Article 44828 of alt.sex.stories:

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Date: Fri, 20 Jan 1995 01:40:27 UTC

Subject: TG ARCHIVES: "Karissa"

Lines: 419

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Karissa

by LuvrMan

******

I knew the minute I laid eyes on her that she was a hooker. No woman

purposely looked that provocative unless she was hustling. She was a

stunning redhead in a black spandex minidress with a halter top. Her

large, ripe melons threatened to spill out of their skimpy

confinement, and her deliciously narrow waist and full, rounded hips

were defined by a wide red patent belt. Her long, shapely legs were

enclosed in sheer black stockings, and her feet were gracefully shod

in matching red patent pumps with five inch stiletto heels. Her

fathomless jade eyes were deeply made up in green and gold, framed by

furry black lashes. Her plush lips and long, graceful fingernails were

polished in fiery red. She told me her name was Cybil, and I had to

have her.

Picking her up was not a problem. We each knew what the other was

there for, and came to an amicable arrangement. As we left, I thought

I was going to shoot my load in my pants just watching her hips

undulate back and forth as she strutted towards the door. On the way

home she did everything to keep me aroused. She fondled my raging

hard-on through my pants, blew in my ear, nibbled on my earlobe, stuck

her tongue in my ear, scraped her fingernails against my exposed

chest.

We arrived at my place - not a moment too soon for my aching cock. She

took one look at my house and gasped.

"Honey, if I had known you were loaded, I would

have charged you double. C'mon, Lover; I'm going

to get that extra out of you yet!"

The sex was great -- not just because she was skillful (she was), not

just because she was beautiful (she certainly was). it was great

because of the thrill of knowing that this beautiful, talented

temptress was a professional. It was wildly erotic to think that this

exquisite woman, whom I had never met before, was having sex with me

on demand for a cold cash payoff. I had always fantasized about being

that woman; perched enticingly on a barstool, waiting, then being

propositioned, reaching an agreement, taking the john someplace

private, accepting his money, then fucking him senseless.

She stirred, as if to leave. As she got up, she noticed a stack of

photographs on the bedside table. Before I could stop her, she picked

them up and began to leaf through them.

"Mmmm, dynamite-looking Fox! I can see that I'm not

your first Working Girl. Who is she? I don't think

I've seen her around before."

"It's me. I like to dress."

She stopped dead. Her chin dropped and her eyes grew wide as she went

through the stack, alternately looking at the photos, then me. When

she had finished, a sly smile spread across her lips. She pushed me

down on my back, straddled my hips, impaled herself on my now-rock-

hard cock and rode me for all I was worth. She gently raked my chest

with her long fingernails as she softly spoke to me.

"No Lover, you don't just like to dress. You LOVE

it! The woman in these pictures proves that. You

dress to turn men on, to make them hot for you,

just like a pro. You make ME hot, just looking at

your pictures. No girl looks that good by accident.

Now, Honey, tell me what you REALLY want. What was

it I saw in your eyes at the bar? TELL ME!"

"You're right. I love to dress as a woman. I love

to be sexy, provocative, sluttish. I have always

wanted to know what it's like to hook for a living;

to pick up a stranger, take him to a room, take his

money, and fuck him senseless. I saw you tonight,

and I saw the "me" I have always wanted to be. I

want to know how it feels."

Cybil's eyes gleamed as she took in my words, as if some plan had

crystallized in her head. She smiled her seductive smile and rolled

over until she lay beside me, still gripping my cock tightly inside

her drenched pussy. She pressed her lush body against mine and

continued to rhythmicallly pump my fuck-pole into her. I could feel

her hot breath on my face as she spoke slowly, softly, commandingly:

"So you want to know how it feels, do you, Sugar?

I can arrange that. I love to transform mousey

little guys like you into beautiful, sexy women.

It's a real turn-on for me. I don't have to ask

you how you would feel about it; I can see it in

your eyes. Look at me. Look at my body. You love it,

don't you, Honey? You would love to have a body

like mine, wouldn't you? You would love to have a

pair of full, firm tits like mine. You crave a

nice, round ass and a tight, wet pussy of your

own, don't you? You would sell your soul to live

my life; to seduce men, make them hot for you, make

them give you anything you ask for, just so they

can feel your tits, feel your ass, feel your

whole body pressed against theirs, feel their

cock inside your tight, wet pussy. Imagine what

that would feel like, Lover; a big, hard cock

inside you, driving in and out, hot cum spurting

into your pussy. You would die to be the kind of

woman that a man would pay anything to possess,

if only for a little while - wouldn't you, Sugar?

Well, I'm not going to just tell you about it; I'm

going to show you. You have a beautiful place with

lots of bedrooms, and this neighborhood has great

potential; the local clubs ooze money. It's an

ideal set-up. Tell you what. I think I'm going to

stay with you a while. In fact, I think I'm going

to call a couple of my friends and have them stay

here, too. My friends and I are going to set up a

little business here, work the clubs, have some

guys over. While we're here, we are going to

change you into your "dream girl." Your new name

will be -- Karissa, soft as a woman's caress. We

will give the kind of body you have always wanted,

the kind that men drool over. You will learn how

to walk, talk, sit in ways that get guys hot. We

will teach you how to give a blowjob that will

drive a guy up the wall. We will show you how to

get a guy off right under the table. When you are

ready, we will take you out to the same bars you

go to now. You are going to pick up tricks with

us, bring them back here, and screw their brains

out. We may even have you pick up your best

friend. But you know what, Honey? I guarantee he

won't have any idea who you are, and he wouldn't

care if he did. All he will be able to think about

is this hot-looking fox in front of him that he

just HAS to get his cock into. And you will want

him to do it, too, because by that time you will

be one of us, and he will be just another source

of income to you. The only way you will really get

it on is with another hooker; WE know what it

takes to get each other hot. I'm getting very hot

just thinking about turning you into a really sexy

whore. I want to see you all dressed up, made up,

with curves in all the right places. We'll turn

tricks together, but the special moments, the hot

moments, we will save for each other. Besides,

Lover, if you don't go along with it, I just might

start showing these pictures of you around, you

know what I mean?"

The threats weren't necessary; by that time I would have given her

anything to do what she said she was going to do. She probably knew

that already, and just tossed them in to add a little drama.

She started that night by examining my feminine wardrobe ("You do have

good taste, Honey"). She laced me into one of my corsets, then added

stockings, heels, a sheer black peignoir, full makeup, and my platinum

blonde wig. She selected my largest dildo ("I knew a slut like you

would have one") and fucked me into total submission.

Cybil made a couple of calls the next morning, then spent the next few

hours feminizing me. By noon my body was completely hairless,

corsetted, stockinged, and padded in all the right places. I was in a

long silk dressing robe and stiletto heels ("get used to them,

Karissa; that's all you will wear on your feet from now on"). The

doorbell rang and she lead me to the door and opened it. Her two

friends, Ginger and Monica, were every bit as striking as Cybil.

"Ginger, Monica, I want you to meet Karissa. She

wants to become one of us, and I told her we would

show her everything she needs to know. Won't we?"

She flashed them a big wink that I was meant to see. They all laughed,

then they led me to the kitchen where they all went to work on me.

I was completely made over that afternoon. Although I was to wear wigs

until my own hair grew out, they bleached my hair a shimmering

platinum blonde ("We wouldn't want any dark roots to spoil your look

now, would we Honey?"). My eyebrows were thinned and trimmed into high

arches. My ears were double-pierced and two sets of studs were put in

place until the punctures healed. While Cybil and Ginger worked on my

makeup, Monica gave me a long, lustrous set of square-cut sculptured

nails. When they had finished, Ginger and Monica each grabbed one of

my wrists and pulled me forward over the table. I lay there helplessly

as Cybil moved in behind me. I felt the cooling touch of an alcohol

swab on my butt, followed by the sharp sting of a needle.

"What was that?"

"Shh now, Karissa. That was your first hormone

shot. You will get one every day from now on.

Soon you will have curves in all the right places,

and then you really will be just like us, just as

I promised you. You'll like that, won't you, Baby?"

I could have said "no" right then, and called the whole thing off. I

could have sent them on their way and gone on with my life. I really

could have.

"Yes, thank you. I will like that very much."

The days passed. I helped my three lovely companions move their

personal belongings in. At the same time, we redecorated the house

into a very graceful, very elegant, very feminine home. The girls kept

me corsetted and dressed for "business" at all times. They took turns

indoctrinating me. I picked up their techniques, their approaches,

their attitudes, even their patterns of speech. I acted as their

receptionist, setting up appointments for clients who called, greeting

the clients at the door when they arrived, making them feel relaxed

and comfortable until their girl was ready for them. The girls

developed a sensual, exotic ritual which they practiced on me every

night. I would wait in my bedroom, dressed in corset, stockings,

heels, a sheer pegnoir, fully made up and perfumed, as though I were

waiting for a client. Then one (and sometimes all three) of the girls

would enter, kiss and caress me for a while, then gently force me down

on the bed, administer my hormone shot, then give me a long, slow

fucking with a large dildo.

As more time passed and the contours of my body changed, I became more

confident in my new lifestyle. I had begun to practice "warming up"

the clients while they waited, to make their experience that much more

pleasurable. It wasn't long before they began to request that I

participate in their scenes. I found out that I really love to suck

cock, not to mention taking a big dick up the ass. I even took part in

a few Domination scenes. It's a real rush to have some guy on his

knees before me, begging me to whip him. It turns out that a

transsexual dominatrix is especially intimidating; the poor wimp is

reduced to a puddle of jelly when he realizes his mistress is about to

do to him what he does to everyone else in his life.

Soon I progressed from participating in the other girls' scenes to

turning my own tricks. It's thrilling to have clients request my

services. Cybil was right; it is an ego trip to have that kind of

power over a man, to hold his cock in my hand and watch him spurt cum

all over, knowing that at this moment I own him, and he will do

anything I ask him to if I will "please just make it last a little

longer!"

The girls kept at least one night open each week to get out to the

clubs, have a few drinks, dance, and maybe drum up some new business.

Working girls are just like salesmen; they are always "on", always

pitching, even when they are out playing. One such Thursday night they

decided it was time to throw me a "graduation party". They spent an

hour fussing over me, giggling, teasing me, as though I was going to

my first prom. I was laced into a bright red satin corset which

compressed my waistline to a scant twenty-two inches, while my hips

flared out to a full, rounded thirty-six . My legs were encased in

gossamer-sheer black stockings which fastened to the garters of my

corset. The seams of the stockings ran arrow-straight up the backs of

my legs. I wore a red lace underwired demi-bra which cradled the

undersides of my hormonally-enhanced tits and pushed them high up on

my chest, giving me full, rounded mounds and a deep, luscious

cleavage. My matching red lace bikini panties kept me tucked in

tightly, so that no telltale bulge would spoil the effect. I wore a

black silk short-sleeved blouse with a wrap-around front. The effect

was to create a plunging "V" neckline which showed of my lush cleavage

and just a hint of red lace bra for contrast. My ample curves were

squeezed into a knee-length black leather hobble skirt, with a spray

of diamond-shape rhinestones down the front. With the blouse tucked

into the skirt, my tiny waist was defined by a wide red calfskin

cincher belt. My feet were shod in red calfskin pumps with five inch

stiletto heels. My platinum hair was fluffed out, with spikey bangs

curling in on my forehead. My sapphire eyes were made up dramatically

in dark blue and silver, rimmed completely in black liner, and framed

with mascara-ed lashes that resembled thick, black fur. My prominent

cheekbones were a deep rose. My plush lips and long fingernails were

blood-red, matching my belt and shoes. The scent of Shalimar wafted

gently on the night breeze as I strutted regally to the car with the

other girls. after a few minutes drive, I realized that Cybil was

taking me back to the same club where we had met.

I should have been panicked; everyone there knew me well. Yet I felt

supremely confident and self-assured. I instinctively knew that no one

would connect the ravishing beauty they were about to meet with the

guy they had known before. I now was what I had always been meant to

be, and I was prepared to make the most of it. I communicated all of

this to Cybil with a glance and a smile. She understood immediately.

We had made a point to arrive towards the end of Happy Hour. It was

early enough to get one of the big, semicircular booths near the dance

floor and still catch a lot of the businessmen who had stopped by to

socialize after work. No one showed me the slightest hint of

recognition, not even waitresses who had known me by name for months.

That doesn't mean we didn't get noticed; far from it. Every eye in the

place, both male and female, tracked the four of us like radar all the

way from the door to our table. I think our bar bill amounted to one

bottle of champagne that night, and that was the first one. Once we

established our preference, fresh bottles kept appearing at our table

like magic for the rest of the evening.

We got up to dance shortly after the dance music program started;

after all, we were there to have a good time. Of course, there was

more to it than just fun - working girls are always "on", remember?

The sight of four gorgeous foxes grinding their bodies to a pounding

disco beat, as though they were making love to each other, is a

powerful aphrodesiac. It is also a more effective introduction than

any calling card ever devised by man. Sure enough, within twenty

minutes our dance cards were full.

Business, as they say, was brisk. Our "girl's night out" took on the

aspects of just another day at the office, with frequent trips by each

of us out to the parking lot. True to his word, the valet never

allowed us to be interrupted at an awkward moment. I was so impressed

by his devotion to duty (not to mention his endowment), that I gave

him his "tip" two hours before closing. On the other hand, I did make

sure he had my "business" number; an occasional freebie for

promotional purposes is fine, but business is business. The same is

true for those gentlemen who bought us really good champagne; it is

pricey when you buy it in one of those places, and we were there

primarily to have a good time. We showed them one in return, but

before they left they had our phone number and first-hand knowledge of

the kinds of services we provided.

Shortly before last call I heard a familiar voice ask me to dance. I

looked up, and my heart skipped a beat. I knew this guy! His name was

Ken. We hadn't exactly been best friends, but we had gone drinking

together often. Yet here he was COMING ON TO ME, as though he had

never seen me before in his life! I glanced sideways and caught

Cybil's eye. We spoke volumes with just that one glance; I saw that

she understood what was happening. I looked back at him, flashed him

my very best come-hither smile and said yes.

As we danced, I played coy, pretending he was a complete stranger. We

went through introductions and some small talk, and I think he caught

on to what we were. At that point I really turned up the heat on this

guy. I had always thought he was good-looking; now, I found him really

attractive. That always makes the job easier. I did my very best

"Dirty Dancing" routine. I danced close with my hands on his hips,

alternately grinding my pussy into his crotch and my tits against his

chest. He placed his arm around me and held me as I leaned way back,

my fingertips sliding down his arms. He pulled me up again, and I

slid my fingers up his arms again, transferring them to the exposed

flesh of his muscular chest. I twirled around so that we faced in the

same direction. I arched my back and reached backward with my right

arm so that my hand encircled his neck, my head rested against his

shoulder, and my ass nestled against his crotch. I swayed my hips back

and forth to the slow, hypnotic beat, grinding my ass against his

massive hardon. I could almost hear him sweat, and his hands encircled

me and ran upwards to fondle my tits, then downwards to feel my pussy.

I knew at that moment that I owned him. I also knew he would make the

obvious play at any momemt. I was ready for him.

"Karissa, I'm so hot for you right now that I'm

about to come in my pants. Let's go someplace

more private and talk about it."

"Gee, Honey, I don't know. It's late, I have

to work tomorrow, and we're going to need

a lot of time to do it right."

"Then I would have to make it worth your while,

wouldn't I?"

Gotcha. Two thoughts flashed through my mind in quick succession:

1) This guy is worth BIG bucks, and

2) He has never been to my home. He would

have no idea who I was, or had been.

The decision was obvious.

"In that case, Sugar, I think we can work something

out. Let me just excuse myself from my roommates,

then we can go back to our place. It's just a few

minutes away. They won't disturb us when they get

home. Unless, of course, we want them to."

I led him back to our table and told the girls that Ken would be

taking me home, that we had some business to talk over. I flashed them

a smile and a big wink, then let him lead me towards the door. As we

walked away from the table, I glanced back, and saw Cybil mouth the

words "I told you so." The valet brought Ken's Porsche around. Ken

tipped him and got in. I waited for the valet to come around and get

my door. When he did, I surreptitiously massaged his re-aroused dick,

gave him a smile and a wink, and mouthed the words "Call Me." Then I

got in the car, and we were gone.

Where should I begin? Business has been great; so much so that the

four of us have decided to extend our relationship indefinitely. I

made my own decision a while back; I now have a real pussy and a 34-D

bustline. Ken is still a good friend and valued client. He steers a

lot of business our way, so I allow him to take me out from time to

time. He knows all about me now, and certainly knows what I do for a

living. Instead of being turned off, he says he thinks I am the most

exciting woman he has ever known. I think I'll keep him around for a

while; this might have potential if I ever decide to retire. I'm not

ready to do that just now; I'm still having too much fun. Cybil,

Ginger, Monica, and I are just like family. We share thoughts,

feelings, emotions. There is a lot of love here. Speaking of love,

you will have to excuse me; I have a standing date with a gorgeous

redhead and a very large dildo.

FIN

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