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)
“For you, I may well make an exception.”
Holy shit, I’m a mashed-up ball of everything on the way back to London. I listen to the monotone chatter from the cab driver, nodding in the right places, but everything is whirring.
I check my account, and the huge amount of cash is already showing as a balance.
My review comes in just a few minutes later. It’s succinct and to the point, like him.
A true painslut, and an excellent entertainer. She makes the most incredible squeals when she orgasms, and cries incredible tears when she’s taking her punishment.
5 Stars.
I get a crazy glow, missing him already.
Damnit, is this how it’s going to be from here until forever? Morning after syndrome on fucking loop?
I lean against the back seat and have to laugh at the pit of want already forming. Here we go again.
Next time I’m going to pick something with no chance of morning after syndrome – another Viv and Mark kind of playtime. A threesome at least, with no BDSM. Nothing but filthy fun on a plate with no chance of me falling for a stranger.
Maybe I’m being overly optimistic at that, given recent events. But at least I can try.
Chapter Seventeen
“Fucking hell, he got you good.”
“No shit.”
I position myself right next to the webcam so Eb can get an up-close view of my purple bruised ass. The bruises run right down my thighs as well, and my front is lashed pretty raw. And as for my tits… wow. They are still mottled red under the skin, amongst the patches of bruising.
I sit down on my dressing table stool with a wince, and Ebony is wide-eyed, shaking her head as she grins at me.
“Ok, I misjudged you there, Miss Newbie. Seems you handled your night of hardcore pretty well.”
“The review sure says so.”
I’m glowing with pride, not embarrassed in the slightest at being nude on webcam in front of my new best friend. I must look ruffled to hell, my hair a mess along with the rest of me since I’ve had virtually no sleep since I got home at daybreak – too consumed by the memories of what User 109 did to me last night. I’d do it all again right now, if my body was up to it. Working my clit in bed in the aftermath was hard enough, though.
“You’re going to be out of action for a fair few days, young lady,” Eb laughs, and I roll my eyes.
“Shame. Hazard of the job, I guess.”
“Yep. You’ll have to hole up with Christmas movies until you recover.”
I still remember the horrible sick feeling I used to get at the very mention of Christmas, just a few weeks ago. Back then the festivities were a terrible prospect, knowing I’d be alone in this crap hole of a room, with nobody to share the celebrations with. But not anymore. I’ve been playing Christmas songs, and ordering presents for my parents, completely enamoured by the thought that in just a few weeks, I’ll be flying across the world to be with them.
I don’t know how the fuck I’ve managed to avoid a webcam call with them all this time so far. I’ve cited everything from work shifts, to Connor’s gigs, to having an upset stomach. I’ve even said I’m getting my hair done last minute, and the stylist can’t possibly change it.
I don’t want to ruin the surprise yet, and seeing them onscreen would foil my plans in a flash. Mum would read my expression a mile off, and I’d likely start blubbing like crazy the very second I tried to make the announcement.
I’ve been sending messages, of course, spinning the best bullshit I can about how great work is and how many chocolate biscuits I’ve been managing to stack on the store shelves, but it’s not going to work for ever… I just want to leave it as long as I can.
Talking of presents, it must be delivery time. A buzz sounds out at my bedroom door, connected to the doorbell downstairs.
“Ooh, is that your mum’s special cushion?” Eb asks as I grab my satin nightgown and wrap myself up as quick as I can. “I can’t wait to see it.”
It’s one of the tackier presents I’ve ordered from online. A sofa cushion with a grinning picture of me, her and Dad on it from when I was younger – all of us in matching Santa Claus dressing gowns. Cringe. Should be cute, though. She’ll love it.
“Call you right back,” I say to Eb and close the call.
The doorbell buzzes again, and I mutter Jesus Christ, patience, as I make my way downstairs to answer it. I haven’t even got my slippers on. There’s another BUZZZZZ as I reach the hallway, and I’m going to curse the driver if he doesn’t give me at least another damn minute to get there. I know they are busy and all that, and I know it must be a crazy time of year, so I’m fine, yeah, I’m ready to give them mercy with a grin, only when I swing the front door open it’s not a cushion parcel waiting for me at all.