My name is Ms Layla Smith, and I am, as you might say, a lady of negotiable affection. This is quite wrong indeed. My price is rarely negotiable, since the customers willing to negotiate obviously are not wealthy enough to afford me. I am a true professional, discreet and perfect in every manner a gentleman could ask for. I know what they want before they even know it themselves, when to smile, when to stare, when to lie, when to be the ever so modest little flower, and when to be the seductress, the dominatrix. Men pay dearly for these skills, and my patrons have turned me into a very wealthy woman indeed. I am afraid that I may be the best whore in London, and the best madam. It takes me but one look at a new girl to know her assets, her ever so charming talents that will make customers pay for the benefit of her company. If a customer favours the pretty and coquette, I will give him Madeleine, who has the face of an angel and the manners of a young, aristocratic heartbreaker. If the gentleman in question enjoys his girls shy and petite, I will bring him Juliette, who is but a c***d in body and manners and has the most lovely blush. If he likes them fiery and demanding, he will be brought the pleasure of Sharina, a curvacious young woman with the most exquisite temper and a sex that will leave him sore for days. But when a man wants a woman, hot-bl**ded and full, with the waist of a sylphide, I will give him myself. He will never leave my bed unsatiated.
The tale I am about to tell you is about one of my more particular customers, a charming man with whom I have made an aquintance. I will not give you names or indicating marks, but leave him as anonymous as he expects me to.
When he first walked into my establishment, a well dressed gentleman with a face as long and slender as his form, I knew that his tastes would be demanding, perhaps even excessively so. His eyes were calm and controlled, which is a sign as good as any that the gentleman in question is a man of the world, and thus has certain desires which cannot be fulfilled in the company of simple girls. I greeted him at the door, placing a glass of champagne in his gloved hands and asked him to tell me his business. He asked to see my girls, and I called them in, making them stand in a row for him to chose. While inspecting them, he made extensive use of his cane, lifting a chin, patting a waist, lifting a skirt to inspect the leg of the girl in question. With a wrinkled brow he turned to me.
“I am afraid that none of these girls are to my liking, Madam. They are, indeed, a fine line of pretty faces, but I doubt that any of them would be able to act accordingly when faced with my more peculiar desires.”
I assured him that they were all very well trained for every need a gentleman might have, and that all that really should guide his decision was his taste in hair and face, in the style of body he preferred, but he shook his head, eyeing me.
“I believe, dear Madam, that I could not possibly choose any one of them. They are all pretty flowers, but I am a man; I need a woman, a rose which can sting me, dig her thorns deep inside my flesh as I pluck her. Is it too much of me to ask to take your services in regard instead of those of your girls? Your complexion is most becoming, and I believe that we can make good use of each other.”
With a smile, I accepted. He had, indeed, inflamed my curiousity and I am but a woman, even though I am used to the lustful gazes of men, his choosing of me above the young and pretty girls in my establishment had made me look at him with sympathetic eyes. He offered me his arm, and we left together, into the more private quarters of the house.
I had chosen the red room for this encounter, finding the flowing velvets and heavy gold framed mirrors suitable for a man of his fibre. Still smiling, I faced him, stroking my hand over my tightly laced corset and up to the breasts, very full in contrast to my wasp-thin waist. He shot me a glance, a short sign of confirmation, and thus he began to speak.
“I am not interested in your manners, Ms Smith”, he said as he opened his neck tie. “I am not interested in whore's folly or the skills you have to please. I want to meet you in a battle of wills, Ms Smith, a game to which I am sure you are most suited.”
“And of what might this game consist, Sir?” I asked, in my most well modulated mezzo soprano. He stopped to watch me, a clear, green gaze fastened in the shallow waters of my own.
“Oh, I believe we will get along splendidly, Madam. I really hope that you do not wish me to explain the details of my appetites to you. I am, myself, a rather strong-willed person, and as most of my sort, I despise the modest, pleasing nature of women. On the other hand, I am not effeminate. All I expect from you is to be like a man, and that I will, as well, act as one. I will do with you as I please, and you will do me the very same favour. May the best man win.”
My face had twisted during his short speech, and with a challenge burning in my eyes, I held his gaze, raised an eyebrow as I flicked open the button of my petticoat. As it fell to the floor, I was left wearing nothing but my shoes, the silk stockings, my corset and silk chemise beneath it. The hair around my sex was elaborately trimmed without loosing its generosity, silky black against the paleness of my skin, and so was the hair under the arms, shaped flat and trimmed of all abundance.
“I believe, sir,” I said with a confident smile, “that you may have gotten far more than you bargained for.”
Falling to the knees, I raised my well manicured hands to the fly of his grey pants and opened it, one button at a time. To my delight, he had prepared well, no underwear restricting the swell of his penis, and I examined it thoroughly with my fingertips, a statuesque pillar of perfect size and fit in my hand. He was a gentleman of clean habits, and I felt no hesitation in placing my tongue upon the glans, tasting the sweetness of the thin skin and the opaque liquid making my lips shine with the redness and gloss of a laquer. Tasting the pleasures of a clean, well formed man was but one of the benefits of my profession, and one I savoured dearly. I have been known to consume men of a size most girls can only dream of fitting into their tiny mouths. To my surprise, he did not seem to react overtly to my efforts, but watched me coldly from above.
“I do not believe you have taken my words seriously, Madam”, he said in a cool voice. “I wanted you to put your wanton desires first, thus rendering me capable to achieve my own through sheer f***e in a battle between equals.”
Cruelly, I placed my teeth around his shaft, meeting his eye. My mouth was pressed fiercely shut against the pale penis, a threat of the pure power I exercised by keeping his manhood in a firm bite. As the flesh gave way under the pressure of my teeth, his eyes widened, hands grasping my hair, trying to pull me away. When his strength was too much for me to muster, I released his cock from its imprisonment, challengingly watching his face.
“And I do believe you have not taken my intentions seriously, Sir”, I replied. “I see the tasting of a man's flesh as the utmost sign of dominance, and it pleases me intensely knowing that I have the choice whether to give him great pleasure or render him incapable for the rest of his life. I will not let you bereave me of this.”
His smile was not in the least comforting, a twisted lip and raised eyebrow combined in an expression rendering the handsome face nothing short of fell.
“In that case, Madam, it will be my pleasure to feed your appetite.”
With a strong hand he f***ed my head down, pushing the stiff limb mercilessly into the wetness of my mouth. I could not move, so strong was his grip of my head and hair, and he alone was able to chose the rhythm and depth of his **** of my face and mouth. When I decided I had given enough, I once again bit down on the root of his shaft, and as the sudden pain loosened his grip for but a moment, I broke loose and stumbled to my feet. Face to face we stood gasping for a moment before I pushed him backward, down on the soft eiderdown of the bed. Pinning his hands to the matress above the handsome face, I straddled him, let my chemise caress his loins and belly with the stiff prick pointing to my bottom.
“I believe that m'sir is getting randy,” I teased, twisting my arse as to rub the throbbing member against my soft thighs and mound. “My clit is swollen with desire, and I think that your needs will have to wait.”
Stroking the length of his prick between my legs, I seated myself so that the head was pressing on the sweet source of my desire, enjoying the pleasure of feeling the warm limb working my cunt on the outside, where my pleasure would be far superior to his own. With a twist, he broke free, his hands almost meeting around my waist as he tried to remove me, but I was too indulgent in my pleasures, and he too weak from the sensations of my voluptuous lips caressing him. It was not until I was close to spending that he turned around, making me fall downwards, until I lay on the belly and he was sitting on top of me, short of breath from his weight on my back.
“I believe that the Lady is not properly undressed”, he said truimphantly. “I imagine that your bosom is quite lovely, and your form not lacking in any aspect. Why would you shield it from me?”
With a harsh pull, he undid my corset, and my wriggling to get loose only hastened its demise. I knew the silken chemise to be revealing enough for him to admire my naked form, and I turned like a captured snake, so that my arse moved in a way irresistable to most men. I was rewarded with a stiff pole pressing in between my thighs, and soon, I felt the head touching my lips as he f***ed his cock into my cunny. The pleasure was as divine as it was unexpected. A hardened prostitute like myself is hard to arouse, but our power play had heightened my desire to a point where I was unable to move, not only from his weight on my body, but also from true and deep want. He pushed his member into me in deep and hard strokes, not fast, but in such a steady rhythm that I felt my head blush and my thighs weaken as I once again felt that I was all cunt, all sex, and that his throbbing cock reached not only my pussy, but my bosom, thighs and face. I felt him stiffen as I spent around him, and he waited, perfectly still, as I clenched him, arguing him to keep on moving, to give me what I so feverishly desired. Instead, he withdrew, without further ado, and started tending my back with soft kisses and caresses, worshipping my skin and shoulders with his mouth.
“I was right, dear Madam. Your form is divine. You did wrong to hide it so greedily from me.”
My only retort was to grasp his still hard prick with my right hand, and when I was sure of my grasp, I turned around on the back to watch him fully. He was in an agitated state, the head of his penis red and swollen with a perfectly tight bag forming against the hair of his inner thighs. Keeping the cock in firm hand, I let my other hand stroke lightly over the pouch, watching his eyes close as a slight shudder escaped him.
“Now you have seen me, dear sir. The least you can do is to give me some more of that sweet plunging you have offered me.”
Without further ado, I pulled his cock to my mound and pressed myself to him, so that he slid into me completely. Holding him still, I did not move, but let my cunny do the work, and soon he spent lusciously, filling me to the brim with warm sperm. He looked angry, but I did not let him pull out of me. Instead, I held his shaft in a firm grip with my muscles, locking my legs around his loins, and continued to let him feel the firm contractions of my inside. Placing a hand on my breast through the chemise, I met his gaze, offering it to his mouth. The sight of my hand around the white hill, full enough to spill out between my fingers, aroused him once more, and I felt him stiffen as my fingers rubbed the amber nipple until it stood like a button through the thin silk. I relaxed, felt his member become stronger, harder and grow to wonderful dimensions inside my slit until I once more was filled up to the brim with cock.
“Would you mind losing your chemise, Madam?” he asked, hoarsely, as he met my gaze once more.
With his throbbing prick inside me, I slowly stroked the chemise off as his eyes greedily followed the movement of the silk over my skin, but as my face was covered in the thin fabric, he took advantage of my helplessness to leave my pussy achingly unattended. Trying to pry off the bonding piece of attire, I felt his hands grasp my bosom, kneading them.
“Dear Madam, what glorious assets you had hidden under that corset,” he whispered, almost mockingly. “God truly has given you a beautiful front to ravish.”
And when the chemise finally fell to the bed beside me, he was already seated on my chest, pressing his shaft between my breasts. It was a delightful sight. He was well equipped with a beautiful, clean shaft and a rounded knob that disappeared entirely between the round globes of my bosom. In a vulgar gesture, I spat down on it, and his eager movements rubbed the spittle to the skin between my breasts. I threw my head back, offering my mouth to the calming air. It had been a long time since I last had such a lover, one that engaged in such spontaneous erotic excercises and demanded that I do the same to my own pleasing.
“You may come in my face!” I gasped. “If only you promise to keep your rod stiff for my arse. I feel the need for you to fill me up completely, in any concievable way, and your liquids to trickle down every one of my orifices. And, sir, I will not say please.”
With a smile, he hastened, forcing his cock deeper and deeper between my moistened cleft until he spilled his seed and it splashed in f***eful spurts over my chin and neck.
“That, Madam, is a fortunate sight, drops of silver over such a pretty face and voluptuous globes. I would truly love to see that face covered in spendings, but I am afraid that I do not have enough to summon at the moment.”
My eyes meeting his conveyed nothing but a pure and open challenge as I stroked the sperm from my chin and, lowering my hand, started kneading it between my ample buttocks.
“I just hope that you remember our agreement, sir. I need a prick in my arse as well, and I will not let you leave until you have pumped me so full of your load that my arsehole is as dripping as my cunt.”
I could see my words take effect on him, but even though his cock was slowly rising once more, he rose himself, pretending to start looking for his pants.
“I am afraid that I am rather satiated at the moment, Madam”, he said in a voice so indifferent it fired me with the utmost rage.
“At least, dear sir, take a last look at what you are denying yourself.”
I had raised myself on all fours, standing naked on the bed, having even removed my shoes and stockings, everything before his eye was pure, naked skin, flesh blushing with the tender heat of healthy lusciousness. When I knew his eye was caught, I pressed the glistening finger towards my rear orifice and started circling around the blushing flower. He came closer, leaning over me, silently watching my finger slide into the small hole before another followed. I already felt ready for his assault on my rear, but still... he needed more time. The surrender I craved was for him to lose the last of his control. I started circling my loins and buttocks, as if my fingers were a penis that I tried to thrust deeper and deeper inside of me, and as I fitted a third finger into my tight nook, my other hand found the clit, and started rubbing it feverishly. He groaned behind me, almost as if in pain, and soon I felt the hardness of his member rest on my buttocks before he violently pushed away my hand and entered me. It was no great feat to fit his cock into my arse after such a showing, and he plunged me deep, with hard, almost uncontrolled strokes that made my whole body shake with the f***e of his fucking. With my finger on the very center of pleasure, it took no long time for me to spend, and this time, he didn't stop to tease me, but thrust deeply into my tighest hole while the pleasure f***ed me to moan and gasp into the pillows. At the time for my second coming with his stiff limb in my arsehole he spurted, and we spent together lavishly until we were both exhausted.
“The next time”, he said when he bid me farewell, “you will remove your clothing at once. I prefer you in the nude, as should any sound gentleman. And I love these nails of yours, they have scratched me divinely.”
I need not mention that he is still a customer here at the Dragon Lotus, and that I honour his request to find me in nothing but the flesh when he comes to see me. Or that my nails still leave deep marks in his flesh after each visit.