Book of the Whore (Liber Lupa)

Introduction:

Lorelei, that is my show name, or Lori as some call me. I am soon to be little more than a corpse ditched in an out of the way place. Whilst I await my most needed end I decided I would write here what led me to my circumstances. Firstly, before I go into my encounter with the grimoire, I shall give you briefly my background.

Prostitute, hooker, harlot, whore. Choose your word, it is what I am. Unlike many in that profession, I chose the life of prostitution. Unusually hormonal at a young age, I was more interested in what lay between people’s legs than my studies. Whilst this attitude, combined with my beauty, made me popular at school, it meant I achieved little in the way of grades. Yet this mattered little, for I already knew and planned what I would do.

My father, naturally, was much grieved by this. We argued furiously and I moved out to a small flat as an act of rebellion. My mother had died when I was young, apparently she had many mental issues and committed suicide. This left me as his only family, which is why, despite ignoring his threats and beginning my career, he cherished my frequent visits. Although we disagreed and still argued over my chosen path, I too loved my father and did not want him to get lonely.

Prostitution is legal in my country (which I shall not write here lest it help locate the grimoire and it fall to one unworthy). I went it alone without a pimp/manager, and rented out a small room for my trade.

Naturally I had dreams of becoming one of those much sought after and expensive courtesans, however it seemed that although I was the most beautiful at school, compared to those higher up in this industry I was rather mediocre. So I began to accept my lot as a common sex worker, I earned little but enough to get by, until a cold night in January…

I looked out of the door of my place of work, more a large window than a door, with shock and horror at who looked in.

It was a freezing night, thankfully it had not snowed yet. Yet it drove away customers and made for a rather quiet and unprofitable night. As usual I dressed in my lingerie and showed my wares to the passersby, most of them just tourists browsing the place than actual customers. I had begun to consider stopping early, until the woman strode up and knocked so hard she nearly cracked the glass.

She smiled flirtatiously at me, and I might have suspected a female customer had I not known her. I met her briefly once about two years ago, when I had one of those rare opportunities of acting as an escort at a party. Her name was Aeda (her escort name). I admired her greatly as soon as I saw her, achingly beautiful, she had that feline grace that caught every man’s eye and set my heart racing. I was amazed when she took an interest in me, she asked me about my experience as a prostitute earnestly and seemed to almost admire me. It was a night I recalled fondly, but I never saw her again.

Until now, where she stood out in the street completely naked, covered in fluids who people like me were all too familiar with, holding a book under one arm. She stared at me both seductively and feverishly. I half considered locking the door and calling the bouncers.

Yet even in that state she had that noble air that set my heart racing. I found myself opening the door and beckoning her in out of the cold.

“Thank you dear, I shan’t be long. Do not wish to keep you from your business.” She casually sat at the bed, apparently not caring how the fluids stained the sheets, and smiled at me.

I stuttered for a moment, her husky voice set my pulse racing faster and I had to control myself, “Aeda? What happened to you?”

“Many delightful things.” She purred, “But I have an appointment I must not miss, so I shall get to the point.” She held the book out to me, it was clothed in black leather, “For you.”

Puzzled, I took the rather slim tome and looked at the front cover. Whoever did the binding had put a lot of effort into it, for it was a beautiful thing. There was a picture which delighted me in how it played with my mind. I am not sure how it worked, but there was a picture of a naked and beautiful woman, not too dissimilar to Aeda. Yet if I tilted it slightly the picture became a charming rose with a very deep red but black stalk with thorns. The title perplexed me, “Lyber Luppa?”

Aeda gave a throaty chuckle and gave me the correct pronunciation, “Translates as Book of the Whore. Fear not, the rest of the text is nearly all in your language. It is a manual for those in our trade, and more, trust me it will lead you to the heights you once dreamed of.”

I had met her once briefly, why she presumed to know my dreams was beyond me then. I looked at the back of the book, it had a crystal clear mirror fixed there. I looked at my own reflection and felt that longing kindle vaguely, that desire to reach the higher echelons of my trade. I looked back at Aeda, “Thank you, but that does not explain what happened to you. Are you hurt? Why are you here?”

Aeda stood and indicated the book, “I am here to give you this boon. Forgive me but I can stay no longer.” With that she embraced me, I cringed slightly as I felt the sticky fluids against me, but it was swiftly overwhelmed by the thrill of having her body against me. It was remarkable how warm she was, after walking naked in the freezing night. I smelled a faint trace of what I now know was rose and sandalwood. “It is not you they see.” She whispered lovingly and cryptically into my ear.

Even more confused, I tried to talk her into staying, tried to find out what happened, but she had none of it. She gently dismissed my pleas and made her way back down the street. I called after her, asked where she is going. “Home.” It was all she said as she left me. I stared after her, walking in that confident way, until she disappeared from my sight.

Shaken by the encounter, I drew the curtains to be alone awhile. I sat on the bed, feeling the warmth of where Aeda had been, and studied the book. I opened it, the pages were all of high quality paper, but old and somewhat coloured. Fortunately the words were still legible.

I smiled as I read the first chapter. This part was not a manual, it was a poetic prose declaring the beauty of sex workers. In a world where those such as myself are treated as filthy and shameful, it was lovely to see someone write of us in such a positive way. I went home after the first chapter, feeling better than I had in a long time about my chosen trade.

Experiences with chapter one of Liber Lupa:

“Every Whore is a Rose” – Liber Lupa

It was a while before I could read the next chapter of Liber Lupa. Not because I did not want to, but because I was suddenly so busy.

The day after the encounter with Aeda I woke up feeling better than I had in a long time. That chapter had motivated me greatly, it felt good that there were those out there who appreciated those like me. Due to human traffic and those poor women forced to whore themselves, prostitution was given a bleak image and shrouded those like me who treated it as an art.

When I went to work later I was pleasantly surprised how many clients chose me over the others. It made for a busy, but profitable night. It was helped by how I was hornier than usual, which I assumed was because of my improved outlook on life.

I began to get more and more repeat clients. Some even came to the district solely to buy my services. Aware that such an increase in demand could be temporary, I booked my room for longer hours and worked on. Of course I became rather chafed in certain areas from overuse, but I worked on in fear that the next day the requests could drop once more. I had more requests for the more expensive acts, along with some I had to outright refuse. How ignorant I was back then!

I met my father every day for dinner, at one point he remarked how much healthier I looked. I had noticed this myself. Before the grimoire I would look in the mirror each morning and see all the tiny imperfections that made me feel not ugly, but not exquisitely beautiful either. However since that fateful night my cold relationship with the mirror changed and I found myself taking more time with applying make-up and adding the fine details.

By the end of January, the moment I feared finally happened. Body still aching and sore from overuse, I made my way to the district and offered myself for coin again. Despite the aches I was still rather horny and applied myself eagerly. Yet I had not one customer.

Although I never had time to read it, I found myself taking the grimoire as a lucky charm with me each night. The mirror on the back also proved very handy when I had to quickly redo my cosmetics. Since I was having little luck, I spent the rest of the evening taking in the next chapter.

Experiences with chapter two of Liber Lupa:

“Ahi Hay Lilitu!” – Liber Lupa

The next chapter was more manual-like in that it told how whores should exercise to better perform their craft. Some of it I knew already, but there were some things that were new. It also gave meditation methods which I rarely had the patience for. Yet the book spoke to its reader on the topic with such enthusiasm that I found myself practicing the techniques. Even the strange mantra it said I should whisper every morning and night. It called the mantra a devotion and mainly had requests to a deity as yet unknown to me to help me on my path. It ended with a word thrice after saying something that was not of any language I knew. Yet I did feel a lot more energised and motivated when I said it. It also flared my passion and made me more eager to work. I had always thought little of meditation, never being able to concentrate long enough to do it. Yet this one came naturally to me.

That night proved to be simply unfortunate. The next day was the busiest night I had yet. Demand grew each day to the point that I had to consider taking a break to let my poor body recover. Yet, by following the exercises, meditation and performing the devotion unfailingly, I noticed my body began to change. Despite the longer hours and increased effort required of me, the sores faded and I no longer ached as I had done. Indeed by the next day I felt as refreshed as though I had done nothing the night before. If anything, my vagina flared more than ever with eagerness.

A week into my practices I was to meet my father at a café for breakfast. When I sat down he seemed puzzled, then laughed. He apologised and said he did not recognise me. He asked if I had bought new make-up, and jokingly said it was probably his old age.

I knew this was not the case. I had also noticed the slight changes as I looked in the mirror every day. My hair was the first thing I noticed, it seemed to change its hue slightly. My eyes were also somewhat different. But I was pleased with the changes, I hardly noticed imperfections like I used to and saw a healthy and radiant woman staring at me. Truly those exercises were a marvel!

I got lucky when a client turned out to be a porn director. I eagerly accepted his offer to star in videos and, thanks to the wonderful tool that is the internet, was amazed at how popular I was so quickly. The money flowed in and I could finally move to a more spacious apartment, as well as indulge in treats such as fine wine, something I had found a taste for.

As February drew to a close I made it back home from my latest recording. I had booked my room to offer myself that night and dressed in my lingerie to head down. Rather than dressing whilst there I liked to walk down in my outfit, it thrilled to have the others gaze at me lustfully as I did so. I picked up my book and got ready to leave, then halted at the front door. It seemed selfish really, the book had done all this for me and still I had not read more. Not that I did not want to, I had grown up in school with an aversion to books, so to find one that so engrossed me was a new delight. It was just that I was so busy. I decided to sacrifice a night for my wonderful tome.

I poured myself some Cru red and settled myself on my new sofa. I opened the book and took in the next chapter.

Experiences with chapter three of Liber Lupa:

“Spread your legs to the world, turn none away, and you shall be the lowest yet the highest.”

– Liber Lupa

I had to give my apologies to my father frequently. More porn directors requested my services with good money. I had to travel frequently to be recorded in a variety of different locations to suit the scenario. Fortunately my role never changed. Whatever the poor storyline, I woodenly gave my lines then eagerly spread my legs, just as the book had told me.

It had gone into the importance of mirrors, which explained the mirror bound to the back of it. That those such as I should appraise oneself via such a tool frequently. This I did anyway. But it then went back into its poetic prose on the glory of spreading one’s legs. Usually I would have seen such a thing as silly. Yet it argued the symbolic importance of it so well I could not help but be convinced by it. Whereas before I would outright refuse some acts I began to experiment and accepted some practices.

I began to take it in the ass more, the supposedly taboo act of it exciting me. I would allow them to slap me and fuck me roughly. I even occasionally accepted not using a condom for the right price.

However, because I had to travel, I could not offer myself in the rented room I had often used, being some distance away.

I surprised myself when I found myself walking the street where I stayed, wearing very little, and offering my services. Once I would never have dared been a street prostitute, yet I flared with such passion I found myself doing so and impatiently seeking clients.

I noticed that, although I was hornier than ever, it became harder to orgasm. I had to be fucked hard to find release and even then the reprieve did not last long. Yet I accepted this, since it helped me stay in the right state of mind for my profession.

I decided to offer myself as an escort. Since demand for me had grown it seemed financially prudent to offer myself as such to the more wealthy clients. A website designer kindly set up a page for me, in return for me for the night of course. I invested in a computer and began organising the huge amount of messages sent to me. I had set a high price for myself, now more confident of my worth, and was amazed at the demand that still rocketed. I attended the kind of luxurious parties that I had only dreamed of before.

I still found time for my daily exercises however. I was shocked when I looked in the mirror one morning and saw a woman I barely recognised. My curves were far more accentuated than they had been, my breasts had swelled considerably, my hair had a sort of reddish tinge and my eyes were greener. I also missed my period that month, I took the necessary precautions.

Reflecting on how fast and different the past three months had been, I had a night at long last where I had no appointments and no prior engagements to attend. My vagina still flared and I yearned for release, but knew I should have a night to myself. I saw my book, always with me, lying invitingly on the table. I treated myself to a limited wine that had cost hundreds to acquire, curled up on the bed and began to read.

Experiences with chapter four of Liber Lupa:

“No greater than a single coin they accepted, for to be used in Her name was payment enough.”

-Liber Lupa

I watched the owl suspiciously as it watched me being fucked in the park. As I did so I could not help but reflect on the chapter I was up to in the grimoire. Usually history lessons bored me but this one positively enticed me. It told of an ancient empire called Sumeria and its temple priestesses. It briefly mentioned those dedicated to a goddess called Ishtar, but went into detail into a smaller following that worshipped a goddess termed ki-sikil-lil-la-ke. The name was strange to me and meant little, but the practices it discussed had me wet with enthusiasm.

It mentioned how other places talk of maiden-mother-crone, but that this triad was not for these priestesses. They followed their own triad of maiden-harlot-corpse, that they would obsessively seek to be used and spread their legs to anyone, desperate to be used in the name of their goddess. Apparently they were chosen by the goddess herself and trod the path of whoredom with Her guidance. I also noted that they never took more than a coin for their services, the coin symbolising their harlotry, the low value symbolising their availability. It also gave other symbols of their goddess, such as certain owls.

Naturally I did not have the luxury of taking only a single coin as payment all the time. Yet in following the grimoire I had accomplished more than I had ever dreamed. I decided to meet halfway and offer such a low cost to the occasional client.

As the man came the owl shrieked at me, approvingly it almost seemed, and flew away. I had woken more lustful than ever and before I knew it I was in the park wearing nothing but my knickers. The first man I came across, a grubby male who was likely homeless, I gave myself to for a mere copper.

I confess being such a cheap whore thrilled me more than ever.

Yet I also began to have doubts, started by looking in the mirror one day.

When I looked in the mirror I saw someone I did not recognise. The image even seemed to shift slightly of its own accord. If I took some of my long hair round I would see the colour I had known throughout my life. Looking in the mirror, however, I would see a luxurious auburn mane. My eyes were undoubtedly malachite. My skin was perfect alabaster. My breasts full and body voluptuous.

When I looked down at myself, I struggled to see the same body. Unsure of the book now, and remembering the state I saw Aeda in, I decided to leave the book alone for a while. “It is not you they see.” She had said. Speaking of whom, she appeared on the news. Her body was found in a ditch. I would have been intrigued as to how the corpse looked and how she died, but the report revealed no more beyond the fact she was dead and displayed old photos of her, I was shocked at how the woman in the photos looked nothing like her. In fact, the woman in the mirror looked more like her.

My father struggled to recognise me at all now, and seemed flustered when with me, probably because of my attire than my new look.

I could not stand wearing much clothing now, I felt hot and constrained when I did. No matter the weather I wore more to reveal than to hide. Even when doing simple tasks such as going to the shops for milk. Feeling the lustful and disapproving eyes roaming me felt wonderful and exacerbated my lusts no end. I started thinking of myself as being for sex and sex alone. I began seeing sex as the one truth and one purpose in my life. No matter how often I fornicated my body was ready to take the next one, as though remoulded for this purpose. Achieving orgasm was harder now, also, and I began to be more open to more distasteful acts to do so. Acts that I found bored rich people to be rather into.

I continued my escort service, as busy as ever if not more. Yet I was shocked at one party where a fight broke out between two men over me. Apparently one had sought to book me and was furious when he saw the one who had got me first. I am no expert on fights, but I am sure they would have killed one another had the other guests not intervened. Although rather bruised and cut, my client still took me home and appreciated my skill.

Another night came when, no matter how hard I tried, I could find no one to use me. No amount of masturbation helped. I used the internet, walked the streets. My lust flared and I was so desperate I put on a one night offer on my web page, of having my services for free.

Nothing.

I saw the book lying on the sofa and suspected it was punishment for not continuing my study of its content. Fearing what I was becoming, I did not wish to read the next chapter, yet I was almost certain that is what I had to do to find release from my desire. I gave an angry huff, got a wine that cost thousands, a treat for my growing success, and drank it from the bottle as I read the next part.

Experiences with chapter five of Liber Lupa:

“I am Lilith.” – Liber Lupa

“Oh yes! Yes! Harder!” I screamed as I took my daddy’s cock.

There was still some semblance of my former self as I did this, a sliver of my old self screaming at the insanity of this, but the sheer wrongness of it felt so good

I did not think it possible, but the next chapter left me even lustier. With that simple starting sentence, declaring the name of the goddess of true whores, I felt my thighs become slick with my own nectar.

It went into a glorious description of her, along with a list of her numerous names. But it was the first one that resonated within me. It was a captivating name, a name that rolled off my tongue as I said it to myself over and over. I never considered myself religious or spiritual. Indeed, before then I considered myself pretty much and atheist. Yet that name conjured images of a woman that, if she stood before me in material form, I would fall to knees in worship for. It was a name that brought to me both images of wonder, beauty and depravity all as one. It reminded me of Aeda, who had looked somewhat like the woman in those images it conjured, yet she was somehow not quite at the same level.

It also reminded me of the woman staring back at me in the mirror.

Although lustier, demand actually went down and I began to struggle for clients. I screamed at the book, at the woman in the mirror, at myself. As I was sucking cock for a single coin a little later I realised how my screams were not too dissimilar to that of the owl as it took flight that night in the park.

It was a few torturous days later I realised what I had to do to make demand grow again. Desperate to be fucked, I lowered prices and demand grew in relation to the drop. I recalled the chapter saying how the priestesses accepted only a single coin and knew where I was being led. Yet I could see no escape, I was prisoner of my own flesh as surely as any iron bars.

I began to learn that my body had been adapted solely for sex. I never grew cold, whatever the weather, nor did I ever become ill. I no longer menstruated either and was certain I could no longer bear children. I was being redesigned into a tool whose sole function was harlotry.

I experienced rape during one of the parties I attended, a masquerade filled with too rich aristocrats bored with life. I felt envy from every man towards the one who booked me and felt the tension in the air. As I went to the WC to check on my make-up one of the men burst in, scaring the other women out, tore off my thin skirt, bent me over the sink and began fucking me.

Naturally I should have been horrified and screaming, but my loins flared with the new experience and I found myself accepting him in me. There were mirrors above the sinks, I looked into it to see the man raping the woman of the mirror. She was completely naked in the mirror now, always. No matter what I wore I would look in the mirror and see her there free of all fabric and material. She looked directly at me and smiled knowingly.

My client rushed in and struck the man, knocking him to one side. I was expecting him to ask if I was all right, instead he did the same. He bent me back over the sink, grabbed me by the hair, and put his cock in me, only to be knocked out by the original man who had got back up. As he continued what was interrupted, myself groaning in ecstasy, I watched as the woman in the mirror began shaping her mouth to make out words of some sort and reach out one hand towards me. It was then horror and fear finally took over and I struck at the mirror with my fist.

The police later arrived and the cuts to my hand were bandaged. Naturally they took my strike at the mirror as a struggle against my oppressor. They were amazed when I flat out refused to press charges, but I could not, for I knew that they were not the ones who sparked it. Plus I sensed I would be punished if I did so, recalling the instruction to spread my legs to all regardless. The men were but poor playthings for the being that was turning me into something I dared not think about.

As the weeks drew on and the heat of summer made it easier to get away with wearing even less, I found myself becoming even more enflamed and having to lower my price in order to find work. One night, however, I woke up to find myself mad with lust. No matter what I did though, no one was around to cater to me. It was then the dark thought came to my mind and I phoned my father, saying I was coming to him at once due to an emergency. I wore nothing as I made my way there, the thought of wearing clothing during that state was horrific to me. My body felt hot and confining, I was feverish and recalled little as I travelled.

I no longer wanted sex, I needed sex.

His eyes opened wide when he opened his door to see his daughter naked and breathing heavily. But I gave him no time to say anything. I launched myself at him and tore away his clothing. He struggled briefly but sure enough the charms given to me by my deity took over and he was fucking me harder than anyone. “Yes daddy, fuck me daddy! Fuck me!”

We fucked like animals for a longer time than was natural. Too long. When he came I at last orgasmed. Then, clutching his chest he toppled over. Although I had gained release I was already beginning to feel the desire for more build within me. I did not need to be a doctor to know that my father was dead, yet the shame and guilt I knew I should feel did not come. Instead, I found myself taking a coin from his wallet and making my way back home. On the way, with a finger, I took some of the seed from my loins and brought it to my tongue, savouring the taste.

Once home I collapsed on the sofa, legs spread, my legs always seemed to be naturally spread and ready these days. I had sucked a man off on the way home and could still taste his seed on my palette, more exquisite than any wine.

Resignedly, I picked up the book and continued where I left.

Experiences with chapter six of Liber Lupa:

“You are a vessel to be used and discarded as She wills.” – Liber Lupa

I was rather unsurprised by how dark the next chapter was. No longer was it flattering and romantic like before. But then those wonderful words had been to the goddess, not me. I am but Her priestess, sworn to reject no one and accept everyone. The chapter went to great pains as to how disposable we are and how we should seek to be used and cast aside like the worthless strumpets we are. That we should seek to attain the final part of the triad as a true whore should.

Yet, although this chapter was more abusive and threatening in its words, it still left me on fire with passion. Although part of me was fearful of this new sensation, I found myself wanting to be fucked and disposed of like the pointless whore it was telling me to be. I got up after finishing this chapter and looked forlornly into the mirror. I did not flinch as the captivating woman reached to me, pressed her hand to the pane and mouthed words, words I could not make out.

I wore as little as I could, even striding around the city completely naked as I did menial tasks. Yet I was never arrested, and the eyes that roamed me were more reverent than chiding. Plus I could barely take a step before being used. Every few steps another would solicit his services from me and I, still mad with desire and not having found released since my father, took them.

I was informed by an officer that my father was found dead. They had no witnesses but had concluded by the scene that he had died during sex with a prostitute, his cock being out and the wallet found left to one side. I showed how grateful I was by fucking the officer and sending him on his way. I did not attend the funeral.

No act was above me now. Before my act after writing this, I would say my most depraved yet greatest act for the goddess came with my final act as an escort. Since being an escort often meant spending time at parties and less time fucking I struggled to focus at such places by then. Plus after the last incident I decided it would be best to avoid them. However a man offered a large amount and I decided one last event would be okay.

The man was already drunk when I arrived. Rather than the fancy dresses I wore before I could bear to wear nothing more than boots and very translucent underwear. Even then I would look down to see my fingers trying to slide my damp thong down. The man laughed at me, his breath thick with alcohol, and commanded me to remove my garments and get on all fours. I did so and spread my legs eagerly. I was sickened and excited when he had a servant lead one of his large dogs in. “Bastard has been aggressive lately. Needs a bitch to cool him off.”

I was going to refuse, but the sight of the cock dangling off it had my loins flare again and I begged to have it in me.

As the servant guided the hound into me and it began thrusting with its hips I could not help but moan. The client sat in the chair and began masturbating, but he stopped as the act progressed and watched with amazement, even adoration. As I felt the dog come in me I realised he was amazed at my willingness, that he had usually had to offer a vast amount before the whore accepted to do such things, whereas I fully let go of my passions and committed myself gladly.

He helped me up afterwards and looked at me in wonder, “Let’s go to the party before we are late.” It was all he could think to say I suppose. We made our way to the event, I had not reclaimed my underwear and he had not asked me to cover up. I amused myself by fondling him in the car as we were driven to a large mansion where it was hosted.

As soon as we entered the place all eyes set to me in wonder, then jealously to my client. It seemed my reduced presence at these parties made me more desired than ever. The air was verily cracking with tension as I refused the wine, no longer so drawn to such beverages, and began dancing with the man.

Yet as the party continued on my loins became more and more demanding. I grew hot and feverish with lust and every moment without sex was becoming an unbearable torment.

It was not long before I snapped, unable to take it any longer. I excused myself from my dance partner, took a crystal glass and spoon and stood on one of the tables filled with buffet foods. I kicked them off to make a clearing and tapped the glass. This was unnecessary however, for all eyes were on me as they had been since I entered, everyone had already stopped and awaited my speech.

“I am a whore-priestess. As Her vessel, I am bound to accept each and every one of you into me. Cast aside your societal constraints, be what you have always longed to be. Allow your desires to be suppressed no longer. Accept every part of yourselves and satiate your darkest urges upon me, that you may continue on accepting of who you are.”

Casting the glass and spoon aside, I sat down on the table and spread my legs to offer myself to them, “All I request in return is a single coin, for I am your most lowest and most debased whore yet your most highest and most purest goddess.”

A bloodbath ensued. All, male and female alike, beat and struck at each other to get at me and put me to use. Every hole of me was filled briefly before the user was beaten and dragged off and filled by another. Copper coins rained down, around and on me. I was soon on the floor working hard to satiate whoever got to me, careless of the blood being spilled and the deaths beginning to ensue.

Some of the women, frustrated at not being able to get at me, tore off their clothing and begged to be used the same way. But they were not chosen by Her, which became apparent as they were fucked, the frustration causing them to claw at one another as they did so.

Hours later, as sunlight began to stream through the windows, I rose from where I lay, covered in just about every human fluid imaginable. I was alone in the room, those who had survived and satiated themselves on me realised the trouble they were in and took flight. Blood and corpses decorated the vast room. I took it all in with detachment, disappointed that I had not found release from this and still yearned to be used.

But I will find the release I seek. I had accepted what I am now and cast all my fears aside. I whispered the devotion and offered myself to Her whole-heartedly.

When I got back, still covered, with more from clients gained during the long walk home, I strode immediately to the mirror. Naturally the woman was there, easily pressing her hand to the mirror and mouthing her words to me. I placed my hand affectionately against Hers and put all my attention into making them out. Slowly but surely I did so. The most powerful words I had heard in my life.

“I love you.”

I flushed with pleasure and wonder at this, that a being as great as Her would take such an interest in me.

A knock came at the door, I somehow knew it would be one of the many obsessed men who had learned my address. Smiling once more at the mirror first, I went and opened it

Experiences with chapter six of Liber Lupa:

“You Must Fuck!

Fuck and fuck then fuck some more!

Fuck until there is nothing left of you!

Fuck until every hole of you is raw

And you gain pleasure from the act no more.

Then spread your legs and surrender yourself

As an offering and sacrifice

For the pleasure and lusts of others!”

-Liber Lupa

I had the man fuck me whilst I read the next chapter in the book, the shortest one yet, with nothing more than a brief rhyming stanza of some sort. Yet as I did so the words came in my head as Her voice, husky and seductive. Whilst reading it did fill me with pleasure like the others it also filled me with determination. I am Her priestess, I must spread myself and fuck as much as possible in Her name. This may sound insane to you, as it should, this makes sense only to Her daughters and sons.

Nothing came of that blood filled night in the mansion. Since many rich and powerful people had attended I am sure it was covered up. Such a scandal would ruin many a lofty reputation.

I never accepted more than a single coin now, it was sacrilege to take more and went against my tenets as Her daughter. Neither did I ever wear clothing. She watched over me and ensured I was never halted in my path because of this. Whenever I looked in the mirror She would be there, giving me Her love and promising a glorious future. She looked more radiant now, She wore gold jewelry that covered nothing yet somehow made Her more erotic and She glowed as if dappled in moonlight. Truly this is my goddess!

Not taking more than a coin, I moved out of my apartment and took a tiny, dank abode in a derelict part of the city. It was a room with nothing more than a shower and toilet in one corner, a small mirror and dresser, sink and, more importantly, a mattress. The mattress took up most of the room and was an old filthy thing, but it sufficed for me. I allowed for nothing else save the book, my entire life was centered on being used as a whore.

I always left the door open and was almost always to be found on the mattress with my legs spread and ready, provided they had a coin. I no longer needed the exercises, now completely Hers. I had reached the point where I was almost in constant use, I accepted food they sometimes offered me and more often than not slept as I was fucked. The client, or clients, entered as fast as they left. Being a cheap whore unleashed the lowest dregs of people on me, allowing me to enjoy the most depraved experiences. Yet not once did I find release.

Nor did this bother me anymore. I considered myself a vessel to be used and discarded as my clients wished. It was no longer about reaching climax, but about surrendering myself to the lusts of others in Her name, that the chains of our system may be loosened if not broken all together. With everybody I gave myself to, I felt that much closer to understanding Her. I began to look at Her via the mirror on the back of the book, where She would whisper Her loving words to me and I, now able to, could hear them.

One late night I was being thoroughly pounded and abused. He was a chiselled, onyx skinned man with a cock few could compete against. He thrust into me with a total disregard for my feelings or how his cock tore me up inside. He beat at my back, grasped my breasts until I screamed, pull at my hair to the point that strands were pulled out. He shouted abuse and commands at me and slapped me across the face. Truly he knew how to delight me!

Not bothering to warn me, he ejaculated all over my face and tits. Not expecting it, it got into my eyes and I spent a moment regaining my sight. By the time I did so he was at the door sneering at me, taking a handful of coins out of my jar of offerings. Such cruelty set me on fire and I spread my legs to reveal my holes to him, begging him to do me over. He laughed and spat at me, then left, but not before I saw something silver fall from his pocket.

It was a rare moment when there was not another client waiting his turn. I got off my mattress for the first time in a while and picked up the item. I had enough experience with computers to know it is a memory stick. My loins tingled and I knew my goddess meant this as payment. Not owning a computer, however, I would have to venture out and begin visiting clients again until I could get access to one. Whatever was on there I knew I had to see it

So the next few months were an endless stream of cocks and cunts satiating themselves on me. I occasionally went to client’s abodes but had no luck gaining access to a PC. One Autumn night as the wind howled and the rain lashed, no one came to use me. An owl screeched in the distance and I smiled, knowing it was time to read the final chapter of the grimoire.

Experiences with chapter seven of Liber Lupa:

“Speak to none of the following chapter, only those deemed worthy may learn it.”

-Liber Lupa

As the first line I add here mentions, I shall speak nothing of the last chapter save that it reveals Her designs upon this world. It also assures me that I will reach the day when I may leave this realm for Hers and experience pleasures and satisfaction I could never attain here.

The way to this was finally shown to me during one of my excursions to a client. I went to some computer freak’s little den, all cables, screens and crisp packets around a bed. I made sure to exhaust him thoroughly so that he slept soundly. Once I was certain he was asleep I retrieved the memory stick and crept to the screen he had left on. I had seen enough of computers to know to put it in the USB port, but beyond that I was at a loss. Fortunately, once I put it in it seemed to do the rest itself. When the screen grew brighter and the tower whirred loudly I snapped my head back to the client, but he was fast asleep. Luckily, it seemed the speakers were on low, for as the video began to play there was only the faintest sound.

For it was a video, a porn, but not the sort that anyone would sell publicly. The man who dropped it was in the video, along with other men similar to him, all muscle, steroids and enormously erect cocks. To my delight I saw they surrounded none other than Aeda, the one who had started me on this path to enlightenment.

She still behaved and acted in the way she had. She smiled and winked at the camera seductively. I strained my ears to hear her welcome the men and announce how excited she was to be fucked and disposed of today. She proclaimed how she had finally been shown the way to Her. She then went into a lengthy speech about societal constraints, unleashing our desires, things I had learned already on my path.

Then the show began.

They fucked and did vile and terrible things to her. She was barely recognisable by the end of it. Yet she dutifully kept working to see every cock pleasured regardless. Upon her death I saw she orgasmed violently and felt a fresh wave of lust rush through me. They dragged her body away and I removed the disk. I left the home and returned to my den, no longer needing to leave it now. No sooner had I arrived than clients began entering and using me. I set to with more vigour, knowing I would be entering Her realm soon.

Unsurprisingly, the man returned not too long after. Being near such a violent killer had me shiver with anticipation. Once he had fucked me in a similar manner to before I showed him the stick just as he was making his exit. He glared at me menacingly, an expression which only turned murderous when I told him I had watched it. No doubt he was awaiting the conditions of the blackmail, but his hateful glare turned to a nasty smile when I demanded to star in one of those movies.

He came back and fucked me again a few days later, with news that all is prepared and where I am to meet them. On that day, I used a handful of my coins for pen and paper.

Epilogue:

So I write this before I head to my final few clients. Truly my body shivers with excitement, thinking of the things they will do to me. As Her priestess I will make the ultimate sacrifice to see their lusts slaked. I will achieve the final triad and enter Her realm at last.

I am not fully sure why I write this. Unless you are one of Hers, and a fully enlightened one at that, this will all seem mad and sick to you. I do not expect understanding. But if it helps but one of Her children on the path of whoredom then it will be worth the endeavor. Perhaps it will even reach the eyes of one with a copy of the grimoire.

I know not if there are other copies out there. As for my own, I have given it to a promising whore whom I have carefully left out here. Upon meeting her I knew she was the next one to receive the text. I hope to meet her again soon.

I am running out of time, an owl screeches impatiently. I shall leave you now dear reader, make of this what you will. Just know that all things are to Her design, and a time shall come when our suppressed lusts set this world aflame.