This is a story involving bondage and non consent. It is only a fantasy, with no basis in real life. All characters are depicted as over 18.
Clair Conner: Taken Again
It did not take long for me to return to the one talent that I could count on. At least I no longer had a pimp to take half of the money and still demand more.
My move to Europe was seamless, using my recent status as a victim of the International Sex Trade, to get a temporary work visa, in Spain. I probably could have given the Official a hummer, and saved myself the registration fee, but he looked a bit skittish. He knew that I had been used by the 32 men of a small merchant ship, as they traveled from the U.S. to Brazil then on to South Africa. He needn't be concerned, I managed to get through the ordeal with my health intact.
I definitely needed some new clothes. The fashion world had passed me by as I swallowed dick on the Atlantic.
A bar was the traditional pickup point for working girls in America, but I had not figured out Barcelona, Spain. I sat at a corner cafe, sipping an espresso wondering if I had enough Pesos to pay the tab.
"Disculpe Madam. May I seat a Gentleman with you? If you are alone we will sit someone with you, please?" The waiter seemed to be both asking me and telling me the rules for single women.
"Cee," I said, imagining that I might get lucky. How do you say Sugar Daddy in Spanish?
The man was both older and plump. Exactly my type, I thought. He was sweating but he wiped his brow with an expensive looking pocket hankie.
"English?" He wondered out loud.
"American," I admitted.
"Oh lovely," He decided. "Do you have a place to stay?"
Wow, right to the point.
I looked him over carefully, grateful for the sunglasses that kept him from seeing my eyes.
"I am looking for a bed, but my funds are low, very low." I hoped he had a solution for my problem.
"A beautiful woman, such as yourself, must be careful whom she trusts in a big city like Barcelona," The man replied, as he pulled off his eye glasses and wiped the humidity from the lenses.
I stretched my hand out to his hand and laid it on top.
"Could I trust you, Monsieur? I asked, with lips pursed to look the most kissable. I was using my arms to push my girls together, to provide the most attractive profile.
My new patron simply stood and took my hand in his damp grasp.
I followed, as he tipped his hat to the manager of the cafe. He would cover the bill.
He took me to a room that overlooked the busy plaza. It was small, but private. I only had a rolling suitcase, so I parked it in the corner and turned to my newest customer.
He was wetting his lips with a very active tongue. I knew that he was wondering where to start on this delicious looking treat. I looked away casualy, but I also began to strip, as if I were alone in my room. Often a whore has to take charge, or she'll be waiting far too long.
Time is money.
I was wearing a bra today, but it was cute enough, and it allowed for some buildup of the show. The clip in front helped keep the focus on the prize. I pinched it open, and my breasts did the rest of the work, popping into view!
"Hmm," he murmured, while mesmerized by the sight. I believe that it means the same thing in English.
I unclipped the long skirt and let it drop to the floor. My thong did not leave anything to the imagination, especially from the back. So I turned around to show him.
I felt his stomach against my back, when he pressed up and against me, putting both of my girls in his hands. He brought his face to my neck and I was grateful that his breath was minty. A girl can only take so much. I turned my head so he could kiss me, or not, 'customer's choice'.
He thrust his tongue deep into my mouth and squeezed my tits hard. He might have been grinding his pelvis into my ass, but I couldn't feel anything solid. Typical of a short cocked man. I hoped that his tongue worked better elsewhere.
He went to his knees to remove my thong, staying behind me. He spread my ass cheeks and pushed his tongue into my ass. I usually charge extra for that, but he was getting the Early Bird Special.
I dropped forward, planting my hands on the small bed; I spread my feet wide to give him full access.
He pushed me even further down so that his 5 inch pickle could push inside of my pucker hole. I reached back and spread my ass with my narrow hands.
"What a prize!" He exclaimed as he popped to the bottom and back with rapid two inch strokes. I maintained my clothespin position while he enjoyed my tight hole. I realized that Spanish men were just as easy to please as any other.
Georgio needed a siesta before he was ready for a real fuck, so I ramped up the air conditioner and closed the patio door. I checked out the furniture and decided that it would suffice for my needs. I moved my few things to the three drawers, then went to the small washroom to put my toiletries away. I had to remember that it's called a 'toilet' here in Europe. Not a restroom or a washroom. Toilet; simple and accurate.
Georgio was sitting up when I came out of the toilet.
"I will need a few clothes too," I announced as I nakedly approached my smiling fat man. It was time to show him my other talent. Ass-to-mouth was not my favorite, but sometimes hookers need to sacrifice; he looked clean enough. I knelt beside the bed and cupped his balls. He spread his legs, so that more of his shortie was available. It was still quite pathetic. No challenge at all.
I didn't have a tongue clip, but I sucked hard as I cupped my tongue around his pride and joy. His indrawn breath told me that I had his attention. I gently massaged his ball-sack while I went down on him. I pulled off for a lick and a kiss, then back down hard, sucking while I dropped.
He loved it.
I would need a radio too. Something had to cover up his loud words of encouragement!
The boutique was nice enough for my simple needs. They did free alterations, on the spot. Georgio had an account, so I could take whatever I needed. I smiled as the clerk packaged my new things. She would know how I earned these 'gifts', but petty judgements no longer affected me. If she could fuck like me, well... maybe she could. She needed better marketing skills.
I loved to spend my time in the museums and art galleries. Not that I understood art, but at least I could see the beauty. Barcelona has at least a dozen, and I was taking my time.
"Spectacular, isn't it."
I turned around to find a well suited man standing by the window. I felt my heart flutter, but it was probably indigestion.
"It's a great looking painting," I responded. "I suppose the artist had a great subject."
"If she was as beautiful as you, it would be hanging in the Vatican." My secret admirer replied.
He obviously wasn't blind.
"Please tell me that you are hungry," the man continued, as he stepped towards me.
I realized that I was indeed hungry. A girl has to eat.
"I could be persuaded," I replied, but I did not smile. I couldn't make it too easy for him.
"Please, let me introduce myself. I am Conrad Smythe."
The name was meaningless to me, but he said it with a tone that suggested that I might have known him. Probably rich or famous or both; Barcelona was such a big city.
I let him lead me, though he didn't offer his hand. I just walked with him to a cafe, then on to his apartment.
