Page 31 of Bully

I loved the power that came with it.

“Exactly,” Crystal nodded and then pointed to my pink robe. “You won’t be needing an outfit. He had one delivered ten minutes ago. It’s to die for. I hung it in the private room he booked for you downstairs. My team is already moving one of the privacy benches down there and getting it all set up.”

“That’s absurd.” Val groaned from beside me with comical jealousy on her face. “It’s like he knows she’s a slut for expensive gifts and glory holes.”

“Yeah,” I mused, staring at my reflection in the mirror, trying to tamp down my excitement for the night. “Seems like it.”

Myskinfeltelectrified;as if the air had a current to it, flowing over my pores with a rhythm that matched the erratic beating of my heart. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been so overwhelmingly excited about a gig.

Sex work had its ups and down, and I had experienced a lot of them over the years. But for me, I always got a high on a job. Even if I didn’t enjoy the sex specifically, the entire experience gave me a rush, and I was hardly ever left unsatisfied when I was done.

Orgasms rarely happened for me at work, but I didn’t need them during the act itself to feel fulfilled.

I had a vibrator and a tentacle dildo at home for that.

At work, I got high on the sex appeal and the power exchange that occurred. A man might hire me so he could feel like a badass and in charge, but the same thing happened night after night.

I left with a purse full of cash and a buzzing in my veins. And the man left empty handed.

I was the winner.

Every time.

Tonight, it was no different, yet it was completely different at the same time. Tonight, it felt bigger somehow. It felt like the high was stronger. Maybe it was the entire work up to the gig, and then finding out I was privately booked. Or maybe it was the way the John had provided the entire ensemble and vibe of the night himself.

It felt—thoughtful?

Intentional?

I didn’t know.

It didn’t matter because someone purchased my body and booked my time. And I was fucking dripping with excitement from it all. I really hoped the man could fuck. In very un-Sloane like fashion, I wanted to come.

God, I wanted to come so fucking hard.

I laid on my back, wearing a crotchless emerald green mesh bodysuit that somehow exposed my body more than being nude did. It was V-cut, and my tits were testing every fiber of its stitching with each inhale I took.

It reminded me of the golden dress from the night Tamen took me to the strip club. The fabric hugged my body like a second skin, as if made for me.

Tamen Bryce would have picked out an outfit just like this one if I gave him the chance to fuck me. I knew it.

The privacy bench that Crystal had picked out for my night was one of my favorites, if I was being honest. Sure, it reminded me of some archaic torture device, but I always had fun when I was in it.

I laid on a plush cushioned bench that ended right at my ass, leaving my cheeks hanging off the edge just enough to be completely at the John’s mercy.

My knees were in slings, tied open and pulled back toward my shoulders, leaving me open and exposed, and my wrists were shackled to the sides of the bench next to my hips.

What made the privacy bench special and fed into the glory hole fetish, was the large velvet plush box that my head was in.

I was surrounded by thick padding that prevented anyone from looking in or out of the box, my head sat comfortably on a pillow. I was incredibly comfortable for being restrained for another’s enjoyment.

Again, that made me so fucking wet tonight, adding to the excitement.

Essentially, I was a headless sex doll.

Yet I had never felt more powerful. Someone paid an insane amount of money to get to do this to me. To have me.

To feel me.

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