Violet was nude, on her knees, her slim left hand pressed against her client's right thigh. The tips of her fingernails, painted black, dug gently into firm flesh as she leaned forward and fluttered her pierced tongue like a snake. Her delicate tits jiggled as she alternately tugged and pulled the man's pulsing penis with her right hand, coaxing the last milk white drops of cum forth from the center of his rose dark textured tip. Her cock-sucking skills were refined to near perfection and she timed it perfectly to catch the last suspended droplet on the edge of her small pink tongue. A moment later, she swept the tips of her nails gently beneath his coarse testicles, and then lifted her gaze to the man and fluttered dark lashes beneath the edge of her blunt cut white bangs. She opened her mouth sufficiently wide to allow the man to see the primary issue of his seed resting inside her mouth, and then she swallowed and ran the fingers of her left hand downward along her slender throat to emphasize what was happening.
"You are fucking amazing," he said.
"Thank you," Violet responded.
With this exchange completed, Violet's final trick of the night was finished. She gathered the torn remnant of her black mini-dress and slipped on her heels in a manner which had become second nature to her but which some would find to be an extremely sensual act. A quick backward flip of her left hand sent lustrous straight white tresses flying over her shoulder, and without further ado, she departed from the brothel suite.
A brief time later, as she stepped along the hallway leading to the deluxe room she shared with Tiffany, she listened to the metronome like rhythm of her heels clicking against the marble floor. Her pink mouth curved into a pretty bow of contented self reflection. It was a sound and a feeling she never tired of.
Inside, hygiene and makeup removal complete, Violet crashed into bed. Tiffany was out. Violet was alone. Soon, she slept.
Violet woke next morning and slowly stretched her lithe dancer's body. A glance across the bed revealed that Tif had not returned. Violet was not worried. It was typical for one or the other or both of them to remain engaged with clients over multiple days and nights.
Violet had served six years of her roughly eleven year obligation to Chalis. She had become one of the most desired courtesans Chalis brothel possessed. She was glad to be who she was. There were no regrets. In her thoughts she had begun to see her previous life almost as if it belonged to another person entirely.
"Six years. So many little deaths," she mused.
Violet felt the now familiar twinge in her center, and shivered a little despite the fact that she was warm and safe beneath the covers of her bed. She thought of it as an invisible connection between her spirit and her physical sex. She loved her form. She loved how others saw her and what they desired from her. She loved what she could offer to them, and how she could make them feel. She slid one hand down, fingertips brushing lightly over her clit and labia, with no more intent than simply to touch herself and affirm.
Violet's thoughts drifted backward in time. Her memories were like pages of a book within her mind.
She recalled the heels and honey anal assignation: her conversation and what came after.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Are you sure?" Brentwood's Brothel Manager, Paige, inquired as she studied Violet.
Paige's dark brown eyes gleamed with intelligence and insight.
"Yes, I will do it," Violet replied.
"He asked for you specifically. He was quite insistent actually, but you can, to a degree, be selective. Your value to us is unprecedented," Paige responded.
"You know I like to be dominated, hurt, within boundaries. It is part of who I am. If not me then it would be someone else, perhaps an innocent," Violet said softly.
Violet tilted her head, watching Paige.
Paige narrowed her eyes.
"Very well," Paige said.
"But we will be monitoring discretely. We cannot have you harmed beyond what would require a few days in the medical suite here on site," she finished.
"It's tonight then?" Violet asked.
"Yes, at 2200, but we need you there at 2100 so that the team can prepare you and set the stage," Paige replied.
Violet nodded and then departed. There were some very personal things she needed to do as well, to prepare for this.
Violet arrived promptly at 2100, and entered the Teardrop suite within the estate's most hardcore BDSM club. Over the course of the next hour, three attendants prepared her. Two of the attendants were women while the third was a young man. They knew their craft. By 2200 the stage was set, and the attendants departed.
Violet was trussed and posed in classic bondage style, positioned upon a large elaborate circular bed, face down, ass up. Arms were bound behind her back, with wrists and slender forearms tied together. Her legs were each bound separately, knee bent, ankle and calf securely tied to back of thigh. A massive post hewn from some dark wood rose from the very center of the bed. Images of nymphs and satyrs engaged in all manner of debauchery were carved into its surface.
White high heels with ankle straps adorned Violet's feet beneath the ropes. A white collar with pretty pink metallic studs wrapped her throat. One end of a heavy steel chain was attached to dual rings on her collar. The other end of the chain was looped around the center bedpost until links met links. A bulky lock secured the links. The collar had been crafted with an intricate mechanism embedded. The mechanism allowed for one to turn a small ratchet wheel with relative ease. Turning the wheel clockwise would cause a tightening of the collar around its wearer's throat. Its use required measured discipline. A quick release provided a path to rapid restoration of normal breath and blood flow.
Violet was empty, clean, and groomed to perfection. She had just finished drinking three full glasses of water. The client had expressed a penchant for squirting. After drinking, her mouth had been painted immaculately with a frosted pale green lipstick. KY and very expensive high purity honey had been worked into her rectum and applied carefully around her anal opening. She waited in silence, reviewing mentally what she knew of the man who would soon arrive. He was known in some circles simply as "The Russian". His full, legal name was on record with Chalis, but Violet had been informed only of his first name, Ivan. Violet could already feel her arms and shoulders beginning to throb. The ropes irritated her soft flawless skin.
The door to the suite opened.
Violet's thoughts skipped forward.
