The physical similarities between myself and the late, tragic Anna Nicole Smith, bring me a lot of high-end clientele. Anna Nicole is a former Playboy Playmate of the Year who had Hugh Heffner, amongst a string of celebrities, declare his undying love for her. Of course, I’m nearly thirty years younger than the curvacious beauty queen would be now, a little more athletic, just as blonde and bubbly, a little gentler hearted I think; and my life is wonderful at the moment. As I said, I have a lot of clientele fall for me, sugar daddy after sugar daddy proposing marriage to me, young man promising to take me away from this my life, but I like my life and independence as a high-class escort here at Gold Coast Lepenthouse Suite, the Glitter Strip’s premiere bordello.
I do like stealing the hearts of the numerous men, and some women, who engage my services and seek a rendezvous of pleasure and bliss with Nevaeh, 19 year old Gold Coast honey. I also like the kink that comes with some clients, those that request a little B & D, and this very moment, I’m strutting a dominatrix walk into the introduction area here at Lepenthouse Suite, dressed in a tight black leather G-string, short black leather corset strung up the middle and exposing my navel, midriff and cleavage, and transparent black brassiere that displays my erect nipples and ample breasts. I’m also carrying a short black S & M stock whip with soft calf-skin tails that dangle loosely by my thigh. I’m confident on my black stilettos which high-light the black fish-net stockings that travel up my long, athletic legs and end at suspenders and garter belt.
I don’t say anything to my client, as I walk up to him and startle him so that he drops his phone almost in awe at my appearance. He picks up the phone and quickly puts it in his shirt pocket and says “Hi, Nevaeh,” and that’s when I playfully crack the whip beside him, still not saying a word. He smiles sheepishly while he sits there on the big maroon couch, fumbling for some more words and I put my index finger to my purple gloss lips and make a “Shhhh” sound. I motion with my fingers to follow me, beckoning him up from the couch, and he immediately rises and walks behind me as I lead him up the stair case to the suites on the first floor.
He’s only a little older than I am, early-twenties if that. He’s a nerdy type, wearing designer spectacles, probably spending too many hours in front of a computer at his successful start-up company, I think to myself. He wears grey pants and a button short-sleeved shirt; conservative, I think this as well about him. Then I notice a big blue button badge on his front shirt pocket, that states, “Anna Nicole for President!”; so, now I know one reason why he’s come to see me. Another reason, which is also why his eyes keep checking out my ass cheeks, and legs, my long blonde hair, and athletic body as we walk up the stairs, is that he must think I’m hot!
And this is what he keeps mumbling as I sit on the love-seat in the boudoir on the first floor, one leg hung over the arm rest, the other firmly on the floor, supported on stilletto point. My legs are spread, as I watch him undress as per my command upon entering the room. “You’re so hot, you’re so hot!” Even when he is fully naked, and standing in front of me, he keeps whispering, “You’re hot, you’re so hot,” so I suddenly crack the whip again and say, “Shut up!” And then I lightly whip his throbbing erection whilst it is pulsing and ready to explode I think. He doesn’t flinch, maybe just winces at the minor pain. More pleasure in that acknowledgement from me now that I unstring my corset. I whip his erection again once my corset falls to the floor, and I’m only wearing my transparent brassiere up top. I’m smiling wickedly at him, and I say, “Look at me,” and he looks at me and there is a hint of a deviant smile on his lips. We both know this game, I think.
I’ve left light scratch marks on his lean chest, as I’m straddling him now, both of us on the king-sized double; straddling him and riding his thick shaft, undulating my hips, grinding down on his thick erection, clamping the length with my sugar walls inside my wet pussy. My tight hairless sex is exposed with the front of the leather G-string flapping to one side against my thigh because I let him undo one of the ties. This was when I finally let him penetrate me after sufficiently punishing him enough to let him know I am boss.
This will be his second orgasm, into the second condom. The first is full of his cum and lost for the time being near the love-seat. I’ve still got the whip in my hand, and occasionally lash his buttocks hard enough for him to yelp and stop saying, “You’re hot, you’re hot.” But now I’m delirious with sexual pleasure, and as his thrusting up and down in to my tight pussy grows more urgent and faster and harder, I can feel myself quickly moving towards my first orgasm with him, towards heaven, which is my name spelt in reverse, “Nevaeh.”