I clutched my bag and hopped up onto the teal porch, avoiding the steps. I rang the doorbell frantically, knowing that I was late again. I have always prided myself with how early I was for everything, but over the past few weeks I was a bit scatterbrained and couldn't show up on time for anything. I could hear the shrill ringing of the doorbell through the oak doors. They were soon accompanied by familiar heavy footsteps that belonged to Carlos who opened the door.
"Calm the fuck down, and stop with the fucking bouncing." He said opening the door for me. I was a bit jittery from all the caffeine I had had.
"Is Max here?" I whispered.
"You bet your fucking ass he is."
I gave Carlos a hug and pecked him on each cheek before stepping around him and walking through the narrow hallway ... As I passed him, he reached out intending to slap my ass, but he misjudged how far away I was, so his fingers barely brushed my bum. Carlos was a hefty bloke and acted as a sort of bouncer or guard for the house. He let the workers and the clients in. He was known for unsuccessfully hitting on all of the girls and a few of the lads too. I was off limits as I was fucking the boss, so he never did more than slap my backside.
The corridor opened into a spacious sitting room which was neatly arranged. Max was sitting on the love seat in the middle of the room, reading a book. I dropped my bag on the seat next to him and stood above him waiting for him to acknowledge me. He lowered his book and peered over his reading glasses.
"Good thing I am fucking the boss then." I said leaning down to kiss him. I put my hand on his shoulders as our lips met. My tongue wrestled it's way into his mouth, finding his. I was lost inside his mouth immediately. His hands began to roam around my torso and up to my breasts before he pulled away.
"You better get ready for Paul in case he comes early."
I groaned as I pulled away from him. Paul was definitely a regular. In the few weeks I had been in California, I had fucked him close to ten times. There wasn't a whole lot to do to get "ready" for him. I took a small plastic bag out of my pocket and emptied the remaining contents onto the coffee table. The white powder fell into a small pile onto the dark wood. I took a piece of card and out of my back pocket and began racking the white powder into two lines. Max slid off the couch and joined me on the floor with a rolled up bill in his hand. I watched him as he lent over the table and in one swift motion snorted the cocaine. I followed his example and did the same.
"She does not need that fucking shit." Carlos said peering into the living room. "She's acts like a crack addict without drugs."
"It's not crack." I pointed out.
Carlos just gave me the middle finger in response. "That girl needs to take it down a notch." He said to Max.
"Sorry I need the caffeine." Max just shrugged. My hyperactivity didn't seem to bother him. I didn't sleep much and would inhale coffee just to keep me awake which meant I couldn't sleep the next night either; a vicious cycle I have yet to break.
"It's called youthful exuberance Carlos. That's what I like about her." Max said nonchalantly.
I stuck my tongue out at Carlos playfully. Max looked at me, shaking his head before hoisting himself up onto the sofa. I got off my knees and stood in front of him. Rubbing my sore knees. Max pointed downstairs, signalling that he wanted me to get ready. I unbuttoned my jeans and slid them sexily down my thighs and off my legs. Or at least I imagined it was a sexy move. I had lost a lot of weight so my baggy jeans plummeted to the floor instead of wiggling off my hips. I unhooked my bra and took it off from under my t-shirt. It too fell to the ground.
I held my arms above my head, stretching my body out. A grin spread across my face. "I'm ready." I swung a leg over Max's lap so I was straddling him. I began kissing him again, passionately; his dark face clasped tightly in my pale hands. I loved the look of my pale white skin against his black when we made love; our bodies intertwined. Afterwards I would lie with my palm placed flat on his chest, looking at the contrast of our colour.
"No you're not." He said as he broke away from my kiss. It came out garbled as I bit his lip, not wanting to stop.
"Okay, I'm not. I know who he is, and I dislike him more than I did before." I moaned burying my head in his neck. I had recently found out Paul was a broadcaster for a local conservative radio station. I had so many problems with the opinions he loudly voiced on his show.
Max just smiled. He obviously had known who Paul was. "You're not paid to like him, you're just paid to fuck him." Max had his hands on my breasts again, my nipples between his fingers. He tweaked them before telling me to get my ass in gear.
I knew that was true, and as much as I disliked Paul he wasn't as sadistic as many of the men I had been with. I pulled myself off Max once again and headed to the basement. This house in Montecito was small with only one room in the basement. It was windowless, dark and had concrete floors. It was damp, but private, easy to clean and cheap to maintain. It was smaller than the other buildings in Los Angeles, which were constantly in use. It was spacious and allowed ample space for the various toys and devices that filled the cupboards and lined the walls.
There was a wooden table in the middle of the room. Rings were nailed into each end, allowing a rope to be strung through them. It was adjustable and could be lowered to look like a bed. The height looked right. I checked to make sure everything was in the right place and when I was satisfied that it was, I took my position on the table. I closed my eyes and waited for the doorbell to ring. The cold caused my nipples to stand erect and my pussy began to moisten in anticipation of what was to come.
I soon heard the doorbell. Carlos would have opened it. I heard Paul's heavy footsteps pound above me. I slipped my hand into my panties, familiar with the role play he wanted. I ran my fingers up and down my wet slit, before plunging two fingers inside myself. I closed my eyes and began moaning, enjoying the feeling of my own hands. I knew Max would probably be watching. I assumed there was a camera somewhere, allowing him to take a peak when he pleased. Or if there was trouble, Carlos would be sent down to rescue me.
Paul opened the door to the basement quickly. The hard panel knocked loudly as it hit the wall. He studied me briefly as I fingered myself in the dimly lit room, before diving straight into his role.
"Addy! What are you doing?" He shouted.
I pulled my hand out of my knickers. "N-n-n-nothing Daddy." I stuttered, hiding my hand behind my back. I could be a pretty good actress when I need to be.
"That doesn't look like nothing to me. Tell Daddy what you were doing slut." He sneered as he came closer to where I was lying.
"It itches. I just had to scratch there."
Paul continued to walk closer to me until his large belly was pressing against the wooden table. I put him in his mid-fifties. He was tall but slouched at the shoulders when he walked. The bags under his eyes highlighted his exhaustion. He had deep wrinkles etched into his face. He was overweight and would sweat profusely under any physical exertion. He slipped his hand into my panties and felt my wet snatch.
"That doesn't feel like an itch to me, you dirty cunt. You were playing with your self weren't you, you little whore?" He raised his hand and brought it down on my pussy with a smack, the thin cotton of my knickers softening his blow. "Naughty girl. What were you thinking of?"
"Just a boy at school Daddy." I continued to act afraid of him. I am a pretty soft spoken person, which allowed me to easily act as a vulnerable school girl.
"This is Daddy's cunt." He told me, grabbing my labia, and pinching it. I pulled back from him. "This is for my use only, and nobody else. I think I need to show you who it belongs to."
He grabbed my hair in his hand and wrapped it around his fist. He pulled me off the table gently, then dragged me to the middle of the room. My head stinging from the force of him pulling my hair. He pushed me down to the ground and my knees smacked the hard concrete floor. He pulled my hair so my torso was completely straight. He wedged his foot between my knee and splayed my legs.
"Stay there, bitch." He was out of breath already. I could hear his heavy breathing as he walked away from me, to get something that was up against the wall.
The Spanking Bench. It was a favourite of many of my clients. I found it uncomfortable as it put a lot of strain on my neck. But as far as the devices in the basement went, the spanking bench was one of the more comfortable ones. He dragged it out to the centre of the room, before pulling me up by my hair again. He pushed me onto it so my torso was flat against the leather covered board. First, Paul strapped cuffs around my wrists so I was locked in place. I pretended to struggle against him as he did this. He leant on my body to keep me still, his full weight pressed me further into the board making it difficult for me to breathe. I gasped for air. Once my wrists were secure, he bent down to cuff my ankles to the legs of the bench. The chains which attached the cuffs to the bench were short, allowing little movement. I let my head fall so that I was looking at the ground.
.... There is more of this story ...