This is chapter 7, part 1 of the Pleasing María novel. If you are under 18 years of age, or are offended by explicit descriptions of sexual activity or violence, or by strong language, please exit this site immediately. To view the Table of Contents of the novel click here. To go directly to the first chapter, click here. To read the latest novel post, click here. This is a rough second draft.
Chapter 7 – Part 1, A Terrible Prostitute
I heard back from Yellow months later – she had married the libertarian days before and he was processing the adoption of her son. She fucked the Pol regularly, including the Ride, and was showing his pregnancy again. Her brand-new husband became impotent before their marriage. She cheerfully admitted it was probably due to her slutting, and he didn’t object to her lovers. He wanted to adopt her soon-to-be baby girl. She lost custody of her three girls when she became pregnant again – the judge said she was a moral hazard to the girls. The Pol’s ghetto wife rejoined him in Oakland, a jealous, uneducated, uncouth riff-raff that beat him when he cheated and spent most her time in the county lock-up. The Pol filed to divorce her. She said she had never been happier, and her only regret was losing her girls and missing-out on me. She said I was the perfect husband, a man who knew how to worship his wife. But the libertarian was a strong second-runner-up.
* * *
After the Pol dumped her, María received dozens of phone calls on her private cell phone – from the politicians, the rich and famous from the events she attended. Someone, probably María, spread her contact information widely. Now that the Pol dumped her, she was open game for those men and women. They all wanted a piece of her, bragging rights that they fucked the Pol’s mistress. María wanted nothing to do with them, they treated her so badly. María finally discarded the phone, and we bought her another with a private number.
* * *
I took the call – the attractive cookie-cutter blond newswoman from Sacramento that presented the Pol as the new messiah of the poor and downtrodden. She tracked down María, and asked for a follow-up interview, a human-interest story. I wasn’t too keen on the idea, but neither María nor I could see any real downside, since her escort name, Isabel, would be used and it would be a print article with one photo. And María wanted to get revenge – she wanted to tell how she had been pimped-out by the Pol. The reporter said she’d buy María lunch and pay a token $250 honorarium. She did make one strange request – that María come dressed-up as she had for the gala events.
We had great fun dressing María again. María did her own hair, I did her makeup, and we did the entire erotic lingerie ritual, up to the point of the panty. Then I took her to the bed and fucked her to multiple orgasms, quite the trick without messing-up her hair and makeup. We decided to leave my semen in her for the rest of the day, since she’d be talking about the Pol and I didn’t want her to get too excited. We had the package of Italian panties from the Mistress Shop, but the package was still sealed – we had reserved the panties for our honeymoon. So I chose a panty from our sex-club, salsa-dancing days, installed it and kneaded her vulva to another orgasm with my lips.
María met the reporter in the restaurant at the Mark Hopkins hotel. The reporter seemed less interested in María’s story than telling her own. After the Pol resigned, he moved to his Berkeley Hills apartment to begin his social work and political rehabilitation. The TV station discreetly fired the reporter for having sexual relations with the Pol, and she found work in Oakland as political commenter. She still fucked him. She had already interviewed the other escorts. When the Pol recruited them, they were all happily married – now all six, including the new Hispanic, were separated or divorced, still part-time mistresses of the Pol. They thought he’d make a comeback, and they all wanted to be his public wife. The reporter asked María how her home life was going; María said we had a rough patch but were doing OK. She said I’d allow her anything to keep her.
The reporter said María was the Pol’s favorite, he had chosen her as his public wife – what happened? María explained about her son, and the reporter was appalled – appalled María had deceived the Pol.
The reporter began talking about the vast right-wing conspiracy to sabotage the Pol. She and the escorts were convinced the Republican Representative deliberately sent his underage daughter to entrap the Pol. She said the Pol had a doctor’s prescription for the cocaine, and all the money the Pol spent on his events, including the escorts, was a legitimate gift from a labor union. The reporter wanted to do an exposé on this right-wing conspiracy, and she wanted María’s opinion on how the right-wing had instigated the scandal between the House Speaker and his wife. This was the secondary purpose of the interview.
The primary purpose was she wanted María. She offered María $1,000 for a one-hour intimate interview. The reporter was in love with the Pol, and she wanted María because María had been the Pol’s favorite. She wanted to know why, and to have the same experience with María as the Pol. María remembered the sweet kisses from the women at the events. And she felt that taking the reporter’s money and fucking her would be an appropriate revenge on the Pol. María accepted, and the intimate interview took two hours. María’s premonition about a woman’s mouth in her vulva was entirely correct. The traces of my semen in María’s vulva momentarily disturbed the reporter. I was disturbed by the idea another person had tasted my semen in María’s vulva – that activity had always been my exclusive domain.
María flatly stated it was among the best oral sex she had ever experienced. María’s oral exploration of the reporter’s vulva was equally erotic, and when the reporter began her convulsions, squeezing María’s head between her thighs, she understood completely why I was so enamored of her vulva. When they finished, they both lamented the lack of a good penis, the Pol’s penis precisely, and the reporter decided to head straight for the Pol’s apartment. The reporter invited María along for a threesome. Since the Pol did not ride her all night nor give her the grand finale – she wanted to see for herself how María and the Pol made love, but María politely declined. The reporter offered María repeat interviews for the same price, and said she knew several women that would love the experience. The blond kick-started María’s interest in women and she accepted.
María looked straight in my eyes, “I’ve voluntarily and knowingly accepted money for sex, and I’ve agreed to do it again. I’m a call-girl now, a whore and a prostitute. And a Magnificent Slut. Do you have any problems with that?”
I replied, “Not the least problem. Can I call you a whore now?”
“Only if you never want to see me again.”
Now I was engaged to marry a woman that tried to castrate me, and was a prostitute to women. My hormones engulfed me and I grabbed her and carried her to the bed. I gave her the penis she lamented, minus her preferred color and size, but she made no complaints.
María received the first phone call that same day, and then a steady stream of ‘interviews’ followed. At least three times per week, sometimes twice in a single day. The reporter was a regular, about once per month. The dozens of dresses and outfits María got from the Pol earned the taxpayer’s money again and again, but the panties stayed sealed for our honeymoon. When I was free from work, I dressed her to meet her dates.
I was relieved when her dates included men, I began to worry she loved women too much, and I might lose her to another woman. María earned several times my salary, and she offered me half of her earnings. I declined, told her to save it for our wedding. And I didn’t want to feel like I pimped my wife. Now I burned to marry her – if she cheated me for money, I wanted the full humiliation of a full wife.
The Pol appeared to interview her once – he couldn’t afford her, and she didn’t charge him. He gave her the full all-night ride, complete with coke and the Ride. But she was in charge now. As she left, she kneed him in the testicles and left him gasping at the hotel room door, a small but sweet revenge for how he treated her.
By professional standards, María was a terrible prostitute. She broke the sacred hooker rules: she deep-kissed her clients, both men and women. She nuzzled and caressed and loved them, both sexually and emotionally.
At least for those 1-2 hours, she was the woman, the lover, of their dreams. She didn’t fuck them, she made love to them. This emotional investment drained and exhausted her. I spent many nights caressing her, telling her in detail how special she was, and how much I loved her. These moments took me out of sexual excitement mode – I hurt because she hurt.
María stopped all other casual sex during this period. The men that previously fucked her for free were bewildered she cut them off unless they paid. I was her only freebie. I thought.
Most of her clients were politicians, celebrities, and media, business and rich elites – control freaks of all types. She thought many were sociopaths or psychopaths. She quickly dropped the politicians – they seemed oblivious to the pain and harm they caused. “Hum”, I thought, “sociopaths in politics – who would have guessed?”
Many of her clients, like the Pol before them, marked her with bites, hickeys and scratches, but she only allowed them in hidden locations. The women were worse than the men. They marked on her buttocks, breast undersides, inner thighs, and abdomen. I applied a mixture of hydrocortisone and Italian body cream to erase them.
María accommodated any reasonable sexual kink. She allowed her clients, men and women, to slap and spank her, to twist her into unusual positions and to verbally abuse her. She allowed anything that didn’t physically hurt her. She was also quite willing to spank, belt, tie-up or verbally abuse them. She punched and squeezed the testicles of the men when they requested it. She refused any use of drugs, and allowed anus-fucking with an enema, condom and lots of lubricant. She reamed their anus and allowed moderate bondage – her safe-word was ‘ride-me’. They used a variety of vibrators and sex toys. For María, all sex was good sex.
But most of her clients just wanted love and affection, and she gave it. If a client asked her if she loved them, she answered ‘yes’, and it was true for that moment. If they gave her an orgasm, she brushed their ears with her lips and whispered she loved them. She spent as much time listening to their sad stories as fucking them, the latter being a momentary escape valve for their lonely, unhappy lives. Their stories depressed her. So many lonely people, craving any affection at all from their wives or husbands or partners. They paid María for what they should have had freely at home. Their stories depressed me too, and I realized how lucky I was to have this woman. I wanted to marry her so badly it hurt.
* * *
I loved to dress her and apply her makeup for her clients, men and women. My job hours made it impossible to do it for each session, but most of her sessions were in the afternoons, evenings and weekends. I came home at lunch time and rushed home after work to help her. We discussed each client, their kinks and quirks, and we designed her appearance to please them. I loved I could enhance their sexual pleasure along with María’s.
We shopped for the preferences of her clients. I loved helping her try-on lingerie outfits of ever type, color, and exposure. These were first-use for other men and women, I only got to use them second hand.
That’s when I realized her women and paid-for male clients didn’t cause me the same pain and humiliation as the men she fucked for free because she wanted them. I enjoyed her descriptions of sex with her clients, and we discussed how she could improve their sexual pleasure along with hers.
María became methodical: scheduling dates, planning for hotel rooms, her dresses and outfits, makeup and hair sessions, and so on. We went shopping at Macy’s for new outfits, easily paid with her earnings – unless a client requested a specific outfit or look, they never saw the same outfit twice. She scheduled her clients around her menstrual periods. She wasn’t concerned about disease due to the class of clients, so she didn’t use condoms or any type of birth control. She wanted to get pregnant, so she scheduled only men when she was in heat, and excited them to saturate her vagina with sperm. If she did get pregnant, she’d worry about picking out the father afterward if I wouldn’t accept the baby as mine. She needn’t have worried, I craved to have any child from her womb.
María began to limit the number of clients but to spend more time with each one. Her sessions increased from two-to-three-to-four hours. And she doubled the price. She did occasional overnights with both men and women, but preferred to be home with Brett and I. She always preferred women to men. In general, women made love to her, men just fucked her thinking it was love, or wanted bragging rights to the Pol’s ex-mistress.
She doubled again the price per session for men, but it made no difference, they kept calling her. Both the men and the women professed to love her, and wanted her exclusively for themselves. I wondered how many hormones and other substances the semen and sperm contained – I ate a lot of it from her vulva. I also wondered if the hormones in the semen were affecting my own hormone balance.
María changed – she lost some of her spark and effervescence, and I became worried. She took her clients much too seriously, and they drained her emotionally.
Brett noticed her busy schedule, her hours away, and the changes in her personality. When she was out, he’d come to sit with me and we’d play and read together. He was worried too.
María kept her part-time job at the apartments, the minimal number of hours allowed by the company. She was proud she had the highest conversion rate for new tenants in the region, better than the full-time employees. She earned a pittance compared to her prostitution earnings, but she didn’t want to be defined by prostitution. She wanted to keep a normal life: work, home, Brett, me – she broke my heart. The Nanny stayed on full-time, and we brought-in a twice weekly housekeeper. I made sure María didn’t spend any time doing housework or anything else she didn’t like. I told her she should stop prostituting whenever she wanted, and she reduced the number of clients yet more. María found an equilibrium. Our family time in the house, on our trips, even doing the most menial of errands was a source of rest, sanctuary and joy for us. This period was one of the best times of our lives. I realized how her prostitution exhausted her, and I refused to touch a penny of her earnings or let her pay for anything we did. I found out later she sent money to her relatives in Guatemala.
End of book content.
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