Squealers

(Acquiring a Humiliation and Degradation habit by reward and behaviour shaping.)

In the City of Fallen Angels, anyone can sit on a vacant bar-stool. He does. He's, maybe, ten years older than me, slightly podgy, wheezy, doesn't look too fit.

"Hi mate, you don't mind?"

"No."

I'm an easy-going guy having a mid-day beer in an eaterie, taking the edge off my inhibitions in readiness to bar-hop when the girlie bars open in an hour. Meantime, I watch the street life pass by, especially the go-go dancers in their skimpy 'Love for Sale' advergarments on their way to work. Hanging from their backs, are signature shag-bags. Inside, a change of clothes, rubbing alcohol and a packet of free, Social Hygiene issue, Trust condoms.

As the go-go girls pass on the street, they fish for an early catch. Their faces turn towards us, and their eyes, filled with the promise of wet-dreams fulfilled, meet ours and stick. A smile or a nod, and they'll brighten and sashay up, shoulders back, breasts pressed to the point of overflow against their halter top. "You like my company?" If you remain stony-faced, as they pass their heads rotate until their forward motion causes their faces to snap back to the front, seeking other hungry eyes.

He orders and looks across at me. "You got a girl?"

"I'm Tom. No. I'll hook up with someone later."

"I'm Colin. I bar-fined out a hot one last night."

"Where from?"

"Panama Jacks. Here have a look." He has one of the new digital cameras and he hands it to me to view. "She's Precious, her name."

She's a pretty thing, laying against the bed head, clutching her legs, drawn up and parted. She's eighteen or nineteen, teen breasts, tight figure, hairless as a baby and smiling charmingly.

"Precious from Panama Jack's, I'll remember that."

"But not tonight. I'm bar-fining her again tonight."

"You saw her first. She gave you the full 'girlfriend experience' then?"

"Terrific, my kind of girl."

"Wife material?"

"Fuck off -- No -- A wannabe whore."

I glance back at her picture. She so sweet, I'm sure she never imagined she could be mistaken for a 'puta' when she sought her fortune as a gentlemen's entertainer in Angeles. However, not all men are gentle. I say, "Really. She doesn't look the type."

"A piece of trash. When they step on the stage and offer their bodies for rent they become whores, sex-robots, nothing more than a masturbation tool, an empty vessel to fill with cum. That's the way I see it....

...But, she's fresh meat, only been here two months, still needs to be stripped of her illusions. I can do that. I don't make them whores, I make them feel like whores. When she feels like a cum rag that's passed round to mop up cum, with the word 'No' wiped from her vocabulary, my job's done."

"Mmmm ... Interesting take, I've never thought of it like that. She looks to me like she'd make a nice girlfriend?"

"She's a fuck-pig bred in farm dirt, like the pigs, but she chose to move down the food chain. She's a consumable, prey for any bottom feeder. I can butcher and cook her any way I chose. These cum-magnets arrive thinking they've still got something wholesome to offer. They have romantic notions, but they've never fucked professionally. I'm not here for romance; I come to spew six months of stockpiled semen into the arsehole of a lipsticked fuck-pig."

"Ahhh ... D'you visit often?

"Twice a year, for a month. That's usually enough time to train up two new whores."

"Oh ... What's your main job?"

"Cabbie, I come in the low season months. Bilk the tourists in high season, 14 hours a day, and blow my ill-gotten gains in the low season."

"London?"

"Yeh."

"Me too."

He adds, "It's like awarding scholarships -- I pay well and they get an expensive education. When I go home I leave behind two whores fully qualified to suck the self-respect out of moral defectives, and snare them in a travesty of marriage."

"You should register as an educational charity then you wouldn't have to pay tax."

He laughs. "Let's say my untaxed earnings already fund this charity. What about you?'

"I'm freelance. I visit three times a year. I've bought a two-bed bungalow, cheap as chips. After the first year, I'd paid for it in saved hotel bills."

"Just you there?"

"A girlfriend manages it when I'm away. She lets bed-space to her friends."

"When you say, girlfriend ...?"

"A professional girlfriend, we go back years. She works in Bird Cage, she lets out to the other girls. Any money she makes she keeps, but she pays all the bills and maintenance. She packs in five other girls."

"Sex on tap."

"I bring back takeouts ... don't want to cause friction at home."

"Your girlfriend doesn't mind then?"

"No. I'll sometimes ask her to make up a threesome, but our relationship is shared memories and money. She's a good housekeeper and makes a lot from running the house. She's ambitious and talks about becoming a Mamasan and running her own stable."

"Money always works, that's how I train my whores."

"Tell me?"

"Like Precious. She was bitching last night. But I paid for a whore and I wanted a whore. She ended up squealing and crying."

"That doesn't sound as if it went well. Why not?"

"She didn't want me to fuck her arse. I told her she's a whore and I've paid so I'm going to fuck her arse, and I did. The little fuck-pig's squealing and crying, but the more she bucks the better it gets for me. After I shot, I told her to suck my cock clean. She's still snivelling, so told her I was going to do it again in the morning."

"How'd she feel about that?"

"She was giving me all the 'Please. No, please don't,' bullshit. I told her she wasn't going to short change me, she's a whore now, she's got to do a whore's work."

"And what happened this morning?"

"I woke up with a massive boner, she'd hit my sweet spot and I wanted more. She wrapped herself in the sheets and pretended she's asleep. I pulled her out, grabbed her ears and impaled her sperm-hoover on my erection. While she's sucking and spluttering I told her what we were going to do. She'd put my cock harness on me, and then suck me big and tie me off. I'd fuck her pussy, then eat it, then I'd fuck her arse for as long as I could. When my balls were bursting I'd release my cock strap and unload into her rectum ...

... Basically, that's my money shot, that's what they get paid for ...

... Then, I'd want her to hold her arse cheeks apart so I could photograph her anal gape for wank fodder back home. She makes loud nasal noises, and I can see her pleading eyes looking up at me, and her tears. I took a photo. Anyway, I did the deed ...

... I gave her anus some serious punishment and, Jesus, did she squeal. The more they squeal the more I make them squeal 'cos I get more excited. It's their fault. Their choice, their fate ...

... When my boner was too painful, I pulled the strap and released such a gusher I almost got cramp in my dick. Then I got some fantastic pictures of her tattered anus convulsing. That's what I want for my money."

He handed me back his camera displaying a picture of her, kneeling and bent forward on the bed, parting her cheeks to show her dilated anus, soiled and inflamed.

"Scroll through, Tom."

There must have been ten shots of her gape. Then there was a picture of her sitting, deflated, glum-faced and teary-eyed on the end of the bed.

"There, I'd just shown her the pictures of her anus. She kicked off again when I told her I was going to put them on the internet with her name and phone number. I told her it was free publicity and she should be grateful I'd be putting work, and money, her way."

"You said you'd bar-fine her again tonight: why'd she agree, she doesn't look happy."

"She doesn't know. I'm gonna surprise her?"

"Maybe not a welcome surprise, maybe she won't come."

"It's a compulsory bar-fine bar. All comers, all kinks, satisfaction guaranteed. She starts at six, I'll pop in at two when the bar opens and pre-order her."

"What if she's reluctant?"

"I'll tell her I'll show the pictures of her winking anus to her friends. But I won't need to do that."

"Why not?"

"Look at this picture." He shows me a picture of her standing at the door of his room, about to leave. A delighted smile lit her face, the youth and beauty restored, as she looked into her outstretched hand, accepting two 1000p notes.

"She's already learned 'there's no gain without pain'. Tonight I'll promise her 3000p if I can unload three times. In ten days she'll be calling me to ask if I want to take her out. But she'll have stopped squealing. I'll move on to a new virgin arse. I love squealers. I love training up anal whores.

"It's nice to have a hobby you enjoy."

"It's a vocation really. Once I've fucked the foolishness out of them, and they embrace their whoredom, a whole new world of profitable possibilities opens up to them ... They'll know to seek out their customer's weak point - their darkest desires - and offer fulfilment ... if the price is right ...

... They're addicted, cash-whores. Cash is more addictive than crack. Degrade them any way that turns you on; when you put the money in their hand it's all good, they'll smile, like Precious did. That's the tell-tale sign of a trained whore."

"Well, give me her number and I call her in a month or so."

###

A month later, I'm back in London. At half-past one in the morning, I call Precious.

She answers. "Hi, who call me?"

"Sorry, I've blocked my caller ID. I didn't know who'd answer. Is this Precious Lazatin?"

"Yes. I'm Precious."

"I'm calling from London. I saw your advert, I didn't know if it was a joke."

"What advert?"

"It was stuck on the wall in the gents' toilet at Waterloo station. I've seen it a couple of times. I took a chance that it was genuine. I like your photos, very arousing, 'anal whore available to satisfy all cocks, any size', is that you."

"Not in London."

"I know, but I can travel."

"OK, if you're here in Angeles. Are you a friend of Colin?"

"Not so far as I know. Who's he?"

"Never mind. When will you travel?"

"I can travel very soon, but before I travel I ought to say I have other unnatural things I want to do to a girl like you?"

"Like what?"

"I want to pee on you, in your mouth, and you to pee on me."

"OK, that's OK."

"I want to do these things to you when I've tied you up and you're helpless? I can pay very well, money's really no object."

"I like a rich guy ... but you still have to bar-fine two girls, one to guard just in case."

"No problem, but you needn't worry ... I'm really a sweetheart."

"But your wife don't think so?"

"I've never married, I've never met a girl who understands."

"Oh, rich ... and available. Me too, I'm available, and I understand. You can tell me anything ... I'll do it ... your pleasure will be my pleasure."

"Well, you sound a very nice girl."

"Yes, very nice, very understanding. I can meet you at the airport and be your guide.

"Excellent, you're so considerate, I like you already. Well, if I see your advert in the gents again, I'll take it down. You may not need to advertise anymore. Ever been to London?"