The smell of his cock. His strong hands around my neck. His blue eyes looking down on me as I sucked on him. His gaze told me I wasn’t as much a wom...n as I was a sex object. The look of pleasure on his face was a look of sternness. Ready to punish me for being a bad, bad girl. We met him in a dimly lit bar. I was wearing my most refined whore outfit: tight black pencil skirt with a high slit, tight back top, and sexy black pumps. He was tall. So very tall I wondered if maybe his cock would be. .it is.” Her hands were already working on my shirt. Our company dress code was…well, we didn’t actually have one. We never had walk-in trade and even when we had customers visit they were more interested in the product than in how we were dressed. We did dress appropriately when we visited a client’s site, but otherwise it was mostly as informal and casual as humanly possible. I often thought that if we didn’t have Cara we’d walk around in our underwear.My clothes fell like rain and she. More

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