Chapter 5

Chapter Five

My extendednaughty list is waiting when I log on at home, be careful, Ebony messages, don’t commit to too much, too early, but I can’t help diving straight in. I read through the new items, tingling at the thought that I may be doing these things for real, with paying clients.

Hollyhas so many options available to her. What a lucky girl.

I tick anal, that’s a no brainer. Roleplay, sure, I love dressing up and acting. Praise and degradation, yes, please. Other women. Nice.

Bondage and BDSM have a big variety of tick boxes. I figure I’ll go in easy at first and select just a few options, but why wimp out of my own dirty fantasies? The agency has a strict safe word policy in their terms and conditions.

So… BDSM submissive. Bondage. Rope. Handcuffs. Spreader bars. All fine. Hand spanking, crop, paddle, dressage whip – no problem whatsoever, but I leave out cane for now. That thing is like a beast on steroids. I’ve only had a go with it once.

Tit bondage– yes, please. Clamps – hell, yes. Pussy punishment –hand slaps, clamps, spreading and crop. I tick them all with a smile.

Next comes the BDSM dominant category. Could I be an authentic mistress? I’ll likely be crap compared to the other entertainers with that skill on their resume, so I give that a miss for now. Wouldn’t want to tarnish my five-star record.

Multiple partners. Two, three, unlimited. I tick unlimited. I can always turn down the proposals.

Stretch play. Double penetration with toys. Yes. Double penetration with partners. Yes. The thought of that gives me flutters.

Double vaginal. Fuck. Should I? Really? My finger hovers, then clicks. If I’m limping next day, then so be it. I’ll happily limp with the flight booking app ready to roll on my phone.

Level up. It’s onto fisting. Rough, pussy fisting – it makes it clear in the description.

I don’t know about handling that for real with paying customers. I have the option to leave notes besides my catalogue, so I tick the box, but add some text along with it.

‘Not very experienced, but I’ll always do my best. Lots of lube, please. LOTS.’

Next. Double anal with toys. Ouch. My heart races.

I take a breath. I’m getting in deep here. Maybe I’m just overloading myself due to kinky fantasies and a terrible credit rating, so I get a grip of myself for now. I leave it unchecked, along with the others that follow.

Double anal, multiple partners.

Anal fisting.

I scroll down some more, and I begin to see where the hardcorers get their name from…

Bukkake. Unlimited men. I’m not quite there yet.

Double fisting. No way, I’d never manage that.

Breath play. I’d be thrashing around, terrified. I’d look like a fish, flapping about on the bed.

Watersports and extreme ass play. Jesus Christ… the options around that one. Could I do any of them? Honestly? I try to imagine a guy pissing in my face, and I could brace myself, but the even filthier stuff? If I wanted to be a millionaire on my flight to Australia, I’d be all over it, but right now, the flights themselves will do.

When I stare at my revised list, I feel a bit heady. Some of the options would get me off like a bitch in heat with guys I met in a bar and wanted to fuck, but walking up to a hotel room door, with the unknown waiting inside there, like it was with User 1378… I’d be quaking in my stilettos. I will be quaking in my stilettos.

I click submit on my new options.

My profile updates almost instantly, and my revised list makes me look so much sluttier, the filthy pictures of me so much more alive onscreen. It still seems so surreal. I was innocently stacking cereals and grieving over my ex just a few short days ago.

I’m still staring at my updated profile when I catch sight of the illuminated message icon on my account dashboard. I assume it’s to do with Orla giving me new access and info about my new review, but, fuck, along with that I have five new proposals – FIVE. Five different users, with the same basic requirements. Pussy sex, with oral. One of them wants me to wear red lace for him. I could do that, but do I want to? Is my selection of new flavours already too appealing to opt for the vanilla?

I look at the proposal prices. One guy offers £600, saying he likes to play a long time. One seems cheap with £250, so I decline that one, no, thank you. Another one sets the service at £400, saying he likes rough throat fucking. Two more, virtually the same. I could take them all and earn a decent amount, but I’m too intrigued by what else is out there… how many other proposals might be brewing out there in the ether.

I don’t have to wait all that long to find out. I’m still contemplating a few of the existing proposals when a new one pings into my inbox.

User 829 – Male. 46.

His proposal is a little more elaborate than the others.

I like to dominate cute goth girls like you. I like to treat entertainers like the sluts and whores I’m paying you to be. I want to make you gag on my cock and stretch you with toys until your pussy is used up and dripping, juicy. I want anal play, deep and hard, and I want to slap your ass while I’m doing it. Another thing, high on my list, is that I want to punish those lovely big tits of yours.

And all the while, I want you to be a good little girl and call me Sir.

Duration – 5 hours.

Proposal price – £1600.

Holy hell. That’s quite a proposal. I read it through again and wonder what kind of 46-year-old man User 829 is. Does he look old for his age? Is he big? Strong? A suited, booted businessman? Will he intimidate me into a shivering little sub who promises to be a good girl, no matter what?

Only one way to find out… I click accept, and the calendar options come up. Three of them.

I could wait until the weekend, or give myself at least one night off to prepare myself, but what’s the point? I have a flight to Australia to book and the proposal is hot enough to have me fascinated.

I click on the earliest available option, and my confirmation comes straight back through. Deal sealed.

£1600, for five hours with User 829, at 9 p.m. tomorrow night.

I look up the hotel online and it’s more upmarket than the one I visited earlier. It’s in Camden, and I know Camden pretty well.

I drop Ebony a message to let her know, but she isn’t online, probably busy. So, it’s just me, with my thoughts and fantasies, and an extra £320 in my bank account from earlier. Even though the agency took a decent chunk, my balance looks so much healthier already.

I get myself washed and in bed, playing with myself all over again, fresh from a paying man’s cock inside me. Fuck, how I come as I think about what’s going to happen tomorrow night.

Yes, Sir.

I’ve never played that game before with a stranger.

Connor did it sometimes and it was hot, but often more cheeky than dirty. Tomorrow night will be different. Very, very different. The idea of being with an older man – a stranger – with £1600 to go along with it is in a different league. A crazy one. Crazy hot, crazy dirty, crazy exciting and crazy absolutely terrifying, all mashed up together.

Even though I’m exhausted, sleep tries to be a bitch and evade me. Tiredness lets me sleep eventually, but I could throw my phone across the room next morning when it starts beeping at me.

I’m tempted to call in sick for my shift, but cash is cash, no matter where it comes from, and my job is still my job.

I drag myself out from under the covers and put on my uniform as usual. I do the same old duties in the shopping aisles, and make small talk with colleagues, but my mind isn’t on this place in the slightest. I’m already imagining myself in Camden later, walking up to a hotel room door.

I grab another ready-made sandwich for my way home. This time it’s chicken salad, and I can hardly eat it. I force myself to chew, trying to kick away the insane bout of nerves as the tube takes me home.

I’m a jittery mess as I get ready. It’s going to be rough ass play, so I take one of mine and Connor’s toys from the bedside drawer – an anal douche I’ve used plenty. I squat under the shower and clean myself out thoroughly, shaving again, even though I’m still nice and smooth. I want to earn my money by being a star performer, and I want another five-star review.

I choose a tutu skirt to wear for User 829. I put my hair in long straight pigtails tied with ribbon, and wear cute pink lipstick with my cat flick liner. A black bodice, lace top hold ups and platform Mary Jane shoes, and I’m in character. Yes, Sir, I can be a slut tonight.

I set off early enough that I have plenty of time in Camden when I get there. I know the pubs well enough that I settle down in the nearest and get myself a double vodka cocktail to take the edge off, watching the clock as it edges closer to 9 p.m. – it’s going to be a late one tonight. So many people are oblivious as they laugh, drink and socialise. I watch the girls around the bar, and I wonder how many of them would do what I’m about to do for £1600.

The vodka takes the edge off my nerves and helps keep me steady as I head for the hotel, a way down the road, past the bridge. It’s smaller than it looked online, just three storeys high. It’s narrow, but posh, with a gravel path leading up to a grand black door. I look up at the glowing windows as I approach, and get a shudder as I see a silhouette in the one on the top floor.

It doesn’t move as I stare.

I know the shadow is watching me, and I know the shadow knows I’m watching him back.

It’s like there is something unspoken. Dirty anticipation sparking between us as I stand there, illuminated by the outdoor lamps in front of me.

The silhouette is User 829, I can feel it. He almost takes up the full window, and shit, it’s a big window. Part of me is so scared that I want to cancel and run away, but another part of me – the deep, slutty part that Connor used to tease with ease – sees me walking towards the entrance, persuading me I want this experience as much as my bank balance does.

I’m possessed by enough of my dirty little demons to keep me going.

I click arrived on the app when I reach the hotel entrance and get a message straight back.

Come to the suite on the top floor.

Yes. I knew it. The shadow was him.

There’s nobody at the reception desk, and I don’t bother dinging the bell, just use the staircase to the side. I climb to the top, slowly, my breaths ragged with the thought of what’s ahead. There is only one door waiting when I reach floor three. The Master’s Suite. How apt.

I try to catch my breath, telling myself it’s ok, but my knees are virtually knocking together now the assignment is right here in front of me. I shove my phone in my handbag and brace myself.

I’m going to do this.

I clench my fist, ready to tap my knuckles against the door, but it swings open wide before I get the chance, and there he is, User 829. Heavy grey beard. Heavy grey brows, and a heavy set of shoulders to go along with them – so heavy, he looks carved out of stone.

As I stare up at my client, I get a little more than a shiver between my legs. Lust and terror, both at once.

The silhouette in the window didn’t do his size anywhere near enough justice.

User 829 is a mountain, not just a man, and now, for the next five hours, he’s going to be my Sir.