Forced Outside Her Comfort Zone

Julie enjoyed a pampered life as a normal, modest (though highly sexed), suburban housewife. But now that all was changing, possibly forever, after her husband Brad suddenly lost his high paying corporate job. At first neither of them felt worried. Surely a man with his experience would easily find a comparable, if not superior, job before too long. In the meantime they made the most of their increased leisure time together. With a pandemic raging around them, much of that time was spent indulging themselves at home, quite frequently in bed. For them, there was nothing like a good orgasm to banish all of life's anxieties.

But weeks passed into months, and no good job offers materialized. Soon their savings were fully depleted, and one after another of their credit cards maxed out. Actually they never had much savings to begin with. To them living well and living frugally was a total contradiction. Money seemed to flow through their hands as quickly as it fell into them, but now the spigot was running dry.

As the bills piled up her husband's self confidence crumbled, until Brad was reduced to a shadow of his former self.He stopped applying for high paying jobs, fearing the seeming certainty of another crushing rejection. Daily he became less sure of himself, even in the bedroom. Sex inside their marriage, which had always been carefree, ceased to be reliable fun, or more to the point, Brad ceased to be reliable.

Two days after a particularly disappointing tryst, Brad informed Julie that he finally had lined up some work, two new jobs in fact, both in the service industry. Neither of them,however, paid well. Between the two he brought home a small fraction of his former income, not nearly enough to make ends meet, and the cumulative long hours Brad now worked kept him away from home, and from Julie, almost all of the time. In her darker moments she wondered if that in fact was why Brad chose those jobs. When her husband got home now late at night, on the days when he wasn't working overnights, he was always "too exhausted" for sex. In his depression Brad was building a wall around left alone on the other side.

Julie became depressed, both by their increasingly dire economic straits and by a growing sense of physical estrangement from the man she had always counted on to be there for her, to provide for her every need. Fear, however, finally forced Julie into action on her own. They had fallen behind on mortgage payments on their dream suburban house, and Julie was increasingly becoming desperate over the prospect of losing it. At first she diligently tried to find a respectable job that would pay her decently, but Julie (who had never really worked a day in her life) soon discovered that she had no marketable skills - outside of a bed that is.

So she lied to Brad, reassuring him that she soon would be bringing in good money from a new gig selling costume jewelry to other well off wives in the neighborhood, but the truth was that she had already failed miserably when she attempted to do just that. However that innocent enough sounding lie offered Julie a perfect cover for what she knew she inevitably had to explore next, selling her own body to strangers outside of her marriage.

With no prior experience with the sexual underworld, and lacking any personal connections with the denizens who inhabited it, Julie was unsure if a way she could venture into it. Finally an idea, more of a vision really, came to her. On one of the many nights when Brad would not be coming home, she stepped anxiously into her dressing room. After hesitating for several moments, Julie reached into the back of her closet to retrieve a lovely, but uncomfortably sheer, silk blouse that her husband had bought for her on their last anniversary.

Her hands trembled as she stripped out of the conservative top she was wearing, before draping the mere wisp of white silk of his gift blouse over her naked breasts. Julie had only worn it once before, with Brad on their anniversary. On that occasion she insisted on wearing a bra beneath it, since he always preferred that she do without one. When Julie informed Brad of her one condition he grinned slyly, and handed her a brassier he specifically purchased for her to wear under that blouse.

Seeing the urgent twinkle in his eye Julie understood that refusing him was not really an option, not if she wanted her husband happy on a day that meant so much to them both. Now, standing alone in her dressing room, fumbling to fasten enough of the buttons on the rear of that silk blouse to walk out into the night without him, Julie was flooded with strong memories of that prior evening spent wearing the same silk blouse for Brad.

He arranged for them to dine at the most elegant restaurant in town. Brad vowed that their table would be secluded, hidden from the view of other diners. He reserved it (at a premium) for that very reason, in a small alcove that most other patrons didn't even know existed. Julie was taken aback though, upon their arrival, to discover that their alcove was far better lit than the main room of the restaurant where they previously had dined, which was always tastefully shrouded in the dim ambiance of candles and indirect lighting,

Here, to Julie's great discomfort, they were fully illuminated by a crystal chandelier, which cast white light down directly onto their table. The seating however was, as Brad had promised, very private. Given her indecent attire Julie was relieved by that. Pretty much only their waiter would be able to view her sitting there, and Julie resolved to block him out of her mind to the maximum extent possible, and to focus only on Brad instead.

Even so, Julie tensed up visibly when their waiter, a vaguely unpleasant man in both appearance and demeanor, quickly became overly attentive to her every need, at times hovering mere inches over her shoulder as he obsessively refilled Julie's water glass almost every time she touched it. Her husband didn't seem to mind the excessive male attention being lavished on his wife, she noted. If anything Brad smiled more broadly whenever the man leaned over her.

This blouse is nearly transparent, Julie thought, cringing under the waiter's intense gaze which he made little effort to disguise, and my bra is virtually see through. I am pinned here almost topless for this creep to savor at will, she realized, struggling to contain a growing sense of panic. Why did Brad insist that I wear this outfit to go out with him tonight? But Julie already knew the answer to that question. Brad always liked to see Julie provocatively dressed, and he wanted other men to view her that way also. Brad was proud of her body, Julie knew, and of her breasts in particular. He felt a special glow in her presence, especially when other men responded sexually to Julie.

This time though was more extreme than usual. Brad was using their anniversary as an excuse to fulfill a fantasy. That explained his gift of an exquisite, but scandalously sheer, blouse to her, accompanied by a see through bra. Brad wanted to reveal Julie's breasts to a stranger, and had gone to great effort to do just that. Not wanting to disappoint the man she was happily married to, against her better judgment (or so she thought at the time) Julie went through with this carefully choreographed display of her body. In truth she felt totally powerless to back out of any of it now.

Though the evening began with Julie distressed and ill at ease, Brad made sure to keep top tier champagne flowing, and between the steady onslaught of her favorite alcoholic beverage, and Brad's repeated assurances of how stunningly beautiful she looked, Julie became progressively less self conscious about her semi-lewd exposure. Increasingly intoxicated, Julie finally relaxed and fell into a warm sensual stupor, under the watchful eye of the man she loved, and his chosen witness.

Reflecting back on that fateful evening, Julie knew she was right to have pleased Brad that way. She saw how happy it made him, and ultimately that made Julie happy too. Nothing had gone wrong. Her worst fears never materialized. Though their waiter was lecherous, he never laid a finger on her. Julie went home that night with her honor fully intact, to some of the hottest sex the eager couple had ever known.

God, what she wouldn't do to have sex like that again, she wistfully recalled. Her husband was almost a different man, animal like in his intensity, trying to devour every inch of her naked flesh, owning and consuming his most prized possession, the woman he had married. After all this time though, Julie was forced to admit, she could never erase the waiter's leering face from her mind, or forget the pure lust her tits had kindled in his eyes. If revealing her veiled breasts to a stranger could elicit that type of response, she would try it out again tonight, only this time for cold cash. And this time there would be no bra to partially obscure Julie's pink and stiffening nipples from the view of men drawn toward them.

While she had never ventured into that part of the nearby city before, Julie knew exactly where its red light district lay. Everyone did, the local news invariably covered some titillating story that for some reason took place at least once or twice a month there. It was long notorious for harboring low life, a place politicians repeatedly vowed to clean up but never did, an urban blight that Julie and her like minded friends reflexively looked down upon. Now, however, it was her destination, a mere 40 minute drive from her quiet suburban neighborhood, but located in a different universe. She almost turned around three times before she reached its outskirts. But she didn't, she couldn't, she knew she had no choice.

The streetlights all shown dimmer once she exited the main road. Julie drove around nervously for almost a half hour, staring at the seedy array of liquor stores, porn movie houses and adult book stores that dominated the neighborhood whose streets were inhabited by a type of rough and disheveled men, each one looking more homeless than the next, that she had never previously crossed paths with. The idea of meeting one now, and possibly allowing him to physically touch her, was horrifying to Julie, and instinctively repulsive.

Suddenly Julie shuddered uncontrollably. She jerked the steering wheel hard right at a traffic light, and headed back toward the freeway and the safety of her home. But at the next corner that she came to she slowed her car to a crawl, and then turned right again. Julie did the same at the following corner. A sinking feeling rose from a tight knot in her stomach as she once again faced the abyss now looming in her windshield. There would be no escaping this fate, she knew, Julie couldn't leave this human cesspool empty handed, or soon she might be as homeless as all of the wretched men she saw lying drunk in the recesses of countless doorways she had driven by. After some more circling, and what seemed like an eternity, Julie picked out a parking spot in front of an old boarded up store front, locked her doors, and sat there frozen in her car, on the verge of tears.

Julie had found what she was looking for. Actually she had spotted and passed them on an earlier drive down the block, but it took awhile for Julie to screw up enough courage to actually park her car. There on the corner stood three women clustered together. Their high heeled boots looked incongruous to Julie in the setting of a slum, and they all were wearing impossibly short skirts, and tops that were either ridiculously tight or plunging low to (mostly) expose their breasts.

Julie's plan had been to locate one or more street hookers like these women, and then to approach them. What she would actually say to them she never had gotten clear on, but that proved not to be an issue. Alert to all of the comings and goings in a neighborhood as familiar to them as their own bedrooms, the streetwalkers had noticed Julie long before she noticed them.

One of them peeled away and walked over to the drivers side of Julie's car. Reaching out she tapped on the window, "What's the matter honey, you lost or something? You just don't look like the type of woman who belongs here." Leaning in closer she peered more closely at Julie, whose body was clearly illuminated by the glow from the nearby street light. "Hmmph", she said, and then she chuckled. "Or maybe you do. Damn, you got nice tits."

It didn't take long for the hooker to get the full story out of Julie, who by that time had half opened her window and begun to cry. There was something about Julie's obvious vulnerability, and truth be known, the soft swell of her breasts, that softened Jasmine's features - the two women were by now on a first name basis.

"Julie honey, I know you need some dough, and lord knows there are men who would gladly pay to use you. You still look put together for your age, and some Johns will figure they can fuck you at a discount. But the truth is, you won't last five hours out here on your own. Oh you might get lucky the first time or the second, but men can smell a newbie, and excuse my french, stumbling onto a rich bitch like yourself? They might not all be, well let's just say friendly. Out here you;re fresh meat for hungry lions."

There's some brothers on this street, that got a mean streak when they sink their teeth into white meat. You need someone to watch over you girl, to protect you, to hook you up with Johns who won't hurt you bad. A classy cunt like you shouldn't be working the streets. You need to be set up in a room, you know, in a whore house. Call it a brothel if you like the sound of that better."

"My man runs one on the side. It's illegal as sin, but at least you don't have to worry about getting busted there. A good pimp makes sure the heat gets paid, and Tyrone pays them all off well. Of course you won't make nearly as much as a kept whore as you otherwise might, but like I said Tyrone has a lot of expenses. He sure as hell pays better than Burger King though, or the money you can make hawking stupid trinkets. And Tyrone will keep you safe babe, make sure you go home in one piece. Shit, he'll even let you work regular hours if you want, and Brad don't need to know nothing about it. See, that's him over there. He been watching you girl. Tyrone he don't miss a thing. He told me to check you out."

With that, Tyrone stepped out of the shadows and approached the women, who now both stood leaning against Julie's car. Jasmine took Julie's hand in hers, then locked eyes with Tyrone and nodded. A quick grin momentarily lit up his angular dark feature., It wasn't particularly warm. This bitch is vulnerable, he thought to himself, lost and scared. Best to take charge quickly, while she was still emotionally drowning.

Jasmine introduced Julie to Tyrone, and he immediately took control. She dimly heard Tyrone assure her that everything would be OK, as he and Jasmine steered her up some stairs into a nearby flat. They seated Julie in a room that resembled an old time parkour, with walls adorned with paintings of nude women, most of whom looked half Julie's age. Tyrone told Jasmine to bring them drinks, and she quickly returned with scotch on the rocks. Smiling, Jasmine handed Julie a glass, "Here you go babe, drink this. You'll feel a lot better if you do. Just knock it down. Tyrone, he only serves the best." 

Julie obediently swallowed a large swig, quickly followed by another gulp, anything to calm her nerves. Tyrone nodded approvingly, and grinned again. This was always his favorite part, time to break her in.

The next few hours were a blur for Julie. She remembered being dressed but somehow now she wasn't. Her clothes lay on the floor, and Tyrone lay on top of her, grunting loudly while his fierce thrusts impaled Julie with a rock hard cock twice as big as her husband's. His pounding was painful to bear, but it didn't natter, somehow nothing seemed to matter. And then the darkness closed in again, as black as the body that was raping her violently. Julie awoke again in anguish, lying in a different room. She was pinned on her back in a contorted position, getting methodically fucked by a large and obese middle aged man, who dwarfed anyone she had ever known in bulk.

A pillow was shoved under Julie's ass, elevating her cunt to make it accessible to him despite the grotesque protrusion of her assaulter's stomach. Her legs were immobilized under his enormous girth, doubled back sharply above her naked torso, with her boobs flattened by pressure from her own thighs being rhythmically forced down upon them. Suddenly her assailant screamed out and Julie felt him empty his seed inside her, "Aw fuck! You cunt, cunt bitch FUCK!" Exhausted he then collapsed, with his full weight resting on her, suffocating Julie in the folds of his sweaty flesh.

Julie struggled to breathe, lying crushed beneath this man, unable to talk let alone scream. But who would care even if she could? They might only be angered by resistance from her, leading to God only knows what worse fate. After a seeming eternity, the behemoth rolled his body off of Julie. Looming over her heaving chest, he stared down into her tear streaked face with malevolent indifference, then spat on her before he left.

Julie's world was spinning as another man showed up to mount her, and then the next. As each man stumbled out spent, another would enter the room to take his place inside her. Most were older than her husband, and some of them emitted a strong sour stench, but they each attacked Julie with wild abandon, squeezing, pulling, probing and biting the most intimate parts of her body, with no regard for what Julie wanted, or could handle. Perversely, that seemed to make the sex more intense for Julie. The rougher they got, the stronger her orgasm, or more accurately orgasms, became. Three hours and eight men later, Tyrone appeared again.

"I see you've met some of the locals" he said, laughing at her. Then he told Julie to take a short break "to freshen up." A large group of men, "a crew" he called them, would be arriving soon. They had Julie reserved for at least four hours. "Hope you like gangbangs" he told her. "We do a lot of them here, they're our house specialty. The Johns will use you hard, in all your holes repeatedly. They might do more than that. With a bitch your age they looking for a cheaper pound of flesh, and a chance to do to you what they can't do no where else. They expect more bang for the buck from older whores.“

Tyrone might as well have slapped Julie in the face. His sudden entrance, his harsh words and jeering tone, crashed her hard to earth, falling out of the sex and pain crazed hormone and adrenaline fueled delirium that had engulfed her nonstop for hours. Julie's ass cunt and breasts were throbbing wildly as she lay there naked on a filthy mattress, soaked in the sweat, saliva and semen of a dozen men, defenseless under Tyrone's unblinking gaze. Looming above her, his cold eyes stripped Julie to her core, consuming her flesh, leaving no doubt he was viewing Julie as his personal property..  

"A white girl like you will be treated rough" Tyrone continued. "Don't count on none of that gentle shit. Rich white cunts been calling us niggers all our lives, here the tables are turned. Maybe you ain't racist, but no one's gonna know or care. The brothers ain't paying for no fucking conversations. A lot of them looking for payback more than sex. I cater to that here. You'll feel the difference right away, ain't nothing subtle about it.”

"I keep cameras on you at all times, I set them at different angles. Ain't nothing good gets missed. I'll be watching you bitch, mostly for your safety, but I like a good show too. Don't bother trying to hide your face, I got it on film already, including smoking hot closeups of the multiple orgasms your white ass already had. When it gets freaky enough, like it just got with you, I edit that shit together and save it. Johns can buy a copy if they want.”

Julie's stomach convulsed as she heard those last words. She had just been reduced to a cum soaked fuck toy by more men then she could remember, and every minute of her degradation was on film, available to the perverts who used her. But that wasn't what terrified her most. Julie sensed what was coming next. She was right.

"Any hint of trouble from you," Tyrone went on, "it all goes on the dark net. I'll see that Brad gets his own personal copy, maybe your parents and neighbors too. I been through your wallet, Julie, I know exactly where you live. Play your cards right, you can crawl home before dawn tonight, before Brad knows where you been. You need to put in a full shift first, then we'll see about that. I'll assign your next hours if and when I let you leave. Fail to show up for that shift, bitch, and you'll regret it for the rest of your pathetic short life. You really don't want me hunting you down when I'm feeling mean girl, trust me on that.”

"Everything Jasmine told you about this place is true, Julie. Ain't no one gonna hurt you bad, not while you're my whore. Nothing that's permanent anyway. Your tits and ass are more valuable to me intact.” And with that Tyrone was done with her, for now. He flashed a last cold smile and left, firmly closing the door behind him as he exited. She heard a dead bolt slide into place."

Julie was buffeted by warring emotions, fear definitely, but also the aftermath of lust. Tyrone's words flew past Julie like birds of prey, each sinking claws in her fevered mind. More than anything Julie was overwhelmed by sharp disjointed memories of non stop raw passion and pain, a blizzard of conflicting sensations that reduced Julie to a quivering mass, her spent nude body splayed across the wet stained mattress, like a rag doll abandoned by the side of a road.

The "break", if you call it that, Tyrone gave Julie was short, barely long enough to stifle her tears and clean out her bruised crotch. Holding the sperm coated wash cloth in her hand, Julie fell back into a trance of sorts, reliving being nothing but raw white meat penetrated by strangers.  Abruptly she got jarred back to the present by the sound of loud footsteps, and coarse male bantering, approaching her from down the hall. To her amazement, Julie realized she was grinning.

This whole whore thing, she was just starting to understand, might work out much better than she expected.