What I would have given to take this man's cock out and take it in my mouth, roll it around on my tongue, and make it hard and stiff and then... I would have taken him anywhere. Anywhere he wanted to stick it, I would have moaned and taken it deep. How long had it been since I'd had good S&M sex, been pushed down and fucked hard and silly and then been beaten and fucked again? After work I was usually too tired, too used-up to troll the straight clubs, and the Eden customers and staff, the only "scene" people I knew, were strictly off-limits to contact off the clock.

I looked at Gorgeous. Did I dare try to meet him later? I'd never attempted anything like that before, but I was so, so fucking horny, and his appraising, level stare and Adonis body weren't helping to cool me off. I tried to infuse a spark of maybe into the I'm yours in my eyes.

"We're not allowed to do any type of fluid exchange here, Master."

To Joel, I hoped it sounded like I was just telling Gorgeous the rules. But I pointedly added the here. I hoped Gorgeous heard it. I think he did, because he glanced at Joel, then walked over to the wall of whips, paddles, and floggers impatiently.

"So what, I can just whip you, huh? What if it gets me off and some fluid exchange just...happens?"

I smothered a smile. "As long as it's not from penetration."

"Can I come on you?"

I whispered, "Not here."

"Where?" he whispered back.

I looked up at Joel pointedly from under my lashes. Gorgeous sighed in frustration and picked up a wicked-looking leather paddle and lifted me from my knees. He walked me to the couch.

"Bend over."

God, I wanted him to fuck me. I went up on my toes, my stocking-covered legs tensing as I waited. I tried to make my ass look irresistible.

Ow! Fuck. Fuck.

Fuck.

It occurred to me that bulging, golden muscles instead of the typical flabby limbs came at a price. Particularly when those muscles wielded an instrument that already imparted a hearty sting. He rained blows on my ass like a jackhammer, with no moderate warm-up strokes and no pauses to adjust to the pain. I danced from foot to foot and bit my lip hard as the deep, stinging pain suffused my cheeks.

A fucking amateur. Definitely not a dom.

I looked over at Joel in the corner, his arms crossed over his broad chest. Was the fucker smirking? He knew as well as I did when a client didn't know what he was doing, and this one clearly didn't. He wouldn't step in, though, not unless I used my safe word and the client kept going.

And no way was I using a safe word. I needed sex from this man, I really did. But ow!

Jeez, how did these guys get past the front door? Well, I knew how this one got in. His body, his gorgeous face. He was definitely a Los Angeles pretty boy. I wasn't even sure he was totally straight, although he acted straight and dominant enough. He acted. That was the weird thing. I got the feeling he wasn't that into what he was doing.

Well, a lot of people came to experiment here in a safe, nonbinding place, to see if the "lifestyle" was for them. If you tied up and beat the shit out of your high school sweetheart and decided it wasn't for you after all, it was a lot more uncomfortable a situation than finding out by beating on a stranger you'd never see again.

I whimpered and fidgeted as he went to town. It wasn't an act on my part. It fucking hurt, and soon the fire in my ass reached crisis proportions.

"No severe marking," I finally said when it looked like Joel wasn't going to help me out.

"What?" He leaned close to me.

I let the pretense fall away. He knew I knew he wasn't a dominant. "You're hitting too hard."

"I want to see you somewhere outside of here."

"I'm not supposed to," I whispered.

He pulled back and landed a few more lackluster blows for Joel's benefit. "I'll give you what you deserve, you little slut," he declared in a stern, faux-dominant voice.

I stifled laughter, turning my head as he leaned down again to whisper in my ear.

"I'll give you two thousand dollars if you'll see me tonight at your place."

I shouldn't have said yes. I really shouldn't have. But I heard myself tell him my phone number and that I got off work at two.

The rest of the night at work was a blur. I vacillated wildly between uncontrolled horniness and horror at what I'd done. I finally convinced myself that when he called I wouldn't answer. But I answered, of course, and I told him where I lived. I called my friend Alexis to let her know what was going on, and then frantically tried to remember whether I had pepper spray in the house. But I didn't, I knew I didn't. I was ninety-eight percent sure I wouldn't need it anyway. I figured Mr. Gorgeous was just a vanilla boy with a little bit of kink inside and nowhere to let it loose. I didn't get a sociopath vibe from him. No. He wanted something else.

He knocked on my door at two thirty sharp. I had on a nice, tight little fuck-me dress I could shimmy out of quickly, and my naughtiest thong underneath. I tried to look like I wasn't anxious and wet as hell to see him.

"Hi," I said.

"Hi," he replied awkwardly. It occurred to me that neither one of us knew what the hell was going on. Okay. I would set some parameters.

"I want to tell you first thing that I made a safe call."

He looked nervous for a second.

"What's a safe call?"

"I called a friend to let her know you were here, and that if I don't call her in the morning, to call the cops. That they would know you at the club."

"Oh, okay," he said. "I guess that's smart. But I have no intention of hurting you or killing you or anything like that." He half smiled, half smirked at me.

Gorgeous man, he flirted. But he wasn't a dom. I locked the door and leaned back against it, looking at him expectantly.

"So what is it you want? Because I don't think you're really into S&M."

He met my eyes. Guilty. He smiled self-consciously, but his fingertips reached out to touch my waist and trail down over my hips.

"You can tell? I guess after all this time you know it. How long have you been...working as a sex slave?"

"I'm not a sex slave," I murmured, letting his fingers slowly lift the hem of my dress and brush across the tops of my thighs. "But you promised me two thousand dollars for seeing you outside the club, and I'll need it up front."

"So you're a whore," he said, so quietly I almost didn't hear him. But I did.

"Call it what you want." I put my hand over his before it snaked between my legs. "The money first."

"Are you worth it?"

"I'm worth it, yes. Do you have it?"

With a peeved look, he took out his wallet and removed a stack of bills. He handed them to me, but before he let go, he said, "This is for sex, right? There are no rules about fluid exchange here?"

I hesitated. What were the rules here? I was whoring myself, which was a first. I accepted money for "sex" every night at Club Eden, but that was only mental sex, psychological fucking, spanking and toys and silly scenes, prostitution within the confines of the law. This man wanted actual prostitution, to penetrate me for money. More than once, I assumed.

"You have to use a condom," I finally said. "For everything. And you can't scar me or draw blood."

"Jesus." He let go of the money. "I don't know what kind of people you usually hang out with, but I'm not into making chicks bleed."

"Good. Do you have condoms?"

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a handful. "They had them at the door of the club. Which is why I thought it was weird that no fucking was allowed."

"Fucking's allowed, only not with the staff. Couples fuck there all the time. Are you married?"

He laughed. "No."

"Just like to fuck around? Try new things?"

He shrugged, looking at me almost defensively. "I have a friend. He's really into this stuff."

"And you wanted to give it a try?"

He laughed again. "Give it a try. Yes."

I wasn't sure what the fuck was so funny, but then his fingers were on me again, and he was drawing up my hem and discovering my thong.

"Okay," I said. "Do you want me to help you, or do you want to do things on your own? I mean, do you want to fuck me as a dominant? You want me to be submissive for you?"

"Yes, I want you to be submissive. Like my...slave."

"Okay. And you know what to... I mean, I can sort of teach you how to be an effective dom, if you want."

"No, I kind of know."

"From your friend?"

He nodded.

"He let you watch. And you liked it. He has a slave?"

"Yeah. Sort of."

"Okay. But just so you know, this is just...business. For now, during this session, I'm your slave. Afterward I'm a person again."

"You're not really into this? In real life?"

"No, I mean, I am." His hands, God, they were talented. He found my clit like a hound on the scent. It was getting harder to concentrate. "I...I love being submissive."

"But on your own terms."

"No. It's not... I'm just not available right now."

"You have a boyfriend." He pulled my thong down, letting it fall at my feet.

"No. I don't. I'm just not a lifestyler. I can't be submissive all the time. I choose not to be."

"Only sometimes. When someone's paying you."

"When I want to be submissive, I'm submissive. Is that enough for you?" I said, half-horny, half-annoyed by his insistent line of questioning.

"Yes. What's your name?" he asked me then. "Is it really Little Nell?"

"It's Nell. Just Nell."

"Well, Nell," said Mr. Gorgeous. "I just want to fuck you silly. Is that enough for you?"

"Yes, Master. I'm yours."

I'm yours. I've said it a thousand times in my line of work, and it never fails to give me a shiver, make me a little wet. I'm yours, now what will you do with me?

"I want you to kneel down and suck me first."

Mmm. Good line, delivered well, like a real dom. I was pretty certain he'd heard it from his "friend." I hoped his friend was a really good lover, because I had a feeling I was about to reenact a scenario Mr. Gorgeous had already viewed and liked a lot. I felt, for a moment, that his friend was a third party in our illicit little rendezvous.

I took his shirt off first, selfishly, because I wanted to see him fully unclothed. Naked, perfect male. His abs were tight, defined bunches of muscle. I wanted to outline each one with my tongue and then lick him from his neck all the way down to his- Focus.

I knelt and took my time undoing his belt and unbuttoning his seven-hundred-dollar jeans, daydreaming about doing him and his dom friend at the same time.

Rich boys and their naughty habits. Gorgeous looked to be in his early twenties. I was twenty-eight, and I didn't think he was as old as me. Just a young rich boy sowing wild oats. I would show him wild if he wanted it. I'm sure he had no idea how horny I was.

By the time I got his pants off, he was already rock solid. I rolled on a condom as deftly and sexily as I could and took him in my mouth.

God, I wanted it. A big, hard cock jammed in the back of my throat. I'd had a cock like this, attached to a great, straight, dominant, loving man, but he'd left me. Douglas. I hadn't been enough for him. I'd tried to be, but working at the club and needing time for myself, I had never been enough. But this man, he only wanted me right now. One night. One night, I could manage.

Well, manage was one word for it. I licked his rigid tool, reveling in its masculine power, exploring it from base to hard tip until he lost patience and nudged it between my lips. I salivated for him, opened wide for him to take me. For once I wasn't even bothered by the bitter taste of latex. I was too enthralled by the way he completely filled my mouth. His musky, male scent sent me deep into the throes of submission, and the fact that he was a stranger added an extra kinky thrill. I wanted to give him the best hummer he'd ever had, one he'd remember when he was in his eighties. I wanted to show him how much I appreciated his perfect body.

I cupped his balls and tried to coax him deeper into my throat. He made a guttural noise and placed his hands on either side of my head, just light pressure. When I moaned, he tightened his hold and started to fuck my face. I faltered for a moment, terrified that I might gag, but he slowed and let me find a rhythm. I settled into accommodating his deep thrusts, and soon I managed to wrench some erotic groans from him. He stopped abruptly.

"I want to come on you."

I pulled away and whipped off the condom. For two thousand bucks, sure. I expected the facial, but he yanked at my dress.

"I want to come on your tits."

A tit man. Okay. He shot hot cum over my chest, and I received it like a gift. Douglas used to make me rub it all in and lick my hands. Gorgeous rubbed it in himself and got sidetracked pinching and squeezing my nipples. A tit man all the way. Ohhh...and I loved tit men. He leaned closer and I braced for pain, but instead he only tapped the taut peaks. Not flicked them. Tapped them. I'd never had my nipples tapped this way, and I was surprised by how intense it felt. It wasn't pain. It was a tease. It made me fidget and left me craving more. With each light tap my clit throbbed. I moaned and leaned into him, desperate for some kind of relief, but he only stroked and tapped my nipples until they were hard as stones. Then he closed his fingers on them and twisted so hard a gasp of protest came to my lips. Fire shot straight to my center. He watched my reaction in a strange, detached manner.

"Do you have any of those, what do you call them? Clips? Clothespins?"

"I have some nipple clamps, Master."

"Go get them. And don't call me Master, that's weird. Just call me Kyle."