My Brief Career as a Whore

by

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/Fa, Lesbian, Spanking, Humiliation, Gang Bang, .

Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Natalie wats romance from Warren; he wants to make money off of her.

INTRO: ME, NATALIE

My name is Natalie Klimek, and I'm almost, just almost ashamed to write this but I've set this narrative as my penance, and I will carry it through. I'm determined. I guess that I should proceed by telling about myself.

(I've read enough of these stories to know that at this point I'm supposed to say that I'm sitting here in my chair in front of the computer screen either naked, or wearing a black thong with the back string tucked between my ass cheeks, a black push up bra, showing my nipples, black stockings, only thigh highs, and black heels. Sorry, in fact I'm wearing a pair of men's cast off plaid pj bottoms and a tee shirt--no, I don't know if my nipples are poking out agains the fabric--and I'm drinking warm milk, and not wine or scotch.)

Okay, I will apologize now because you shouldn't have to put up with bad attitude on my part. I've set myself the task of writing an expose' of a part of my life, of writing it as a penance, kind of, and I promise not to go on being as grumpy as this started out.)

Again then: my name is Natalie Klimek and I'm going to tell the story of how I became, for a time, well, a whore, really a slave. Yes, I used the words because it aptly describes exactly what happened to me.

It would be nice for me to be able to tell you a tale about being forced, beaten and submitting with appropriate crying, sobbing and wailing, of doing unwilling nasty things. It would be nice but it would also be untrue. I acknowledge that up front!

So, how does a woman like me get to be a whore? You ask. But you don't know anything about a 'woman like me'; so, maybe that's what I'd better do next. Tell you.

I'm presently 28 years old, and am a high school teacher. I come from, in my family, a very successful group of business people. My poppa and my uncle Ned have built a business that is both famous and prosperous. I was, however, intent on making my own way. Teaching attracted me, and so, here I am. Uncle Ned, my favorite, has always said that he had a place for me, especially after Poppa and Momma died. It's nice to have that kind of ace in your pocket.

But I wanted to teach and was quietly encouraged at the time by the family. I got a teaching job in a small city that was miles away from home, a kind of independence declaration on my part.

But me: I promised to tell you about me, and I guess I mean physically.

(Sorry, I'm not very experienced at this 'personal confession' stuff! I'll try to get it better! Promise!)

So here it is: I'm 5'6" tall, kind of medium height. I have dark hair that has a kind of reddish shine to it, if you see it in the right light. I weigh 125 lbs, a and try to keep myself in shape.

(My Mom, one of the most wonderful women I ever knew, had a big ass and I work at not imitating Mom in that way. Thus far, I'm successful! Just wait though, maybe.)

My lovely butt, I at least think it is, is set off by a pair of 38c breasts, my best feature, I'm sure.

I try to remain athletic to keep my weight under control, and have been a runner for many years.

I usually don't dress sexy, have never liked that style though I can, if I want.

Don't have a current boy friend, though I did have a steady in college but he turned out to be an abuser and, after taking his abuse for a while, I was happy when he went on to others, and left me behind. He seemed to lose interest in my, as soon as getting me to 'obey'--his word--was no longer a challenge. I've stayed pretty much away from men since then.

And, no, I'd not been attracted to women, though I will admit to an open mind about that subject, as you will see.

I have a keen interest in chemistry, my subject and enjoy teaching. My classes at the high school, for the most part, are students who are aiming for college and are much less of a discipline challenge than might otherwise be the case.

I have my own small house and enjoy my life of freedom from the strictures of the money class that I come from.

Yes, and one more introductory thing: the whore thing, I mean the willingness and all. You may well ask! It goes back, as far as I can tell, to the thing with the Abuser in college. (I'm sure that I can trace it back to childhood games with boys and friends, but I don't want to!) Anyway, one thing that impressed me, when I allowed myself to think about it, was how tingly, how very alive it felt to be ordered around, even by the cretin in college. Being a slave to the Abuser set the stage for my career as a whore. Strange but true!

I simply tried to let that kind of thought, the slave thought, lie and not dwell on it, or let it invade my thinking very often, after all, he was a thing of the past, and I was content in the present.

And so, contentment, teaching, enjoying it! All of that. But you want to know about the whore issue.

Well, there was Warren Baines. He was in one of my chemistry classes. And I'm sorry to be really romantically female about this but he had the most gorgeous eyes in the world. They were a kind of violet, and I was sure that Warren had all the women, all the pussy--as the contemporary slang would have it--that he could handle. I was more than half way in love with his eyes but kept that to myself.

My actual time as a whore, a whore for Warren, this huge thing that I'm writing about, started maybe innocently, at least on my part, if not on his.


WARREN

It was a later afternoon. I had no plans for the evening and stayed to look over my plans for the rest of the week and grade some papers. A knock on the door interrupted my progress.

"Come in," I said, and was please, that tingle again, to see that it was Warren.

(If I had an ounce of sense, which I admit that in all these situations that I'll relate, I did certainly not have, I'd have been on my guard.)

"Warren!" I said pleasantly.

"If you don't mind, Ms Klimek," he said, "I need some help with those chem problems from this week."

"Sure," I said, "Glad to help."

His look was just intense, and I spent the next few seconds staring at his eyes. They were wonderful. I only broke off when he said:

"Ms Klimek?"

He had a smile on his face, and the smile along should have told me that I was in trouble but I was not on my guard at that time, and was only enjoying his eyes.

"Ms. Klimek?" he said again.

"Sorry, Warren," I said, giggling a little. (A trait that I admit to!) "I was looking, er, at your eyes."

I stopped then and said: "I don't know why I said that! Sorry, Warren! Yes, the chem problems."

Warren was looking at me and smiled. His manner had changed, and I was suddenly nervous. As I stood to lead him out to the room to the board, I tried to identify the nerves, and it suddenly hit me:

"He was making me feel like the Abuser had!"

I knew immediately that the feeling wasn't all bad either. It kind of swept over me. Warren just watched; he seemed to know what my struggle was and only smiled that smile but one thing was true, right then, things had changed, the dynamic was different. It was almost as if I had allowed myself to be shoved back into an old way of thinking.

(That's the best way that I can describe what had come over me.)

I made an instant decision to ask Warren to come back the next day, so that I could get myself under control, but he intervened then, and it all started. By the time Warren spoke to me, I was in no shape to defend myself or refuse to do anything he asked of me.

(I don't know if any or many of you can relate with this kind of sudden mind frame but it was there, and suddenly and totally as strong as any time with the Abuser! It was that powerful. In the end, I just stood there by my desk and waited for whatever he was going to say to me. I've had that feeling at other times but it was only the Abuser that really acted on it. There have been times, when I'd get sharp looks from men, and, yes, even women at times, who seemed to know about the power that they potentially had but they didn't act on it. In those situations, I was left only with a kind of breathless feeling and wonder about what might have occurred.)

Then he spoke and it kind of began.

"Ms Klimek," he said quietly but confidently, "Natalie."

"Yes, uh, Warren..." I said in answer, only just refraining from adding the 'sir'.

He gave a short laugh. I knew that he was aware of what I'd almost called him. But I stood and waited for him, for him to do or say something. He was in control. So quickly, so completely. I was both taken over and aware of it having happened.

"Yes, Natalie," he went on, with me giving him rapt attention."Be a good girl and raise your skirt to your waist."

Normally it would have been the tipping moment for him, when it would work or he'd be in trouble. I guess for him it provided a kind of rush. But that was all past, said and done. It was as if we both realized that he had this hold over me. I merely stared into his violet eyes, and shook my head 'yes' and then had the worst thought in the world.

I suddenly had tears in my eyes and I had to speak, to talk, to explain. So, with tears streaming down my cheeks I pleaded with him:

"Warren, sir,"--I used it now and we both felt the correctness of the address--"Sir, I am so, so sorry! My panties are cotton and have rips at the waist..."

Here I actually began to sob; it was that overwhelming. I forced myself to push on:

"Please, please wait until tomorrow and I promise to look nice, sexy, what you want. I'm not saying 'no'! I'm pleading for a chance to be nicer and better! Please!"

.... There is more of this story ...

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Story tagged with:
mt/Fa / Lesbian / Spanking / Humiliation / Gang Bang /