Heiress Whored 01

So, I thought, this is it. All the fault of my stepmother, Amber de Witt; and yet. Yet what?

Those of you familiar with my history (Heiress Humbled) will know how it is that I, Miss Amber de Witt, heiress to the de Witt fortune, come to be spending my summer in Paris. For most women like me, it is an opportunity to acquire some culture, some prestige and boasting rights; galleries, fashion houses, movies, everything that makes Paris the special city it is. I would, no doubt, take all of those in at some point, but for now, as I pulled up my silk stockings, attached them to my garters, adjusted my skimpy G-String and made sure that my bra gave my smallish tits some cleavage, I would be doing what my Stepmother had sent me here to do - becoming a whore.

Not too long ago, the very idea that I, the entitled and beautiful Ashley de Witt would whore myself out, would have been laughable. Those porn videos I'd watched about submissive women were just a hobby, they said nothing about me - until they did. Arrested and sentenced to community service in a women's prison, I had slipped into servitude with such ease that, as my Stepmother had commented (when she found me begging my maid, Anna, to let me "rub my cunt,") it was plain that I was "a submissive."

Amber had rescued me from the degrading path my feet were on, but knowing, as she and I both did, that I craved humiliation and submission, she had decided that I should follow the path she had taken before meeting and marrying my father - become a "yacht girl," that is an escort - or in plain English, a whore.

I looked at myself in the full length mirror. My bra was so sheer that it might as well not have been there, but it did support and present my tits perfectly for the client. The tiny G-String was of the same material as the bra so, as so, with my hairless mons, nothing was hidden from view. As I put on the sheer open fronted robe that had been laid out on the bed, I noted it dod not even cover my ass. I smiled. I looked somehow both classy and sluttish - and that was what was required of me.

The door to my room opened. A tall, black woman entered and looked at me. She was dressed impeccably in a well-tailored white suit with a white silk blouse.

"You are everything Amber said," she said, "I'm Alisha, and I run the show here in Paris, you'll do as I tell you."

Tall, commanding and looking so stern, of course, I thought, I will do whatever the fuck you tell me. I found myself saying, "Yess, Miss Alisha."

"Oh, that's good, I like that. Two generations back my ancestors were serving yours, and now, Miss de Witt, you are serving me; delicious!"

I was glad she liked it; I certainly did.

"You have the right attitude young lady. Let me check you out. Legs apart, hands on your head.

I was not sure what I had been expecting, but it was not this. That was my first lesson, assume nothing, expect the unexpected - and adapt.

I could smell her expensive Chanel perfume as she walked up to me, looking me over, appraising me.

"There is something delicious, Ashley, in seeing you like this, a well-brought up, privileged lady, dressed for business like all my other whores. I bet this excites you, doesn't it?"

Saying that, her hand patted my pussy, my g-string offered no way to conceal its wet and swollen state.

"You get off on this, don't you?"

"Yes, Miss Alisha, I do."

She spent a few moments patting my pussy, and then, suddenly, she spanked it - hard. I gasped. She did it again, and again, and again. Each time the gasps became louder. My pussy had begun to ache, my clit likewise.

"Does that arouse you, slut, being pussy spanked?"

"Yes Miss Alisha."

"It did me too, fuck, on your knees slut!"

As I knelt, she unzipped her skirt and let it pool round her feet.

"Take my panties off, using your teeth, and then put them, with my skirt, on the side."

Not for the first time, I wondered what was wrong with me, as the idea of acting as her maid and tidying up after her, added to my excitement.

"Yes, Mistress," I said, doing exactly as she told me.

"Now eat me out!"

Alisha leaned back against the wall, opening her legs. I knelt, sniffing her arousal before sliding my tongue along her smooth, dark, swollen slit; she tasted of cinnamon, with a sharp tang. Holding her thighs, I inhaled her scent, and then slid my tongue along her folds, pushing them apart so I could reach her inner sanctum. She shivered and gripped my head.

I parted her lips. Her clit was unhooded, aching for me, so I blew on her; she gripped my hair tight. I flicked her; she gasped and gripped me tighter. Forming a vacuum with my lips, I sucked on her pussy, pulling on her lips, devouring her juices. She pressed against me, pushing my head hard into her pussy.

"Fuck, fuck, bitch, you are such a good pussy licker!"

Her other words were lost to the moan that my sucking on her clit drove from her lips. Wetting my thumb in her pussy, I slid it round to her rosebud, circling it, moistening it with her own juices, as two fingers parted her inner lips to allow my middle finger to penetrate her.

"You, yes, you slut, fuck yes, fuck me!"

Easing all three fingers past her stretched walls, I curled them in, and at the same time, my wet thumb eased and pressed to stretch her rosebud to penetration point, pushing through the muscle and allowing my hand to clench, which stretched both her holes. As my thumb and fingers touched inside her, she began to tremble. I found her special place, I eased my fingers there, clenching and unclenching as I slid a fourth finger into her warm, gooey wetness.

"Oh yes, yes, you fucking bitch, yes, do it, do it!"

Whatever game she thought she had embarked upon, I knew she was now playing to my script. If she wanted to humiliate and degrade me, fine, I wanted that; but it would be on my terms, not hers.

My fingers worked inside her, my thumb now well entrenched. All she could do was to ride up and down, wanting my fingers to scratch her itch and my mouth to suck her clit. I kept up a steady rhythm, driving her to the edge, then stopping just enough to make her groan and then, when she was clenching to grip my fingers, I'd go faster again, gripping her pussy until, once more, she was moaning aloud and swearing loudly.

I felt her right on the edge, so I pushed her over it. A sudden hard lip bite on her clit, followed by a hard clench of my hand which stretched both her holes, resulted in my getting a face full of her squirt. Screaming, she gripped my head to stay upright as he pushed her hips against my face.

I let her shake, her pussy gripping my fingers and then, when her excitement began to subside, I eased my thumb out and, making a fist, pressed it into her, wrist deep. She screamed, and creamed, again.

Again, I let her calm down, and then, twisting my fist, fucked her hard again.

It was only after her third orgasm that, sensing she was spent, I slowly extracted my fist and, looking up at her said:

"I hope I pleased you, Mistress?"

She grinned.

"Fuck, you total bitch, of course you did, wow, girl, we are charging a premium for you."

She told me to clean her her, which, of course, I did gladly.

"Do you kiss?"

"You, of course, Mistress."

I kissed her so she could taste herself.

"Damn, girl, I taste good!"

"You do, Mistress."

Alisha looked at me strangely.

"You enjoy this don't you?"

Smiling, I admitted to my sin.

"Get us a drink, there is some Chablis in the fridge. Come sit with me."

Strolling across to the fridge, dressed only in my underwear, I did as I had been told.

"I can't read you, Ash. You're rich, privileged, you could have what you wanted."

"I have what I want," I said.

"What, you want to be a whore?"

"Please, Mistress, we both know that I am a high end escort for discerning women of wealth."

"There's a difference?" She asked, her interest piqued.

"Sure," I said. "Whores take whatever Johns there are, I will only work with women of my own class, who will, I am sure, get a thrill from the fact I am who I am."

"Shameless!" Alisha grinned.

"No," I said, "I'm just a spoiled little rich girl getting off on this over the summer before I go to Yale. I could use Daddy's money to pay my way, but this gets me off."

"Well, girl," she said, "I always use this audition to make an assessment, and you, you sexy bitch, you get eleven out of ten."

"Why eleven?" I asked, my interest piqued this time.

"Because you took charge at one point. Can you do that? Take charge?"

"You saw, and felt," I replied.

"Why did you go there?"

I smiled.

"Mistress, like many high powered women, you sometimes needed to yield control, I sensed it and devoted my submissiveness to pleasing you. It did not jar or put you off did it?"

"Quite the opposite. Well, my girl, we can make a fortune out of you, as you can too. As your step-mother will have explained, our girls are partners in this. You sure you don't want men? Your step mom found your dad this way. You could find someone too."

"All due respect, Mistress, I am an heiress, so money is not that this is about. I like girls and want to stay with them."

"How are you with older women?"

"Why do you ask?"

"We get some older clients who like a younger girls to cater to their needs. We call them the "Sugar Mommies." You in for that?"

"Does that attract a premium?"

"Yes, a night with you would be twenty thousand dollars, any frills and other ten."

"And my share is?"

"You get forty five percent, the extra five for us covers overheads."

"Deal," I said.

And that was how the de Witt heiress became a "yacht girl."