Becoming a Whore: Chapter Zero
by Plumbr
Copyright© 2026 by Plumbr
Erotica Sex Story: The immediate prior evening to NaturalHammer's "Becoming a Whore" Chapter 1. A somewhat sequel to "Innocent Emily" and "Hannah's Story".
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Drunk/Drugged Fiction Cheating Cuckold Slut Wife Rough Interracial Black Male White Female Indian Male Oral Sex Safe Sex Big Breasts Prostitution .
Based on Becoming a Whore Chapters 1-8 by NaturalHammer, and Innocent Emily and Hannah’s Story by Plumbr.
The half tablet sat on my tongue for a second before I swallowed. Bitter. Chemical. It coated the back of my throat and I almost gagged. Casba watched me. Quasim “Casba” Khan as he was first introduced to me in a Pakistani takeaway decades ago. Now, he was an entrepreneur from Cheetham Hill.
He did not smile. He just waited.
I swallowed.
Something started to loosen almost at once. The edges of the room went soft. Sound thickened. My skin felt too warm and too far away at the same time.
Michelle’s laughter was somewhere behind me and it seemed to come from a long way off. I looked at her and a thought tried to form. She had suggested the night out. She had smiled too easily when he sat down. She had stood up first. The thought slid away before I could finish it. My tongue felt heavy. My thoughts felt heavy.
I had been carrying something since I was eighteen.
The steamy windows of Mustafa’s takeaway on Cheetham Hill Road. The grey parochial school blouse that never buttoned right over my chest. Men looking. Always looking. Casba’s eyes the first time, going straight to my tits and staying there. The back room behind the bead curtain. The tacky table. The steel counter. His hand pushing my knickers aside like it was nothing. The way I bit my own wrist so no one would hear me come. The throb that started low in my belly and never really stopped.
I married Chris with that still inside me. I was on the pill the summer before our wedding, but thereafter I never needed to worry about birth control the usual way. His count was too low. We needed IVF just to get Claire. I was the fertile one.
I folded the old hunger down anyway. I kept my skirts long and my voice soft. Tonight the fold was coming open and I could not seem to care the way I should.
Michelle’s hands were on the Union Jack t shirt, pulling it down over my bare tits. No bra. The fabric stretched tight and cut under them. My nipples showed through dark and tight. I watched it happen like it was happening to someone else.
“Chrisss, Michelle,” I said. My voice sounded slow and thick. Did I say Chris, or Christ? “It’s tight.”
“That’s the point.” She wiped dark lipstick across my mouth. “You ready?”
I looked at the mirror. The woman looking back had my face and did not. I felt myself nod.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m ready.”
She pushed the purse into my hand. I felt the weight of it. Foil packets. Condoms. A lot of them.
“You’ll need these. Use them.”
I nodded again. My fingers closed around the strap. Everything felt distant and close at the same time. The warmth between my legs was getting heavier. I could already feel myself getting wet. A lot.
They put me on the street with the others.
North Manchester pavement. The smell hit me in layers. The Rochdale Canal and River Irk. Fried onions. The same smell that used to cling to my hair after a Saturday at the takeaway. Cars crawling. Men looking.
The half tablet had turned my body soft and open. A slow heavy wetness gathered between my legs and soaked the thong until it clung. I could smell myself. The feeling was so strong it made my knees weak.
Michelle was further down the rank, talking, counting notes. I kept the purse against my side and tried to remember how to stand. My thoughts kept sliding.
A silver saloon stopped. The driver said a number. Michelle answered and gave me a push.
“In you go. Use one.”
The seat was warm. He had his cock out. I fumbled the purse open. My fingers felt thick and slow. I found a packet, tore it, rolled the condom down him. He pushed my head down. The head forced my lips open and slid over my tongue. I gagged. Spit ran in a thick string onto the shirt. He held my head and fucked my mouth. I let him. When he came the condom caught it. He pushed me toward the door.
I stepped out. My mouth was shiny. My eyes were watering. My cunt was throbbing so hard I had to stand still for a second.
“Y-you used it?” Michelle’s voice came from somewhere near.
“Yeah,” I said. The word felt heavy. “I usshed it.”
The next car. Michelle took the money. He wanted me over the back seat with the door open. I got another packet out. My hands were clumsy. He watched me roll it on. Then the skirt was up, the thong aside, and he pushed into me in one go. Even with the condom the wet sound was loud. He fucked me hard. One hand on my neck. The other on my tit. My body took it and asked for more. I came without meaning to, a deep clench that forced more fluid out around the condom.
“I’m c-coming,” I heard myself say. The words came out thick and slurred. “Chrisss. I’m coming.”
He finished and pulled out. I stood up shaking. My thighs were shiny with my own slick. The need had not gone down. It had got worse.
“You’re doing fine. Fix your skirt.”
“It’s a messh,” I said. “I’m a messh.”
“I know. Fix it anyway.”
I fixed it. In the alley the brick was cold against my palms. I got another condom out. He took me from behind. Every thrust forced that wet rhythmic sound out of me. He rubbed my clit and I came again, harder, legs shaking. When I straightened the need was still there, low and heavy and open.
“Th-thank you,” I said to his back. Then to Michelle, “How many more?”
“As many as there are. You’re doing fine. Keep using them.”
I do not remember every face. The pill made the spaces between things soft and wide. I remember the bonnet of a car, cold under my hands. Two of them. I made the first one wait for the condom. The second one I managed between them. One in my mouth, one in my cunt. Shirt rucked up. My tits hanging and swinging. Fingers in my arse. Spit dripping from my chin. I said thank you when they told me to. The words came out slurred and far away.
“Th-thank you.”
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