A Hard Day's Night

A different agency, she was registered with three, and back in her home town. She recognized the street. Wow! A really classy neighborhood. No time to go home, but Mimi was pretty sure she had everything she needed in the small suitcase she kept in the trunk. And she obviously already had her school uniform with her; it was a popular client request. She messaged her acceptance.

Alan appeared to be sleeping when Mimi re-entered the room, but he opened his eyes and sat up. "That was lovely. Memorable. Fantastic. Thank you."

"Oh, honey, I loved it too. Listen, if the agency finds out, I'm in big trouble. But let me share my WhatsApp. If you'd like to meet again, I could arrange a discount."

Alan stored the details in his 'phone and said that he'd love to meet again sometime.

Mimi kissed Alan with real warmth and headed back to the lobby. Joel had her car brought round and she started the drive to her next appointment.

Alan's flowers were already wilting on the passenger seat.

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THE MANSION

Mimi got caught in the Philly rush hour traffic, she called the agency and asked if the appointment could be moved to 6:30pm. Apparently that was no problem. She was now driving down familiar roads. Her destination was only three miles from where she lived. Thoughts drifted through her head, like whether she had run into the client at ShopRite. That was funny. Given the address, the guy probably had someone shop for him, and that definitely wouldn't be at ShopRite.

She knew the house. Well she had driven past it many times. It was differentiated from others on the same road by its Italianate style. Mimi wasn't a student of architecture, but the creamy walls, offset by dark balcony rails and sweeping roofs, were striking. It wasn't quite sunset yet, but the low orange sun made the facades glow.

Mimi lowered her window and pressed a button on the entry 'phone. "It's Miss Lee, the masseuse." Without any reply, the wrought iron gate swung open. She parked discreetly at the side of the house as per her -- very specific -- directions. A side door opened and an elderly lady stood framed by the internal light. Mimi retrieved her suitcase and wheeled it into the house, following the woman.

She had been to some other large houses in her home town. She'd always been greeted by a staff member. How much did these people know about their employer's peccadilloes? And did the employer even care? The woman showed her a pair of large wooden doors on the second floor. She handed Mimi an envelope and then withdrew. 'Well at least that answered her question about employees,' she thought.

Mimi knocked and and male voice called her to enter.

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The room was large, and ornate. The occupant clearly wanted to project an image of refined taste. Though whether this was his own, or one he had paid for, was perhaps open to question. A grand, canopied bed was the most obvious element. But glass-topped and mahogany furniture was dotted around. It supported silver photo frames, flower vases, and a bewildering array of objets d'art. One wall sported a hanging tapestry, another was dominated by a life-sized portrait of the the owner.

The owner himself was sitting on a chair in the center of the room. He was maybe in his mid-sixties and dressed in a purple, chinoiserie robe. Across his knees rested what looked like a riding crop. This was of no surprise to Mimi, of course. The agency had been quite clear about that requirement at least. She dropped into character, inwardly cringing at her faux accent.

"Hello Sir, you wanna see Mimi, yes."

The client nodded.

"Me don't know why, Sir. Mimi a good girl."

The client looked irritable. "I have business interests in the Far East. And if that's a real accent, I'll let you crop me instead!"

Mimi was a little scared for a moment. And she said nothing, worried about the client's evident displeasure. But then the man broke into a smile. "Good enough for most men round here, I guess. I heard Central Jersey in there, right?"

Mimi also smiled, but in relief. She reverted to her own voice. "Yeah, Trenton. Not quite as romantic as Thailand. That's where my Mom is from. Do we have a problem?"

"No, I'm more interested in your body than your voice. Speaking of which..."

Mimi took off her raincoat and gave her trademark spin. "OK for you?"

"Let me see your ass."

Mimi turned, bent, and flipped up her skirt.

"Promising. Now drop the panties. Just to your knees."

Mimi complied.

"Yes, you'll do fine. Stay like that. Put your hands on your knees. And look ahead, no peeking."

Mimi assumed the position. There were girls who specialized in this sort of thing. Some who even got off on it. Not Mimi. It was a sideline and not her favorite part of the job. But she did get requests. She assumed due to her agency photos featuring both school uniform and her ass prominently. She supposed it was a kind of compliment.

"Oh fuck!" She couldn't help the expletive. She hadn't been expecting the first blow, and it was pretty hard.

"Too much?" It seemed to be an honest enquiry, rather than a taunt.

She caught her breath and replied, "no, Sir. But not much harder."

Mimi was silent for the second blow. Her eyes tight shut, tears squeezing between the lids. The third and fourth followed on quickly. She had to stand and hold her inflamed butt-cheeks.

Her client sounded concerned, if a little detached. Maybe as if he was inquiring about the health of his gardener's dog. "Perhaps I started a little too roughly. Let me sit down again and we'll try just my hand."

That seemed good to Mimi. "Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."

The man settled in his chair. Mimi knew this scene. She stepped out of her panties and lay across his lap. A somewhat familiar hardness poked her stomach slightly. The client lifted Mimi's skirt and stroked her ass almost gently. "Better, young lady?"

"Better, thank you, Sir." She appreciated the young lady.

"Ow!"

His slap hurt, Mimi's ass was already tenderized. But it was more bearable. The exclamation was more for show than indicative of actual pain. But, as he began to rhythmically spank either cheek in turn, the soreness built, until each new slap almost approached the intensity of her initial cropping. Mimi let her tears flow and sobbed audibly. She both wanted to and knew clients got off on that shit.

Eventually he was satisfied. "Now strip, please. Everything off."

Mimi stood and did as directed. Her ass stung as she pulled her skirt down over it. 'Now what?' she wondered. The agency had been specific about the uniform and corporal punishment, but the rest had been rather vague. They had only mentioned restraints, which could encompass a wide range of activities. Sometimes she felt they kept things from her, lest she declined the appointment.

Mimi decided to try to find out. "Excuse me, Sir. What do you expect of me next? I have cuffs and ropes in my suitcase. If you would like..."

She trailed off as her client laughed out loud. 'Shit! What the fuck did that mean?'

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The man stood and walked towards Mimi. Stopping directly in front of her he calmly put his hand between her legs and stroked her pussy. It was a clear sign of ownership, as if he was handling one of his objets d'art.

"I have my own equipment. In fact there is a whole room dedicated to my hobby downstairs. Maybe I'll show it to you another time. But today I'm in a mellow mood. Just come over here will you?"

With that, the client hooked two fingers into Mimi's pussy and used them to pull her towards the bed. Mimi assumed it was fucking time, but instead he got her to stand by its front.

Picking up a rope, that had been lying on the covers, he began to issue instructions. "Give me your wrist." The man quickly tied one end of the rope around it. He was tall and reached up to run the rope over a beam supporting the bed's canopy. "Now put your hands both above your head, nice and high. That's good." He pulled the rope through and fixed it to Mimi's other wrist.

'Not so bad,' thought Mimi. The rope was a little slack.

"Right, legs apart." The customer knelt and pulled out a metal tube with cuffs at each end from under the bed. He attached it to Mimi's right ankle and then her left. OK again, Mimi wasn't too uncomfortable.

Then he adjusted the middle of the tube, which she now realized was extensible. He pulled it out until Mimi's legs were spread very wide and she hung on the now tight ropes.

Mimi was acutely aware of how open and vulnerable her pussy was. Leaving her in this predicament, the man entered a walk-in closet. He returned carrying what Mimi recognized as a flogger, a light chain with clips on it and a ball-gag.

Mimi began to panic a little as he lay them on the bed, retaining the gag. She tried to calm herself. 'It's OK. It's OK. He paid extra and the money is already in your purse. You can do this.' Mimi buried her fear and opened her mouth wide.

The client smiled. "Good girl." He pushed the gag against Mimi's lips. It stretched her even wider before slipping in. The ball felt too big for her. It impacted her breathing. A tear rolled down Mimi's cheek. The client licked it off her face. 'Creepy much,' thought Mimi. 'The money, focus on the money.'

He stroked Mimi's pussy, then slapped it. Not hard, but enough to make her flinch. Then he picked up the chain and held it in front of Mimi's face. As he did so, she realized that she was going to have to let her client do whatever he wanted, there was no other option. The chain had clamps at either end. But not the sort of cosmetic ones that Mimi sometimes wore for her kinkier clients. These looked serious, and highly sprung.

When the man released the first onto Mimi's right nipple, the pain was immediate and excruciating. A white light exploded in her mind as agony seared through her. And then the second. She wailed, despite the gag. Then he let the chain drop and its weight pulled down on her. Mimi was now sobbing again. Sobbing hot tears.

The client retrieved the flogger and stroked its many tongues over Mimi's flesh. Standing in front of her, he flicked it upwards and it lashed against her defenseless pussy. Before the second blow, he picked up the chain and pulled it towards him. Mimi screamed, but a muted groan was all the noise that the gag allowed.

Mimi was unsure how long the punishment lasted. She dissociated. The pain was still real, very real. But she felt somehow removed from it. 'It's OK, it will be over soon.'

Finally, the lashing stopped, though the pressure on Mimi's nipples was still intense. The client released one wrist. Her arms ached as she lowered them. He moved Mimi into a kneeling position, her legs still held wide by the spreader, then bound her arms together at the back. Lastly he removed the gag. Mimi gasped, able to breathe properly at last.

The client opened his robe and stood in front of Mimi, gripping a distinctly average-sized cock in his hand. He didn't take long, ordering Mimi to open wide at the end. Warm liquid splashed onto her face and into her mouth. But the volume was mercifully small.

Mimi slumped into her haunches, eyes closed, panting. Her abused body aching. Her arms still bound. Her nipples still clamped. A bright light penetrated her eyelids. Opening them, she saw the client, 'phone in hand, capturing a memento. Photos weren't allowed, except by prior arrangement. But Mimi was too spent to object. She stared blankly into the lens as the 'phone flashed three more times.

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The man wrapped his robe around himself and made to leave the room. As fears began to grip Mimi, once again, he spoke without turning. "Mrs Simmonds will show you where to shower. It was a pleasure to meet you."

With that, he was gone. A few seconds later, the old woman appeared, she carried a toweling robe and a washcloth.

The woman undid the ankle cuffs, and untied the rope. She did this in a manner as matter of fact as if she had been vacuuming. "You might want to remove those yourself." The woman looked at the clamps.

Mimi tentatively undid one. She had been numb, but the return of sensation hurt like fuck. Her nipple was flattened and pale white from lack of blood. Now knowing how painful it would be, she didn't want to touch the second. But she had to. Mimi yelped as she opened it. She cradled her traumatized breasts, fresh tears falling.

Mrs Simmonds, still impassive, offered Mimi the damp washcloth. Mimi stood and dabbed her face. She was grateful when the old lady held out the robe and wrapped it round her.

The woman extended her hand to Mimi and offered her a greenish piece of paper. It had Benjamin Franklin on it. "The master of the house was pleased with you. This is a sign of his esteem." These were the last words that passed between them.

The warm water felt healing on Mimi's inflamed body. A bath. She needed a long, warm bath. Stepping out of the shower, she checked her 'phone. It was now 8:45pm. There was a new request for an 9:30pm appointment. Despite being close to her home, there was not enough time to run a tub and relax. It would have to wait.

Mimi sat down in her car. Her ass was sore and the seat felt uncomfortable. Her nipples were still throbbing as well. She tapped in the new destination. Alan's flowers were close to dead and Mimi sadly decided that she needed to toss them. There was a garbage can close to where she had parked. As she raised the lid and dropped the bouquet in, she reflected on how much more fun her first meeting of the day had been.

Mimi was not naïve. She knew she wasn't paid to have pleasure herself. Her job was to get the client off. But, it was nice when it was mutual. It had been nice with Alan.

As she drove, Mimi thought that what she wanted was a nice, easy appointment. She sighed. Her desire was not going to be met. She was heading for a fraternity house. And not one, but two, bros were waiting for her. Extra cash, of course, but why did it have to be now?

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THE FRATERNITY

En route to her next appointment, Mimi got a message. It popped up on her car's screen. The second agency again. A pre-booking with Mr. Purple Robe for the same time next week. Despite her ordeal, Mimi was pleased. A new regular would be great. And one who paid as well as her last client did would make a real difference to her earnings. Mimi could put up with a little soreness for that.

The Fraternity House was on the other side of town, but the traffic had now abated. She thought about the two boys -- yes boys was still probably the word -- she was going to meet. She recalled how tight money had been when she was at college, and marveled that they could afford her services. Mimi was not exactly cheap. Did their parents have any idea how their money was being spent? Mimi decided that this was a fruitless line of questioning and instead focused on driving.

She reached the address and parked over the road and about a hundred feet away. No point attracting attention to herself. It was an area where a number of houses had been split up to provide student accommodation. College had not yet started and the neighborhood was quiet. The odd lighted window here and there indicated early arrivals.

The fraternity house itself was large, though dwarfed by the last place Mimi had visited. The veranda was lit, but only two other windows, at opposite ends of the second floor shone yellow. Mimi rang the bell and waited to be let in. She had changed into a different outfit after showering. Sheer, black thigh highs peeped from below her raincoat.

After what seemed like a while, Mimi heard feet, and the door was opened. Inside were two figures. Both looking impossibly young and both grinning. They almost pulled Mimi inside.

With the door closed, one kissed her. The other put a hand inside her raincoat, fumbling for her breasts. Mimi had not been fond of frat boys at college. Her occasional professional exposure to them since had not exactly increased her ardor. But cash was cash.

Speaking of cash, she disentangled herself from their wandering hands and took a pace back. She used her own voice. It was clearly the day for that and she needed to exert some authority. "It's OK, boys. We can have lots of fun. But I'm not yours to play with yet." She paused and looked meaningfully at the pair.

"Oh, fuck of course." The taller one, with dark hair pulled out a wallet. He handed Mimi some notes. She smiled, and deliberately started counting them.

"This isn't enough. Not for two. Didn't the agency explain?"

The smaller guy, a dark blonde, spoke. "Yeah. But you are more expensive than the girl we hired back in June. We'd like to negotiate. You probably need the money, right?"

"Nice to meet you boys. See you around maybe." Mimi made for the door.

"Wait! Miss! It's OK, it's OK. You can't blame us for trying to get a discount. We'll pay, we'll pay." This also from the second guy. Who then took out his wallet.

Mimi checked the amount. "Thing is, the price just went up. I'll need another fifty dollars from each of you."

"Fuck that, whore! No way!" It was blondie speaking again.

His friend grabbed his arm and whispered in his ear. Then dark hair turned to Mimi. "Give us a few seconds, Miss."

Mimi nodded, allowing a leg to slip out from under her raincoat. "Sure, boys. Have a chat. I can wait."

The pair walked a few feet away and had an animated, if hushed, conversation. Mimi idly unclipped the garter belt from one stocking, pulled the nylon up, and re-clipped it.

The boys returned. Each holding a fifty dollar bill.

"Thank you boys." Taking the money, Mimi pulled off her raincoat. Beneath she was wearing a black, see-through bra, a matching thong, and the garter belt that she had been diligently flashing. Both guys mouths dropped open.

"How do I compare to the girl in June?"

"A-fucking-mazing." Dark hair spoke, blondie nodded.

"The let's go and have some fun, boys. But two pieces of advice for you, life hacks if you like. First, respect costs nothing, and rudeness can be expensive. Second, never hustle a hustler, OK?"

The boys displayed a mixture of contrition and desire. Mimi had them just where she wanted them. Like she was going to let a couple of testosterone-infused twenty year olds get the better of her.

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"So, I'm Mimi. Do you two have names?"

The taller boy spoke. "Sure. I'm... Eddie and this is Brett. No, I mean Bobby."

The blonde punched his friend hard on the arm. "Fuck, Sam, we said no real names!" Sam hit him back and things began to look ugly.

Mimi's laughter made them pause. "So Sam and Brett it is. Don't worry, I won't tell your mothers. Upstairs, I guess."

Without waiting on an answer, Mimi walked past the pair and began to ascend. Her purse slung over a shoulder.

While she felt that her breasts were her best feature, Mimi knew her ass was a close second. And she thought she looked particularly good in this thong. A combination of genetics and exercise meant she had hardly any cellulite. And her glutes were toned, rubbery, and firm. She imagined them wobbling just a little as she took each upward step. Who needed a pipe when you could lead a procession of younger people with your butt?

Mimi could hear Sam and Brett behind her on the stairs, and feel their eyes fixed on her body. Over her shoulder she called, "right or left, boys." She turned right based on their answer, and walked slowly towards an open door. Making sure to sway her hips in just the right way. She could imagine the two boys' tongues hanging out.