Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
New Superstar KAYLEIGH
Weight: 98 pounds
Age: 18 (birthdate: Dec. 4, 1999)
My name is Kayleigh and I’m a newcummer to the brothel scene. I just graduated from high school in June 2018 and am working here in Flagstone, Nevada at Happy Ending Ranch! I’m chill and laid-back, so it would be easy for you as a client to feel comfortable with me.
I am and always will be a California Girl at heart. I love to go off-roading in the desert and all things outdoors such as boating, swimming, hiking, and rock climbing. I enjoy roller skating, too (though I’m not any good at it and usually wind up falling on my butt).
I’m also a girl who LOVES sex. Call me a nympho if you must :), but I’m super passionate when it comes to pleasures of the flesh. I love to role-play and dress up in different outfits, so can be anyone you want me to be. Would you like your own personal cheerleader? How about a maid who can’t seem to get the job done and needs a little … discipline? I have an open mind and am willing to try creative, unusual positions.
I cater to both men and women, especially couples, and the disabled. One-on-one is my favorite, though. I’d love to pamper and spoil you rotten during our date. I want to be that release for you, that escape from reality. Let me soothe away your stress from work or be a getaway from an unfulfilling life at home. My lone objective is to bring you satisfaction and the experience of a lifetime.
Call our office at 775-xxx-xxxx if you’d like to schedule an appointment with me. I’ll be ready and waiting for your arrival. Or walk in off the street. Either is fine, and totally up to you.
Can’t wait to hug and kiss on you!!!
* * *
This is insane.
After returning from Oakfall an hour ago, Lindsay’s eyes were about to burst as she sat cross-legged on the bed and stared at her iPad. Frazzled, she didn’t know what to think of the website profile Jim created for her last evening. He asked a few questions about her outside interests and used the answers to piece together this “biography.” He even made it seem like Lindsay (ahem, Kayleigh) wrote it herself.
It makes me look like a slut. While that was Lindsay’s initial, knee-jerk reaction, she reminded herself of something — I am a slut. Did she have any justification to complain about the way the page portrayed her? This isn’t Tuesday night mass at Sacred Heart. I’m a sex worker in a brothel now.
Lindsay explained her lack of sexual experience during the interview with Colt and Pamela yesterday, and thought she’d made the point perfectly clear. I’ve been with two guys in my life! That’s it! She even spoke about it with Jim during their road trip. Pamela, in comparison, had been with thousands of men and hundreds of women. Get it straight: there is no comparison between her and me.
But according to the website, Lindsay loved to dress up as a cheerleader? She used to be on a regional squad, sure, but had never worn her uniform while having sex. Such an idea had never crossed her mind until now.
A maid that needs discipline? To Lindsay, the write up made it seem like she was begging to be spanked and roughed up by total strangers. While she enjoyed (and needed) a good spanking from time to time, inviting random keyboard commandos from the Internet to give her one wasn’t something she thought she’d ever do.
I love being with couples, too? While the thought of taking part in a threesome sent both her imagination and libido soaring, Lindsay hoped her first time with another woman didn’t take place during a party. That would be wrong on so many levels. She’d been bi-curious for a long time and wanted her first girl-girl experience to be special. OhmiGod, I’d give anything for it to be with Pamela!
Lindsay catered to the disabled, too? That’s a new one. She wondered if guys actually showed up at the house in wheelchairs wanting to get fucked. Was that a common occurrence? How about war veterans with missing limbs? Burn victims? The mentally handicapped?
Hmm, why wouldn’t they? Aren’t they entitled to pleasure, too? Would those unfortunate souls with more extreme disabilities have a nurse or handler who’d assist them with getting into position on the bed for a comfortable lay? I sure wouldn’t be able to do that myself; I don’t want to hurt anyone. Lindsay shuddered at the thought.
I have to learn to be nonjudgmental and have an open mind about everything. This was what she wanted, right? Lindsay wanted this job. She’d chosen it following months of research. To get escort izmir fucked for a living. There were going to be many unique things she saw and did here, whether it be cosplay dress up and sex with a quadriplegic or getting her ass spanked by Dirty Grandpa from West Virginia.
Pamela promised me one hundred percent safety and security as long as I’m here. Said that “unfavorable incidents” with customers are very rare and taken care of swiftly by management. Lindsay convinced herself that there was no reason to be apprehensive. The sheriff’s station is just down the street. No client was going to rough her up too badly during one of those spankings, right?
But those pictures … ugh. It would be awful if anyone from Citronelle ever stumbled across them. My family, my friends, teachers from school. Half of the photographs were nice and G-rated, but in the rest of them, Lindsay looked like a struggling, low-rent porn actress spread across the pages of a filthy magazine ready to bang.
What if someone from back home shows up one day looking for a GFE with me? Perhaps her former history and math teacher, Mr. Zeigler, would offer $500. That’d be awkward, even though Mr. Zigs was kind of cute. Zack, Lindsay’s ex-boyfriend? I’d tell him to fuck off. Or how about the pervy neighbor, Rich Foster, who’d been shamelessly ogling Lindsay from his window whenever she sunned herself at her backyard pool in recent months? Big Dick loved taking pics of me in all my bikinis. By now, Lindsay imagined Mr. Foster had an entire portfolio stashed away, hidden from his wife, on a flash drive.
That old man was a total creep. But Lindsay couldn’t deny it, either: having those pictures taken voyeur-style and offering the man a little wet ‘n wild show gave her an undeniable rush.
It made her pussy wet, too.
Yesterday, Colt insisted Lindsay venture down to the recreation room with Jim in the early evening hours for a photoshoot. The bio page on the website, he claimed, wouldn’t serve any purpose unless it included pictures.
The shoot was far from professional as Jim took snaps of Lindsay with his cell phone. She wore a variety of outfits, some sexy and some not, and most on loan from Pamela. Riley let her borrow a trench coat and she modeled in it, too. Things transitioned outdoors and eventually to Lindsay’s bedroom, and Jim kept taking pictures.
Colt was adamant about there being nude shots, too. That’s where things got a little dicey. Lindsay felt nervous getting naked as a jaybird for Jim, a man three times her age, and one she’d met for the first time earlier in the day. This isn’t like Big Dick taking random pics of me in my bikini from his window. No, these were full-on nudes.
But Jim made the modeling session easy, like when he searched her backpack and came across those sex toys. He showed the emotional investment of a bored house cat as Lindsay stripped down to her rawest form and showcased herself for the world to see.
In the end, Lindsay didn’t have a problem getting naked for Jim. That turned out to be the easy part. Instead, she was concerned about having explicit photographs of herself floating around in cyberspace.
Once it’s on the Internet, it’s there forever. Even if the pics got taken down later tonight and no one downloaded a single copy, there would still be ways for people to find them twenty, thirty, even fifty years from now.
As well as tomorrow.
What if someone tries to use them against me in the future? Blackmail me, even? While the thought was a bit paranoid, it was still a legitimate worry, but Lindsay decided she’d have to cross that bridge when (or if) she ever came to it. There’s no need to worry about it now. These pics are a necessary sacrifice.
Wanting Lindsay to be comfortable, Jim encouraged her to take several breaks during the shoot and had her cover up with a robe. He kept her hydrated with bottled water and made certain she had access to a variety of snacks.
Jim probably takes pics like this of every new girl since he seems to be the one in charge of the website. Lindsay didn’t mind. It’s not like he’s an old horndog who’ll go home later and jack off to the images in his private time. But she wouldn’t have any objections if he did.
Jim assured Lindsay that this was the best thing she could do to build her business, or in his words, her brand. It was crucial. The website received thousands of hits every day from people all over the globe. Potential clients would see Lindsay’s page and want to book parties with her because of it.
Lindsay stared at a photograph of her on the loveseat (naked, of course) with a beaming smile and holding a massive four-foot-long teddy bear like it was a birthday present. In reality, it was Pamela’s most prized, cherished possession — Beary Potter. Jim photoshopped all my izmir escort bayan pubic hair away, too. Damn! No tan lines, either … I look freakin’ hot!
Lindsay had to stifle a naughty laugh. Maybe Big Dick will add all these to his collection and come knocking here one day with thousands of dollars in cash for me. Come to think of it, perhaps having these photographs on the Internet wasn’t such a bad thing after all. I have the feeling this page is gonna make me a lot of money.
Lindsay glanced around her private bedroom. This is my new home now. It had a king-size bed, a fifty-five-inch flat-screen television, a reclining chair, a study area with a desk, a small kitchenette, and a tabletop refrigerator. The room was otherwise bare and had no personality but was Lindsay’s to decorate as she saw fit. She purchased a couple of items to jazz things up earlier in Oakfall but hadn’t pulled them from the bags yet.
This bed is huuuuuge. Lindsay had slept in a twin-size for as long as she could remember, so her new bed was a significant upgrade. The television was bigger than the one her mother and father had in their family room back home in Citronelle. In Lindsay’s old bedroom, she had a twenty-nine-inch tabletop. That thing is older than I am.
There was a lone window, but it was on the far wall and had bars over it. Reminds me of a prison cell. It was an added layer of security, though the window overlooked the backyard outside. It was enclosed and walled-off, so Lindsay thought the bars were overkill. Good luck to any intruder who tries to bust in. Ain’t happening. Little touches like this seemed to reinforce Pamela’s promise about how vital employee safety was to management.
In front of the bed, a sealed box had seventy-five cases of condoms in it. Lindsay was stunned when Pamela first explained its contents to her yesterday. A regular person wouldn’t need anywhere close to this many condoms in their lifetime, but they were gone through like popcorn at a movie theater here at Happy Ending Ranch. Cleanliness was important, and Pamela told Lindsay it wasn’t uncommon for her to cycle through up to five condoms an hour with a client.
There were also several cases of personal lubricant and dental dams. Pamela had to explain their use because Lindsay didn’t have the slightest idea what they were. “Dental dams are a thin square of material that acts as a barrier between a person’s mouth and another person’s genitals.” Many working girls used them if a client wanted to go down on them and perform oral sex. Made of polyurethane, dental dams looked like a small wet wipe but were dry like a paper towel.
“Some girls are extra cautious and don’t feel comfortable exchanging bodily fluids with their clients, and these give us another layer of protection,” Pamela said. “Personally, I’m one of them. I don’t mind kissing — to an extent — but I always insist on clients using dental dams.
“There’s one man I’ll make an exception for — one client, I mean — and his name is Corey. He lives in Indianapolis. He’s the sweetest guy and has been here an umpteen number of times over the past seven or eight years, and always just sees me. No one else. We share e-mail every single day, and he sends me random gifts pretty much every week without fail. Corey was a virgin when we first met, and I’m still the only woman he’s ever been with. I know things are safe with him. He’s clean.”
Sounds like you have a special provider-client relationship with Corey. Lindsay was already jealous. I bet you’re the best, most considerate courtesan in the entire LPIN system. Lindsay smiled and felt captivated by Pamela and her cheery disposition and sweet, spiritual soul. No doubt, she was one-of-a-kind. I bet you make all these guys feel like a million bucks.
Perhaps if she rented out her body enough times, Lindsay could develop something unique with a client, too. I’d love for someone to send me gifts every week.
“Colt doesn’t require the use of dental dams during parties, but I recommend them. I wish he required them. I’d hate for someone’s life to be ruined.”
Lindsay didn’t know if she liked that idea or not. Every man already must wear a condom for both vaginal and oral sex in a brothel. State law mandated it. But sucking cock with a condom over top of it? Wow … unique. Lindsay craved the taste of cum and was looking forward to swallowing copious amounts of it while working here but wasn’t permitted to by law. That was a shock and an unexpected letdown. If I do, I’ll get in trouble, and Colt will fire me on the spot.
Fuck it. Lindsay decided she wouldn’t require any client to go down on her with a dental dam. Contracting an illness at a brothel, she’d read, happened once in a blue moon. Pamela is being way too cautious, but that’s her right, her decision. Me? Customers can have at my pussy. izmir escortlar In Lindsay’s mind, oral sex was meant to be enjoyed with no obstacles getting in the way. Licking pussy through a paper towel? Disgusting! I’d never ask anyone to do that.
While the overanxious turnout filled out legal paperwork yesterday afternoon, Pamela sat close by and spoke about the expectations of being a “Happy Ending Girl.” She also stressed how important it was for Lindsay to maintain a barrier between herself and the customer at all times.
“But you cannot let the customer know a barrier exists. It must be invisible. You must treat every customer like they’re the king or queen of the world. Your entire focus must be on them at all times and whatever they desire. Your own pleasure is secondary. Colt will tell you it doesn’t even matter.”
“Like Scarlett and the guy who says he wants to leave his wife and marry her? Randy’s his name, right? Scarlett had some serious barriers up, it seemed, but I didn’t notice them until after the guy walked away.”
“Exactly,” Pamela said. “Amy provides Randy love, pleasure, and companionship. It’s her job.”
“She’s being paid to provide a service. But Randy is so taken with Scarlett, I mean, not Amy, and this happens to many of our customers — he cannot see reality.”
Oh, that’s right; I remember now. Amy was Scarlett’s real name.
“In many ways, it’s what we strive for as sex workers, as it equates to more money. Randy is in love with Scarlett because all he sees when they’re together is a gorgeous, vibrant girl young enough to be his daughter.
“Scarlett is submissive, she’s attentive, and hangs on his every word like he’s the most important man in the universe. She caresses and consoles him, lets him vent all his frustrations about work and an unhappy marriage at home. In bed, she allows him to do things to her that his wife would never even consider. Whatever he asks, really. And the whole time? Scarlett has a loving smile across her lips, like she’s having the time of her life.”
“Scarlett doesn’t have any feelings for him in return, you said?”
“No. The only feelings Scarlett has for Randy is he’s a returning customer — a regular. He’s easy money. Randy gets on her nerves sometimes by talking about getting married and having kids, but she puts up with it. She allows it. Randy enjoys fantasizing out loud.”
“And he doesn’t know Scarlett is engaged?”
“No. No way.” Pamela gave an agitated little frown, but Lindsay couldn’t figure out why. “Scarlett lives back east in Cincinnati with her fiancé, Jason, and her son, Aaron, and commutes here every three weeks for work. She’s always on the phone with them.
“She says she has another two years left in the sex trade because she wants to build up more savings. Then she’ll retire and focus on Jason. Wants to settle down and have another kid or two, you know? Being faithful in the past was difficult because Scarlett loves sex and has an addiction to it. But after working here for a couple of years, she says she can do it. She’s ready to be faithful.
“Working in a brothel diminishes one’s sex drive … a lot.” Pamela made a cynical face. “You learn to focus and be loyal to those who are good to you if you’re fortunate enough to have someone special in your life — a boyfriend, husband, girlfriend, or whatever. This job, believe it or not, has brought Scarlett and her fiancé closer together.”
How old is Scarlett’s son? While she didn’t appear to be any older than twenty-five, Lindsay heard a rumor that the son was twelve and assumed Scarlett could be in her early to mid-thirties because of it. I’d never guess Scarlett is that old, but really, would it be a surprise if she is? Riley had no reason to lie about the son’s age, right?
In this business, women had the tendency to approach their appearance the way most people did their job — they worked it. Like Pamela, Scarlett exercised religiously, had an awesome tan, and spent a fortune on health and skincare products. But apparently that wasn’t enough, because Lindsay also heard through the Riley grapevine that Scarlett had her breasts augmented and nose redone.
Lindsay recalled a tweet from a sex worker who insisted her continued success stemmed from treating her body as if it were a home renovation project. Some things she could fix herself. Others required professional help. But every aspect had to be in showpiece, open house condition.
I’ve seen pics of sex workers on Twitter who are in their fifties yet don’t look a day over twenty-one. If Scarlett was in her thirties, as Riley indirectly led Lindsay to believe, hard work, a healthy diet, and a fair amount of plastic surgery had knocked a good ten years off her age. Maybe that’s something I need to consider in the future. I hate it that my boobs are so small.
“But when Scarlett is with Randy,” Pamela kept talking, “he tells her he loves her. She will reciprocate and tell Randy that she loves him, too. He’s her favorite customer and always looks forward to seeing him.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32