Hooker for the Day

After turning off the engine to my Miata, I glanced at the dashboard clock. I was an hour and forty minutes early. That was good, actually. It was a long drive out to Watermark Estates, about five hours. I was nervous about getting caught up in construction traffic on the turnpike and didn't want to be late for my "date." Besides, I'd have enough time to touch up my make up and have a drink or two in the hotel lounge.

I had been chatting on-line with John for the last few months. At 31 years old, I was recently separated – young enough to have another crack at life, and yet I didn't want to rush into things. At this point I was just looking for a little physical satisfaction until I got my head together. And I think I found the perfect person to help me out. John was a bit older, 42 years old, married but in a loveless marriage. Both of us were looking for the same thing, namely a little tryst with no commitments. We settled on Watermark Estates, an exclusive resort in the mountains, mainly because it was far away from both of our respective hometowns.

I chat suggestively with a lot of guys on the internet. In a short time, I've amassed more than twenty names in my buddy list. Phone sex? Cyber sex? Done that. Initially I found those interactions hot, but the novelty has largely worn off. I am ready for a meeting in person. There's no shortage of men willing to help me, each citing their skills at pleasing women. Some of these guys are quite attractive. And yet I found myself gravitating towards John, a guy who lacks in tact and is, at best, average looking. John is direct, almost to the point of being rude. The strong appeal, then? His intentions are very clear. He wants to control me, to use me for his personal pleasure. OK, so perhaps this desire to be exploited is not healthy. But I'm captivated with the idea. No, more like obsessed.

For the last month or so, since we decided to meet up in real life, John had been directing me. He's devised all the plans, which I am not allowed to question. I am to meet him in the hotel bar, dressed as a hooker. He will "hire" me, and I will have to follow his every instruction, focusing solely on meeting his needs. As part of the preparations, he instructed me on how to dress. He asked me to buy a sports bra, cutting holes out for my nipples so that they would protrude. I was to wear a tight button down jacket over the bra. My skirt was to be short and sheer. He was very specific; I had to wear nude stockings with a seam down the back, held up by a lacy black garter. No underwear, and my pussy must be freshly shaved. Finally, he insisted upon stiletto heels. I rarely wear heels, as I'm pretty tall already. But John insisted on a minimum 4" heel, citing that he was 6' 3." He instructed me to practice walking in the heels in front of a full length mirror, and learn to walk like a hooker, slowly and seductively, my feet purposely overlapping each other, my hips swinging out.

As I stepped out of the car, I realized the game was on. Immediately, a bell hop in white gloves approached me, asking if I had any luggage to check. No, I told him, that I was meeting a client for drinks. Valet parking was quickly arranged. I wondered if I should have rented a different car for the day. Not that I was embarrassed to drive a Miata, but a Jaguar or Bimmer would have made me feel less conspicuous. Within a minute the white gloves were opening the lobby door for me.

I had visited the web site for Watermark Estates and knew that it was a classy place. But being in the lobby and seeing things in three dimensions for the first time, I fully understood why it was rated five stars. The lobby was the height of the hotel, seven stories, with a massive crystal chandelier over the front desk. Off to the left was a curved staircase that leads to banquet rooms on the 2nd floor. On the other end were three glass elevators. At each floor, cascading ivy hung over the railings. The atrium was adorned in tropical foliage, with a small trickling waterfall near the entrance.

As I moved through lobby, I noticed a placard by the stairs that announced, "Welcome District 7 American Bar Association delegates." Ah, I thought to myself, who else by attorneys could afford the room rates, which started at $320 per night?

Since it was early afternoon, guests were starting to check in. The lobby was full of activity but well staffed. I walked slowly and seductively through the lobby, feeling the stares of the male guests, as well as some glares from the women. I located the ladies room easily, feeling the need to freshen up. Per John's instructions I carried a small purse which contained only my car keys, a few personal items, and fir lined handcuffs. I reapplied the bright red lipstick and added a glossy overcoat to my lips. I ran a brush through my blond, shoulder length hair, fluffing it up a bit. Looking at the reflection in the mirror, I realized that I could pull this off. Away from my home town, I could be a hooker. I liked the feeling a lot, actually, to be viewed in a sexually suggestive manner.

I left the powder room and headed for "The 19th Hole," a sports bar that overlooked the golf course. There were perhaps twenty people in the room, mostly men dressed in casual attire. As I made my grand entrance, many eyes began to follow me. A few men elbowed their friends, pointing me out. I had never felt so desirable. At a leisurely pace, I sauntered toward the counter and selected a barstool by the window, with no other customers around. The bartender, a stocky black man, immediately approached me. A minute later, he returned with my apple martini. I asked him to start a tab, but the man indicated that drinks were on the house. I seductively smiled at him.

An attractive older man, perhaps 50 years old or so, with a full head of white hair, appeared by my side in short order.

"Whatever you are selling, I'm very interested in buying."

It amused me, really, that I – this high school librarian, pillar of the community – was being passed off as a hooker. I coyly smiled back at the gentleman, thanked him for his interest, but indicated that I was meeting a client.

"Would you mind if I shared a drink with you, while waiting for your client?" he asked, continuing, "I like the view from this chair very much."

"I wouldn't mind at all." I extended my hand and added, "My name is Paige." Actually, my name was Teresa, but for the show today, my name was Paige.

"Ted," he chirped in. "I don't suppose that there would be time in your schedule after you meet your client to fit me in. I'm supposed to be in a meeting this evening, but I would much prefer to spend the evening in your company. And I can assure you that I would make it worth your while."

"As tempting as your offer sounds, I have plans to return home after my meeting."

For the next fifteen minutes or so, Ted sat with me. He was a great storyteller, and had me laughing hard. It seemed like all eyes in the room were aimed in our direction. I sensed the envy from the other men in the room, but none of them tried to make a move. I was obviously very happy in his company. Ted took advantage of his proximity, staring at my chest, checking out my legs, touching me on the shoulder as he told his stories.

Out of the corner of my eye I spotted a tall man entering the room. Instantly I knew that it was John. I had seen a few pictures. Even though the pictures were 5 years old, I recognized the chiseled face, the dark hair. He was early. But then again, so was I.

"Ted," I interrupted, "I believe my client is here."

Ted stood up and extended his hand toward me. I expected that he would shake it, but instead he pulled it towards himself and gave it a kiss. "It was a pleasure meeting you, sexy lady." He backed away and walked toward the bartender, ready to settle his bill.

John was still in the bar entrance, looking around the room. He caught my glance and I smiled broadly at him. He nodded and moved in my direction.

"Is this seat taken?" he asked.

"No, please sit down," I implored. "So, you must have just gotten in."

"As a matter of fact," John started, "I did just check in." John glared at me, almost coldly. And then I remembered. He was to dominate me. As such, I was not to start a conversation, but only respond to his requests. Already I had made an error. I would not make that mistake again.

The attentive bartender immediately took John's order and filled it. The silence was initially quite awkward, particularly after being so animated with Ted. John held the silence for perhaps three minutes, testing me. During this time, he looked me over slowly and carefully, overtly avoiding eye contact. Finally, he broke the silence. "How much do you charge?"

"It depends upon the services you require. A blow job is $150. Anything more is $200 hour, with a one hour minimum." Mind you, I had no idea what a real hooker would charge, particularly in a setting such as this. But it didn't matter. This was just a game, after all. There would be no money exchanged.

"That sounds entirely reasonable, providing that you are willing to submit to my needs."

I nodded, noting "My rates may be high, but for that I am willing to be your subservient fuck toy." John smiled at me. He had used that phrase, "fuck toy," on me last week when we chatted on line. I'm sure he appreciated the fact that I remembered those words.

John continued, "I have a meeting starting at five, but believe that I would gladly share the next two hours in your company."

John stood up, dropped a $20 bill on the counter, and walked toward the door. Without saying a word, I followed him by a few paces. Waiting for the elevator he asked, "Your name?"

"Paige," I replied demurely.

"Paige," he repeated. He had known me only as Teresa. "My name is Tony, but you shall refer to me as Master from this point on." I was a bit confused at first. Even though I was using an alias, it never occurred to me that he would. But then remembered that he was John Anthony. OK, so this did make some sort of sense. "You will only speak to me when I speak to you. Do you understand, slut?"

"Yes, Master." I replied demurely.

As the door of the elevator opened, he asked, "Are you wearing any underwear?"

I shook my head to indicate no and he smiled at me.

"Good. I want you to stand close to the edge of this glass elevator, facing me, so that everyone can see your pussy as we ride up the elevator. Spread your legs a bit more, so they can get a good view."

I wasn't prepared for this request, but found it enormously seductive. As the elevator slowly lifted toward the sixth floor John looked down, appearing pleased that several men were seated almost directly below us. Nearing our destination, he reached under my skirt and pushed me out of the lift by my ass.

John didn't say a word, but walked to the left, expecting me to follow him to his room. I placed my purse on the table, carefully removing the handcuffs from the purse. John nodded approvingly, picked them up, and then moved towards the full length window in the bedroom. I followed him. I expected that he was going to pull the heavier curtains over the sheers, but instead he opened the sheers up completely. Across the way, I could see into several other rooms. And with the shades now completely open, anyone in those rooms could now see into our room. Because of the position of the sun, I wasn't sure if I had an audience.

"Slut, I want you to walk over by the light, so I can get a good look at you." Slowly, I moved towards the window, walking just the way he instructed me. When I turned back around, he nodded approvingly. "Now, slut, I want you to strip for me."

John sat down on the edge of the bed, unzipped his pants, and pulled out his pulled out his cock, which was semi-rigid. In silence, I complied with his request.

"Slowly, now," he instructed. It felt strange to dance without music, but John seemed to enjoy it. My hands followed the curves of my body, and I slowly lifted my skirt for him, exposing the garter belt, and then lowered my skirt again. I turned my ass towards him and leaned over slowly. I then turned back to him and smiled, unbuttoning my jacket slowly and seductively. John began stroking himself strongly. I was so turned on, to see him masturbate.

"Take off your jacket, slut," John commanded. At this point I felt a bit awkward. A sports bra with holes punched out is not exactly erotic. But I removed the jacket, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"Come here, slut," he instructed. I slowly moved towards him, my hips swaying from side to side as I walked. Now a foot in front of him, he let go of his cock and pinched my nipples, and hard. I winced; this was actually painful. He pinched my nipples again, this time harder. I tried not to wince the second time, but I was in pain. And yet, I could feel wetness forming in my crotch. John's hands returned to his cock, now quite erect, and he barked, "Lose the bra."

I crossed my arms in front of me and slowly lifted the bra over my head. Once removed, I tossed it to the side. I dared not smile, instead giving him my best "come hither" look.

"Let's see those tits move, slut."

"Yes, master." I rhythmically moved my body from side to side.

"Nice. Now, bitch, turn around and give a show to the rest of the world."

I turned around and wondered ... was someone else watching me? Did he see someone? I continued shifting my body from side to side, also lifting up my skirt a bit.

"Now lose the skirt, slut."

Still facing the window, I unzipped the skirt, then inched my skirt slowly down, exposing the top of the garter belt and then my ass. I moved my ass from side to side, and then dropped the skirt altogether. I then slowly turned back towards John, giving him his first view of my snatch.

"Touch yourself, whore."

Still dancing, now wearing only nylons and heels, my hands moved towards my labia and I began stroking myself. It felt so odd to be masturbating publicly, not only to John, but to anyone who might be viewing through the window.

"Nice, bitch. Very nice." John stroked himself faster and said, "Come here towards your master and position yourself on all fours, facing me." I did as he instructed. He continued to jerk off, his swollen cock only a foot from my mouth. I suspected that he would want me to suck him dry, but dared not make a move without his consent. Good thing, actually, since he had different plans.

"Open your mouth, bitch. You're about to get some of your master's spunk in that sweet mouth of yours."

I obediently opened my mouth. He picked up the pace a bit, and then started to cum. Initially he hit my eyes and hair with his spunk. Then he made a direct hit in my mouth. John moaned loudly as the last of his semen dribbled onto my lower lips.

"Swallow my seed quickly, bitch, and then clean me up with your tongue."

I immediately gulped his load, licked my lips. John positioned himself on the bed, face up, waiting for me to service him. With cum still on my face, I started to lick his cock clean. I expected that John would want me to start delivering a blow job that would get him stiff again, but this was not his intent. After his cock was clean, he pulled back, noting, "Bitch, you have exactly one minute to run to the bathroom and clean up the rest of my spunk." He looked down at his watch. My God, he was timing me. I moved swiftly towards the bathroom and pulled a washcloth down and started blotting my face, trying not to smudge my make up.

From the bedroom I heard, "Twenty seconds more, bitch. And you better not be late."

I threw the washcloth down and headed back to the bedroom.

"You are two seconds late, bitch," he said, checking the watch. "Lean over." He smacked my ass hard, twice, one for each late second.

"Now turn around." I complied, and he added, "You must learn to obey me. Do you understand?"

"Yes, master," I demurely replied. The last ten minutes were so incredibly hot. What I wanted, more than anything, was his stiff rod in my mouth, in my pussy. But he gave me neither. I was left wanting.

John continued, "You will see that now that I have cum the first time, I will be able to hold it for a long time now." I looked him in the eyes and nodded. I then noticed the fur lined handcuffs in his hands. "Your wrists, slave."

I extended my hands out and he slapped the cuffs over my hands. He positioned me on the bed, face up. He took out a necktie and bound my hands above my head, tying the handcuffs to the left post of the bed. He then opened the closet, removing the sashes to the two white terry guest robes. He used the sashes to tie my legs to each of lower posts.

He then turned the television set on, ordering a porn movie. He dryly noted, "I need to unpack." Now dressed only in his boxers and a dress shirt, he carefully moved the contents of his suitcase into the dresser. In the mean time, I got caught up in the movie, where four black guys were gang-banging a red-head. It was actually quite well acted. As the girl moaned with pleasure, I felt an intense desire to fuck. Except that I was helpless, even to masturbate. As best I could, I moved my body on the bed, arching my back, hoping to lower my pussy on the sheets so that I could stroke it.

John was watching my antics with amusement. "You horny, fuck toy?"

I nodded, "Yes, master."

He laughed a bit, and then reached down for my leg constraints. I thought he would take them off or perhaps loosen them. Instead, the tightened them. I now had less range of motion. I was staring at the TV, wanting so badly to be fucked, to be pleasured. And yet I was totally helpless to do anything about it. It was the worst kind of torture.

John reminded me, "I am paying you. You are here only to service me. Do you remember that?"

I nodded, realizing that he was giving me exactly what I wanted. I would be getting pleasure in the process of submitting to his needs. John left for the bathroom and I heard the water from the shower turning on. He was going to take his time as I continued to get horny. Ten minutes later, John walked out in a towel, his large cock now rather erect. He sat on the edge of the bed and watched the porn movie for a few minutes. With his stiff cock in his hands, he moved towards me, his cock now inches from my mouth. "Suck me, slut. Make it good."

I was very happy to have his cock in my mouth. I did my best work on him, using the tip of my tongue to probe the tip of his dick. I was skillfully pleasuring him, wanting to start slowly and build up the excitement. I was surprised when he corrected me, stating, "No, suck harder, bitch." I started sucking harder but he didn't seem pleased. He grabbed my head, one hand on either side, and started impaling me with his stiff rod. I couldn't breathe and started to choke. I felt his cock sliding down my throat, further than I ever thought possible. "That's how I want it, whore." He mouth fucked me for perhaps 20 seconds longer. I felt myself getting faint. My god, he was going to kill me. Finally he pulled out and I coughed hard and long. John laughed at me. I stared at his cock, which must have been 8" long. I wondered how he managed to do that. His used his cock to slap my face a few times, and then started to impale me yet again. This same routine was repeated perhaps a half dozen times. Over time, I trusted him not to harm me to pull out in time, and seemed a bit more relaxed.

John fingered my pussy, scooped up my juices and placed his hand near my face. "Lap up your juices, whore." As I sucked his fingers, he commented, "Most whores don't get wet. But you are enjoying yourself. Are you some sort of a nympho whore?"

I nodded, "Yes, master."

"I need to remind you," John started, "that you are hired help. I really don't give a shit whether or not you cum."