Just Another Day
She took off the cloth and allowed her eyes to adjust to the darkness until, without warning, the lights came on and she was suddenly thrust back in time to what looked to be the 1950s.
The fake room was set in the era. Her dress was from the same time period. She tossed the cloth aside, stretching before removing herself from the couch. She checked to see if she was in heels. Yep. Last time she twisted her ankle and had to improvise on the script.
She walked gracefully over to the mirror and stared into it, knowing they were on the other side She didn’t wave, she knew better. You had to pretend like they weren’t there.
She fixed her hair, reapplying the bobby pins that had been mangled by the cloth, pinched her cheeks and puckered her lips. She kissed into the mirror and winked, “You’re gorgeous.”
Lola had been given the script a few days before. She was to never use her real name and the clients never used theirs.
Suddenly, she could hear the door unlocking. It opened and there stood a man, probably in his late 30s and dressed to the nines. He looked a bit nervous, but had a briefcase filled with nothing and a lopsided grin. He wasn’t bad looking.
“Honey, I’m home!” He sputtered nervously.
“Oh, let me take your coat, dear!” She rushed to help him with his belongings, a fake smile spread across her face, “You look like you’ve had a rough day. Bill! Would you like dinner or a massage? Or shall I be your dinner?” She winked at him, reaching up to cup his chin, stroking it gently. She escorted him to the couch, gently easing into the cushions.
The man’s eyes burned with desire and fear. It appeared as though he’d never done anything like this before so she knew that he probably wasn’t involved in the ring.
Every day was a new set up, new location, new room, new hair, new clothes, new makeup… the list went on and on and on. She was at this strange place for a good while, enough time to learn the ropes. Some days it felt like forever.
Every day was a different person or multiple people at one time, depending on their kink. Some were brutal, others were sweet, but she always knew that others were watching her on the other side of the mirrors. After a while, she gave in to it, allowed it, let them see her.
Every man or woman had a different fantasy that they paid tons of money for, or so she was told.
The 1950’s man wasted no time. Most of them didn’t, even if they were newbies and nervous.
“Get on your knees, Margaret” he told her, opening his fly and revealing a hard cock, “Suck me.”
She smiled, obliging. She knelt in front of the man, shimmying herself in between his thighs. She grabbed his member with her hands, immediately spitting on the tip, winking at the man whose moans were loud.
Her lips kissed the head of his cock and she slid her mouth down the shaft until it hit the back of her throat. The man held onto her hair, pushing her head down until she gagged, trying to breathe through her nose. He thrust himself up and in her mouth over and over until he filled her with his hot gel.
“Damn, you’re good!” She smiled at him, licking her lips, “But can you fuck, Margaret?”
The young girl shrieked in delight, “Bill, of course, silly!” She straddled him on the couch, pushing her panties aside letting him slip deep inside of her. Bouncing up and down on the man’s cock, the two moan in unison, both getting louder by the second.
“Cum for me!” She whispered in his ear, grabbing his face and leaning in to kiss him. The man grunted, pumping violently into her. He ripped her shirt open, revealing large, round breasts, bouncing mercilessly. Taking her tits into his mouth, she continued to ride him until she was on the brink of release.
“I’m so close!” She cried out.
“Ahhh,” the man grunted one last time before shoving his cock further into her core where she ruptured, hissing in ecstasy.
They both rocked back and forth until the man was soft and she toppled onto the spot next to him.
The man didn’t put himself back right away. He caught his breath, looking at the girl next to him and smiled.
“I’ll be taking that,” pointing at her region, “Into the shower.”
Oh a shower kink. These were always tricky, but she managed to not slip and fall the last few times.
He got up and took his pants off, undressing all the way. She was commanded to do the same and he led her into the bathroom. Before they entered, the girl turned around, scowling. It was her last sense of self before she became theirs again.
She quickly resumed her facade as the man leads her into the shower for another go round.
She woke up sore and alone, but that was typical. She was on the bed of the same 1950s setup.
The man was gone. He’d paid the “pimp” already. High class elitists, some knew they were criminals, others hadn’t a clue. At least she got her rocks off this time. Most days, she had to feign orgasm just to please the client. Another day, another dollar.
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