Author Topic: [Original] Second Nature [NC-17]  (Read 485 times)

0 Members and 1 Guest are viewing this topic.

Offline Cyren

  • Emeritus Mod
  • Supreme VXer
  • *****
  • Posts: 3258
[Original] Second Nature [NC-17]
« on: Mon, Jun 23, 2008, 10:48 AM »
#2 winner of the VX Inspired Writing Contest 2008

Title:Second Nature
Images:Images One and Two
Disclaimer:All artwork is property of it's rightful owner. I make no money doing this and no copyright infringement was intended.
Fandom:Original
Pairing: OFC/ OMC
Rating: NC-17 for Language and Smutish type stuff.
Summery:The line between two natures blur
Archive:Only at VX

 
Forgive me Father for I have sinned. I make my imaginary confession in an abandoned church. Its a way station of sorts for me. I come here when I need to think and lately I've been doing that a lot. I've got a lot to think about, with the job, with how I'm dealing with the things I do. I've got to make peace with myself. There are counsellors I could talk to but I don't trust anyone enough, they'd all just try to convince me to come in...they can find someone else to take my place but I like what I do. I know, its wrong. And it's a fucking cliche if ever there was one. Good girl gone bad, its like a bad fucking movie. Believe me, if I were able to, I would choose something a little more original. Good girl stays good and fucks over the bad guys while she's at it. But this is real life and unfortunately I am a good girl who has gotten a taste for the bad, and found that I like it.

When you do something often enough, it becomes second nature, a habit. Something that you do without thinking. Though in my line of work it isn't always a good thing. Good and bad habits die hard and to be honest I'm not sure I want to get rid of the bad ones. Not when they feel so good. Shouldn't I allow myself a little indulgence? No one's getting hurt because no one knows and I plan on keeping it that way. Its harmless for the most part; I get results and that's all that matters to the higher-ups.

I know, I know. I should be...repentant, sorry for the things I doing, but I'm not. It's part of the job, and is it bad that I enjoy aspects of my work? I'm not stupid, it ain't all fun. Actually, most of it isn't fun but you roll with the punches, find the good in the bad or at least the pleasure in evil. How else is a girl supposed to get her kicks?  

The higher-ups picked me out from the new bunch, but all they saw was a pretty face that would fill the gap for them. Didn't know me, didn't think that I'd have a knack and a taste for the job. Sick and tired of being just another woman for them to ignore, I jumped at the chance. My first few ventures into the night got their attention though, how good and productive I was, how good I was at pretending. Hell, most of them would offer to bend me over and fuck me themselves if they could risk it. What was that saying? Don't shit where you eat? Well this was a case of don't fuck where you eat.

I'm supposed to keep them separate, me and the job. Don't take it personal, don't take shit home and most of all don't fuck up cuz mistakes get you killed. There are no second chances in this game. Say your prayers everyday little girl because it could be your last one. So I'm careful, always make sure I'm protected, in more than one way, of course. Disease is common and frankly its a problem I'd rather not deal with, so I gotta stick to the code of no glove, no love. Can't afford little slip-ups.

I keep what I do a secret from the family. They don't need to know and they wouldn't want to, either. Good girls don't do that; don't spread their legs for money even if it's for the right reasons. But I don't do it to earn my family's respect. Ta tell you the truth, I stopped trying to please them a long time ago. Nothing I do would ever please them, so...fuck 'em. Now I do what pleases me. If my family knew what I got up to they would disown me, which wouldn't be too much of a loss, really, but hell, I like going home on a Sunday afternoon. Makes me feel halfway normal, sitting down to dinner with them. Having them call me names, telling me I'm letting down the family name and honor. Funny, ain't it? Busted my ass year after year to impress them but all I get is shit in return. But that's my part in the family; my role to play. I like being the black sheep now. Used ta hate it, but with this new job, it fits.  

Wasn't long before I caught the attention of all the wrong people. Perfect. It was better than I could have hoped for. It pleases everyone. I'm moved up ranks, a favored one amongst the others. My boss warns me, this job ain't for everyone and if I ever got caught, I was on my own. There is only so much they would do to protect me, but where I was going, what I was about to do, was outside the lines.

So I got paraded around with the other girls, auctioned off the to the highest bidder. My first time out I scored big money. I was honest as I could be, told them I hadn't done this before and they lapped it up. Marketed me like a new toy to their customers. And the johns loved the thought of a newcomer, wanted to be the first one to rut between my legs. And of course they liked what they saw. The big brown eyes that can look innocent or sultry depending on what they order, the painted lips. And I don't dress tacky.  When you look at me you don't see the profession, you see what you ordered. Whether its the innocent first timer or the sultry siren, you get what you paid for, and then some.

Lucky for me the first time wasn't too bad; a real nice guy, in fact. Away from his wife and a little lonely. Don't know if I could have gone through with it if it was one of them other fuckers. Those dirty, filthy guys who woulda tried to break my body. I try to stay away from them but it ain't always possible. Like I said, you gotta roll with the punches and hopefully you get in a few of your own.

Anyways, my first time, like I said, it was a married guy, away from his family. Wanted a high class girl and he got me. Paid a lot, too, but he didn't want a pro. Wanted a clean girl and I was as clean as it got. No track marks, eyes clear and not dilated, so he knew I wasn't snorting. He did say I looked a little pale and I told him was nervous. He liked that. Treated me real nice, nicer than the shitheads I date. Was still sick as a dog after, though, didn't matter that it was part of the job. They don't teach you how to deal with how cheap you feel after the first time. He made me a cup of tea, like it would somehow make it all better.  

He requested me again but I refused. I'm after bigger game. It's not required but if I'm going to spend time on my back getting fucked, its gotta be worth my while. I'm supposed to just sit, part of the background, and go to the men when they call. But patience isn't a virtue I possess. But I can't blow it, I only got one chance and if I fuck up then its my neck on the line. And I happen to be fond of living.

The nights I go to work I have a routine. Moisturise and perfume my skin, paint my lips and pull on the clothes of a high class call girl. I check in with the boss, tells me to be careful. He's got no one to watch my back. It's fucked up that I can't carry a piece on those nights but its a little hard to hide something like that when I got to strip down completely, and some johns have a nasty habit of looking in my purse. No point in putting a gun so close to them, stupid fucks get ideas sometimes.  

The nights that I have off, I get dressed up but not in nice clothes. Skin tight top, low enough to show a lot of skin, thigh high boots and a long jacket. I still take the time to put on a little perfume, something cheap and nasty. It adds to the atmosphere when I'm face down in the back of of a car with some stranger pumping away between my legs. While I pull on these clothes I keep my gun within view; a reminder of who I am. Strange isn't it? I need one to remind me of who I really am on the nights where I betray everything I'm supposed to stand for.

[center:1pxh24vs][/center:1pxh24vs]

I leave the abandoned church and walk down the darkened streets. Whores go about their business, flaunting their wares, hoping for a big score tonight. Pimps and dealers hang out around the corner, harassing any stray walkers to purchase from them. When I first made my appearance on the street they were suspicious. But now, months later I'm just a painted whore making her way to an empty space on the block. I don't really have to do this, but I do. Like I said, it's for kicks.  

I stop under a lamp post and look out on the traffic as I wait. The lights of passing cars twinkle and even though this is a sleazy neighbourhood it manages to look almost serene. It's like the rain washed away the seediness for a little while. I shiver; the unexpected showers had cooled the streets considerably. Not good for business really; johns were slow to come out of the wood works when it was cold.

[center:1pxh24vs][/center:1pxh24vs]

The skin on my thighs is numb and I'm beginning to have second thoughts about coming tonight. Maybe I should call it quits before I get caught. Or worse. The problem I face now is that the whoring has become an addiction and right now I need a fix, bad. That doesn't fit well with the job, but before I have chance to reconsider a battered van pulls up beside me. Now general as a rule, I don't do guys in vans, creeps me out for some reason. Guess my over active imagination has me nervous about being kidnapped and thrown into the back. I'm on the verge of refusing when he lowers the window and leans out. Nice...built, dirty looking but not bad to look at. Looks like the perfect guy to scratch the itch that's been building inside me all week.

"How much?"

I lean in and rest my hand on the window.  The slow rush of adrenaline begins to flow through me. I can feel my body beginning to tingle already in anticipation of a good fuck. He looks like he knows what to do, but then you never know with these johns. Some of them sure as hell have the equipment but have no fuckin' clue how to use it. I smile and tell him it'll cost him two fifty and he snorts. I don't actually expect him to pay that much but I gotta at least pretend to negotiate; don't want him to get suspicious, after all. I look at him closely and know that he's done this before and I would be just another whore; I needed to be different somehow.

"One hundred. No fuckin' blow job's worth two fifty, honey. No matter how powerful that pretty mouth is."  

I try not to look too disappointed; he's only after a blow job? That's disappointing; it wasn't what I was in the mood for. There were times I wanted only that and I'd find a guy and pull him into an alley where I'd slither to my knees with my back against the wall and I'd let him use my mouth. But tonight I wanted a little more than that. Okay, a hell of a lot more than that. I look at him sweetly and bite my lip, look a little hesitant and nervous. I ask him for one seventy five and he can do whatever he wants. Make myself look like a real amateur. I see his Adam's apple bobbing. He can 'sense' the naivety in my offer and looks at me closely trying to assess exactly what I'm up to. I must have passed the test because he leans across and pushes the door open.

I try not to grin triumphantly as I slide in and shut the door. I put on the innocent nervous mask on and turn towards him and smile softly. Tell him my name's Jazz.

"What the fuck kinda name is that?"

I tug at my hair in an imitation of a nervous gesture and tell him it's short for Jasmine.

"You're new at this, ain't'cha?" he asks and pulls out into traffic.

I nod slowly and force myself to tense up as his hand comes to rest on the back of my neck, massaging a little too hard for the 'innocent' person I was playing, but for me, damn...I like a man who isn't afraid to get a little rough.

"Don't worry. I'll be real..." he pauses as though he's searching for the right word, "gentle."

Fuck. I hope not.

I look out the window. I have no idea where the fuck he's going but I don't care. Not really. My gun is close by so I know I'm okay for now. Pretty soon he pulls up behind the rail yards and turns the van off, before he turns to me and pulls me over to him gently. I'm almost fuckin' disappointed how gentle he is but then, when I feel the not-so-subtle downward pressure on my head, I know what he wants. I run my hand over his crotch, a little tentative in my moves. I want him to take the lead, let him think I'm a push over.

His cock is long and thick, better than I thought I'd get tonight and its a shame that he wants a blow job. There are so many other things I can think of doing with a hard one like that. But I'm a good employee; I wrap my hands around it before I open my mouth over the thick tip. I hear him sigh as he puts his hand on the back of my throat and pushes down a little, urging me to take more into my mouth. I hum with pleasure as his cock slips deep into my mouth and I hear him groan above me. His hand gets tighter in my hair and I smile, my mouth filled with the taste of precum.

He lets me continue for a little while before he yanks me up by my hair, the stinging pain bringing tears to my eyes, but it's pleasant kind of pain.

"You said anything, right? Turn around and get on your fuckin' knees."

His voice was harsh with impatience and I scramble upwards as soon as he lets go of my hair, quickly on my knees between the seats. Eager to obey.

Its not the act itself that is the addiction, it's the depravity. The smell of grease, crumpled bags of takeout food that crinkle as I shift my knees on them. Its so wrong but it feels so damn right. As the stranger slides a condom on his cock and positions himself I know that I'm playing a dangerous game. Picking up random strangers and fucking them isn't exactly normal behaviour and one day I could get into some real trouble. Pick up someone who has more than sex on the agenda. Cutters, rapists, murderers; they all target women who walk the street and while I'm not one of 'them', my little play acting could put me on a collision course with a casket. I'm not so cocky to think that my gun will be enough protection but when I weigh up the risks vs. the pleasures of what I do, I find that I can't stop. Even if it does get me killed someday.

As he grips my waist roughly and thrusts in aggressively, I whimper; not in pain but in pleasure. Tonight will be the last time for a while. Seems the higher-ups are a little concerned about the 'depth' of my activities and are pulling me in to debrief with a shrink. The guy's thrusts are rough and deep, just the way I want it. Walking on the thin line between heaven and hell somehow makes me feel more real, more alive, and not so numb.

In a few minutes I come quickly, the anticipation that had been building inside me all evening at the thought of doing this with a stranger had me buzzing and a few quick thrusts were all I needed to tip over the edge. But I don't offer the man any of the usual  over-the-top theatrics, let him think that the clenching sensations of my pussy around his cock is the sole result of his 'magnificent' performance. Triggered by my orgasm he comes quickly after and slumps forward on top of me. His breath hot and heavy in my ear.

""Did you come?"

He sounds surprised and oddly proud, and as much as it would please me enormously to burst his bubble, I hold back. I'm in a vulnerable position, after all. I nod slowly and whimper a little and he eases his massive bulk off my body, careful not to spill any of his sperm as he pulls out of me. After a little while we are both dressed and settled back into our seats, and if there wasn't a musky sweet smell of sperm in the air you'd think we had just been sitting here, not doing anything.

"Always get the money before you do..." he looks at me and trails off, a little embarrassed. He reaches for his wallet.

It was oddly endearing that he was advising me how to be a better whore. If I wasn't play acting, I'd laugh. He hands me a stack of bills and I shove them in my purse without counting them. I've got his tags and if he's screwed me over, its just a matter of tracking him down.

"And always check your money."

I nod silently and wait for him to drive, but he just sits there, watching me. Like he's trying to get into my head.

"You know, a girl like you doesn't have ta do this kind of work. How long you been doin' this?"

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Right, fuck me first then make conversation. Typical male. I take a deep breath and tell him what he wants to hear. That he's my first customer; that I've never done this before. To top it all off I burst into tears just in case he wasn't buying. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is my crowning moment of the night. I'm so fuckin' good at this I convince a john that this is my first night.

After a brief and awkward attempt to comfort me he scribbles his name and number down onto a crumpled napkin and tells me to give him a call tomorrow. That he works for someone who is always lookin' for a waitress or a barmaid. I accept it gratefully and rub away my tears. Realistically, it would have been a nicer gesture if he had done it before the fucking, but who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth?

He doesn't take me back to the strip where he picks me up; he drops me at the station instead. And despite myself I'm touched by the humanity in his gesture. When he drives off I repeat his tags to myself over and over again. Might track him down and see what his game was.

The next day I wake up early and shower, dress and hold on in to meet the boss. I must be better trained than I thought. They say 'Heel!' and I do. Fuckin' programmed me to do shit I don't even want to and before I know it I'm in the head-shrinker's office and he's ushering me in. Careful not to touch me because who the fuck knows what a whore like me could be carrying.

I slump into the chair across from him and wait. I like this part. I toy with him, I won't talk until he does.

"So, Jasmine. Last time we talked about how you felt torn between loyalty to yourself versus the need to work."

Fuck. Did we? Don't remember that shit. Doesn't sound like anything I would say. I nod and smile politely.

"How do you feel you've progressed this week?"

I tell him that things are better. It's bullshit, but I'd get my so called 'privileges' cut if I don't show like I'm making progress. After some more bullshit I get a semi-clean bill of mental health and leave. Thank Christ. Anymore of his bullshit and I swear I would have gladly put a gun to his head and pulled the trigger.

I head downstairs to the main hall and as usual I get the cat calls. It's normal, and the sooner every woman learns to deal with it the better; its all part and parcel of the job.

"Yo, Jazz."

I turn and watch as one of the chauvinist pigs comes over to me. He's probably the worst one of them all. Pretends to be my friend and wait for me to bend over so he can check my ass out. He hands me a file an inch thick; it's the guy from last night. I read his profile. Repeat offender, violent and connected. The perfect mark. Making a connection like that would impress the higher-ups. Remind myself to give him a call later and I smile to myself. Looks like I'll get to fuck him again and this time it's with the boss's blessing.

I'm tired of this double life. One during the day, another at night. Maybe it is time to call it quits on one of them. But which one. Give up the good girl or give up the bad? Even if I wanted to, could I give up the bad? I'm honest enough to admit that I am, in fact, an addict, though my preferred drug isn't booze or drugs, but the rush of doing something very wrong.

I leave and go back to the abandoned church. For some strange reason I feel drawn here. It pisses me off when I find junkies hiding here or condoms strewn every where. I clean up after them. Board the windows up even though I know they'll find a way back in. It's like I need to try and keep this place sacred. It's not working, obviously. During the day the gloomy and decrepit building takes on a sad air. The perfect example of society's failure to maintain a moral standing. I know, big thoughts for a silly woman like me, right? But maybe if society had maintained it's standards it wouldn't need people like me. But then, if society did keeps up standards, what would I be doing now?

I take a deep breath and sit in the confessional booth, make my imaginary confession again. Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. I'm a cop with the soul of a whore.


HarborA SpyChix Story
Hatari A SpyChix Story
Scar Tissue Taylor
Beauty From Ashes Sean

Offline Furyan Goddess

  • Supreme VXer
  • *****
  • Posts: 7604
  • "There will be no shots" ~ Johns
    • http://www.fanfiction.net/u/818825/
Re: [Original] Second Nature [NC-17]
« Reply #1 on: Fri, Jul 25, 2008, 01:48 PM »
I loved this one, the cop that turned into a whore.  It was dark and seedy... I really liked the struggle she had, the slight guilt, but at the end of the day, she knew she was just gonna keep on doing it because she loved it.  

I still see the jon as Taylor :)  Not sure why.. just do, maybe it's the van thing?  

Anyway, great job Cyren

Thanks to Sil for siggie!

Offline evilgrin

  • Supreme VXer
  • *****
  • Posts: 25273
  • Drinking whiskey in the Princess Bar
    • Facebook
    • Twitter
    • Hello Beautiful
Re: [Original] Second Nature [NC-17]
« Reply #2 on: Fri, Jul 25, 2008, 04:22 PM »
:hugs Beautifully written, C!
Elaine:)

my stories  |  Facebook  |  Twitter  |  Homepage
It was a rainy night in the big city. A hard rain. Hard enough to wash the scum off the streets. And I'm stuck in it without an umbrella. What a tool.

Offline Furyan Goddess

  • Supreme VXer
  • *****
  • Posts: 7604
  • "There will be no shots" ~ Johns
    • http://www.fanfiction.net/u/818825/
Re: [Original] Second Nature [NC-17]
« Reply #3 on: Fri, Jul 25, 2008, 04:31 PM »
I had a pretty good idea it was Cy too.. It was fantastic.. LOVE IT!!!

Thanks to Sil for siggie!

Offline DragonFire

  • Emeritus Mod
  • Supreme VXer
  • *****
  • Posts: 11499
    • Facebook
Re: [Original] Second Nature [NC-17]
« Reply #4 on: Fri, Jul 25, 2008, 05:21 PM »
Excellent, wonderful story, Cyren!  Congrats!  :hugs

Offline Helen Page

  • Supporter
  • Supreme VXer
  • ******
  • Posts: 4251
Re: [Original] Second Nature [NC-17]
« Reply #5 on: Fri, Jul 25, 2008, 08:03 PM »
Loved this!  Well done and congratulations.


Offline Cyren

  • Emeritus Mod
  • Supreme VXer
  • *****
  • Posts: 3258
Re: [Original] Second Nature [NC-17]
« Reply #6 on: Sat, Jul 26, 2008, 03:36 AM »
*scratches head* jeez was it that obvious? I kept wondering what dark part of me conjured up this...woman? Whether she's part of my psyche somehow.

Thankyou for the feedies ladies.

Once i saw the pictures I tried to think of somethign to write that was fanfic related but this idea grabbed me by the throat and refused to let go until I wrote her.


HarborA SpyChix Story
Hatari A SpyChix Story
Scar Tissue Taylor
Beauty From Ashes Sean

Offline Cyren

  • Emeritus Mod
  • Supreme VXer
  • *****
  • Posts: 3258
Re: [Original] Second Nature [NC-17]
« Reply #7 on: Sat, Jul 26, 2008, 08:38 AM »
Almost forgot.

Thankyou to all the lovely people who voted for this story. It means more than you could possibly know.  :hugs


HarborA SpyChix Story
Hatari A SpyChix Story
Scar Tissue Taylor
Beauty From Ashes Sean

Offline silver

  • Supreme VXer
  • *****
  • Posts: 1682
Re: [Original] Second Nature [NC-17]
« Reply #8 on: Sat, Jul 26, 2008, 10:18 AM »
Conratulations, C!

I had no clue who wrote what, but it was fun (& maddening) trying to guess!
Love this, don't know why...it's so sarcastic & evil/ironic:
Quote
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Right, fuck me first then make conversation. Typical male. I take a deep breath and tell him what he wants to hear. That he's my first customer; that I've never done this before. To top it all off I burst into tears just in case he wasn't buying. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is my crowning moment of the night. I'm so fuckin' good at this I convince a john that this is my first night.

Great story idea.  You made it completely believable.( yeah that's a little worrying!)
 :hit2


...insatiable...

Offline Bitten

  • Space Babe
  • Administrator
  • Supreme VXer
  • *****
  • Posts: 13865
  • Huh?
Re: [Original] Second Nature [NC-17]
« Reply #9 on: Sun, Aug 03, 2008, 03:30 PM »
I would never have guessed this was your story, Cyren. It's darker and more cynical than I would have expected from you but I mean that in a good way!


Quote
Forgive me Father for I have sinned. I make my imaginary confession in an abandoned church.

Good girl gone bad, its like a bad fucking movie. Believe me, if I were able to, I would choose something a little more original.

I am a good girl who has gotten a taste for the bad, and found that I like it.


Jeez! Talk about setting the mood. I'm already hooked!



Quote
I should be...repentant, sorry for the things I doing, but I'm not.


I like the feeling of inevitability here. The touches of Catholicism really accentuate the "evil" feel of her actions.


Quote
I like being the black sheep now.


That tells a lot about her.


Quote
And I don't dress tacky.


*snorks!*


Quote
though my preferred drug isn't booze or drugs, but the rush of doing something very wrong.

She has an interesting addiction. Too bad she's smart enough to fool the counselor, because she could really use his help.

You've created a really complex and interesting character. The story is dark and cynical, yet full of beautifully-written phrases. Great job!

Offline Cyren

  • Emeritus Mod
  • Supreme VXer
  • *****
  • Posts: 3258
Re: [Original] Second Nature [NC-17]
« Reply #10 on: Wed, Aug 06, 2008, 12:52 AM »
Quote from: "Bitten"
I would never have guessed this was your story, Cyren. It's darker and more cynical than I would have expected from you but I mean that in a good way!


 :evil

Thanks B!


HarborA SpyChix Story
Hatari A SpyChix Story
Scar Tissue Taylor
Beauty From Ashes Sean

Offline evilgrin

  • Supreme VXer
  • *****
  • Posts: 25273
  • Drinking whiskey in the Princess Bar
    • Facebook
    • Twitter
    • Hello Beautiful
Re: [Original] Second Nature [NC-17]
« Reply #11 on: Wed, Aug 06, 2008, 10:02 AM »
Quote
after much navel gazing I decided that Jazz is probably the 'evil / bad' me (...man...she even has a name now!).

I think most of us have one of those...scary isn't it?
Elaine:)

my stories  |  Facebook  |  Twitter  |  Homepage
It was a rainy night in the big city. A hard rain. Hard enough to wash the scum off the streets. And I'm stuck in it without an umbrella. What a tool.

Offline Bitten

  • Space Babe
  • Administrator
  • Supreme VXer
  • *****
  • Posts: 13865
  • Huh?
Re: [Original] Second Nature [NC-17]
« Reply #12 on: Wed, Aug 06, 2008, 10:28 AM »
I think that's the appeal of the Picture This forum, for me anyway. I love the way a certain picture can inspire a whole story, or a vivid character -- and the next person who sees the picture may have a completely different idea. These pictures certainly gave you a unique story idea, and you did a great job with it!

Offline NorthernLights

  • Administrator
  • Supreme VXer
  • *****
  • Posts: 29196
  • Packing up and moving out
Re: [Original] Second Nature [NC-17]
« Reply #13 on: Sat, Jun 01, 2013, 06:43 PM »