Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
It would mean never seeing Tiffany again.
But that’s only one of the thoughts that’s going to see me sleepless, tossing and turning for nights on end. The thought of Tiffany here, being used for other men’s pleasure, is sitting like a lead brick in my stomach, and the thought of taking pleasure from another woman does nothing for me at all.
I survey the crowd around the table in horror, masked behind a paper thin veil, because I know the road ahead has hazard warning lights flashing all over it. There’s way too much at stake to pull crazy road stunts in this fraternity and come out unscathed.
This is absolute madness, and it should stop, for both Tiffany’s sake as well as mine.
If I could pull over on the hard shoulder, I would do, but I’m already too intoxicated at the wheel to entertain the thought.
It’s almost midnight by the time my driver arrives and Len hands me back my coat at the front door. The others are still chatting away now that Carson’s arrived. They only just opened another vintage bottle of scotch.
“Goodnight, Mr Sinclair,” he says, and I slap him on the shoulder.
“It’s Reuben, remember? And pass on my love to Georgie. I hope his appointment goes well.”
“I’ll let you know on Tuesday.”
Shit. Of course. Tuesday.
I’m supposed to be fucking Harlot’s ass in 48 hours’ time.
“Night, Len,” I say, and step out into the relief of the cold December air, enjoying a moment of the chill before my driver opens the car door for me.
As we drive away, I know there is no way I’ll be able to handle it. I don’t want to fuck Harlot, no matter how entertaining an entertainer she can be. There is only one woman I’m interested in, and I stalk her calendar yet again through my founder login.
I don’t know what the point is, seeing as I already know what her plans are.
Tomorrow evening she’ll be playing kitty for one of her regular clients.
I’ve read every single one of the reviews he’s left for her and read every single one of their proposals. So much for having a stalker fantasy, I’m becoming one in real life, and have been from the moment she walked into the grotto.
I could postpone or cancel her booking at the click of a button, and my finger hovers, tempted. I don’t want her to be kitty for an old man with a pet play kink, and would happily compensate her the £12000 she’ll get from the experience ten times over.
But I have no right to make that decision.
Tiffany can be kitty all she wants to. The choice is hers to make, not mine.
“Doing anything special for Christmas, Mr Sinclair?” my driver asks.
Tiffany’s cheeky smile comes immediately to mind.
“Nothing planned as yet,” I tell him.
But that’s a lie.
I’ve subjected Creamgirl to every kink and filthy fetish there is – apart from one thing.
Having our entertainers hooded for the founders has one drawback. There is no access to their mouth.
“If you don’t mind me saying, Mr Sinclair, but with the amazing work that you do, Santa deserves his own special time.”
Yes, a special time, kissing that gorgeous mouth. Tasting her. Sinking my cock down her throat. My cock swells just thinking about it.
“I’m sure something will come up,” I tell him.
12
TIFFANY
User 290. Male. 63.
Here, kitty kitty.
You’ve been away for quite a while, and I want my pussycat home, where she belongs.
You’ll be chastised for being a bad kitty, because good kitties never leave their owners and run away – but once you’ve learnt your lesson, I’ve got some treats for you.
I want my pussy cat around for a long evening, and I expect to play kitty games the way we always play them.
Cat outfit, and nothing but meows, please. Food from your bowl only. Plenty of ‘fuss’ on the sofa with your owner, and being a good kitty as you sit on his lap.
And not forgetting the litter tray, of course.
Duration: 9 hours.
Proposal price: £12,000.
User 290 has become one of my favourites. I’ll be a good kitty for him tonight.
I’m careful as I put my cat headband in my bag, not wanting to damage the fluffy ears, because he deserves the best looking kitty he can get, but I prepare myself with my cat tail butt plug before I go. It’s too much of a struggle to try to work that thing into my ass when I’m mewling outside his door.
Pet play was never something on my radar before I joined the Agency. Dressing up as a cat for nine hours straight was never a game I imagined playing, but it’s actually good fun. I love being a pussy who is having her pussy used, and User 290 is a very good owner.
It will get my mind off Reuben too, which is a sensible blessing. I have to laugh at myself in the mirror as I give my lip gloss a final check. What the fuck ever. My mind has been on Reuben every single second since I left Evesham. I’ve been avoiding Josh and Ella like the plague, since Josh would notice my glee in a heartbeat. I’m like a bloody schoolkid crushing over a heartthrob.