Biloxi Doxy Pt. 02

I'd never been to Doxies, although I'd heard about it most of my life. Hell, almost all my friends made claims to have lost their virginities there. The fact that those claims were made before we'd become sophomores in high school gave the lie to most of those braggadocious stories. Still, we all knew there was a lot of fucking going on there.

There were other "gentlemen's clubs" I'd been to for bachelor parties. Doxies pretty much fit the pattern. There was a main stage, some side stages and beautiful women working the crowd, trying to score drinks and tips. There was a bar in the back, where I sat at the darkest end, out of the light. I nursed a bourbon and water, turned down the advances of several "ladies", and watched the stages. Sure enough, the announcer introduced the "all-time favorite, Cherry!" to the main stage.

"Damn, she didn't even use a stripper name to hide her identity." There she was, but she wasn't stripping. She came out in the altogether. I saw that her mons was shaved; she'd always told me that she did that the night before I came home, just for me. She'd let it grow out while I was home. Now I knew she did it for the johns. I'd read once that whores did that because it made it easier to control lice infestations. "Just for me" she shaved the pussy that her marriage vows swore was just for me. Nothing was "just for me."

Her Omega Alpha tattoo showed boldly under the lights as she gyrated around the stage. Guys sitting stage-side waved bills at her, and she would kneel down, spreading her legs, flashing her vagina at them as she collected the tips. I could clearly see the "wink of the pink" from the back of the room.

I marveled at how beautiful my wife looked. My eyes watered, watching that perfect body flaunting itself to the raucous crowd. I felt humiliated in a way I hadn't at the OA house.

The bartender came over to see about a refill and saw my tears. "Yeah, that's some perfect ass Cherry's got, ain't it? I call it an Onion Ass, so perfect it brings tears to your eyes!" The bartender laughed at his old joke, then got serious when he saw I wasn't laughing. "You okay, fella?"

I wiped my eyes and downed the rest of my bourbon, signaling for a refill. "I lost my wife today, and that Cherry reminds me of her. How does one get to spend time with her?"

"Well, bad news," the man replied. "Cherry has to be booked at least a week in advance. She's our most popular Doxy. And believe me, she's well worth it." Great, another guy who's fucked my wife.

"There's no way? I'd pay double. Like I said, I just lost my wife and I really think it would help." I put a begging tone into my voice.

"Well, sometimes she takes customers overnight, but it's expensive. And you said, Double?" The bartender was picking up the phone. I confirmed my willingness to pay double. I'd cashed my check on the way home, and still have several thousand in my pocket.

I heard the bartender on the phone. "Yeah, the poor guy just lost his wife, and you apparently look a lot like her. He's willing to pay double for an overnight visit." He eyed me closely. "He doesn't look like a roustabout. He looks clean and refined. I think you'll like him." He winked at me.

He hung up. "She's agreeable, but it's $2500 for the night. That's double the regular fee." I counted over the money to him. "She's got two more customers but will be done by 10. She says it'd only until 5 AM though. She's got to get home. She's got some cleaning to do." Obviously she need to clean up for me, making the house seem lived in.

I agreed to those terms and spent the next two hours talking with my new friend. I learned that Cherry had been at Doxies for over three years and had been the most popular girl almost the whole time. I was lucky tonight, he told me. In the beginning she stripped regularly, but at this point she didn't need the advertising; as he had said earlier, she booked a week in advance. One of her johns tonight had fired off prematurely and she'd had extra time on her hands, so she decided to come down and give the club a treat. I was lucky to be there for one of the rare events. "That girl loves showing off that body. Hell, if I looked that good, I'd be showing it off, too."

"She didn't strip," I pointed out. "She just came out fully nude."

"Once she starts working, clothes just get in the way, she says. She screws, changes the sheets, showers, and she's ready to go. Why bother getting dressed? And why hide that body on stage? Its perfection is tease enough; I tell you." He grinned. "You'll see. It's 10. You can head on up. It's room #1" He pointed to a door just inside the hallway to the bathrooms.

The door was locked when I got to it, so I turned back to the bar and shrugged my shoulders. He reached under the counter, and I heard a quiet buzz. I pushed the door and it opened. I went up the stairs and found a hallway that ran the length of the building. Doors on both sides broke the long hallway at 10-foot intervals. As I walked down the hall, one door opened, and a young man bustled out. As I passed, I saw the narrow room contained a sink, a bed, and a dresser. A naked girl sat on the bed, smoking. She gave me a tired smile as I passed by.

#1 was at the end of the hallway. I knocked on the door and Cherry flung it open with a wide smile, that faded into shock as she saw my face. "Brian!" she screamed.

I pushed into the room, which was more than twice the size of the room I saw in the hall. It was a corner room, with several windows on two walls and cabinets along the inside wall. The bed had to be a California king, with just a bottom sheet on it. An open closet showed some costumes and leather outfits.

I heard Cherry behind me as I surveyed the room. She sobbed and said, "Brian, you can't be here. Please, let's go home and I'll explain. Please, I..."

I took her gently by the arms and moved her to the bed. I forced her to sit. I sat next to her. Softly, I said, "Explain it to me. Here. Explain it to me, here, now."

Cherry buried her face in her hands and wept, huge sobs racking her back. I tried again. "Take your time. I've paid for the night." I put my arm around her shoulders and hugged her to me. "Remember that first night? How much we talked that time. I'm the same guy. Talk to me."

She turned and hugged me, squeezing me tightly. "Oh, Brian. I can't lose you. Please, you must understand."

"Haven't I always? Just calm down and tell me your story." I gave her a gentle smile. She calmed down, and shyly returned my smile. Sitting there naked, she gave a shy smile. I had trouble maintaining my composure.

She got up and went over to a small refrigerator and grabbed two beers. She came back and sat next to me, handing one to me. We both opened them and took a swig.

She looked at me and said, "You have to know that I love you, Brian. I love only you. But I was getting so lonely with you gone, I found myself starting to fall under the sway of my boss at the insurance company. He was attentive to me and touchy and got me to go to dinner with him several times. Then one night he kissed me.

"I, I don't know why, I responded to his kiss. When he grabbed my breast, I was shocked out of whatever dream or fantasy that had possessed me. I pushed him away and ran."

She glanced at my face to see my reaction. I tried to show no emotions. She continued, "I ran to your mother. I ended up telling her about the Omega Alphas, about you and me, about my being a little sister to the whole frat. She asked how you'd dealt with that. I told her that you loved me and understood my needs. I told her how wonderful you are."

She drank from the bottle again and sat quietly for a moment. "Then she told me some things about herself, things that she had done when she was married to your father." She looked at me again, trying to gauge what I may already know. "And afterwards as well, when you and your brother were young."

I interrupted. "You mean when she whored at Doxies? She told me last night that she'd been number one here. Was this her room?"

Cherry actually laughed. "Yes, when I got this room, she came up and told me what good memories she has of this room, and wished me the best here." Here, she actually smiled at me.

"So," I said without any expression, "My mother told you about her days as a whore."

Cherry blanched a little at the word 'whore'. "Yes, she told me. She said that I was like her, that when we were left alone for too long it gets dangerous. She said we'd look for love without even knowing we were doing that. That's how I ended up in my boss's arms. She said that we had to avoid the emotional attachment of an affair. That would destroy our love, yours, and mine, before we knew it. She said she knew how to save our love."

She got up again and returned with a box of Kleenex. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose. "Your mother said that no matter how strongly we avoid temptation, we still have the sexual urges that would drive us into someone else's arms eventually. That if I wanted to avoid that, I'd need to get laid. Often. So, she sent me here. She said it wasn't any different than the frat house, that you'd understand. You do understand? Don't you, Brian? Please, understand!" She hugged me tightly to her naked body. And she looked up when she felt my body respond. "You do understand, don't you?" she asked hopefully.

I stood up and began taking off my clothes. "Well, it's my seventh anniversary and I've paid for the night with a whore who happens to be my wife. I might as well learn how good she is." I grinned. It hurt to grin.

Cherry looked at me hesitantly, then returned my grin and rushed to help me strip. Soon I was tonsil deep while I caressed her beautiful body. Before I erupted, I pulled out of her mouth and pushed her face down on the mattress. I spread her ass cheeks with my hand as I shoved my penis into her rectum. She screamed and begged for a lube. I told her my wife gets lube, and continued pounding her as hard as I could, drawing all the way out and shoving all the way in each time. She cried but tried to respond to me. After I came in her ass, I told her to clean me up. She did. I told her to stop whimpering. It was all part of the job.

When I thought I was clean enough, I left her on the bed while I explored the room. She watched me with wet eyes.

Opening the cabinets, I found one with her coat and purse. The closet turned out to be full of costumes: schoolgirl, nurse, Supergirl, a nun, and others, as well as both submissive and dominatrix leather outfits.

One closet was filled with BDSM things: bondage straps, whips, sticks with large dildos attached, paddles and a really mean looking belt with studs. I held it up with my eyebrows raised in question.

Cherry swallowed back her tears and told me, "They're mainly for show. No one really hurts me with them. It's all fantasy."

The last cabinet had shelves of dildos, vibrators, and lotions, along with an impressive collection of different boxes of condoms. I held up a box. "Everyone has to use one," she told me. "Only you get me bareback."

I came back and sat down next to her again. "So, what does the whore do with her johns that my wife doesn't do for me?"

Again, I saw that she didn't like the word 'whore'. Well, I thought, too fucking bad.

"Nothing sexual. I do anything you want." Then I saw her thinking. "Well, DP's and gangbangs, things like that. You never wanted to share, even at the frat. I do things with multiple partners that we've never done." She frowned. "But that's your choice. I would and will do whatever you want."

I didn't bother to point out that what I wanted was a faithful wife. What would be the point of pointing that out?

"So, there's nothing you do, other than gangbangs, that you do for clients that you don't do for me?" I looked meaningfully at the closet of costumes and the BDSM cabinet.

Cherry blushed. "Well, yeah, the fantasy stuff. You've never needed that, so we've never done it." She smiled and hopped up on all fours on the bed. "But I can be a naughty schoolgirl or sexy nurse if you want?" She dropped her voice an octave. "Anything you want, sweetheart, I'm yours."

I wandered back over to the bondage straps. I picked up a couple. "How do these work?"

"Well, actually, you start with those cuffs hanging there," she pointed, "to bind my hands and ankles, and then use the straps to bind my upper arms to my thighs. That puts me in a position that my clients find properly submissive. Then they like to taunt me while whipping my behind." She wiggled that part seductively.

"That doesn't hurt?" I picked up a cat-of-nine-tails, and flicked it experimentally.

"It's only for show, sweetie. The clients know that they'd get in trouble if I'm hurt." She smiled at me. "You want to try it?"

"Okay. Sounds fun." I gathered the straps and pieces she pointed out, and she giggled as I tried to fit it on. Soon she was kneeling on the bed, resting forward on her forearms, hands and feet cuffed together and her thighs and upper arms immobilized. I passed on the cat-of-nine-tails and picked up a thicker single whip. I flicked it and it cracked, surprising me. I tried it again, and it cracked again. "Hey, now that's a whip!"

"That's not one for this type of fantasy, babe. Stick with the cat whip. It's sexier." Cherry sounded nervous now that she was strapped down.

"No, you're right. This isn't going to work." I went back to the cupboard. "We need something else."

I'd seen it in the back. It was just what the situation called for. When I pulled out the ball gag, Cherry's eye grew wide, and she started to protest. I calmed her down as I forced the ball into her mouth, tightening the strap behind her head. "We don't want to ruin the fantasy with unnecessary and distracting chatter, do we." I smiled at my lovely wife as I took my place behind her.

"You know," I played with the whip, getting a feeling for it. "I understood at the frat. I didn't like it, but I knew you did it for love." I made the whip snap again. It delighted me. "How you can equate that to whoring for money, I don't know. And how you can follow a whore who drove off her husband? You thought it would be different for us? That I would love being a cuckold?"

Her perfect ass and pussy were wonderfully displayed by this position. I could understand why her johns liked it. I gently flicked the whip at her ass. She jumped and moaned. A welt formed across her butt cheek.

"Sorry," I apologized. "That was probably harder than I intended." I reached forward and caressed the welt. I felt a ridge. "Sorry," I repeated.

"You asked earlier what I wanted. You'd be anything I wanted. Well, I wanted a faithful wife." The whip flashed across her flank. She jumped.

"I wanted a mother who wasn't a whore." Lash. "I wanted a wife who wasn't a whore." Whip, whip. "I wanted a wife who wasn't sleeping with my stepfather." Whip, whip, whip. "I wanted a life where everyone in town wasn't fucking my wife," lash, lash, lash, "and laughing at the stupid cuckold." The whip went again and again. Cherry was sobbing and screaming, but the ball gag was doing a great job.

"I want a wife who knows I was understanding about how lonely a childhood she had had and how she'd found a family with the fraternity. A wife who understood that I hadn't demanded she stop fucking all the brothers because we weren't married, and I thought I lose her if I had demanded she stop. A wife who understood how much I loved her." The whip flailed again and again during my tirade.

"I wanted the wife that agreed with me that marriage meant exclusivity, not one that would follow the example of a whore who chased off my father with her cheating. A wife that wasn't prancing naked on a stage for the fun of it. One that wasn't booked ahead a week any night of the week. A wife that hadn't laid as much pipe as the whole Biloxi Oil and Gas company." I was swinging the whip with abandon now, right, left, up and down.

I forget everything I said, but I know I went on for a while. I didn't stop because I ran out of things to say, as the frustrations I'd suppressed in college and the anger at the recent discoveries erupted from me like a volcano, hot and uncontrollable.

No, I stopped because my arm was so tired, I had trouble lifting it.

For the first time since I picked up the whip, I really looked at my wife. Welts cover her back, thighs and especially her perfect butt. I doubt it would ever be perfect again. Some lashes had broken the skin, leaving a lattice pattern across both cheeks. I didn't see how that wouldn't scar. I felt slightly sick looking at the results of my anger.

Cherry was weeping uncontrollably, in obvious pain. I knelt down by the bed and looked into her crying eyes. "Now, do you understand what I wanted?" I leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

"But I forgive you. You can whore all you want now if the customers still want your perfect ass." I walked over to the closet with her coat and purse. "But you are not welcome in my house." I took her keys from the purse and pocketed them. "Goodbye, Cherry. You might as well live here, although you might not warrant the number one room anymore."

I slipped out of the building. There were few people around in the middle of the night. I drove home and packed a foot locker and two suitcases with as much as I could fit in. There were countries in South America with no extradition and a great need for good mudloggers. There was nothing for me here now, no love, no family. Well, maybe my brother. But I thought that he'd probably slept with my wife as well. Everyone else had. Nothing remained for me here but the very real probability of a long jail sentence.

On the way out of town, I dropped off my resignation through the mail slot at the Biloxi Oil and Gas offices. I addressed it to HR, and in the letter told them to tell my stepfather that he could shove my job up whichever one of my wife's orifices that he had been shoving his dick into while I was out on the rigs.

I thought that would liven up the conversations at the water cooler.