A Certain Perception

He glanced at the tray on the table.

"There's perks, too. Lots and lots of perks."

It was almost as if the words had come from Kyra's lips, not his. I knew she had put Darius up to this. For this little stage play, he was to be my 'pimp' and... boyfriend? Wherever she was watching from, I knew she had to be enjoying every moment of it as much as I. Well, Darius had his role to play and so did I. I wuz gonna make this good!

"Baby, you know what a ho' like me wants. I wan' cock. I wan' be used. I wan' befucked! I wan' take care of bus'ness. I wan' men t' pay me to suck their cocks and fuck 'em. I's gots what all the boys want. You think so, don't you, Mistah Darius?"

He nodded smugly.

"But what about you 'n Kyra?"

"Fuck Kyra! That bitch ain't even laid a hand on me in o'er a month. Can you believe dat? Besides, she ain't even heah! I's heah. I belongs heah. Check out these goods. You want a piece o' dis, don' you Mistah Darius? Don' you think the other boys will, too? I's the ho' heah, not Miss 'My Shit Don' Stink' Kyra. Thas all I wan'. Thas all I ever wan'. You down with dat, ain't choo, Mistah Darius? You wan' me t' be the ho' I wuz meant t' be, don' choo?"

He beamed.

"Whatever you say, Sweetness."

Just then there was a loud knock at the door. I heard him mutter under his breath.

"Here we go, Baby Girl. It's Showtime."

He went to the door and opened it. I heard voices but sat dazed, not even turning my head in my dreamy stupor. My head was spinning. I felt so high - and so horny! Darius reappeared in front of me. There were other men, too. My 'boyfriend' grinned broadly.

"Here she is, just like Kyra promised. Ain't she a sight? The bitch is well-trained, too. She says shewants it. Let's give it to her real good. Kyra says she likes that."

I was in a surreal dreamland, relaxed and very aroused. I felt hands all over my body. The tray was removed and I was bent over the table. Fingers probed my tits and ass. One slippery finger invaded my shemale pussy, once, twice, three times, getting it good and slick with generous globs of lube. I let out an involuntary moan like the eager slut I was. I heard someone say, "C'mon, Darius; bust that white ass!" I felt pressure, then something big - really big - thrust into my ass. I arched my back and let out a whimper. A long, slow push forced every inch into me. I felt it bottom out and the tingle of pubic hair against my asscheeks. I clamped down hard on the large intruder with my rectal muscles and heard a man's voice.

"Son-of-a-bitch! This cunt is milkin' my dick wit her ass muscles. You likes dat, don' choo, Bitch?"

I felt a hard slap on my ass and responded by wiggling my butt around.

The next memory I have was straddling a muscular black man. I think it was Darius, but things were a little fuzzy just then. I was bouncing up and down on his long cock. He pounded my ass hard. I had never had that much inside of me before - and it was real, too. Just then, another hard cock was rubbed across my lips. I opened wide and sucked it down greedily, like a kid with a lollipop. I couldn't have stopped even if I wanted to - and I sure didn't want to. The rest of the night was a kaleidoscopic whirl of surreal images: big Black men with big Black cocks, taking me again and again and again. There were images of me doing more lines of coke, too. I dozed off as the first rays of light peeked between the buildings outside the living room window....

I woke up alone, in bed, with a splitting headache, body ache, and chills. My cell phone was on the bedside table. I hadn't remembered seeing it there the night before, but there wasn't much Idid remember. I staggered to the bathroom and perched myself gingerly on the toilet. After a long pee, I discovered a note taped to the mirror above the sink. It was from Kyra.

I hope last night was as good for you as it was for me. The best is yet to come. Your clothes are in the closet and your makeup is in your vanity. Get cleaned up, do your face and hair like the slut you are, get dressed, then give me a call when you are ready. Be sure to wear something HOT!

I KNEW she had been watching from somewhere!

I remembered brief flashes of the night before. I clearly remembered surrendering myself to cock, cock, and more cock - and overwhelming pleasures of the flesh. I felt more submissive than I had ever felt before in my life - and a thirst for more. It looked like Kyra had 'more' in mind. This wasn't going to be a single-night birthday surprise, after all. After a night like THAT, I couldn't imagine what she would come up with next.

My head really hurt. I was thirsty, too. There wasn't any aspirin in the bathroom, so I went to the kitchen to find... something, anything. There was juice in the fridge. There was no aspirin, but Kyra had thoughtfully left my bottle of Demerol. I had never taken one for a headache, but pain was pain, ya know? I popped one, then chased it with a glass of juice. The juice was cold and tasted good.

It would take a while for the painkiller to kick in - if it was going to help at all. I needed somethingnow. I glanced towards the living room and noticed the tray of cocaine was still there, though somewhat depleted from the night before. I wonder.... I drew out a couple of lines as I had seen Darius do, then snorted them. Oh, yeah, that did it! Feeling much better, I returned to the bathroom.

I followed Kyra's instructions explicitly. I douched to clean my shemale pussy out. Then I showered, brushed my teeth, and gargled with mouthwash. There was a second tube of K-Y and self-stick pantyliners in the cabinet under the sink. Actually, there were several jumbo-sized tubes of the slippery lubricant. Had she bought a case for my birthday? Just what DID she have in mind? I lubed my love nest thoroughly because it felt like the right thing to do. I tucked, then pressed a pantyliner in place to hold everything in. Then, I returned to the bedroom to begin the long, loving process of making myself beautiful.

Kyra hadn't been kidding when she said my clothes were in the closet. It appeared my entire wardrobe of slutwear was hanging there, awaiting me. All my lingerie, corsets, and stockings were neatly folded in the drawers of my dresser. My shoes were arranged in racks. My boots all hung neatly on hangers. The vanity table and jewelry armoire I had thought resembled minewere mine. Every bit of my makeup and all my jewelry were at my disposal. My wife had gone to an extraordinary amount of trouble to make my birthday memorable. 'Overkill' would be an understatement. I would have to change outfits over two dozen times to wear everything that was hanging there. Was this all to create the right atmosphere to make my fantasy seem all the more real? Would Darius and his friends be willing to help us move all of it home again?

I was still learning to deal with my new, longer talons. This time, I would have to paint and dress alone. It was awkward at first, but I was inspired and learned quickly. The permanent makeup helped a lot. I didn't need that much, but I took my time; I wanted to make itperfect. When the job was complete, my practiced eye decided I looked just as trampish as with Dita's handiwork, if not more so.

The pain pill had long since kicked in on top of the cocaine. Everything was in soft-focus, kinda dreamy. I laced myself into a red satin corset with black lace insets and borders, reducing my torso to the wasp-wasted elegance that looked so good on my physique. I rolled sheer, jet-black stockings up my slender legs, adjusted them to make sure the back seams were arrow-straight, then fastened the tops to the corset's eight garters. I eased the ruffled red satin thong panty up my legs and positioned it over my hips, making certain everything was tucked in just so.

I slipped into a deep red satin minidress with long, off-the-shoulder sleeves and plunging neckline, front and back. This dress was really tight. It hobbled me to a twelve-inch gate and revealed more than it concealed. The matching red patent sandals had open toes, ankle straps, and six-inch stiletto heels. I donned gaudy, eye-catching red lacquered pendant earrings, matching beaded necklace and oversized wrist bangles to accessorize. I double-wrapped that same single slender gold chain around my dainty left ankle. I had some trouble manipulating the spring clasp with my talons, but it was something I had to learn. I got it eventually, and my outfit was complete.

Some generous spritzes of Obsession, a final fluff of my hair, and I wasdone, Baby! If this was what my sweetheart wanted, I couldn't be happier. Still, I wondered how today could possibly match the thrill of the night before.

I perched delicately on the edge of the bed and speed-dialed home from my cell phone.

"Good morning, Baby! Are you dressed and made up really slutty for me today?"

"Like I'm workin' it out on th' boulevard. You'd be proud o' me."

"Oh, I am proud of you, Baby! So, how are you this morning?"

"Wonderful. I had a headache 'n chills earlier, but I found sumpin' t' take care o' it."

"I'll bet you did. Now, tell me all about last night."

"But you was heah, watchin', wasn't you?"

"Of course I was, Sweetie. I want to hear about it in your own words.

It seems so much more intimate that way."

I related everything I remembered about the night before. There was one question I had to ask.

"How many was theah?"

"Baby, you took on five well-hung Black men last night. Not a single one of them was less than nine inches. I personally made certain of that. You know what they say: once you go Black, you can never go back. How do you feel now? Sore, or what?"

"No, not sore at all. I guess you done a good job o' breakin' me in. At th' time, it was a high I ain't never felt b'fo' - even wit' yo'. I 'member feelin' well-fucked when they wuz done wit' me. Now, I feel kinda dreamy - and horny again."

"Things go better with Coke, huh? It's OK, Baby; I know you are doing drugs with them. It's all part of theexperience. In fact, why don't you do a couple more lines right now? Just take the phone with you and describe it to me step by step. It will be like we are doing it together - like we have done everything together since we met."

I kept talking to her as I sashayed into the living room. I relayed the process of drawing the coke into lines, describing the rush it had given me the night before.

"Did you like it?"

"Oh, yeah."

"How many lines did you do last night?"

"Fo' at fust. I thin' I did mo' later, but I cain' be sho'."

"Then do four now."

"Now?"

"Yes, Baby. I want you to share the experience with me again, just the way you experienced it last night. Tell me when you are ready."

I drew out the additional lines.

"Ready."

"OK, do them."

I inhaled deeply, doing two lines in each nostril, then tapping each with my pinkie to make sure I got every crystal, just as the night before.

"Verry nice, Sugar. Isn't that sensationexquisite? All us working girls know that feeling. It's kind of a 'rite of passage' for us. There is only one more little step to go to make your fantasy complete."

"Wha's tha'?"

"Why, you have to go out anddateof course!"

"Date? Yo' mean, turn tricks - fo' money? Like a pros'tute?"

"That'sexactly what I mean. That is what all of this has been about, right? This is Saturday morning - oops, well, afternoon now. The room is paid up until check-out time Monday morning. For the rest of the weekend, youare a prostitute, just like you have always fantasized about. Just think of me as your 'Madam'. Now, I want you to sashay that gorgeous ass of yours out on the street and turn tricks for me. You will charge fifty dollars for a blowjob and one... no,two hundred dollars for a fuck. A girl who looks as good as you can get that easy.

"When I see you Monday morning, you will pay me twenty-five hundred dollars for the privilege of workin' it for me. After all, I went through a lot of effort setting you up as a hooker. If you don't have the money for me when I arrive, I may just have to keep you out there until you do. Of course, that would mean renting the room for another day - or more - and that much more expense foryou."

I gulped.

"I'm a...ho'? Can I do tha'?"

"Sugar, you aregoing to do that. You know you want to. You have always wanted to. Every moment of your life, everything you have struggled for and endured in the past year, has been leading to this moment. You are inexactly the right place, too. Look out your window."

I did. In broad daylight, there were at least a half-dozen brazenly-dressed girls strutting their stuff on the street - just as they had been the night before when I had first arrived. As overdressed as I felt for daytime, I would still fit right in with that group. I watched as one chatted with a man in a car, then got in. They drove away right before my eyes.

"Oh, my God!"

"That's right, Sugar. That neighborhood is notorious as THE place to go in this city to pick up a working girl. Even with all that competition, a gorgeous blue-eyed blonde with big tits and ass can pretty much write her own ticket - unless someone else is writing it for her. Face it; you are located smack dab in the middle of Hooker Central - exactly where a slut like youbelongs. Now, no more talk. Hustle your sweet ass down on that street and make me some money!"

I remembered that girl, that...whore getting into the car and driving away - to have sex with a complete stranger for money. The image in my head blurred a bit, then refocused. Suddenly, it wasme in that car, me accepting his money, me going down on him in some deserted alley - or bending over, exposing my sweet shemale cunt to his throbbing fuck pipe. I shivered - in pure, wanton lust.

Riding down in that elevator, strutting across the foyer, stepping out onto that street, head held high, stiletto-clad feet tapping "click-click-click" down the sidewalk, was the most profound thrill in a seemingly endless string of thrills that had punctuated this latest, best year of my life. I didn't care what other people would think when they saw me. I knew I looked damn good. I knew no man would be able to resist me. I knew, at long last, I hadarrived! There were no words to describe the overwhelming gratitude I felt for my beautiful wife, who had made my dream come true!

The other bitches were wary of me at first, protective of their 'turf'. It was just like my experiences in the dance clubs. I knew how to approach them, what to say, how to say it, how to blend in. As Kyra had predicted, my easy familiarity with their language was disarming. My connection with Darius was the key that flung the door wide open. In no time, it was like we had been ho'in' together all our lives. I hadn't realized how many of those gorgeous girls I had seen the night before were T-Girls like me. More to the point, they were all Darius's girls. He and his crew ran all the action in this part of town. The girls each paid him a percentage of 'the take' for the privilege of workin' the 'hood, unmolested by cops or other thugs.

The next two days were a nonstop orgy of cock and coke. I hardly ate. I slept but a few hours Sunday morning, after dawn, when the dates had returned to their homes to sleep it off. Dating was one long, sustained thrill ride. As I expected, the men couldn't keep their eyes - or hands - off me. Between midnight Saturday and three AM Sunday, I was spending more time in cars than struttin' my stuff on the sidewalk. I raised my prices to discourage the 'tourists' and give myself a breather. They paid it. I raised my prices again. They were willing to paythat.

Darius checked up on me every couple of hours. He filled me up with his huge cock, taking his pleasure - and mine. I think he wanted me to know that no matter how many men I dated, he would always be the biggest and best. There was no danger of me ever losing sight of that. His mammoth manhood felt so good, so right, buried to the hilt inside my love nest. He kept me well-supplied with Blow, too. Darius made sure I stayed on a nice, sustained high all weekend. He gave be a beautiful present; an ornate silver vial with screw-on lid. The lid had a small, long-stemmed silver spoon built into it. That way, I could carry my Blow with me in my purse, instead of having to rush back to my room between dates for my next hit.

When he showed up Sunday evening, Kyra was with him. I was more surprised than upset.

"I - I wasn't 'spectin' you 'til t'morra. I don' has all th' money yet."

"Give me what you have, Sugar."

My girlfriend collected the money I had made. I was about $500 short. I knew I could make that Sunday night, easy. Kyra just smirked at me, tsk-tsking and shaking her head with distain. Instead of putting the money in her purse, she turned and handed it to Darius.

"A promise made is a promise kept. You were good to me, good for me. Thank you - foreverything."

I thought she was thanking him for helping her set up my perfect fantasy weekend. Considering the amount I had just handed her, it seemed like a pretty outrageous 'tip' for two days. Whatever.... I was really enjoying all of this. We sat down on the couch - them on either side, me in the middle. Kyra winked and smiled approvingly as I did more lines of coke, then snuggled up with my muscular boyfriend. Then we watched two videos.

The first was a compilation of candid footage chronicling my entire transformation, starting with my earliest attempts at dressing up and makeup, through my surgeries, trips to the salon and tattoo parlor, everything up to and including my exit from the beauty salon Friday evening. There was nothing left to the imagination, no doubt whatsoever who "Gigi" had begun life as. The only thing missing - carefully edited out - was Kyra's guiding hand in my metamorphosis. Instead, reaction shots of her were craftily edited in. She appeared unsure, upset, but putting on a brave face. The overall impression was, this wasn't something she had wanted to do; she had done it to please me. She really was a good actress. If I hadn't been there, I would have believed her.

The second tape included my arrival at the hotel, my 'deflowering' at the hands of Darius and his crew, plus footage of me all day Saturday and Sunday. There had to have been video cameras hidden in every room of the apartment. There I was, popping pills, doing endless lines of coke and being fucked by the amazingly-endowed Darius. There were also scenes of me in my hotel bedroom, sucking and fucking men, accompanied by every whine, moan, and shriek. I was most astonished to see the outdoor footage. They - whoever "they" were, had taped me clandestinely as I stood on the corner, conversing with the other working girls and soliciting my dates. There was even a soundtrack, with me asking the tricks if they were dating, and offering them a "real good time" for the price I had judged them to be good for. I dimly remembered the two phrases "zoom lens" and "parabolic microphone".

I realized Kyra had bankrolled a really first-class professional surveillance to record my entire debauchment for posterity. They caught a good shot of me climbing into a convertible, accepting money from a date, then going down on him and making him come in my mouth. The camera had zoomed in to capture my face clearly, leaving no doubt it was me. There were several 'money shots'; cum shooting all over my face, oozing out around a fat cock stuffed in my ass - and me obviously loving every second of it.

There were other 'money shots', too - of me accepting the money up front, like the good little whore I had become. I certainly enjoyed watching all our 'home movies', reliving the highlights of the most eventful year of my life. I was grateful Kyra had gone to the trouble and expense of recording it all. When the time came for 'Michael' to return, it would be wonderful to have this souvenir to remember the most exciting time of my life.