The Escort Trilogy (Books 1-3)

by Ashley Love

  He gave me a snide look, then clutched my hand and pulled me out of the alcove. Down a short hallway we went, beside a large mirror on the wall, to a door that Raul unlocked with his keys. I figured he either owned the place or was in with the manager. I didn't really care about such details.

  Raul shoved me inside, making me gasp and stumble. I looked around quickly, noting a couple of large couches, ottomans, and chairs. The immense window that looked out onto the dance floor outside was the other side of the mirror I had seen. It maintained my exhibitionistic arousal. I could see the hundreds of people outside, could pretend that they saw me.

  "Take it all off," Raul said, leering at me. "Except for the stockings and heels."

  I needed no further encouragement. I was there to be a whore, after all. I pulled off what remained of my dress, letting the cat's head charm on my gold waist chain dance above my pussy. The flimsy dress dangled off my finger before I let it fall to the floor.

  "Bring it on," I challenged.

  Raul stared at me, his lust obvious. He stepped back through the door as I waited. In short order, he returned, holding the door open as several men entered the room. Four, five, six of them...they all looked at me hungrily.

  I wasn't the least bit intimidated or scared. My confidence was borne from the fact that I knew these men wanted me, that they would practically beg to have me. Unashamedly naked before half a dozen men, I settled my hands on my hips and stared them down.

  "Well?" I asked. "Who's first?"

  The guys all exchanged excited and intimidated looks. Raul moved around between us. "You can only fuck her if you have a condom," he said to them.

  Immediately, the men all started fumbling in their jeans and slacks, searching for that elusive package. But one man didn't bother. He was stocky and dark, and unzipped his baggy jeans as he approached me.

  "I saw that little show you put on the floor," he said, extracting his hard cock. "I want some of that. Suck it, slut."

  I grinned and dropped to my knees, tossing my hair back. The stocky man thrust his hips out, jabbing his stiff penis toward my face. I licked my lips, opened my mouth, and swallowed him whole on the first plunge, grinding my chin against his balls.

  "Oh, shit!" he grunted, grabbing hold of my head.

  In short order, men surrounded me. They pulled on my body, getting me up onto all fours atop one of the broad, round ottomans. I kept the stocky man's dick in my drooling mouth as I felt someone pushing into me from behind. I whimpered and moaned, experiencing the thrill of being filled from both ends. The men's rude, crass voice filled the air.

  "Fuck yeah!"

  "Do that bitch!"

  "A cock in her mouth and one up her pussy!"

  "Yeah, you like that, dont'cha, slut!"

  "Do it, dude! Fuck that whore's mouth!"

  Their offensive words fueled, but as to why, I will never really know. I reveled in the role of the slut, the whore, the gangbang girl. The dick pounded in and out of me at both ends. I sucked hard on one, squeezed the other with my pussy. I was a woman possessed, desiring nothing other than crude, raw hedonism.

  It wasn't long before I came, gasping and panting around the thrusting cock in my mouth, drool dripping down my chin, and the men followed soon after. A flood of warm syrup gushed to my tonsils just as I felt the firm throbbing of the dick inside my pussy and the tight grip of hands clutching my ass cheeks. The shuddering moans of the man fucking me told me he was cumming, filling the condom.

  The dick in my mouth pulled out, making semen drip from my lips. I swallowed what I could, licking my lips before another cock took its place, plunging into my hungry mouth. The spent dick in my cunt slipped out, and another pushed in. I moaned, sucking and fucking desperately. My hands were lifted and wrapped around throbbing penises. I stroked and tugged on them, keeping them ready for their turn in my holes. I grunted with each hard shove of the cocks that penetrated my pussy.

  I came again and again, eventually becoming incoherent. The men took turns in my mouth and pussy, fucking me as I was bent over on all fours, then as I was flipped over and laid on my back. Men masturbated over me, and I heard them joking crudely and commenting on my body and eagerness to satisfy them. Semen was splattered all over my face, on my tits, on my swollen vagina.

  At one point, after at least half a dozen men had fucked my increasingly loose pussy, they pulled off their condoms and poured the warm, gritty contents into a martini glass. It was tilted to my lips, and I struggled to gulp it all down as the men—there had to be at least ten or more in the room by then—chanted "Chug! Chug! Chug!" They applauded loudly as I swallowed the last gooey drop.

  I lost track of how many cocks invaded me, how many spurts of cum splashed into my mouth or upon my body. I was aware only of a numbness, a detached feeling, as my body was used, defiled. After a while, I stopped cumming, but the men did not. I was getting tired, and I wanted to stop, but it did not deter them. I didn't need to move other than to work my jaw and hold my legs open. I was a plaything, a toy.

  It was hours before it was all over.

  I lay on one of the couches, tasting the mingled cream of well over a dozen men in my mouth. My pussy throbbed; I was incredibly sore and gaping. I forced open my eyes, looking up at the ceiling, but my vision was blurry. My head was spinning, yet I had not consumed a single drop of alcohol. I realized I was lightheaded from all the sex. Men I didn't know—and never would—had had their way with me. And I had let them, willingly and eagerly.

  Someone was cleaning my body with a warm, wet cloth, starting at my face and working down. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the sensation, the only moment of tenderness I had felt the entire night. When the gentle warmth slipped between my legs, I spread my thighs wide. I murmured with pleasure, even though my swollen pussy ached from all the relentless pounding.

  I felt something soft, yet firm, press against my swollen labia, and I realized it was a mouth. But not a man's mouth. This was tender and sweet, and knew just where to lick and suck. I lifted my head a moment, glancing down. All I saw was a head of long blonde hair between my thighs. I heard the unknown woman's muffled moans and sighs as she lapped at me.

  And then a shadow passed over my face, a man's slender but muscular thigh. A hard dick hovered before my face for a moment before easing past my lips. I sucked it automatically, even though my jaw was tired. I watched the man's hips move back and forth as he fucked my mouth, tasting the sweet oozing oil on my tongue.

  The woman's mouth left my pussy, and the man pulled back from my face. I looked up, smacking my lips, and saw Raul smiling down at me. He moved down my body, his dick slick and wet and poised to enter my swollen tunnel.

  "I'm going to fuck you now," he said.

  "Mmmmm..." was all I could respond.

  I felt him push his dick inside me, which made me wince at yet another penetration. He started moving faster and faster, and I could just see the blonde-haired woman on her knees behind him, watching as he pumped his slick shaft in and out of me. It was only then that I realized he was fucking me with his naked cock.

  It was too late to protest now, and honestly, I didn't want to. I clutched Raul's hard body and met his every thrust eagerly. My pussy was inflamed from all the dick it had known already that night, yet still, I wanted to make Raul cum. I wanted to feel it inside me. I needed that one last indignity.

  He finally tensed and grunted, then sighed loudly with his release. The hot flow of his cum filled my aching pussy, and I moaned with one last, soft, rolling orgasm as well, squeezing his gushing cock. I felt like a fire was being put out inside me, the flames of my reckless passion doused by the seed of this stranger.

  Raul slipped his dripping, cum-smeared dick from my snatch and moved back up over me, easing his pole down into my mouth. I eagerly sucked and licked him clean, tasting our mingled essence. I moaned around his dick as I felt the woman's mouth once again on my pussy, licking out Raul's cum. The feeling was de
licious. She spread my lips wide apart and lapped as far into my hole as her tongue would reach. She smacked her lips and moaned, devouring his cum and mine mingled together.

  Raul finally pulled out of my mouth and leaned over to kiss my sticky lips. "What a good little whore you are," he whispered in my ear. I could only murmur in response.

  After several minutes, I sat up on the couch, looking around. The air in the room was thick and cloying with the aroma of spent semen, and stains soaked into the floor and ottoman. But no other trace of the men remained. I saw an open door to a small bathroom, and stumbled on wobbly legs toward it. My vagina was tender and red from all the abuse it had suffered. I realized I would have to wait a few days before taking another client.

  I looked briefly at my face in the mirror. Most of my makeup was gone. My eyes were puffy, but the mascara had not run. A few dried semen of sperm decorated the bridge of my nose and forehead. My lips felt tender and numb. Strands of my long blonde hair were sticky and dark with sperm. Every breath I expelled from between my lips carried with it the aroma of cum.

  I washed up quickly, returned to the room and retrieved my dress and purse. I called Logan, and he told me he knew the club pretty well and how I could leave without being noticed. I met him in a dank, poorly-lit alley behind the building a few minutes later, standing on shaky legs. I collapsed in the back of the Lincoln, every muscle below my waist aching.

  I cried softly for a while, berating myself for what I had done. But I felt strangely cleansed, despite the stench of cum that surrounded me. In a way, I felt, I had exorcised my demons.

  But, damn was I exhausted. How many men, Allie? I asked myself. How many cocks did you fuck and suck tonight?

  I licked my lips, feeling them dry. My mouth was pasty with the residue of so many different flavors of semen. I had heartburn from all the fluid that had graced my throat.

  "We're home, Miss Yvette," Logan said to me, looking at me in the rearview mirror.

  I didn't budge. I couldn't. My strength had fled.

  Logan put the Lincoln in park, got out. He opened the rear door, reached inside. I wondered if he was disgusted by the smell that surrounded my body. If he was, he didn't show it. He lifted me effortlessly, and I curled up in his arms, hanging onto him. I really didn't know this man, but he was my protector, my guardian. I knew I could trust him.

  He carried me up the flights of stairs to my apartment door, and I managed to find the wit to unlock it with my key. Once inside, Logan set me down on my couch and began pulling off my clothes. I wondered for a moment if he intended to fuck me, but he disappeared into my bedroom and came back with a blanket from my bed. He wrapped my body snugly, then started a pot of coffee in the kitchen.

  With effort, I sat up, holding the blanket around my body. "Why do you do it?" I asked him.

  Logan turned to me, looking over the little breakfast bar of my apartment. "I might ask you the same question," he said.

  I lowered my eyes, feeling ashamed. "Does it...does it ever bother you?"

  I heard him sigh, and he came around toward me. Without the chauffeur's hat to cast shadows over his face, I realized he was actually very handsome, and did not appear as old as I had always believed. He had a square jaw and small eyes, a slightly crooked nose. There was an element of strength to him.

  "Honestly," he said. "Only on nights like this."

  I felt the tears forming again. "I don't know why I did it," I said, trying to control my voice. "I-I just felt that—"

  "Yvette," he said, then stepped closer. He lowered himself before me. "Allie."

  I blinked, staring at him. "You know my name?"

  He nodded. "I know just about everything about you," he said matter-of-factly. "What I don't know is why a beautiful girl such as you would allow herself to be abused the way you were tonight."

  I sniffled. "I deserved it," I whispered.

  His strong eyes searched mine. "Maybe," he said. "But I'll tell you right now: if you keep doing things like this, you're going to have a different driver."

  He stood and headed back into the kitchen. I followed him with my eyes, watched as he poured a cup of coffee. The aroma of java beans filled my apartment. He brought the cup to me, having already added cream and sugar the way I liked it.

  I couldn't help but smile. "How do you know so much about me?" I asked.

  Logan' eyes were stoic. "It's my job to know," he said. He stood, turned to the door, then paused. "Oh. Here." He took out another crimson envelope, dropped it on the coffee table. It was thicker and heavier than any of the others he had given me before.

  I stared at it for a long moment, then lifted my head as my driver, my protector, my guardian, opened the door. "Logan."

  He hesitated a moment, not looking at me.

  "I don't want another driver."

  He didn't speak, but I thought I detected a slight curl at the corner of his mouth. He just nodded curtly, and left.

  I sipped my coffee, found the remote for the TV and switched it on. Four in the morning, there wasn't much on except infomercials. I really didn't want to watch anything; I just wanted the reassurance that I wasn't alone in the world.

  I finally reached for the red envelope. On every occasion I had opened one I had found ten one hundred dollar bills inside. I breathed in as, this time, I counted ten, then twenty, then thirty, then forty...

  I stopped counting, slapping the envelope down in my lap. The amount of money I had received for my first gangbang was ridiculous. Rather than feel rewarded, I felt even more cheapened, and ashamed. It was my last humiliation.

  Never again, Allie, I told myself. You've paid your penance. Never again.

  7

  I was still a little sore the following morning after the gangbang. There were faint bruises on my inner thighs and knees, and my hips hurt from being spread open for so long. But the discomfort would fade, I knew. As I hoped my heartache over Sean would.

  Mya came over that afternoon, bringing sweet and sour chicken and Diet Coke. I hugged her at the door, thanking her for her friendship. We sat on the floor and ate in silence for a while. I could sense that she had something on her mind. But I waited for her to bring it up.

  "You went out last night," she said, giving me a skittish look.

  I picked at my fried rice. "Yeah."

  "Was it...was it like that?" she asked awkwardly.

  I knew what she meant. My eyes flashed to hers, so big and round and sweet. I remembered when I felt as innocent as she looked. "Yeah. It was like that."

  She sighed. I could tell she was disappointed. "Why?" she asked.

  I shrugged. "It's my job," I said.

  Her hands fell to her lap and she gave me a look that seemed to say, 'Don't give me that shit.'

  I wiped my mouth. "You wanna know the truth?"

  Her eyes were unwavering. "Yeah. I wanna know the truth."

  I breathed in, gathering my courage. I didn't look at her as I spoke. "I didn't know what sex really was for the longest time," I said. "I mean, everyone knows what it is, but...see, I always had this idea, this image of sex as...something special, something unique, to be shared between two people who really love each other."

  Mya stared at me. "It can be that way," she said.

  I nodded. "I know. And it's been that way for me...a few times."

  Mya didn't say anything, waiting for me to continue. I put down my chopsticks and reached for my cigarettes. I lit one, breathing out smoke. I wondered why I was so nervous. Maybe it was because I had never really thought about the journey I had begun until that moment.

  "But I found out, pretty quickly," I continued, pulling on my cigarette. "Sex can be something else. It can be a tool. And that's not necessarily a bad thing."

  "I don't think that way," Mya said.

  I cocked my head. "You sure?"

  She frowned. "I'm not like you," she said emphatically.

  I scoffed, defensive. "Every woman is
like me, at least once in a while."

  Mya ground her teeth. Now she was uncomfortable, looking down. She poked at her stir fry as she listened.

  "When I'm with a man, he knows what he's going to get," I said. "I don't have to be coy, or pretend to play hard to get. He's going to get laid, and he knows it."

  "Because that's what he's paying for," Mya said accusingly.

  "And when you go out with a guy, it's different?"

  Mya glared. "I'm not a whore," she said bitingly.

  I laughed darkly, feeling a righteous need to justify myself. "So what do you call yourself after a guy has paid for dinner and a movie, brought you roses, maybe scored some beer at the corner store? When you're flat on your back, and he's inside you, and you're screaming your lungs out 'cause it feels so fucking good—"

  "You don't get it," said Mya, her brown eyes vibrating with a mixture of emotions. She was hurt and angry, and I couldn't blame her. "It's different, Allie. I don't go out with a guy because I'm going to sleep with him. I do it only if I want to." She pushed herself to her feet and stared down at me. "Have you ever been with a guy who didn't pay you to fuck him?" she asked rudely.

  I couldn't answer.

  Mya snorted derisively. "I thought so. You know, one of these days, you're gonna take a look in the mirror and not like what you see." She headed to the door, paused a moment, still glaring at me. Then she jerked open the door and slammed it shut behind her as she left. I listened to her footfalls as they retreated rapidly down the stairs.

  I suddenly felt like throwing up.

  I was worried about having had unprotected sex with Raul. Cleo had told me that under no circumstances was I to ever 'ride bareback' when with a client. If she ever found out I had had unprotected sex, I would be dropped immediately. Naturally, therefore, I didn't tell her.

  I headed to the drug store, bought one of those mail-in kits that guaranteed results within seventy-two hours. I took the test, sent it in. The following few days were nerve-wracking. I hated to even consider the possibility that I might have contracted HIV.