Making my way towards the entrance, I noticed Dean’s office light was on. I wondered what he was still doing at work. Dean never likes to work late. Hell, Dean doesn’t like to work.
I heard him groan. He sounded like he was in pain. I wasn’t sure. I had never heard him sound like that. I made my way quietly toward his office door. Maybe I forgot my phone because of divine intervention?
I remained quiet as I walked toward the office entrance. I didn’t want to alarm him if he was already in pain. The door was ajar, but he wasn’t able to see me from the angle I approached from. I heard him groan again, this time lower than the last groan.
“Dean?” I whispered.
Imagine my surprise when I discovered Dean wasn’t moaning out of pain. He stood, his back to me and the door. His pants were around his ankles and he was thrusting and moaning.
“Yeah, fuck! That’s it!” he said. I thought he was just being a creep jacking off to rush hour traffic until I realized two hands were gripping his thighs.
Stacy’s hands.
Stacy was on her knees, shirt unbuttoned and tits on display, getting facefucked by Dean, who seemed to be enjoying every single moment. The top of his meaty hand held her in place as he fed her with his other hand. Her huge breasts swayed and jiggled as she tried to steady herself with the rhythm of his thrusts. Maybe it wasn’t the right time for me to notice, but she had gorgeous strawberry areolas. They were not too small, nor too large. The nipples themselves were really plump and erect.
“You know how long I’ve been wanting to shove my cock in your mouth? Huh?” he said, pumping furiously. His breath was ragged and jagged. “Coming to work all the time with those fat tits of yours on display, teasing me all day. Now I’m giving you a mouthful of cock, you naughty office slut. I’m fucking your face while I overlook the city of Dallas…”
Stacy seemed to cringe at his words. Dean was never the most attractive man in the room, but having to hear him discuss how often he wanted to fuck the shit out of your mouth could make anyone cringe.
Dean looked down at her displeasure and slapped her. “You better act like you’re enjoying this, bitch. You’re getting forty grand a year for nothing. It’s about time someone put you to good use.”
I watched him extract his penis, coated in saliva and throat juice, from Stacy’s mouth. He started slapping her in the face with his penis, then presented it to her and ordered her to kiss it and thank him for still having a job. Stacy started to cry and he slapped her again.
“Bitch what did I tell you about acting grateful?!”
“I’m sorry,” she wailed. “I’m sorry sir.”
“Kiss my balls. Apologize to them. I don’t want to hear it, you spoiled, bratty, big tit bitch.”
Nobody would have thought Dean had such a nasty ass side to him. He was being a real prick to Stacy. I wondered if that’s how he always was in bed, or whether it was because he was in a position of power over her. Clearly, whatever was going on, he had her by the balls. His balls.
I watched as the fat bastard had tired himself out degrading the poor girl. He sat down, again still facing away from the door, and pushed Stacy’s face further between his hairy thighs.
“I can’t wait to fuck that pussy of yours,” he sneered. He shoved her head all the way down his dick, told her to hold it there, and then did something completely unthinkable. He farted. It was a loud, disgusting, wet-sounding fart.
You know he actually fucking laughed when he did that? Humiliating her was part of his sick arousal. She nearly gagged at the sound, and she seemed even more angry and upset moments later. This seemed to elicit more of a dickhead response from him.
“Whew! I guess it smells as bad as it sounds, huh?” he said. “Sorry honey, I had Mexican for lunch. It was so good, but it always messes with my stomach. Try not to let it get to you.”
Pulling myself away from this view was impossible until that happened. This was so disgusting and degrading. I couldn’t believe what Dean was doing to Stacy. At the same time, part of me liked it. My body betrayed its lust; I felt my nipples harden underneath my outfit. Watching the two of them, I was horrified for Stacy, and even more horrified of Dean. What he’d done was enough to scar a woman for life – and he wasn’t even touching me.
CHAPTER TEN
I stayed up all evening thinking about the fucked up scene I unintentionally saw at work earlier. What was going on with Stacy? Was she really subjecting herself to Dean in order to keep a job?
I knew her position on whoring, but she was basically whoring herself for Dean, even if she didn’t think anyone else knew.
Mom called. She asked how things were. I distinctly remember telling her about the situation. She laughed.
“Mom! You think it’s funny that this guy is forcing her to have sex and farting?”
“No honey, of course not,” she said. “That’s absolutely disgusting.”
“Well what’s so funny?” I shot back, cheeks burning. “She’s my friend and I care for her.”
“I’m sorry, dear. I laughed because that’s just nerve wrecking to hear about. I didn’t know how to process it any other way. However, this is the kind of stuff your father worries about when he thinks of you in Dallas. He knows how men can be. Honey, he is a man.” She turned the conversation on to me. “This guy hasn’t attempted to get you to behave in such a degrading manner, has he?”
I swallowed. “No, mom. Not at all. My job at GemTech is important and I carry myself with respect.” I only let men treat me like that when they’re paying $2,000 a session.
“Well, then honey, you have to mind your business and count your blessings. Whatever this girl is going through, she’s doing what she has to in order to survive. This is why your father works hard honey. He never wants to see you in a position to compromise yourself for any reason. Some women don’t have fathers who are willing to work hard and provide so they don’t put themselves in compromising positions.”
Stacy wasn’t the only one compromising herself. If only she knew. “You’re right, mom. I’m going to get off the phone and prepare for tomorrow. We have a long stretch ahead. I’ll be in New York in a few weeks. I’ll keep you posted. Love you, k?”
I got off the phone as quickly as I could manage, and then hopped in the shower, where I burst into tears.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Do you worship cock?”
That was the question I got in my email from a client inquiry. I wasn’t prepared for this. I’d never even heard of cock worship until I searched online to get a faint idea of what it was.
Cocking my head to the side, I read a few basic descriptions of cock worship before I responded. Apparently, this form of worship had a description that was best described as variant, but it came down to was the ability to provide focused love, adoration and affection of a man’s penis.
Was I cock worshipper? No, no I wasn’t. I preferred to give my clients head more than sex, but that was pretty much it. More or less, I was someone who exchanged conversation and sexual attention for money, but to a general man, I wasn’t a cock worshipper.
I could, however, play the part if the price was right.
“I adore and worship cock. Yes, I am a cock worshipper. One hour of worship is $1800.”
Having read that specialized requests commanded more, I pushed my hourly rate for the hell of it. If I’m going to be with a man who wants me to worship his crotch, I need to make it worth my time.
His response: “I don’t want an hour. I want an evening. I was told you are skilled in your oral work. My offer for the evening is $5,000 upfront. $1,000 to hold the appointment, the rest in cash upon my arrival. I’ll also book the suite. You’ll receive a handsome bonus if I’m pleased with your services.”
This was different than most of the other client offers. Nobody had ever asked me to worship their penis before; further, nobody ever questioned the in-call services I had. I usually booked the suite I planned to stay in, gave them the directions or th
e address, and took control from there.
Nevertheless, a guaranteed $1,000 upfront and $5,000 total as a base for a couple of hours seemed more than worth it. No, I still hadn’t caught on fully to being in love with the escort business, but I needed to save as much as I could, and…well, I was getting used to the money.
I admit there are plenty of times where I’ll make the most of my situation. Being a slut for pay was never something I set out to do in my life, but it was one of the most lucrative decisions I had ever made.
It’s kind of messed up, isn’t it? I came from a solid, all-American household, an upper-class family at that, and despite my upbringing and education, I was still making money on my knees because the traditional route failed me.
In a way, it is what it is, I suppose. I’d read in the paper that something like more than half of today’s graduates struggle with unemployment and underemployment. I have felt the pain myself, and now that I was employed, the problem was being employed and underpaid for my work. How did Bush and Obama expect us to survive this economy?
*****
The client, who only referred to himself as “RJ,” booked a penthouse suite at Joule. He had arranged for me to arrive there before he did to get ready.
Can I tell you how gorgeous the penthouse was? It was utterly indulgent and opulent. The penthouse had two bedrooms, two and a half bathrooms… it was pretty much a full-blown apartment. There was a living room, dining room and kitchen plus a library. What kind of hotel suite has a library in it? I had never seen such a thing.
As I took in the exquisite detail in the décor and design, I prepared for my client by reading up on cock worship and how to do it properly. There isn’t a lot of detail on how to do it. It’s mostly driven by a desire to worship your partner’s genitals in love and affection like a devoted slave. I was kind of at a loss trying to figure out what to do. Did I bow down and declare myself unworthy of it like a lowly peon to a king? Did I blow kisses at it and call it holy? How did I refer to one’s worshipful penis?
Online, I came across a blog post by a submissive. She basically likened her actions to focusing all her attention to the pleasure and care of her lover’s penis, expressing a deep need to feel him in her mouth.
Her description was sexy and arousing to me. It had been months since I’d been with the engineer, and so many clients had passed since our fateful evening, but I still craved him in a way I hadn’t craved anyone in a long time. Something about the way he brought out the wet, shivering submissive slut in me was incredible. You’re not supposed to feel connected to your clients, and for the most part work is work, but there was something about him, the fantasy we played out and the way he took control after making me feel so comfortable and open with him… I just couldn’t get over it.
****
RJ showed up 15 minutes earlier than expected. As usual, I had already had a sip or two of my wine. It loosened my inhibitions, but it didn’t make me completely wasted the way other types of alcohol did. Believe me, I would have loved to be wasted, but this client was so demanding and particular that I didn’t want to chance not getting a bonus because I couldn’t be good at worshipping him.
RJ was in his 50s. He looked like one of those overweight dads who spent a good deal of time paying for his wife’s hand in marriage by constantly paying all the bills and spoiling her and the kids. He had a soft, gummy appearance, kind brown eyes and a hairy, rotund belly. I swore he was a perfect PTA dad.
But that’s where the sweet and kind familiarity ended. Like Dean, he seemed to have a cold and nasty side that he needed to explore with me because he wasn’t going to do it at home.
I followed all the particulars of cock worship he asked for and then filled in the extra details. When he arrived, I immediately gulped the rest of my wine down then immediately dropped on my knees. I was already topless, so I cupped my bare breasts in my hand, and held them up at attention, as if in an offering to him. My expression looked adoring and loyal, eyes focused on him.
He closed the door, looked me over in approval, pulled out a thick envelope and showed me the money. He laid it on the table, and then snapped his fingers. I counted to three in my head, and began to crawl to him on all fours. His trousers hugged the curve of his bulge, which grew slightly at the sight of me. When I reached him, he widened his stance and placed his hands on his hips, giving me further access to his privates. I got up on my haunches, and caressed his crotch with my face much the same way a cat leans against its owner’s hand when it wants to be petted.
“I missed you, daddy,” I crooned, kissing his hardening crotch.
He looked down at me and smiled, pulling my face against his package. “Good, because daddy has a lot to give his young, eager slut. If you’re good you’ll get a nice reward for your royal treatment.
RJ wanted me to remove his shoes and pants. For the first five to ten minutes of him sitting down on the bed, he wanted me to lie between his stiff, hairy legs and smell his balls. Inhaling the musky scent, I was to commit the scent to my memory and tell him how amazing his big, round balls were, admiring them and thanking them for all the precious semen they held inside. I was to kiss and praise his balls in their natural scent.
Once this was done, I had to beg “daddy” to touch and please his penis. I was not worthy to simply reach for his penis and grab it, I needed to beg for permission and state my desire and cravings to have his limp, unimpressive dick in my mouth.
Begging for his cock made his dick stir; it swelled as I begged. He was obviously deeply pleased to see a young green-eyed blonde whimpering and groveling to suck him.
For the next several hours, while his wife and kids thought he was at a conference, I was his slave girl and peon whose only purpose was to love, pamper and completely show adoration to his cock. I kissed and licked every inch of his crotch from the taint to the tip of his cock. I spent extra time dipping my tongue in and out his ultra sensitive piss slit and sucking the head of his penis. I also spent time laving his big hairy nuts, kissing then while I begged to taste his sacred seed.
As I did all of this, he laid there, hands behind his head, massive hairy legs spread as far apart as he could stand them, watching and enjoying all of this treatment like the sex god he thought he was. He would leisurely give me commands to suck harder, less harder and to grovel more like I meant it.
He never got completely hard, only semi-hard. Even still, he managed to bust a large, bitter and watery nut in my mouth. He made me swallow it, then made me clean his penis with my mouth, kiss the tip to thank it for my treat and hold it in my mouth for the rest of the evening. When it would get hard, he’d hump my face or swirl his hips to enjoy the juices growing in my mouth.
He never busted another nut that evening, but he sure enjoyed watching sports and fondling my tits while using my mouth like a hot, wet dickwarmer. Whenever he had to go to the bathroom, he would have me hold it for him while he pissed, then shake it and clean it up for him, flush and then reinsert his meat in my mouth.
RJ didn’t arouse me in the least, but the whole scenario was pretty sexy. Again, I have this slightly slutty and submissive side to me. I didn’t really share that I had it with my clients, but I did know that I was able to use it to find enjoyment during these kinds of encounters with them.
By the end of the evening, I had licked, kissed, massaged, caressed, sucked, adored, pampered – did I mention sucked? – and worshipped every region of his cock and balls. I worked my jaw until it hurt, but I earned $5,000 plus an extra $2,500 for being exceptionally enthusiastic, leaving me $7.5 grand richer than I came in.
RJ left the suite to go home, but it had been paid for. I enjoyed it alone while I masturbated about the previous events of the evening, pretending it was the engineer I was serving instead of a horny, hairy, fat old man with repressed dominant sex god energy.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Stacy and Dean, I presume, kept their meetings up for a while. It wasn’t entirely obvious to everyone that
something had been going on. I only noticed because although Stacy seemed to return to her natural, cheery and sexy self, she seemed to be less enthused about helping Dean with his menial tasks.
During a long lunch one afternoon, she filled me in privately on why she had gone missing. Her mother had gotten laid off, and she was sending her parents more money; however, a manager at her bar had pushed up on her. Being young and attractive, she was used to getting hit on. Part of the game for winning as a bartender was having the ability to withstand constant flirtation. Sexual harassment and attempts at coercion were another.
Though she looked older for her age, the truth was Stacy wasn’t of the legal age to work at a bar. She worked her way in, charmed customers and management alike and made money playing the hot and unattainable secretary. After turning down the manager too many times, he let her loose, citing that her age could cause the bar to lose their liquor license. When she begged in the office, mentioning her mom’s layoff, he closed the door, dropped his pants and told her he’d reconsider for a blowjob. She left a position making an extra $2,000 per week because she wasn’t willing to subjugate herself.
Succulence (Succulent Trilogy #1) Page 5