is also a more effective introduction than any calling card ever devised by man. Sure enough, within twenty minutes our dance cards were full.
Business, as they say, was brisk. Our "girl's night out" took on the aspects of just another day at the office, with frequent trips by each of us out to the parking lot. True to his word, the valet never allowed us to be interrupted at an awkward moment. I was so impressed by his devotion to duty (not to mention his endowment), that I gave him his "tip" two hours before closing. On the other hand, I did make sure he had my "business" number; an occasional freebie for promotional purposes is fine, but business is business. The same is true for those gentlemen who bought us really good champagne; it is pricey when you buy it in one of those places, and we were there primarily to have a good time. We showed them one in return, but before they left they had our phone number and first-hand knowledge of the kinds of services we provided.
Shortly before last call I heard a familiar voice ask me to dance. I looked up, and my heart skipped a beat. I knew this guy! His name was Ken. We hadn't exactly been best friends, but we had gone drinking together often. Yet here he was COMING ON TO ME, as though he had never seen me before in his life! I glanced sideways and caught Cybil's eye. We spoke volumes with just that one glance; I saw that she understood what was happening. I looked back at him, flashed him my very best come-hither smile and said yes.
As we danced, I played coy, pretending he was a complete stranger. We went through introductions and some small talk, and I think he caught on to what we were. At that point I really turned up the heat on this guy. I had always thought he was good-looking; now, I found him really attractive. That always makes the job easier. I did my very best "Dirty Dancing" routine. I danced close with my hands on his hips, alternately grinding my pussy into his crotch and my tits against his chest. He placed his arm around me and held me as I leaned way back, my fingertips sliding down his arms. He pulled me up again, and I slid my fingers up his arms again, transferring them to the exposed flesh of his muscular chest. I twirled around so that we faced in the same direction. I arched my back and reached backward with my right arm so that my hand encircled his neck, my head rested against his shoulder, and my ass nestled against his crotch. I swayed my hips back and forth to the slow, hypnotic beat, grinding my ass against his massive hardon. I could almost hear him sweat, and his hands encircled me and ran upwards to fondle my tits, then downwards to feel my pussy. I knew at that moment that I owned him. I also knew he would make the obvious play at any momemt. I was ready for him.
"Karissa, I'm so hot for you right now that I'm
about to come in my pants. Let's go someplace
more private and talk about it."
"Gee, Honey, I don't know. It's late, I have
to work tomorrow, and we're going to need
a lot of time to do it right."
"Then I would have to make it worth your while,
wouldn't I?"
Gotcha. Two thoughts flashed through my mind in quick succession:
-
This guy is worth BIG bucks, and
-
He has never been to my home. He would
have no idea who I was, or had been.
The decision was obvious.
"In that case, Sugar, I think we can work something
out. Let me just excuse myself from my roommates,
then we can go back to our place. It's just a few
minutes away. They won't disturb us when they get
home. Unless, of course, we want them to."
I led him back to our table and told the girls that Ken would be taking me home, that we had some business to talk over. I flashed them a smile and a big wink, then let him lead me towards the door. As we walked away from the table, I glanced back, and saw Cybil mouth the words "I told you so." The valet brought Ken's Porsche around. Ken tipped him and got in. I waited for the valet to come around and get my door. When he did, I surreptitiously massaged his re-aroused dick, gave him a smile and a wink, and mouthed the words "Call Me." Then I got in the car, and we were gone.
Where should I begin? Business has been great; so much so that the four of us have decided to extend our relationship indefinitely. I made my own decision a while back; I now have a real pussy and a 34-D bustline. Ken is still a good friend and valued client. He steers a lot of business our way, so I allow him to take me out from time to time. He knows all about me now, and certainly knows what I do for a living. Instead of being turned off, he says he thinks I am the most exciting woman he has ever known. I think I'll keep him around for a while; this might have potential if I ever decide to retire. I'm not ready to do that just now; I'm still having too much fun. Cybil, Ginger, Monica, and I are just like family. We share thoughts, feelings, emotions. There is a lot of love here. Speaking of love, you will have to excuse me; I have a standing date with a gorgeous redhead and a very large dildo.
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