Forced Into Prostitution

As always comments welcome.

*****

One year later, Jill was in the kitchen at home when there was a knock on the door, she put down the tea towel and went to answer it.

"Errol! She exclaimed when she opened the door, what are you doing here? Come in, come in," Jill said, stepping back in order to let Errol enter the house.

After all the usual formalities and enquiring after each others health etc, Errol told Jill that he was concerned about Clare's health and state of mind.

"Could you see her and tell me what you think? Requested the black pimp, she's a mess right now."

"Sure I will, absolutely no problem," Jill agreed.

To cut a long story short, Jill found Clare to be both a physical and mental wreck. The lifestyle she was leading, coupled with abusive men and with boyfriend problems, had driven Clare to use soft drugs as a safety blanket. They didn't help, all it did was exacerbate her downward spiral. Jill told Errol that Clare was unavailable for the next few weeks and took her home with her to see how she could help her out of her predicament.

When Jill got her home, she noticed how drab and lifeless Clare seemed to be, she had lost all the lustre from her face and features, her hair dirty and lank. Jill even had to make her bathe and clean herself up before she did anything else.

Over the weeks Clare was weaned off the drugs she had been taking, luckily she hadn't got into hard drugs, or become addicted to anything, she had just become dependant on them as an escape, so fortunately withdrawal wasn't that great a problem.

Clare would sit between Jill's legs most nights whilst Jill combed her hair like she was a little girl, in short Jill mothered her until such a time she had begun to recover her normal self.

However the bombshell was about to arrive.

Errol called on Jill one day and asked when Clare would be fit to return to her work.

"Oh Errol, Jill exclaimed, She won't be ready for months and even if she was ready, I wouldn't let her return to a life that was killing her," she stated.

"Listen lady, Errol hissed, she is one of my best earners and if you think you can keep me from reclaiming her, you are more naive than I thought. Get her ready for me, understand?"

The question Jill had known would come, from the very moment Errol had first contacted her, was asked.

"Unless you want to take her place, until she is fully recovered?"

"Errol, please, I can't willingly return to what was the lowest point of my life and endure the degradation it brings, please don't try to force me," whimpered Jill.

"Then I will call and pick Clare up here at 11 o'clock tomorrow, she will be on her back again by 12, I promise you." threatened Errol, who seemed to have changed so much to Jill.

"Errol you can't do this to her, to us, please don't force us," Jill pleaded.

"Then take her place." Errol said blandly.

"But you know I can't service the same niche that Clare did, don't you? She is younger than me and would do almost anything. Errol looked on impassively as Jill continued. I won't do the 'water sports' or other degrading things than she does, you need another girl believe me." Jill finished.

"Look Jill, I don't want a like-for-like replacement, I just want another girl to provide my income stream, you can pick whichever market you want. Just get back to work or I will be here for my asset over there tomorrow."

Jill looked over at Clare who seemed as miserable and frightened as she had ever seen anyone look.

"Ok Errol, what do you want me to do?" Jill whispered, defeated.

After a discussion which lasted well into the night, Jill had agreed to return to the profession she loathed, in order to protect her 'new daughter'. Wanting to avoid the filth and degradation of the streets Jill had let Errol talk her into the escort side of the life.

"Surely men paying for a woman to be on their arm for the night and in their bed later, would want a young 'hot girl', not an old has-been like me?" Jill asked.

"Listen and I will tell you exactly why you will be a star. First you are not an old has been, you are still a sexy mature woman. Now this town is a conference town as you know, and we have always a large portion of single male attendees at any given time here. The vast majority are mature or even elderly white males. Errol continued, the new men always pick a bleached blonde, fake tits, young whore who they think will make them look good. This isn't how it works he explained, they are so obviously whores and look so stupid on the arm of these older men that they make them look pathetic."

"Go on, said Jill, I'm listening."

"So, said Errol, the older more experienced conference guys, want a woman who they can pass off as their wife, who they can boast they are married to etc. The image they want to project is one that those women were beautiful when they first pulled them, who fell in love with them and married them. Women who have retained their looks throughout the marriage, women who still love them and still sleep with them."

Jill listened to Errol reluctantly seeing where he was coming from and understanding the bigger picture.

The inference and suggestion is that they have been fucking someone like you all their lives. But the real situation they want to infer to their peers, is that these women are their girlfriends, someone who has gone with them how they are now, and someone they have managed to pull recently and are screwing illicitly. That is the real testosterone fix, women like you look like classy trophy girlfriends, and not like cheap whores."

Errol knew Jill was mortified at having to return to the life, but he wanted her earning for him and needed to convince her that being an escort was ok. He had just the man in mind to ease her back into the life, before unleashing all the assholes on his poor unsuspecting old whore. Just as he had done all that time ago he convinced Jill that it was only like sleeping with a man on a first date. In a word for word rehearsed argument he said,

"If you went out with a man one night for dinner or entertainment etc, you might consider sleeping with him, yes? Then why not do the same thing only earn well from it? Go out with a guy and have some fun, and let him pay good money for your company, in nice surroundings, nice restaurant, nice club, posh hotel etc."

Jill arrived at the restaurant dressed as instructed, and was shown to a table to meet her 'date'. She was pleasantly surprised to find a quite handsome man awaiting her. Steven was about sixty, quite tall, greying hair which made him look quite distinguished and dressed immaculately. He also looked to have a very well kept and healthy body.

He was also very impressed with Jill in a confident way of a man who knows he doesn't have to seduce his date and that whatever happens, he is going to fuck this woman.

Jill found Steve to be very intelligent, witty, polite and very charming and she felt herself relaxing and becoming very much at ease in his company. They chatted the evening away like old friends, but Jill could sense something was wrong, but couldn't put her finger on what it was.

The hotel room door closed behind them and Jill walked across the room to the dressing table. She could feel the swish and friction of her stockings as they rubbed together and she felt quite sexy.

The feeling of something being wrong intensified when Steve kissed her. He kissed her very slowly and tenderly, not like a guy all fired up to fuck.

As they kissed he ran his hands up and down her back several times before cupping her bum cheeks in his hands. He then slowly pulled down the zipper on her dress and eased it from her shoulders.

Jill was becoming very excited herself and when she finally stood before him in her black stockings, suspenders and tiny panties, she was every bit as keen and eager as he was to have sex.

Jill slowly sank to her knees before him and gently stroked his large bulge, he was semi hard and big. As Jill lowered his zip and carefully pulled out his cock, she was very pleased to see he was well endowed and that she was going to be well satisfied tonight, if his size was anything to go by.

Then it hit her was wrong with tonight. As she lowered her head and sensually took his big, hard, gorgeous cock between her lips and engulfed it with her hot and oh so willing mouth, Jill realised that she was acting like a lover and it was almost like she had forgotten she was a whore with a client.

It was all too personal.

Throughout the evening and now, as she was giving herself to this man, she had broken all the rules. It had not been Candy Suxxs the whore, having dinner with him, it had been Jill Smith. She had been herself, talked about herself and exposed herself and who she was as a person, instead of retaining the anonymity a prostitute relies on. When the client had kissed her, she had not only allowed it to happen, but she had kissed him back. Kissing was always a no-go for working girls, they always wanted to keep something for their husband or boyfriend alone.

Now, as he demanded what he was paying for, namely fucking her, instead of Candy the dispassionate professional taking care of his needs, it was Jill that was making love to him.

Jill tried to 'turn off' the love making and to simply let him fuck her, but it didn't work. This handsome, charming man had broken her defences, so she simply gave in and made love to him.

She made love to his cock with her mouth, licking, sucking and sensually caressing every inch of his balls, his shaft and his large bulbous head. Jill was shocked to find she was desperate to have him inside her, she wanted him to take her, to have her and to possess her. Jill was relieved when he made no attempt to return the oral stimulation, but simply pulled her to her feet, walked her to the bed and laid her on her back.

Jill's legs opened to reveal herself to him, her lips swollen and gaping. The small delicate pink lips which hid her most intimate depths from view, glistened with her heavy lubrication. She watched as Steve rolled the condom over his impressive length, all the time desperate to feel it opening her wide inside and reaching her cervix.

In the time honoured missionary position Jill watched him position himself between her obscenely spread legs. He rubbed the head of his cock up and down her sodden and gaping slit, before slowly easing himself into her, until he was embedded fully and totally inside her hot eager pussy.

After a few strokes Jill made the unprofessional manner she had conducted herself with complete. In one final act of intimacy, which Candy Suxxs would never have done, she reached down and put her hands on Steve's pelvis and stopped him from pushing into her. She reached down and took hold of his cock and slowly pulled the condom from his engorged shaft.

"I don't think we need that do we?" she whispered.

Jill had abstained from sex for the most part of a year since she last was forced to work. Now as the sensual lovemaking got past her defences and lowered her resistance, Jill wanted to feel hot flesh against hers, she needed to feel the skin of a hard, throbbing cock sliding along her wet, pink, crinkled, sensitive pussy walls.

She wanted to feel a man's semen filling her intimate, private depths.

It was unprofessional but Jill needed it oh so badly.

Steve was an old hand and had a lot of experience with escort girls, he could tell that Jill was not a seasoned pro by her actions and her response to him. He could also tell that Jill wanted to orgasm with him, something the women he normally used, steadfastly refused to do. His age and experience allowed him to control his own climax until he had driven Jill over the edge. He raised himself slightly so that his hard shaft came down into her vagina slightly and dragged her clitoris down with it a little more.

Jill could stand no more, she had not had a cock inside her for such a long time and the feeling of Steve's big hard length stimulating every internal inch of her pussy (not to mention her clitoris) pushed her to a terrific and intense orgasm.

Jill's panting, screaming and frantic groans of pleasure pushed Steve over the edge and he buried himself inside Jill and shot jet after jet after jet of scalding semen hard against her cervix. His big cock filling her, meant that his cum was forced back along his shaft and was already leaking from her pussy by the time he slowly withdrew.

As Jill lay post-coital with her 'lover' she slowly came down from the orgasm and everything began to hit her.

The personal intimacy that she had foolishly allowed, the personal, private information about herself, her family and her life that she had revealed to a stranger and the unprofessional love making she had engaged in with this stranger, was all so very wrong.

As a street whore Jill had hated every single time she had been forced to give herself to a man, she had hated the last act every bit as much as the first, it never got any better. As an anonymous whore, the transaction was cold, clinical and functional, her John neither knew nor cared who she was, she could be Candy Suxxs for a few minutes and he was gone.

Jill realised that being an escort was no better than being a faceless prostitute, in fact it was worse, it had been all too personal.

That personal aspect to the arrangement now became even more obvious. Jill was surprised to find that after one bout of sex, Steve wasn't looking for more. This wasn't going to be an all night fucking for her, in fact the sex side to things was actually finished. But what Jill didn't like was the fact that he had paid for her for the night and she was his to use as he wished until the morning, Jill was going to have to sleep with him.

It was this intimacy Jill hated. They prepared for bed like an old married couple, when she used the bathroom Steve simply walked in to clean his teeth. Jill was mortified, although she had just made love with this man, she didn't want the intimacy of using the toilet, of undressing, of sitting at the dressing table fixing her makeup and hair, in front of him.

She wanted to go home.

This terrible intimacy was every bit as bad in the morning. Naked she crossed the room as Steve watched her, again he entered the bathroom as she performed her personal toilette, as they breakfasted together Jill couldn't help but lapse into awkward silences. As Jill dressed in front of the mirror Steve watched her, like an old married couple. Jill wished he would look away as she pulled on her black stockings and attached her suspender belt to them.

The last act was incredibly innocuous yet so unwanted for her. As they crossed the reception area and headed towards the exit, Steve held her hand. Walking in front of all those people holding hands like lovers was the final straw for Jill.

She would either go back on the street, or if she had to be an escort, from now on she would be a cold cynical whore about it.

The second time Jill was hired as an escort did not follow the same path and she found that on one hand she was grateful for it, but not on the other hand.

The next time she met a man at a restaurant Jill was dressed as nicely, sexily and as classy as she could. What a waste, the man was crude arrogant and classless, all through the meal the man was boorish and boastful. Jill could handle this, because after all she wasn't exactly chasing him for a husband, however she found it humiliating in one sense, because both Jill and more to the point the obnoxious customer, knew damn well he was going to fuck her later and what a clever little shit he was about it.

Jill endured a whole night of boorish bragging and an ongoing self opinionated tirade from him. She desperately wanted to tell him to go and fuck himself, but the terrible truth was, she couldn't.

As they entered the hotel room, Jill hoped his manner would change but if anything he seemed to become full of even more self-importance. All pretence of conversation was dispensed with, any idea of respect or equality evaporated instantly, as he simply started to talk to Jill in simple stark commands.

"Dress off now."

"Put it there."

"Get on the bed."

It wasn't aggressive or potentially violent or threatening, he saw it as his right, his prerogative, it was what he was paying the dirty whore for.

Jill's thoughts, as she reached for the clasp behind her neck and the zipper at her back, were quite calm. When she considered the degrading life on the streets, as opposed to in a posh hotel, she realised that the assumption that escorting was less degrading than being a street prostitute was wrong. Throughout this encounter and the ones to come, Jill began to understand the psyche of both the man and the woman involved in such a transaction. She came to realise that some wealthy men communicate to you that you ought to feel yourself privileged to be there, regardless of how immaculately and expensively dressed and made-up you may be.

Jill also realized that the myth of the high-class hooker existed because it suited the men who pay for sex to believe it. Men like to assume that when they call an escort agency, a higher class of vagina will arrive at their door and, as an afterthought, that there'll be a higher class of woman attached to it and this is what their peers would appreciate and be jealous of. They certainly regarded women from the streets as having lower-class pussies.

Their sense of entitlement actually increased with the money they paid you. The attitude was clear: 'I have paid you so much, therefore I will do whatever I feel like doing to you and you will keep your mouth shut about it'. They got off in the sexual sense on humiliating you, on making you feel powerless, on giving you to feel and understand that you were there for one reason and one reason only, so that your body would be used as a receptacle for their cum.

An understood street rule had always been that the encounter was over when the client climaxed, but now Jill found herself alone in rooms with men who were paying by the hour and wanted every minute of their money's worth. Jill found this new form of prostitution more dangerous and more degrading, not less.

None of that changed what was going on Jill's heart or in her mind and none of it made any difference to the bodily experience she had here, none of it was of any practical benefit to her mouth, breasts or vagina. What was going on was the very same thing that was going on when she was lifting her skirt in a backstreet alley. The nature of prostitution does not change with its surrounds. It does not morph into something else because your ass is rubbing against white linen as opposed to roughened concrete.

It was on those linen sheets that Jill found herself being treated by this asshole like she was a nothing, a nobody.

The slightly tubby but very confidant man unzipped his pants and stood with his quite large cock sticking out of his trousers, which was still flaccid. Jill winced and he curtly said,

"Over here, on your knees and suck me off." and actually snapped his fingers!

Jill could have punched him there and then, but she thought of Clare and simply did what the man was paying for. She knelt between his legs and took his cock in her hand and started to slowly work his cock to get it hard.

"Did I say I wanted you to use your hands? Didn't I just tell you to suck my cock? Are you deaf or stupid?"

Jill lifted his slowly hardening penis with her mouth and reluctantly engulfed his large crown and tasted the slightly bitter helmet, she inhaled the musty smell that a man has and went to work. All the time she ministered to this awful man's prick he was watching her, he looked down on her and kept telling her,

"Suck it good bitch, yeah that's it, you love it don't you," and similar things, not in a turned on dirty talk sense, but in a derogatory and mean way.