by Lexi Duval
I stay quiet, and let him speak, walking side by side with him through the warm sunshine as we reach the park, filled with joggers and dog walkers and sunbathers enjoying the final moments of evening light.
“The reason it was me in the the show room tonight is simply because I find you irresistible.”
His words catch me off guard.
“Me? Really?”
“Perhaps you don't realize it, Ashley, but you're not only a stunning young woman but you're a sensational fuck. I watched you the other day and, well, I needed to experience you for myself. I don't want to speak too loudly about this in public, but I've never tasted anyone quite so delicious as you.”
I've had these sorts of compliments before, usually from guys just telling me I'm the best fuck they've ever had. They never tell me it in quite such terms as Gray is going now, though. It's enough to make me blush a little and duck my head out of embarrassment.
“I wanted to experience you just as you were the other night. You needed to think that it was still a public show, that there was an audience on the other side of the glass walls. It was all about repeating the same conditions so I could see just how you'd perform with me first hand.”
“And, did I live up to your expectations?” I ask, growing in confidence.
His smile and intense intake of breath tell me all I need to know. But he tells me anyway.
“You were spectacular. Like I've told you, I've never had better.”
“Neither have I,” I say quickly.
“Really?”
He seems surprised, perhaps thinking that I've done this a hundred times with plenty of other guys.
“Yes.”
Our eyes meet in a moment of attraction and something inside me sparks. I only wish I could have slept with him in private now, with the knowledge that we were alone, and without the mask covering his beautiful eyes.
We keep walking through the beautiful park, the sun starting to set, the world growing dimmer and more magical with each minute that passes. Yet, strangely, there's no awkwardness between us. Not the sort you'd expect in such circumstances.
I feel natural with him, comfortable and confident beyond all expectations.
Soon we reach a bench, and he sits me down.
“Now, Ashley, are you going to keep performing?”
His eyes seem conflicted. I'm not quite sure what he wants me to say.
“Yes, as long as Randall wants me to.”
I give him my honest answer, seeing no reason to stop.
“And, tell me, why are you doing this. I understand you've never done anything like this before. That you had some trouble at work and agreed to this fairly easily.”
“I guess so,” I say, feeling incredibly slutty. He's right, I did agree to fuck in public very easily. I suppose that says a lot about me. “How do you know about the work thing though?”
“Randall is generous with the information if we request it. Some of the men don't like to know anything about the girl's past. Personally, I do. I like to know who I'm watching, why they're there doing what they're doing. You struck a particular chord with me.”
“Well, yeah, I suppose I needed the money...I have a silly dream.”
“What dream?” he asks quickly, without any feigned interest.
“I was working in fashion before, on the media side. But I've always wanted to design, to have my own studio, my own label. All of this is going to help make that happen.”
Once more I see the conflict in his eyes. Something tells me he'd rather I didn't perform again, that he's got a possessive quality that, now he's had me, makes him not want anyone else to as well.
But his words don't match the look on his face.
“Then you need to keep performing,” he says. “We should all do whatever it takes to reach our dreams. One day, I'll hope to see your name on a clothing label.”
“Thanks, Gray.”
“Don't mention it. Now, I have business I need to attend to. If you'll excuse me.”
He stands, takes my hand, and kisses it tenderly again.
Before disappearing into the haze of the setting sun.
Chapter Four
I spend much of the next few weeks on my back.
With a dick inside me.
Or a bunch of fingers and a tongue.
According to Randall, the clients are thoroughly enjoying me, and I've become the latest favorite among the girls in the show room. And with that tag comes more opportunity to make money, with both my base rate and tips starting to climb.
It also, however, comes with some pressures.
It doesn't take long before everything starts to take its toll. I work several nights per week, turning up as always, getting prepared, stepping out to see a new guy, face half covered in a mask, waiting to pleasure me for the satisfaction of the elite crowd beyond the walls.
I get through several men, and repeat my original performance with Brett on one occasion. However, as good as he and the others are, it's never enough for me, not anymore. Not after having Gray, seeing his face, even bonding with him a little bit in the park.
Somehow, the entire thing begins to feel empty and hollow, and I start to perform on autopilot, my genuine pleasure fading and my need for faking my orgasms growing.
They're all good fucks, of course, but there's something missing, and every time I walk through that door I begin to hope that it's going to be Gray waiting on the other side.
But it never is. I can tell immediately, from the shape of their bodies, the nuances of their anatomy, the size and taste of their dick, that it's not the man I've started to yearn for. That it's just another guy, getting paid for this, nothing but a high price porn star like me.
Because, really, that's all I've become.
About two weeks after my experience with Gray, however, I manage to find a new apartment. My parents – well, my mother, in particular – seem sad to see me go. My father, still wrapped up in his latest case, probably won't even notice.
“I'll only be across the river, mom,” I tell my mother, assuring her that I'll be close enough to visit all the time, unlike when I lived in LA.
I lie, of course, to cover my tracks, telling her that I'm starting a new job and that I've got enough money to put down a deposit on an apartment. Being a mother, whose only real interest in life is making sure that me and my father are happy, she offers to pay the deposit for me, but I tell her I really don't need the help.
Of course, I've got the fifty grand now sitting in my bank account, almost completely untouched, and plenty more just waiting to add to the pile from my latest performances.
A quick calculation in my head and I realize that I'll be a millionairess within a few months at this rate. The thought makes my head spin and, still, none of it seems to have sunk in.
Yet, in the show room, I have begun to lose interest, and outside of it I've started to plot my escape. I look for studios, start stockpiling materials, and begin working on my designs.
With my days consumed by my creative mind, I hardly have time to feel nervous anymore when I step inside the show room and start chowing down on a dick. It all becomes second nature, almost mundane, just another job for me to get done.
It's only a few weeks after I start that the requests start coming in. Each time I go into the room for any performance, the layout is slightly different. Different color schemes on the bed, different scent in the air, different lighting above and different music playing.
Yet still, those differences are subtle, and none of them alter the sex in any way.
Gradually, however, my growing popularity among the clients changes all of that. I know that on one night when Randall asks me if I'm OK with a bit of BDSM. Having been tied up by a boyfriend before, I say yes, thinking nothing of it.
When I'm dressed in leather lingerie and given a whip to walk into the show room with, however, I know that this is another level. And when I go inside and see the various implements set up on the bed and the walls, I
realize quickly that I'm going to be out of my depth.
I'm tied, gagged, and fucked so hard it hurts that night. I get my revenge with my own flagellation, whipping the guy until he yelps in pain and marking his skin red. But the entire night makes me think that enough might be enough. The stranger elements of the sex world perhaps not for me.
When the next request comes in, asking me if I'll do anal, I answer Randall with a firm 'no'.
“Good,” he tells me. “You're better when you stick to conventional sex, my dear. Let the others ruin their assholes!”
But still, turning down a request appears to be bad form, and whichever group of clients was interested in such a show turn embittered. Consequently, my tips begin to fall, and my ratings flatline to the point where I lose my status at the top of the tree and fall behind several other girls who are clearly not so worried about keeping their anal virtue intact.
Most likely, they lost their virginity in that orifice a long time ago.
Yet still, I find the entire thing more of a blessing than a disappointment, and figure that I've already got enough money to have me set up for a very long time. In my head, I'm already considering the option of getting out as soon possible before I lose myself completely.
It's over five weeks since I started when Randall comes to me with another special request. This time, it involves a threesome.
“Which type?” I ask quickly, knowing that I'll struggle to handle two guys at once and certainly wouldn't agree to any double penetration.
Randall, however, puts me at ease.
“One of the other girls and a guy. How do you feel about being with another girl?”
I shrug my shoulders, thinking it's better than the other requests I've had, and agree to do it.
That night, I spend half my time indulging in lesbian antics that I'd never have expected to enjoy, but rather do. The sound of the gorgeous red head moaning as I lick her out helps to send my own libido into overdrive. Feeling the thrust of a dick, penetrating me from behind, only heightens the entire experience.
She's delicate to the touch, better than most guys at eating my pussy, her fingers delicate as they probe inside me. I suck cock and have my cunt devoured at the same time, doubling my pleasure. And when I walk out of the room that night, my lips still tingling from the softness of the red head's skin and tongue, I wonder if I'm not part lesbian myself.
And then the strong pang of desire for Gray hits me again, and I realize that, no, I'm only fully interested in the male form. The girls pussy, her tits, her soft flesh and skin was nothing more than an experience that caught me up in the moment. But it's not one I'd revisit on a regular basis.
Gray, though?
I'd revisit him anywhere, anytime.
Chapter Five
“Tonight is orgy night.”
Randall is standing beside me in my dressing room, filling me in on what I'm expected to do for the evening.
“There will be ten of you. Five guys, five girls. You've been with all of the guys before, so there won't be anything unexpected. The girls will be new, all expect Britney from the other night, the red head. She'll be there with you.”
“OK...”
“This is a clean orgy, as we term it. In other words, the sex with be regular and conventional. So no BDSM elements, no anal, nothing beyond regular sexual activity that you've performed so well at in the last few weeks.”
I'm only half listening now. Orgy, regular sex, ten people, got it.
In my head, however, I'm thinking that this might just be my last night here. I have enough money to start up my label and have a go at it, with plenty left in case things go wrong. And, if so, I'll be more than happy to return to regular employment after this.
It's my soul, more than anything, that's slowly being ground into the dust. At first it was fine, and I even enjoyed it. It was all new, so new and exciting that I never truly got what it was doing to my insides.
Now, though, it's starting to take its toll.
I'm a porn star. I fuck for money in front of people. Nothing but a sex doll on show.
It's not the way I want to live my life, and the longer I do it, the worse it will get. Now is the time to escape and to cut myself free for good.
Randall leaves me there, with my thoughts and nothing else, as he goes and checks on the other girls. When the order comes through the speaker in my room to make my way to the show room, I step out and see other girls doing the same.
They're all stunning, curvy, perfect, and dressed like me in nothing but lacy panties and bra. We all have different colors – red, black, white, blue, and yellow – with my own lingerie the standard, innocent white.
We share smiles as we walk together down the corridor, but don't speak. Britney, the red head who's pussy made me briefly question my own sexual orientation, comes toward me and lightly runs her fingers over my ass.
“I'll look forward to eating you again tonight sexy,” she says in a husky voice that I wouldn't have expected from someone who looks as pristine as she does.
I don't answer, but know that if there's one girl I'm going to be with tonight, it will be her.
We step into the room, each of us smiling wide and gracefully pacing in toward the five men standing in their underwear, all lean and toned and tanned. In the room are several beds and sofas, with cushions on the floor and various sexual toys lying around.
It's a sex paradise, and I can almost feel the erotic energy pulsing out of everyone, ready to get tangled into a web of arms and legs and dicks and cunts.
For a moment we all stand, face to face, as if waiting for a start gun to explode. And then, suddenly, without warning, one of the guys steps forward toward a girl on the right.
At the other end of the line of girls, I quickly scan the menu of men, each of whom I've fucked but none of whom I know at all as people. It's a strange sensation, and I wonder who's going to make a beeline for me first.
And then I see him.
He's taller than the others. More muscular, more manly. His jaw extends below his mask, square and strong and wearing a smile. He comes toward me, marching straight past another guy, brushing him aside until his hands are snaking up my body.
“Ashley,” whispers the voice of Gray, quiet enough for only me to hear. “You'll only be with me tonight.”
I feel a huge surge rush through me, a mixture of desire and relief. He's the one I want, the one I've been pining for, hoping to see each time I step inside the show room.
And now, surrounded by bodies quickly being stripped of their final garments, he's here, his hands snaking behind my back and removing my bra, his lips sliding down my chest and settling on my nipples.
And then, for the first time since I've been here, he kisses me, our lips matching each other's for their passion, rolling over each other in perfect unison.
The room starts to rotate, and he leads me toward a sofa in the corner, the corners of his mouth climbing into a grin of pleasure. He sits down, and I straddle him, and I forget that there are other people fucking behind me. I forget that there are men outside the glass walls, watching us all as we get lost in a cloud of lascivious lust.
All I can think of is him, and me. It's just us, alone, and no one else.
His lips run all over my chest, and my hands ruffle through his hair, his fingers digging beneath my panties and rubbing the folds of my pussy. Underneath me, his cock swells, so strong it almost lifts me off his lap as it grows with a need to be satisfied.
I look up, and in the spinning, reflective wall I see the other four couples behind us, lips around cocks, tongues in pussies. They're all engaged in the throes of foreplay, but I don't care about that, or the schedule we're meant to keep in front of everyone.
This is going to be my last night here, and I'm going to make it count.
So I reach down quickly, and release his cock from its prison. And without even taking off my panties, I pull them to one side and lets his dick slide inside me, my hole hardly wet enou
gh to accept him.
He penetrates me a few inches, and I quickly moisten, the dew of my cunt churning as he slides right up inside me and I gasp with pleasure. I ride him hard, jumping up and down, already going straight for the finish line as the others warm up in the mirror.
Clearly, Gray doesn't care either. Why should a guy like he?
He pumps me hard, lifting my petite frame right up off his dick and slamming me back down again over and over until I'm already coming and digging my teeth into his shoulder to stop from shrieking too loud and shattering the glass.
I look up as another girl comes over toward our sofa, drawn by our passion, and begins rubbing her hands over Gray's chest, and mine. The extra touch adds to the pleasure, and I see that it's Britney, her red hair shining under the lights, her perfect tits hanging beautifully below her long neck.
Then a guy joins in, swinging his dick our way, standing to the side of me and thrusting it toward my mouth. I see Gray's jaw clench tight as I lift my hand to take the dick, ready to suck...
I'm lifted up, straight off the ground as Gray stands, his dick still inside me. He pulls out, but keeps me in his arms as he storms toward the door and drags me out into the corridor, leaving everyone else stunned.
“What's going on?!” I say as he rushes down the corridor toward the nearest room. He opens the door without knocking or checking if it's occupied, which it is.
“Get out!” he shouts at two make up girls gossiping in the corner.
They look at our naked forms, their eyes lingering for a few moments on Gray's dick, before scuttling away.
Now Gray's lifting me onto the counter by the large mirror, and thrusting his cock back inside me. I pull off his mask and see the fury of lust and possession in his eyes. It seems I was right about that quality. He wants me all to himself.
“Why did you do that?” I ask, my voice jumping as he pummels into me.
“Because I want to fuck you alone,” he growls, thrusting with an frantic intensity as his lips kiss mine and we fall into a fit of passion that no one could break.