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Hey,
It’s Just a Job.
Part Three:
Well, like I told you last night the only time I can really forget the now constant pain I am in and the rapid approach of the end of my days is when I am suffering in a completely different way at the hands of Mistress XS.
This morning I am still stiff and sore from the beating she gave me last night and the safety pin through my scrotum and the weights dragging down are very uncomfortable but, as a confirmed masochist, I wouldn’t dream of cheating on her and taking them off. The drugs I am on to help ease the pain of my cancer cause my blood to thin and every time I move I add to the stains on the carpet I mentioned last night.
This morning I am also feeling a lot less capable mentally so, if you don’t mind, I am going to pass over the writing of the rest of this account to Mistress XS when she gets here this evening. It was part of the deal and I know she will honor her commitment. Why will she? I really don’t know but I get a sense that she wants to write the end just as much as I wanted to write the beginning. So I am going to sign off now and, at the risk of being boring repeat what I said earlier. Please do not feel sorry for me. I know that very soon now I shall be dead and I suspect that my end will be a little faster as a result of Mistress XS’s helpful visits. That’s perfectly OK with me as I’d much rather die in my sleep in a few days after a good thrashing from her and with a happy smile on my face, than fade away, alone and bored, over an extended period. So I’ll say good-bye and thanks for reading my account and please “stay tuned”
Mistress XS’s story:
When I got to his place tonight I let myself in with the key he gave me the other day and went into the living room looking for my usual couple of Heinekens or Becks. He knows better than to give me cats piss like Coors or Bud. It was very quiet inside and he was not in his usual chair in front of his television set. On the coffee table next to the sofa I found several typed pages he had left there for me about how he was feeling and about meeting me. Well, like he said, I did agree to finish his story – I always fancied myself as a bit of a writer and who knows, somebody might find this interesting enough to publish.
I went upstairs and found him in his bedroom, fast asleep and thought that maybe I should just leave and come back tomorrow. But, as you have probably gathered from what Derek has already written I am a heartless bitch. Just like Derek says don’t feel sorry for him. Well, don’t get mad at me either ‘cause I ‘m here at his request and I’ll do things my way no matter what you think of me.
Last night I had told him that tonight would be $1,500 and, sure enough, I had also found an envelope on the coffee table, stuffed with $20 and $100 bills. Although I am a bitch I do have some scruples and I just wouldn’t pick up the money and run off so I gently woke him up.
“What the fuck do you think you are doing?” I asked in my nicest voice.
His eyes opened, “sorry Mistress, I’m on a new drug to-day and it kind of knocked me out. I’m OK and I’ll be downstairs in a couple of minutes. There’s a six-pack of Tuborg in the fridge, and a bottle of single malt scotch on the counter as you ordered, please help yourself while I get ready”.
“Make it snappy” I said, “I don’t have all night to waste” and went down to the kitchen for the scotch and a beer chaser.
I have some plans for tonight and if they work out, and he agrees, I will really be able to make some big bucks from this guy before he croaks. Shit, there you go again saying ‘what a fucking hard-nosed bitch!’
Well, let me tell you something
I call myself Monica but that ain’t my real name for obvious reasons. I’m 41 years old and know I look about 10 years older than that on a good day. I used to be good looking in a hard sort of way but the lifestyle I’ve led for the last 20-odd years shows in my weight, my shape, my health, my looks and, most of all in my attitude. I was a regular hooker for about 15 years and a pretty good one at that. I turned lots of tricks but never got ahead financially ‘cause my no-good pimp was a greedy son-of-a-bitch and every time I asked for more cash he’d beat the crap out of me. The police never figured out exactly how he died but they left me alone, probably because they thought I’d done the city a service. My pimp didn’t tell me he was HIV so you can guess what happened to me - yea, you got it – I got it too. That’s why I did the bastard in. Being on the job you kinda get anesthetized having sex and it ain’t no pleasure, specially with your pimp – it’s just a job. But let me tell you, when I offed my pimp I had the biggest and best fucking orgasm I’d ever had in my life – it was just outta this world (so was he afterwards – hey! I oughta be a poet!). It was the way I offed him that gave me my idea for my special hospitality service.
Anyway that was two years ago and I got to thinking. No guy in his right mind is going to have sex with an HIV POS broad unless he is already in the same boat or, and here it got kinda interesting, if he didn’t care ‘cause he was dying anyway. During my last few years on the job I catered to some of the more kinky clients ‘cause they didn’t care too much about my looks, they just wanted whatever it was they wanted. The odd one wanted to be dressed in diapers and bottle fed but most of them were masochists – like the guy upstairs – and just wanted to get the crap beaten out of them or get humiliated, or both. It’s an art you, you know. Not just any girl can go into a guys place and do these things but I was dominant from the time I was about five so it came naturally to me.
So let’s get back to tonight. Derek came downstairs just as I was finishing my third Tuborg and knelt at my feet, his head lowered as instructed. “Tonight’s gonna cost you $1,500 but you’re gonna love it” I said. Now take off all your clothes and stand in front of me with your eyes closed.
I opened up my bag and took out an industrial size roll of cling-wrap. I stood up and proceeded to wrap it tightly round him, starting at his feet and working my way right up to his neck. I pushed him against the sofa and he fell on to it and from there I eased him off onto the floor and dragged him into the middle of the carpet. The next Item I took out of the bag was a black rubber mask. Which I stretched over his head until it completely covered it from the top of his head right down to his neck. There were two small circular holes cut into it, one for his nose and one for his mouth.
I took off all my clothes and threw them on the sofa. I know he mentioned to you that they were old and scruffy – well, after I’ve paid for my stabilizing drugs I ain’t got much money left over for clothes and dry cleaning I can tell you. Tonight will be good for me and if he goes along with the rest of my plan I will even be able to take a trip back east to see my old step-mom in jail (that’s another story, believe me).
“Now listen wimp. You still haven’t given me an orgasm and I’m getting real pissed off. Tonight your gonna stay there on the floor, trussed up like that until I come, and come real good. I should be charging you twice as much for this treat but I’m feeling kinda good-hearted right now.”
These guys all have one thing in common – they don’t want you fresh out of the shower – they want you to smell real good and taste real salty. Well, I like to oblige and even I turned my nose up a bit when I went down on his face. “Now all you got to work with are your mouth and nose so get busy and gimme the big one. “ I’d moved a couple of cushion off the sofa onto the floor and made myself comfortable sitting on his face. I positioned myself so that his nose was trapped in the crack of my ass but his tongue was free to take care of my labia and my clit. It was a good, well tested position to be in ‘cause if he was not doing a good job with his tongue I just sat down harder and cut off his breathing through his nose. He soon got the idea and his tongue got to work and did a pretty good job.
OK its time for me to be totally honest with you and this is why I didn’t want to tell you my real name. Like I said before, the best orgasm I ever had was when I snuffed out my pimp, sitting on his face. He struggled so fucking hard that I came for another fifteen minutes after he stopped moving. I just collapsed on top of him and woke up with his dead body beneath me, about seven and a half hours later. Since then I’ve had another three real good ones, yeah, you’ve guessed, with guys like Derek. Hey, these guys were finished anyway and I just sent them on their ways a little earlier and a fuckin lot happier. I figured when my Domme friend phoned me about Derek this could be another of my highly lucrative “Angel of Mercy” scenes. I haven’t talked about it to him yet but, hey, you’ve read what he wrote – what do you think?
Anyway, back to tonight. He was doing a real good job and several times I must have got 75% of the way there but, like all the times before, it just went flat and I zoned out again. I hit him a few times and whacked him with my walking stick making him move his head faster and that helped, but nothing came of it. I stayed on his face for over an hour but, like I said, I’m no spring chicken anymore and my arthritis was telling me it was time to quit for the night. I got off him, sat back down on the sofa and finished off the other three Tuborg beers. I looked down at Derek and could see that he was in a lot of pain and was struggling for his breath so I took the latex hood off and slit open the cling wrap, down to his waist to help him breath better. See, I am a decent person. While he was catching his breath I got dressed.
“Thank you Mistress” he gasped and asked for some water. I had a bottle of spring water in my bag and I got it out and held it to his lips and he drank from it eagerly and thankfully. (I’ll just add the cost to his bill!)
“OK. Listen to me – again you’ve failed to bring me to orgasm and I feel like I’m wasting my time here. What the hell’s the matter with you?”
“I’m truly sorry Mistress, but I am getting weaker every day and the pain is becoming too much. My doctor told me to expect this for my last month or so but it is preventing me from serving you properly. Please don’t give up on me I’ll double your fee, please Mistress?
“Well, I have got a better idea but it’s too late to talk about it tonight. I will come round tomorrow night just to talk about it – that’s all just to talk – OK?”
Yes Mistress, thank you Mistress, thank you Mistress”
“Now, I’m not the fucking Salvation Army or
“Mistress I will give you whatever you want, I need you in my life right now and I‘ll pay anything.
I think he was well and truly hooked at this point so I quickly unwrapped the rest of the cling-wrap and, get this, helped him upstairs to his bedroom – I’m turning into Florence Nightingale. I packed my gear into my bag and left his house, locking the door after behind me with his $1,500 zipped into my pocket I felt rich but, well, I got big bills to pay, so it was a Big Mac, large fries and a coffee at the McDonalds Drive-Thru and back to my basement “suite” in the east end of town.
Part Four:
Like I said last night I’m not Florence Nightingale and I
don’t work for the Salvation Army or the
Well, my step-mom worked in a diner in a tough part of town and carried a piece for protection. She whipped it out of her purse and, bang! He was history. That’s another story to tell you some time but that’s why I talked last night about going to see her in jail. Any way I had to put up quite a story about my step-dad, about how he forced me into it and I slowly started to live the story and ended up in the trade. Violence had been part of my life from day one so it’s not surprising that I found it easy to offer “special services” to some of my clients and when I got to the point my pimp had infected me with HIV, I decided to specialize in my chosen “professional scene”. Like I said before, being a hooker had desensitized me and I just couldn’t enjoy normal sex (not that I had much time or desire for it). But I tell you, when I suffocated my pimp by sitting on his face I had the biggest fucking O you could imagine. I’d spiked his drink so he was easy to work on but when he realized what I was doing he really struggled, wildly trying to move his head to get some air. The more he struggled it seemed the deeper inside me I forced his pimp-face and I came and I came and I came. He didn’t have a fucking chance – if he hadn’t suffocated, the no-good son-of-a-bitch would have drowned in my cum anyway. I was tingling for days afterwards.
For a few weeks I wondered if I was going to end up in jail like my step-mom but the police were glad to see the end of a pimp and their investigation took all of about five minutes and got put on the back-burner, probably for ever. So I got away with it and I got to thinking about how I could ever have another orgasm like that one. Well, I was never any good at math at school but I soon figured out how one plus one could equal a fortune and started looking around.
So anyway Derek is my fourth ‘special client’ or at least I think he will be after we’ve talked tonight. I’ve got almost a hundred grand in the bank, put away for my retirement (I do have some brains) and Derek looks like a real good opportunity to build it up a lot more.
I got to his house earlier than on the previous nights ‘cause I wanted to look around the neighborhood and figure out some of the important points that would make this another successful session. His house sits on a piece of land - that’s good. It is separated from the nearest other houses by a self-storage place – that’s even better. It’s on the end of a dead end street – that’s not so good. Anyway it looked like I could get in and out of his place without being seen by anybody on the important day but, just to make sure, I’ll steal a car at the mall and dump it afterwards. His driveway wrapped around to the back of the house where there was a garage. I knew he had gotten rid of his car a couple of months ago so I could drive right round the back and park out of sight in the garage – that was very good. Things looked like they could work out. Next I had to take care of the money thing and that wouldn’t be easy but, hey, where there’s a will, there’s a way and I didn’t give a fuck about his will. I wanted to get in there and relieve him of a big chunk of his money first. Like I’ve said a few times already, I’ve been around the block a few times and there are ways to do this quite easily without creating a problem and I just came up with the perfect way so now I can go into the house and get the poor sod all excited and make a killing – sorry about the bad taste but who said life was fair?
I opened the front door with the key he had given me and made a mental note to ask for a key to the garage and the back door. I went in and found him lying on the sofa watching the news on television. He’d had some soup and some jello so he was done with eating. I took his dishes out into the kitchen and even put them in the dishwasher, and then I came back into the living room and pulled up a chair in front of him and switched off the television. He was going to complain about that but saw the look on my face and changed his mind.
“Derek, we have something very important to talk about tonight like I said yesterday. This isn’t a session and I ain’t going to charge you a dime for it but you gotta listen up, OK?”
Yes, alright”
“Don’t forget your fucking manners!”
“Sorry. Yes of course Mistress”
“That’s better – now just sit there and listen and don’t interrupt me. You‘ll have a chance to talk when I am finished and when I give you permission. OK?”
“Yes Mistress”
“Now, I’ve been around sick people a lot in the last few years and I’ve learned something about dying. I know you don’t get out any more and you are just passing the time getting weaker and more panic-stricken every day. This ain’t the way you saw your life ending and, if the truth were known, it can’t end soon enough now, right? You know you are beyond recovery and every day is just a burden for you. So, here’s my plan. I’ve met a few masochists in my time but you are just about the best, or the worst, whichever way you look at it. So here’s what we’re gonna do. You are going to call the local jeweler and have him bring out some diamonds for you to look at. Tell him you are planning to move some capital overseas without using the banks and he’ll understand. Tell him you want about a hundred grand in various sized good quality diamonds and you’ll pay for them with your platinum credit card. Give him time to check out your credit so he’s comfortable with the deal and then have him come out with the rocks. Show an interest in them but buy them anyway and put them somewhere safe in the house – I ‘d hate for you to be robbed. In a few days once you’ve had a chance to do that I’ll phone you and if you’ve done the deal with him and the diamonds are here I’ll come over. I need a key to your backdoor and a key to your garage OK?
What I am going to do for you is something that you’re gonna love and its something good for both of us – I’m gonna put you out of your misery by sitting on your face and slowly suffocating you. Think about it, your last few minutes of life will be under my ass and pussy enjoying struggling for breath while your Mistress is finally getting what she deserves from you – a fucking orgasm. You see, the only way I can get them now is when I know the guy underneath me is giving me the gift of his life so I can have a real good, long orgasm. I’ve done this three times before so I know what I am doing and, believe me, this ain’t a game and there won’t be any safe word nonsense to worry about. Once I’m on your face I’m there for the duration and my ass, pussy and cum will be the last things you see, feel, smell and taste in that order. OK, you don’t have to say anything right now if you don’t want to. Just tell me where the keys are and I’ll leave. When I phone you in a few days all you will have to say is ‘yes’ if you’ve had the jeweler in and are ready to worship me one final time, or ‘no’ if you don’t want to go out this way. If you say no I’ll mail your keys back to you and you’ll never see me again. If you say yes I can promise you an end that any good honest masochist would die for – hey, that’s pretty good, huh?”
I could see he was dumbfounded and terrified by my remarks and was weighing up the pros and cons of living in ever increasing pain for another month or two, or submitting himself to eternity underneath me. I gotta tell you, I was getting excited and horny just thinking about it and I could feel my juices trickling down my legs and onto my nylon tracksuit pants. His reply surprised me.
“Mistress, I don’t know what to say right now. Please hand me the box on top of the television and I’ll give you the keys you want. I’ll let you know my answer when you call. I may be sick and in a lot of pain but my mind is still sharp so I will tell you that if my answer is ‘no’ you won’t be able to get into the house with either key, as I’ll have my alarm system triggered and the locks will be changed. So “no” really will be “no”. Please forgive my impertinence Mistress but this is a major decision and it goes well beyond any scenes I’ve taken part in before plus I hardly know you and what your other intentions might be. My paintings are worth a small fortune and I don’t want you going off thinking that even if I say ‘no’ you will be able to get back in here and clean me out, financially, anyway because that will not be possible.”
I gotta hand it to the guy, he sure has balls. Right then and there I could have leant over and strangled the poor bastard or broken his fucking neck but, like I said, he’s got balls and you gotta respect that. He gave me the keys, I put them in my bag and left by the back door, making sure the key he had given me actually fit the lock – hey I’m no dumb blonde you know.
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