If a man wanted to bring a whore to a Holiday office party (and let’s be honest, what man didn’t) then he had to plan in advance if he wanted to reserve the best one. After all, prices went up for the genuinely glamorous or especially attractive ones at that time of year. None of us were dogs, though. The Erective Services Act, which (as you know) nationalized prostitution and created the Courtesan Corps, funded all kinds of plastic surgeries. 

Every woman at the party sized up every other woman. I could easily tell who was in the Corps or who used to be. We were all more physically fit, especially the recent grads, and emotionally fit as well; we needed to be able to anticipate and fulfill our john’s needs.  

The Corps wasn’t for everybody, I got that, and the few who had never served tried their best, I suppose. Most of them were dateless and tended to cluster together and judge us as if they were the privileged ones. Maybe in your great-grandmamas' time, I thought as I glared in their direction.  

Some of them were probably lesbians. We had been taught that only lesbians or the most radical women refused to serve. Sure, some lesbians enlisted but only so they wouldn’t be fingered. I hoped that none of them would cause a scene tonight and ruin the party. Maybe women who didn’t like the Erective Services shouldn’t have been allowed to speak out against it. 

December tended to bring out more May-December pairings than usual. I can guess how much the prettiest eighteen-year-olds commanded, perched next to senior (and I mean senior) executives. If I had known when I was eighteen how much the younger ones made, I wouldn’t have waited until I was twenty-five to enlist. The December whores did well this time of year too, guiding their May johns in proper party etiquette now and proper pairing later. 

My eyes popped out of my head when I spotted the legendary Tubi Tamarice, who graduated at the top of the first Courtesan Corp class and who coined the term “Cunt Camp.” She had to have been almost seventy. She retired from teaching before I had enlisted but she never retired from whoring and with her grace and beauty, who could blame her? If only I had my Handbook with me for her to autograph. 

~~~ 

Seeing Tubi there made me reminisce about my Cunt Camp graduation ceremony – the first time that any of us got paid. No freebies! Every one of the men paid us the going rate for novices. We had all heard the rumors about how intense the Cunt Camp ceremony was and they were all happily true. My handmade bedding was neatly aligned on the floor with the ones around me and the assembly hall was filled to the walls (just the way I liked it) with twenty-five freshly forged members of the Courtesan Corps. 

After the procession, we lay on our mats like twenty-five stars with our limbs outstretched and hands and feet touching. The ceremony literally started (and ended) with a bang. With one voice, we shouted out, “Fuck! Me!” 

I was proud of how eager the men were to take their turn with me; I had earned my bad reputation. The room was filled with manly grunts and over-the-top maidenly moans. I was exceptionally accomplished at feigning appreciative sounds, from guttural purrs to stretching out the “y” in “yes!” 

“Yyyyess, yes, oh, yyessss!” 

You could hear it, right? I swear I’ve convinced some one-and-doners that they had just given me the best orgasm evah. 

Big screens dotted the walls with live, ongoing coverage. I saw one hand-held camera coming my way and upped my performance (as if that was necessary). My tongue darted in and out of my drooling, slightly open mouth, and my eyes rolled so far back that there was no way you could tell my eye color (naturally emerald green). We each got a share of the broadcast rights and were told that they might pay bonuses for outstanding performances. 

“Yyyyeth, yeth, oh, yyyeththth!” 

People have mentioned, and rightfully so due to hours and hours of practice, that I had the best resting “O” face. When I went out, I always, always looked like I had just gotten laid. 

The guy fucking me was pretty good, not make-me-cum good, but not bad. He pulled out and I moaned again with every splash of his hot spunk on my belly. 

“O!” 

Every man made sure not to cum inside me so they wouldn’t have to pay the cum-in surcharge and cleaning fee. Sure, many men would have gladly cleaned up after themselves (more than you might have thought) or even cleaned up from the guy before him but they signed off on the rules when they bought their tickets. 

For the fourteenth, maybe fifteenth time, I sensually swiped through the sticky deposit and placed it on my tongue, audibly pulling my finger away from my pursed lips. “Mmmm, so good.” It wasn't, but that wasn't what mattered. What mattered was that he believed that he finished his job and made a woman appreciate him, which freed his mind to think about and do the important things that men think and do. 

“Clarity before parity!” we were taught. 

~~~ 

The office party had a mannerly dress code. Hems had to be at least four inches above the knee, and panties were required but no thongs were allowed. Going braless was okay, even preferred, as long as there was no unseemly flopping about. I wore a ruby red dress with emerald sequins. It was barely long enough to cover my white bikini panties and its neckline dipped below the promise of my perky tits which bounced, not flopped. 

My john was a bit of a wise-ass and made me jump for a jumbo shrimp, which was difficult to do in my four-inch sparkly sandals. I was properly embarrassed that my dress lifted and exposed my underwear. “You’re bad,” I scolded and stared at his crotch just long enough for him to notice. 

I was quite certain at this point that he should be relieved of some penile pressure. Since this party wasn’t that kind of party, I couldn’t squat and suck him off right then and there. “Hey, Baby, why don’t you take me to another room so I can get something else to eat. And drink.” 

“What was your name again?” 

“I’m Chippie, silly, you knew that. You can’t fool me into thinking you didn’t know.” Most johns didn’t remember their whores’ names and I thought it was sweet of him to ask. 

He tugged my wrist and dragged me away. I pretended to stumble a little but the truth was I could have outrun him even in my stilettos. We passed a couple of blow jobs and a good pounding fuck against a wall before we found a covert corner that we could call our own. 

I knelt and deftly retrieved his manhood from its confines. I gulped it down, coughed it up, and slurped it out. “You have the perfect cock,” I told him as I lifted and dropped my dress’ straps to expose my tip-top tits. I bobbed over his cock, never looking away from his face so that he could see how grateful I was to be sucking him off. 

I gave him the impression that I was gagging with every one of his thrusts – a lesser throat than mine might have been threatened. It wasn't that his cock was small, it was that I was that good. I made sure any drool missed my dress and I managed to squeeze out a tear or two. “Not so rough, Baby, it’s so big!” 

I was ready to consume his cum when he announced that he was going to put it on my face. 

“Let me taste it,” I whined. I didn’t want to mess up my makeup. 

He pulled it out of my mouth and jerked on it, aiming it right between my eyes. “I like to watch,” he said. 

I replaced his hand with mine and tipped it toward my chest as I stroked him faster. “How about my tits, then?” 

He grabbed me by the hair and shook my head into position. I got the message. “Yeah, Baby, cover my face with your sweet, sweet cum!” I let the first jet hit me on my forehead and the rest of it fell on my cheeks. At least I wouldn’t have to redo my eyes. 

I cleaned most of his cock before I was dismissed. He told me to fix myself up and, “Leave me alone when you come back. I got some networking to do.” 

My mission was accomplished! With his head temporarily freed of any base, intrusive thoughts, he was able to tend to business, even at a party. 

I re-joined the group after repairing my face and tried not to flirt to excess. I recognized the whore who was getting fucked in the hallway and gave her a little wave. I had taken only one step to mingle before I heard someone say my name. 

“Chippie?” 

“Libby!” My bestie from high school was there! She was one of the dowdier women at the party that I had criticized earlier – no wonder I hadn’t recognized her. We lost touch when she enlisted at eighteen and reconnected when her two years were over. She left with high ratings but confessed that she hated whoring. Her opinion of whoring was the reason I waited so long to enlist. Libby was a smart girl and with her service record, she got a job that paid an above-nominal fifty-five percent of standard. 

We hung out a lot until she abruptly moved away. I was so happy that she was back again and we hugged and hooted. I was a little worried about the kinds of girls she was with, though. “Who did you come here with?” I asked. “You don’t work here, do you?” 

Before she could answer, I heard a manly voice behind me. “Well, I suppose this is as good a time as any for the two of you to meet.” 

I was surprised to see that my john had joined us and I tried to figure out what he meant by that.  

Libby put her arm in his and spoke demurely. “Hayden - Chippie’s your whore?” She turned toward me and lowered her eyes which I found peculiar since she had probably fucked hundreds of married men when she whored – there was no reason for her to be embarrassed. The curious thing was that my john, Hayden, hadn’t paid for a threesome. 

Hayden leaned so that his wife could whisper something to him. “Nonsense!” He kissed her forehead. “I think it will be even more fun since you two were friends.” Libby stiffened when Hayden reached under her dress and gasped when he reached his target. He was discreet, I’ll give him that, but it was still rather bold and tacky to do that in the open. If he had been caught, at least it was only his wife and not a whore. 

“Darlin’, why don’t the two of you catch up and bring the car around while I say goodbye to our hosts?” 

We left and walked quietly at first. “Are you surprised that I married?” Libby had to have known what my answer would be. 

“I guess – a little. Where did you go? You were back home for only a year after your service.” 

“Another district to the west where they’re more tolerant of women who give it away.” There was obviously more to that story but I didn’t press her. She gave me a squeeze and told me that I looked spectacular. “When did you sign up? The last that I knew, you weren’t sure if you would ever want to be a whore.” 

I reminded Libby about an acquaintance in my building, Cellie.  She was thirty-and-a-half and enlisted literally at the last second. “When she came home from Cunt Camp, she told me over and over how much she was kicking herself for not joining up years ago. She told me to go talk with a recruiter right away.” 

Libby scoffed. “I never really talked with one. I marched into their store and told them I wanted to get this over with.” 

“Not me. I wanted to learn more but I must say that he had me sold after my first visit.” 

~~~ 

I had gone to the closest store and told the recruiter that I wasn’t sure about enlisting. He told me about some benefits like better jobs for veterans and that the Corps matched contributions to dowry accounts. 

He had me sit in a comfortable chair and gave me a VR headset. Before I knew it, three hours or more had passed and I was super-aroused about serving. I masturbated all night and showed up as soon as he opened the doors the next morning. 

He told me to go home and come back after I thought about it some more. He wasn’t some smooth talker, and he didn’t act like there were any quotas. Nobody was sitting in that chair and I asked if I could use it again. 

He shrugged. “I’m not supposed to, but I guess it’s okay. You’ll have to stop if somebody else comes in.” 

I was at Cunt Camp the following Saturday. 

~~~ 

Libby drove up to the house and opened the car door to let Hayden drive but he slammed it shut. “You drive. I’m going to fuck your whore friend in the back.” 

I giggled at his double-entendre when he wiggled a finger against my little brown star. I sat on his lap facing forward and winked at Libby in the rear-view mirror. I generously lubed my ass and carefully lowered myself onto his solid rod. 

“Drive.” 

Libby put the car in gear while I shifted his stick. “Oh, oo, yeah, nice…” I saw Libby’s head shake a little; I guessed that she noticed that I used the textbook anal sex noises. Hayden and I were in my favorite butt-fucking position where I had some control and access to my pussy but he pulled my hands away from my lap before I could even start. 

“No cheating.” 

“Baby, please, it takes a special man to make me come when he’s in my ass. Oh, oo, yeah, you’re special, I can tell. Nice, oh, oo…” I wriggled my ass and clamped down on the cock that was buried in my guts. I squeezed my cunt around nothing and tried to get myself off that way. A genuine orgasm always led to a better client experience. 

We bounced over some potholes which upset my rhythms but obviously added to his pleasure. Libby must have hit them on purpose but I wondered whether she did it for him or to me. I could tell when he was about to pop so I leaned forward and double-timed my humps. I screamed out right before his first spurt. 

“Yyyyess, yes, oh, yyessss! Fill my ass!” 

After he was done, he shoved me off but told me not to sit down. “Don’t make a mess on the upholstery,” he warned. I held onto the passenger seat with my clenched ass in the air until we got to their place. Libby mouthed, “Sorry” when I climbed out. 

“Libb, show the whore where to get cleaned up.” After that, Hayden ignored us and he let himself into their house. 

I was slow from being sore. As we walked, my curiosity got the better of me. “Why did you marry this guy?” 

“I was young and had only served two years. I wanted a better place to live, a better life – someone to take care of me. I saved what I could for my dowry and found Hayden.” 

“You could have re-enlisted.” 

“I couldn’t. It broke me. Being a whore broke me.” 

She took me to a bathroom once we were inside. “You can clean up here. The bedroom is down there. Give me your clothes; he’ll expect you naked.” 

Libby couldn’t have meant what she said. I wet a cloth and washed. How could being a whore break someone? I touched up my makeup. I loved whoring. I was planning to re-up. 

When I found their room, Libby was sitting straight-backed on a hard chair, wearing a sheer, white, floor-length gown. Hayden was naked and his cock had recovered somewhat. He lowered some wrist restraints and ordered me to stand on the bed. Mild BDSM didn’t cost extra. 

Hayden bound my wrists and raised my arms over my head. He tied off the rope with my weight evenly distributed between my arms and legs. I was helpless but not uncomfortable. Libby looked at me, looked away, and looked again, taking me in from head to toe. Her hands shook as she slowly raised the hem of her gown and massaged herself between her legs. 

“You don’t look at her!” Hayden shouted at me. He slapped my ass hard enough to make the rope spin a little. Libby flinched when I flinched. She moaned when I hadn’t. He cupped my buttocks, lifted me to his mouth, and flung one of my legs over his shoulder. I moaned and flung the other. 

I never understood why a man would want to be good at licking a woman but was always glad when they were. I arched back to give him as much access as he wanted. Libby was out of my line of sight but sometimes her squishing sounds were louder than his slurping sounds – I could guess what she was doing. 

I tightened my legs around his neck, ready to O, when he stopped and dropped me. I was left hanging and left hanging. 

“Wife!” he barked. “Get me hard so I can fuck your whore-friend!” Libby dropped to her knees and took his half-hard-on into her mouth. “Oh, yeah, you learned somethin’ when you were whorin’, didn’t ya?” 

She seemed happy at that comment and worked even harder until he shoved her away. The rubbery snake that had once dangled between his legs became a stone phallus, carved by Libby’s tongue. 

Hayden lay on his back with his head facing Libby’s chair. She lowered me enough to slip my cunt over his cock and no lower. He laughed at my attempts to hump him with my arms in the air and my knees barely touching the mattress. 

Libby scurried back to her chair and bunched her gown at her waist. “Fuck the whore,” she demanded as she squashed a tit with one hand and sloshed around her cunt with the other. Hayden held my hips and thrust up. 

“Oh, yeah,” he moaned. 

“Oh, yeah,” she echoed. 

“Oh, fuck,” I cried.  

This was getting recklessly close to becoming an unpaid threesome. 

Hayden knew how to fuck but my clit wasn’t getting any love. I tried to shake a hand loose and I was unable to twist my body to make contact. 

“Hey, whore,” Libby taunted while spreading her pussy open. She pinched and flicked her own engorged clit. “Is this what you’re looking for?” She laughed a cruel laugh that I wouldn’t ever have expected to come from her. They knew exactly what they were doing. 

Hayden kept fucking me up, never letting up even after Libby came. She sucked air in between her teeth, looked me dead in the eye, and mocked me. “Yyyessss!” 

I positioned myself to get the most out of his thrusting cock and was rewarded with my own climax that was lit in my belly and exploded throughout my body. “Fuck you,” I spat at my friend. 

Hayden pulled down on my hips when he came, adding his weight to my tired arms and shoulders. After his balls were emptied, he let go but kept my pussy plugged with his cock. 

“Well?” he asked his wife. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t.” 

“Maybe you should.” 

My old, dear, self-described broken friend Libby bit her lower lip, straightened up, and asked me, “How much?” 

I had to play dumb. “For what?” 

“You. Me.” 

I didn’t believe what she said. “And him,” I added for her. 

“Sure. And him.” 

The rules were the rules. A woman couldn’t buy a whore unless she was for a man. She knew that. 

“No pictures.” I couldn’t risk having to explain myself to the authorities. She agreed. I told her how much. She agreed. 

“Okay.” 

Hayden withdrew his withered cock and Libby’s mouth and tongue quickly replaced it. I suspected that she would do that but still hoped that she wouldn’t. I hoped that she would simply play-act at muff diving like we were taught to do because men liked to watch two women do stuff – stuff that wasn’t quite legal. 

I could feel Hayden’s seed get scooped and sucked out of my cunt. I tried not to cum but my traitorous, horny clit didn’t care who was sucking on her. I swallowed my moans and pretended that none of this was happening. 

She got up on her knees and tried to kiss me – really kiss me. I kept my lips tight against each other and made fake kissing noises. Hayden joined us and probed me with his tongue. Of course, I opened my mouth for him. I would open any hole for any man who paid for it. We kissed passionately and I felt her lips brush my cheek and her nose bump against mine. I turned away but he made room for her on my mouth and I relented. 

I tasted his cum and my cunt on her tongue. Her lips were so soft. I kissed back eagerly until the cum and cunt were gone and we tasted only each other. 

“I’m sorry,” Libby mouthed. 

Hayden released my restraints and sternly told me to leave. “Now.” 

I called for transport and dressed. Libby was trying unsuccessfully to get her husband’s cock hard again. I’m not sure if they knew or cared that I was still there as she yanked on it and sucked on it. “I need you to fuck me!” she sobbed. She climbed on top of him and stuffed what she could of his thick limpness inside her. 

The last thing that I heard as I got into the car was her screaming, “You managed to fuck your whore!” 

Of course he did, I thought to myself. What else was she expecting? 

As bizarre as my day was, the only thing that bothered me was that Libby risked so much. Letting a man indulge in a lesbian fantasy is one thing but actual lesbian behavior could get us all in trouble. I told myself that this was probably an elaborate plan that her husband cooked up. I’m sure that she didn’t like it any more than I did.