Women In Control (8 page)

Whitney grabbed a hand towel and wiped his
sperm off her ass. “What a waste of good cum,” she said, shaking
her head sadly. “Next time give me a heads-up before you’re going
to do that. We’ll find a better place for it.”

“
Next time?” Scott said,
too tired to mask his surprise.

“
Of course,” Whitney said.
“It’s not even midnight yet. We’ve still got half the night to play
around. Unless you’ve had enough?”

“
Hell no,” Scott
said.

“
Are you sure? Because I
can—”

“
You can just stop right
there,” he said. “No way I’m going to pass up the chance to fuck
you again.”

“
Is that right?” Whitney
said, flashing him a nasty little grin.

“
That’s right,” Scott said,
grinning right back at her.

“
Then let’s go,” she said,
grabbing his hand and starting to lead him out of the kitchen. “Oh,
and don’t forget the Jack. A few more shots and things are apt to
get
real
kinky.”

Scott reached back and snatched the bottle
off the counter. He didn’t want to miss out on the chance of things
getting kinkier. No way, no how. He only hoped that in the morning
he’d be able to remember everything. Somehow he thought he would,
no matter how drunk he got. Some nights you just can’t forget. And
he was pretty certain this New Year’s Eve was going to be one of
them.

#####

The Girl is in
Charge

Confessions of an Escort Addict: Volume
One

I’ve never understood the reluctance to pay
for an escort. The way I see it, escorts provide the best of both
worlds. Not only are you pretty much guaranteed to get someone who
knows how to fuck, you get someone who either enjoys doing it or
are good enough at faking it that you won’t know any different. And
more importantly you don’t have to deal with any of the heartache.
You make a phone call, order the services and type of girl you
desire, pay your money, then relax and start getting warmed up. No
need for any false pretences, no need for any emotional ties, no
need for any awkwardness associated with conventional male/female
relationships. No worry about talking afterward. Or sharing your
feelings. None of that crap applies. As for the morals of the
transaction? What are morals anyway but a set of standards forced
upon us by the arbitrary whims of the society. Fuck it, I say. Do
what you want, what makes you feel good. Fuck everyone else. Let
them live their own life. So the way I see it, give me an escort or
give me death. But enough of the rambling, I’m sure you want to get
to the good stuff. After all, that’s why you bought this right? For
the sex. So here we go.

#

I’m in Los Angeles for an overnight stay in
the middle of a two-week long business trip. There are hundreds of
reasons why I love L.A., not the least of which is its high-quality
escorts. As the porn capitol of the world, the misnamed City of
Angels has no shortage of sex workers plying their trade. You can
get whatever kind of girl you want—any hair color, any attitude,
any race—with nothing more than a phone call to the right person.
And I know all the numbers by heart. I call one of my favorite
companies and arrange for a specific type of girl to come to my
door in exactly thirty minutes, then I open a bottle of $200 merlot
to let it breathe and sit back and allow my excitement build.

#

Exactly thirty minutes later there is a
series of hard knocks on my hotel room door. I go to answer it, a
glass of wine already in hand. Just before I grasp the handle there
comes another series of knocks. Harder than the first one.

“
Open up already,” says a
husky, incredibly sexy female voice from the other side. Impatient,
demanding, used to being in charge. Exactly what I ordered up. My
entire body tingles with anticipation.

I open the door and she steps in and grabs
the glass of wine out of my hand and pushes past me before I even
have a chance to get a good look at her from the front. But the
back is shaping up beautifully. Straight, jet black hair hanging
down beneath her shoulders. Short black dress hugging her
voluptuous curves perfectly, ending just above her knees,
accentuating her round ass perfectly. Gorgeous legs, toned to
perfection, not too skinny, not to muscular. Calves you just wanted
to take a bite out of. The same height as me in her 2-inch heels.
My dick is already rock-hard just from looking at her and all I can
see is her backside. This is going to be a great night.

She drains the glass of wine and pours
herself another. She glances over her shoulder for just a moment
but still doesn’t turn towards me. It’s obvious she’s torturing me,
making me wait, playing her game. And I’m loving every second of
it.

She finishes the second glass and finally
turns to face me. I can only stare, barely able to catch my breath
let alone speak.

“
From the look on your face
I take it you like what you see,” she says, her voice slightly
mocking.

I nod and take her in. Big brown eyes with a
naughty edge to them, dark blue eye shadow, full nose; not big, not
small, lips painted bright red. One corner of her mouth is turned
up in a little smirk. She looks at me with a hint of disdain, as
though she knows she’s better than me. As if I’m her little
plaything. As if she’s running the show. Which she is.

And her tits, oh my god. Large but not
unnatural, they hang perfectly from her frame. Practically hanging
out of her black dress, they were things of beauty; if not real,
than an absolutely perfect augmentation.

“
Oh, you like these, do
you?” she says, grabbing her tits with and pushing them together.
She smacks them, makes them bounce. Then does it again. And again,
laughing at my reaction. Nipples like pencil erasers poke through
the material, mocking me.

And then a tit slips out of her top. Just
one. I almost cream my pants. This absolutely slays me,
irrationally turning me on in ways I can’t quantify. I shiver, take
a deep breath, force myself to calm down.

“
You’re one jumpy little
fucker, aren’t you?” she says. “What is this, your first time or
something?”

“
It sure feels like it,” I
say, hoping my self-depreciating manner will somehow bring my
excitement down a notch. But no such luck. Nothing short of an
ice-cold shower could have that effect on me, and the way I was
feeling tonight I doubt even that would do the trick.

“
Well, you’re in luck,” she
says as she takes a step towards me, her eyes sizing me up with
deadly seriousness, like a lion eyeing a wounded zebra. “Because
I’m a pro. And by the end of the night, you’ll be one too.” Another
couple of steps and now she’s within arm’s length. “And there’s no
way in hell I’m going to let you cum until I’m damn well good and
ready for it. Got that, mister?”

“
Yes ma’am.”

“
Mistress,” she says. “You
call me mistress.”

“
Yes, mistress,” I
say.

She is nearly standing on top of me, her
tits pressing up against my chest. We are face to face, almost
exactly the same height. She eyes me up and down, inspecting me
like a piece of meat.

“
So, you like a woman who
takes charge, do you?” she says.

I nod my head and lick my lips. I don’t
trust myself to speak. As it is I can hardly breathe my adrenalin
is flowing so fast.

“
Then you got the right
girl,” she says. “Because there’s nothing I like better than to be
in control of my man. Especially a wanna-be tough guy like you. I
bet you boss people around all day, don’t you? Always getting
everyone to do whatever you want, whenever you want it.”

“
Something like
that.”

“
Well not tonight, mister.
Tonight you’re my toy. My little boy toy. You got that?”

“
Yes mistress.”

“
Damn right you do,” she
says. And then she put her hands on my chest and shoves, pushing me
backwards. I stumble back a few steps but she’s already on top of
me, pushing me again, more gently this time, moving with me,
backing me up until my butt is touching the wall.

She runs her hand up and down my chest,
pressing up against me with hips, her mouth mere centimeters from
mine, her eyes boring into me with deadly seriousness.

“
You like that, don’t you,”
she says. It’s not a question but a statement of fact. “You like me
pushing you around, putting my hands wherever I want, not even
asking for permission.”

I swallow and nod my head.

“
What about this?” she
says, dropping her hand down to my cock and grabbing it. “You like
this too?”

“
Yes.”

She squeezes my cock tighter, making me
gasp. “Yes, what?” she asks sharply.

“
Yes, mistress.”

“
That’s better,” she says.
And then she kneels down in front of me and starts rubbing my hard
cock. It’s trapped against my pants, pushing into the material with
nowhere to go but still she rubs it some more, making it harder and
harder still, smiling at my discomfort. But still she rubs. I groan
lightly. She giggles and rubs some more. I groan again, louder this
time.

“
Shut up and take it,” she
says in a harsh voice. “Don’t make another fucking sound until I
tell you to.”

“
Yes mistress,” I
say.

She smacks my balls. I wince in pain.

“
Did I tell you to
speak?”

I shake my head no.

“
That’s a good boy,” she
says. “And just for that you’re going to get rewarded.”

She undoes my zipper, sticks her hand inside
my pants. She caresses my cock, slowly playing her finger up and
down the shaft. It’s still folded up against my pants, threatening
to poke a hole in the material.

When she finally unfolds my cock it pops out
of the open zipper like a jack-in-the-box. She places her palm
under it as if weighing it.

“
Not bad,” she says. “Not
bad at all.”

She spits on my cock and begins to stroke
it. She looks up at me. “Do you want me to suck it?” she says,
still stroking as she talks.

I nod.

“
I want to hear you say
it.”

“
I want you to suck my
cock.”

“
Beg for it,” she says,
still stroking.

“
Please,” I say, the words
coming out at no more than a whisper. “Suck my cock. Please,
Mistress. Please suck my cock.”

She sticks her tongue out, licks the tip. I
shudder. She looks up at me and smiles. Laughs. Shakes her
head.

“
Sorry,” she says. “It’s
not going to happen. Not yet, at least. Torturing you is just too
much fun.”

Then she cups my balls in her hand, drops
down farther onto her knees, and scoots further under me. I lean
back against the wall, slide my feet out away from it, and then my
hips, creating a bridge. Giving her more room to work and myself a
better angle to see what she’s doing.

She slips her hand up my scrotum and pinches
it off just below my cock, creating a little pocket. She licks my
sack, then suckles one of my balls, playing with it in her mouth.
Then she does the same with other. She opens her mouth wider and
takes them both at the same time. Bounces them off one another.
Sucks on them, creating a vacuum with her mouth. Increasing the
pressure.

I shudder, focus all my energy on not
blowing my load. She senses this and relaxes the pressure while
still continuing to suck. With my balls in her mouth she lays my
cock on top of her face alongside her nose. She takes my cock in
her hand and strokes it. Lets my balls fall from her mouth.

She scoots back and smiles up at me, a
mocking, “I own you” smile. She is still on her knees. She is still
stroking my cock.

My legs are trembling. My breath is ragged.
The pressure is nearly unbearable. If she would just take me in her
mouth I would cum within a matter of seconds and then I could die a
happy man.

“
Please,” I say.

“
Please, what?”

“
Please suck my
cock.”

She tilts her head, eyes me with menace.

“
Please suck my cock,
mistress,” I say.

Her glare softens. She seems to think about
it for a moment. Then, to my dismay, she stands up and says, “Nah,
I don’t think so. You haven’t earned it yet.”

Her hand is still on my cock and she uses it
to drag me towards the bed. My pants are still down around my
ankles so I have to shuffle madly to keep from falling.

I start to beg her again but she turns and
slaps me in the face.

“
Shut up,” she says. “Did I
tell you to speak to me?”

I shake my head.

“
That’s right.” She turns
me and pushes me down onto the bed. “So you just take your clothes
off and lie down on your back and get ready to make yourself
useful.”

“
Yes mistress.”

I do as I am told, slipping out of my
clothes while she goes over and has another glass of wine. She
ignores me completely, as though I’m not even there, and this just
turns me on even more. Finally I’m naked. I climb onto the bed and
adjust myself so I am lying in the middle. The moment of truth is
almost here. And I can hardly wait.

She dusts off her glass of wine and slips
out of her dress and turns towards me, allowing me full access to
her body. Fully naked now, I get the see it in all its splendor,
taking it in as a whole. Beautiful face, graceful neck, perfect
tits, thin waist, wide hips, neatly trimmed bush, muscled but not
muscular legs. Even her feet were perfect, right down to her
toenails which are painted bright red.