Valerie Ch. 07

She got out of the car and entered the store. Thankfully, Sundays were slow and both Rachael and Giggy were there. Only Giggy was behind the counter. Rachael was standing next to it chatting to her partner. When they looked and saw her, Rachael grinned wide and hollered, "Valerie! It's so good to see you."

Running forward, she embraced Val, provoking a slight tensing in Valerie. Catching the movement, Rachael backed off a little. "Sorry, I forgot."

Valerie re-embraced, "No. It's all right. You were just being friendly."

"Look at you. I see you found a dominant." She observed, pointing to the still visible marks. "How did you get so many in such a short time? What's it been? Three weeks?"

"Almost four. It turns out I have a high pain tolerance, I think it's called. These are from Friday. We were celebrating and I was given the choice of pleasure or pain. I think you can tell what I chose. Anyway, I asked for a safe word scene."

"You asked for a safe word scene? After only four weeks? You've made some Mistress or Master very happy. What were you celebrating?"

"I fell in love with one of my fellow subs who also dominates me sometimes. A woman. Sally."

"A woman? You? Have you gone bi on us kiddo?"

"Not quite. With her, it seems so right and natural. As you noticed, I still have issues with other lesbians. It's getting better though. Plus, I get off on being forced into it."

"I see. More common than you would think. Now, you come in here wearing only a bra, which tells me you're doing a public scene. What orders do you have?"

"I need to get everything on this list and wear the starred items out."

"Hand it over. You're in Rachael's hands now. We'll have that list filled in no time."

Rachael, who, it turned out, was not actually working, expertly guided Valerie through the maze of the store, helping her pick out items that were best suited for her. With the store empty except for another lesbian couple browsing the dildos and strap ons, Rachael cheated some and let Valerie try some of the items on for size (at least the ones that did not involve any potential of body fluids). In the back room, Rachael helped her change into the new outfit.

"So, how is it, playing in public?"

"Humiliating. Embarrassing. Arousing. I'm so hot. I mean, look how wet I am."

Once she was dressed in the outfit and looking in the mirror, she was stunned. Every mark and welt was covered up by something she was wearing. Yet, she was clearly on display, intended to turn on anyone seeing her. Nothing was revealed, yet everything was available. Almost like a hooker.

"God, this is making me even hotter. Master says I'm a slut. I think he's right."

"As long as you aren't saying that like it's a bad thing."

"No, I love being a slut. Oh, I almost forgot. Sally and I are going to have a handfasting ceremony at Mephisto's before the next auction, and then Master is going to auction us off as a pair. I'd love it if you two were there."

"Dear, wild horses couldn't keep us away. We'll switch days with someone if necessary."

Hugging Rachael, she said, "You two are the best. Without your help back then, I might still be trying to figure out if this was for me."

She paid for the purchases, catching Giggy up on what was going on and then went outside. At the car, she found that Charles had locked the doors. Her window was opened a crack, letting him be heard. "Put your bags in the trunk."

The trunk had been remotely opened, allowing her to put everything in it. Returning to the door, she asked, "Master, may I get in?"

"No. There is a bar called Murphy's twelve blocks down the street. You're to walk there. Once there, go inside and have yourself some lunch. I'll be joining you there at some point in time. I'll be punishing you inside the bar. If anyone tries to pick you up, you're to decline, saying that your girlfriend would not approve. At least twice while you're waiting for me, you're to masturbate without cumming. You may do it anywhere you wish. But I want you wet and desperate when I arrive."

"Master, how long will I be alone?"

"You won't be alone. A gay couple will be there, ready to intervene if anyone attempts anything beyond flirting. And before you ask, I won't tell you what your punishment is going to be."

"Thank you, Master. I'll see you in a while."

Valerie turned away from the car and walked onto the sidewalk. She felt incredibly sexy, walking down the street dressed in such a fashion. She was very aware of the looks she was getting. "I'm not going to need to masturbate to stay aroused. Just the walking was going to do that." About halfway to the bar, she realized Master's plan. She saw a couple women up ahead, dressed similarly to herself. They were hanging out on the corners. One was bent over to the window of a car, talking to the driver. "Oh my God. Hookers. I'm on a street frequented by hookers, dressed like a hooker." Valerie was horrified, humiliation crawling up her body until her face felt hot and tears were in her eyes. She didn't understand why this was affecting her so strongly. There was something inherently different in being mistaken for a prostitute from being thought of as an easy woman, or a slut. She would much rather have paraded through the park naked than walk down that street, assumed to be a hooker.

It didn't get any better inside Murphy's. Women like to go to bars about as much as men, that's true. It's also true that some bars draw less women customers than others (sports bars, for example). Murphy's is one of those bars that most women won't enter a second time. Perhaps it was the sign, prominently displayed over the bar that said, 'No tricks.' Perhaps it was the halo of prostitutes in front of the bar. It could even have been the oppressive aura of cigarette smoke and stale puke you had to pass through to get to the door. Whatever it was, Valerie had increased the number of women in the bar to one. Every eye turned and looked. If there were any customers who didn't undress her with their eyes, she could not spot them.

There were about a dozen men inside, Charles not one of them. Most were seated at tables in twos and threes. There was one pair playing pool, a wad of cash weighed down on the ledge by a chalk cube. Only one was sitting at the bar, at the right end. The barkeeper pointed at the sign without a word. The confirmation of everyone's assumptions forced a red hue into her face, the humiliation she had been feeling complete, or so she thought. She could feel tears in her eyes, threatening to run freely and add to the embarrassment.

Moving in the hopes that the stares would stop, she walked to the left end of the bar, where it was darkest, and sat down. Looking at the handwritten menu on a small chalkboard, she figured the safest thing to have for lunch would be the chili. The bartender walked up.

"I haven't seen you here before, so a quick hit on the rules. If you aren't eating and drinking, you're out. If you turn a trick, you're out. Understood?"

"I'm not…"

His hand slapped the bar. "Don't go there. Do you understand?"

A tear ran down her cheek. "Yes," she answered meekly.

His voice softened a little, "I don't care what you do or whether you even do. But I won't lose my license over you. Now, what'll it be?"

"A…a bowl of chili and a bottle of Heineken?"

"Coming right up."

"Lady's room?"

"Back over there," he replied, pointing.

It took all her control to not run into the only safe feeling haven in the place. Leaning against the door, she let the tears that were brimming over out. The worst part for Valerie was the knowledge that Master wouldn't be here for at least 20 minutes. She figured that she would need that much time to obey the masturbate twice order. "Maybe being horny will help get through this," she thought. Pulling the front of her maid's skirt up, she caressed her pussy. Her natural lube was already there, left from the arousal she had felt earlier in Castle and the first part of the walk. Her body wasn't responding to her touch. She found nothing about the situation arousing. Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine herself in Master's arms, being caressed by him. She tried rubbing her clit directly. Nothing worked. She wasn't having fun and couldn't get aroused. "I hope Master will understand."

She flushed one of the toilets and washed her hands to cover and went back out to the bar. Her chili and bottle were sitting on the bar, the beer unopened. One of the men had moved to a seat next to hers. She sat down and started on her chili. The bartender walked over and popped her Heineken open, leaving again. The chili was actually good and she'd never been disappointed with Heineken.

As she had feared, the man spoke to her, "So missy, you up to a little fun?"

As she turned to respond, she realized just how brilliant Master's orders had been. She'd first thought that it would be humiliating to claim to be a lesbian. Instead, that claim was to be a shield to ward off unwanted advances. "I'm sorry," she said with the first smile since she had entered, "My girlfriend wouldn't approve."

The guy grabbed her arm and started to say, "What, you saying you're a…"

A huge hand came up, seemingly out of nowhere, wrapped itself completely around the jerk's wrist and squeezed, hard. A voice with a Jim Neighbors high-pitched squeak said, "I think the lady said no. Which part do you need explained, the N or the O?"

The guy let go, cringing, eyes watering, pleading, "Owwwww. Okay, Lee, okay. God damn, let go."

"What's the problem?" The bartender had walked over, wanting to prevent trouble.

Lee, the owner of the giant hand, laughed, "No problem. Just helping Bill with an English translation issue. Had trouble with no."

"Let him go, Lee. Bill, perhaps you should head home now."

"Sure. Right. Good idea."

Like a parting of the red sea, the area around Valerie was once again empty, as all three men moved off to what they were doing. While she was still mortified to be here, dressed like she was, the aura of danger that had loomed over her was gone. She had not even recognized the fear mixed in with the extreme humiliation, but with it gone, she was able to stifle the urge to run in panic. When she had finished her chili, she signaled the barkeep and asked for a refill (it was really good chili). She was nursing the beer since she was technically in a scene. Helen's admonition against playing and drugs, she assumed, included alcohol.

She took the opportunity to go to the bathroom and try to arouse herself again. This time she was more successful, with the buried fear of true rape settled. As she fingered her pussy lips, she produced lubricant again, the aroma of her sex filling her nose. Now when she imagined Master bending her over a table and taking her from behind, it had the desired effect. Her nipples hardened and her breath came in shorter gasps. Her cunt demanded filling, a need she left unfulfilled. After a few minutes, she stopped, feeling very wet and desperate. She washed her hands and flushed one of the toilets again.

Back out in the bar, she was still stared at, but not approached. She had the impression that if she left now, she would be followed by someone wanting to employ her services. Now she had to wait for Master. She was so not going to have to fend off every guy in six blocks that thought she was a pro.

She was just finishing the second bowl of chili when he entered, a crop in his hand. To Valerie's surprise, he was not alone. A woman dressed much as she was accompanied him. They looked around briefly, and walked over to where she was sitting.

Charles asked, "How are you doing, Valerie?"

"Not so good, Master. I really want to go now."

"Not yet. What's bothering you?"

"I…they all think I'm a hooker. It's so humiliating."

The lady looked at Val with disgust, "And what's wrong with being a hooker?"

Valerie looked at her, looked at Master. "I…I… "

"Valerie, answer the woman. What's wrong with being a hooker?"

Shame overwhelmed her as she realized that she'd been judging the prostitutes for being who they were. "Noth…nothing…ma'am."

"If there is nothing wrong with it, why is it humiliating?"

"I…No…I guess it isn't."

Charles sighed, "No, that's not good enough. You did find it humiliating. Explain why. We're not leaving until you explain. The longer it takes, the more severe your punishment. You're close to disappointing me."

"Master, please, I…" the look on his face stopped her. He had no intention of letting her escape this trial. "I guess I don't want to be thought of as a…a…a whore. I'm sorry."

The hooker would not let go. "What's wrong with being thought of as a whore?"

"It's just that…I mean… "

"Valerie. Think of this as initiation part two. Reach down inside and be brutally honest with yourself. Don't think about your answer, just say it." He took her head and looked into her eyes. "What's wrong with being a whore?"

"It's evil and degrading and…" It hit her like a ton of bricks, the reality of what she was saying and thinking. Her composure gone, she started crying, sobs punctuating her confession, "Master, I'm so sorry. I was judging her the same way vanillas judge us. Please forgive me."

"It's not my forgiveness you need, is it?"

"No, Master. You're right." She turned to the prostitute, "Please forgive me for thinking so badly of you. I…I…I acted like you weren't a person. I was so wrong."

She took Valerie's chin in her hand and looked at her. "No, I can't forgive you. It's not my place. The person that has to forgive you is you. Can you forgive your own prejudices? This won't be the last one you'll find. Until you can recognize, change, and forgive, you'll never be free of them. You've made the first step; you've recognized your prejudice. The next two steps are the harder ones. Can you change? Will you forgive yourself?"

"I…I don't know, but I'll try."

"That's all anyone can ask."

Charles turned her head back towards him. "Valerie, it's time for your punishment. Part of your punishment is simply that you will be punished by this whore instead of me."

"Yes, Master."

He handed the crop to the hooker. "Val, go to the lady's room with her. Accept what punishment she gives you. She knows your safe word."

"Yes, Master."

Valerie and the hooker walked to the bathroom together. The streetwalker shoved a door wedge under the door, effectively locking everyone out. "Before I start, I need to have you tell me that you consent to having your ass whipped with a crop until you are bawling your head off."

Valerie gulped. "Yes, I consent. May I ask a question?"

"Shoot."

"Why are you doing it?"

"Why am I whipping you or why am I a whore?"

"Both I guess."

"The first is easy. He's paying me $250. That's what hookers do. The second is more difficult to answer. I started hooking because there was no other way for a 16-year-old to support her invalid mom. Since she died, I've kept at it because it's easier than finding something else to do. Women generally don't turn tricks because they want to, they do it because they have to, or at least they believe they have to. That's why your attitude out there was so disgusting. You were judging a bunch of women as being less than people because they had no choice. Society is less wrong to look at you as being sick. After all, you do what you do because you do have a choice."

"I'm sorry. I was wrong."

"I know. It's a start. Not everyone is willing to admit their wrong. For you, there's hope. For most of my customers, there is none. They believe just as you do, or worse, and they have no idea how disgusting they are. Let's get this over with. Take your skirt off and hold on to the wall of the stall."

Valerie dropped the miniscule skirt onto the floor and reached up to grab the top of the wall. There was no play involved as the lady simply brought the crop down on her ass over and over again, using her full strength. Tears flowed almost immediately, as much from the shame of her prejudices as from the pain. Determined to atone a little by prolonging her pain, she stifled her sobs for as long as she could. She held out for 15 minutes. Then, the pain having become too much, she wailed out loud, no longer caring what anyone outside would think of her. Her own opinion of herself already lower than anyone else could have, she believed. Several seconds later, the hooker stopped, dropped the crop onto Valerie's skirt and said, "Go back to him when you stop crying." Then, kicking the door stop out of the way, she walked out. Valerie would never see her again.

It took a few minutes for Val to dry the tears. She put the skirt back on, picked up the crop and rejoined Charles at the bar.

"Thank you, Master, for having me punished. Is there anything else Master wishes of me?"

"Follow me to the car."

They left Murphy's and got into the car. Charles drove in silence for ten minutes, letting Valerie wrestle with her thoughts. He knew that she believed that she had failed in a test and was processing the shame of that failure. He wanted her to come to a conclusion about herself before he made his own thoughts known.

Valerie was in turmoil. She believed that the hooker was correct. Society had more justification for condemning her for choosing to live in a sexual lifestyle that many, if not most, people considered sick and perverted, than it did to look down in a similar way on prostitutes, most of whom have no choice they can see to avoid their fate. How could she, someone who chooses to defy society's norms so brazenly, treat those who have been thrown out of society's norms so callously? Yet, she didn't feel that she was sick for what she did. Who was society to judge her? Who was she to judge anyone? She thought back to the lists she had filled out for the auction and her contract. There were things on those lists that she'd been repulsed by. More, she'd thought that anyone who could do 'that' must be sick. Yet, others thought she was sick. What was sick, anyway? Who was she to condemn someone because they were aroused by being peed on? The more she thought, the more she realized that she was full of prejudices, many lurking beneath the surface, hiding themselves from her scrutiny. Even her revulsion of lesbianism was a form of prejudice.

"Master?"

"Yes, Valerie?"

"I feel so evil. How can you still want me?"

"First, tell me what makes you evil."

"I've treated so many people like they were worth less than I was in my thoughts, just because they were different than me."

"Valerie, your thoughts don't make you evil, your actions do. That's why hate crimes laws are so wrong. You don't punish a man for what he thinks; you punish him for what he does."

"But, Master, even people in the lifestyle. Ones who enjoy things I think of as horrible. Even my disgust for lesbian sex."

"Val, there's a world of difference between finding an act disgusting and thinking less of a person who does that act. Have you ever thought of Surmi, Sally, or Marcia as lesser beings?"

"No, Master."

"Exactly. You were repulsed by having sex with them, but you always treated them with respect. Giggy told me of your concern at hurting their feelings at that dinner you had with them. I personally have serious issues with several parts of BDSM, like bloodletting, scat, and water sports. That's not the problem. It's a problem when you equate the person and the activity. I have learned, over time, that the people who play those games aren't any more or less perverted than I am. Tell me, are you thinking that you failed a test?"

"Yes, Master."

"Impossible. This wasn't a test. If it was, then no one passes it, ever. The point of the walk to Murphy's and the confrontation with the prostitute was to open your eyes. We are shaped by the society we grow up in. Val, you have been outside the vanilla world for less than a month. Is it any surprise that you're still in the grip of their attitudes? Once you are aware of your capacity to prejudge people, you can actively take steps to purge the prejudice from your mind. Where you see failure, I see someone who has gotten the point of the lesson. We're done for the day."