AD Quod damnum
Thwap! Thwap!
Olivia dug her high heels into the soft white carpet of the lush bedroom she and her client were currently occupying inside of his guest house. She raised her arm swiftly and viciously slapped the leather barbed wire flogger against the older man’s back. Her green eyes narrowed in displeasure at the weak sound of her sharp grunt of exertion at the painful movement. Her right arm twinged painfully, and she briefly gave herself a reprieve to rest.
I’m so tired,she thought wearily.
She closed her eyes in irritation. Mentally detesting herself for accidentally having shown any vulnerability around this particular client. She stiffly rolled her shoulder, waiting for the tingles in her arm and fingertips to cease before reaching up to push a thick lock of silky dark red hair behind her ear.
Breathing hard, Olivia took a second to concentrate on the fiery burn of the air going in and out of her lungs, listening to her client’s pathetic yells before raising the flogger one more time. Closing her eyes again with a grimace, she barely managed to stifle a moan as her right arm spasmed in earnest this time. She mentally coached her way through the pain, thankful that the older judge couldn’t see her.
Olivia blew out a slow, calming breath, wishing she had some strong pain medicine to help her tonight.
“NO, please Mistress Kat. I’ll be a good boy!” the older man’s sniveling caused her stomach to flip a nauseating somersault in her belly.
God he”s pathetic, she thought sadly.
Her annoying intrusive thoughts started bleeding in, interrupting her focus on delivering for her client. Her fury at having to do this for money drove her motivation to finish this session on a high note because she was compensated for this service wonderfully. So, she always delivered.
No matter what.
No matter the intense pain, her annoyance, her hunger, or the lack of sleep. She delivered.
Olivia quietly waited for another heartbeat. Drawing out her client’s tension before landing the flogger in a final crushing blow against his reddened back. Right on the rawest part of his expansive strip of bare skin.
Her client let out a pathetic howl as he strained hard against the cuffs that she’d tied him to the bedpost with. His white wrists were turning raw, red, and angry looking. However, she didn’t care. Having warned him at the beginning of their session that if he pulled against the restraints, then that was the consequence and now he was paying for it.
She wanted to charge him more for his disobedience.
Olivia again considered becoming a FinDom, wondering if she’d be as successful at swindling men out of their money as she was beating them for it. With the way her arm stung, she knew she’d have to figure out a secondary plan before she caused the injury to be permanent.
Stepping back, she readjusted her leather bustier before rubbing her arm hard. Pressing her fingers into her soft flesh, she bit her lip to stifle another moan. It was incredibly sore tonight, the pain sharp. Her client said he’d pay extra for another thirty minutes of beatings. Needing the money, she accepted despite her injury.
She spent the first hour whipping him with a basic flogger, then a chain flogger that she’d cooled down in the freezer. It was perfect for dragging on the judge’s hot, abused skin. Then she pulled out the barbed wire flogger for the last half hour. Giving the man his money’s worth.
She always believed in giving someone what they paid for.
However, Olivia had been in serious pain the last several weeks. Not being used to supplying such a strenuous work over like she’d been giving the judge. She vowed to go back to only spending an hour per client. Or attempting to learn how to use her left arm, but she just didn’t have the same strength as her right side.
Bending down silently, she slipped her fishnet stocking covered feet out of her sensible black heels. She wiggled her toes in relief before she stepped into eight-inch platform spiked heels before walking to him and uncuffing him.
Almost done tonight.
“You’ve been a naughty boy. Haven’t you, Judge Carmichael? I’m not convinced you can be good. Can you?” Olivia crooned, masking the pain in her voice by sheer will alone.
She leaned down and roughly snatched his head back by his silver hair. Placing a kiss against his cheek, she left a red lipstick print on the flushed skin of the supreme court judge. She rolled her eyes at the sickening sight of her lipstick on his skin, curling her lip in disdain of this man.
Perusing his form once more, she let him see her green eyes assess him coldly, wanting him to see her displeasure.
Tilting her head, she took in judge Carmichael’s six-foot one frame, stocky build, and silver hair at fifty-eight years old. He was slightly hairy, and bushy eyebrows framed gray eyes that sat in a sharply defined face that boasted a square chiseled jaw, full lips, and smooth skin. He was not an unattractive man. But at thirty-five years her senior, she didn’t look at him sexually at all.
That was not her understanding of this peculiar situationship that they found themselves in.
However, that didn’t stop judge Carmichael from letting Olivia know he wanted more than dominatrix services from her. He’d asked for more, wanting to take her out properly. Offering to bring her out of the lifestyle and professed he desired to make an ‘honest’ woman of her.
The first year of him commissioning her services, he’d asked constantly for sex. And she almost dropped him as a client. So, he learned to back off.
Nothing had changed in the past four years. He still wanted more, all he demanded from her was for her to give up the lifestyle. And he wanted her to add something to her weekly services with him. She frowned deeply, remembering the night he requested another service.
The judge’s initial request had made her rush to the bathroom and vomit it”d shocked her so badly. His request was so disgusting, degrading, that she vigorously attempted to erase the image that it brought to her mind. She tried hard not to think of it.
Most of her clients paid her for beating, degradation, and sexual dominatrix services. However, she was one of the few females in the underground sex ring who didn’t engage in sexual services. And she was one of five who didn’t let her clients take pleasure from her body. She brought pain only, and that was nonnegotiable.
However, it didn’t stop the judge from asking her yet again to do that thing he liked. And he’d recently brought it up again, asking for seven weeks straight.
She wouldn’t budge on her decision.
“Yes! Yes, I can! Let me prove it!” the judge panted in his deep voice, groaning as Olivia tightened her fingers even harder against his scalp, digging her nails in and scraping gently. He moaned in pleasure as she roughly shoved his head forward, flexing her fingernails against his skin hard.
“Lay down on your stomach, you piece of shit. You sicken me,” Olivia hissed into his ear, waiting for the judge to comply. She rolled her eyes again; grateful he couldn’t see her facial expression as he got himself into place for her. She turned her eyes to the timer perched the bed, wishing the last few minutes to fly by.
She was ready to go home and sleep.
Olivia gingerly placed a sharp heel into his back and used the bedpost to steady herself as she found her balance. The judge let out a harsh groan as both of her heels dug into his back painfully. Sniffing with disgust, she put all her weight on the delicate tips. She swallowed back the revolting feeling of them sinking into the muscle beneath her, and began slowly shuffling across his back.
She hurtled random insults at him until the chime of her phone alarm went off, informing them both that his time was up.
Stepping off his back, she smoothed her hands down her thighs. Readjusting her lacy masquerade mask with one hand, she swiped the phone silent with the other. She untied the judge and watched with arms crossed as the man got up with effort.
Judge Carmichael rose to his feet with a grimace on his face before turning to her and giving her an embarrassed smile. She let him stretch in silence for a second before speaking, noticing the man consistently kept himself in good shape.
“I believe the agreement was an extra one thousand dollars for the additional thirty minutes. With another four hundred for the walking service, on top of our regular hourly fee?” Olivia clipped, business-like.
With supreme effort she kept her tone purposefully bored. She didn’t want her clients to delude themselves into thinking that her services included warmth, sex, or anything mushy. She didn’t do mushy; it just wasn’t in the cards for her, and she’d accepted that long ago.
The older man huffed out a breath, still trying to come down from his high, or whatever sick thing he got from her services. He nodded before going into his closet. Olivia took off the sky-high heels before slipping on a pair of tennis shoes. She listened to the muted beeping as the he entered the code into the safe that was concealed within his closet.
Raising her phone, she beat out a quick text to her connect and boss Gypsy. Letting the woman know she was about to leave her client for the night.
Olivia stood there impatiently. Listening to him rustling around for a minute before reappearing through the door with a thick wad of cash, counting out the bills. Judge Carmichael finished and then handed the wad to her, eyeing her form lustily.
She scrunched her nose at the sight of his desire for her, her lip slightly curling.
Olivia was relieved that she’d already pulled on a light jacket, covering the bustier from his gaze and leaving her leather pants and mask on. She didn’t need him to know what she looked like. That was her business, not his.
Not that he hadn’t attempted multiple times to make it his business. He’d propositioned her several times over the last four years. However, he would not accept any other woman in the underground network that Gypsy built. He iterated strongly that he only wanted ‘Kat’, the name of her alter ego. And to sweeten the deal, he’d paid her more than any other woman was making at the time to keep her.
Consequently, the other clients all caught wind of the arrangement and it caused a ripple effect throughout the underground ring. The clients paid a premium to keep their services, and the women got to have steady clients. And everyone was content in their own version of their happily ever after.
Except judge Carmichael, who continued to badger her for more than her services. And it was annoying.
So, Olivia put firm boundaries in place to ensure that all the men in her clientele folder knew to never expect anything more than what she was. Gypsy’s top beater. The head bitch of the networking escort ring called Esmerelda. Which is truly the only reason she even agreed to work for Gypsy.
She had a thing for fairy tales, storybooks, and escapism.
The judge watched intently as she silently counted out the money. Three thousand, four hundred dollars, as agreed. She nodded briskly with a tiny smile before stuffing the cash and both pairs of her heels into a big tote bag. Staying silent, she followed him out of the room to the front door of the guest house on his property.
Hearing the muted steps of her shoes on his expensive hardwood floor, she briefly let herself admire the layout of the home.
Pausing as she did every week, she stopped and stared at the imposing oil painting of him in his robes staring down at her from its place at the top of the foyer wall. The expensive crystal chandelier illuminated his eyes that seemed to glint ominously down at her from his seat at the bench.
Olivia shivered against the icy feeling of dread that had suddenly slid down her spine and enveloped her uncomfortably.
His having her meet at his guest house had been a relatively new venture, the first three years of their partnership she”d met him in a hotel. But he offered to pay more to meet at his home.
“See you next week, Judge?” Olivia asked quietly, allowing herself to give him a small smile as he nodded his head yes. His shrewd eyes giving her another once over. She tilted her head and considered him quizzically. His expression seemed more withdrawn tonight as he walked her out. Noting the difference in his attitude, she relented and gave him a little wave as she disappeared into the greenery of the side yard. She kept her pace brisk, letting herself through the white vinyl fence to the residential street where her car was waiting.
Olivia scanned her surroundings quickly for any intruders before getting behind the wheel. She started her old beater vehicle and drove off into the night.
***
Wearily descending the outdoor steps, Olivia let herself into her plain and sparsely decorated one-bedroom apartment. She lived on the basement level; it being all she could afford.
She quickly latched the lock and deadbolt before leaning tiredly against the door and looking around the place with appreciation. Nice and clean, small, hers. Yet, it didn’t quite feel like home.
It never had.
Olivia limped inside and threw her clutch down onto the small side wooden table, kicking her shoes off one by one. Leaving them haphazardly on the rug in front of the door as she carried her tote to her bedroom, turning on lights as she made her way through the small space. Glancing at her intricately made bed enviously, she dropped her tote on it before digging out the heels and the money. She turned and opened her closet door, pulling out a shoebox that was hidden inside of a box underneath some old scarves.
Out of habit, she reached forward and grabbed a white handkerchief from the bundle of scarves. Holding it to her nose, she closed her eyes and let herself breathe, trying to remember the scent that was no longer there.
Dad,Olivia let herself feel grief for a split second before putting the handkerchief to the side. Sighing, she pushed the other scarves aside as well and grabbed up the top, her green eyes scanning the hundreds of hundred-dollar bills nestled neatly inside.
Olivia quickly dumped it all out onto her bed. Counting the bands quickly as she had them wrapped in thousand-dollar increments, she placed the money she”d made today in with the loose bills. Making another solid band. She sighed with relief, her left-hand curling behind her hair and rubbing the back of her neck. She had just barely made the money she needed by the deadline, same as last month.
Stuffing the bills back into the shoebox and replacing everything neatly, Olivia turned to walk into her bathroom. Seeing the makeup brushes and makeup placed haphazardly all over the vanity. She’d worked late at her day job at a local diner and barely had time to come home earlier, make herself up and dress before her appointment with the Judge.
She began cleaning. Quickly closing make-up compacts and putting away brushes, before reaching under the sink for a disinfectant wipe. She winced as she gave her vanity a good scrub with her right arm before throwing the wipe in the bin.
Breathing a sigh of relief at her bathroom coming to order, Olivia undressed and stepped into a steaming hot shower. She groaned as she closed the rubber duck shower liner too hard, tearing it from one of its clamps on the rusty rod it was attached to.
She hummed a small tune as she relaxed, scrubbing the day away.
Though at midnight it was almost a new day, and Olivia knew she couldn”t look forward to getting anywhere near a good night of sleep. Especially with her arm pulsing and burning the way it was.
Stepping out of her bathroom naked and into the comfort of her bedroom, she didn”t bother to put pajamas on. Olivia crawled wearily beneath the green silky sheets and texted her sister Vanessa that she would be at her house before the bank opened in the morning.
Yawning, she set the alarm on her phone for seven in the morning and went straight to sleep, not even bothering trying to find a pain pill.
She was that exhausted.