Brandy Ch. 05-06

Chapter 5

KIERON

Most of the experiences I have had in my work that I have told you about so far have probably made escort work sound like fun, fun, fun! I get taken out, wined and dined, get more than my fair share of sex - some of it very good sex, the occasional bit of drama, a few weird but not unpleasant happenings - and I get paid for it all!

Sounds great doesn't it?

Well, most of the time it isn't.

Most of the day-to-day clients are pretty 'yuk'! Run-down, middle aged, often fat, sometimes grubby too. Nearly all of them badly dressed, even worse undressed! Boring, nothing to talk about except their job or their rotten wives.

They buy me a meal, a cheap bottle of wine and for some dollars, expect me to virtually fall in love with them - or faint at their sexual prowess. To most of them sex is simply a matter of shoving their little cocks in and out of me as fast as they can - and they usually need my help to get it up for them in the first place!

So the great times, the good lovers, the imaginative needs - they're the rare ones - and of course the ones I tend to remember best.

Luckily those on the other end of the scale are rare too - but they are around! The brutes, the sadists, the sheer animals!

Like the good times, any girl who is in this business has had her share of the 'nasties' - I'm not talking about the guys who try all sorts of tricks to avoid paying or who try their utmost to get more than they have paid for. Nor the guys who treat you like a piece of meat, just because in their minds they have 'bought' you. No, I mean the real 'nasties'.

Guys who connive, cheat and swindle - because that's the only way they know. And, even worse of course, the guys who beat, rape and, sometimes even kill - because, in their twisted way, they actually enjoy it

I have had my share of both, I've been robbed several times, off work because of bruises even more times and actually put into hospital twice!

The trouble is, when you meet a guy for the first time, in a bar, restaurant or hotel, you just can't tell if he is going to be a knight in shining armour or the devil incarnate. So you accept their money and find out the hard way.

Kieron, for instance, was a charmer. When he rang he had no reference - most of my clients are referred on by another client, someone has a good time - talks about it, as men - and women of course - do, names and phone numbers are passed on and I get to check the reference in my index.

But Kieron didn't have a name, he said he got my number from 'someone he had talked to, in a group of business men' but he couldn't remember the man's name. The person said I had given him such a wonderful experience that he, Kieron, just had to call me. He said he simply had to meet such a gorgeous, intelligent, sexy, talented lady - if only for a drink - and, if I didn't like him then that would be his loss, I could simply walk away.

It was his voice that got to me I suppose, it was deep, well modulated and obviously educated. But most of all, he made me laugh. Not that he cracked jokes or anything like that, I guess it was just the way he phrased things, innuendoes he put on things I said - I liked him. I had nothing to lose, so I said 'yes'.

He mentioned the name of the hotel he was staying at and asked if the cocktail bar there was convenient, or would I prefer to meet somewhere else, my choice. I said that where he was would be fine, after all, if he did seem O.K. it would be easier to just get in a lift and go up to his room than to muck around with getting a cab back from somewhere else. He went on to say that if we got on over a drink we could have a meal in the restaurant there, or his room, again my choice.

He was so believable, sounded so charming!

When I met him I was even more convinced I had made the right choice. Well dressed, a nicely cut three-piece suit, highly polished shoes - I always notice a man's shoes, they tell you a lot about the way he takes care of himself - clean shaven, dark, wavy hair with touches of grey at the temples and a bright, open-faced smile of greeting.

We sat and had a drink together, his conversation was witty and he talked freely about a whole range of things, fashions, music, films - never once mentioning either his work or his wife, that made a change!

So I agreed to have dinner with him, again he asked me if I would prefer to have it in the restaurant - there was no pressure on me at all - I said, 'no, his room would be fine'. Dinner in a restaurant takes forever and unless I'm being hired purely as a man's companion at a function I prefer to eat where the action is going to be - it saves time and I get home to my own bed earlier that way.

We went up, chose and ordered our meals and he poured me another drink. I got the financial business out of the way, he paid cash - which he was to take back again later of course - and we carried on chatting while we waited for room-service and still everything seemed terrific.

As always, I had been trying to imagine what kind of body I would find under the suit - it's a little game I play with myself and over the years I've become pretty good at it. You know, how well muscled will he be, the shape of his thighs and bum, how big a cock will he have, long and thin or short and thick. That kind of thing.

I guessed he would be fairly lean, not too much fat on him, I like that. I thought his cock would be bigger than his general size suggested - you often find that's true of his kind of build. Medium sized men often have disproportionately big cocks, I don't know why, but it's true.

When there was a knock on the door from room-service I popped into the bath-room while the trolley was brought in, coming out only after I heard the waiter leave. As I walked across to where dinner had been laid, I suddenly felt a bit funny, my legs a bit wobbly - it passed and I sat down at the table. But I had only taken a couple of mouthfuls of food when I felt my head beginning to spin and realised I was going to faint. I tried to push myself away from the table, to get to the bath-room - but found I didn't have the strength. Everything seemed to swim around and then, went black!

I didn't know how long I had been out cold but when I gradually recovered consciousness I found myself tied down to the bed - naked!

It took a while for my eyes to bring the room into focus and while I was trying to do that I became aware of the sharp, cutting pain of cord or something like that, around my wrists, ankles, tight up beneath my breasts and around my throat - and a gag of some sort, that was tied so tightly across my mouth that I had difficulty breathing.

I was spread-eagled, my legs and arms spread wide and it felt as though the cords went down underneath the bed. I found I could move my legs a bit, I could bend my knees and pull them up a certain distance but I couldn't bring them together - and in struggling I painfully tightened the cords around my chest and throat. I was utterly helpless!

As my head cleared and I began to be able to focus properly again I saw him, sitting on a chair at the end of the bed, leering at me. At first I didn't recognise him, his face had changed completely somehow - now, in place of the open smile and laughing eyes there was a cold, intense grimness and a narrow scheming stare.

'Welcome back.' he said in a flat monotone voice. He then talked for what seemed like ages. First of all assuring me that the stuff he had put in my drink wouldn't do me any harm, that in a few minutes I wouldn't even have a headache - as though that somehow made it all O.K.

Then he 'thanked me' for providing for the cost of the drinks, hotel room and dinner - courtesy of my charge card and some fast talking at the Reception desk from my 'husband'. So, as well as everything else I was paying for his treat!

He then went on to tell be just how gorgeous I was, going on and on about each separate part of me at enormous length. As he used the most crude and foul-mouthed words possible the compliments he paid ended up sounding like obscenities. I got the very strong impression that simply talking about me in that way was arousing, gave him a charge.

All the time he was talking his cold, narrow eyes flicked up and down, first staring into mine then dropping, to stare straight up between my wide-spread thighs, at my defenceless pussy.

I have never been so absolutely terrified in all my life. I had no idea what he was going to do with or to me - but, being totally helpless I knew he could do absolutely anything he wanted and there wasn't a thing I would be able to do about it.

I'm not going to go into the details of that night, he raped me of course, several times and quite brutally. Not just with his cock either, he seemed to take a perverse delight in finding new things around the room to try to jam up into me. And not just up my pussy either, my arse came in for its share of his treatment too.

Once he started in on me his, until then constant flow of words, stopped completely. Every now and then he would make a small grunt of satisfaction or perverted pleasure as some action particularly pleased him. Even when he shot his filthy semen into or over me, as he did half a dozen times during the night, he made no other sound than the same, satisfied grunt.

I found later that he had tied me up in such a way that he could release my feet without disturbing the cords that held my arms, chest and throat. After he had tired of using my sex, he released my legs, then pulled them back up until my knees were on my chest, then retying the cords at the top of the bed. That way he could get at my bottom with the various toys he had lined up.

I thanked heaven when he had had enough of that, apart from the pain, I almost suffocated from the additional pressure of my knees hard up against my chest like that

Somehow, not being able to make more than muffled grunting sounds made it all the harder to bear - and the tightness of the gag meant I was constantly struggling to breathe, even while I was, at the same time trying to unsuccessfully relieve the pain with my screams.

I lost all track of time, the night just seemed endless and I honestly thought that he was going to kill me when he had enough. I didn't see how he could leave me around after what he had done. I suppose the pain and the shock gradually wore me down, my brain seemed to just stop functioning after a couple of hours or so. I suppose that eventually I must have passed out.

Perhaps he could only get what to him passed for pleasure while I was aware of what he was doing to me and he could see my reactions - but as I faded in and out of consciousness I felt no new humiliations or pains being inflicted on me.

I found out later that a maid found me like that, still semi-conscious, when she could get no answer to her knocking on the door the following morning. The hotel was very discrete, an ambulance and the police were called, to the back entrance - not that I was of any value to the police in the state I was in at that time.

They kept me in hospital for a couple of days, mainly for shock. I needed a few stitches in my vagina too. But - at least I was alive!

The police were very kind, but I had to go over and over every single detail I could remember so many times I lost count. The description I gave them of Kieron didn't match up with any of their 'known' weirdoes - and of course they have never found him.

The senior detective reckoned it was a 'one off' - a normally straight guy, perhaps a petty con-man, maybe happily married, suddenly lost all his controls, saw an opportunity to actually live-out some deep-seated fantasies.

But I wonder, what sort of an animal has those kinds of fantasies!

So, as I said, the escort business isn't always fun - as I've learned to my cost!

Chapter 6

THE BARBER

When I first started out in the escort business I thought I was pretty experienced - the reasons why I decided to make my living the way I do don't really matter for now but I was certainly no innocent virgin, I went into it with my eyes wide-open and, as I said, feeling that I knew most things men wanted me to do to or for them.

I couldn't have been more wrong!

The first thing that surprised me was that not every man wanted to fuck me, or at least some part of me - if not my pussy then my mouth or my arse. I'd assumed that that's what guys went to escort-girls for - I was amazed at how many didn't. It's true that just about all of them want to climax - but a surprising number prefer to be masturbated or even to just have me provide sufficient stimulus for them while they do that for themselves.

And it's hard to believe the variety and sort of stimulus some of them have in mind!

Even now, I'm sometimes amazed at some of the weird things guys want of me - but I suppose that unless they happen to meet up with a woman whose idea of bliss is the exact female counter-part of what the man needs, where do they go? Girls like me of course...

I'm not talking about things the media seem to love to go on about - Bondage and Discipline, Water-sports, things like that, there are plenty of places that specialise in those and the men who are really into them tend to go back to whichever one of them they happen to like the best. Nor the really psychotic things most of us would only ever read about in specialist books on sexuality.

What I'm talking about are the strange, quirky and sometimes positively bizarre things that really quite normal people need from time to time - as though there is something niggling away at them that they just have to get out of their system.

There was the guy who had a thing about condoms, unlike just about every other man I've ever met, he actually wanted to wear one - but in a way I've only ever come across with him.

He liked me to start to get him stiff, then before it was fully erect, fit one on to his cock - and then snip the little reservoir off the end. Once I'd done that he'd take over for a bit, working the head of his cock through the small opening until he had the condom fitting tight in the groove below it - then he'd ease the slack that created right down to the base.

If that doesn't sound strange enough, what came next was really bizarre. Slipping his fingers inside, he'd stretch the latex to its limit - and pull it right down over his balls, stretching and adjusting it until, other than the head bulging through the small opening I'd made at the top, it held all of him. At first I couldn't believe how odd he looked but as that initial reaction wore off I had to admit that although it gave his cock and balls an almost surrealistic appearance, there was actually something very sexy about it.

Like many women I suppose, I've usually thought of a man's cock and balls as separate parts - and frankly, until he's close to climaxing, when the balls rise up tight beneath the cock, they're not exactly the most attractive part of his body.

But the tightly stretched condom pulled his balls up against the base of the shaft, fusing them together, making them look like a single member, an impression that was magnified by the mirror-like sheen of the latex that was stretched almost to breaking point.

The combination of that, plus the fact that the tightly fitting condom made the head bulge even more than usual, turning it a dark purple colour as his cock continued to grow, made it look as though he was equipped with something other than just normal flesh and blood - a cock that had been artificially enhanced - a bionic cock.

Once he was satisfied the condom was fitted properly he liked me to get a solid grip around the base with one hand, then, concentrating mainly on the exposed head, use the other to slowly work him up to his climax. Naturally enough the combination of the tightly fitting condom and my hand gripping him hard both slowed down and more importantly, intensified his response and although he sometimes liked me to let him come in my mouth, far more frequently he preferred to be able to watch the jets of semen spewing out when he finally erupted.

But strange though that may sound, another, even better example of what I mean is the fellow I always think of as 'The Barber', no he didn't want to cut my hair but you'll see why I can't help thinking of him by that name.

The name he gave me was Larry and the first time he called he gave me the name of a friend of his who had been a casual client some months earlier, when a quick check of my records confirmed that, we arranged to meet for dinner at the hotel he said he'd be staying at one night the following week. We met, ate, went up to his room, he paid me and we had sex. I don't remember that there was anything special about either him or it, he certainly gave no indication that time that he wanted anything other than normal, straight sex.

A couple of weeks later he rang again, reminded me that we had already met and asked if I was free on a certain night, I was and we arranged what I thought would be a similar meeting.

Once again we met in the restaurant bar of the hotel and I admit that our previous encounter had been so ordinary that I was a bit concerned I wouldn't be able to recognise him but he was obviously watching out for my arrival and we were soon sitting down to eat. Many men are initially nervous with me the first time but those that come back for seconds are usually much more self-confident, some far too much so - acting as though they actually own me. Larry was quite the reverse, he was so nervous that towards the end it became clear he was actually putting off going up to his room and in the end, to save time I had to push him to get the bill.

He didn't say a single word to me about what he wanted until after he had dithered around for quite a while, offering me a drink, asking if I needed to use the bath-room and generally avoiding whatever it was that was that was going on in his mind. Again I took the initiative by asking him straight out if he'd be wanting the same thing as he had the last time, just so we could get the financial part out of the way. He had no choice then, he had to say what he actually wanted me to do. He asked me if I would shave him!

'Shave you? You don't look as though you need one Larry.' I answered.

'I don't mean my face, I mean the rest of me.'

'You mean your body?'

'Yes.'

'All of it, or just part of it?'

'All of it!'

I resisted asking him why, that wasn't my business and after all he was paying for what he wanted me to do and from my point of view it was a pretty harmless activity. So I agreed and, having named a higher than usual price he managed a weak smile and handed over the money.

He'd obviously worked the whole thing out in detail in his mind because once the ice was broken he bustled around far more confidently, turning back the bed-covers, getting towels from the bath-room, laying two large ones over the sheets and putting a smaller one and an old-fashioned shaving brush and a tub of soap on the bed-side table. I was glad to see that he didn't want me to use a cut-throat razor, I might have called a halt to things if he had - and I was amused by the fact that he'd even brought a jug for the hot water.

Once everything was ready he seemed to get nervous again and as he began to take his clothes off he said, shyly that it would probably be better for me if I got undressed, to avoid getting my clothes wet or soapy. He may have been nervous but at least he was human enough to keep an eye on me as I went into my slow strip and when he pulled his pants down although his cock was nowhere near erect, I saw that it had at least started to respond to his obviously growing interest.

At that stage I decided it would be better if I took charge of things and, picking up the jug I told him to lie face down on the towels while I got some hot water.