Malice Pt. 01

I think I'm hot for my best friend.

I don't know if my heart wants him, but my pussy sure does.

Problem is David is cute and sweet while I'm nasty and spicy. He is the kind of guy that says "sorry" when someone bumps into him. He can't eat thai food because it's too hot and one of his oldest hobbies is to collect miniature models. Dav is the nerdy software developer who never really had much game and is only now picking up women cause he grew into a fine man, without realising it.

And the last couple of years, he got into brazilian jiu-jitsu and... hmmm. His body is getting really really good.

But me?

I'm a sex worker.

My oldest hobby is to collect sex toys and I could eat thai food with my pussy.

I like men who choke and humiliate me. I like men I can choke and humiliate.

And Dav has VANILLA written across his forehead, I'd probably fall asleep half way through fucking him.

By the way... yes, I'm a sex worker & no, I will not get into the politics of it all. While I do think that's an important conversation to have and I know there is a lot of abuse in the industry, those are not the points of my story right now. So, to get that out of the way: I'm a 26 year old woman who graduated college and has a great relationship with her family, I do this willingly because I enjoy it and the money is lovely. We good?

Moving on!

I want to tell you about David, but before we get there, I have to tell you about Joe.

There are a LOT of men in my life (occupational hazard and all) so you're gonna have to pay close attention.

Joe is Joseph Willard Matzen III, my brand new client.

Or... potential client.

You know all this 50 Shades of Whatever erotica telling you that CEOs like to be dominant in bed? From my experience, it's not quite like that.

Powerful men are used to being dominant in all things.

Being dominant in bed, to them, is like missionary.

It's boring. It's vanilla.

But you know what isn't?

Being controlled.

Being tied. Being spanked. Being humiliated and told what to do.

That is new and exciting.

But it's also tricky for a rich testosterone-infused CEO to admit he likes to be bound and collared while a woman shoves a butt plug up their ass.

That's where I come in.

I work for a company that provides such services and just this afternoon, my boss called me in his office to tell me all about Joe.

And this is where I am right now.

A nice elegant party organised by my bosses so that I (and other fellow coworkers) can try to impress the client so he'll pick one of us.

I have to seduce him.

I have to make him want to fuck me.

Then I'll to be his for a month and he'll pay me a small fortune for my efforts.

Win-win, hm?

But first I need to get hired.

My plan?

Well... I don't really have one.

What I do have is pussy juice down my thighs because I work best when I'm horny, so I made damn sure I was riled up before coming here tonight.

The perfume I have on is not enough to hide the smells on my skin: sex, sweat and a good time. Well, that and Chanel n.5.

"Yasmine" my boss introduces us "This is Joe Matzen" he is already surrounded by six gorgeous women. All professionals like me. All desperately trying to get the job just like me "Joe" he adds "This is the girl I wanted you to meet".

I'm a really good lay.

And funny thing is most people think that has to do with what I do in bed.

The way I ride dick.

The way I kiss.

The way I moan.

The way I cum.

And yeah, I am good at those. But great sex is about what you do outside bed, just as much as in it.

I'm a good lay because, when I finally take a man to my bed and let him fuck me, he is already desperately hot for me.

Foreplay starts way before the clothes come off.

Foreplay starts with that first look.

The first touch.

I say hello and I am already doing my best to make them want me naked.

I like to water their lust until it grows into passion, into desire... into an erotic obsession. Then I let them have me. Not before.

It's like making someone starve before offering them a hot meal.

Part of the flavour comes from the wait.

Joe looks good.

Tall and steady. His face draws immediate attention: there is something youthful and provocative about his smile, but his eyes are deep and sober, like you'd only find in a serious man. There is a shade in the bottom half of his face, like he tried very hard to get rid of his beard, but it's always on the brink of returning. His eyes have a difficult color to describe... they look dark at first, but once light hits them just right I can see some blue. His hair is dark brown and messy, but his clothes are flawless.

And he is obscenely rich.

Obscene being the key word here, as that's my favorite one.

"A pleasure to meet you" I take his hand and let the word pleasure dance on my lips. Cliche, I know. But I'm a whore, leave me alone.

"Pleasure is mine" he shakes my hand gently. His voice is calm and deep.

Business like.

"I believe" my boss tells him "That Yasmine here would be perfect for what you're looking for"

"I see" he says, analysing me from head to toe like he is checking the tires on the car he just bought.

Half the women around him take the cue from our boss and leave Joe alone.

But other half still linger so he has to say:

"May I buy you a drink?" he points to the bar and I let him take my waist and guide us there.

He doesn't seem very sure on what to do next.

It must be his first time.

Not his first time having sex, but the first time buying it.

He is trying to check me out while ordering the drinks. I decide to take over.

"So, Joe. Are you gonna tell me what they offered you?"

"I'm sorry?"

I like men with deep voices. They translate well when they are whispering hoarse moans against my pussy. I quite enjoy those.

"The other whores around you just now. What were they offering to do to you?"

He bites his lip looking awful serious. He is leaning against the bar and I wish I had my paddles with me. He has a nice little tushy I'd love to spank..

"I don't like that word" he admonishes me "I don't think it's polite"

"That's too bad" I sigh, emotionless "I didn't ask what you thought of my vocabulary. I asked what did they offer you"

His eyes become harsh.

"You're not very polite. When people talk to me, I'd rather them be polite"

"And when men talk to me, I'd rather them be obedient" I let the last word snap out of my lips and he feels it.

"Well" there is a shade of a smile over his face but he is still keeping himself in check. Won't last "You're the professional. What do you think they offered?"

"That wasn't an answer" I bat my eyelashes at his disobedience.

He feels the pressure and yields.

"None of them were direct. They read about me online and tried to use my interests and hobbies to get my attention"

"Oh, that's too bad"

"Yes, I thought it disappointing also. I heard so much about the business your boss runs here, I thought women would be more...."

"No, I don't think it's too bad they were disappointing. I think it's too bad you broke so fast"

"I broke?"

"Yes, you answered my question. Too bad"

He comes closer, sliding his arm on the bar.

He smells good.

I'm gonna enjoy this.

"I thought you were only polite to obedient men"

"Yes, but the disobedient ones get punished" I touch his tie. Slowly. Such a prude touch that, yet, feels very sexual "And I do enjoy punishments. Don't you?"

"You know the answer to that" he laughs "Because your boss clearly shared details of my interests with you that he kept from the others. Interests that I'd rather the world not know about and that I never shared myself, not even with girlfriends."

"Hmm" I agree "So, what is your kink, Joe? You want a woman to shove a dildo up your ass while..."

"Woman, you're gonna have to respect me" he growls, displeased.

I stare at him with freezing cold eyes.

"I wasn't finished" I snap "You're the one who will have to respect me" he hesitates. They always do, these rich spoiled brats. They are far too used to being heard and obeyed. Surrounded by yes people. "I was saying..." I repeat, slowly "Do you want a woman to shove a dildo up your ass while she spanks you with a leather whip? Or would you rather have a woman turning you into her pet without anything too specific?"

I can see the doubt glowing in his eyes.

Rich boy, so very used to being catered to, staring at a crossroad.

Answering my question will hurt his dignity.

Not answering will hurt his desires.

"I don't know what your boss told you" he begins "But I am looking for something new. I have no specific desire for... anything... going into any parts of my body. I am just curious about trying something new"

"Hi Joe, where have you been?" a redhead who also works with me has her arms around him "I don't know why you are wasting time with these other girls, when you're coming home with me"

Far from me to shame a fellow sex worker, but some of these women have no game.

Still... Joe laughs.

The fact he is laughing at that stupid comment lets me know I am losing him.

Maybe I went too far too fast?

"Well, Yasmine" he looks at me "Why should I pick you?" he asks, in front of the redhead, treating me like I'm a brand of yogurt at the supermarket.

"Excuse me?"

"You're the professional your boss singled out" he has his arm around the redhead "So I'll give you five minutes to convince me. Or twenty, if you feel like giving me a private demonstration"

Men.

Men don't understand that sex workers sell their time not their bodies.

They cross the line. They treat us like objects.

Powerful men are even worst.

I still wanted the client, sure.

But not like this.

"Oh, honey, you misunderstood" I offer him a sarcastic smile "You don't pick me. The only way you'd fuck me is if I picked you."

"Pick me?" he laughs "I'm a rich client willing to pay a fortune and I don't get to pick the woman? Are you sure?"

"Not when I'm the woman" "I explain it to him very calmly "You're not the richest man in the world to request me. God!" I laugh "You're not even the richest man in this room to request me. I was giving you the opportunity to fight for the privilege of enjoying my bed. But it's not happening".

"I'm sorry?" the arm around the redhead falls down as I start to leave. It's like there is already a leash holding him to me, pulling him closer as I walk away.

"You apologise too much" I make a face "But even if you didn't, you still wouldn't have a shot."

"I wouldn't have a shot? With a whore?"

"I thought you didn't like that word"

He bites his lips, looking furious.

It's funny watching that happen: a man biting his own lips when what he actually wants is to bite yours. Means he is losing control. Means I am winning.

"You know... I could fuck you in all the ways you want but are afraid to admit. You would never need to say the words out loud, if they embarass you. I'd give you things you didn't even know you wanted. Know why? Because I fuck better than you do. So much better. But it won't happen" I shrug "Because you are a spoiled brat who likes to play games" I point at the redhead "So you missed your chance over silly little jokes. That's not how a man behaves. That's how stupid boys behave. And I don't fuck stupid boys"

I walk away without saying goodbye.

The redhead nods to me like she loved every word I said, respecting me even though we were competing for the client.

Maybe that was a good move on my part.

Maybe that will make him want me more.

Or maybe I just fucked everything up.

Either way... no going back.

**********************

So now I tell you about David.

There are three kinds of intimacy.

The one you have with the guy that fucks you.

The one you have with your best friend.

And the one I have with David.

I have to breathe in before ringing his doorbell.

"Pizza!" I announce as he opens the door waving me to come in.

"Where the hell were you?" he points at his watch "It's about to start!"

David is erotic in a non-obvious way. Then and again, everything was erotic to me. But I think it started with his mouth.

I had just moved to this city, my bank account was barely enough to get me through the month, but I was happy. Sometimes all you need in life is a change. Maybe a hair cut, maybe a New Year. For me, it was the new city and the new place.

New life.

Which was exactly like the one I had before with a different Zip code.

I bought a bed and a fridge and that was it. And David was not only my childhood friend who helped me move, but he would also be my new neighbour. So, after we were done with the boxes, we sat on the floor of my new apartment eating cheap ice cream with a shared spoon.

And that's when it happened.

He had just handed the spoon back to me and I was going to joke about how this saliva exchange was pretty much a french kiss. I smiled and took a deep breath all ready to tease him, only... I didn't. The words got trapped in the back of my throat and I never really knew why.

See, back then I wasn't a whore yet. But "being a whore" is different from "being naughty". Although it was only later that I'd choose the former as a career, I had always chosen the latter as a lifestyle.

David was the shy and quiet one. I was loud and shameless. A true perv and proud.

But that day, sitting on the floor, I kept my mouth shut but I couldn't keep my eyes off his lips.

I had a tiny crush on him when we were kids, but it was always innocent and then it vanished forever. Or... at least until the Spoon Day.

I couldn't stop thinking about his mouth.

That was the first time I dreamed of him.

Licking my pussy like he did the spoon. Calling me delicious.

I woke up wet and blushing with embarrassment.

Blushing with embarrassment.

Me!

"How much time we got?" I ask, throwing myself on his couch.

"About ten more minutes, I think" he takes the pizza and beer from my hands.

He walks back to the kitchen and I can't stop myself from staring.

He is looking a little hot.

He used to be an incredibly thin kid who grew into a chubby teen who grew into a lean nerd. But he's been working out!

Up until a year ago he had something of a dad bod in the making. A little thick around the waist with weirdly thin arms. But now... his stomach was looking lean as fuck as there was quite some muscles filling up his long sleeved shirt.

Not bad, Dav.

Stop staring, Yas!

It's David!

My best friend.

My oldest friend.

And I´m a whore.

The kind that gets paid.

How long would a good boy stand by a prostitute who was trying to grow in her career?

Between you and me: yes, I did want to... try David. But at what cost?

Fucking him would be the greatest personal achievement my pussy's been begging for since the Spoon Day. But then what? Was he gonna date the whore? Was he gonna dump the whore? Would he still be friends with the whore?

Two years since that day.

Two years and now I am sitting on his couch with my pussy dripping in juices and dreaming of spanking some rich guy's ass. So I'm really considering whether picking friendship over sex was the right call.

I'm sure tomorrow it will be.

After I masturbate and shower, friendship over sex will sound like the right decision.

But now?

Fuck.

Now I'm horny as fuck, grinding my thighs together looking for a relief I didn't get all day, and having lucid dreams of his mouth in between my legs.

Come closer, Dav, real quick, kneel over here and put out your tongue... I wanna check something, it will just take a second.

And he didn't shave today.

Fuck me, right? The one day I can't stop wishing he'd grind me hard is the one day when he has that sexy fucking stubble that feels so damn good to have scratching against your inner thighs.

Yasmine.

You're horny.

You're wet.

Deep breaths and don't fuck this up.

I just need to flick it.

Like... a lot.

And I have to do it fast cause right now I just keep thinking about Dav flicking it for me. With his tongue.

"You alright? You look nervous"

Nervous, dry humping your couch, thinking about your sweaty body... it's all the same to me.

Fuck orgasm control, ok?

I adore BDSM, but keeping someone from orgasming, specially this long, should not be permited by the laws of Gods or men.

My hands are shaking, wanting to slide all over my body, grabbing my hair strong enough to rip them all. Or maybe I should slide down my pubes to calm me down for good.

Fuck, Yasmine, stop thinking about pubes.

"Yas?" I see him through the kitchen door. His jawline could cut glass. His eyes are so warm and kind.

Then I stop thinking about pubes.

Well... I stop thinking about mine and start thinking about his.

"Trouble at work" I get up and go be with him in the kitchen.

Let me explain to you what's the problem with being a prostitute.

For most women, their autopilot is controlled by their brains. They understand a lot of men aren't worth it so they learn a lot of... erotic self preservation techniques, if you will. The default mode for their bodies is to be cautious, prudent and reserved.

But I'm a hooker. My body is made out of a spoiled pussy who is far too used to getting it her way. And today, she was starving.

Bossy. And starving.

So when I get up to join David in the kitchen, I already know she is the one in charge. She is the one commanding my legs to go get a man.

I walk slowly so I can press my legs against each other.

And believe me: if nobody stops me, I will fuck David in that kitchen.

I'll suck his timid dick until it's dry of all insecurity, growing larger and thicker down my throat. Then I'll spread my legs and let him do with me as he pleases. I'll ride him good, watching his sweet eyes become naughty.

I'm biting my lips so hard, it hurts.

"What kind of trouble?" he asks.

"I have to seduce a client" I shrug, the large collar falls off one of my shoulder, leaving my bra strap out in the open.

"You have to seduce him?" he pops open a beer "I thought they picked you off a book or something"

"Yeah, but this is a different client. He is filthy rich so they are letting him choose live. To get the job, I had to convince him to pick me. My career is kind of riding on it right now"

"How did you convince him?"

"I made him want to fuck me" I raise my eyebrows "You want me to show you?"

David chokes on the beer, tipping the bottle over at a bad angle he gets it dripping all over his beard, splashing on his shirt. He coughs, so embarrassed and so adorable. His face goes purple as he tries to avoid my eyes.

"No, thank you" he coughs.

"It's no big deal" I sit on his kitchen counter "But I'm not sure I convinced him"

"... to want to fuck you? I can't imagine that was very hard" he whispers to himself. But I heard him.

I heard him fine.

"Get over here" I ask, getting a dish towel "You are all dirty"

"It's not that bad" he runs his hand over his still wet beard.

"David" I smile, pulling him by the collar.

I am still sitting on the counter when I force him to come closer. I put his body between my legs cause I'm no good.

"Seriously, Yas" his cheeks are red and his breathing is gone. He is so cute when he gets embarrassed, I have to try really hard not to smile. The things I'd do to you "I'm good" he gulps.

"David, quiet" I hug his hips with my legs to stop him from moving about and... it works beautifully. Dav is quiet and motionless, like a man looking into the eyes of Death.

I run the towel gently over his face, cleaning him.

But... you know... it's a fucking dry towel to clean some silly drops of beer. I wasn't doing a very good job cause there wasn't really a job to be done.