The Bitch

So, this is it, I thought to myself. I had not told my wife of this plan, of course. It was not something that I cared to share with her. Then again, I didn't share much at all with her anymore, except for our last names. She had made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with my "kinky stuff". That included spanking her, tying her up, and generally having my way with her. She was much more conservative than I turned out to be. This wasn't my first time being unfaithful to her. I simply couldn't handle the kind of mundane sex life that we had. I was seriously thinking of leaving her.

All I knew was that I had to get this urge out of me. I had to act on it. The great thing about a prostitute was that it would be a straight-up deal. I would not have to go on a date or pretend to feel love that I didn't have; it would just be about lust and pleasure. I was tired of making promises to people that I couldn't or shouldn't keep. I didn't feel like more commitments. I just wanted more pleasure.

I didn't want to constantly have this need at work, for instance. Oh, sure, there were women at work, but they were married. Married women would be after replacing their husbands with new husbands. They would want a ring and a new marriage, which would be presumably happy enough to make leaving their husbands worth it. Besides, even if it was just a fling, an angry husband would be an enemy I didn't need. I had enough problems with my own spouse without adding someone else's.

That didn't change the fact that I had a strong impulse every time I saw my female colleagues to take them and bend them over their desks. I wanted to pull down their pants or hike up their skirts and spank them with my belt. I wanted to fuck them doggie-style in front of everyone. I wanted to fuck them in the ass. I wanted them to wait in a line to get screwed openly in the office. I wanted to make them all my slaves and sluts. I wanted to take them as roughly and forcefully as I wanted to plunder my own wife.

That wasn't all. I wanted to call their husbands up and fuck them in the ass in front of their wives. Yes, I was into guys, too. This night would presumably help with the women. The other side of my bisexuality would have to wait. The ravenous lust inside me demanded that I take some whore and use her as I pleased.

I looked around for the right girl at the corner. I had a specific type in mind for tonight. The other flavors could wait. I wanted a woman who had short brown hair, blue-grey eyes, and a little too much makeup. She had to be a little slender, but also a bit whiny. In other words, she had to remind me of my wife. That bitch deserved a good spanking and ass-fucking, and I was going to give it to her, even if only through a hooker who resembled her.

"Hello, there, Mister," the brunette that I had noticed before spoke to me. We had flirted before, without either of us acknowledging it. It was just a wink here or there, lips puckered out, and so forth, as I drove by with my wife. This time, however, I was not going to drive by.

"Hello, there. I think I've seen you here before. Guess I am safe to assume that you're not a vice cop, right?" I probed a bit.

"Me, a cop? I wish! Then I'd get to hang around big, buff men all day long, instead of uptight store clerks! Hell, even you are a nice break, though you're not that tall," she grinned at me with a look of poorly disguised desire.

"How much for 'the works'?" I asked her abruptly, a bit irked at her comment on my relative shortness. I would remind her later that height wasn't the measurement that counted.

"You mean 'nothing off limits'? No holes barred?" she teased, making it more apparent that this was a rare case of mixing business with pleasure.

"Exactly, missy," I confirmed it.

"That would be a full hundred. The complete package doesn't come cheap, sweetie. I charge top dollar. Believe me, however, when I say that I am worth it. I'd be worth it even if I gave you an STD, which I don't have. I get tested often for HIV and other diseases. Only select customers get it 'bareback', so I am not likely to catch anything. You'd be such a client, since you're clean and want the 'whole package'. Not even the hundred bucks get you 'bareback' by themselves. I have to trust that you won't infect me. I may be a street hooker, but you're not slumming when you fuck me," she made her pitch for the price that she wanted.

Clearly, she either saw her chance for the Benjamin and was determined to seize it, or she just really found me attractive and my interest flattering. Maybe it was both. Being a cynic, of course, I was betting on the first one.

As we were in my truck by now, I wasn't worried about people overhearing us. I also didn't give a damn about anyone finding out. My wife's word about it would be hearsay, nothing more. The only way that I could get in trouble now was a sting. I didn't care if my wife left me over it. I was already on the verge of filing for divorce for irreconcilable differences. After only 6 years of marriage, I was fed up with her attitude. So, let the bitch complain! My best friend from college was a lawyer with plenty of cash. He'd defend me pro bono, if necessary. Since Nancy always avoided sex during her fertile days, to push her career forward, we had no kids.

I decided that I deserved a chance for some wild sex with someone who appeared to actually enjoy it. I was going to go for it. Yes, the girl in question might be a bit shocked by the kinky side to me, but she was charging major bucks for a street whore. That being the case, she shouldn't have a problem with something that she had probably seen before. If she hadn't, she was about to experience it. I wanted a good, nasty "grudge fuck", with a side of handcuffs and a paddle. With any luck, we should both have fun. She seemed like a pro who was into the job for more than just cold cash. That in itself was refreshing. If she didn't bolt when I brought out my toys, everything would be fantastic.

"It's a deal. Now, my wife is out of town on a business trip for her company. I couldn't go with her, as my job precludes it. What do you say we come back to my place? It would be nicer than a cheap motel," I suggested.

"Works for me," she agreed, not a bit perturbed at my marital status. I was hardly the first married man to patronize her business.

We finished driving and arrived at my house. It was late enough that I had already given my wife her "goodnight" call from our home phone and she was probably sleeping like the dead. Few if any people would be up, so the chance of any witnesses was decreased. I had planned this well ahead, and with plenty of attention to detail. Being a private detective, I knew how to avoid being caught by one.

When we got inside the house, I told the girl to close her eyes. She did as I instructed. I then put a blindfold on her and led her into the bedroom. Once she was relaxed, I told her to lie back on the bed. When she complied, I handcuffed her, and I could tell that she was panicking for a second. She might well have thought that I was a cop, or a serial killer, at this point. When I hiked up her miniskirt and removed her panties, I could hear her breathing normalize, as if reassured that I was truly interested in sex. Since she was on her back, and I wanted to paddle her, I simply turned her over onto her stomach.

She tensed up and flinched for a second when I gave her the first swat, but she didn't ask me to stop. Evidently, she accepted this as part of the bargain. It was a shock to her, but not one so unpleasant as to warrant breaking our deal. I struck her again with the paddle. She jumped once more, but this time less dramatically. She was now more prepared for the blow, after all. She anticipated being paddled, and had begun to adjust to the pain.

While I gave her the next 18 swats, she seemed to squirm and wince a bit, but she didn't cry or complain about it. She made no verbal protest at all. Her bottom was a little red, but she wasn't bruised or anything. She lay there on her belly, waiting for the next swat. When it didn't come, she took some initiative and altered her position slightly, lifting her ass up into the air. It faced me, as if she was inviting me to do something else to her butt and get my money's worth. She obviously still wanted to continue the transaction.

When I spread her cheeks, I realized that her butt-crack was shaved, just like her cunt. It was also very clean, far more than one expected from a streetwalker's asshole. She clearly made a point of good hygiene and safety. It was part of the unusual pride that she took in her profession. I began licking her sphincter and pussy, moving across the taint back and forth. I wanted to see her reaction. My instincts were right: she loved this act, and almost certainly kept her tush clean with the idea of encouraging men to rim her ass.

I started to nibble on her lips and clit, just long enough to tantalize her with the idea of a climax. I moved my tongue between her holes repeatedly for the next few minutes, which caused a wetness that I could smell if I lived halfway across the world. It wasn't a bad scent, unlike what some men consider it. To me, the aroma was a delectable one. It was the smell of arousal, after all. It reminded me of sex, pleasure, and orgasm, including hers. Yes, I wanted her to cum too, but I definitely wanted to play rough before making her do so. I wanted the realization of one of my fantasies that Nancy had rejected: a wild, kinky night where I would reward a good slut or slave for servicing me well.