Whore Diaries II: Adventures in Independent Escorting (6 page)

“50…I know you want to cum so bad…it’s so hard to control yourself with a Goddess using your cock…49…but you absolutely can’t cum until I get to the number one…48…and I’m going to tease the fuck out of you…and keep you right on the edge…for a very long time…47…”

It’s hard, but I manage to hold out and keep talking without cumming until I get to one, and then we do cum together. His orgasm is small and quiet like a gasping fish with not many gasps left. I roll off and throw the cum-filled condom on the floor. 30 more minutes. I can wake him up when there’s 15 minutes, that way he can get a shower if he wants, but it’ll still feel like getting two hours of trance.

I tell him he’ll remember all the good feelings, but he won’t actually remember anything that’s happened. He’ll remember getting here and starting to go under, and he’ll remember waking up feeling amazing. Then I run out of things to say so I wake him up.

“Goddess…” he intones.  “Would you…put me back under…and get me off…or…you know…however you want…to use me…”

I roll my eyes and put him down in a light trance so he’ll remember and jerk him off. Asshole. 

That’s the story of how I made over a grand in a few hours.

“Room 226, he texts, “off the elevator to the right.  I can't wait to serve the Goddess.  Be discreet please, there are coworkers about.”

I check my toy bag and swing it over my shoulder, very purse-like, like I'm traveling and that's my big tote purse.  I come to this hotel all the time, walk through the lobby and get on the elevator.  Then exactly an hour and 15 minutes later, I get off the elevator and walk back through the lobby.  It's the kind of place where smiling, uniformed people stand around and open the door for me, ask if they can help me with anything. and how is my day and can they carry my bag?  It's hard to tell if there's a smirk lurking under the smile of the guy who opens the door for me when he says, “Seeya soon!”

In the elevator, I check the text with the room number one more time and slip the phone into my bra with the condoms.  I'm wearing this long dress I got at the thrift store with banging lingerie underneath.  If I hadn't left my gun in the van, I'd make a really good comic book superhero right now.  The elevator dings open and I walk down the hall.  222, 224, 226.  I knock lightly on the door and it swings slowly inward.  I push it open and step through while Tom scrambles to his knees, his hands clasped in front of his face.

“Oh, Goddess,” he says.  “Oh, Goddess you're so beautiful.  Oh, Goddess.”

“Stay.”  I barely glance down at him as I walk to the table and unpack my bag.  Whips, paddles, varying sizes of dildos to stick up his ass, clothespins, and rubber bands.  Last of all, I pull the condoms out of my bra.  I slowly turn away from the table, eyeing the rest of the room.  Baseball on the teevee, turned up loud to cover the sounds he'll make while I'm hurting him.  His ropes and leather straps arranged on the dresser with decorative fans of twenties splayed out around them.  I scoop up the money and put it in my bag. 

One thing about nice hotel rooms is the nice mirrors.  I look at myself in the mirror as I pull my dress down a little, then up a little, admiring myself.  Really, I'm checking that the sea sponge up my twat hasn't let any blood out, but to Tom I'm just examining my beauty. 

This is where I grin and turn towards him, letting my dress fall.  Superheroine powers activate, I think to myself as he grins and babbles about how beautiful I am.  I glance back at the mirror.  I wouldn't call this one of my more stunning days.  My gut is poking out in a way somewhere between cute and not so attractive, I'm not wearing any makeup, and I'm covered in mosquito bites.  I guess the overall effect is rather stunning, though.

I sit in the fancy chair that almost looks like a throne, and beckon him over with my finger.  He crawls fast and clumsy, scraping his knees on the carpet. 

“Get the coconut oil and rub my feet,” I tell him.

I've been training him to rub my feet the right way, to really dig in with his thumbs.  He's definitely learning.  I lie back and close my eyes, let all the tension from dealing with my family and the hospital all morning melt away.  This is pretty awesome.

“Now rub my back,” I tell him, and I step to the bed, pulling off my bra. 

“Oh, Goddess,” he breathes.  “Oh, your ass.  Your ass is so stunning, Goddess.”

I grin.  “I know.”  It actually is.  Stunning because I never really had an ass before, no matter what I did, but then I started doing one-legged squats and grew one really quick.

I sprawl, my legs just ever so slightly apart, and clap my ass slowly. 

“Ooh, Goddess.”

He crawls up and sits on my legs, rubbing coconut oil in and knots out of my muscles.  The weight of him on me feels good. 

“Oh, Goddess, may I kiss your ass?”

“If you do a very, very good job rubbing my back, I might let you kiss my ass, Tom.”

He leans forward, pushing his hands up my back, and I feel his hard cock against my ass.  That feels good, too, plus I can punish him for it later.  I wonder how my butthole smells, if he's going to get really up close and personal with it.  An hour ago, I washed it with soap, but I've probably farted a couple times since then.  Years ago an ass-sniffing connoisseur told me that the best asses smell like crayons.

“Ooh, Goddess.”  Tom digs his fists in right above where my spine runs into my pelvis, just like I taught him last week.  He's trying to be so subtle and slow about moving his cock back and forth against my ass.

I look over my shoulder, lazily.  “Quit humping my butt, you piece of shit.”

He smiles like it's Christmas morning.  “Yes, Goddess.  Sorry, Goddess.  Thank you, Goddess.”

The thing I like about Tom is that he really gives me both permission and reason to be really, really mean to him.

“You think you deserve to worship my ass?  After humping my leg like a pathetic dog?”

“No, Goddess.  Sorry, Goddess.”  He's staring down at his hard-on, looking genuinely confused. 

“I should sit on your face and smother you with my perfect ass, but you don't deserve it.”

“Yes Goddess.  Sorry Goddess.”

I'm sitting up on the corner of the bed now and he's still standing in front of me, staring down at his throbbing cock.  It looks kind of nice.  I reach out and stroke it.  “Real” dominatrixes aren't supposed to do this, but what the fuck, it's supposed to be about me, right?  If I feel like petting his cock, I will.  I dip my middle finger in pre-cum and swirl it around the head.  He gasps.  I run my hand back down to the base of his cock and gently cup his balls.

“Oh Goddess, oh Goddess, thank you Goddess.  Oh Goddess...” he's chanting.

I squeeze.  Just a little at first.  Then more.

He gasps.  “Oh Goddess, oh Goddess, ohGoddessoh!”

Just before he tries to step back, I let go and swirl my fingers up and down the shaft again. 

“Oh Goddess, oh Goddess...”

I pet his balls with my other hand. 

“Oh Goddess, thank you Goddess...”

I make a circle with my thumb and index finger and twirl around the head.  Then I squeeze with my hand on his balls.  The harder I squeeze the faster I jack his cock, with lube now.

“Oh Goddess, oh Goddess, OH Goddess, thank you Godddess OH!!!  OH!!! Goddess I can't take it!!!”

I  let up with the squeezing a little bit and pull him closer to me by the balls. 

“You absolutely can take it, Tom,” I whisper.  “You know how I can tell?”

“How Goddess?”  He whimpers a little and I laugh.

“Because you are!!!”  I let go and punch him lightly in the balls.

“Thank you! Goddess!”

“Now bend over!”

Spanking, for Tom, is the main course.  It's also a challenge for me to always leave more marks and bigger bruises, to hurt him more than the other dommes.  I grab one of the leather straps and start with back-and-forth slaps, figure eights.  Sweet little stings.

“Thank you Goddess, thank you Goddess, thank you Goddess...”

I step to the side so that I can bring the strap down harder.  I like the way I look like this in the mirror.  Not pretty, but pure and strong and mean.  I use more strength with every stroke until he's jumping and twitching away from me.

“Oh God,” he groans.

I stop.

“What did you say?  There's no fucking gods here!” 

I dig my fingers into his love handle to hold him still while I whip him as hard as I can with the other hand.  He tries to crawl away, but I have him by the fat roll and pull him back. 

“Oh Goddess, thank you Goddess, oh Goddess I can't take it!!!” 

“You are taking it, motherfucker!!!”  I make the next couple strokes even harder, but then I lay off a little.  Hit a couple new areas.  Maybe I shouldn't be quite so aggressive.

“Oh God,” he groans again.

I stop again.  “You're really starting to piss me off with this God shit,” I tell him before I change whips and really start ripping into him.

“Sorry Goddess, thank you Goddess, oh Goddess, thank you...”  He tries to crawl away again, but I grab the fistful of fat and drag him back.  He grabs the pillow and buries his face in it.

After a while, I stop feeling so angry, so I stop whipping him.  This is great therapy.  This is what Susun Weed would call “A” Anger.  That means you feel it right now and you express it right now and just get it all out.  “B” anger is more delayed, stewing, passive-aggressive, then there's “C” anger for childhood issues, and it just keeps going.

I knee him lightly in the balls. 

“Face down ass up!”  Maybe I can exorcise some of my “C” anger this way. 

He crawls up on the bed and kneels on all fours while I pick out a dildo.  It's my vibrating blue one, which is new for him.  Usually I use the black one or the giant purple one.  His safe word is “black,” and one time he yelled it at me and I said, “No silly, this is the PURPLE dildo,” for a second before I remembered his safe word.  I pull a condom over the blue dildo and walk behind him. 

“I told you face down!”  I crack the leather strap over his shoulders and he drops to his elbows, his face in the pillow again.  I drizzle lube up and down his ass crack and he moans.

“Ooh Goddess, thank you Goddess, thank you Goddess...”

I hold the tip of the dildo against his ass and he slowly works himself onto it.  “Oh Goddess, oh Goddess, I don't think I can take it!  We have to start with the small one!”

“You've already sucked the whole thing up your butt, slut,” I tell him, and then I start petting his cock with my lubed hands some more. 

“Ooooh, Goddess, oooh no I'm gonna cum.”

“You don't cum until I say so!”  I punch him lightly in the balls and he half moans and half gasps.  Then I stand up, turn the dial on the vibrating dildo to halfway, and start to hit him again with the leather strap just as he starts to moan his pleasure again.  I alternate hitting him and stroking his cock until there's 10 minutes left, and then I turn the dial all the way up on the vibe and tell him to jack himself off while I whip him.