The Sweet Slut In Training Ch. 04

Chapter Four: Sweet Heat

The next morning, Valarie awoke with a slight headache and a stale taste in her mouth. She rolled over, aware that she was nude. She tried to remember what happened after Travers had taken her upstairs at the end of the party. She had visions of him humping her furiously while she drifted in and out of consciousness. For an older man, he had a lot of energy. She rolled over slowly, realizing he wasn't in the bed with her. She saw a note on the night stand and read it.

"Went to work early this morning. Take the morning off. See you this afternoon. Realize we haven't given you any cash, so here's some for breakfast or whatever. Thanks for being a good sport last night. Billy."

She sat up and counted five $20 bills. She felt a pit in her stomach. She felt dirty and tired and like she'd been used. All for $100. What had she turned herself into?

She showered, brushed her teeth and put on a yellow thong, some tight denim shorts and a pale yellow t-shirt. She wanted to put on sweat pants, a sweatshirt and some regular panties and bra. But she realized those "regular" clothes would be back at her hotel room -- the guys were only going to keep specialty clothing at their places. Well, she'd dress a little more normally when she got home and maybe that would help bring her out of her funk.

The sight of her shiny new car parked outside helped a little, though she still felt guilty about tucking the $100 in her tight pockets. Did taking it make her a whore? And had she really earned it? She didn't think so. She felt like she'd let Travers down last night. She hadn't become a cum slut and she had practically been unconscious the last time he fucked her. She hadn't yet mastered walking or dancing in extreme high heels, she struggled to keep her poise and appearance in the front of her mind at all times. And she had never before doubted or resented the size of her average breasts the way she did now.

A few weeks ago she had been a confident, happy young woman with a sweet boyfriend, loving family and options aplenty. Then, her boyfriend left, she made a rash decision to start fresh in a new country and so far, as much as she liked the States, she'd not been able to figure out a way to live that didn't involve her trading sexual favors. She felt like a failure and, oddly, what disappointed her the most was that she didn't feel like she was living up to the expectations of Travers, Nelson and Roy.

"You're a stupid little bitch," she chastised herself, driving fast on the expressway, the cool morning air offering a chilly ride with the top down and so few clothes to insulate her. She told herself to stop feeling sorry for herself. She wanted to blame Sebastian, the landlord, the guys at the firm for her decisions, her failings. But it was all her fault. She knew she and Sebastian wouldn't be together forever, so why had she clung to him for so long? She could have figured out other options for her apartment. She kicked herself for giving into the dirty landlord too easily. And she didn't have to accept the offer at the law firm. So far, they had stuck exactly to what had been agreed upon. They had made it clear what they expected of her and how she would be treated. She had been fucked and shown off publicly, but not harmed. And they had backed up what they had said about fine clothes, plush accommodations, a car, dinners, etc. If she had made a poor decision, it was her fault, not theirs. She had fooled herself into thinking she didn't have options. She had been drawn in by the promise of working for a big firm. She had loved the promise of the comfortable lifestyle. And, yes, she was attracted to them and excited at some level about being a sex object. Didn't every woman long for that status at some point in their lives?

She sped to her hotel and went upstairs, anxious to change into some sweats and spend the rest of the morning huddled on the couch watching bad TV. She looked through her closet and drawers but could find none of her old clothes. Then it hit her. They had gotten rid of them. All that was left was her new sexy, slutty, revealing clothes. She flopped on the bed and lay back, closing her eyes and clearing her head.

"OK, think Valarie," she said to herself. "You have to make a decision and whatever you decide, you better commit to it." She grabbed a notepad and pen and started jotting down her thoughts and feelings, eventually boiling everything down into a few key points. If she was going to leave, she needed to do it today. She owed them that much. If she was going to stay, she needed to commit to it, get over her apprehensions and shame and fears and be the slut they wanted her to be.

Suddenly, it hit her. That was the problem. She didn't know how to be that sexy girl they wanted. She was trying to be too much too soon. That was making her feel inadequate and her resentment made her feel used. Ahh, those crazy mood swings. She understood now. All Travers and the others had asked of her -- over and over again -- was that she have an open mind, obey commands, give it her best and, above all, be honest. That last part was the one that had been tripping her up. She'd had moments of honesty when she'd admitted not liking cum or being worried about certain public displays. But she hadn't been completely honest with them. She needed to tell them that she felt awkward at times, that she still didn't like the taste of cum and doubted she ever would, that she was self-conscious about her breasts and that she worried that being a slut would make her less of a lawyer. They weren't asking her to be more than they felt she was or could be, so why should she. Let them train you, she told herself. Let them be disappointed from time to time. Make them show you what they want and how they want it. Don't try to anticipate every little thing.

The more she thought, the more she realized she had already made her decision. She was staying and her mind was now working on accepting that it was OK to be reluctant and vulnerable at times. Going from good girl next door to naughty teasing sex tart was going to take time. She now realized what the guys had known all along.

For the first time in days, the knot left her stomach, her head stopped buzzing and she felt clear-headed and alert. I can do this, she told herself, and if I can't, no one will be able to say I didn't give it my best shot.

Feeling suddenly energetic and excited, Valarie threw on a pair of tiny pink athletic shorts, a tinier white tank top and some tennis shoes and headed to the gym a few blocks away. The guys had provided her with a membership and she went in intent on working off some stress while keeping her body toned and lean for them. She made a mental note to ask them about setting aside a few hours every week for this so she could be at her peak physically for them. She was sure if she phrased it that way they would agree to it.

She ran five miles on the jogging track and did a series of light weights, sit-ups and stretches. She was halfway through her workout before she realized that guys were looking at her. Her tiny shorts revealed that she was wearing a thong and her little tank top displayed her firm nipples. She had already grown accustomed enough to wearing tight, revealing clothing that it hadn't dawned on her that this outfit was certainly more inviting than average, even in the era of short shorts and sports bras. Her skin was slick and shiny with sweat and she was bending her flexible body into some pretty enticing positions. She wondered what they thought of her. Did they think she was too flat-chested and tomboyish? Did they think she was cute? Did they think she looked like a slut?

She smiled back at some of them and said hello to those who addressed her. A couple hit on her, but she politely told them she had a boyfriend -- not mentioning that she actually had three.

Before she left, she looked in on a few classes, noting that Pilates looked like fun, as did some of the aerobic dance classes. She wouldn't mind swimming a few laps in the pool, but worried that her barely there bikinis and scandalous slings might get her kicked out.

She went back to her hotel room to shower and get ready for an afternoon of work. She felt refreshed, both mentally and physically, and looked forward to a few hours of work with no sex involved. She wasn't sure what she'd do after work, but a few hours of solitude sounded good. She might take that $100 Travers had left for her and treat herself to a massage. That sounded like a great start to the evening.

She arrived at work in a great mood. She was wearing a black leather mini skirt with a zipper that ran straight up the back. The skirt came down about two inches past her ass cheeks, several inches shy of reaching the black thigh-high stockings she was wearing. She wore a black thong underneath. On top, she had on a simple white blouse that wouldn't have garnered much attention except that it was too small, the tails reaching only her belly button and the tight top making her breasts look larger than they really were. She took advantage of the opportunity to show a hint of cleavage by leaving the top two buttons undone. A sexy outfit, indeed, but tamer than she would probably wear most days at work and certainly more conservative than her "date" attire had been so far.

"You seem like you're in a good mood," Nelson said.

"Yeah, she doesn't have to suck your ugly prick today," Roy taunted.

"Whatever, it's nice to see you so chipper," Nelson said. "Any special reason? Bill told us that you gave a very valiant effort to become more appreciative of the taste of cum."

"Well, he was being kind," Valarie said. "I did try, yes. But I feel like I failed him. I'm sorry, Billy."

"No problem," Travers said. "I'm not the least bit disappointed. But if you think I am, why are you so happy?"

"Because I finally realized what was going through my head and what I need to do," Valarie said.

"Oh?" Travers asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't worry," Valarie said. "I'm not leaving or anything. But I did think about it. I thought about a lot today. I don't know if you noticed, but I've been having some ups and downs with this whole thing. It's been ... a lot to adjust to. And I'm sorry if I have disappointed you or been moody or anything."

"Hmm," Travers chuckled. "Funny you say that, because we've been talking about you a bit this morning and we felt like we owed you an apology, too. We compared notes, agreed that you seemed happy at times, overwhelmed at others. We realized we had forgotten this was all new to you. We're used to dating women who, quite frankly, approach us in many cases and make it quite clear how the date will go. A little money and a nice suit can get some women into bed in a hurry."

"But what we realized," Nelson picked up the conversation, "was that those girls were mostly one-night stands and we were always anxious to do everything in one night, realizing that there wouldn't be others."

"Our mistake," Roy said, "was that we rushed you the same way. We got so excited, we forgot we have you for a year -- assuming you're still on board with the whole plan -- and that you weren't the kind of girl who has a history of jumping into bed with men you barely know. Sexy, yes, but vastly experienced, no."

"I'm sorry," Valarie said meekly. "I tried to be the girl you wanted, but I ..."

"No, that's not it at all," Travers interjected. "You are the girl we want. We didn't want the girl who has already experienced everything and uses sex to get what she wants and feels like it's all she has to offer. We just forgot you weren't that kind of girl. But you're who we want. A young women with intelligence, confidence and the ability to be an asset to this firm. Those are the hard parts, honestly. Training you to be a slut, for lack of a better word, is the easy part. You have the body and the attitude. Now all you need is the knowledge, which will give you confidence."

"Huh, I doubt I'll ever feel as sexy as you want me to be," Valarie frowned. "I can't even get the hang of walking in those heels."

"Let's look at it another way," Travers said. "You're very confident as a student, right?"

"Well, yes."

"And you know you have what it takes to be a lawyer or just about anything you want to do, right?"

"Yes, just about."

"Well, we see that confidence in you, too, and we realized that there were reasons you weren't as confident when it came to the sexual parts of your job. One, you doubt your appearance, which is ludicrous to us. Two, you doubt your ability to tease and please -- it doesn't come natural. You can't just open up a book, read about it and pass some test."

"Oh my gosh," Valarie said. "That's exactly right. This is so out of my element. I mean, put me on a soccer field and let me go. Give me a literature exam and I'll nail it. Ask me to give a report and I love it. But this is all different for me. It's not the sex that bothers me. I rather like that part -- well, most of it."

"We get that now," Nelson said. "So, we think we have a way to help you. First off, relax. We love you. You're doing great, so don't be so hard on yourself. Believe me, if we're disappointed, you'll know it. Second, we want you to look at this as more of a training than a role. Just like you'd train for a job or study for a class. We realize that's how your comfortable, that's how you learn. So, you're now officially enrolled in How to Be a Sweet Slut 101. You will have regular assignments and homework and tests. You will be evaluated and graded and your progress will be charted. In the end, you will see that you are far better at this than you give yourself credit for."

"Wow, I never looked at it that way," Valarie said, a faint smile on her lips. "I like that idea. I mean, you're right, that's how my brain functions. I have to study things, think about them, analyze them and then come to conclusions."

"That's why we came up with this plan," Travers said. "Roy, will you please take her through it? Nelson and I have a conference call."

Nelson and Travers excused themselves and Roy sat at next to Valarie's desk and showed her several documents that had been emailed to her. He showed her an Excel grid that had been set up to track her accomplishments on a weekly basis.

"We're going to have all of this set up on an internal web site by the end of the day, but for you now you can start with these forms," Roy said. "We want you to track how many orgasms you induce. There's a column for each of us, including yourself, as well as a 'miscellaneous' for other guys besides us. Now, we expect you to not only use this form, but also to build on it as you see fit. Maybe you want to track how many times we cum in your mouth or in your pussy. Or maybe you want to track how many times other guys hit on you or how many times you think about sex during the day."

"OK," Valarie said. She liked working with numbers like that. She wasn't sure how it would help her feel sexier, but she was happy to go along with it. "What else?"

"We also want you to keep a daily log of your experiences," Roy said. "We have set up this internal blog for you to use. You can post your thoughts, ask questions, post videos and pictures of yourself. You get the idea. We won't always spend much time asking you what you think or how you feel about certain things. This will be your chance to share your ideas and opinions without repercussion. The only thing we ask for, again, is honesty."

"All right," Valarie said. It was hard to argue with them -- honesty certainly didn't seem like an unreasonable request.

"Now, every Monday we're going to require you to give a report on your week's experiences. We want to know what you did and what you learned from it. I encourage a dynamic presentation with video and pictures -- they definitely make it more interesting and will help your evaluation."

"I see," Valarie said. "I'm happy to do all of this, but, I'm worried about having enough time."

"We thought of that," Roy said, clicking another document. "We're working on a new new schedule. We'd like you to take a look at it and offer your suggestions based on how much time you think you need to complete your tasks both in and out of work and still have some time for yourself."

"Wow, you guys have done all this today?" Valarie said.

"Most of it," Roy said. "Like I said, our computer guy is putting it all on a secure intranet site for us. He's a little curious about it, as you might imagine."

"Sure," Valarie giggled. "Not exactly typical lawyer documents. You know, if I need to do anything to help make sure he, um, keeps it secure, well..."

"He hasn't asked yet," Roy said. "But it's good to know if he starts hinting that you're willing to play along and do what's best for the firm."

"Of course," Valarie said. "Anything within reason."

"That's all we ask," Roy smiled. He left her to play with the schedule and the forms and joined Travers and Nelson on their conference call. Little did Valarie know that the three high-level lawyers were on the phone with a very high-level client -- a doctor with limitless cash, limitless ego, limitless libido and a very checkered past. The name Dr. Frederick Pound wouldn't mean much to Valarie, but to the women of south Florida, he was legendary. To some he was pure evil. To others, he was the answer to their sexual fantasies. An inventor and scientist as much as a doctor, he had used his genius to create a couple of wonder drugs -- one which made his cock grow to a ridiculous 12 inches and another which made him constantly horny, able to produce erections and huge loads of sperm in a matter of minutes. His lust was insatiable and his fucking was relentless and savage at times.

He had a clean record in Miami, but prior to moving there, while still in his trial stages of inventing new drugs, Dr. Pound had gone too far too fast with a few of his patients. There had been complaints -- all from parents and girls chastised by jealous boyfriends, it turned out -- and investigations but, thanks largely to the expert legal work of a then relatively young lawyer named William Travers, Dr. Pound had never been formerly charged or convicted of any wrongdoing. Still, he had found it wise to move from Baltimore, one to get away from the scrutiny and two, to go to the "Land of Plenty", as he called it, referring crudely to the vast amounts of beautiful young women living and visiting the south Florida area.

Travers and Nelson had grown to know the man over the years. They didn't much approve of his tactics or his ego, but there was no denying Pound's genius, wealth or loyalty to them for their legal help. And there was no denying that no man on earth knew more about the female anatomy than Dr. Pound. That's why they were talking to him now, listening as he explained exactly how to use the little device that lay before them on Travers' desk.

"Since this is my prototype and you gentlemen are testing it for me," Dr. Pound said, his deep voice booming through the speakerphone, "I have taken the liberty of naming it after your young lady friend. I believe you referred to her as 'Sweety Val'. Well, you're looking at 'Sweet Heat' or the 'Val Pal,' if you prefer. I like Sweet Heat, personally."

"That's a good name," Travers said, conscious of the constant need to stroke Pound's ego. "How's it work?"

"Well, what you have here, gentlemen," Pound said dramatically, "is the first device guaranteed to generate female arousal, monitor that arousal and work as a gps -- I call this version the Get Pussy Satellite -- and the best thing is that it can be implanted and will not need to be removed or replace for years.

"There are actually two parts," Pound said. "The one that looks like a watch battery goes just inside the vagina, on the top, as close as you can get to the g spot. It's a painless procedure. The sticky substance on the back is non-toxic and it will hold to her inner lining, no matter how wet she gets or how hard you fuck her. The device has tiny vibrating fibers that are invisible to the naked eye and aren't felt by the patient, but they actually act like tentacles that will gradually imbed themselves in the soft lining of her pussy. So, by the time the adhesive wears off in a couple of weeks, it will be fully encased inside her."