The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Not A Great Deal

Tags: MC FD MD MF FF

Synopsis: Andrea has an important deal negotiation coming up but she’s somewhat distracted by Rachel, a new office assistant.

Author’s Note: Although this story appears to take the form of a set of diary entries, it’s written as though it’s being spoken. Let’s just imagine that each night Andrea is in bed recounting the day’s events to the big sister she never had. If it matters to you, the only mind controller is a woman and her victim is a woman, but the only detailed sex scene is MF and MD. Feedback is welcome via .

It looks like the Henderson thing is about to spring into life again. Chris said I need to be tough with them and get us the best deal possible. Yes, he actually said that to me. I managed not to hit him. He’s just worried I guess.

Chris is all right really. And I don’t think it’s a sexist thing. It is a big deal, and I do have to remember that I’m still relatively inexperienced. But, you know...

I don’t like Henderson much. I don’t really know why. I mean he seems perfectly normal really. But there’s just something a bit creepy about him. He’s a bit too focussed, if you know what I mean. He’s probably a borderline sociopath or something. Or not—what do I know? I mean, I haven’t had him on the couch yet.

Oh, that came out wrong...

And that’s quite an unpleasant image I’ve conjured up now. That’ll take some shaking.

Anyway, whether I like him or not is irrelevant. I mean, the negotiations will be tough: he’ll play hardball; I’ll play hardball. But really, it’s just a game—that’s what you come to realise. And I know I’m good at that game, you know? I’m not being bigheaded or anything; it’s just a fact.

A new girl started today, working with Alison. Her name’s Rachel. She seemed sort of, I don’t know... There was something about her.

Alison was taking her around, introducing her to everybody. And it can’t be more than a couple of months since she was introducing the previous one. I always find that a bit awkward, when someone’s dragged into my office and it’s like: “Here, this is so-and-so. You might see her around the place a few times before she resigns in a week or two. Now find something to say to her...”

I mean, what do you say?

I said hello, obviously. And she smiled and shook my hand. I suppose she said hello too, I don’t really remember.

Oh, no, I do actually. She said: “Pleased to meet you, Andrea.” There, thank goodness I remembered that, eh?

I don’t know what it was about that smile though... I keep thinking about it. It’s like maybe I recognise her from somewhere. I don’t know. It’s weird.

But she seemed nice enough. Not a sociopath anyway. Well, probably not.

The new girl, Rachel, popped her head in today and asked if I wanted a coffee. That’s pretty much a given at any time of day, so, yeah, she went and got me one. She can’t have done much else all day if she was fetching coffees for everyone.

I was kind of impressed with her though. We had a bit of a chat and she seemed to remember everything that Alison had said about me yesterday. It made me feel bad for not having taken in anything Alison said about her. At least I remembered her name though, thank god.

She’s nice; I like her. She pitches it about right: friendly, warm; but not too much, not over familiar, not false. It’s how I’d like to be, I suppose.

I can’t believe she’ll stay around for long in that job; she seems way too smart for it.

There is something about her though, and I can’t put my finger on what it is. I mean, well, I’m thinking about her now, so, that’s kind of unusual...

I thought yesterday that maybe I recognised her from somewhere, but I’m pretty sure it’s not that.

It probably doesn’t matter.

Chris asked about the Henderson deal again. I had to reassure him that I’d let him know as soon as the meeting is finally arranged.

I do like Chris but he can be exasperating sometimes. It’s a big deal, I know. But, I mean, that’s the point: I do know. Chris? Are you listening?! I do know!

OK, so, I think I’ve got a bit of a girl crush on the new girl, Rachel!

Which is odd because that’s never happened before—not even at school. I mean you get the impression that every schoolgirl falls madly in love with at least one woman teacher, or one of the other girls, and it’s all perfectly normal, etc, etc. But it never happened to me. Maybe I’m a late developer.

She’s just... I don’t know. She’s just really together. Cool is the word, I suppose. But you never get the sense that she’s trying to be cool; she just is cool. I suppose that’s what cool is.

She’s younger than me—I think she said twenty-four. But, I mean, we’re both in our twenties. OK, only just in my case, but it’s not like there’s this big...

Oh, what does it matter?!

I mean, nothing’s going to happen. And really, I don’t think I’d want anything to happen. But... well, I’d kind of like to... Well, no, I would like to... well, kiss her.

I can’t believe I’m even thinking that!

Honestly though, I think it’s more of a kind of sisterly thing. I always wanted a sister. And actually, in spite of our ages, I mean, when we’re talking I feel like she’s older than I am. So it must be a big sister thing.

Do you get big sister things...? Is that a thing?

Anyway, I don’t really want to do anything with Rachel; I’d just like to spend some time with her.

I think.

The Henderson meeting is set for next Wednesday. Maybe that’s why I’m thinking about Rachel all the time: I don’t want to think about Henderson. But, no: the meeting will be tough, but I’m not really worried about it.

I did consider not letting Chris know immediately about the date being set, just to be a rebel. But obviously I did let him know, straightaway. Because I’m too professional. And uptight. And uncool.

It turns out that Rachel has worked at Henderson’s.

We were chatting again (yeah, another coffee) and I mentioned the Henderson thing and she said, all matter-of-factly: “Oh, I used to work there.”

And so of course immediately I was all: “Hey! Sit down! Tell me more!”

We had quite a talk about it. I mean, obviously she didn’t have any really useful information to pass on—she wasn’t in any higher a position there than she is here. But oddly it felt really useful. I don’t know, any background information is good, I suppose.

And of course it was an excuse to spend some more time with Rachel!

Yes, the crush is coming along nicely...

I don’t know what it is about her, I really don’t.

Honestly, I could barely concentrate sometimes on what she was saying. I felt like the worst kind of man, ogling her. But really I don’t know if I actually was. It was just that I couldn’t maintain eye contact, because of what I was thinking. So my eyes kept looking... elsewhere. And I mean, like that was going to help...

I did think that, maybe, she might like me too? I don’t know. I just get, maybe, that impression. I mean, she does keep getting coffees for me; she can’t be doing that for everyone.

And she said—about the Henderson thing, “I hope you’ll think of me if you need anything.” And, you know, that’s how she said it: exactly those words. And it stuck out because it was a weird way of putting it.

And, like, maybe it was supposed to stick out? Maybe it was, you know, loaded with meaning? Maybe it wasn’t just about the Henderson thing?

I don’t know. Maybe that’s just wishful thinking on my part.

It’s so weird. She’s not even really what you’d call sexy. And yet she is—she really is. I didn’t think it was sexual before, but I think I was in denial.

No, that’s not it. I think that I honestly didn’t realise, because it’s not like: “Oh, she’s pretty; I wonder what it would be like to... you know.” It’s not my brain leading the way here. It’s more like hormones, pheromones; it’s like an animal reaction. It’s like: “Oh, she’s quite nice. Er, why am I all damp...?” I think my brain’s just catching up with my body.

I suppose I don’t really know what lesbians would call sexy anyway. But I mean, that’s the point: I’m not a lesbian—I wouldn’t even know where to start. But she makes me want to.

I mean, anyway... she’s definitely got something. And whatever it is, I can’t deny that I like it!

I sent Rachel an email first thing this morning thanking her for her input yesterday and, you know, if anything else about Henderson should occur to her, etc.

I didn’t mention that I dreamt about her last night. Or that when I woke up early this morning, I spent a (very) good half hour thinking about her while I masturbated. I didn’t mention any of that.

I did put a kiss at the end though.

But I deleted it.

Actually I did that a few times, putting it in and taking it out. But in the end I did manage to send it without the kiss. Thank god. I honestly nearly didn’t. I don’t know what I was thinking.

But let’s be honest: I only sent the email in the hope that it would prompt her to pop in for a chat later.

Oh, I mustn’t forget, I managed to get a short-notice booking at the salon for tomorrow morning. I thought I’d get my hair done, and maybe my nails.

I’m not sure if that’s for Henderson’s benefit or Rachel’s. Actually, no, I do know it’s for Rachel; I never play that card in business. Well, not really... And I don’t think it would work on Henderson anyway. But I guess it can’t exactly do any harm in that regard either.

It’s funny. I was thinking how ridiculous I was being—about Rachel, I mean. I mean, I’m not a lesbian—I know I’m not. And I’m not bisexual, or anything. And, you know, I do know it’s all in my head—she’s not interested really. And neither am I, really. And nothing’s going to happen. I do know all that.

And, I mean, I was thinking all that, and then...

She came in around lunchtime with the offer of yet another cup of coffee, which of course I accepted. And when she came back with it, I said, “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

I don’t normally say those kinds of things, you know, but it was a safe way of saying something that I really meant, and really wanted to say.

Anyway, she said, “Oh it’s nothing. I have to look after my pets, don’t I?” And she put her hand on my shoulder and gave it a little squeeze.

And maybe she does normally say those kinds of things. Maybe she wasn’t saying something she really meant. Maybe it really did mean nothing to her.

But right then, at that moment, that didn’t seem possible.

And that was kind of exciting. And I mean, my body was... excited.

And suddenly it felt like I was in one of my dirty dreams about her. And there was a real danger that if I said the wrong thing, she was going to realise that I have dirty dreams about her.

And so all I was capable of coming back with was, “Oh, that’s nice.”

Because there was no safe way to say what I really wanted to say.

And, anyway, she gave a little laugh, and the hand disappeared, and she was starting to head for the door.

And that would have been that if my stupid brain hadn’t decided to have a crack at saying something anyway and I heard my big mouth say, “I’m glad I’m one of your pets, Rachel.”

And it certainly sounded to me too much like I really meant it.

And she kind of stopped and looked around and smiled a really nice smile. And she said, “I’ll let you into a little secret: you’re my only pet.” And she laughed again—like it was nothing, like it didn’t mean there was something sexual between us. And then she was gone.

I spent most of the afternoon replaying that smile in my head, and her voice saying those words. And it got me wondering if I should have left that kiss in after all.

I’ve resolved to get her out of my system by the end of the weekend. And if endlessly masturbating as I fantasise about her is going to do that, then I’m off to a flying start.

I managed to do some prep for the Henderson meeting today. I should have done some over the weekend but, you know... there were other, more pressing matters...

It’s probably fair to say that I haven’t got Rachel out of my system.

And I think I may have blushed when she popped in mid-morning.

It’s weird when you’ve spent a couple of days thinking dirty thoughts about someone, and then suddenly there they are in front of you. I mean, well, your brain has to make some adjustments pretty quickly. And it’s like you’re constantly having to run everything you say through a filter. You know, it’s like: this is what you would say in the fantasy, and this is what you should say in reality, and you better make sure you don’t get the two mixed up.

Anyway she asked how the Henderson stuff was going and I said I was pretty much on top of it, which I more or less am, I think. But she came and stood beside me and put her hand on my shoulder again, and she gave me some advice about how she thought I should play it.

Now, if Chris had done that, I’d have politely told him to fuck off. But Rachel doing it... I mean, OK, it seems kind of ridiculous, and presumptuous on her part, and all that. But, you know, frankly she can put her hand on my shoulder and be as presumptuous as she likes any time she feels like it. I mean, seriously...

And anyway, I can’t have paid much attention to what she was saying because for the life of me I can’t remember a word of it!

I can remember what she smelt like. And I can remember how her fingers were almost stroking my shoulder. And I can remember noticing that she wasn’t wearing a bra. No. Scrub that. I can remember looking to see if she was wearing a bra and being excited to realise that she wasn’t. And I can remember contemplating reaching around to her bottom and stroking it, just ever so gently, just with my fingertips.

I can remember all that.

But I can’t remember a word she said.

I didn’t stroke her bottom, did I...?!

No, I’m sure I didn’t. I’m sure I’d have remembered that. It’s just that daydreams and memories are really made of the same stuff, you know? I’m sure it was only ever an idea in my head.

Anyway, when she was through with all that, she was kind enough to notice that I’d had my little beauty treatment over the weekend. She complimented me on my nails, which was reassuring because I’d been worried they were a little OTT.

She held her palm up in front of me and asked me to tickle her with my “talons”. So I did—just a little bit, just gently, and slowly, you know. And she laughed and said she loved people doing that. So I kind of pulled her hand back and held it there while I did it some more! We both laughed.

She has beautiful, soft hands. Lovely long fingers.

Oh, and when she was leaving, I did a silly “Don’t go, it’ll make me sad” kind of thing. Which is pretty embarrassing now I’ve forced myself to remember.

But, you know, I mean she stopped. And she went along with it and said, “Now, now! Big girls don’t cry.”

And then she left this perfect pause before she said, “And a big girl like you certainly has nothing to cry about.”

And she didn’t actually wink but, you know...

I do actually think she really is interested. In me, I mean. I mean, she must be, mustn’t she?

I hope it’s not just my boobs she’s after though... I mean, it usually turns out that that’s all anyone’s ever really interested in.

No, scrub that too. That’d be fine. I’d take that. I mean, like I said: those long fingers... Oh god...

When she’d gone, I masturbated, right there at my desk. I mean, I was careful, you know—in case someone walked in. But I just had to do it. And by home time I’d done it another couple of times.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me.

But then, it doesn’t feel wrong at all...

Rachel didn’t even ask today; she just came in with: “Coffee for my pet.”

And it was not only the first skirt I’ve seen her wearing, but really quite a short one too. And she has surprisingly great legs.

And, you know, I heard my big mouth saying, “Wow! You have really great legs!”

Idiot.

But she just came straight back with, “Thank you! Would you like to stroke them?”

Now obviously that would have left me speechless. But it was OK because she hadn’t finished.

No, she went on: “With your nails, I mean. Because you know how I liked the feeling of those talons of yours on my hand yesterday. And, well, I really like having my thighs tickled like that.“

And this was just the stupidest thing I’d ever heard of, outside of my dreams.

But the clincher was: “And I know you would really like doing it, too.“

Yeah, well...

So she stood next to me, with her feet apart, you know. And for a while she let me stroke my nails gently across, and up, and down, and around, and between her thighs. She had tights on but, I mean, that didn’t make it any less amazing.

And there was absolutely nothing stupid about it. Nothing at all. I mean, this was serious!

While I was sitting there, leaning forward in my chair, concentrating on doing that—like I was some kind of artist, like I was a musician playing an instrument—she was kind of stroking my hair and my face, and calling me her pet. She said other stuff too I think, but to be honest I was too engrossed in what I was doing.

I can hardly believe it happened.

I don’t even know how it ended. Seriously, I don’t remember.

But I know that if she’d wanted me to, I’d have kept doing it for the rest of my life.

It was amazing. And I can’t help wondering where we go from here. Because this isn’t just me, is it? This is definitely her too. This is both of us.

I went to bed at ten; it’s two-thirty now. And I must say, she’s right about these talons: they do feel great, just gently grazing my clit.

And I just keep coming.

And it’s Henderson tomorrow.

I may have screwed up the Henderson deal. No, I’m certain I have.

I was feeling OK about it—good even—when I came out of the meeting. And then of course, almost as soon as I was back in my office, Chris was there demanding to know how it went.

And I mean, like I say, it had all seemed OK to me; I felt I’d got a good deal when I came out of the meeting. But then, with every question Chris asked me, it seemed like I was giving him the wrong answer. And, I mean, it was like I was hearing those answers for the first time too. And I could see why they were the wrong answers then, but in the meeting it had all seemed different.

I just don’t know what happened.

Chris was really pissed off, I could tell. But I think he could see that I was kind of confused and he backed off. He’s a good man. I probably didn’t deserve that consideration. But then, I really was dazed and confused. I know I messed up; I just don’t know how.

It’s not over, of course. For the rest of the day I felt like I could hear storm clouds gathering outside my office. I don’t think I was just imagining it, although, I mean, I didn’t actually risk sticking my head out of the door to see what was going on. I just know there’ll be ructions tomorrow though.

Rachel dropped by later on in an even shorter skirt, and she was really sweet to me, which I really needed. I pushed my luck and asked if I could stroke her legs again because I was having such a bad day, and she let me. So this is, like, a thing now—our thing.

She stroked my hair again and told me not to worry about my job. She said she’d look after her pet whatever happened.

It’s ridiculous really, but I was genuinely comforted by this. I kind of believed her.

And I think it must have been a way of thanking her for that when I let my hand drift between her legs and up her skirt. Yeah, let’s imagine I was just thanking her...

Anyway, she didn’t stop me.

In my dreams she wouldn’t have been wearing underwear, let alone the tights, but of course, she was. I looked up at her as I drew my nails lightly across her covered pussy and she smiled back at me. I didn’t push it any further than that.

At least she knows now. If she didn’t before, at least she knows now that my interest was sexual, and it was real. Hell, at least I know it too.

In a way, that’s more important than the job. I mean, I really care about the job—of course I do. I think I do, anyway. But, somehow I’m not worried about it. It’s like, I wouldn’t really mind. I mean, if it goes, it goes.

I got the sack, of course.

It wasn’t Chris who did the deed; it was one of the big boys—that donger Donaldson. Chris called him that once and it has always stuck with me. Because it’s accurate. I can barely remember a word he said today though. It was kind of like being with Rachel—only really, really not.

I can’t fight it of course: it was sheer incompetence on my part. I think, perhaps, their real worry is that it was a deliberate act of sabotage. Which is ridiculous, but, I mean, maybe I’d prefer they thought that, rather than have them thinking that I’m just useless.

Chris apologised to me for maybe not having supervised me closely enough. Which was both good of him and horribly patronising. I was almost annoyed with him. I told him that I screwed up, not him. But there was no rancour in it. I was too upset for that. Well we both were.

I didn’t see Rachel. I wasn’t there long enough. And to be honest it was too traumatic a day for me even to think about any of that. I mean, that itch was definitely there but...

Anyway, out of the blue she rang me this evening. I don’t know how she got my number. I was just sitting there staring at the turned off TV and the phone went. I nearly didn’t answer it. But I was really glad I did—really glad. I mean, well, I heard her voice and I kind of just started scratching that itch... just gently, you know.

And it was odd: she didn’t really bother with the sympathy and platitudes; she just invited me over to her house tomorrow afternoon.

And I said, “Aren’t you working tomorrow?”

And she said, “No, I quit.”

I just said, “Oh.”

I figured I could ask tomorrow.

I thought about all the guys at the office being devastated because she wouldn’t be there for them to fantasise about. But I know they weren’t really interested in her. No one was. Only me.

She lives over in the Belmont Road area, which was a bit of a surprise.

My first assumption about tomorrow afternoon was that we’d be spending an hour or two drinking coffee and chatting, like friends do in a crisis. After all, our relationship—such as it was—was built on cups of coffee anyway.

I only remembered later that just yesterday I’d been looking her straight in the eye as I kind of stroked her pussy. I can’t believe I actually did that... I mean, it seemed so natural at the time, but... wow.

And so now I’m not sure at all what we’re going to be doing tomorrow. But I’m interested to find out.

And by interested, I mean that I’m still scratching that itch.

It’s strange, but remembering my visit to Rachel today is like trying to recall a dream. I’m not entirely sure it really happened.

When she met me at the door it felt normal enough. She was very casually dressed—just baggy jeans and an old t-shirt (no bra). And she was barefoot. But even dressed down like that she was still... well, you know, really hot. Maybe even more hot. I mean, as soon as I saw her I had this warm feeling, you know?

I felt a bit overdressed. I guess I was kind of dressed for the office, although the skirt was a little shorter. I don’t know; I never know what to wear. That’s a good thing about working: you kind of know what’s expected. Anyway, it probably didn’t matter.

We kind of hugged at the door, which felt really good—not quite sexual, you know, but exciting.

But it was only when we got inside that I realised that things really had changed. I don’t mean anything bad; I think it’s just that there was no need to pretend anymore.

I think she did know all along how I felt about her. But in the office we had to be professional; it had to be kept below the surface. I mean, me sitting there stroking her legs wasn’t exactly that, but we never said anything, you know?

But now there’s no need for all that. And it was like, she realised that, and I didn’t. She just took the lead. I think she’ll always take the lead.

And maybe that’s why today feels like it was a dream. Because thoughts and ideas that before were only the stuff of my dreams were now the reality. How’s that for a theory? Pretty deep, huh?

But, I don’t know, maybe it’s just that we’re playing a different game now. I’m not sure.

But whether it was real or a game, today I was basically just her whore. And that was all I was. And she wasn’t unkind or cruel, or anything like that. But I was her whore. And I think that maybe that is our relationship now. And I have to say, I mean, it’s weird, but I loved it.

And I made her come!

I licked her pussy and I made her come!

No, I can’t believe it either.

And I mean, it was so casual.

Anyway, this is what I mean about it being different and me not realising. She invited me into the house, and she led me through to the living room, and of course I followed her like this happy little puppy.

Let me just say her house is very nice—all very stylish interiors, you know—but understated. I suppose that’s exactly what you’d expect. But, I mean, she’s obviously well-off. I mean, that was surprising. But it sort of made sense. I mean, she never really fitted that job, but she really fitted that house, you know?

Anyway, in the living room she just took off her jeans, just like that, right in front of me. And she was naked underneath. And she just sat down on the sofa, and she said, “I really need to come. Will you lick my pussy?”

And I mean, it wasn’t like she didn’t know that that was a big thing she’d just done. I mean, she knew. She was sitting there looking... I mean, she wasn’t certain, you know?

And I was... I don’t know... I mean, that was the first thing she said when we got inside. But, I mean, it was what I wanted to do anyway, you know? I mean, it took me a few seconds to kind of get over the shock before I came to that realisation but... Anyway, I didn’t say anything; I just got down between her legs, and I licked her pussy until she came.

I can’t really say any more than that.

I mean, it was just amazing. But it was like, I don’t know... It was like I didn’t exist then. It was like all that existed was her pussy and I was just... I wasn’t anything. I was just a thing that was there to give her pleasure. And, I mean, that’s what I am, I think, maybe. I mean, it was all about her pleasure. But if you’re only thinking about her pleasure, then being there licking her pussy is exactly what you want, you know? Does that make sense? Anyway, I mean, it was the most incredible feeling, being able to do that for her.

And believe me, she really did come. I mean, she really did. So it must have... I must have been of some use to her.

And while I was lapping away, she said things—little words of encouragement. And she called me her little whore, and, I mean, that sounds bad, but I loved it. I absolutely loved it. I don’t think I was much good at it at first, but by the end... well, she came!

It’s OK. The whore thing, I mean. It’s OK. I mean, I don’t understand it. But it’s OK. You don’t have to understand these things, do you? Feelings, I mean.

I mean, the important thing is that I want her to exploit me. I want that. That’s just how it is. It’s like, I have this body and it’s, like, a thing that I want her to use. I mean, it’s the only thing I have to give her that she might possibly want. So it’s hers.

And the amazing thing is that she must have just understood that. She understands how I feel, and what I want, and what I need. And, I mean, how many people would understand that? That alone is amazing. I mean, I don’t understand it for one. And I didn’t have to explain it to her; she just knew. It’s incredible really. She’s so intuitive like that. I’m so lucky.

Still being way behind her, I hadn’t realised that money would be involved. But of course, it makes perfect sense. I mean, I was her whore, right?

At the end of our session, she explained that this first time was free because she knew I hadn’t known what was going to happen, and because I’m not working right now. She said I’d have to pay for my next session, but I wasn’t to worry about the money because it would just sort itself out. I don’t know what that means, but I’m not worried about the money anyway.

I know it’s the wrong way around really—the money thing. I thought that was odd for, like, a second or two because it is the wrong way around. But then I realised that, well, of course I would pay to be her whore. I mean, it doesn’t make sense any other way. So...

She said I wasn’t to worry about work either, which, oddly, I’m really not. Not at all.

She said that Henderson is interested in employing me. We’d have to keep that quiet of course; I can’t very well suddenly appear at Henderson’s having just negotiated that ridiculously favourable deal for them on behalf of another company. But she said he wants to meet me on Monday afternoon to discuss things.

I didn’t realise she was still in communication with Henderson. I should have paid more attention to what she had to say before that deal negotiation...

God, all that seems so long ago!

I mean, that feels like a dream now...

She offered me some advice about how to play this meeting on Monday. She said this isn’t the time to play hard to get or to worry about the details; right now I should be prepared to just give him anything he wants. And I think she’s right about that. I mean I’m not in a strong position right now.

She also said that he’d liked the way I’d presented myself in the meeting. Apparently he even liked these ridiculous nails! Even I’m starting to like them now. Well, maybe. It’s a love-hate thing. We’ll see.

Anyway, this gives you a measure of how great she is and how much she cares about people. She has a friend who runs like a whole, I don’t know, beauty salon place. And she’s booked me in there tomorrow to get me ready for the meeting—her treat! I mean how kind is that?

And she said I should just trust them: “They know what they’re doing. They know what’s right for you. Just let them get on with it.” And that’s fine by me, because all that stuff isn’t really my strongest suit.

At the door she put her hand on my shoulder and said, “I want it to work out for you. You’re doing it for me. You remember that.” And then she gave me just a little kiss on the cheek.

She’s so amazing.

I love her, I absolutely do. No, I mean, I worship her. I adore her.

And even if I’m only fit to lick her pussy... I mean, that’s more than I could have wished for.

I can be incredibly slow on the uptake sometimes.

I walked into this bar in town like we’d arranged, and Henderson was already there with a drink. So I walked over and we said our hellos, and I could tell he was kind of impressed with what they’d done at the salon. I mean, straightaway I could tell that they’d got it right, you know? And I was pleased about that.

And so, anyway, I started to say something about... something... and he just said, “Oh, forget all that. Let’s go to my hotel room first.”

And he left his drink. And we walked across the street to this cheap hotel. And we went up to his room.

And all that time I had no idea what we were going to do. Because I honestly didn’t know what you did in a cheap hotel room, in the city where you live, on a Monday afternoon. Well, I didn’t know what I did, anyway.

But when we got into the room, he just stood there and said, “I’d like you to kneel down in front of me, please.”

And there was this sort of moment where I think I might have been thinking, “What did you just say?!” I mean, obviously, right?

But, I don’t know. It was like one part of my brain didn’t know what was happening and the other part just wanted to get on with it, like there was nothing strange about it at all. Or at least, like it wasn’t up to me to decide what was strange and what wasn’t.

I’m not going to be able to explain any of this, by the way. Just a warning there. I mean I’m trying to make sense of it myself here...

And so, anyway, I mean, I just kind of found myself kneeling there. Which can’t have been that easy to manage in the skirt they gave me at the salon. And... all this is so hard to describe, but even the part of my brain that didn’t know what was going on felt like I’d done the right thing in just doing it and not asking the really obvious questions.

I think maybe by then I was half-expecting it when he said, “Now I’d like you to get my cock out and suck it.”

And when I say half-expecting, I mean pretty much totally dreading. Because if I’d knelt down in front of him without wanting to, and without knowing why, then what else was I capable of doing? Or incapable of not doing.

And... I don’t know what to say.

I mean, I didn’t want to suck his cock. And I’m certain at that point I didn’t feel like I should do that either. But...

It was hard to extricate his cock from his pants because, I mean, he was already getting hard. But when I’d done that, you know, I don’t think I even thought about not sucking it. I just took his cock in my mouth, just like that.

Don’t get me wrong, I mean I still didn’t want to have his cock in my mouth. Just like I didn’t want to swallow his cum like he then told me to be sure to do. I mean I certainly didn’t want to do that.

But what I did want to do—I kind of figured out—was to just do whatever it took to please him. I can’t explain that; I don’t know where it came from. I don’t even like the guy—not really. But I mean, that urge was just absolutely undeniable.

And this was all kind of shocking, and a little bit scary. And at that point I must admit I was really confused.

And, you know, he kind of shocked me because he came pretty quickly then. So suddenly I had, like, these great wads of thick cum really shooting pretty much straight down my throat. And however much I don’t swallow, because I think it’s gross, I was glad that I’d made him come, you know? And I was happy to be swallowing it for him, you know? I mean, I couldn’t not do it, for him. And I kind of wanted him to keep coming just so I could prove to him that I would swallow it.

But of course he didn’t keep coming. And whatever else I was thinking, I’m sure I was happy about that.

And so when he was all done, he asked me to strip, and so I did. And, you know, any time I spent taking my clothes off was time I wasn’t spending swallowing his cum, so weirdly I was almost glad to be doing that. I mean, I didn’t do the whole stripper thing, you know, but I certainly didn’t rush.

Anyway, when I was done, I was standing naked in front of a man who seemed to have some kind of power over me and... it was... I was vulnerable, you know? But also, I mean, I was hoping he liked what he saw.

And I think he did. Certainly he fingered my new nipple and clit rings appreciatively. I was trying not to wince because they’re still tender. But I was really glad the girl at the salon had put them in because although I really hadn’t been sure about them, he clearly really liked them and that made me so happy.

I know how stupid this all sounds, by the way. I do know...

Anyway, he’d already left a briefcase in the room earlier, I think. And in it he had some little chains that he clipped to the rings, and to each other, to form a little network around my body. I mean they were really light, thin chains, you know? I don’t know if it was a fetish thing or just some kind of decoration, but he seemed to like it, and so I liked it too.

I did catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror around then, so I know what...

You know, I think that was a pivotal moment actually.

Somehow I hadn’t realised what I looked like.

I mean at the salon they’d done the whole thing: a new hairstyle, a tan, new nails, even a new outfit. But until that moment I hadn’t realised what they’d done—what they’d turned me into.

I mean, there in the mirror... the piled-up frizzy blonde hair, those claws, the big dangly earrings, the fake tan...

I mean, that was the thing—it was all great, the way it was done. I mean, it was all immaculate. And I’d really appreciated that; I’d been so happy with what they’d done because it was all done so well.

But suddenly seeing it all together like that... I mean, it was ridiculous that I hadn’t realised how overdone everything was, you know?

And I mean, in that room...

I mean, over there was the fucking trouser press. And there was the 50 watt kettle, and the complimentary bone-dry biscuits. And everything was just so... cheap. And right there, in the middle of all that, was just the cheapest whore.

And just to avoid any confusion: I was the whore.

But, I mean, there was confusion for me, because I hadn’t realised that I looked like that, and it was a surprise. And I mean, it took me a second or two to realise it was me.

But up against that, the other thing was this realisation that I looked exactly right—exactly how he wanted. He wanted cheap, tawdry, sordid, whatever. It was like, everything was perfect, really.

And all those little chains added a kind of slave girl effect—I don’t know if that was the intention. Thinking about it, I suppose that’s exactly what I was anyway. I mean it seems obvious now but I didn’t make the connection at the time.

But that’s just it: I didn’t know what was going on. And, yeah, I was a bit confused, and maybe even scared, up to that point. But then with that realisation, such as it was, that I was the whore he wanted, and I was here to please him, I just kind of let go, you know? I mean, you couldn’t see that vision in the mirror and think, “But I’m not a whore!” I mean, seeing is believing, you know?

And anyway I just realised then that whatever was going to happen was going to happen, whether I worried about it or not. I certainly couldn’t stop it, either way. And, I mean, I didn’t want to stop it anyway; I just wanted to please him.

And I saw myself smile then, and using the mirror for guidance, I arched my back a little, to stick my tits out a little more, for him, for his pleasure.

It was about then that he produced a video camera. Not just his phone, you know; this was like a proper thing. And he walked around me, recording me from all angles as I stood there, naked except for those chains.

Then he touched me—just little prods and slaps on my breasts and bum cheeks, recording how they moved, I guess. It made my chains jingle and for some reason I loved that.

I know he was happy because, well, he’d stripped off by now himself—I’m not sure when he did that—but I could see that he was getting hard again. And I was pleased to see that. I mean, I wasn’t pleased to see him naked; let’s be clear about that. I mean, I had no interest in seeing that. But I was pleased to see him getting hard because that was the surest sign that I was pleasing him. And I don’t know what it was but... I just wanted to please him. Do I keep saying that? I think I probably do.

Anyway he told me to get down on my knees again because I needed to “worship his cock”. Like, yeah... But obviously I did get down on my knees—obviously. And I suppose he really must have liked these stupid long nails because he wanted me to just use those to tease his cock. And that made me think of Rachel, you know? And that definitely helped too—remembering her. It was like she was with me somehow. And I’d say that that was when I noticed that I was feeling, like, horny.

And somehow now I wanted to do it; I wanted to get to work on his cock. Because if all you want to do is please a man, and you’re given the chance to touch his hard cock, then you’ll be glad of that chance, right? I mean that does make some kind of sense, right?

And, I don’t know if it was just me, but his cock looked kind of bigger now. I mean, maybe I hadn’t noticed before but it was like this picture of powerful, virile, manhood, you know? I mean it was almost stupidly so. It was totally pumped full of blood and just so hard and the head was so shiny.

And it was like, I just wanted to stroke it, you know, and to please it. And I know that sounds stupid but, I mean, you would have too. I mean, it was just this amazing... thing. And I mean, I knew those balls were full of spunk, and it was my job to tease that big hard cock until all that spunk came squirting out, you know? And I mean, with that cock, I don’t know, it felt like an honour. I mean, I’d have taken it in my mouth again then, or my pussy, or my arse, or any way he wanted. But he wanted me just to use my nails and so that’s all I did.

And so I was just lightly brushing, and stroking, and tickling his cock—teasing him, you know? I don’t think of myself as an expert with all that. I mean, usually it’s just a case of grabbing it and trying to get it over with as quickly as possible. But this was more like the opposite of that, you know? I mean, I was his whore; it was my job to do this.

And I felt like, I don’t know, I mean, I felt like I was really sexy and I was using my sexiness on him, for him, to please him. And I mean, I never feel like I’m sexy, you know? That’s just not... But now I was nothing else—I had nothing else. I was this sexy whore whose only purpose was to tease the spunk out of him.

And somehow it felt like I really knew what I was doing, which I know I really didn’t, but—and I hate to say this, you know—but I kind of enjoyed it. I mean, that cock was just... I mean, anyone would have. And because it was me doing it—it was my performance—it was the closest I felt to being in control with him.

But I wasn’t really in control.

He had me say things: “I’m your whore”; “I love your cock”; “I need your cum”; “Spray your hot sticky cum all over your filthy whore’s tits”. It was all that kind of stuff. I mean, I say he had me say them, but the words came surprisingly easily. And I can’t actually remember him telling me to say them. Anyway, I hope it looked good on the camera—because he was filming this too. I bet it did.

I think I did have to grab it and stroke it a little in the end—the cock, I mean. And I think I licked the head a little too. But that might have been because I couldn’t stop myself, you know? I mean, it was just so... Anyway I do think all that teasing had really got him ready, you know?

Certainly, eventually, he did come all over my tits. And again it came out thick and strong. It’s hard to believe such an odd little man would be capable of producing so much so soon after the first time. Because there was a lot the first time, believe me. So it was really gratifying to think I’d teased all that out of him. I mean, I felt proud, you know? And kind of honoured too to have the spunk from that big cock all over my tits. I mean, I really did feel that way, you know? I honestly did.

He had me lick it all off my tits, of course, which was a little awkward because... well, the chains. But I think I managed to get every drop. And I might have wanted to hesitate—to look less than eager—but I honestly don’t think I did. He wanted a total slut, so he got one.

He did fuck both my pussy and my arse, but he only came in my arse. I’d never even done that before. It hurt like hell, but, you know, if he liked it then I kind of did too. He can’t have had that much cum left in him by then, but, you know, it felt like he’d left plenty in me. And I was glad of that, if I’m honest.

There’s too much stuff to remember. And I don’t like remembering it all.

One thing I can’t forget was kneeling in the shower, telling him what a great deal I’d cut for him because I’d wanted his cock and he was my lord and master, and I was a worthless piece of... well, try and guess. And all the while he was pissing on me! I mean... right? I mean, it was mostly on my tits. And he was recording it. And it was disgusting. And I hated what was happening.

But the thing is, it seemed that the more I didn’t want to do something, because I didn’t like it, the more I enjoyed doing it for him. Because it was when I was doing those things that I really knew for sure that I was doing what I was there to do, which was to give him everything he wanted.

And that’s what I can’t forget: that feeling of having no control, and of enjoying having no control. I’ve never been more turned on with a man. And I mean, it was the same when he was in my arse, you know? I mean, it was just: use me! You know? Just use me!

At the end, after a shared shower that I mostly spent kneeling, bringing him to another, totally dry climax, and after we were both dressed and ready to leave, he handed me one thousand pounds in cash: twenty fifties. And although it made sense, I really hadn’t expected that.

And actually that was just like everything else. I didn’t want to take it because of what it meant. But he was giving it to me, and so I took it and shoved it in my bag as if I did want it. And somehow, taking it felt... appropriate, because I knew that what it meant was actually the truth.

And if I’m honest, what really made taking it feel bad was that I didn’t feel like I deserved it. Because I would honestly have done it all again for him if he’d asked. And I knew I’d have gladly done it for free.

I thought we were going to leave together then, but instead he told me to lie on the floor and masturbate for an hour, thinking about being his obedient slave.

I hadn’t realised he was recording again, but he was, and he recorded me responding to that, just immediately getting down—fully clothed, you know—and starting to do it.

All along, I hadn’t been sure if he knew exactly what was going on—how my mind was working, I mean. But he must have done, because that command was like some kind of feedback loop in my brain: obeying him turned me on; obeying him by thinking about obeying him just... well, I couldn’t stop it.

And he recorded me for a minute or two. I could see at one point he was zoomed in right on my face and so I said something like, “Please, use me again!” And I might have said it to please him, but I mean, I meant it, you know? I mean, that must have been evident in my face, because I wasn’t faking it. So I hope he gets off on that when he watches it back.

But anyway, he didn’t stay much longer. He just left me there, doing that. He just backed out of the room, still recording even as he shut the door behind him. Well, in front of him, really.

I didn’t monitor the time very accurately. I think I must have managed closer to two hours.

I wanted to hate him for doing that to me—well, not just that, but all of it. But I couldn’t hate him. I still can’t. I mean, he just asked me to do those things; it was me who did them. It was me who wanted to do them.

And, I mean, it’s not like it’s going to happen again, you know? I mean, I don’t really understand what happened today but at least it feels like it’s over now. I mean, it’s not like I’m going to see him again. I don’t really know why I agreed to meet him today.

When I got home there was a message from Rachel. That was like a switch somehow: I heard her voice and suddenly everything was real again, and all that stuff with Henderson was like it had just been a dream. I don’t even mean a bad dream: I couldn’t say that in all honesty.

But it was like I just remembered again that I have Rachel. And Rachel is just everything that’s good. And what I feel for Rachel is real. And what I felt for Henderson—whatever that was—suddenly wasn’t. That was just... it was like a game I’d been playing, you know? Well, maybe not quite that. It was a game we were playing, but it was his game. I don’t know. I mean, I think I kind of enjoyed it. Well, some of it. But...

Anyway, I’m seeing Rachel tomorrow afternoon. I can’t wait. She was right! I have money now!

So, yeah, Rachel’s again today!

I wore jeans and a t-shirt this time. Wrong again.

Blend in—that’s my usual approach to fashion. And I was seeing this as me going around to a friend’s house. But of course it isn’t like that at all. We’re not equals. I’m one of Rachel’s girls. I mean, she didn’t say anything but... I don’t know. I’m her whore; I think she’d like me to dress accordingly. I’ll get it right eventually.

Anyway, I had the one thousand in cash from whatsisface still in my bag. I wanted to give it all to her to pay for this—you know, my second session as her whore. But she said I wasn’t to do that.

She said that ordinarily I should only give her thirty percent, although she would take forty this time so she could give a little thank you to her friend at the salon, who had obviously done an amazing job on me.

I really don’t understand this. She hooked me up with... you know, the guy at the hotel; all I did was have sex with him, which obviously was nothing but pleasure for me. It seems to me that she should get all the money. I mean her friend did do an amazing job; that’s fair enough. But, I mean, I’d still wanted Rachel to have it all.

But of course, once she’d told me how much she wanted, I didn’t want to give her any more than that. I think she knows that I want her to have it all anyway, and as long as she knows that... I mean it’s the thought that counts, I suppose.

She apologised for the nipple and clit rings. She said she didn’t normally allow such “disfigurements”, but the client had offered a lot extra for it. She seemed genuinely sympathetic, and I loved her for that, but I said that it was fine because I really liked them. She kind of gave me a look I didn’t really understand, and she said that that was only to be expected. But she told me to strip so she could take a look.

It was the first time she’d seen me naked and I was quite nervous. I don’t think it was such a big deal for her, but then it wouldn’t be—I know that. She did say I have great tits though, and that she’d always wanted to get her hands on them. She played with them for a while, and told me I make a great little whore for her. I mean, I was pretty much coming just standing there!

And she said it really helps that I’m just a total slut too. And, I don’t know, it’s kind of surprising how much I loved to hear her say that. I mean, I think my immediate thought was: no—I’m not a slut! But I realised that that just wasn’t true. I mean you have to let go of that baggage, don’t you? And when I realised that she was right... I mean... well, a lot of things made sense when she said that—a lot of things. It shouldn’t surprise me anymore, but it still does: she understands me better than I do!

Anyway she agreed that the rings could stay, but I might need to remove them for some clients. And I mean, that’s exactly how I saw it too.

I asked her about... oh, something... What was that now...? I’m not sure. Anyway she said I should forget about it, whatever it was. Actually, she said a lot of stuff I don’t remember. No change there then.

The thing about that is, she never wears a bra! And I’ve never seen her tits. I know they’re not that big but it’s plain to see that she has these big fat nipples that I would just love to suck on. And sometimes, when she’s talking to me, I just drift off thinking about licking her tits, and sucking on those big nipples... And I mean, I’ve already licked her pussy of course... And, oh, her bum too, I mean I could just... Anyway, sometimes I suddenly kind of realise that she’s talking and I have no idea what she’s just been saying. But it’s entirely understandable.

I do remember she told me we’d have another session on Thursday, when she’s going to introduce me to another of her girls called Tina. She said I’ll really like Tina because she has big tits like mine, and a “luscious pussy.” Apparently I will find her quite irresistible. I can believe that.

She said that some of her girls really like working together because they just love kissing girls and licking their pussies and tits and arses. And she said that I was definitely one of those girls. And of course she’s right, she’s absolutely right! I’m so glad I found Rachel when I realised I wanted to do this, because she understands me just... well it’s unbelievable.

Anyway, she said there’s a guy who pays really good money to watch a couple of big-titted girls making out while he “empties his balls” all over them. So that’ll be me and Tina on Friday then. You know how it is: you meet a girl on Thursday, and by Friday the two of you are licking some guy’s cum off each other’s tits... Still, Rachel did say I’m going to love licking cum off Tina’s big tits. And I probably will, because, I mean, licking girls’ tits... I mean, what’s not to love? And, I mean, I love the taste of cum too, so...

God, now I’m thinking about being sprayed with hot cum...!

OK, so I don’t really love the taste of cum, you know? I mean, it’s just man-goo, right? I mean, if I’m honest I can’t taste it at all. But... I mean...

Well, look, you want the guy to come, right? I mean, that’s what you’re there to do. That’s what you’re for. I mean, his spunk is what it’s all about really. So I mean, if I can really make him come... I mean, the more there is... you know? I mean, it’s a compliment really. And if he wants me to swallow it... I mean, it’s whatever he wants, right? That’s what I’m for—to be or to do whatever he wants. I mean, OK, being a total slut probably helps with that...

But, so, anyway, it’s not the cum; it’s what the cum represents. That’s why I love it. It’s kind of like you’ve won, you know? Only you both win.

And I mean, when it comes down to it, it’s all just a game really, you know? I know it is. And you do have to remember that; you can’t take it too seriously. I mean some people wouldn’t see it as a win, kneeling there with your face plastered in jizz, or whatever. I know that. But, I don’t know... I just... I mean, that’s what I want, you know? I just do. So, I mean, I just love the game, you know? Maybe it’s just because I’m good at it.

You know, I keep remembering this image of me looking at myself naked in a mirror somewhere, I don’t remember where. But, I have a great pair of tits, you know? I mean, I’ve always known that. But I think, maybe, my bum is pretty good too? And what I mean is, I don’t want to sound bigheaded, but I see that image in my head and I have to say I look pretty hot, you know? And I do go that extra mile, with the nice hair, just the right jewellery, the perfect nails—all those things can really make a difference.

I suppose what I’m saying is, I bet Tina will want to lick my tits and my pussy and my arse, because I know I would do if I were her! But seriously, more than that... I don’t know what I’m saying here but... a body like this... I mean, I just keep thinking about... Well, I mean, I just hope people are going to want to keep using it forever, you know? I mean, I really want them to. Something beautiful should be shared, I think, and... well, I don’t want anything else, so...

Does that sound stupid? I don’t know. I’m probably not explaining it very well. It’s a feeling, not an idea, you know?

Rachel said something too... something about... I don’t know. But I keep thinking about chains, and straps, and leather. It’s odd, I suppose. I mean, I’ve never really thought about all that bondage stuff—I mean, what’s all that about, right? But I keep thinking, if I were all... trussed up, you know? If I were just held... wide open... a guy could just do what he wanted—just use me, you know? And he’d know that he could. I mean, there wouldn’t be any doubt about it. He could just slide into me, any way he wanted. And I still don’t get bondage, but if it could somehow turn me from this person—this woman—into a thing—a thing you just fuck, a thing you can just use—then that would... I don’t know, make it all less complicated maybe. And Rachel might have said... something... some guy... maybe next week? Or did she say guys...? I don’t know. But I keep thinking about that too...

My mind’s all over the place at the moment. But it’s good; I like it. It just means life’s exciting, you know? Everything’s good right now.

Anyway...

Oh, Rachel said I wasn’t to worry about paying for Thursday’s session with her, because Tina will be paying for that one. So no sneakily giving her more of the money from that bloke at the hotel then! She’s determined for me to keep it, which is fine, really.

I mean, it’s not like I don’t have bills to pay. And I was thinking I might try to get to that salon again tomorrow. I mean, I do need to keep myself looking good.

I’ve been thinking about lingerie, and stockings and suspenders—you know, all that stuff. I really love all that but, incredibly, when I looked this evening I found I haven’t actually got any. I think the girl at the salon who sorted out my outfit for yesterday’s little assignation was called Heather. I might have a word with her about it. I mean, I may be a slut but I have to be a classy slut.

And besides, on Saturday there was a girl there who did my nails and, I mean, I’ve been thinking about it, and I think she looked... interested, you know? I think so anyway. And I mean, I did notice some of the other girls, with the other clients, you know... touching. And I mean, that’s fine—they all know what they’re doing there; they know what’s best for their clients. I mean, they’re the professionals; you just let them get on with it.

But, you know, if she’s there, I really want to let her know that, if she wants to... I mean it’s all here just waiting to be touched, you know? I just want her to know that she can, that’s all. So I might ask her to just make sure my nails are fine, you know? And then see if she wants to... you know. And she had nice tits too. And, I mean, if she wanted me to give those a little attention...

I’m wandering again. Getting back to today... Right... Yeah...

So all this talk about the future was very exciting, obviously—I mean, as much as anything, I just love listening to Rachel’s voice. And I just know I’m going to love Tina too. But I was feeling a little frustrated by now. And I don’t think Rachel minded too much when I asked her if she was going to want me to lick her pussy today at all. She just smiled and said, “Oh, of course,” and she took off her jeans, just like that!

Feeling a little bolder, I dared to ask, “Would you take your t-shirt off as well?”

I didn’t actually say I was desperate to lick her tits but, you know, I think she could see the need in my eyes because, ever-so kindly, she said, “Next time. Maybe next time.”

So she didn’t say no! And as I got down to work on that beautiful pussy, I don’t think I’ve ever felt so grateful.