The sound of my heels clicking on the floor rang loud in my ears. Just before I reached the heavy oak door at the end of the hallway, I stopped and looked at my reflection in the window.
My makeup was too heavy—dark red lips, sultry eyeshadow, black mascara, skin flawless as porcelain—and it wasn’t noon yet. I certainly didn’t look past thirty—twenty-eight tops. My hair seemed a darker blonde than it usually was, caught in a perfect, tight chignon at the back of my head. My clothes, hidden as they were underneath the black trench coat, were as inappropriate as my war paint.
What could I say? I hadn’t dealt in appropriate since I was twenty.
The clock on the wall chimed once, and I entered without knocking. On a Saturday, the entire building was deserted, and the security guards knew better than to check this floor until they saw me leave again.
The familiar scent of dusty tomes hit my nose as I stepped into the room. Justice Dan Ponter liked to surround himself with all the paraphernalia of his profession, making lesser minds think more of him at a glance at his vast library. I doubted he knew half of the titles, or had even opened a tenth of them. What a waste. But who was I to criticize, living off the lecherous luxury of men just like him?
He glanced up briefly at the sound of the door creaking open, but before I could establish eye contact, his attention flitted back to his desk. As usual, he was wearing his black robes of office, a white shirt collar and dark tie peeking out at the top. If the brevity of his phone call earlier today was any indication, he wasn’t wearing anything but socks and shoes underneath.
Pursing my lips, I put my bag down next to the door and straightened. Fixing a stern expression on my face, I undid the belt of my coat with jerky motions, same as the buttons. Cool air hit my naked arms, legs, and the uncovered parts of my torso. I didn’t have to feign a certain air of irritation as I stalked toward his desk; today had been my day off, and while my acceptance hadn’t held a hint of displeasure, I had been looking forward to spending the afternoon lounging in sweatpants, not stalking through the city on high heels.
Ponter was still pretending to ignore me, but I was well aware of the covert way he was watching me approach. The picture window behind him caught the motion of my advance, quick flashes of skin, scantily covered in deep red and black. Sucking my breath in, I wondered if it wouldn’t have been a better idea to go with a corset that wasn’t quite as rigid as this one, but as they say, I don’t half-ass it. If the Honorable Justice asked for punishment, it was my job to deliver, on the spot.
Reaching the desk, I let my fingers caress the gleaming wood before I picked up the one object clearly not belonging there. The light rattan cane warmed quickly in my hand, the surface smooth from years of wear. It was meant for setting the mood, not for being used. Like everything else about the appointment it was right out of a dirty sex fantasy, but a mild one. I knew my limitations well enough to steer clear of anything that went beyond simple props.
I let my hips sway suggestively as I rounded the desk and stopped behind his chair, the absence of the click of my heels turning the sudden silence deafening. Exhaling slowly, I tightened my grip on the cane and brought it down onto the desk right next to his left elbow with a satisfying smacking sound. He jumped and went still, feigning surprise.
Leaning close, I made sure to give my heady perfume time to waft over him, then cooed into his ear with the sultriest voice I could manage.
“A little birdie tells me that you’ve been a bad, bad boy.”
He gave a start, the sound leaving his throat close to an excited yip. “No, no, I haven’t—”
Interrupting his protestation, I smacked the desk again, silencing him.
“Oh, yes, you have, and lying to me now won’t help you one bit.” Leaning closer still, I lightly blew air over the shell of his ear until he shuddered, then added, “In fact, it will worsen your punishment.”
Another noise of excitement came from him, rattling the cage of the persona I’d assumed. Straight up fucking was so much easier to get into, but men like him didn’t pay me what they did for a good blowjob.
“Please, Mistress, I—”
Cracking the cane once more, close enough to his hand that he must have felt the air the impact caused, I silenced him.
“You will only speak when spoken to, worm! I already tire of your whining. Now get up!”
He followed my command immediately, waiting with quivering impatience as I pushed the heavy chair out of the way with my free hand. A light nudge between his shoulder blades had him sprawling across his desk in no time, legs obediently—eagerly—spread.
Pulling up the hem of the robe revealed what I’d suspected—the lily white expanse of his ass and thighs was bare beneath his dress shirt. He even went as far as wriggling his butt at me, putting still more strain on my closely held exasperation. I didn’t let any of that show on my face, knowing that he was studying it in the mirror strategically placed on the desk.
The cane produced a nice swishing sound in the air as I pretended to hit him in earnest, but it was my bare hand that made contact with his ass cheek, and without much force at that. He yipped, then produced a fake, pained moan, and more of that as I continued to slap him. Fifteen slaps exactly, then I halted. Reaching around his hip, I wrapped my fingers around his semi-erect cock. I’d expected him to be more excited already, and added a few slaps for good measure while assuming a stroking motion with my other hand.
“Are you ready to confess yet?” I purred into his ear, clenching my fist around his dick the tiniest bit. In response, I felt his cock harden, then jerk into my hand as I continued manipulating him.
“Yes, Mistress, I’m ready to confess! I’ve been a very naughty boy!”
Letting go of him, I reached for his shoulder and maneuvered him toward the previously discarded chair. He sat down heavily, his cock bobbing with the motion, then saluting me as he settled deeper into the cushions. Following Ponter’s path, I crawled onto his lap, trying to balance as much of my weight as possible on my knees. His hands came down on my ass, groping as much as stabilizing me, but I kept staring down at him with the haughtiest expression in my repertoire. Keeping my gaze locked with his, I blindly unhooked the cup part of my corset, letting my breasts spill out, as much as they would spill. Even with the constricting garment, my cleavage wasn’t my most prominent feature.
“Worship me,” I purred at him, then leaned back until his hands were the only thing keeping me on his lap. His lips went to my tits in no time, kissing and licking with eagerness. I closed my eyes and relaxed, trying to simply enjoy the moment. I still had to get my dresses from the dry cleaner’s, and with any luck I’d be able to get some fresh groceries from the market down the street…
The slight twinge of his teeth worrying my nipple snapped my attention back to the here and now. He normally wasn’t a biter, and I doubted that my momentary distraction had been obvious—I was better than that. This left just one conclusion.
Pushing his head away with a little more force than necessary, I straightened, then slapped his cheek as softly as I dared and still make it look like a violent gesture. His head rocked back just a little bit while his fingers dug deeper into my ass, and there was something close to challenge in his gaze.
I pursed my lips and narrowed my eyes, doing my best to look displeased.
“Oh, I see, you’re a recalcitrant worm today. Don’t you dare stand up to me!”
He reluctantly let go as I got up, but sagged a little further into his seat, his legs spread languidly now. Keeping the false anger in place, I knelt down in front of him, wrapping one hand around his cock, the other around his balls. Vigorous up and down with one, light massaging motions with the other, and in no time I had him moaning in earnest. Artificial threats came rolling over my lips with not much thought behind them, but the effect they had on him was obvious. Five minutes and I had him almost ready to come; five more at a relaxed pace and more pressure on his scrotum, and I had him begging.
Of course his Mistress was easily swayed by his truthful confession now.
Fishing the condom from where I’d stowed it at the top of my silk panties, I held it up where he could see, then grabbed the wrapper tightly to tear it open.
“Mistress, please, I’m unworthy! This worm is unworthy!” he intoned, making me pause both physically and mentally. It wasn’t uncommon that he liked to add verbal play, but it had been a while since he asked for some extra. First the unscheduled appointment, now this; it made me wonder what was going on. Hopefully something that would increase the frequency of his requests, not put an end to them; as much as the role play annoyed me sometimes, Ponter was one of my favorites, and I would miss him if he quit requiring my services.
Not betraying a single one of my thoughts, I got to my feet, then turned away and walked over to my bag. A quick glance had me reaching for the opaque, red zip-lock bag, and I switched the thin condom for a thicker, structured one.
His eyes watched me eagerly upon my return, and this time his moan was real as I slid my lips over his cock. A few turns had him sufficiently lubricated and I stopped, making a big show of getting the clear penis sleeve out of the bag.
“Today you don’t deserve to enter my cunt directly,” I growled as I pushed the toy onto his cock, then added the black condom for good measure. “Your tiny cock disgusts me—why should I put up with your unworthy little-boy dick?”
I aimed for my fiercest scowl as I climbed back onto him, and mentally patted myself on the back that I’d had the foresight to lube myself up sufficiently. Ponter was nothing even close to small; in fact, his cock had the perfect size for deep, hard fucking. With the added circumference of the sleeve and the artificial sensation of the silicone conferring a drawn-out, excited state, I’d likely have ended up chafed raw depending on my body’s secretions alone.
With a decade’s worth of experience to my credentials, I didn’t even wince as I slid down smoothly on the structured condom, feeling the pleasant bumps and ridges stimulate me even if my mind wasn’t quite there yet. His hands were firmly back on my ass, and grabbing his shoulders for stability, I started humping him for all I was worth.
Ten minutes of that, then ten more with me lying face-up, five face-down across the desk, and he came with a loud shout and a last, hard thrust that rocked the furniture enough to make a stapler topple over. My accompanying enthusiasm was as loud as it was fake, but his delight lay in making his Mistress scream with his masculine prowess, so screaming was what he got. Even with the extra lube, my vagina felt vaguely abused, and I couldn’t wait to get out of the corset so I could take my first deep breath in what felt like hours.
Nevertheless, my smile was sultry and real as I turned and kissed him, letting him paw my ass some more while I discreetly pulled the condom covered sleeve from his penis and put it back into the plastic bag. The stains his cum left on the inside of his robe as he straightened it were part of the appeal for him.
Turning around, I plucked my panties back into place, then returned to my bag and discarded coat, making a show of not noticing him getting the envelope out of his desk drawer. New clients usually paid up front, but with the regulars I even accepted wire transfers if I had to. Ponter wasn’t one of those who thought they could leave an electronic trail connecting him to me, and he always had the exact amount ready, whatever extras he required. The girl I’d inherited him from had dropped him because she claimed she couldn’t handle those surprises, but I didn’t mind. He was too unimaginative to confront me with anything that went outside my comfort zone.
When I straightened, the coat once more hiding my lack of proper attire, bag resting at my right elbow, I smiled at him as I graciously accepted the envelope he held out to me. His finger lingered on the back of my hand for a moment, and the lopsided grin that appeared on his handsome face made him look like the charming guy he had set himself up as.
“I’m glad you could take me on today. I understand how bothersome booty calls must be for you.”
As if any call I got under the number he had for me was anything else.
Letting an almost coy smile be my answer, I pressed a light kiss onto his chin before I turned to leave.
“For you? Anything, anytime.”
He chuckled as he held the door for me, likely believing my lie as much as I did myself, but feeling good about it nevertheless. In the oldest profession, my profession, anything that makes my clients feel good is up for negotiation, and no one has yet accused me of not delivering what I promised. That’s what makes me a good whore.
What makes me a great whore is that—all things considered—I’m convinced that I have the best job in the world.