NOTE: This is the eighth part of the Ballad of Emily Jeffers, a seemingly naive and clueless woman for whom sex comes naturally, and sexual manipulation by others is her entire life. It's a story, and as such all characters are fictitious. Even so, those fictitious characters are all 18 years old and older.
We had to be in Haler City by about one thirty, so I got Ms. Jeffers cleaned up after Pastor Brown rode her for an hour, and tried to figure out what she could wear. There was the little dress she's been wearin' when I picked her up at the farm house more than a week before. It was short and almost see-through. We got her to try it on and figured it showed plenty, especially when Mrs. Eaton found a little belt and cinched it around the dress to pull it in tight. The effect was to draw it in against her big tits and nipples, and pull it up so as to reveal her just-fucked and still-swollen and glistenin' cunt.
"Pastor Brown wants to put a baby up inside me, Lawton," she said, recallin' the conversation of earlier. "He sure got giant Black-man's balls full of his baby seed, and he dumped a big load in my cunt and way up inside me. Are they gonna knock me up Lawton? I know I'm a whore, so maybe they can."
I told her Pastor Brown could do whatever he wanted with her body, 'cause she don't got no say.
"You're just a thing to use, Ms. Jeffers," I reminded her as Mrs. Eaton helped her into the dress and played with her pussy some whilst she was at it. "You and Mrs. Eaton are more or less the same as cows, like I done said before. They want to knock you up and turn you into a milker, then nothin' you can do 'bout it. They want to put you on display at the county fair, people'll pay money to see your naked whore body. The way Mister Harper and Pastor Brown sees it, you're property like that there cow. Only difference is you don't sleep in a barn. Your cunt got value but the rest of you 'cept your fuck holes don't add up to nothin'."
Mrs. Eaton hung her head hearin' it because she knew it applied to her even more. She wasn't just a whore, she was a disgraced mother, wife, community leader reduced to fuck meat for people to play with. She wore the mini skirt and tank top, revealin' almost all of her whore body no matter how she tried to cover herself up -- and of course she wasn't allowed to try. The whole point was to be both on display for anyone interested in seein' a woman's fuck parts, and to humiliate her, which in turn made her all the hornier.
I could smell her cunt aroma as Mrs. Eaton got aroused all over again.
My job was to show them off as much as possible without them gettin' arrested. So I drove slow through Johnsons Hollow, and once we got to Haler City I picked a restaurant that looked good and where both women would experience public exposure but would not be able to hide or cover up. If they did this on a daily basis -- exposed themselves in public -- they would soon think of it as normal and wouldn't hesitate. Learned behavior is a key ingredient in training a woman to be a whore, accordin' to Doc Edgerton. She had to become completely at ease bein' naked in public but still feel the humiliation. In fact, welcome the humiliation. Doc told me he once fucked Mrs. Eaton with her feet up in the stirrups and left her spread there with cum drippin' out for an hour afterwards with the door open and staff and other patients bein' able to see in id they cared to look. She was maybe 19 at the time.
"She associates humiliation and sex now, Lawton," he said. "She has for years."
I think everyone in the restaurant realized they were whores. The waitress had a smile on her face as she took us to a table in the very middle where the women could be seen from all sides.
"You want them on display, I presume," she said, referring to the two almost naked women. "My manager may kick them out, but we'll wait and see. What, umm, do they, umm, eat? I mean, besides, you know....."
"Just get them a soup and salad," I said, laughing. "I'll have the cheeseburger and fries. Three coffees."
The waitress smiled again, rubbin' against me as she picked up the placemats in front of Ms. Jeffers and Mrs. Eaton, allowin' for an unobstructed view of the women's pussies through the glass table top.
"Those are two fine lookin' meals right there," she said, lookin' down through the glass. "But I expect you'll be havin' them for dessert."
"I expect somebody will be eatin' them 'fore the day's out," I laughed. "And they do a good job on each other, iffin' you ever need that service."
Mr. Harper had dropped off the business cards he said he'd get done up, and I pulled one of each out and gave them to the girl. One simply said 'Emily Jeffers' and the other said 'Mary Eaton'. On the other side it said 'Present to Teller, Johnsons Hollow Bank & Loan'.
The waitress looked at them, quizzical, so I explained how she could buy either woman by payin' beforehand at the bank. A guy at the next table was listenin' in and asked for some cards for him and his buddies at the table. They'd been eyein' up the whores, as had men and women at other nearby tables. Mostly the looks were of appreciation except for two women sittin' with their husbands. But more cards were requested.
We waited for our meals with people qawkin' and pointin' and makin' comments. I dropped a spoon on the floor and got Mrs. Eaton to get up, bend over, and pick it up. She took her time about it, and her juices were glistenin' between her big cunt lips as they hung slightly open.
The guy at the next table chatted with us, askin' where we were headin' and what the women were up to. I told him about the book store and the gloryholes and how they were gonna be servicin' cock from two 'til five o'clock.
People watched their tits bounce and jiggle. Both women sat with their legs apart, and truth be told, their hands strayed from time to time down to their pussies. They became the entire focus for at least six tables surroundin' us -- even the women. The sexual tension was intense, and the two whores were all almost vibratin' with lust as they became the center of attention.
"These two look like the women in that newspaper advertisement," the guy at the next table said. "Somethin' about a church picnic and carnival over in Johnsons Hollow."
I hadn't seen the paper, but I figured he was right. He asked how it worked and I told him about the two women bein' rides at the carnival and how it was in a tent and you got four minutes once you paid for whatever hole you wanted.
"Mrs. Eaton here is a mother of three and Ms. Jeffers is turnin' tricks for that church in Johnson Hollow got the Black preacher," I explained. "They got her sellin' her pussy to raise money for church repairs and sendin' kids to church camp. They're both Black cock whores. Not exclusive, of course, but more than half the time."
