The Machine

I'm wearing my street clothes as I enter the plain, nondescript building on a plain, nondescript night. No one would ever guess what goes on in here.

I've performed high-end live sex shows for an audience of obscenely rich old men on-and-off for the past three years. I was recruited by a glamorous woman patronized the swanky bar I host at. At first I said no because I found the whole thing kind of off-putting. But when I hit a rough patch and needed some extra money, she convinced me to give it a shot.

I was truly surprised by how into it I was. I would do it even if I didn't need the paycheck, which is of course very substantial. It makes me feel like a star. I get off on the attention. I've always had partners tell me how amazing I am in bed so it's fun to show off my moves for an appreciative audience.

There are 60 seats, comfortable leather chairs arranged in rows. My shows sell out months in advance. The crowd is mostly old money, some are billionaires, and all have a grotesque amount of wealth. They don't react when I'm performing, which took some getting used to. Occasionally some asshole will take a brief phone call. Definitely no masturbating.

I duck into the decrepit office to get changed. I lotion my skin and strap on a pair of sky-high stilettos. I touch up my hair and cover myself with a vintage kimono. I take one last look in the mirror. I'm ready.

I go down the hall and enter the makeshift backstage area. I don't know the scenario until I step out there, though the bosses check with me first if they want something unusual. Apparently the audience prefers the women to be caught off guard by the scene, which I'd rather not read too much into.

I peek through the slit in the curtain and see Chris and Alton standing motionless in tight gold briefs. They're both chiseled, statuesque men with rich dark skin. We work together pretty often since old rich dudes seem to have a thing for watching black men fuck white women. I'm a big fan of both of them. They're very sexually gifted in addition to being total professionals, and we usually go out for breakfast at the diner after shows.

I compose myself and stride elegantly onto the small wood stage. We're only two feet off the ground. I take my place between the boys. The lights are in my eyes and all I can see are dark silhouettes and the red glow of lit cigars. Someone clears their throat.

The show begins.

Alton unties my kimono and it slips to the floor in a single fluid motion. Chris oils my naked body, starting at my ankles, my calves, my thighs, higher, higher. Alton gets hard watching us. I close my eyes and lose myself in the feeling.

Chris slides his hand over my flat stomach and cups my breasts. He rubs them over and over, feeling their shape and curve. My breathing gets heavy. He moves to my arms, hands, fingers, clavicle, neck. He stops. I open my eyes and I'm temporarily blinded by the stage lights.

Alton cinches a chain around my neck and tests the tautness. He grasps the leash in his hands and yanks me to my knees. His massive dick is already out. I swallow him up.

I bob rhythmically while licking his frenulum and all up and down the shaft. I feel the outline of his veins with my tongue. He thrusts further down my throat. I grab onto his firm ass with both hands and push it in more. My lips press against his skin and his pubic hair tickles my nose. My throat clenches around his cock.

Chris grabs me harshly by the hair. I fall to the ground and Alton uses the leash to pull me up. I look to center stage and see Chris has set up some kind of terrifying sex machine. I reason that it's probably fine since no one pre-cleared it with me, but I'm still unsettled. Chris gives me a tiny nod while his back is turned to the audience. I relax.

It's a modified weight bench with a padded seat, back, and armrests. There's some kind of phallic object in the middle. It's soft rubber with strange ridges. I crawl on all fours with Alton holding the leash. He slaps my ass with the chain every couple of steps.

I stand next to the chair and Alton lubes me up. He moves his fingers in and out until they glide. Everything is shiny and slippery.

Alton carefully helps me onto the chair. I gasp when the object enters me and exhale an orgasmic sigh when it's all the way in. It fits every contour of my body.

Chris and Alton strap me down so I'm immobilized. Chris picks up a small remote and they both stand off to the side. Sweat trickles down my body from the stage lights. My legs are wide open.

The device begins to pulsate and throb. It explores parts of my body that I never knew existed. It thrusts and expands and gives me tiny electrical jolts that feel like static. It stimulates the deepest, most hidden parts of my clitoris. It makes me see God.

I climax almost immediately, but it doesn't end. The orgasm is endless and overwhelming. I forget who I am. I forget where I am. I forget about the audience. It's incredible. I can't escape.

There's a new buzzing sensation between my legs. Alton has a vibrator. He's on his knees and all I can see is the top of his head. He begins by circling my clitoris. He applies pressure hard and fast. It's like I'm surrounded.

Alton turns off the vibrator and adjusts the seat to give him a better angle to penetrate me. Chris keeps working the remote. Alton puts more lube on and I shiver from the cold. I relax my body and prepare to take all of him inside me. I take a deep breath.

He enters my pussy, slowly at first, then all of him at once. I feel so full I could burst. I feel his pulse inside me. He sinks heavily onto my body. He wraps the chain around his fist and pulls it while he fucks me.

Chris goes full tilt on the device for the grand finale. Alton fucks with impeccable rhythm. His chest glistens with sweat and oil.

Alton reaches down, grabs the vibrator, and presses it on my clitoris as he thrusts. Alton brings his chest close to mine. He puts his arms up between our faces and blocks out everything else. The vibrator buzzes, the device is going insane, and he's fucking my brains out.

He leans in and kisses me on the mouth. No one can see our faces. He keeps thrusting. There's a slight fog of smoke in the air.

"This is for me," he says quietly.

I get a new burst of energy and fuck him back. My heart races. I close my eyes. I let go.

*

Originally published in "Stories To Bang By, Vol. 10: Sex Work"