Published:
February 13, 2025
Die Nutte
This book was originally intended as a commissioned work that I received via my email address. However, we couldn't find common ground and the time I spent on some chapters would have been wasted. The plan for the book was already in place, and I decided to enrich the story with my own ideas and publish it.
According to the initial idea that was supposed to come from the commission, two or even more books were planned. Therefore, this part will be followed by at least one more to complete Natascha's story and bring it to an end. Possibly even a third part will follow, depending on how quickly I advance the development in the second part.
Chapter 1
In hundreds of stacked crystal glasses, the champagne shimmered in the blinding light of the spotlights at the opera house. The city had invited us to an event where my husband and I were able to attend. Our small donation for the planned hospice was what earned us this invitation. So, although the donation wasn't actually that small, it apparently sufficed to reward us with this party. Throughout the entire event, a whole bunch of well-known men in expensive suits roamed around, and not a few women showed up in the finest clothes they could find in their wardrobes.
My husband had thrown himself into a black tuxedo, and I wore an enchanting very modest dress by Chanel for this occasion. It was in a night-blue tone, covering almost all of my body, but it had a slit up to my hip so that one could walk properly in it. In addition, it showcased my long legs beautifully. The neckline revealed only a little of my bare skin towards my D-cup bust. This wasn't the reason for very open clothing and accordingly I held back quite a bit in my choice. But neither were the other women particularly revealing.
The slightly chilled millionaires' soda was of highest quality and prickled nicely on the tongue. Some couples danced to restrained music, and everywhere small groups of people gathered together, chatting. My husband and I were also standing with some other guests. What it was about interested me actually not at all. The conversations in this circle mainly dealt with trivial matters, in which my husband clearly knew more than I did. I was only the delicate doll by his side and moved around unwillingly at such events.
My husband often called me the shy girl from the suburbs, which hit the nail on the head quite accurately. Social occasions were not really my thing. I simply couldn't compete with the spectacle of all these rich businessmen and the high-nosed glances of their wives. It wasn't me at all, and I didn't feel comfortable among so many people. Most of all, I liked being in the role of the obedient housewife who hid behind a good book after doing some housework and got on the treadmill three or four times a week to stay fit and keep the wrinkles under control.
By mid-thirties, you had to do something to remain presentable. Even though I asked more and more questions about whom I was actually doing all this for. My husband was anything but an interested lover. Soon after our wedding, nothing really happened in bed anymore. His penis went into a long hiatus and wasn't really noticeable anymore. It got so bad that he even stuffed something into his swimsuit during our vacation to make himself look bigger than he actually was. For children we could never get excited, but even aside from that, he would probably not have been able to fuck me hard.
On the other hand, he showered me with some luxury. He earned a fortune with his luxury cars and the car service for wealthy customers. That was his world. Nothing surpassed the outrageously expensive noble cars with their promising names and perfectly dressed chauffeurs who drove his customers through the city. He himself liked to sit at the wheel of his elegant BMW and drive to his appointments, only to then put on his uniform and make a fool of himself driving a Bentley. At least I didn't have to work.
Money wasn't an issue, we had plenty, and most of the time I got help with housework from a cleaner who took care of our villa. I just had to worry about putting the freshly washed clothes into the closet and cooking a little in the evening. Usually only for myself because my husband, whom I married, drove some customers around the neighborhood. On this party, however, I didn't think about my expenses at all. I was standing next to my man, who always did the big promotion for his car service when he stood among the suit-wearers. Actually, it bored me. I simply didn't fit into this society.
Because of this, I also looked for an alternative occupation at this party. There had to be something in this damned hall that brought me closer to my kind of fun. So I drank my glass and made it clear to my husband that I would take care of a refill for myself. In his crystal glass there was still more than enough champagne. Determinedly, I headed towards the built-up bar, took another glass with the sparkling wine, and looked around a bit among the visitors. Behind a column made of light marble, I then discovered a woman who definitely didn't fit into the neatly dressed elite.
Instead of a dress like all the millionaires' dolls, including myself, she wore heavy leather pants, thick high boots, and a slightly cut-out shirt. Her makeup also didn't fit in with the colorless crowd at all. The climax was her hairdo. The small curls in her hazelnut-brown long hair stood in all directions, and one strand of it hung over her eyes. At first glance, I would have thought she was a punk girl who had wandered here by mistake. However, she held a glass of shampoo in her hand and was talking while chewing to a guy in a black suit.
As I got closer, I then discovered why she was talking while chewing. Between her teeth, a bright red piece of chewing gum shimmered in the light. Actually, I just wanted to take a round through the whole hall and not get involved with her, but that didn't happen anymore. The glass in her hand landed somewhat unceremoniously on a side table, and she started moving. She came closer to me a bit more. A whole group of wild discussing women blocked my way, and I had to take a detour that brought me even closer to her direction. I made sure not to be hit by the wildly gesturing women when I suddenly bumped into her. Before I landed on my nose, I was caught in her heavy leather pants, and she only looked at me piercingly for a moment.
"Can't you stand on your own legs? I'd rather pour this high-proportioned bubble water down my throat than into my neckline," she said somewhat sourly and pointed to her top with the stain from my glass. I had accidentally spilled half the glass into her décolletage.
"I'm really sorry! That wasn't my intention," I apologized and wanted to continue on my way, but she held me by the arm and said, "Do you want me to walk around the party with a shampoo-scented shirt? You clean that up nicely!"
Without another word, she pulled me by the arm to the bar, asked a waiter for a cloth, and handed it to me. Embarrassed, I stood in front of her and dabbed the few drops from her chest. However, this wasn't enough for her either. Again, she pulled me by the wrist behind her towards the next toilet. After a quick look in the mirror on the wall, she complained again more clearly about the mess my glass had left behind. In short, she took off her shirt over her head, handed it to me, and ordered, "Clean that up!"
This completely threw me off. I wasn't used to being treated so disrespectfully. Actually, there was only a brief conversation, a word of apology, and then the topic was settled. Not in this case. Like a young schoolgirl, I stood next to the younger woman with her top in my hand and couldn't help but glance at her upper body. Only a slightly reddish bra still covered her firm breasts. In addition, there was a whole lot more to discover. Her entire left arm was covered with a colorful tattoo that rather looked blue, and around her navel was a massive black star, dangling in front of it on a small silver chain.
Something like this I had never seen before. Not at all on these boring parties. Naturally, she noticed my interested glances, but said nothing about them. Instead, she even positioned herself a bit more into the light so that I could take a closer look. Nevertheless, she naturally also expected me to rinse the sparkling wine I had spilled on it with water from the tap. With a slightly softer voice, she pointed this out and I slowly turned my eyes away from her upper body. However, she was standing so conveniently behind me that I could observe her body in the mirror.
While rinsing the stains in her top with warm water, I continued to look at her. She strutted a bit back and forth, looking at me through the mirror as well, until she said, "It seems like you didn't expect someone like me at this party, right?"
Slightly amused with a restrained smile I replied, "Not at all! As always on these parties, I actually expected the usual ladies in their expensive costumes and the soft conversations."
"I don't really fit into this kind of celebration either, but after a small donation I received an invitation to this event. Since many of my business partners are here, naturally there was nothing else for me than to be seen here. Unfortunately, they're all with a stick up their ass and normal conversation doesn't take place. In addition, the tightly closed sluts who get rain in their noses on bad weather."
I lost my words. This woman didn't care about the usual etiquette and articulated herself completely differently than I was used to. On the other hand, I found it very refreshing. It was something completely different and actually captivated me right away. Even though I stood in front of her rinsing her top, a very pleasant conversation developed between us. She wasn't quite as unfriendly as at first and somehow she liked my evening dress. At least I noticed the short glances she took at it. This surprised me because she looked like someone who would never wear such a dress with her black heavy pants and thick boots.
I handed her the cleaned top again, whereupon her gaze became slightly gloomier again. Then she said, "Do you think I should wander around the party with a completely wet top? At least dry it off."
Great, first I had to clean it and then also dry it. How did she imagine that? Again, I stood like a schoolgirl in front of the sink searching for a way to dry her top. The first thing that came to mind were the many paper towels in the dispensers. However, this didn't really have much drying effect. The thin paper was immediately soaked and only spread the water further. That wouldn't work. My next glance fell on the small white machine on the wall next to the sink. You could dry your hands with it. If that worked for hands, it must also work for fabric.
So I held her top under the warm air stream from the device and watched as it slowly dried again. However, I noticed the comical glances from behind again. This woman seemed really interested in my dress, or maybe she just liked the heavy satin fabric it was made of. However, I couldn't find out further. Her top was dry again, and I gave it back to her. She put it on again, adjusted it a little, and looked at herself in the mirror on the wall. With that, she was then satisfied.
But we remained alone together in the toilet and continued our conversation. I wanted to know what she actually did, since she mentioned conversations with business partners. She looked at me for a few seconds and said then, "I am a mediator for high-priced services. Either way, I have already dealt with all of those outside. Only you I haven't seen anywhere yet. You must be new."
"Ach, quit being new," I complained. "I don't really go to such parties often because I don't like them. Most of the time, I leave these events to my husband, since he feels comfortable there and can offer his services."
She raised an eyebrow and asked, "Who is your husband?"
"Hans Kaiser, the..."
"Flaccid Dick Hans?" she interrupted me. "Then you must be Natasha. I've heard a lot about you. Nice to finally meet you. I'm Cassandra Hagen, called Cassy by friends. Your man, or whatever you call him, has been known to me for a while."
"Do you know my husband?" I asked surprised.
Cassy laughed, "Flaccid Dick Hans is probably known to everyone. A talker like he's written in the book. He doesn't have much in his head other than cars and most people consider your so-called wife Natasha a myth. But you can tell me a little bit. As I've heard, his mouth is much bigger than the cock between his legs. Is that really true?"
I was slightly taken aback. Cassandra certainly didn't hold back when it came to talking about something. However, she seemed to know some things about my husband and I wanted to find out what else was circulating about him. First, though, I had to answer her question. Hesitantly, I said, "I'm missing a bit of comparison possibility. What's big, what's small?"
"You must have seen a porn in your life," she challenged me.
Of course, I had already seen some pornos in my life. Since our wedding, it felt like thousands of them. Since almost nothing happened in our marital bed in that direction, and yet I had certain needs, I watched such movies while masturbating. But telling her all this would somehow feel wrong. It might portray my husband and then also me a bit in the wrong light, and I didn't really want to do that to my husband. Accordingly, I tried to get out of the situation a little, but the punk girl with the heavy boots pressed on.
Smiling, she said, "Out with it, girl. You don't want to tell me you're keeping a blonde with big tits just to look at her, do you?"
Could she read minds? For Hans I was really just something like a trophy he liked to put on a shelf to please his eyes. Unfortunately, he hardly used his favorite object. Cassandra fixed me with her piercing eyes and waited for me to tell her everything. With that, she had already broken through my inner resistance, and I became a bit more open. Quietly, I said, "There's really not much. However, it's worse that you're right. In our bed, only extremely rarely something happens."
Cassandra laughed widely and pulled me by the wrist back to the party. There she sat down with me at a table and bombarded me with questions.
Chapter 2
Outside at the table, things then became really bad. Cassandra didn't hold back and questioned me about the most intimate moments of our marriage. However, she did this extremely skillfully. She must have noticed that I wasn't good at dealing with someone who asked so dominant and direct questions. In addition, it had another completely different effect on me which I kept hidden from her. I became smaller in my chair. With every new question I answered, I slid deeper into my chair. Probably my subconscious wanted to hide somehow.
But there was still another round coming for me that I never expected. Cassandra sat upright, leaned slightly toward me and whispered almost, "Have you ever thought about looking for a guy outside your marriage with Flaccid Dick Hans who can give you in bed what you can do with a normal cock?"
No, I hadn't really thought about it so far. Of course, my husband's penis was clearly too small and he only used it once every leap year on me, but to get something outside our marriage that I didn't get at home was absurd. At least from my perspective until then. Cassandra, however, didn't take my answer seriously at all and tested me with something else.
"I know a convinced single guy with an attractive cock in his pants. He can show you what decent sex is. With your tits he's almost immediately convinced. Should I arrange a meeting?" she asked me completely openly.
This punk girl was actually offering me, right there on the party, a side tryst with my husband. Did I really want to accept this immoral offer? After a short pause to think, I said, "No. I'm faithful to my husband and prefer to do it myself."
"Okay Natasha. I'll make you an appointment with him so that you can get your money's worth. No objections!"
Had she not understood me correctly or intentionally misunderstood? I had clearly rejected her offer, yet she wanted to arrange a meeting for me? Unfortunately, she had a very convincing way of immediately stifling my resistance. This extremely dominant attitude and her entire appearance made me into liquid wax that she could knead however she wanted. I couldn't resist it. Even at the table, she got my phone number from me, checked with a call if the number was correct, and then let me know that she would make the appointment with him and that I would be properly fucked then.
Right after that, she stood up, turned around and disappeared into the crowd of party guests. When I finally regained clarity in my mind, I actually wanted to look for her and talk it all back. With my height of almost 1.80 meters, I could easily spot the guests and Cassandra was not easy to miss in her outfit. However, I couldn't find her with my eyes anymore. Stunned, I stood at the table with my phone in my hand and didn't know what I actually wanted to do. Everything had happened so quickly that I didn't even notice how badly this punk girl played with me.
I left the table in the direction where Cassandra had disappeared. Like a little child, I tried to follow her and save what could be saved. But even after several looks, she was gone and I couldn't see her anywhere else that evening. While I searched the party crowd with my eyes, suddenly my husband stood next to me, put his arms around my hips and pulled me outside. He hadn't noticed at all who I had been talking to the whole time. His advertising efforts among the guests must have been successful. Uninvited, he pulled me to his car and like a robot, I got into the passenger seat.
On the way home, he filled my ears with how many orders for his company came up. Even the mayor could be convinced once to accept his offer. What I experienced didn't interest him at all. Not even a small inquiry. I was just a decoration for him while he turned the party into an advertising event. In the garage, he parked the car and simply disappeared into the bathroom. Since it was already late, I went to the bedroom, changed and lay down in our bed with a throbbing head.
Hans came out of the shower later, dressed in his flower-patterned pajamas, and lay next to me. There was a small kiss, as every evening, before he turned over and fell asleep within minutes. I lay awake for half the night. In my thoughts, I re-experienced the whole encounter with Cassandra again. What had she done to me? Like an immature child, she had made me really tell her everything about my marriage and at the end of the conversation also forced a side tryst on me. I certainly couldn't talk to Hans about it.
Only in the early morning did my head finally stop and I fell into a very restless sleep. Shortly after six o'clock in the morning, my husband's alarm clock woke me up. He jumped out of bed, went to shower and put on his driver's uniform. With a small kiss, he said goodbye to me, disappeared into the kitchen and drank some coffee. Only minutes later I heard the car starting from the garage and my husband drove away. After my few hours of sleep, getting up was unthinkable. About half an hour later, I fell asleep again and only got out of bed when our cleaner basically tore apart the whole kitchen.
Weary, I dragged myself to the bathroom, turned on the shower and tried to forget the horror night. For breakfast, I had a sparse meal in the kitchen and watched Henriette, our cleaner, working. She had been working for us for a long time and we got along well. However, she avoided talking to me during work. She always felt like she had forgotten something. But before my coffee cup was empty, my phone rang next to me. A number was not displayed on the screen. I answered the call and said, "Kaiser."
From the receiver came Cassandra's cheerful voice, "Good morning, Natasha. I've made your appointment! Today at 4 p.m., you meet him at Brunnenstraße 144, Apartment 18. Karl is already looking forward to your tits. Put on a bit of nice underwear and then let him fuck your brains out, understood?"
Completely shocked, I asked Cassandra again for the address and didn't even think of objecting. Before I could come up with the idea of explaining my concerns and the rejection of the side tryst to her, the line was already dead. Stunned, I repeated the mentioned address once more and typed it into my phone. From the background, Henriette commented, "Brunnenstraße 144? A single apartment there costs as much as a skyscraper in Dubai. For such an appointment, I would sell my firstborn."
"So expensive?" I asked her.
She turned to me, looked at me with big eyes and said, "That's one of the most exclusive addresses in the city, Natasha. Everyone who walks around there has more money in the bank than we can earn in our whole lives."
What had Cassandra said? She mediated high-priced services? I thought of such businessmen like my husband, but I would never have dreamed that she had friends in these circles. Especially not like she looked. She seemed more like a girl from the ghetto who mixes with rockers on heavy motorcycles. That fit better with her expression. But that she could call multiple millionaires friends already made me think. Exactly there should I experience my side tryst, which I actually didn't want.
Throughout the whole day, my thoughts revolved around this appointment and I was completely in a role. Soon after lunch, I stood in front of my wardrobe and rummaged through my underwears. Somehow nothing seemed right and nice enough to me. Most of it was just comfortable for me and my big breasts but didn't quite fit the required category. With my husband, I couldn't score with underwear anyway. He didn't care at all what I wore underneath, so I had long since given up on decent underwears.
Without hesitation, I decided to take some money out and buy something nice in a specialty store for women's lingerie in the city. To prevent my husband from finding out, I planned to drive by the bank first and take cash with me. On the credit card statement he would immediately see it, which would raise questions, so I bought such underwears. It didn't matter to him anyway and I wouldn't show it to him either. I had tried that years ago to spice up our sex life a bit. But after the first unsuccessful attempts, I gave it up.
I got into my car, drove to the bank and took 1000 euros in cash with me. With that, you could already buy something nice. With the money in my pocket, I then went to the city center and parked my car in a parking garage. From there, I walked to a side street to the clothing store of my choice. Behind the dark windows, I met a young employee who immediately asked if she could help me. Of course, she could help me. I explained to her shortly that I was looking for a nice combination of underwears to seduce my husband.
Her next question was my correct size and also which color he would like. Naturally, I stood a bit stupid there. My clothing size 36 and bra size 75-D I could directly throw at her, only the color was a bit difficult. I couldn't seduce my husband with that anyway and there was no preferred color. Only for my side tryst I knew it just as little. I had never seen him and didn't know what he liked to see on me. I decided on a bright red one. As I had read, most men like that.
The young saleswoman led me further back and showed me an entire range of red underwears. Some she took out and laid them in front of me so I could get an idea and also see how they were. I found two pairs immediately that I liked very much. I took them into the changing room to try them on right away. The first combination was almost transparent lace panties and a rather closed, yet transparent bra, which I really liked. However, I felt too exposed in front of the mirror. That didn't fit me.
I put on the other combination and marveled at myself in the mirror. My bright white skin and the deep red matched perfectly. The string bikini was completely smooth and covered my pubic triangle and the shell bra was slightly offset, opaque and supported only my upper parts. It also felt really good. The young saleswoman asked from outside if she had hit my wish. I pulled the curtain a little open and smiled at her. This combination I wanted to wear for my side tryst. She put on a wide grin, waited until I had dressed again, and accompanied me to the cash register.
This combination cost almost 300 euros, which my husband financed so that I cheated on him. But this whole thing wasn't even my idea. Cassandra was the driving force behind it and I somehow couldn't even talk her out of a foreign fuck. Not to mention protesting at all. With the newly purchased item, I walked back to the parking garage, paid my ticket and then drove home. In front of the large wall mirror in our bedroom, I put on my underwear again and then looked for the matching clothes for my side tryst.
I decided on a cream-colored knee-length skirt and a radiant white stretch top. Underneath you could see the red of my bra, but with a light jacket over it, I could already go out on the street. After a glance at the clock, I became increasingly nervous. I suddenly didn't feel like going to my meeting point at all. I felt a clear pulling in my stomach, which clearly indicated that my courage had completely disappeared. Panic-stricken, I searched my phone for Cassandra's number. She simply had to cancel this appointment.
Unfortunately, I found less than nothing. Cassandra hadn't given me her number, but only took mine. Her number was suppressed during her brief call and also during the morning call wasn't visible. So there was no possibility for me to call her and ask her to cancel the appointment. Nearly trembling, I did my makeup in the bathroom and tried to calm down. Not even my hands could stay still and I almost stuck the brush with the mascara into my eye. For a few minutes, I stood in front of the mirror, looked myself in the eyes and asked my reflection, "Why are you doing this, Natasha? Are you actually completely stupid?"
Apparently, I was really not in my right mind anymore. Nevertheless, time simply continued against me and I had to make my way in a few minutes. This put additional pressure on me. I couldn't calm down anymore. Instead, my nervousness got worse. Since I would only be out in light clothes, I also had to wear light shoes. The only pair in my shoe closet that matched my clothes were white patent leather high heels. Actually, I didn't need such shoes. Who needs a woman almost 180 cm tall on heels that add another 10 cm?
I couldn't drive in these shoes either. This meant either I put on flat shoes for driving and then changed into the matching shoes, or I remained barefoot. However, this only made me even more nervous. But there was no more time left to change anything about my appearance. The clock ticked mercilessly and I had to make my way to Brunnenstraße. Again I ended up in my car and drove again into the city completely upset. I didn't feel good at all. The mentioned address was really something else than a social apartment.
I stood in front of a huge building with deep blue windows and dark brown intermediate floors. I stepped onto my patent leather shoes and marched into the building. Immediately, I was illuminated by two men in blue security uniforms with their eyes. In the lobby there was nothing except the reception with the two men behind it and some entrances to elevators. Before I even had a chance to look for the apartment, one of the two asked me where I wanted to go and if I had an appointment with a resident.
Like a schoolgirl, I quietly told him that they were expecting me in apartment 18. As a name, I told him that a certain Cassandra had made the appointment for me. Just by the name Cassandra, his gaze became slightly softer and he pushed me toward an elevator. With a key, he opened the cabin, pushed me inside and pressed the button for the fourth floor. He said, "Get out on the left and then on the right side is apartment 18."