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I’m back in the crazy zone as he slams into me, my soul flying high. I use every bit of strength in my trained pussy to squeeze his cock tight through the pain, and I feel on top of the world as he gives it to me. His hips slam hard and he curses as he unloads, leaving his thick cream inside to ease my pussy, and the joy I’m feeling at making Master come is another heady zone altogether.
The atmosphere in the room changes in a flash, bodies shuffling and getting out of the way before Master catches his breath.
“Stay still,” he says, pulling out of me.
I’m panting like a bitch, trembling and burning up, but I do as I’m told, wondering what the fuck he’s going to do next as I hear him moving about, imagining two fists in the pussy – is that even possible?
I feel him back next to me, kneeling by my thigh. “Some cooling relief,” he says and fuck how I jump when he douches me. Squirt after squirt of cold water fills me up and I push it out on instinct.
“Thank you, Master,” I say as he keeps on going, moaning at the relief as the fire inside weakens to a throb.
Finally, he helps me to my feet.
“Don’t take your hood off.”
“I won’t,” I tell him.
I guess it must be over. I’m not sure if I want it to be.
“Thank you, Master,” I say again.
“You did well, Holly,” he says and holy fucking shit, how it hurts as he unbinds my tits. I cross my arms over my chest, knowing I’m going to be feeling it for days, but he doesn’t stop me from covering myself. I’m not told to put my hands down by my side.
“There will be a drink in the back seat of the Bentley for you,” he says. “The hood is big enough that you can untie it and drink without having to take it off.”
It’s only then that I realise how parched I am. Exhausted, battered, breathless and desperate for a drink.
“Please be aware you’ll take some time to recover from this. There will also be some ointment next to you in the back seat of the Bentley. It will ease any nettle symptoms, so use it liberally.” He pauses. “It won’t have the same effect on your other wounds, though. They will need a different kind of care and attention.”
I laugh under the hood, high as a kite on endorphins.
“Yeah, I, um, expect that might be the case.”
“You may well need to postpone one or two of your proposals, actually. The games became especially heated,” he says, and I can tell his eyes are roving all over me. “Don’t worry, we can handle that for you. Please just mark out your calendar availability on the app, and I’ll have Orla reorganise your schedule. We’ll reimburse you for the lost opportunities.”
“On top of sixty grand? Seriously?” I feel surprisingly at ease as I speak to him. “Really, Master, you don’t have to do that. You’ve given me enough already.”
“No, Holly. You’ve earnt your fee. That’s a different thing entirely.”
I get a weird rush of pride.
I did it. I made it through every fucking minute, even when I wanted to buckle and run.
“Let me get the butler to accompany you,” he says, and I get the closest thing to morning after syndrome I’ve felt in a while.
I have so many questions I want to ask him, and as for this hood – it would be so tempting to pull it off right here and now.
But that’s not what entertainers do. We’re professionals, here to do a job. I’ve done mine now, and it’s time to go home.
I wish I’d have picked PJs to wear instead of tight-fitting PVC and stilettos when the butler comes to collect me and takes me away to get me dressed. Damn it, it feels like I’m wrapped in plastic, pressing on raw, wounded skin. He tries to be gentle, but there is no way. I grapple with the zip myself, to get it done and over with.
It’s a lot less comfortable a ride on the way home than it was on the way to the proposal. Understatement of my lifetime.
Sure enough, I find a bottle of water, and a tub which must be ‘ointment’. I manage to take a swig of water while still leaving my hood on, and fight the urge to attempt to use my phone in my hood as well. I really want to send Josh a D&S message after that performance. He must be worried sick about me, since there’s no way he didn’t know the scale of what these guys wanted or where the fuck they were taking me. Tiff must have given him a rundown after her go with them. Hers must have been at least as hardcore as mine, and I bet she’s done more of them. I wonder just how far they’ve pushed a vixen like her…
Hmm. Maybe I’ll get to find out for myself.
I can hope.
