Chapter 28

User Unspecified.

You have come to our attention, in a positive light. Our proposals are only ever offered to candidates who have an exceptional rating and a vast array of listed services.

Please note, you do not have permission to discuss this proposal on any of the Agency forums, it is strictly confidential.

This proposal will be vague, extreme, but safe. You have the assurances of the Agency, but please consider this carefully before accepting.

You will be collected by a driver and hooded. You will not know where you are going, as the journey will be in silence.

On arrival you will be stripped, cuffed in shackles and led to your destination. From this point onwards, you will serve us however we see fit. Your hood will not be removed at any time.

There may be a significant number of men who will be using you for BDSM, pain play and sex. Our tastes can get extreme – so, please be certain of your limits.

You can use your safe word at any time, and if you should choose to, you will be escorted out of the premises immediately and driven back to your apartment. You will be paid up until the minute you decide to withdraw.

Still, the hood will not be removed.

We take aftercare seriously. If needed, the driver will happily escort you back home and ensure you are safe and comfortable before departing.

Duration: Six hours

Proposal price: ￡60,000

"This can't be right,"I say, handing my phone to Josh next morning. "Sixty grand? Seriously? They must have added an extra zero in there without realising."

"That's got to be one hell of a proposal for sixty grand." He grins until he reads the text. "Fuck, ok. Well, so much for keeping it strictly confidential, you just handed it right over."

I raise my eyebrows. "It doesn't count if I talk to you, does it? You're hardly going to shout it from the rooftops."

"No, of course not, just be careful who else you tell. As in, nobody."

I watch him reading the proposal, and he looks so serious that it makes me shift nervously on the sofa. "Do you know anything about this kind of thing? What is this unspecified stuff about?"

He meets my eyes. "You must have come to the attention of the founders. Quite an achievement."

"The founders?"

"Yes, that's what Tiff was told when she quizzed Orla, but that's all Orla would say. She had the choice. Accept it or not."

"Tiff has had one of these? Did she accept it?"

He raises an eyebrow. "That's strictly confidential."

I take my phone back. "Sounds hardcore."

"You'd expect so for sixty grand."

I can't stop staring at the offer price. "Do you think I should accept it?"

"That's your choice, baby, not mine. You know what your thresholds are, and what you're comfortable with. Even a whisper of your safe word will have you right on out of there, but I'm sure it's sixty grand for a reason. It's your call."

He knows more than he's letting on, I can see it in his eyes. There's no doubt Tiff has taken on one of these proposals, but he isn't going to share the details with me, and I admire him for that.

My mind wanders as I read through the description again. It barely says anything, but it's clearly going to hurt. I love BDSM, but I haven't done it for a while. I have a session lined up in a few weeks' time, but this one is crazy urgent. One session option only. Tomorrow.

"Why such little notice?" I ask Josh, voicing my thoughts.

"They have access to your bookings calendar, and I guess they like to be impromptu. Less chance that you'll try to research and blab about it."

"I wouldn't do that," I say. "It's in the proposal. Confidential."

He smiles. "You're such a good girl, aren't you?"

"A sensible girl, more like it. Whoever these founders are, I don't imagine I'd want to piss them off."

My imagination runs riot. Maybe I'll be presented to some kind of lodge, where the members have robes on, swinging incense and chanting as they beat me with whips made of thorns. Or maybe they're a top end business club, laughing and smoking cigars while they paddle my ass to shit. Maybe there are a few of them, spooky and mysterious, or maybe I'll be on a stage, in front of hundreds of onlookers.

Maybe they'll be laughing at me, jeering as they degrade me as their slut, or maybe they'll be ominous, deadly silent as I take whatever I need to take to earn my fee.

Do I really give all that much of a shit? I'll be hooded, anyway.

This could be my one chance to enter the true, unabashed world of hardcore, with the people pulling the strings behind the scenes. And if I could make it through the six hours without using my safe word, what could come next? Does anyone really know? I didn't even know these people existed until now.

And sixty grand in the bank? Wow, that's just crazy to the max.

Josh does an impression of my overthinking lip thing, and I swat him on the arm.

"Stop it, you. I'm giving it serious consideration."

He ruffles my hair. "I don't know why."

"What do you mean?"

His smirk is off the charts. "Your thumb is already hovering over the accept button. You're kidding yourself by even contemplating it. Tomorrow night, when the car pulls up, you'll be all set and ready to go."

"Yeah, and absolutely shitting myself most likely."

"It won't matter. You'll still go."

"For sixty grand? I'd be crazy not to."

"It's not just about the sixty grand, and you know it. You'd do it for a lot less, to test yourself out on the hardcorer scale."

He's coming to know me so bloody well. Better than I know myself, it seems, because I get a burst of excitement at the thought. Tiff would have made it through the full six hours. There's no way she would have used her safe word. Not a chance.

Josh ruffles my hair again, bringing my attention right back to him.

"Promise me one thing though, will you?"

"Of course."

"Don't put your pride beyond all else. If you reach your limit, you call time out. End of. You'll hardly be a failure if you manage twenty grand and not sixty, or even if you decide it's not for you after ten minutes and get right back in the car again. It's a proposal, Ells, not an Olympics contest."

I see his concern, I get it, but for me it's much more than just a proposal. Being an entertainer has given me a sense of myself I never saw coming. Proposals excite me beyond words, and so does the ability to push myself into new territories – experiences that send me sky high with adrenaline, and endorphins and excitement.

I click on accept and show Josh the screen.

"Done. And I won't be an idiot, ok? If it's too much, I'll call time out. Maybe I won't even make it to the proposal itself. I might get so freaked out, hooded in silence in the back seat that they have to turn the car around."

Josh laughs. "As if."

He's so easy as he sits beside me. Unfazed.

"Have you ever had an offer from the founders?" I ask. "You must have come to their attention as well. How could you not? You're riding high on the hardcorer scale."

"No, I haven't. I guess I'm not their bag." He stretches his arms out over his head, displaying the gorgeous ripple of his abs. "Shame, though. I'd love a shot at it."

"You'd want to be a sub for sixty grand?"

"I'd give anything a go. Not just for sixty grand, but for the sheer hardcore joy of it. We're more alike than you realise, I think, you and I. You don't give your ambition enough credit. You don't give yourself enough credit."

I lean into him, my head against his shoulder, happy.

"I'm coming to, a little more, day by day. Proposal by proposal." I look at him with a smile. "And every single second I spend with you."

"Aww, cutie," he says, and snuggles me tight, wrestling me on top of him.

I love him like this. Sweet Josh, alongside the filthy dirty Weston. A perfect combination. Just like I want to be. The perfect blend of Ella and Holly.

Tomorrow is going to give me one hell of an opportunity.

"How many guys do you think there'll be?" he asks, then he hitches my skirt up.

I shrug. "What if the founders are all women?"

"That would be interesting, but somehow I doubt it."

I feel his hard cock against my thigh. He tugs my panties aside.

"What if," his cock presses at my pussy, "all the guys have ladders? Think you could handle that?"

I slide my hand down between us, grip his cock and squeeze at the piercings.

"Maybe not," I tell him, "this one's more than enough for me."

"You say that now…"

"I'll always say that."

He smirks. "Hmm, I'm not so sure. I think you could handle more."

"Maybe one day we'll find out. But right now, I'm going to ride the fuck out of this one."

I rise up and impale myself as our lips meet, and I fuck his amazing cock, slowly as we kiss. There is no pounding from Josh tonight, just heady lovemaking. Yes, that's what is.

Kissing softly as I ride his laddered dick. Biting and tugging at each other's lips as we come.

Afterwards, laughing in the shower. Snuggled up in bed, stroking my hair as I fall into sleep.

I feel so good, so wanted, so loved. A total contrast to what tomorrow night might bring.

Josh helps me get ready when the time comes. I browse my wardrobe as he watches, holding up potential outfits. Do I go mega goth, in a bodice and long split skirt, or for cutesy, in a little tutu dress with heels? How about evening wear posh, in one of my expensive designer dresses? Josh grins when I've exhausted my supply of possibilities.

"Well?" I ask. "What do you think they'll like best?"

"I don't think it makes any difference, baby. You'll be stripped bare, with a hood over your head by the time they see you. It's only the driver and the person who strips and cuffs you who'll get to appreciate it."

"Good point, but that doesn't mean I can't look the part, right?"

"True." He points to one of the dresses on the rail. A tight, hot, black PVC number with a zip all the way up the front. "Ease of access, and it shows your gorgeous tits off like a dream."

I take his advice, and I don't even bother with panties or stockings. Nothing but slip on stilettos. It'll make my thighs so slippery and wet by the time I get there. A nice early surprise for my clients.

I straighten my hair, even though there is little point, and do my makeup to absolute precision, despite the fact it'll be out of view.

"They're missing out big time," Josh says as I stand before him, ready to go. "A hood over a beautiful head like yours is selling themselves short. They'll be missing out on your pretty throat as well. More fool them."

He bear hugs me, before I set off, rocking me side to side. Almost time. The car is meeting me in the parking area, out of sight of the main Belgravia courtyard.

"I mean it," he says. "Use your safe word if you need to. That's what it's there for. And I'll be waiting up for when you get home. Send me a DS as soon as you can."

"I will."

I kiss him with fervour, uncaring if my lipstick smudges. The thought of him waiting back here for me is more rewarding than sixty grand could ever be, but in the meantime, it's going to be an epic adventure, and I'm ready for it…

Or I think I am until I'm outside, waiting for a car to show up, with my coat wrapped around me as I shiver. It's cold, but that's not the only reason I'm shaking. My heart is racing, and my legs are jittery, but I'm getting kind of used to this kind of apprehension now. It's becoming second nature, and in some ways, I hope it never stops. There is something addictive about it.

The car that pulls up is a gleaming black Bentley, with blacked out windows. The driver's window opens just a fraction, and a voice booms out.

"In the back please, Holly. The hood is on the seat."

I do what I'm told, and my heart speeds up another gear. The hood is loose, black cloth, with a tie at the bottom. I put my bag to the side, and buckle myself into the seat before I slip it over my head and tie a knot to secure it in position.

The rumble of the car is so accentuated. Every movement in the road feels so much more extreme with my sight blocked, and my breaths feel hotter in the hood. More pronounced. I can breathe easily through the fabric and the gap around my neck, sure, but sensory deprivation is disorienting. I lose track of where we are within minutes. I don't know which direction we are heading in, or where the destination is, or even how long it's taking us to get there.

I try to zone out of the fear and let my horny imagination take over. I like pain. I love pain. These clients are bound to know what they are doing. They will know how to coax my body and push me to my limits and get the very best use of my time. Of me.

I clench my legs and my thighs are already wet, like I intended. I'm under no instruction not to play with myself, so I chance it. I slip my fingers under my skirt, and brush my clit, just to tease.

I'm going to be fucked and beaten to the extreme, for sixty thousand pounds this evening. I won't know who will be doing it, and I won't know what's coming next – the pleasure and pain is all in their hands. True, utter submission, at the mercy of strangers.

Fuck, I love that.

It's the kind of situation I've been fantasising over for as long as I can remember – but in my fantasies it's always been for free. Not for the reward of sixty thousand pounds. Even the thought of the payment landing into my account is insanity.

I want them to make me earn it.

I want to be worth that amount of cash to them, and I want to last the whole six hours, to give them every second's worth of value.

My fingers speed up as I sink into the fantasy. I want to be a slut and earn it. I want to give myself over to my clients and let them take my body however they choose. I want to lose control. I want to be free of everything but the need to serve.

My breaths get faster in my hood, and my fingers get faster on my clit, but I keep myself on the edge, because my orgasms – if they choose to give them to me – are theirs to own, not mine.

I'm still on the edge when the car slows down and takes a left turn. We must be on a driveway or something because there's no bumps of a lane, or a track, just a slow, smooth drive until the car pulls to a stop.

My fingers aren't interested in my clit now. The fear strikes hard, like a lightning bolt, heart thumping and breaking through my dirty fantasies.

It's here and it's real. Six hours to earn sixty grand – and I have no idea what's lying ahead of me. It's hard to fight the natural impulse to battle and run when the car door opens, but I keep it together. Someone reaches in to unclip my seatbelt and takes me by the arm.

"Welcome, Holly," the voice says, and it's low and deep. The man is bulky, I can feel it as he pulls me out of the car and against him. I hear the jangle of my bag as he reaches in and takes it from the back seat.

He leads me along, and I rely on him for balance, wishing I'd have chosen more sensible shoes. I focus on my breathing, holding back whimpers as he instructs me of a step, step, step coming up, and I manage it, in sync with his directions. We climb the steps and walk through a doorway. I hear the door close behind us.

We're on carpet, or a rug now. I feel it under my heels, a contrast to the clack of the stone steps outside.

"We'll keep your bag safe," the voice says, and lets me go. I teeter, but don't fall, managing to keep my balance. "I'm going to strip you now," he says.

He takes off my coat, and there is someone else alongside him, I can hear them shuffling around. He hands them my coat, before he unzips my dress in one solid movement, and holy fuck, I feel so cold and exposed without it. I wrap my arms around my chest to cover myself, but he tugs them back to my sides.

"No hiding."

"Ok. Sorry."

"Out of your shoes," he says, and I balance as best as I can as I step out of them. His hand is there to guide me, and I hear the other person reach down to take them away.

Then comes the jangle of chains. It makes me jump as they get closer.

"Arms out in front of you," the voice says.

I do as I'm told, shivering as the cuffs are fastened securely around my wrists. Thick leather, with buckles. Buckles and chains. I hear the man drop to his knees and he fastens another set of cuffs around my ankles. The chains are connected, and I feel like a criminal awaiting sentence as he takes my arm and directs me along.

Hell, it feels like a long journey. Every step feels like a mile.

I'm so nervous when he stops. He drops so his face is in mine. It's weird that he's so up close through the hood, yet I haven't got a clue who he is.

"Holly, I'd like to reinforce that you can use your safe word at any time, and the session will cease immediately. Should you do so, I will collect you and return you to the main hallway. I will then uncuff you, and get you dressed again. The car will be waiting to take you back to your apartment. Do you understand?"

I nod. "Yes."

"Under no circumstances will you remove your hood, even after using your safe word. You must trust in us that the session is over, and you are safe. Do you accept?"

"Yes."

"Excellent. Then, in that case, your proposal starts now."

I hear the creak of a door opening – clearly thick, heavy and wooden – and then he leads me inside.