In the four months since I last used Diane, I'd been buried with work and had thought about her only once or twice. With the constant pressure at work, I had little free time to think about sex. When I did, it was a quick phone call to the escort service, a couple of hundred dollars from the box in the bottom drawer, and a quick encounter with the flavor of the week.
Her connection in Madison emailed me once, about two weeks after we'd had our first session, but once I reassured him that she'd lived up to his expectations, he hadn't bothered to contact me again. That was fine with me. The last thing I needed was a distraction. Until now.
Once I delivered my final version of the project I was working on to our customer, I would have at least two weeks free while they decided whether or not to go on with the next phase of the project.
I celebrated that first night with a pretty, early-30's brunette. We went out for dinner, listened to some jazz, then back to my place for an overnight. Just under $3000, but worth every penny. She was intelligent, curious, and sexy. She made omelets for us in the morning, brought them to bed, and we enjoyed them with coffee before one last roll. After she left, I went back to sleep, waking just before noon.
By mid-afternoon, though, I was pinging Madison to arrange another visit with our mutual friend. As much fun as last night had been, I couldn't resist the thought of another "indulge your whims" session. In less than an hour, he'd responded to my email with a zip file of photos, two short video clips, and an update on the last few months.
The photos were surprising, the videos even more-so. Diane was going deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole, it seemed. The photos showed her in a variety of classic bondage poses, blindfolded in some, hooded in most and wearing nothing else but high heels in most of the shots. There were a series showing her bound from the rafters in a basement or garage, red stripes appearing in more and more spots as I clicked through the photos. Another series showed her bound face down on a St. Andrew's cross, leather straps securing her at several points up and down her arms and legs, leaving her back exposed. Again, more red stripes appearing up and down her back and legs as the photos advanced.
The videos went in a slightly different direction. Both of them showed her masturbating herself to orgasm with her fingers. I recalled that this was one of the few things she had really refused to do in our early encounters, but obviously someone had broken through that barrier. In both of the movies, she was holding herself wide open with one hand while she masturbated with the other. In both movies, she obviously got off before the camera stopped.
Madison's emails were even more explicit. She was letting herself go further and further with her fantasies, allowing him to send men her way who were more and more demanding each time. She was often not able to pull herself together to go home and had taken to planning overnight sessions rather than hours-long evening encounters.
Madison also forwarded me a series of emails in which even her language shifted. In the early emails - and the ones I'd swapped with her before - there was always a sense that she was an equal partner in the play. Boundaries and safe words were established, limits were honored. In the latest emails, she almost always talked about herself in the third person, as if her body was an object completely at his disposal. "It will perform to your expectations and if it does not, you will please discipline it however you see fit." Or "please let her prove to you that she is nothing more than a repository for anyone you wish to have her service."
I told him to continue with whatever plans he had for her, but that I would be flying out tonight. I would send him my hotel information and expected her to be in the hotel lobby when I checked in.
The desk clerk handed me my card key and I slid him a $20, told him to leave my bags in the room and to provide me with an extra set of towels and two long-neck bottles of Corona. He smiled and nodded.
I walked back toward the entrance. I'd seen Diane sitting alone in the bar when I came in but ignored her. I was certain she saw me, she kept her head still but I saw her eyes following me as I walked from the taxi to the door. I made small-talk with the doorman, looking toward her once or twice.
"That woman in the bar. A guest?" I asked him.
"I don't know, sir. She arrived about fifteen minutes ago and has been sitting there alone." He brushed a spot off of the sleeve of his jacket.
"Pro?" I asked.