The sun is hot on my brow as myself and Julia sit outside on the terrace of an exclusive restaurant on the Kings Road, a cool glass of chardonnay is poised beside her as she reclines in her chair, lifting her face to the sun invitingly.
Shading my eyes I peer at the menu. Slow roasted belly of pork with chatenay carrots, colcannon mash and a cranberry-honey glaze. I smile, delighted. It’s a far cry from the types of meals I have been served, as a child living with my birth mother I have vague memories of the taste of stale bread rolls tinged with white mould and to this day I avoid bread altogether; my adoptive mother was not much more generous. After prayer time, gloopy tomato soup and crackers was served. Meat was deemed ‘extravagant’ and every night I would go to sleep with my stomach growling beneath the blankets.
Once I stepped onto the sumptuous, luxurious Chelsea scene I was amazed at the food, how divinely it was presented and how painstakingly it was prepared. Quickly, I learnt which restaurants were deemed chic, and which foods to eat made me seem instantly elegant. This came in handy when clients took me out; swiftly, I could order, undeterred by the foreign languages and strange combinations of food. With these tools at my disposal, I could almost pass as a lady.
Tempting
I look up from the menu and bite my lip. Still undecided. Confit of duck served with a pomegranate and red cabbage salad. Tempting.
“Julia, what are you ordering?” Julia turns slowly, begrudgingly to look at me as if I am a small child hanging off its mother’s arm.
“Nothing, darling. Just the wine.”
I sigh. Again. Julia seems to live off wine, olives and cereal bars. No wonder her figure is so slight. Apparently, it is chic to be so thin. I find it unnatural. I stare down at my generous breasts and decide to order fillet steak.
“I keep telling you, Jules. You need to eat proper food.” Julia huffs at me and takes a prolonged sip of her wine.
“And why do you need to keep telling me? I told you, my mother was a catwalk model, it was unacceptable to be fat, curvy or even have a bottom in my house. I just don’t have a fat woman’s appetite.” She says, and then eyes me knowingly as she watches me summon the waiter and order steak and chips.
“Nor do I.” I counter, sulkily.
“Anyhow,” Julia says, sitting up properly to face me, she removes her Prada sunglasses in order to regard me. “Any news from Amos?”
I drop my eyes to the floor and a pained expression falls over my features. Amos is a regular client of mine, he is from the Arab Emirates and comes to London whenever business calls him, which seems to be more and more of late. He has been breeching the subject of me modelling for some friends of his, but being my usual untrusting self, I was treading cautiously, due to rumours of sex trafficking, kidnap and sex slaves being bought across from the UK.
“What?” Julia demands, shocked at my reaction. “What’s wrong?”
I tap my nails on the stem of my glass of wine. “Ok.” I hesitate, gathering my long hair off my neck and tossing it over my shoulder. “First of all, he has spoken to me about some other types of work.”
“Such as…” Julia calls impatiently, like a cat calling outside a locked door.
“Modelling, really. He has some good connections. But what I am most concerned about is that his behaviour seems to be changing. He is becoming possessive, almost aggressive, much more domineering over me.”
Julia nods while I speak, absorbing my words. “Has he spoken of a future together?”
“No.” I say simply.
“Then I do not see any threat. He is not interested in making you his woman, he is just becoming more attached to you. It’s common. How do you feel about it?”
“Julia, you know I never have any intention of being anybody’s full time escort. Ever.”
Julia looks disapproving and as usual rolls her eyes to show her annoyance.
“So, what do I do?” I implore.
“You don’t see him for a while. When he calls you, you are booked up. That will sever any ties growing, he will realize you are not a girlfriend.”
I decide Julia is right. The next time Amador rings me, I will be unavailable to him.
“That sounds perfect.” I say. “Thank you for your wisdom, whore mummy.”
Julia laughs, all at once her hard features soften into dimples and perfect white teeth, she swishes me away. “I am officially flattered by that title. It’s just a shame I hate children.” We hold hands and giggle.
The Cadet
Another Tuesday night, another Cadet. You could always be guaranteed to find a cadet for business if you were ever short of money. The insatiable creatures were also a sure thing; they never seemed to be able to last long which was always a bonus. If you could cut your time down and make the same amount of money, you were laughing.
This cadet fumbled at his trousers with shaky, nicotine stained fingers and eyed me as if I was possibly the first woman he had ever seen naked. Perhaps I was. You never knew with soldiers.
Sixteen and they were shipped off, barely time to erupt into puberty and they were locked up with thirty men as company and burgeoning erections that no amount of masturbating could silence.
As soon as they arrived back on England’s fair soil, they weren’t only in the mood for a cup of English tea.
My nakedness it seemed was enough to make this one want to spill his juices. I positioned myself on the bed, breasts bare with my head resting on my arms in a nonchalant, unknowing way, as if I didn’t know the effect I was having.
An Interesting Request
“Please, bend over for me.” The serviceman said hungrily. At last. He had made up his mind. I position myself on all fours on the bed, and his eyes look as if they wanted to jump from their sockets. He comes behind me, touching me with his fingertips and running his hands over my bare buttocks, pushing two fingers into the delicate crease of my ass.
“Both holes?” Asks the soldier pleadingly. I groan inwardly.
“£350.” I say simply. I calculate from experience the encounter will be over in a millisecond so it will be worth it. No lubricant handy, I will just have to pray I am able to become wet enough so it doesn’t hurt too much.
The cadet grins darkly from ear to ear and lays a wad of notes on my bedside table.
“Done.” He says and with that he slams into me. I am shocked that he has chosen to penetrate my ass first and the pain is excruciating. Involuntarily I gasp and bite my lip in pain.
That little fucker.
The soldier moans with delight and grinds his surprisingly considerable erection deeper into me, I clench my buttocks in agony and try to remain like an intoxicated sex kitten, buttocks in the air, pouting, engrossed in the ecstasy. He grabs my hips and moves his cock over and over again inside me, I can feel him stretching my hole, filling me and he groans in delight as he sees me writhe beneath him. Suddenly he releases his cock and fumbles with it.
“Suck me.” He orders. I am surprised. I mistook this baby faced soldier for an inexperienced unworldly creature. On all fours I crawl over and begin eating his cock, tasting the saltiness of myself on him. He watches me, eyes brimming with desire as I pour my lips around him, squeezing my lips tight and bringing the cock deep into my throat. “Deeper.” He growls with dark unblinking eyes.
You little bastard.
I force him deeper into my mouth so that my nose touches the wiry hair on his stomach and gasp for breath as I release myself, dribble soaking my chin. He smiles, then gestures with his hands again for me to turn back around. Cheeky bastard. I say to myself, and a sliver of amusement reaches my lips as I realize that looks can indeed be deceiving.
Slowly, he comes towards me on his knees, his erection displayed, almost visibly throbbing with ecstasy. He presses his palms to my thighs to hold them wider, stroking my pussy and groaning as he sees my juices spilling.
Into My Pussy
He inserts his penis into my juice and madly pounds me ‘like a salvation army drum’ I repeat Julia’s much repeated sentiments to myself with some lingering amusement as I watch him go into some sort of crazed jack rabbit type motion, he grabs my thighs and works his penis into me over and over until he takes his cock out and then with a brawny hand grabs my head and explodes his semen all over my face with a deafening, relieving, releasing groan.
His eyes dance in the moonlight as he admires his handiwork. The soldier’s sticky mess has covered my nipples, my stomach and my cunt. My face is soaked. Cheeky little fucker.
I glance over at the rolled notes on the bedside table and doubt whether this particular session was worth the money.
“I don’t need to remind you that you owe me more for the third entry. We spoke of this.” I say breathlessly as if I am chiding a small child and I fight the urge to wag a finger at the red faced client. He looks at me momentarily in defiance and then counts out a few more notes onto my bedside table.
“I thought you might like the element of surprise. Besides, a first time discount would be a nice gesture.” He says shortly, running a hand across his face to catch the beads of sweat. I finally begin to realise the lad is an experienced one in the world of escorts.
“Kiddo, I am sure you got quite enough for your money.” I say, my hand reaching between my legs to soothe the aching. He watches me as I gather up the notes and slip them beneath my mattress. Kiddo nods in agreement and smiles broadly.
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Since then, he has specialised in articles on the battle for equal rights for sex workers, sexual health, as well as bringing the readers fun news from around the world. He also has a major interest in LGBT rights, and is an active campaigner in this field.
When he isn't fighting the good fight, he enjoys spending time with his girlfriend, and young daughter. He also enjoys reading and taking long walks.
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- International BDSM Day: A Day of Deviance and Delight! - July 24, 2023
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