Scrumptious Harlot
Chapter 2
Cold showers usually suck. Your head aches when you duck under the stream. You want to dance out from under the chilly blast. Even on hot days like this, I normally added a trickle of hot just to relieve the shock to my system. But today I was singing and smiling under the polar blast while I soaped away the grime. Refreshing. Distracting. Shrinkage-inducing. Yes. No arousal at all. I was aroused-free. I was healthy in mind and body. Look at me!
—ordering Bethany into the tub with me clad in only her towel, the stream making it cling to that petite but curvy body—
No. Ice-caps. Glaciers.
—her hands soaping my body as her glazed eyes stared ahead, a happy sigh upon her lips, massaging my back, pressing against me as she reached around to wash my chest—
Oh god, don’t think of pink elephants, don’t think of pink nipples.
—kneeling as the commands leashed her mind, eyes looking up me in a worshipful trance, soapy hands caressing my ass, then down my legs, delicate fingers working between them, forming a fist, pumping, lips kissing the tip, faster, soft, yes—
I had to twist the showerhead to wash the mess off the tiles on the wall. The force of it had seemed enough to blast chips out of the grout between them. My teeth chattered while I suffered through finishing the shower. Clamping my jaw, I filled the sink with cold water as I whisked a shaving brush in a scuttle. I had stropped my cut-throat the night before. My grandfather had bequeathed me his straight-razor along with the house. I had picked up the technqiue after spending too much on disposables. Even strokes, as few as possible. There.
Usually I let the stubble grow on weekends. For some reason, I felt the need to be a little less like a crazy guy lurking under the bridge. The face that emerged from under the lather wasn’t too bad. There was a touch of the basset hound here. though. The full-length mirror on the back of the shower door revealed a front porch from a beer-in-the-evening habit relieved by a set of shoulders developed from my warehouse job. Not a body that the young women swooned over, unless orders warped their minds into submissive mush. I glared down at my treacherous Littler Herman. Down, boy.
Not happening.
Sweat was already soaking my T-shirt and bermuda shorts when I left the bathroom. Cautiously, I peered into the living room to see what was happening with my guest. I had no idea what could happen in her mind while I was gone. Would her thrall personality emerge by accident? What I found was a very fetchingly-clad redhead working with broom and dustpan. Every so often she had to tuck in her towel when it worked loose. She plunged a squeegee mop into a soapy bucket, slapping it on the floor.
“Coffee a lot stronger than you’re used to?” I asked, noticing her jittery movements.
“Oh, hey, Mr. Nussbaum,” Bethany said. “Wow, that stuff really gives you a boost. I decided to get a head start on the chores. Your floors really need a wash.”
“Broken window is a a good trade for maid service,”
“I do this all the time at Miriam’s.” Bethany slopped water in her next pass. “All the time.”
“Does she make you sleep in a closet under the stairs?” I asked.
“Yeah, I call her Petunia under my breath.” Bethany grinned. “I had to read them in the library. Miriam would never have let them into the house.”
“I can head over to see her before I go to the mall,” I said. “We can talk things out so you don’t show up cold.”
“No. Don’t. Please.” Bethany shuddered. “It’s okay. I called the pastor at our church to ask him to let her know I was alright.”
“Okay.” I studied her slowly slipping flannel modesty-guard. “Wouldn’t that be easier in a bathrobe?”
“Yes, but I have to wear a towel to look sexy,” Bethany said. “I mean, it’s obvious.”
“Obvious.” I swallowed. “Did, uh, anything I say prompt you to do that?”
“No, I had to wear a towel to look sexy,” Bethany said. “Besides, you already got the full show when a big fat dumb junkie slut crawled into your house.”
“Fat you’re not, dumb you definitely aren’t,” I said. “You don’t have the track marks for a junkie. And you aren’t a slut.”
“You’re too nice, Mr. Nussbaum.” Bethany bowed her head, hair hiding her face. “I know what I am.”
Dammit. What had that witch of a foster mother done to this girl? Whatever I said got twisted into a sense of self-worth that had been crumpled up like a wad of used kleenex. All I could do was watch her wash the floors like a Cinderella who could never go to the ball. In fact, she had snuck out to the ball and ended up humiliated worse than ever. What could I do to get through to her? Well, I could. Two words would be all that would take. No, that was the reason I hadn’t asked her to become my sexy bath attendant. Teenage me would have had her getting down and sexy like a living Real Doll. Forty-plus me understood that I was dealing with a minefield.
“Scrumptious harlot will come with me to the bathroom.”
Dammit. I couldn’t let things alone.
The mop clattered on the floor as she marched with slightly glazed eyes into the back of the house.
“Scrumptious harlot will look into the mirror,” I said, positioning her before the big mirror on the inside of the bathroom door. “Scrumptious harlot will see only the girl in the mirror. Scrumptious harlot will tell me what she sees.”
“Whore.” Bethany’s voice quavered. “Going to end up like my mom, Miriam says, dead with a needle of her arm in a truck stop bathroom. Slut. Slut won’t tell anyone, they said, lying there like garbage—”
Bethany’s cry was muffled when I clamped a hand over her lips I didn’t want to hear the filth that had been heaped on her. Bethany struggled weakly when I stripped the towel off her. Her green eyed stared widely at her reflection, seeing only that, as she felt an invisible hand cup a breast. Fear warred with need as I reverently stroked the breast. It was just a little too large for her frame, with a firmness that stopped any sag from marring its loveliness. Bethany made a keening noise when I rolled the nub crowning it between thumb and finger. Her stomach fluttered beneath my fingertips while it descended down.
She gained a few inches when she shot up on tiptoe at the touch of my fingertips on her smooth sex. I didn’t thrust in. I didn’t release what was pressing into her ass through my shorts. God, I wanted her. But she had been violated. So my fingers touched and caressed as a thumb teased through the folds at the top of her slit. I kissed her shoulders, tasting the salt of her sweat, Bethany could only stare in helpless need at her reflection. She bucked when I kissed an earlobe, breath hot against it.
“Scrumptious harlot will not listen to the lies,” I said. “Scrumptious harlot will only listen to me as she looks at the girl in the mirror. Only I tell the truth.”
“Y-yes,” Bethany said. “Won’t believe the lies. You tell the truth.”
“You are not a whore,” I said., tweaking the nipple.
“I am naaaaaaat a wh-whore,” Bethany whispered.
“Scumptious harlot will not let the lies distract her,” I said. “Say the truth.”
“I am not a whore,” Bethany said, a little louder.
“You are not a slut.”
“I—” Bethany swallowed. “A slut feels like this, a slut is so dripping wet, a slut—”
“Scrumptious harlot will not say lies,” I countered. “Only my words are truth.”
“I am not a slut?” Bethany asked, tears dripping down her cheeks.
“You are a sexy, beautiful girl,” I said.
“I am a sexy, beautiful girl,” Bethany breathed.
“You are a sexy, beautiful girl who is proud of her body.” My hands roamed over her, stroking and caressing. “Sexy, beautiful girls enjoy the pleasure I bring them.”
“Oh yes.” Bethany arched her sex against my fingers.
“You are a sexy, beautiful girl who deserves,” I said, holding her tighter, ‘to feel aroused and cherished in my arms.”
“Yes.” Green eyes with pupils blown open gazed at herself. “Sexy, Beautiful. Aroused. Cherished.”
“My sexy, beautiful girl will always feel cherished and aroused by my touch and attention.” It just came out. I swear. “Scrumptious harlot will cum, burning away the false Bethany of the lies. All that will be will be the sexy beautiful girl she sees before her.”
Bethany jerked once. Twice. Her eyes rolled up in their sockets. Her mouth opened in a silent scream.
“Scrumptious harlot will sleep when I end a count of three,” I said. “Scrumptious harlot will think everything from the summoning to the mirror to now is a dream. Scrumptious harlot will not lose the truths revealed to her. Scrumptious harlot will awake when I clap my hands three times and call her name.”
“Not a slut not a whore sexy beautiful cherished—”
“One, two....three.”
“Bethany.”
Clap. Clap. Clap.
I quickly returned my hands to the steering wheel after giving the trigger. Yawning, Bethany arched in a very appealing manner as she woke up. Must have suffered a post-caffeine rush crash during her enforced nap. She stared around in confusion at finding herself in a car seat instead of my place. She frowned at the outfit I had dressed her in for our outing. The faded pair of gym shorts were almost long enough to be capri pants on her. The matching grey sweatshirt was a male version of the bulky style she usually wore to hide her figure.
Then her gaze settled on the vanity mirror in the sunvisor. Bethany stared at the reflection as if seeing herself for the very first time. Fingertips touched cheek and mouth and brow to confirm it really was her she was seeing. Her lips silently mouthed he truths I had burned into her mind. God. I thought I’d bent her brain with my hafl-assed brainwashing attempt. Bethany’s muscles twitched beneath my hand once before she melted into my caress. I slowly massaged the back of her neck. She flopped back bonelessly into my touch.
“What happened?” Bethany sighed. “When did I end up here?’
“You’re still out of it from last night,” I said. “You must not remember we headed out to pick up the things you need to move in.”
“Move in.” Bethany reached up to stroke my forearm. “I should be freaking out about moving in with an older guy I really just met. But, wow, I fail to care. You have such amazing fingers. Like a magic motel bed.”
“See, I’ve seduced you with a backrub,” I said. “You can’t stay at Miriam’s. It is time you moved out. You have anything you need there?”
“Couple of souvenirs.” Bethany tilted back the passenger chair. “No jewelry, that’s a sin. No books worth reading, those are devil’s work. A duffel bag with clothes from Goodwill, stuck next to the sofa bed in the basement.”
“Oh, meeting your cousin is going to be such fun,” I said.
“Please, I’m going to sneak in when she’s gone and jailbreak my stuff,” Bethany snarled. “I am never listening to her again. I’m not a whore!’ I’m not a slut!”
“What are you, Bethany?” I asked.
“A sexy, beautiful girl.” Bethany turned to me, hope suffusing her features. “It’s not slutty to want to be your sexy, beautiful girl, Mr. Nussbaum?”
“Of course not, Bethany,” I said. “You’re my sexy, beautiful girl...forever and ever.”