Intoxicating Pain

The shrill of the phone sent her into a little panic. It was the work line and Gypsy knew there was a man who had been exchanging letters and texts with her for a while. He was very well off, and a lover of pain. She too was someone who likes the addition of some pain in her life. In this line of work, there can be no physical marks unless paid for. Each mark will cost the consumer for their presence on her body. He mentioned he wanted to spend in the 10 grand range and each one would be 500 dollars in her bank account. When the girls agreed to this they would make the full amount, not the company. Hopefully, she knew full well the extent of the oncoming abuse.

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Lady Luck

The night was like most. Mist hanging over the city, the scent of the ocean clung to her like a fine perfume. She was there for work, not pleasure. New Orleans was a city that held a million sins, but tonight, it had the inhabitants of the club praying for miracles.

To be invited into the game, your income was in the seven-figure range, and you had to be willing to toss fifty grand in the trash. That was the buy-in, and it was non-refundable. Not that anyone would ask for it back. That was pocket change for most of these men. A few of them on the right side of the law, but most bought and sold flesh for pennies on the dollar. Trafficking was one of the biggest businesses in the United States. A percentage of these men so dirty that their hands were forever stained with the blood of the innocent.

The tall blond stood in the middle of the luxurious hotel room, looking around at what most would never see. For her, this was common. She was a five grand a night date. The decor would remind one of an old whore house. Red velvet, gold, and the Chandler in the middle of the room cascade with crystals hand-blown, and each unique, though only a trained eye would notice that. She had been in enough to know the real from the fake. This was a place that only the elite would see.

Ring, ring..

“Hello, Gypsy rose here.”

Her voice clear, confident, and to the point. She knew who it was, but announced her name none the less. Who was the voice on the other end of the phone?

Rath Silverstone is a man who can buy and sell the world around him. At 51, he had seen more than most double his age. Net worth 908 million dollars, he was on the list of those who would reach the elite billionaire status by the end of the year. Not that he cared. His shown net worth was only a fraction of his wealth. Overseas banks and offshore accounts were not figured into the Forbes list of 2019 billionaires. Those were a shadow that he would not allow to be cast to his loyal followers.

Augustine Silverstone, age 30 married this man for one reason. She was going to be a trophy, and he is her financial backer. Miss America at the age of 18, she knew how to twist him round her finger with not only beauty but unscrupulous ways. She became pregnant and he married her in a very hushed ceremony. It wasn’t a horrible thing. She would prove to be an asset to his company, and the child, a son he had always desired. His namesake. Rath Edward Silverstone, age 11 spent his days at a prestigious English boarding school learning to be as cutthroat as his father. He would one day take over the company whether he wanted to, or not.

“Gypsy, there is a dress for you laid out on the bed. My assistant picked it out. Shoes and undergarments will be hung in the closet, you will find them all in your size. If there is an issue, you will call Alice within the next 11 minutes and she will fix it.”

His voice was to the point. You would compare this man to a bowl of ice. He was frozen in a time where women were seen, not heard, and they were only put on the earth to please a man. Though she did not agree, she complied. He doubled her fees each time they met. It was never sexual unless you consider the mind being penetrated a sex act. She did not.

Walking immediately to the spacious walk-in closet, the smell of cedar penetrated her nostrils. Aged wood adorned the walls, and in the middle, three cloth-covered hangers clung to the metal bar above. Red silk bra, matching panties on one. She checked the size right away and noted they were hers. Stockings, not the pantyhose type, but the ones that had a thick lace band at the thigh to hold them up. The last was a fur, not the fake one, but a real PETA hating fur. Usually, she would never wear such an item, but he loved a woman who dripped class. She would by the start of the evening.

“All seem perfect, even the shoes are my exact size.”

Her foot slipped in the 1000 dollar footwear, she had seen these in the past but refrained from purchasing them for herself. Why buy what can become a gift. Each item would go home with her at the end of the weekend. It was a token of his appreciation for a job well done. This was a job after all.

“The jewels are in the safe. Please take them out after we speak. As usual, those will be returned when you finish.”

She never kept his babbles. Most of them belonged to his wife, and they would be returned to her safe deposit box when the night was over. Gypsy didn’t want or need them. In fact, they were nothing she would pick for herself. Large expensive stones, and all diamonds. She preferred emeralds.

“Yes, Sir. I remember the combination from my last visit. I will keep them safe. You have my word.”

She may have his word, but there were eyes on her everywhere. Her room covered in hidden cameras, he was viewing her as they spoke. She knew that piece of information and it didn’t bother her. He was a voyeur and she was the one he enjoyed watching.

“I will send a man to the room in 1 hour. You know how I feel about time. Promptness is important. Please note that there is a tube of red lipstick on the vanity. It’s that Guerlain brand that you asked me for. I am sure you will find it be the shade you like. See you soon.”

She almost choked but composed herself. Guerlain kiss kiss gold and diamond was 62 thousand dollars a tube, and it contained fragments of real diamonds and laced in the finest gold that money can buy. This was worth the entire trip to the Big Easy.

Fast forward 1 hour, the knock on the door stopped the young blond in her tracks. It was his man, and she knew him well. He had been with her client for many years, and the silence was a part of the language he spoke. He was trusted to keep this part of his Boss’s life quiet.

“Jordan, I have my coat right there. Can you help me with it?”

Of course, he could, and did. The tall male placed the white fur around her shoulders, smiling when he did. He was one that she actually liked. Many nights after she was done, they would share a burger and a beer before driving her to the airport. He never took advantage of her youth, in fact, he thought of her as a daughter.

One last look in the mirror, the 5 ft 10 blond couldn’t help but smile. The Versace dress clung to her body like a second skin. No one would know the underclothing was almost as expensive and the garment she wore. Her erogenous zones dabbed with perfume, the diamonds around her neck were beacons of wealth. Pushing the diamond bag under her arm, the only contents of the lipstick that he purchased her. She was as proud of that as a new mother was her child.

Three moments later both stood silently in the small elevator car, her eyes closing for a moment. She needed to be in the right mindset for the evening. Confidence was key when it came to the night. As the car came to a stop, they both exited, her three steps in front of him, she would make the entrance, but all knew that when she did, the man behind her meant do not attempt to touch.

Who is she?

Tonight Gypsy Rose Kennedy is lady luck. She will sit beside her client, her hand on his shoulder, and watch him take the prize. Not a word will be spoken from her unless he advises her too, and the only thing in her hand will be a glass of champagne. She will sip slowly to avoid becoming drunk, and after 15 moments passes she will have the crystal flute replaced with a new one. Each time it will remain almost full. The only reason she has it is for aesthetics.

Her blood-red lips pull together in a bow, exhaling as he holds his hands to her mouth. This man, her client, knows that when he needs someone to be at his side, it will be her. Never has he touched her in the physical sense, but that doesn’t mean that he hasn’t viewed the cameras in her room. He is human after all.

You may ask yourself why the wife doesn’t attend. She is a trophy and they remain on the shelf. She knew that when she married him, and when she bore his heir. The wife and child are his life, but every once in a while, and man needs to feel wanted. This girl, Lady Luck, there is no doubt that she is the one to give him the ego thrusting that he needs.

Collection of Sins ~Nicolette

Pacing the floor, the small brunette knew it was coming. She could feel the heat burning inside of her. She was 19, and it was long overdue. His promise still unfulfilled, she grew tiresome of waiting. What would happen if she took matters into her own hands and destroyed herself on her own? Would he even know? Of course not. How could he when all he did was make a promise he would never keep. Unknown to her, he was waiting till she was ready to receive the power that would be bestowed upon her.

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Nicolette ~ A little taste

The place was a dive. A little shithole on Hollywood and Vine that the tourists would never see. Living in California is nothing like Hollywood projects on the big screen. Everyone doesn’t have a pool in the backyard, and no movie stars are walking up and down the streets. It’s filthy, and poverty liters these streets. Italy was a world away, and being sent to live among the /common/ people would take some adjustment.

On a street corner in the middle of hell, that neon sign from the bar blinked repeatedly as a beacon for the lonely. Was she lonely? Perhaps she was. He promised that he would take her. A promise he never kept. For 18 years he told her that she would finally walk the world as who she was born to be, but in the end, he never lived up to his end of the deal. She would have to prove her worth to get her one desire. The transformation into the creature she was born to be.

Would tonight be the night where she could do it without forethought? Could that be the real test? She was sent to the states to deliver a package weeks ago, there was no return ticket. Nicolette had yet to earn that flight back home.

One push on the door, the first thing she noticed was the smell. Stale cigarettes, cheap liquor, and god awful perfume. It was coming from the whore in the corner. One deep inhale and she could track the one who seemed to wash the scent of dick from her body with the overuse of cheap dollar store fragrance. A few picked their heads up from the bar, looking at the woman who was not dressed for the likes of this place. Wearing a dress made of the most expensive Italian silk, stockings enveloped her legs like a second skin and those heels. She had stolen them off some dead bitch in a gas station bathroom. The major obstacle she had was her age. Thankfully for her, there was a street corner salesman with fake ID’s. She was now Monica Ames, 25-years-old. Along with the documents she arranged for a passport. Soon she would need to leave without being noticed, and no one wanted a woman named Monica.

The bartender wasn’t stupid. He knew the more he sold, the more he could skim out of the cash register. This week alone he took a couple hundred that he never earned. Letting the underage in was a goldmine. These teenagers come in, but to leave, they had to pay the price. Whether it was cash or sex, they did anything to not have their parents alerted to their substance abuse problems.

“We both know you shouldn’t be in here. What do you want?” he asked. Chuck, or so they called him, stood there drying glasses with an old towel that had seen better days. Dingy and stained, no one complained that he was rubbing more dirt on then taking off. No one cared as long as the liquid ran down their throats. The world as we know it is changing daily. Colder by the moment, and this isn’t something we can blame on global warming. It’s all to do with the impending doom that will eventually walk the earth. Her day was coming, and yet none knew about it.

“Bourbon on the rocks,” ordering, she never looked at the man. No need to. In 5 minutes she wouldn’t remember who he was, let alone what he looked like. All he would be was a stain on the wall, and another victim on her urgency to feed.

“Suck my dick in the alley and we tell no one about you coming here and disturbing my fine clientele. The cops will be worse on you than I ever could. 5 minutes or I drop the dime,” grinning, the man tossed the towel on the counter, walking out before her.

Pushing the male against the wall, did he think asking her to come to the alley was wise?

“Ah Papi, you aren’t too bright, are you?” asking, the young girl held him to the wall, one hand on his chest was all it took.

“Blow me, bitch,” his voice slurring as he spoke.

Laughing, her voice echoed down the alley. No one would come. No one cared about a man screaming in an alley. Most would assume he was getting fucked and enjoying the ride. Sadly for him, it would be his last.

“Now is that how you speak to a lady?” she asked.

“All I see is some little cock tease who wasted my time,” his words barely a grunt.

The more the male spoke, the deeper she forced her nails into his chest. At first, it was erotic. A little pain can intoxicate a person. His idiotic personality was growing by the second. Inhaling deeply, her eyes shut to tune him out, but she never allowed him to move from the wall.

“Let me fucking go! How the fuck can you keep me here,” his orbs searched her face, confused. “Monica, that’s your name, right?” the male asked. “How about you skip your happy little ass back to the playground and let me go finish work?” he laughed, thinking that he would intimidate her because of her age.

Smirking, she dropped to her knees in the alley, looking up with eyes of a timid doe. Right away his demeanor changed. Back was the confidence and gone the shrill to his voice with she held him to the cement wall.

“You want me to take care of this?” she asked, her small fist stroking him through his pants. She could feel the beat of his heart as his dick swelled for her. “I can almost taste you!” salivating, a thin line of drool ran down her chin, giving him hope that she really was going to “blow him.”

Within a moment, he realized that not all head, was good head. Her mouth wrapped around the shaft, it only took one bite to do all of society a favor. Dripping from her chin, a waterfall of blood, she had removed both the cock and balls, leaving him with fair warning that not every woman should be fucked with.

She was getting closer to her goal, but would this prove she was ready?

The Last Ride

“I’m checking myself out. Get the papers and I’ll sign them, and if you call my family, I will sue you. Don’t test me, I know the law,” her voice held a new tone to it. They were discharging her later in the afternoon, so why could she not leave early enough to enjoy Los Angeles for the last time?

“But Miss Kennedy, you know you can’t go. You… blah blah blah,” that was all Gypsy heard. She stopped listening hours ago. Before she left the state, she needed to do something.

2 hours later

“GYPSY, where the fuck have you been?” a tall blonde swept her up, hugging her. Another joined in, and by the time her feet hit the sand, she had 5 of her friends there with her. The surfing community was tight, and she was like the little sister of the group. Always the pain in the ass, and for some, the only family they had.

“Ya know, shit happened and I fucked up a bunch of shit. I got married, got pregnant, fucked it all up and tried to off myself. You know I was never good with knives. I couldn’t even kill myself right,” she laughed, but it wasn’t funny and none laughed.

“What the fuck!” that was the common statement from them all, but none put her down for it. A few had their own battles with addictions, so they would never make her feel like shit over it.

“Don’t fucking do that shit again, squirt. We need you here.”
“Man, you can’t ride the waves in heaven.”

And then there was Dave. He picked her up, again, squeezing her tight, “We got you, Babe. Fear no evil. We got you.”

“Can you put me down. Before they come to steal me away, I need to take the final ride. I’m going to New York for a while guys. Fucked up, I know, but I gotta stay with my brother till they think I’m better,” her voice trailed on, each looking dumbfounded. You don’t move to New York. You go there to die.

On a Saturday evening, dressed in a bikini in the middle of December, she took the final ride of the year. Paddling out, the Pacific ocean, her home, there was no need to hurry. The sun illuminated her body as she sat out, talking to the Gods of the sea. It’s an old surfer thing.

“Man, I never thought this would be how I ended up. All those cold mornings, hot summer days, and now, the last of my fall runs before leaving. I’m gonna miss you. The way the ocean washed away all my tears, healed a broken 16-year-old girl, and gave me him. We met right here on the beach. Thank you for the time you gave me to learn about love. I swear I never meant to hurt him, but I did and now, I will live with the results,” her voice soft, she spoke to the ocean as though it was her therapist.

Closing her eyes, she could hear it. The sound of the perfect wave. Paddling, she caught that final wave, the ride seeming as though it would last forever. Standing on the board, her blonde hair fluttering in the wind, she felt it. The ocean was wishing her a life of kindness. Something she had denied herself for so long. My don’t have to submit to what the world hands you unless you feel that’s all you’re worth.

Her body cleansed of the negative energy that filled her with regret, not stopping till the water met the shore. Wrapping her arms around her friends, one embrace before she was gone.