Chapter 3
Deacon
“Since when did you get nervous breaking in a new girl?”
I scowled. I loved Leo, the guy had been my best friend since high school, but I hated it when he got crude about our kink.
“You know I hate that term,” I said.
“They use it all the time at the club with newbies,” Leo said.
“That doesn’t make it appropriate. We’re teaching them, not breaking them in like they’re goddamn horses,” I said.
“Okay, don’t get your panties in a bunch.” Leo leaned against the quartz covered island. “Doesn’t answer my question about why you’re nervous.”
“I’m not.” I wiped the dishcloth over the counter.
“Horseshit. That’s the twelfth time you’ve cleaned the counter, and you only obsessively clean when you’re nervous,” Leo said.
I sighed. “It’s apprehension, not nerves. And can you blame me? You know what happened with Eloise.”
“Sure, but that was a year and a half ago.”
“I haven’t been with anyone since Eloise.”
Leo’s eyes widened, and he scrubbed a hand through his short dark hair. “You haven’t had sex in a year and a half?”
“I’ve had vanilla sex,” I said. “Neither woman had a clue about my kink. In fact, they were both more dominant in bed, a zero on the praise kink scale, and didn’t give one fuck about being my good girl.”
“Did you even come when you fucked them?” Leo asked with his usual bluntness.
“Yes,” I said.
“But it took some work, huh?” Leo grinned at me.
I sighed. “Maybe.”
“Why did you even bother? We like what we like, man, and you’re the last person I would have thought would try to deny himself.”
I swiped the cloth over the gleaming faucet. “After Eloise, even the thought of a woman on her knees in front of me made me sick to my stomach. I thought maybe it was better to return to vanilla sex. It didn’t work.”
“She did a real fucking number on you, bud,” Leo said sympathetically.
I took a deep breath. “She did, but I’ve healed.”
“Have you?” Leo asked. “You’ve been away from the kink lifestyle for nearly two years. You haven’t even been to the club in over three years. I don’t mean to be a dick, but are you sure this is the right timing for you to break in - I mean - teach a newbie?”
I didn’t reply, mostly because I knew there was some truth to what he said. It wasn’t the best timing, and a part of me wished I’d never responded to Celeste’s email.
“You should ease back into it at the club first,” Leo said. “Hell, at least a dozen women there would be happy to be your good girl. Sabrina still talks about the life-changing orgasm you gave her, and that was five fucking years ago.”
When I continued to remain silent, he said, “I know you love the newbies, but you should be with someone who knows what to do and expect with their kink. Eloise was a newbie and look how that turned out.”
“I know,” I said with a hint of irritation. “But I can’t help what I like, and this girl Celeste and Catherine are sending me is…”
“What?” Leo asked.
“She’s beautiful,” I said. “I looked at her picture, and it was like a punch to the gut. Just imagining her on her knees had me hard as a fucking rock.”
“Tell me she doesn’t look like Eloise,” Leo said.
“She’s the exact opposite,” I said. “She’s dark-haired with brown eyes, and she’s curvy.”
“So, great tits then?” Leo asked with a grin.
“She’s beautiful,” I repeated, “and the opportunity to help her be the perfect good girl is a temptation I can’t resist.”
“Hey, I get it,” Leo said. “It’s my kink, too, remember? I just don’t want what happened with Eloise to happen here, and I can’t help feeling like returning to that damn agency is a huge mistake. You know the twin grannies only want you back for the ‘100% satisfaction guaranteed’ shit they tout to every client, right?”
“You know that calling them the twin grannies to their faces is why they suddenly stopped having any women who fit your needs, right?” I said.
Leo laughed hard. “Fuck, yeah, I know. I thought Catherine was going to slice off my head Highlander style.”
Despite my nerves, I laughed. “You’re lucky she didn’t.”
Leo just shrugged. “I prefer the club, anyway. Way less fucking expensive.”
“I appreciate you being worried, but I have a no fucking clause this time,” I said. “So, it’ll be fine.”
Leo arched an eyebrow. “Fucking wasn’t the problem, Deacon. The problem was that you became emotionally attached to a woman you paid to be your good girl. She was happy to pretend she was just as attached to you until you wanted a real relationship. As soon as you wanted it to be more than a monetary transaction, she stomped on your fucking heart and left it in the gutter.”
I tried to keep my face neutral but obviously failed miserably because guilt crossed Leo’s face, and he joined me at the counter to give me a sympathetic squeeze on the shoulder. “Sorry, I’m being an asshole.”
“You’re not. You’re just being blunt.”
“You aren’t still in love with Eloise, are you?” Leo asked.
“No,” I said.
He gave me a skeptical look, and I said, “I’m not, Leo. I swear. But what I went through with her is still painful.”
“Okay,” Leo said. “I gotta go. I have an early yoga class in the morning. What time is the new girl coming over?”
Shit! I’d lost all track of time. I glanced at my watch. “She was supposed to be here five minutes ago.”
“Uh oh,” Leo said. “Looks like your newbie got cold feet.”
Disappointment washed over me. “Looks like it.”
* * *
Riley
“C’mon,Marvin. Come on, buddy, you can do it.” I gave my car an encouraging pat on the dashboard as he shuddered and groaned his way up yet another steep hill.
I peered through the windshield, my hands clenching the steering wheel tight as Marvin crested the hill. I eased off on the gas and could almost feel Marvin’s relief as we coasted down the other side.
“Fuck,” I muttered, glancing at the dashboard clock. I was fifteen minutes late. I’d miscalculated how far out of the city this Mr. Steele lived and how steep and twisty the road would be to get to his place. Marvin wasn’t built for speed on hills.
“The Twisted Sisters are definitely gonna fire me,” I said to the empty car. My stomach clenched, and I sucked in a deep breath. I couldn’t lose my contract at the agency. My mother’s life depended on it. She had another chemo treatment coming up in less than a week, and my savings were finally completely drained. My only hope of helping them pay for it was the money I’d get from this contract. I would have to make Mr. Steele understand this isolated incident would never happen again. I would get down on my knees and beg if I had to.
Oh, you’ll be on your knees, girl.
A weird shiver of anticipation and trepidation went through me. I’d spent most of the day suppressing any and all thoughts of what I’d be doing tonight, but it wasn’t like I could keep pretending it wasn’t about to happen.
Do you want to anyway? You’re about to live out your biggest fantasy with the hottest man you’ve ever seen.
Maybe he wouldn’t be as hot in real life. Some people were just super photogenic, right? Maybe I’d get there, and he’d be average looking, and I wouldn’t feel so out of my league with him.
My phone’s GPS instructed me to take my next left, and I flicked my indicator on, turning left and squinting at the road ahead of me. About forty feet down the road, I could see the shape of a house and a light shining in the darkness to my right.
The GPS informed me my destination was ahead on the right, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I stepped on the gas, patting Marvin’s dashboard again when he protested with a low grinding noise.
I pulled into the circular driveway and parked in front of the house, pretending not to notice how Marvin sputtered when I shut him off.
“Good boy, Marv. I knew you could do it,” I said, patting his dashboard one final time.
I climbed out of the car and hurried across the driveway to the front door, shivering in my thin winter coat. Warm light spilled from the windows, and I rang the doorbell, glancing around as I waited.
The house was large and isolated, and apprehension gnawed at me. What if the guy really was a serial killer or something? I hadn’t seen another house in almost ten minutes. It wasn’t like neighbours would hear me screaming as the guy chopped me up into little bits.
Relax, drama queen. The guy isn’t a killer, just kinky.
Right. Just kinky. Like me.
The door opened, and the blast of warm air was a welcome relief against the cold. My hope that maybe Mr. Steele wasn’t as good looking as his picture suggested died a quick death. He looked even better in person, and my knees started to shake as I stared into his espresso coloured eyes.
He raised one thick eyebrow. “Can I help you?”
I swallowed hard. He knew who I was but was obviously pissed about me being late. “Hi. I’m Ri -”
Fuck! I was screwing this up already.
I cleared my throat and tried again. “I’m Charlotte.”
He stared silently at me, and unease nibbled at my insides. “From the agency? Celeste and Catherine sent me.”
“You’re late,” he said.
“I’m so sorry. Your house was farther away than I anticipated, and I had to work later than normal, and then -”
I stopped, took a deep breath, and tried to salvage the disaster as best I could. “I’m very sorry that I’m late and I assure you it won’t happen again. However, if you would like to reschedule, I completely understand.”
I couldn’t bring myself to say cancel. Not when I needed the money as badly as I did.
He studied me a few seconds longer before stepping back. “Come in.”
For the first time, my relief outweighed my apprehension. I stepped inside, my mouth dropping open as I stared at the foyer with its high ceilings, large curved staircase, and the biggest chandelier I’d ever seen.
Holy crap. The guy was rich. Maybe even millionaire rich.
I realized Mr. Steele was staring at me, and I closed my mouth with a snap, trying not to look like the poor country bumpkin I was coming across as.
“You have a beautiful home, Mr. Steele.”
“Thank you. May I take your coat?”
I unbuttoned my coat, hating how my fingers trembled and that he noticed. He hung my jacket in the closet as my nerves hit an all-time high.
Celeste had sent me an email with instructions for what to wear. Thankfully, Mr. Steele wanted me in secretarial clothes, which I had an abundance of. I couldn’t afford to buy new clothes just for a part-time job.
I crossed my arms over my torso. I wore a navy blue pencil skirt and a long-sleeved white shirt with a Peter Pan collar. Sheer stockings and low navy heels completed the outfit. I’d straightened my curly hair until it was sleek and shiny and kept my make-up minimal. Basically, I’d dressed like I would for a regular day at the office.
He studied me up and down like I was a prize he had won before saying, “Arms at your sides, Charlotte.”
Blushing hard, I dropped my arms, trying not to fidget. Embarrassment made my insides squirm when his gaze lingered first on my tits and then my hips. I stared blankly at him when he said, “Turn, please.”
“What?” I asked.
A pinched look of annoyance crossed his face. “Turn in a circle, please. Slowly.”
My face red hot, I turned slowly, my heels squeaking slightly on the marble floor. When I faced him again, he said, “You’re wearing a bra, and you have panty lines through your skirt. My instructions were clear about not wearing either, were they not?”
“Yes, but I planned on quickly taking them off in the restroom when I arrived.”
He raised an eyebrow again in a silent, judgment-filled question.
“In case I got in a car accident,” I said. “I didn’t want to be, um, underwear-less at a hospital or something. They say they don’t judge you, but they do. And I know I shouldn’t care because they’re strangers, but it’s still…”
I trailed off, realizing exactly how stupid I sounded as my voice filled the silence of that great cold chamber of a foyer.
What looked like a ghost of a smile crossed his face, but it was gone so quickly that I decided I’d imagined it.
“Follow me,” he said.
My hands sweating so much I could barely hold my purse strap, I followed him up the staircase. He wore a light grey dress shirt that clung to his broad shoulders and tailored black pants. I tried not to stare at his ass as we climbed the stairs, but I was only human, and Mr. Steele had a beautiful butt. We went right at the top of the staircase, and he paused in front of the first door. “This is the guest bathroom. When you’re finished, join me in my office.” He pointed to another door on the opposite side of the hallway. “We’ll review my rules and expectations before we begin the session.”
“Okay,” I said.
Another flicker of annoyance crossed his face before he walked away.
I stepped into the bathroom. Holy shit. His guest bathroom was bigger than my bedroom. I studied myself in the mirror above the sink. I had a pinched look of worry on my face, along with a healthy dose of fear.
I took a deep breath. “You’re not afraid, Riley. Everything will be fine. Sure, you’ll most likely have the dick of the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen in your mouth at some point this evening, but no biggie. You’ve sucked dick before, and at least this time, you’ll get more than bad tasting cum in your mouth and a sore jaw.”
My brain immediately shied away from outright acknowledging I was about to get money for providing a sexual service. I couldn’t blame it. It’s not like I’d ever imagined that I’d be a sex worker at twenty-five years old, but you did what you had to do for your family, right? And while my parents might be emotionally distant, they still loved me, and if the roles were reversed, they’d do whatever was necessary to save my life.
I quickly shimmied out of my panties and bra and stuffed them into my purse. I studied my chest, hating how droopy my tits were. I wore bras that made my large breasts look perky and perfect, and it was usually months before I let a new boyfriend see me walking around without a bra. It was much easier to make my breasts look good when lying naked in bed, not so much when gravity was actively working against me.
He’s not your boyfriend.
Inner Riley made an excellent point. This wasn’t a relationship. This was a job. If Mr. Steele didn’t like how saggy my tits were, he wouldn’t book me again. Simple as that.
Which means you’ll be stuck picking one of those stone faced angry men from Catherine and Celeste’s list.
I pushed that thought out of my mind and stood straight, pushing my shoulders back and telling myself it made my boobs look a little less droopy. I took a deep breath before whispering to my reflection, “You can do this, Riley.”
My legs trembling, I walked to Mr. Steele’s office. I left my purse in the hallway and knocked on the open door.
“Come in, Charlotte.”
I stepped into the room, studying my surroundings. Expensive looking art covered the cream walls, and a cherry wood desk with a leather chair sat in front of a large window. The far wall had a matching cherry wood filing cabinet and a bookcase stuffed full of books and nothing else. Mr. Steele was not a tchotchke kind of guy. Heat radiated from the gas fireplace, and the leather couch in front of it looked like it cost more than my car.
Across the room was a small writing desk with an accessory drawer and gunmetal steel legs. A leather office chair, smaller and more compact than Mr. Steele’s, was pushed up against it, and a slim black laptop sat on the shiny desk surface.
Weirdly, matching blue cushions sat on the hardwood floor just to the left of the door and beside Mr. Steele’s desk. Why would he have cushions on his floor? Did he like to sit on the floor like a little kid when -
The reason for the cushions washed over me in an instant, sending fiery heat to my cheeks and a weird pulse to my core. The cushions were for me, a kind gesture to protect my knees from the hardwood.
Another hot pulse went through my pussy. I would be kneeling for this man right here in the office while he called me his good girl and made me do things to him that I was embarrassingly excited about.
It’s fine, Riley. Everyone has kinks. It’s normal.
I realized that Mr. Steele was staring silently at me as I studied his office. Embarrassed, I said, “I like your office.”
“Thank you. In the future, when a play session has started, you will not speak unless given permission.” Mr. Steele stood from behind his desk.
Fuck. I was screwing this up already.
“Okay,” I said.
That now familiar annoyance appeared on his handsome face. “During a play session, you will refer to me as Mr. Steele or sir. When asked a yes or no question, you will respond with yes, sir, or no, sir. You do not respond with ‘okay’. Is that clear?”
Fuck me. Of course, he would want to be called sir. Was I deliberately trying to fuck this up?
“Yes, sir,” I said quickly.
“Good.” He joined me by the door and scanned my body, his gaze lingering on my breasts. My nipples were hard, more from nerves than lust, and visible through my white blouse. His dark eyes gave away nothing as he studied them. When I started to squirm, he gave me a sharp look. “No fidgeting, please.”
Embarrassed, I straightened my shoulders and stared across the room, keeping my body still. His deep voice made my insides flush with warmth when he said, “Better.”
He pointed to the cushion by the door. “On your knees, Charlotte.”
Oh fuck, this was it. I was about to have a stranger’s dick in my mouth. My legs trembling, I took a few steps to the cushion. I was completely thrown off kilter. I’d assumed Mr. Steele would have more rules than calling him sir and not fidgeting. I wasn’t prepared to go directly into the dick sucking.
My nerves got the best of me when I tried to kneel. Once I unlocked my knees, I lost all of my natural grace, and I looked like an unhinged toy falling onto the pillow. I pitched forward and caught myself with my hands on the hardwood. My face flaming red with shame, I straightened and stared up at Mr. Steele.
“Hands in your lap,” he said.
I placed them in my lap, and he watched how they trembled before he said, “Are you ready, Charlotte?”
My gaze dropped to his crotch, and I took a deep breath. “Yes, sir.”