Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 103000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
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.