Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 133034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
I drop to my knees, and my breaths are hitched like crazy when I bind my tits, and strike myself with a flogger, begging for more, more, more from an imaginary crowd.
I hurt myself like I mean it. I clamp myself so tight it will feel sore for days.
I submit to imaginary, faceless forces, as I have so many times before. I give myself over to their will.
And then, finally, I snap on the latex gloves, shuffle my ass to the edge of the stage, and make a show of picking up a whole bunch of nettles before I rub them all over my pink bound tits.
Damn it fucking stings like a bastard. But that’s ok because I can clearly hear that my voyeur client is jerking off again.
I rove them over my body, leaving a trail of slicing stings that I hope my client sees from the front row, and then I play with my slit, spreading my pussy lips so he can see the nettles working their venomous magic on my clit.
I question myself, but only for a moment before I decide to go all in.
Shall I really do this? Shall I?
There is only one answer to that question.
I’m a quaking bag of nerves as I succumb to the moment and push some of those stinging leaves into my battered pussy. My wail is all real as I pick up a dildo and fuck myself through the pain.
Making myself come is a beautiful nightmare. Performing this for a client will be burnt into my memory until the end of my days.
So, there we have it. I come for the final time on the West End stage.
The encore is done and I’m tortured, stung like crazy, a dirty squirting mess.
I hope my client will never forget this show. Because I sure won’t.
My name is Ella, I say once I’m back on my feet. And I am a filth hungry whore.
I free the nettles from my pussy the very moment the fresh round of applause starts up. I’m jittery this time as I grin and jokingly curse, gathering my things together as soon as I’ve unbound my tits.
I take another bow, my skin a blotchy canvas as I hold up a hand to him.
“Thank you!” I proclaim. “Thank you so much!”
And then I retreat to the side of the stage like any regular performer would do, straight into Josh’s waiting arms.
“Fucking hell, baby,” he says. “I’ve got a raging hard-on.”
“Your dick will have to wait. Get me into that shower.”
We hurry back to the dressing room and I’m the shower quick sticks, pulling the remaining nettles from my burning pussy while Josh holds the shower head, aiming cold water at me while I breathe through the pain.
Five minutes of that and I’m feeling numb enough for Josh to finger some cream into me. Christ, what a relief.
It’s only when I step out of the shower cubicle that we both notice the huge bunch of flowers, and the card propped against it with one word written on it. Bravo!
“Wow,” I say to Josh. “I really do feel like a star.”
“You were incredible, baby. Just like I knew you would be.”
Josh takes my cases and I grab the gorgeous flowers, dressed back up in my evening gown with a furry jacket over the top.
What a bizarre experience. But what a fulfilling one.
The guard outside bids us a good evening and the review pings through just as we get in the car.
I could squeal in utter delight when it’s a five starrer.
What a performance. Truly excellent. A no holds barred display of soul and body, with an authenticity off the scale. Beautiful. Exceptional. Divine in its purity.
If you ever need a career change, consider acting, my dearest. You have a natural aptitude for it.
And thank you for an encore that I will never forget. A much deserved bonus is coming your way.
“Check your account,” Josh says.
I call up my account and his payment is there, minus the Agency’s cut – along with a ten grand bonus.
“Wow! Ten grand for a cunt full of nettles.”
“Impressive,” Josh says. “And I’ve still got a hard-on, by the way. Maybe I should give you some more cream when we get home.”
“Sounds good to me,” I tell him as we drive off.
Seems like I nailed it good.
I only hope User 4197 books me again someday, because ideas for other shows are already brewing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
As our fantastic Christmas draws even closer, the term normal when it comes to Heath Mason jangles like baubles in the festive air. Me and Josh can claim to be happy with see where the road takes us all we like, and we do, frequently, we say it all the time, but that jangle is still there. Niggling. The need for knowing is growing inside me faster than Carly’s baby bump is growing inside her.