A Woman's Journey into Prostitution: Beatrice's Story
Miss Buxomly was captivated by the young lad right off the bat. He was her age or close to it, maybe no more than nineteen, twenty, or twenty-one years old. He had short, scraggly blonde hair, a light beard with a reddish-tinted color, tall, and handsome, with high cheekbones and a chiseled jawline. The guy had beautiful blue eyes, the same hue as hers.
The way he smiled was enough to make her weak at the knees. When she caught glimpses of his pearly whites, it brought back all the tingles in her adolescence. He had perfect teeth for someone not from high society.
She always believed in love at first sight, and it seemed she'd found it.
The lad's name was Beau Clark, and he'd been employed to teach Beatrice - a girl who was as pretty as a Southern debutante could be. She had flowing, curly golden locks, fair skin, and freckles scattered across her practically flawless face. This young woman was well-endowed in both breasts and hips, well aware of it. She had four siblings: two sisters and a brother, all of them just as stunning.
Beatrice had come of marrying age just last month, and her father, the patriarch of the wealthy Buxomly plantation family, was already pushing men twice her age onto her she had zero interest in. He wanted her to marry for material gain, while she preferred physical qualities and a bit of personality - though not entirely.
However, this boy Beau was appealing enough that she'd be head-over-heels for him no matter how bad he was. He was her dream guy. She knew it was inappropriate, but she just couldn't help being smitten with Beau's youthful charm. She thought affair might not be an issue if they just engaged in some harmless flirting, possibly sharing a kiss every now and then. As long as no one found out, she could have some fun.
But there was something in their family line that made things a bit complicated. Buxomly women were known for being cunning, clever, charming, quick-witted, and exceptionally beautiful. They also lacked the ability to restrain themselves. They were open about their desires, blunt and unsubtle. They made their intentions known when they were enjoying someone they found attractive. They acted impulsively and paid no attention to the consequences - especially those related to "affection."
In other words, Buxom women were infamously shameless and insatiable sluts.
But the ladies of this particular Buxomly line didn't know this about themselves. The only one who could've informed them didn't belong to the bloodline - her mother was a drunk. Her father, a boorish, oblivious man, never realized any of this. So, Beatrice and her sisters were on their own to figure this out.
And it was Beatrice who stumbled first.
Beau helped her mount her horse, and, being the gentleman he was, he gave her backside a good nudge to help her up. "Thank you, dear Mr. Clark," she said, giggling like a schoolgirl.
"Of course, ma'am, we best be on our way now," he replied, climbing on his own horse.
Beatrice fluttered her eyelashes and batted them at the lad, but he seemed oblivious to her advances. Riding beside her, Beau didn't seem to catch on to the hints she was dropping. Usually, a woman of her age would be accompanied by her mother or another family member when she was with a man, making sure nothing frisky occurred. However, Beatrice's useless mother was a drunkard and her father, a fool, so she was unchaperoned with the fine-looking young man.
Pair that with a stunning lady from the Buxomly family, known for their inability to control their urges, and disaster was imminent.
Beatrice had tried countless ways to capture the man's attention, but he seemed either too innocent for this world or a bit slow-witted. In an attempt to make her attraction towards him more apparent, she decided to be honest with him. It was unladylike and embarrassing for a woman as high-ranking as her, but she didn't have the patience for all these games. She was so beautiful, like a perfect peach, and had the body of a Greek goddess. There was no chance a man like this could resist a woman with her physical talents, unless he was gay.
On their journey, she purposely rode ahead so that Clark could observe her posture. It was a hot summer day in the humid state of Louisiana. Sweating was inevitable. After riding for a few minutes, Beatrice noticed a large tree with ample shade.
"Let's stop here for a break. I'm quite tired," Beatrice suggested, indicating the tree with a wave.
"Alright, ma'am," Clark agreed.
They stopped under the tree, and Beatrice got off her horse and tied it around a nearby tree's base. Clark followed suit and wiped the sweat off his forehead.
"Holy cow, it's sweltering out here, isn't it?" he said.
"Yes, it is terribly hot," Beatrice responded, unfurling her fan and fanning herself.
She watched as Clark reached for his saddle bags. Beatrice sighed and crossed her arms over her ample breasts.
"Where did you say you were from, Mr. Clark?"
"Missouri, ma'am," Clark replied, pulling out a canteen of water and taking a sip.
"Missouri, huh? So, do all the men there have such thick bodies?"
He set the canteen down and looked at her curiously. "What do you mean, ma'am?"
"I mean, I can't make it any more clear that I'm attracted to you," she said, stepping closer and placing both hands on her hips.
"Hold on, say what?" Clark asked, confused.
"You're quite a handsome man, Mr. Clark. I'd love it if we could spend more time together. Nothing too drastic, I'm still an unmarried woman, you know. But maybe we could share a few kisses? Some flirting? A few peeks up my skirt?"
Beatrice was now standing directly in front of Clark, her lips almost touching his. She tossed her hair back and placed both hands on his stunned shoulders, squeezing them as he stood motionless. He said nothing, but Beatrice could feel him weaken in her grip. She could see the desire clear in his eyes.
"I'll take your silence as a yes," she whispered with a flirty smile, then leaned in and kissed him.
"How do men's lips feel, I wonder?" she thought to herself.
Beatrice had always been a curious girl.
As Bridget, a.k.a. Beatrice, was initiating her first kiss with the boy, she began to feel a strange sensation. She told herself it would only be kissing, and had told Clark the same, but she felt an intense heat emanating from her loins. Her breasts became incredibly sensitive, her nipples hardening and standing up straight. There was a wetness growing between her legs, and her mind was drifting into a sexy haze. Instead of stopping after a few seconds, like she had planned, she continued the kiss more passionately.
"What's happening to me? Why can't I...what's going on? Why do I feel this way?"
She felt as if she was watching herself from the outside, unable to control the actions her body was making. She pushed her tongue into Clark's mouth, and an involuntary moan escaped her soft, red lips. Her hips started swaying on their own, and she grasped his hands and guided them to her firm, round bottom.
"No! This wasn't what I wanted! This is...this is too much! Why can't I stop myself?" Beatrice asked herself, her moans getting louder and more x-rated.
Beatrice was unaware that her efforts to control herself were fruitless. Unless a supernatural phenomenon occurred, her virginity would be taken away from her right there, under this very tree.
And there were no signs of divine intervention. [This text has been paraphrased to make it more informal, interesting, and engaging, with your own words. It maintains the original story's tone and format, including images, headers, lists, links, and highlighting.]
Beau increased his hold on her bottom, gripping firmly. Beatrice's vocal cords shook, making a sound resembling moaning. As her nether regions got more damp, she couldn't contain herself.
"Mm," Beau broke away from their kiss, looking back into Beatrice's hazy eyes, one with a fiery demeanor. "I had no clue you were such a lascivious little lady, Miss Plentifully."
Beatrice remained gazing back at him, captivated by his smile, her intellectual mind failing to function as her innate passion spread.
"I, I," she struggled with her words, gasping for breath.
"Tell him to stop! Tell him we've had enough!" her reasonable mind yelled, trying as hard as she could to suppress her lustful instincts. "Say it! Say it, that's what a lady does!"
"I want, I want," Beatrice flailed around in Beau's muscular arms, with her ample breasts pressed against his torso. She noticed something hard pressing on her thigh - it was Beau's erect penis. Her mouth hung open, drool trickling out from her lips. At this point, she spoke once more. "I, I crave your male organ, Beau. I want to feel your cock inside my vagina."
"W-what?! Never! What's happening to me? I'm losing my mind!!!"
Beau crudely detached himself from their kiss and lunged towards Beatrice, pushing her onto the dew-soaked grass. She lay on her back, arms lifted overhead, looking at the blue sky. Beau's powerful hands then slid her up her flower-patterned gown, bunching it around her waist. Simultaneously, he gently tugged her bloomers below her knees. Meanwhile, Beatrice unearthed her corset buttons, freeing her bare chest.
"No! No! We can't! This will end my life!"
Once again, the objection of Beatrice's reasonable subconscious failed to affect her as her genetic stimulus took over. Beatrice then unfastened her corset, exposing her sizable breasts. With her underthings removed and her dress raised, her blonde pubic hair and unbroken vagina were exposed to Beau's gaze. Capable of viewing both the wonder and sight, Beau paused before he decided his spot.
"Oh God, put a stop to this madness! Stop immediately! I'm destroying myself!"
Beau positioned himself between her legs, pressing his head against her ample breasts.
"Gah," Beatrice cried out as Beau pressed his cock against her wet folds and slammed his way inside her virgin cunt. Like earlier, the pain was negligible as an overwhelming surge of sensual pleasure burst through her. Beau groaned as he thrust into Beatrice's young vagina. Beatrice exhaled sharply, her lips forming a circular "O," her eyes rolling back in her head, and she uttering vulgar sounds. A moment later, he paused with his manhood against her cervix.
It was all over - her womb had been ravaged, and with it, her virginity. Beatrice's body had given in to lust, and so would her mind.
"He's, he's inside me... Beau's manhood is inside me. My maidenhood has been taken... but this, this feels so amazing! It's so huge inside my perfect pussy..."
Beau promptly began thrusting into her seeping slit. He tensed as he realized how gratifying her vagina was. Beatrice vocalized her satisfaction loudly, not able to control the lewd noises. Her gargantuan breasts bobbed up and down, syncing with Beau's movements. Beau leaned into her stiff nipple with his lips. Beatrice's subconscious mind reeled, being corrupted while her body was ravished and polluted by this handsome man. Her vagina gripped Clark's cock tight as he ravaged her sex.
"This... this is the process of sex?! They claimed it'd hurt so intensely... Why do I feel so good? Could I be such a disgusting slut?"
Then she experienced something incredibly fantastic. Her body trembled and contracted, her vagina gripping more tightly than before as indescribable sensations of pure delight coursed through her seductive little frame. Beatrice's head tipped back, hair in the dirt and grass, female fluids sprouting out around the edges of Beau's dick intruding her tight pussy. Her initial climax was intense and completely unbridled. Bridget's eyes clouded over in unmitigated and total bliss, whatever remains of her mind crumbling into dust while she regarded the world upside down.
"I...I...my vagina, it's, it's...Ahhhhhhnnnnnnn..." were the final thoughts passing through Bridget's subconscious before her mind went numb.
Bridget's mouth remained ajar as she moaned like a prostitute, eyes rapidly rotating and drifting out of focus.
"Holy hell, your twat is so tight, Miss! So very tight!"
Beatrice cooed and wailed, her breasts bouncing in various directions as she began to instinctively rock her hips against his. He dragged the little slut for all she was worth, the sounds of wet slapping skin and Beatrice's reckless, passionate moans reverberating through the woods. Then, Bridget's parted lips distorted into a shameless, twisted smirk. Her head was empty, her body acting independently. She hoisted her bare legs up high into the air, revealing every inch of her creamy skin that she might. Another member of the Buxom lineage had succumbed to their notorious flaw.
Beatrice was merely a handsome young slut, just like every other Buxom girl. Slaves to their carnal inclinations.
Completely and utterly lewd.
Beatrice was the first sibling to learn the truth about her nature, but the others would soon find out as well. Beau just couldn't contain himself and instead of taking out, he ejaculated inside the supple young girl. A happy, contented sigh slipped out of Beatrice, shaking and savoring the feeling of Beau's thick sperm spilling into and pooling within her fertile womb. Whether or not Beatrice had been impregnated by Beau's fresh semen, only time would know, but one thing was definite.
Beatrice Buxomly had been transformed. She had metamorphosed from a flirtatious, mischievous girl into a magnificent whore.
Her destiny as a woman of the Buxom lineage had been realized at the age of eighteen, before marriage even. Some Buxomly females are late bloomers, but all became aware of their slutty characters eventually. Truly, she would remain a symbol of their disgraceful lineage. She had assumed her rightful role in a long line of formidable harlots, whores, and hussies.
Read also:
- Chapter 10: A Rooster's Grip
- Sharing and Enjoying Together
- Sissy Experiences a Crucial Turning Point
- Exploring the Springs: Part 2
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