The Nightingale Agency

Her phone dings. Groaning, she slides her naked body across the sheets to the night stand, where she peers at the clock before picking it up—6:15 am. Navigating it, she sees a picture of Jonathan, standing in front of the gas station. He is drenched in sweat and looks very unhappy. It brings a smile to her face. She replies curtly:

Keep going until 6:45.

Eve manages to fall back asleep for a few minutes, before the ding on her phone wakes her again. The clock reads 7:17.

1 cup of strawberries, 1 cup of blueberries, ¼ cup of flax seed, 1 cup of skim milk? Can I blend it into a smoothie?

She rolls her eyes somewhat, trying to focus them as she types:

That is fine. For smoothie you need to add ice. If you want smoothies for breakfast, freeze the fruit the night before and omit the ice.

Thanks.

Her eyes shut. Ding. 8:05.

Leaving for work.

Grumbling, she responds:

Don't forget—3 coworkers.

Finally, getting some peace, she drifts back to sleep, only to be woken up by the angry clucking of a chicken in the distance. Cursing to herself she drags her body out of bed: 9:00. She throws on some sweats, ties her hair up and goes about her exercise and chores.

At around 11 am, she sits down at her desk and goes about the tedious task of adding the burner number she uses with Jonathan to her main phone. It takes her the better part of an hour to get it accomplished. Just as she is about to hop in the shower, ding.

I brought 1 cup carrots, 3 cups salad mix with 4 ozs chopped, grilled chicken, 4 tbsp light ranch?

That is fine,

she replies.

Also talked with Chad. Asked him how he was, and what plans he had for the weekend.

2 more to go.

Eve strips her body, the sweat from the morning workout having dried on her skin. As she can smell herself, the wetness between her legs despite having no stimulation, she grabs her phone and finds Octavian's number.

Plans tonight?

Work per usual.

How about a little foreplay?

:D be there by 4. You know what I want you to wear.

Eve smiles to herself, jumping in the shower.

She arrives at the House by 3 pm. Grabbing her duffel bag, she locks her SUV before walking to the front door. It is a large, non descript building, in the older downtown area of the city. The large cut out sign on the outside is shaped like a Victorian house, bearing only the word "House" on it. She pushes through the front door, her eyes quickly trying to adjust to the darkness of the foyer. Standing at a podium is a large, muscular man who looks like a Bond villain in his black tuxedo. Behind him, a sleek glass door leads to a hip bar. He looks up from his book, smiling, "Good afternoon, Mistress Nightingale."

She flashes him a flirty smile, "Hello Rob." Instead of walking through the glass door, she makes a U turn and slides down a dark hallway that is entirely invisible in the low lighting. She follows the twists and turns, the path lit by tiny lights in the floor. Arriving at a door, she briefly knocks on it. A few seconds later, she is buzzed in.

The contrast is almost painful to her eyes. The entire foyer is white, with a clean white counter stretching the majority of the room. There is a long L shaped bench just beside the door, ending at the counter. The woman in a white polo, looks up at her and smiles, "Hello, Mistress Nightingale. You're early tonight."

Eve smiles, handing her bag over to the woman, "Yes. You'll have to bill me for Octavian for the afternoon."

She grins and digs through the bag, pulling out Eve's cell phone and wallet, checking for any other electronic devices before handing it back, "Room 3...enjoy yourself."

"Oh, I intend to," she winks before walking down the small hallway. Entering Room 3, she finds an attractive, young black man waiting for her.

He stands next to a small ottoman, entirely naked; glancing up to look at her, he immediately drops his gaze back down, but can't suppress the smile on his face, nor the growing length between his legs, "Hello Mistress Eve."

"Hello Tom," she says casually. After setting down the bag, she takes a seat on the ottoman. Tom immediately takes off her shoes, pushing her dress up to unclip her stockings before carefully rolling them down her legs. When she stands, he slides his hands under the hem and lifts it up over her head, exposing her bare nipples and corset. Tom folds the dress, placing it and the other items carefully into an empty slot in the bag. Then, standing behind her, he lets loose the strings of her corset before reaching around to unclasp the busk. He admires her bare backside for a moment, before pulling the band from her hair, letting it down her back. Once he is finished, he packs up the rest of the items and carries her bag, leading her out the door.

She follows him down the empty hallway to the large spa area; though the lights are a little low, it is more than enough to see by. A few other helpers stand on the other side of the room, eyes soaking in Eve's nakedness as she follows the man before her. He carefully sets her bag in a cubby, before leading her around the corner to a hall full of small alcoves. He enters the first one, gesturing with his hand to the oddly shaped zig zag seat, she climbs on. Resting her knees on the lower part, she sets her breasts on the back, resting her elbow there as well. Spreading her legs apart, she feels the warm lube drip onto her asshole. Tom takes a few seconds, attaching a sterilized nozzle to the shower hose before turning. He swirls the tip around her anus before carefully sliding it inside. Once there, he turns the water on. When her bowels are full, he shuts the water off, removes the nozzle and drops it into a bucket of sanitizer. Rounding to the front of her, he lingers by the doorway, "Will you be needing a wax as well?"

Releasing her anus while taking a deep breath, she feels the warm water rush out, cleaning her insides. She looks at the man before stepping down, "You can tell me what you think after I shower."

He nods briefly, leading her back to the open area, to the large gang shower on the left. She waits patiently while he turns on the water and checks the temperature; when it is adequate, he motions her over. Tom soaps up a wash cloth, lathering it all over her body, starting from her neck. He carefully washes her back, his hands circling her breasts before moving all the way down to her waist. When his hand slides between her thighs, she opens them, allowing him access to wash her cunt off. His fingers try not to take any liberties, but she can feel them trembling as he slides the cloth between her pussy lips and up her ass crack. His hand feels the front of her pussy, checking for any stubble, though it seems to be more tenderly caressing her than working. He continues his way down to her feet, before he tosses the wash cloth into a waiting hamper.

Letting the water run over her, his hands stroke her skin to get the soap off. The attention causes her nipples to get so hard, they almost ache.

"I think, Mistress, that you are as smooth as ever," he says softly, trying his best to not let his dick touch her. He stands behind her, squeezing shampoo into her hair.

Teasingly, she tips her head backwards, resting it against his chest as he massages her scalp. She hears his breathing become labored while he tries to regain control of his body. From the corner of her eye, she can see the other two helpers gawking.

Once he has thoroughly cleaned her, he takes a soft towel and gently pats her down, before wrapping it around her wet hair. He slides a white silk robe over her shoulders, grabbing her bag and leading her forward. Eve purposefully leaves the front open; it covers each of her breasts but leaves a perfect view of her baldy pussy. Tom takes her to a small dressing room, adorned with a vanity and a cushy bench for her to sit on. She takes a seat, leaving her hair up, and faces away from the mirror. Tom, knowing how she prefers to be treated, finds the lotion in her bag and starts at her feet, rubbing and massaging the thick buttery cream into her soft skin. He doesn't hesitate to massage it into her pussy and breasts. By the time he has finished the front, his eyes seem glazed over, his desire wanton. He moves behind her, tenderly rubbing it into her neck, shoulders, and back. Then, she rises and intentionally bends at the waist, resting her hands on the bench, causing her thigh to brush the tip of his dick. He lets out a small, strangled moan when she does, his shaking hands rubbing the cream into the skin of her ass and backs of her thighs.

Finally, having tormented him almost enough, she takes a seat on the bench and begins to set the hot rollers in her hair. She keeps her makeup light, putting on a soft pink lipstick instead of her cherry red, and soft pink eyeshadow without eyeliner. After caking on mascara, she rises and pulls new clothes from her bag. A bright red pair of satin panties, a matching lace bra, a short navy pencil skirt, a white silk camisole and a tight navy suit jacket. Tom dresses her, making sure to reach in and position her breasts perfectly in the bra, before tucking the panties into her ass. After she is dressed, she slips on red high heels before taking the rollers out of her hair. She leaves it down, pouring over her shoulders.

Tom looks at her curiously; she seems to be an entirely different person, very professional looking, completely opposite of her usual self.

"Shall I take your bag to the post-spa room?" he asks softly.

"If you could actually keep it back here," she says, following him out the door, "I have a meeting with Octavian first, then I will change for later."

He nods, a smile crossing his face as he finally understands why she looks different, "Of course. Have a good time, Mistress Eve."

Eve's heels click quietly as she walks into the large lounge area. There are only one or two early arrivals, wishing to get a good seat for the night. Their wrist bands mark them as voyeurs; Eve doesn't recognize them, so she assumes they are new or very infrequent visitors. The stage at the far end of the room is empty, however the large wooden X on the wall next to it has a gagged, naked woman attached to it. She appears to already be sweating, several red marks on her front, clamps over her nipples. Eve instantly recognizes her as Julie, a former client of hers. Things were going along well, until Julie started wanting more of a personal relationship than a business one. When she started calling Eve in the middle of the night, Eve instantly cancelled the contract. Julie didn't take it too well and only ceased harassing Eve when she was threatened to be banned from the House. Julie's eyes look up eagerly at her as she walks by, but her hopes get ignored.

Clicking to a booth towards the back, she sees the beautiful heartthrob face of Octavian, watching her. His perfect blonde hair is swept back, deep blue eyes sparkling above his high cheek bones and wide smile. He sits in a white shirt with a black tie, his pinstriped suit jacket unbuttoned. With his right ankle resting casually on his left knee, his matching pants reveal black socks above Italian leather loafers. Eve can't suppress the smile on her face—he knows exactly how to dress to turn her on. A perfect, GQ quality image, she soaks him in.

"Hello, Master Octavian," she says playfully.

"Have a seat, won't you?"

Eve delicately sits next to him, keeping her back straight and her hands clasped in her lap. She can see the voyeurs eyeing them curiously. She crosses her legs before leaning back into the curved booth. Instead of tables, the booths along the back wall each form a semi-circle around a large, velveteen pillow. They are all reserved for doms.

Octavian rests his arm behind her shoulders, casually playing with her hair, "I have to admit Eve, I can never predict when you will solicit me, but each time you do..."

Turning to him, she smiles. Octavian leans forward, placing a seeming hesitant, gentle kiss on her lips. Eve has had sex with a few of the doms at the House, but by far, her most consistent relationship is with Octavian. He knows her better than anyone else in their world, but that is not saying much because he only has vague inclinations of her real life. None of them know her real name, where she lives or what she does outside of working, and she prefers it that way. Keeping a shroud of mystery around herself has made her one of the most desirable women that any of them encounter. She, on the other hand, knows almost everything about a majority of the people she works with. Octavian is more open with her than anyone else; though his handsome features could easily make him a model, he is actually a lawyer for an insurance company. He doesn't keep a permanent sub like most, but works the House every weekend to get his fix by using other subs.

Eve willingly melts against his lips, gently placing her hand on his chest, wrapping her fingers around his tie. She has considered attempting a lasting relationship with him, but every time she entertains the idea she reminds herself that two doms rarely last long together. So instead of risking losing what she has with him, she forces herself to be happy with what she can get.

Octavian pulls back slightly, his eyes wandering over her face, "We are being watched," he whispers.

"I see that," she grins.

"Shall we give them a show?"

Winking, she pulls away from him, sitting back properly. Octavian sets his hand on her knee, snaking his fingers under the hem of her dress. Eve gasps and pushes his hand away. Instantly, he grabs her throat, forcing his mouth against hers. She struggles under him until she succeeds in pushing him off. Rising she starts to leave the booth when he grabs her by the wrist, leaping up to wind his other hand into her hair. He tugs her head back, causing her to lose her balance and fall against him.

As a naked waitress brings the two voyeurs their drinks, they jump from their chairs, eyes wide as the witness the assault before them. When Eve cries out in pain, one man starts forward to come to her aid; the waitress steps in front of him, stopping him. Undoubtedly she tells him not to worry and to sit back down, but he isn't entirely convinced that it is a show when Octavian half drags Eve to the wall behind the booths, and forcefully shoves her into a small play room. He shuts the frosted glass door behind him, giving the two men only a vague idea of what the shadows are doing inside.

Eve stands patiently in front of Octavian, enjoying his smile. He shakes his head at her, "You are too good of an actress. You just about got me an ass kicking."

"I still might," she says slyly, "I fully intend on screaming for you."

He steps towards her, lustfully grabbing her jaw, "Mmm...you are in need of some punishment, aren't you?"

Coyly, she drops her gaze, submitting to him, "Yes, Master Octavian."

He lets her go, running his hand down her breasts, across her stomach and under her skirt. He rubs the front of her pussy through the panties, "Tell me what you want, slut."

Her eyes flicker up briefly, voice thick, "I want you to teach me a lesson, Master, then I want you to use my body for your pleasure."

Drawing in a sharp breath, he purrs to her, "Undress for me."

Complying, Eve unbuttons her suit jacket, resting it on a small table. Making sure she remains facing him, she lifts the camisole over her head. Then, she unzips the back of her skirt and bends in half, all the way to the ground, before stepping out of it and placing it with her other clothes. Returning to the center of the room, Octavian stands behind her, his hands wandering over her body. He grabs her chin, forcing her head to the side so that he can nibble on her neck. Eve purrs.

Roughly, he bends her forward, "Grab your ankles." She spreads her legs a little, grabbing her ankles. She has to lean her weight back, sticking her ass out, so that she can balance for what she knows is coming next. He cracks a paddle against her skin, barely causing her to draw a sharp breath.

"You had better start screaming for your saviors outside, or I'll just keep on going," he snaps at her.

When he brings down the paddle again, she lets a yelp pass out of her lips. He makes his way from her ass, down the backs of her thighs and back up, counting forty strokes. She yells a little louder each time. Octavian walks in front of her; grabbing a fist full of her hair, he pulls her back up into a standing position. Sliding his fingers into the cups of her bra, he tucks the fabric under the luscious breasts to free them. Then, without hesitation, he pinches each nipple and begins to twist them.

Clenching her eyes shut tight, she whimpers, stifling her groan when he squeezes harder. With a wicked smile on his face, he walks to the table and retrieves a set of leather shackles, lined with a soft rabbit fur to prevent bruising, "I have heard what a talented mouth you have," he says, smiling as he buckles them onto her wrists, "so I would like to try something a little different." Eve tilts her head to the side, watching him from the corner of her eye as he cuffs her wrists behind her. He doesn't usually make her perform oral sex on him, because he knows she'd rather be fucked hard. When he stands in front of her, she starts to drop to her knees—but he stops her, "Nah uh. I want you to undress me." He gets a wide grin.

Eve purses her lips together, letting a smile form. She steps forward, opening her mouth so that she can bite down on the knot in his tie. It takes quite a bit of wiggling on her part, but she manages to pull it loose and completely off before letting it drop to the ground. Octavian reaches a hand out, wiping his thumb across her lips to remove her lip stick. Then, she presses her body against his. Since she is somewhat shorter, she has to stand on her tip toes to get her mouth to his collar. Teasingly, she strokes her nose across the underside of his chin. She manages to bite the edge of his shirt and use her tongue to work the top button out, making sure to wiggle her body against him as if she is struggling to do so. She continues making her way down the front of his shirt, taking liberties to rest her cheek against his firm chest, place gentle kisses on his abdomen and press her breasts against him. After undoing the last button, she has to ponder a moment before figuring out how to get his shirt and jacket off. Slowly rising back up, she runs the tip of her nose the length of his torso. She bites down on the top of his shirt, making sure to look up into his eyes as she stretches her feet up and wrangles it over his shoulder. Then, dropping to her knees, she bites his sleeve cuff and crawls around behind him, her breasts swaying with the awkward movement. Once she has freed one hand, the rest falls to the floor. Crawling back to the front, she sees the impressed smile on his face. Looking up at him, she tries to maintain eye contact as much as possible as she leans forward and bites down on his belt, working the buckle lose. Thankfully, his pants are a hook and not a button, so she easily undoes that. She has to use her tongue to get under the zipper, but once she has it in her mouth, she slowly pulls it down, dragging her chin against his body. She can feel the large, firm dick beneath the fabric before the pants fall to the floor, leaving only a pair of silk briefs.

She sits back on her heels, arms bound behind her, breasts out and gets a coy, innocent smile on her face. He clicks his tongue at her, "Not done yet."

Raising her eyebrows, she mimics a shocked, frightened look which makes him laugh. Scooting forward on her knees, she has to use her tongue to get underneath the elastic waistband below his belly button. Once she has it in her mouth, she pulls it directly out to free his dick first. Then, playfully, she rubs her face against his crotch as she works the underwear down past his knees. Without asking or being told, she sits back up and opens her mouth, taking in the tip of his dick.