Beatrice: A Whore is Born

It was fair to say Miss Buxomly was taken with the young fellow almost right away. A boy her own age, or close enough. Couldn't have been more than nineteen, twenty, twenty-one at the most. Short, messy blond hair, and a light beard of an almost reddish yellow color. Tall and handsome, with high cheekbones and a strong, chiseled jawline. Beautiful blue eyes the very same color as hers.

And that smile. Oh how it made her swoon. How her girlhood tingled when she gazed upon his pearly whites. He had particularly good teeth for a commoner.

She had always believed in live at first sight, and she believed she had found it.

The young man's name was Beau Clark, and he had been hired as Beatrice's new rising instructor. Beatrice was about as pretty as a Southern debutante could be. Flowing, curly golden locks, skin pure as the driven snow, with many delightful freckles adorning her nearly flawless face. She was a very well-endowed young woman, blessed in both bosom and bottom, and she knew it very well. As unlikely as it sounds, she was one of four quadruplets, all equally stunning, one being a brother, the other two sisters.

Beatrice had come of marrying age just last month, and her father, the patriarch of the wealthy Buxomly plantation family, was already setting her up with men twice her age that she had no interest in. He wanted her to marry for material gain, whereas she was more interested in physical qualities, and personality as well, of course. Somewhat. To an extent.

However, this boy Beau good be mean as a wildcat and she would still be have it bad for him. He was just her type. He was her dream man. She knew how dreadfully inappropriate it was, but she simply could not resist Beau's boyish charms. Surely, she it would not matter if she pursued a harmless summer fling with the boy? Nothing too extreme, maybe a kiss here and there. As long as no one were to find out, she could indulge in a little girlish fun.

However, there was a certain flaw, if you could call it that, that all women of Beatrice's bloodline carried. All Buxomly women were cunning, clever, charming, sharp, and stunningly beautiful. However, they also lacked restraint. They were all infamously brazen. They spoke their minds, and were rarely, if ever, subtle in their wishes and desires. They acted on impulse, and thought little of consequences, especially regarding matters of, shall we say, "affection." The lovely ladies of the Buxom blood line had a long history of letting certain carnal temptations dictate their minds and bodies when interacting with an attractive individual they found themselves fond of.

To put it plainly, the Buxom women were shameless and insatiable whores.

And Beatrice was certainly no different. The problem was Buxomly women aren't exactly aware of this little genetic quirk that they all carry, and it is usually up to a family member, usually a woman who could guide them, to explain their little family flaw. However, this particular branch of Buxomly's was quite isolated in the Southern rural countryside. Beatrice's mother was not of the bloodline, and her boorish father was an obnoxiously ignorant man, so Beatrice and her poor sisters would have to figure it out the hard way.

And Beatrice would be the first into the fire.

Beatrice was helped up onto her horse by the strapping young Beau, who she was sure to give a very road smile as he pushed on her from her bottom to get her up there. Beatrice blushed when she felt pressure on her buttocks.

"Thank you, my dear Mister Clark," she said with a girlish giggle.

"Sure thing, ma'am, now, let's get you goin'," he said, climbing up onto his own horse.

She batted her eyes at the boy, but he seemed not to notice as he led her on. Beatrice let out a sigh as she followed along. The man, as stunningly handsome as he was, was quite naïve. He didn't seem to ever catch on to the signs Beatrice had been throwing his way. Normally, a woman her age would be accompanied by their mother or family member when she was in the company of a man to make sure nothing frisky occurred. However, her mother was a useless drunk and her father was a fool, so she was left unchaperoned with this good looking boy.

Combine that with a beautiful woman of the buxomly bloodline, so famously lacking in carnal restraint, and disaster was sure to follow.

Beatrice had tried everything she could to get the man to take an interest in her, but he was either too pure for this world or a bit dimwitted. Either way, Miss Buxomly would to make her fondness for him even more painfully obvious, it appeared. She decided to just be honest with him. It was very unladylike and shameful, especially for a woman in a position as high as hers, but she simply didn't have the patience for all this nonsense. It would be humiliating if h her, but how could he ever manage to do that? She was pretty as a peach and had the figure of a Greek goddess. There was no refusing a woman of her physical caliber, not unless the man was a homosexual.

As they rode along the dirt trail, she kept ahead so Clark could observe and study her posture. It was a beautiful summer day in the humid state Louisiana. Sweating was an inevitability. After a couple minutes of riding, Beatrice spotted a large tree offering plenty of shade.

"Let's stop there for a rest. I'm quite tired," Beatrice said, pointing over in its direction.

"Sure thing, ma'am," nodded Clark.

The couple came to a stop under the tree, and Beatrice climbed off her horse and tied it around the base. Clark did the same, then wiped the sweat off his forehead.

"Whew, steamy day today, ain't it?" he said.

"Oh yes, very steamy," Beatrice said, revealing her hand fan and waving herself off.

She watched Clark looking in his saddle bags for some water. Beatrice let out a sigh and crossed her arms across her bountiful breasts.

"Where did you say you were from, Mister Clark?"

"Missouri, ma'am," he said, fetching his canteen of water and taking a swig.

"Missouri, huh? Tell me, is every man there as thick as you are?"

He lowered the flask and gave Beatrice a curious look. "What do you mean, ma'am?"

"I mean, I don't think I could make it any more obvious that I fancy you if I tried," she said, venturing closer and placing both hands on her hips.

"Wait, say what?"

"You're a very handsome man, Mister Clark. I would very much like if we could see more of each other." A mischievous smile crept up her lovely lips, as she edged closer to the stunned man.

"But, but," Clark stumbled.

"We could have some fun together, you know," she said with a charmingly girlish giggle, letting her hands hang at the sides of her pink, decoratively floral dress. "Nothing too extreme, I am an unmarried woman, after all. But perhaps we could share an innocent kiss here and there. Some flirting, maybe even a peek or two up my skirts? Whaddya say?"

Beatrice was now standing right in front of Beau, her lips mere inches away from his. She threw her hair back, and placed both hands on his trembling shoulders, slowly curling them around his neck. He said nothing, but he didn't need to. Beatrice had him in his clutches. He was puddy in her hands. She could see it all over his handsome face.

"I'll take your silence for a yes," she said again with another cheeky chuckle, then she leaned in, and planted her lips on his.

"So this is what a man's lips feel like. Feels nice," she thought to herself.

She had always been a very curious girl.

As Bridget was giving the boy her very first kiss, she began to feel... strange. She had told herself there would be only kissing, and had even told Clark that, but she felt a strong heat emanating from her loins. Her breasts grew very sensitive, her nipples hardening and standing upright. There was a growing wetness between her legs, and her mind falling into an amorous haze. She found herself deepening her kiss with the boy, instead if pulling away after a few seconds like she initially intended.

"W-what's happening to me? Why can't I...what's going on? Why do I feel this way?"

She felt like she was outside herself, only able to witness the actions her body was making. She found herself sticking her tongue into Beau's mouth, am involuntary moan escaping her lovely, luscious lips. Her hips began to sway all on their own, and instinctively took hold of Beau's hands and guided them to her perfectly rounded ass.

"N,-no! This isn't what I wanted! This is, this is too much! Why can't I stop myself?" Beatrice asked herself, her moans growing louder and more wanton.

Beatrice's first experience with her family's flaw had officially begun. Her whorish genetics had been triggered, her shameless, lustful instincts taking over and dominating her mind and body. The table had already been set. It was already too late to turn back.

Beatrice didn't know it yet, but her efforts to control herself were utterly futile. Unless an act of God occurred, her virginity would be taken right her and now, under this very tree.

And God had no interest in intervening.

Beau tightened his grip on her ass, giving her a good, strong squeeze. Beatrice moaned like a common harlot, utterly unable to control herself as her womanhood grew wetter and wetter.

"Mmmmm," Beau broke the kiss himself, looking back into Beatrice's misty eyes with a wild grin. "Why, miss Buxomly, I had no idea you were such a naughty little thing."

Beatrice just stared back at him with an almost intoxicated expression, her once intelligent mind crumbling under the pressure of her own inner slut.

"I, I," she stumbled with her words, breathing hard and heavy.

"Okay, tell him you want to stop! Tell him we're all done!" her rational mind demanded, fighting desperately as hard as it could against her lusty desires. "Say it! Say it, you dumb, silly girl!"

"I want, I want," Beatrice shook and trembled in her lover's strong, masculine embrace with her large breasts pressed up against his chest. She felt something poking against her leg, looking down to see Beau's erect manhood rubbing up her thigh. Her jaw fell slack, her mouth watering with want and desire. At last, she spoke again. "I, I want your cock, Beau. I want to feel your cock inside my cunt."

"W-what?! No! What is this? I don't speak like that! Am I losing my mind?!?!"

She let out a sharp gasp when Clark let out an aroused roar and tackled her into the grass. She lay on her back, arms sprawled out over her head, looking into the blue sky while Beau's strong hands hiked her up floral dress, bunching it around her curvy waist, then taking a firm grasp of her bloomers and pulling them down her long, slender legs. All the while, Beatrice cooed and sighed pulling her bodice apart and loosening her corset.

"No! No! I can't do this! We can't do this! I'm going to ruin my life!"

Just as before, the protests of Beatrice's rational subconscious had no effect as her inner genetic lust consumed her being. Beatrice drew her corset apart and her perfect breasts popped out into the fresh air. With her bloomers discarded and her dress hiked up, Beatrice's blonde bush and teenage vagina were staring Beau right in his face. Beau admired the incredible sight for a moment before he took his place between her bare legs, nuzzling his head against her pillowy tits.

"For the love of God, stop this madness! Stop right- Oh God!"

Another sharp gasp escaped Bridget's soft lips as Beau pressed his cock into her wet folds and forced his way inside her tight, virgin cunt. Contrary to what she been told, the experience resulted in almost no pain as she was penetrated for the first time. A small, searing sensation was all there was, quickly overpowered by a tidal wave of carnal pleasure. Beau groaned as he sank his prick deeper and deeper into Beatrice's young vagina. Beatrice's mouth fell open, her lips taking the shape of a of a long, ovular "O." Her eyes rolled up into her head, and Miss Buxomly moaned like the little whore she was always meant to be. The next second, she felt him come to a stop deep inside her, his tip bumping against her cervical gates.

It was over. Beatrice's cunt had been claimed, and with it, her virginity. Her body had given into lust, and her mind was soon to follow.

"He's, he's inside me... Beau's manhood is inside me. My maidenhood, it's gone... but this, this feels so good! He feels so big inside me. So big inside my pretty pussy..."

It was then Mister Clark began to pump in and out of her soaked sex. He grimaced as he did, for Beatrice's heavenly vagina was snug, slick, and so very warm. Beatrice moaned shamelessly loud, unable to help the slutty sounds from leaving her body. Her big breasts bounced up and down in time with Beau's thrusts. He took one of her tits into his mouth, sucking lovingly on her pink nipple. Beatrice's subconscious mind was swimming, becoming corrupted while her beautiful body was plundered and defiled by the handsome young man. Her cunt was on fire, clenching Clark's cock good and hard as he sawed in and out of her.

"This, this is sex? I can't believe.. how good this feels. They told me it would hurt so bad. Why do I feel so good? Am I, am I just that much of a dirty hussy? Fuck, what a nice cock..."

Then she felt something truly amazing. Her body shook and convulsed, her cunt clenching even harder than before as indescribable sensations of pure ecstasy shot through her sexy little body. Beatrice's head fell back, hair in the dirt and grass, feminine juices spurting out around the sides of Beau's dick stuffing her tight twat. Her first climax was violent and totally unrestrained. Bridget's eyes glazed over in absolute and total bliss, what was left of her mind crumbling into dust while she looked at the world upside down.

"I, I, my cunt, it's, it's...Uhhhhhnnnnnnn..." were the last thoughts through Bridget's subconscious before her mind turned numb.

Bridget's mouth hung open while she moaned like a whore, eyes rolling up and drifting away and out of focus.

"Fuck, your snatch is so tight, Miss! So very tight!"

Beatrice cooed and cried, her breasts bouncing all over she began to unconsciously buck her hips against his. He pumped the little slut for all she was worth, the sounds of wet smacking skin and Beatrice's shameless, wanton moans echoing throughout the woods. Then, Bridget's parted lips curled upwards into a lewd, crooked shape, forming a mindless, open mouthed grin. Her head was empty, her body acting all on its own. She lifted her bare legs high into the air, exposing every inch of her creamy skin that she possibly could. Another lady of the Buxom blood line had fallen victim to the infamous family flaw.

Beatrice was nothing but a pretty little slut, just like every Buxomly bitch. Slaves to their carnal desires.

Complete and utter whores.

Beatrice was the first sister to learn the truth about her nature, but the others would learn soon enough. Beau simply couldn't help himself, and instead of pulling out, he came inside the loose young hussy. A sweet, pleased sigh escaped Beatrice, shaking and savoring the sensation of Beau's thick semen spilling into and pooling inside her fertile womb. Whether or Beatrice had been impregnated by Beau's fresh seed, only time would tell, but one thing was for certain.

Beatrice Buxomly would never be the same. She had blossomed from a naughty, cheeky girl into a full-blown, beautiful whore.

Her destiny as a woman of the Buxomly bloodline has been realized at the tender age of eighteen, before marriage, even. Some Buxomly women are late bloomers, but all realize their slutty selves eventually. Truly, she would stand as a staple of their shameless lineage. She had taken her rightful place in a long line of impressive harlots, whores, and hussies.