Escort Unleashed (Emma Book 2) Page 15

  Sarah smiles and nods. “Thanks for being cool about everything,” she says, looking a little moist around the eyes. “I feel like my luck’s turning, thanks to you. Once the bank balance is sorted I can quickly get my own place – for work purposes at least!”

  I’m glad she adds that last bit. My heart skipped a beat when I thought she was suggesting moving out. For all my antics and all my group sex activities, Sarah has become someone I can’t live without. I’m probably cool with her working out of the flat next door in the longer term, if she’s going to pursue selling her services via the internet, but I like going to sleep in her arms too much to want to give that up.

  There’s quite the pile of work waiting for me after my few days off. Lucy has been filling up my schedule, and I’m booked in with two clients a day for my first four days back. Coupled with my grooming appointments and medical check-ups, I feel positively rushed off my feet.

  “Boo hoo,” jokes Sarah when I make mention of the state of my diary. “Only got four hours for lunch now, have we?”

  Alyssia guffaws, and I know they’re right. You get spoilt pretty quickly in this life. On average it’s usually less than four hours across and entire day and evening that I’m busy. I mustn’t forget how good I’ve got it.

  Whatever happens, I keep reminding myself, I must not cock things up or cross Lucy. She continues to be constantly on the lookout for my wellbeing. I’m willing to go with the little plan we’ve cooked up for Spurring, even if I got too distracted to put phase one into action last time around. But part of me thinks I might just end up coming clean with Lucy rather than really going through with the whole thing. We will see when the time comes. Anyway, I need to have another go at winning his confidence before anything too devious can happen.

  The sexual adventures come thick, hot and fast. There’s my regular night with Charles, who informs me that he’s signed me up for that sushi-making course. I had forgotten all about it, but clearly not him. Despite my protests, he’s paying for it. He tells me to consider it an early birthday present. It’s a couple of weeks until I turn twenty-seven, and he asks if I mind him booking me that night.

  I say yes straight away, since I know he’s going to make the night as special and romantic for me as any boyfriend ever did. Or ever could. And I can’t help thinking I’ll get some obscene tip attached to my fees. He knows I won’t take his cash any more. I love him to bits.

  Though he’s not into anything extreme, he’s got a subtle imagination. This week he stands me on a little pedestal in front of the full-length mirror in his bathroom. I’m in a short skirt, and soon I can feel the clawing touch of the air beneath it as he stands behind me and pulls my panties down over the shiny black heels he sent me earlier in the day.

  He instructs me to part my legs, which I cautiously do, wary of my balance on the stunning new Prada shoes. I needn’t worry: he crooks a strong arm around my waist and steadies me as he unzips and slips into me with a hot breath that speaks of his need.

  It’s amazing watching us, fully clothed, rutting in this unusual position. It should be awkward, but he’s prepared everything so that it’s not. He keeps his – and our – balance and timing so well that I can throw my arm around his neck behind me and he can caress my blouse-shrouded breasts with his spare hand. I close my eyes, glance in the mirror, and then do it all over again. And I come before he does.

  Lucy also sends me on my first ‘top’ assignment. Instead of me getting some kind of punishment, it’s an introduction into the huge and lucrative world of dishing it out. I haven’t ventured into that scene since the day I lost the plot with Petra and Rupert, but everyone seems convinced that was some kind of virtuoso display that betrayed a natural aptitude.

  I’m not quite so sure of that as I approach the entrance to some prime real estate on Knightsbridge. My heart is beating a little faster than it would for most assignments. I’ve been told that this is a fairly straightforward ‘spank and tickle’ assignment and that I should breeze through it. As you might expect, the details are mostly down to my creativity: it’s up to me to control things and give him an entertaining ninety minutes. All that’s certain is that I should end off by riding him and applying a gentle choking hand around his throat.

  Jesus, I don’t want to get that last part wrong.

  I am shown in by an expressionless butler and waved into a small reception room next to the front door. “You are to change here and then move through into the next room, Madame.”

  I nod and wait for him to leave. As I’d been warned it would be, my outfit is laid out on the coffee table, alongside a riding crop, a paddle, a belt and something that resembles a feather duster. This room has a couple of armchairs, a few books and a coat railing. It feels like a misguided sort of cloakroom, into which someone might walk at any moment. Getting changed in here seems odd, but after the bizarre scenes I’ve lived through in last few weeks I barely give it a thought and quickly strip down.

  Soon I’m clad in a tight leather corset, black PVC skirt and long black boots that do up with a series of metal buckles from behind. I apply some of the dark makeup that’s been left for me, using the mirror behind the door. For the first time in my life, I am wearing black lipstick. I’m quite pleased with my transformation. I don’t bother with underwear.

  I open the door, look cautiously around it, and let myself into a room that’s only slightly bigger than the one I’m leaving. This is central London, after all, and even men who can afford seven hundred and fifty an hour for me don’t get much space for their money. There’s room enough for a desk, however, and lying on that desk is a man who is clearly expecting me.

  As I shut the door behind me, I take in the fact that he’s bent over the desk and facing away from the door. He’s not young: the top of his head is shiny and bald, and the neat, combed hair around the sides is distinctly grey. He wears a tweed blazer that should probably have been consigned to history a few decades ago, and below that, shorts and long socks. Shiny black shoes complete the picture.

  Oh. I see. He’s…he wants to be a schoolboy again. Fuck me, that’s twisted! I glance at the many books around the room, and the piles of yellowing paper on the computer-free desk, and guess that he must be some kind of academic. Probably a smart man, one who loves books and the English education system. One who needs a little guidance in these modern times.

  He’s saying nothing, and I sense this is where my creative part starts. I sink straight into my role, finding it surprisingly easy. “Young Master Doncaster, I understand that you’ve been sent to the head mistress’s office. I’m pleased that you’ve at least managed to be on time and to assume the correct position. I wouldn’t want to have to add to your punishment.”

  He looks around at me with wide eyes and a gaping mouth, then closes them and licks his lips after he drinks me in. “Yes, head mistress. Thank you, head mistress,” he whimpers softly.

  I smile to myself and pull the belt slowly between my fingers. All of a sudden, I think this is going to be really easy.

  “Where are you ticklish, young man?” I bark. I’m back in that room with Petra and Rupert now. “And don’t lie to me, or I will double your punishment.”

  He pants heavily as he answers. “My…my…I mean…under my arms and…my stomach…and…”

  He pauses.

  I tap my foot.

  “And what?” I hiss.

  He answers in barely a whisper. “And my penis, head mistress.”

  “Very well, Master Doncaster,” I tell him, picking up the feather duster thing. “Then we’ll begin.”

  The ninety minutes fly by, and as usual I get so carried away that I go a little overtime.

  That isn’t the only new experience Lucy signs me up for in this amazing week. She also has me servicing a couple for the first time. It never crossed my mind I’d ever be doing that. Even after several weeks in the game, I’m still a little naïve at times.

  “People do that?” I ask incredulously. “Married
couples?”

  “Of course, Emma!” Lucy laughs down the phone line. “Gosh, I’ve got several couples on my books, all looking to spice things up. Obviously this is an exception to my ‘no married clients’ rule. If they’re both in it together, then nothing pleases me more than supplying one of my charming ladies.

  “Most often it’s the woman wanting to explore another woman while the husband watches, or even a full-on threesome. Occasionally the wife likes the idea of watching her husband fuck another woman: although you need to be very aware on those assignments. Sometimes it turns out they’re more jealous than they expect to be.”

  This particular night, though, has an extra twist. It seems Lucy considers very few tasks beyond me, even with so much new stuff going on. This, apparently, is a couple who’ve done this many times, although they almost never take the same girl twice. The wife wants a female ‘pet’ for the evening. I will be her plaything, kept on a leash at all times. The husband will mostly watch, but sometimes the wife will let him do things to her pet.

  The thought of this particular night out floods my lady parts instantly. Christ, the possibilities!

  The call-out itself, in a large apartment not far from my own, certainly doesn’t disappoint. The door opens even before I get the chance to ring the bell, and an attractive, blue-eyed blonde in her forties, wearing a figure-hugging red dress, appears. She looks me up and down for a moment, then grabs my elbow and pulls me inside without a word. She hauls me into their living room, where her sophisticated-looking husband sits impassively in a large armchair. He has tanned skin and curly, charcoal hair. His fingers, one of which sports a prominent wedding band, are steepled in front of him as he watches the developing scene with interest.

  The woman – she’s really gorgeous – silently takes my handbag off my shoulder and tucks it behind the sofa. She turns me to face her husband, and presses up behind my back, placing one hand on my hip. I can’t help breathing in sharply as she whispers in my ear, just loud enough for him to hear.

  “My pet…my pet. Don’t speak, just do as you’re told. It’s time to collar you.”

  Holy fuck, I’m wet.

  She strips me, button by button and zip by zip, while her husband looks on. Every so often she stops to smell my hair or breathe hotly on a part of my body. In no time I am naked, my knees are weak and I’m trembling with desire.

  “Look at my pet, baby,” she says to her man. I’m not sure if I should look at him too. I focus on the middle distance. “Look how perfect she is! Thank you for her.”

  “It is my pleasure to watch you enjoy her,” he says in a well-rehearsed tone. “Collar her and take her in every way.”

  Wow, there’s some serious power dynamics going on here, I think to myself as I feel leather tightening around my throat. So he’s the big boss, but he wants to watch her dominate me. And she really, really wants to do that. I’m serving him, through her. Alpha, Beta, Gamma.

  Cold metal slithers down my back now. That must be the chain. Holy mother of God, I’m horny now. “Get on your hands and knees, pet,” she says in an even tone that doesn’t sound like it should be messed with. “We’re going for a little walk.”

  I’ll do anything she tells me, and I suspect I’d do it even if I weren’t getting paid. She walks me around the apartment, where she has left treasures all over the floor. Treasures like dildos, posters of unbelievably ripped men, and bottles of scented lubricant. She makes me lick them and kiss them with my mouth, but she won’t let me touch them.

  If she’s trying to get me sexually wound up, it’s working.

  Finally she leads me to her husband, still sitting on the armchair like a king sits on a throne. He’s fully-dressed, but he parts his knees as I crawl towards him with the chain tugging at my throat.

  “Have a sniff, have a lick, pet,” purrs the blonde. “As always, don’t touch.”

  I breathe in the scent of expensive tailoring and shoe polish as I follow her instructions, almost fainting with sexual intoxication. My mouth can just about reach his crotch, where I smell raw desire and nuzzle against the bulge in his trousers. Then I turn my neck and look up questioningly at her.

  “Very good, pet,” she says approvingly. “Have a treat.”

  She holds out a strawberry in her hand. I take it in my teeth and swallow. My heart keeps on beating faster now. She leads me over to the fireplace and ties one end of the lead to a metal ring on the mantelpiece. I am still on my hands and knees as she moves around behind me.

  “Reach behind you and spread your cheeks,” she instructs.

  I do exactly as I’m asked. I know there’s a good chance cream will be dripping from me already. I am glad for their sake that this is a marble floor.

  “Oh, there’s a cream factory in there, baby!” she says to her husband. “She’s so wet! My horny little pet!”

  I groan quietly at her oh-so-true words, and my back arches in frustration.

  “Face the window,” she says quietly.

  That means I have to turn so that my ass faces her husband. And as I do so, I can hear her moving towards him. “Drink from the bowl if you are thirsty, pet. No hands.”

  God, they really have left a bowl of water for me. Fuck, and now that she mentions it, I really am quite parched. The heating is up in here, and I’ve been crawling around on all fours for a while now. I lean forward and lap up the liquid as best I can. The submissive feeling I get is out of this world.

  I hear rustling behind me, and then things go quiet. I am sure nobody has left the room. What’s going on? Are they reading? I think they might be, because all I can hear is what sounds like the occasional page turning. It’s pure torture, this. I have no idea what’s going on behind me. This goes on for something like forty minutes.

  Then I start to hear movement. Groans and movement, to be precise. Unmistakeable heavy breathing and groans. “Turn around, pet,” she orders.

  Oh, they will drive me insane! She’s on her husband’s lap in the armchair, bent back over his chest while his arm comes around and reaches beneath her skirt. From the noises she’s making, I don’t have to think too long about where his fingers might be.

  They’re driving me crazy, and they know it.

  She orgasms loudly, though whether it’s real or for my benefit I’m not sure. “Did you enjoy that, pet?” she asks with a mean grin.

  I nod. But I want more, and she knows it. I begin to pant, and let my tongue hang out like a dog’s.

  “I think she should get a treat again, baby,” she says to her husband. He nods, and the woman in red walks over to me. “Kneel.”

  I do as she tells me.

  “Now taste my pussy, pet. Taste it.”

  She pulls up her skirt and stands directly above my face. It tastes like absolute fucking honey.

  After that, she uses and abuses me in every way imaginable. She fucks me with a strap-on, missionary-style, while I lie on my back and hold my knees in the air. It’s kinky as fuck and hotter than hell to have a woman on top of me, breast to breast, while feeling a sensation that’s exactly like a man’s thrusting.

  And we’re not nearly done. I lick her to climax twice, she slaps my nipples with a paddle and she takes me for more walks with butt plugs in my ass. The one thing I don’t get to do is come.

  Finally, with my time nearly up, she leads me to her husband. “Do you like my pet, baby? Do you want to play with her?”

  He just smiles. First she tells me to take out his cock and suck it. Like the slut I have become, I was panting for that instruction. Only a tiny part of me, now, is disgraced and ashamed at myself, but I quite like it being there. I’ve come to learn that it makes the rush wilder for the full-volume turn-on that fills the rest of me at times like this. I don’t think I want to lose that little shred of shame I have left.

  I feast on him with my hungry mouth for a while, my vagina tingling maddeningly as her fingers tickle the back of my neck, a constant and reassuring touch from the tasty treat’s wife; one tha
t reminds me just how delicious this depravity is.

  Then a gentle push on my shoulder. “Kneel back on your heels, little pet,” she purrs. I uncork him from my mouth to do as she says, and I swear I feel another surge of liquid in my core. Merely from the doing of what she asks.

  She squats down behind me. Her left hand creeps around and holds me firm by the stomach. Her right takes me by the throat, gently tilting my head back so that when I open my eyes, I see him standing above me, holding his hardness in his hand. The way she holds me; this is what a doll must feel like.

  I fucking love it. I could be a doll all day. I’d do it for free.

  The way she holds me for him is driving me to a frenzy. It’s doing the same thing for him. He seems so tall from here; his dick so menacing. So promising. I can see it pulsing larger by the second as he works his own length with rhythm.

  He uses his left hand, and I can see the wedding band he wears. I bring spice to marriages, I think to myself, and I groan at the thought. Her hand is dropping down my stomach, one finger so close to my clit. But she won’t touch it. It’s his pleasure I’m being held for now, not my own. The desire hammers away in my skull.

  Then his burning seed is on my face, and I shudder at the wanton thrill as the hot drops land. I close my eyes just in time, and the shower hits me on my cheeks, my nose, my upper lip and my chin. My breasts rise and fall with my heavy breath as he empties himself all over me.

  His doll. Her pet. Her doll. His pet. I smile.

  “Look at her face!” she says. “I knew this one would be something different. Lucy was right.”

  I’m not sure what she’s talking about. The sight of my cum-spattered countenance?

  “One in a thousand,” he murmurs, and I open my eyes to see him shaking his head in wonder. I’m curious. What did I do? “That smile is worth every penny.”

  I twig what they’re on about. I’m guessing most girls frown or spit or look away when he does what he just did.