Chapter 5: 1981-82 Professional slut

Part 1: Plans for return

At the end of my 1980 month in France we had a long chat about the future and particularly about my possible return next year. They were delighted to offer me a place next summer and suggested I come for six weeks next time. Over our last night glass of wine in the moonlight on the terrace, they gave me an envelope full of French Francs and, laughing, told me that made me a hooker now. The joke became a bit more serious when they said I could come again next year and there would be no charge but they would keep any money they made from renting me out, but not to worry they would give me a small allowance for pocket money! They said now they knew what I liked and what I needed they would be better organised for my time with them. They would try to book everything in advance, but of course would allow time for a weekly visit to the dunes for me!

Back home, back into my loving relationship with Matt and my desperate urges to do disgraceful things under control and satiated, I focused on my last year at school and increased my efforts to get into university in 1981. It was only as summer approached that my excitement began to rise So by the time I finally left school that summer, and then left lovely Matt for another six weeks, I was ready to become, unknown to him or anyone else, my French version of Fuck Slut.

You have to remember back in those days there was no email, no cell phones, no internet, only fixed landlines, so difficult as it was I had managed a couple of long telephone conversations with Francine to agree the plans for my arrival. Her instructions were clear and very explicit. I should bring no clothes with me, just what I travelled in; I should not wear any underwear when travelling; I could bring nothing with me but one small handbag containing my birth control pills, my passport, my travel tickets, and some cash.

So, after leaving home with my big backpack of clothes, shoes, toiletries, and cosmetics, on my back, my first stop in London was the long-term left luggage office where I booked my bag in for six weeks. Bra and panties had been removed in the ladies’ toilets at the station, and stuffed into the side pocket of my ruck sack, before I checked it in. Wearing just a simple summer dress with sandals and clutching my small handbag I boarded the train in London to start my tedious journey to Bordeaux. Summer of 1981 had started and I was prepared for the next six weeks of whatever debauchery they had planned for me - I was excited and scared.

Part 2: the journey

From London to the coast and crossing the Channel, I remained calm, but once on the French train to Paris I very soon began to masturbate, recalling the degenerate life I had led a year ago and speculating on what I might be called upon to do this year. With just a lightweight dress and no underwear it was very easy to access my pussy and I passed a pleasant few hours under my own fingers, discretely fingering my clitoris.

The train from Paris to Bordeaux had old carriages with compartments so it was a slow journey, there was still no high-speed train on most of the route. I had the carriage to myself for a while as there was only one other reserved ticket on display facing me, so I managed to put my feet up and masturbate more energetically than had been possible on the train to Paris. I had just given myself a lovely small orgasm as we started to pull into a station, so I put my legs down, sat up straight and waited to see what would happen.

A man in his mid-40s came into the compartment, said bonjour and sat in the reserved seat opposite me. We did not talk but I was feeling quite frisky and wanted some fun. After about 30 minutes of plotting, I leaned my head against the window and pretended to drop off to sleep. As my sleep seemed to get deeper, I wriggled a bit to get comfortable and “unconsciously” slid down in the seat, pushing my dress nearly up to my crotch. I gave him time to appreciate my legs for a while, before gently moving again for comfort and letting my legs fall apart, one knee touching his in the narrow compartment. Once more giving him time to stare at my now revealed shaved pussy, I began to “wake up”. As I woke up, I yawned and stretched my arms which of course lifted the dress yet again. I opened my eyes and looked across at the man opposite me and gave him nice smile, my knees still “unknowingly” apart and dress still pushed up. I began to chat to him but he seemed unable to concentrate and was nervous. At last, I looked down at his trousers to see a huge swelling in the front. I looked away but then looked back, but this time looking very directly and obviously at his erection. I licked my lips a couple of times, then leaned across and lightly placed my fingers on his swollen package, and very quietly said “that must be very uncomfortable” and gave him a small smile.

I stood up and holding my hand out to him, said I am going to the toilet, do you want to come with me and see if I can make you more comfortable?” He took my hand and I led him down the corridor to the toilet and very quickly squeezed us both in. I simply took hold of the bottom of my dress and pulled it over my head and off. I let him grab my tits and my bum as I unzipped his trousers before pushing them down with his underpants as well. I pushed him down on to the toilet seat before swinging my leg over to straddle him, and lowering my naked body on to his erect and newly released penis. I moved up and down on him as he chewed my nipples and fondled my bottom, before he delivered a very large load of cum into my welcoming vagina. As we sat there with him relaxing inside me, I gave him a long slow kiss and muttered “merci monsieur.” Until there was suddenly a loud knocking on the door and somebody telling us to hurry up! I giggled and he, embarrassed, tried to detach himself from me, and pull his pants and trousers up. I calmly pulled my dress over my head and equally calmly opened the door. I took his hand and we stepped out into the corridor.

Three people were standing outside and I gave them all my sweetest smile and said “desole” (Sorry). My man kept his head down and followed me back to the compartment, where I sat him down in his seat. I went to my seat but lifted my dress up so I was not sitting on it, before sitting and raising my feet to put one each side of him. I lifted my dress well clear of my pussy then using both hands pulled my labia open to show him his own cum oozing out of me on to the seat. “That’s all you” I smiled at him.

We stayed like that for several minutes until I stopped leaking and then he leaned forward and gently stroked my pussy and rubbed my clitoris, before changing seats to sit beside me and continuing to masturbate me, as he whispered “You need a reward too”. I pulled the leg nearest to him up so my foot was on my seat and his arm went around it to continue fingering my now even more available pussy. I turned my face to his and we started one long never-ending kiss until, nearing Bordeaux, he began to speed up his movements and my stomach began to flutter.

My loins were aching and my own release was imminent and urgently required. I do not squirt every time but when I do it seems to deliver copious amounts of my vaginal fluids in a gush, and this time was no different. As my orgasm triggered so did my squirt and a fountain crossed the floor to his seat opposite, then coated his hand and my thighs and mixed with the cum on my seat between my legs.

We kept kissing and rubbing while I calmed down, then we slowly stood up, and kissed again. Then he took a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and wiped his hand before offering it to me with a smile. I smiled back, took it and lifted my dress to wipe my thighs and give him one last look at my shiny pink pussy. He reached for it and once more started to rub and then inserted two fingers into me as I leaned in for another kiss. The train ground to a halt but we were one of the last to get off, both laughing as we took one last look at the mess we had left on the seats and the floor of our compartment. We walked down the platform with our arms linked, until I saw Pierre waiting at the gate, when I stopped and said “my friend is here”. “Friend or lover?” he said. “Both and my boss” I replied. He laughed and slipped a business card into my hand “if you ever have another boring train ride. Au revoir Cherie. Bon voyage,” At the gate Pierre embraced me and said who was that and smiling widely, I said “My first French fuck for nearly a year!

Part 3: my new regime

My six weeks in the summer of 1981 were better organised than my visit the previous year. When we got to the house, Francine greeted me like a long-lost daughter and said how pleased she was to see that I had dressed as instructed – she liked obedient students. I was naked now of course, as Pierre had stopped en route, taken my dress from me and then bent me over the hood of his car and fucked me hard and fast at the side of the busy main road. So, it was easy to obey instructions when you now had nothing!

That evening Francine outlined Little Slut’s agenda – I smiled when she called me that – first time for a year I had heard that name. They had allowed time for me to visit the dunes once a week (so six opportunities for debauchery) and indeed by week six I had built up a loyal following of perverts who wanted to gangbang an 18-year-old student.

There would be three more house parties here at their house where I would be the entertainment. The South African was holding another bondage and S&M party and again wanted the slave to be seriously abused. Then there were two other parties where as far as Pierre could tell they just wanted to fuck me. I had also been booked by the two lesbian women for another all-nighter.

There were also some bookings for Summer Nikki, the prostitute, as I was now called to explain my absence for most of the year to potential clients. There were four bookings when I first arrived but thanks to some clever selling by Pierre, I had ten by the time I left. Francine dressed me for the appointments, as I had no clothes, and the men gave me sealed envelopes with money which I gave to Pierre unopened. Clearly, they were making enough money out of me to buy clothes but also to forego my education fees as promised.

Part 4: 1982 Working girl

While French 1981 had been thoroughly enjoyable, it was very much the same as the previous year just more of it. Most of my thoughts that year were on finishing school at 18, going to a Northern university, worrying about Matt and what would happen when we were split up by hundreds of miles. In fact, Matt and I broke up amicably during my first term in 1981 because of the distance and a career move for him. Which was good in many ways because I decided as nobody knew me at university, I would not worry about my reputation and would just fuck with whoever took my fancy.

1982 when I was 19 and even more so 1983 when I was 20, were very different. Because of university term times I agreed with Pierre and Francine that I could come for two full months both years. Once again, no fees for me but they kept the money from my labours.

The big difference was I had my own car now and could drive down to SW France, but I still obeyed the rules and only took the dress I wore to travel, and I arrived naked both years. They talked me through their planned programme for me, but only after Pierre had fucked me within 20 minutes of my arrival, and his daily use of one or the other orifices was just a part of my routine for two months. In fact, that was becoming the issue with my whole time there – I did the dunes and the parties etc but it was not new and was less exciting. I needed something new, risky and degrading! Whether they realised or not, Summer Nikki the prostitute offered me a route to get that extra thrill and degradation. Summer Nikki bookings increased to at least two per week to start and three by my last week of 1982. I was becoming more like a real working girl every week I was there. With my own car I could get to the big cities Bordeaux, Bayonne, Biarritz without Pierre, although Francine still had to provide me with appropriate clothes and usually high stiletto heels.

In my third week of Summer 1982, I had three bookings on the same day for quickies in Bayonne. Obviously, Pierre was not just marketing my body to high Flyers but to anyone who wanted to book a hooker. This I realised was the slow slip into humiliation and degradation that I yearned for.

The first was a pick-up in a car in front of Bayonne station, where a man in his 60s picked me up in a large Peugeot estate. At least I did not have to negotiate the fee as it was all agreed in advance by Pierre. The man gave me the envelope with the money in it and then drove me to an Industrial estate ten minutes away. This was my first real street prostitute job as it was quick, unsatisfying, and degrading – in to the back of the car, five minutes of cock sucking, then fuck to quick finish and back to the station!

Two minutes after getting out of the first car, the next pulled up, and after exchanging the envelope of money, he drove me to a car repair shop just five minutes away from the station. He walked me past half a dozen working, coveralled, mechanics into a back office and proceeded to fuck me over and on his desk and sitting on his cock in his boss’s chair. Before we started, I pulled my dress off to keep it clean which gave him a thrill and seemed to be good value for his money as he played with my “titties” and stuck fingers in me. Eventually I found the best way to get him to cum was bending over his desk again, my high heels raising my pussy to the right height for him.

I was still naked and just about to put my dress back on when he opened the office door and called one of his mechanics to run me back to the station. The guy just stood there looking at me while I put my dress on, and then, as he started to walk me to his boss’s car, his boss called after me for everyone to hear “Great fuck babe – I will book you again - do you do anal as well?” “Do you?” said the mechanic as he drove me away. “Do I what?” I snapped. “Do anal, boss likes a nice ass fuck and he seems to like you so be good money for you next time.” I was about to say something different, but changed my mind and said “Tell your boss I do anal but agree the price with my boss next time he phones.”

Back at Bayonne station, I took a taxi to my third quickie of the afternoon in a small hotel 15 minutes ride away. I walked in and a receptionist, a woman of about 50, gave me a disgusted look as I asked for my client, before lifting the phone, dialling his room, and telling him his young lady had arrived. She sent me up to his room on the second floor. Thirty minutes late I came walking back down the stairs, my third load of semen of the day trickling down my leg. “I have not seen you here before” said the receptionist, who I realised now was the manager, obviously knowing what I was. “I usually go to bigger places than this” I smiled back at her “But your bed was very comfortable – nice and firm.” I walked out the door and down the road to the taxi rank opposite and went to the station. Pierre was waiting for me, so I gave him the envelopes and walked to get my car as he drove off in the opposite direction.

A few days later the hotel guy called the Nikki number to book an hour session each week until l finished my season. Same hotel, same time and same receptionist and same naked suck and fuck. From then on, each time I went to him, I smiled at her and started giving her little boxes of chocolates or sweeties and she started smiling back at me. On the third booking there I was just saying goodbye to her and leaving when she suddenly said “Do you want another client?” Surprised, “I said here?” “Yes” “Now?” “Yes” Thinking quickly I said “My man upstairs is a special friend of my “uncle” and has “mates rates” so I don’t know what to charge your man. Do you know the normal rate for local girls?” We agreed a price that sounded good to both of us and while she phoned his room, I dived into her toilet behind the office to clean up from the last load. She told me the room number and I went up – right next door to first guy – took his wad of francs and spent a pleasant hour with him.

I came back down and thanked her for the extra business. Then, on the spur of the moment, I said “I have five more bookings here with the same guy, one each week, same day and time, if you have any other clients who would like my company ... maybe,,, I cannot do it through my uncle as the money goes straight to him but if you make the bookings for me, I would happily give you say 20% of my fee”

We settled on 25% and agreed I would call on the morning of my bookings with the weekly guy to see if I had a booking with her. It turned out to be good business for both of us, two or three each time, not always hotel guests but room hourly bookings for her. Together with my regular booking, I even had time to sit chatting with her in her office between jobs. I told her I was English as she could tell from my accent, and came to “work” for my uncle every summer to pay my university bills, but usually in big hotels in Bordeaux or Biarritz, so never saw the money. I told her I was a bit naïve about the rates for this job. `Do you like being a prostitute” she asked. “Yes” I replied “I like sex with strangers.” When an hourly room guy asked the price for anal, she guessed a price and so I did it for that and so she started offering that service as well.

Of course, I had told Pierre and Francine to be honest with them and maybe sometimes I might need their help. I probably now had enough dresses to get me through but perhaps I might need to coordinate my bookings with their plans for me. They just seemed to be amused that I was sinking lower in to this seedy life. By the end of my summer, I had made a small amount of money and had quite a few men in that little hotel

Part 4: 1983 busy working girl

At the start of my 1983 summer, I called Annette, my hotel lady, to tell her when I would be back to work for my uncle but if she wanted to, I would like to work with her more if possible. She did and eagerly explained that she had given thought to getting more clients for me. I had asked Pierre and Francine if they could put in a new phone line specifically for me, which they grudgingly agreed to do and had it arranged ready for my arrival. I gave Annette the number and told her I could now work any day if it did not clash with existing bookings for my uncle and his clients.

The first day I had a client at the hotel I spent the afternoon with her filling in a diary with all the dates I already knew “uncle” had booked, and marking the dates when I would be booked into her hotel with the man from last year, so she knew roughly when I was free. And if she could get me a booking on a free day then she could fill the day up if she wanted – she laughed and said my god your pussy must need to go to university to recover from all the fucking you do here each summer. I laughed, and added “and my bum needs a rest too!” She looked shocked so I told her most of my uncle’s clients want anal as part of the deal, so if she could get more money by selling my ass then she should do it.

I started to keep a bookings diary back at the house with four columns Slut Fun (dunes etc): Slut slave bookings (parties etc) : Summer Nikki bookings (their pimping): Summer Nikki private work (hotels in Bayonne) An * meant anal was part of booking or activity.

A few days later Annette asked if I would do overnights – spend the night in the hotel with a client (12 hour job really). Sheepishly she said he wants anal as part of the deal. We checked dates and I said I will do it, but we needed to review all our prices and agree a price for as much as we could in advance. But not to worry about the anal I did it often enough now no to worry. The next day when I arrived for another client with Annette, she asked me if was interested in working at another hotel just down the road run by her cousin. Same deal and she would do all the bookings for both hotel jobs, but I should give her 30% as she had to split it with her cousin. Within the space of a week my private hotel prostitution career now had two venues, two hotel managers booking me, a 12 hour overnight booking next week for big money. Foolishly I was still fucking without a condom even though I was fucking multiple times every day – I was stupid I knew but I loved the feel of cum oozing out of me and sliding down my leg and the degrading spectacle that created for anyone looking at me.

Soon the sight of a now 20-year-old English university student, in skimpy summer dresses, skipping between hotels became a common sight for the watching taxi drivers at the rank between hotels. One day walking past the rank, a taxi driver whistled and waved me over. I leaned down to speak to him, giving him a view down my dress neckline, and the taxi behind a view of most of my bottom. “Looks like business is good for you” he leered, “Got time for a quickie?” I was shocked – was it so obvious what I was now doing? I told him I only did appointments but he persisted and when I asked him what he usually paid the local girls he knew I was hooked. After some token haggling, I climbed in beside him, took his money, and in return he quickly pushed my dress up to see my naked pussy and laughed as we drove off.

We only went a couple of minutes to a carpark behind a factory. In the back he said, so as he was undoing his jeans I also slipped into the rear seat, but took my dress off, as normal, to keep it clean. As he was already unzipped, I let him have a fumble with my bare tits and shiny pussy while I wanked his small cock to make it worth sucking then gave him a five-minute blow job. I finally laid myself out on his back seat and let him climb on to me for his fuck but I could hardly feel him in me. For a few minutes he pumped away and then shot into me. I got out of his taxi naked, grabbed some tissues from a box on the dashboard to wipe my pussy and then put my dress on, making sure not to have it under my pussy as he drove me back to the rank. As I got out, he said thanks and hope to have you again soon! He had taken up the last place on the rank, so, blushing profusely, I had to walk past all the taxi drivers to get to Annette’s hotel.