I have been really goddamn busy, but if feels so good to be writing again. This is my latest story, requested by a dear personal friend of mine. It’s also the sequel to Two Working Girls, featuring their third coworker, Kitty. Enjoy!

Scowling, Kitty checked herself in the mirror. Again. Her 4 o’clock was late, and, to be frank, she was bored. She sighed and leaned on the dresser, watching her disgruntled reflection pout at itself. Her dark hair, cropped short below her ears, glinted in the dim light. Her face, pale and petite, stared back at her with a disgruntled expression. She twitched.

“I hate it when they’re late,” Kitty sighed to her mirror. She twirled an errant bang around her finger until it yanked at her scalp. She shivered, an eager smile spreading across her face, the pain reminding her of what was coming. Besides her, of course.

“Damn, I love being a sub,” she muttered. Her grin broadened. “And I love this job.” Kitty flopped into a chair, reminiscing about her tenure in the Temple of Venus brothel. Kitty catered to all types of Doms (and Dommes). The sweet ones, who took control gently and intimately, making sure her every need was met. The teasing ones, who drove her wild with a whisper, the faintest of caresses. When they finally acquiesced to her desperate, gasping pleading, they drove her wild with the briefest of contact. Then there were the cruel ones, who grabbed her roughly and took her, leaving her with bruises and bites all over her body.

Kitty poked a faint scar above her left nipple, where the man fucking her had bitten so hard he cut through skin. She smiled at the memory. He’d taken her hard, and made her look in his eyes–his hungry, animalistic eyes–while he did. Kitty shivered, her body reliving the moment. As if driven by instinct, her free hand slid down her body and drifted into the gap between her soft, slim thighs.

She sighed contentedly, gently rubbing herself. Her eyes closed blissfully as her body remembered, recalling every mark that every single client had left on her. Every bruise, every welt from a crop and chafe from leather cuffs. The fingermarks, handprints, teeth marks, scratches from fingernails.

She shuddered again, fanning herself with the hand not busy between her legs. Warm liquid slid over her palm as she moved her hand back and forth, running slowly between her fingers. She gasped as she slid a finger inside, her tiny body trembling with desire. It didn’t matter how many clients fucked her each day–Kitty was tiny, insatiable, and always ready for more.

But before she could push a second finger inside herself, knuckles rapped on her door. The knock was timid at first, then sharper and louder. Then it faded again, as if the knocker had summoned a tiny bit of confidence before it disintegrated again. Kitty stifled a yelp and yanked her hand from her folds, glancing furtively at the door.

“Still never got over being raised Catholic,” she grumbled, extricating herself from the chair and sauntering to the door. She threw it open with a brilliant smile.

“Hi there!” she chirped. Her client looked down at her and blinked, looking stunned. Kitty started to frown, then remembered that she was working. On its way to her face, the frown became a disgruntled pout.

“Something wrong?” she asked, cocking her head and staring up at him with wide, faux-innocent eyes. Her client shook his head, still not speaking, before following her inside. Probably expected me to be taller. Probably thinks I’m not old enough for him to fuck me. Heh. We’ll see.

Kitty skipped into the room, spun around once (giving him a lovely view of her exquisitely skimpy gossamer slip) and curtsied, flashing her (wet) thighs. He set a briefcase on the nightstand before sitting on the loveseat next to her. He fidgeted, nervous and still silent, so Kitty looked him over. He wasn’t ripping her clothes off, after all, so she figured she was safe for the time being.

He was tall and lanky. Not especially strong-looking, but almost certainly just fine in bed. He was wearing an expensive-looking business suit and his hair would have been carefully styled ten hours ago. But right now, it was a tired, sweaty mess, as was the man beneath it.

The poor man was exhausted, Kitty decided. He’d been working very hard for a very long time, with little rest or reward. She wasn’t sure why he came to her…he looked more like someone who needed to be cared for, and there were much better girls for that job than her. Then he shifted, and Kitty spotted a gold band on his left hand. Interesting….she thought, raising her eyebrows.

“So,” she said, her bubbly voice softer and slower than usual. Someone who knew her well would realize she was being more serious, more probing, than she usually was. “Why are you here?” And why are you late? She added internally.

He grimaced, running a hand through his already-tousled hair. “Well…you’re the one they said liked being dominated. That right?” his voice was nice. Even though it sounded tired…she liked it. It was soothing and deep, surprising for a man his age. His voice was much older than his body…and she liked it.

Kitty giggled, trying to encourage him. “Yep, that’s me. Can’t get off without it.” That was a lie, but she smiled wider all the same. Her blue eyes sparkled. “Just thinking about it…oooh. Makes me shiver” That was no lie. She giggled again, treating him to a brilliant grin. Then she stopped, sighed, and gestured for him to continue.

He swallowed, then went on. “My wife–” he tapped his ring–”wants me to dominate her. Only problem is, I can’t. I don’t know how. I have no idea what she wants, or doesn’t want.” He shrugged, a defeated grimace on his face. “That’s all there is to it.” He sat back in the chair, looking stiff and uncomfortable.

“Go on…” Kitty prodded. She could see where this was going. She wants you to fuck me so you can figure out how to be dominant, she thought.

The man swallowed, blushing. “She, ah…she wants me to have sex you so I can learn how to be dominant in bed.” Kitty smirked. Called it. “So. Yes. That’s why I’m here.” The prostitute nodded, silent. “I already paid, so…”

Kitty shook her head, smiled, and stood up. At 4’9,” she was tiny, but still towered over him while he sat in the plush armchair.

“Okay, listen up, buddy.” Kitty’s words were serious, but the effort to keep from giggling made her voice shake. The poor man looked incredibly uncomfortable, casting glances at the ceiling, the carpet, anywhere but her. He really needs to loosen up if we’re going to get anywhere.

Walking silently on the balls of her feet, Kitty slipped over to the chair and into his lap. Before he could react, she’d looped her arms around his neck and thrown her legs to one side. He looked down at her and fidgeted, but there was no way Kitty was letting him go.

She pulled herself up and brushed her lips along his jaw, letting the stubble scrape her mouth, before whispering nonsense in his ear. She breathed long and slow, letting her hot breath caress him. He shuddered beneath her, and something poked her butt. Kitty giggled.

“OK,” she whispered. “We’ve got 40 minutes. Let’s make them good.” He nodded, taking a deep, slow breath. Kitty beamed. “Let’s get started.”

Ten minutes later, she was handcuffed to the bedposts, naked as the day she was born, and getting a little frustrated.

“Okay,” she said, stretching as far as the cuffs would allow. “Let’s run through the scenario again. You come in and I’m strapped to the bed, as per your instructions. You’re excited, of course–but don’t touch me yet!” His hands froze near her hip, close enough that her skin below his palm prickled. Kitty shook her head, exasperated.

“Tease me first,” she whispered, letting a trace of husky desire into her voice. “We both know what I want: you. But you can’t give it to me.” He nodded slowly, frowning.

“But…”

“Tease me.” Kitty cut him off. She subtly shifted her hips to face him, angling her body to follow him as he moved around the bed. His footfalls were quite, pressing deep into the lush, padded carpet. He tentatively reached for her wrist, just below the cuff. Then he stopped, staring at her. Kitty smiled gently, then nodded.

To her (very pleased) surprise, he didn’t grab her or pinch. Instead, he ran a single, solitary finger down the belly of her forearm, barely tickling the skin. Kitty shivered, lips making a silent “ooh.” He trailed the finger over the inside of her elbow, up over her lean triceps, and along the edge of her armpit.

Kitty giggled. “That tickles!” But her face was flushed, and she could feel her breath accelerating. He moved to squeeze her breasts, but caught himself and kept moving, down past her ribs. The fingers pressed into the flesh between each bone, making her jump. Kitty sighed, closing her eyes and focusing on the tingling, invisible trails his fingers left on her skin. He moved lower, caressing her with each finger on both hands now.

He moved over her hips and pinched the skin over the bone, hard. Kitty’s indignant hiss cut off when he circled his hands around her outer lips, brushing the skin just outside her sex. Kitty strained against the cuffs, and pulling up, reaching for him. She needed something inside her. Fingers, tongue, cock. Anything.

Heated lust oozed from between her legs. His fingers trailed down the inside of her thighs, trailing around the crook of her knee. His touches were light and gentle, his breath as he leaned over her hot against her skin. Kitty moaned.

“Fuck me,” she whispered. “Please.” Kitty closed her eyes, waiting to feel his weight settle onto her petite frame, for his lips to press against her neck…to hear him groan in her ear as he slid inside, parting her lips and filling her until he exploded. But after a second…two seconds…his touch never came.

Kitty opened her eyes and scowled. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching her intently. He glanced at her, grimaced, and stared down at his wedding band. Internally, Kitty groaned.

“Okay,” she whispered, trying to keep the desire out of her voice. She needed to coax him, not make herself seem desperate. “Your wife sent you here. She wants you to fuck me.” Kitty pulled her legs a little wider, subtly stretching the restraints.

“I know…” he said tonelessly. He stared a loose string in the bedspread and started to pick it. He didn’t look at her. “But I can’t. It’s not right.”

Monogamy. So overrated. Losing her patience, Kitty tried again. “Look…I want this. Look. I am fucking wet. You want this–that’s a Hell of a bulge down there.” She wasn’t lying–even through his pants (which, annoyingly, he was still wearing) she could see him straining, desperate to be free and planted inside her. “And your wife–who you’re doing no favors by being loyal to–wants this.”

No response. He kept picking at the blanked, eyes downcast. Kitty ground her teeth, horny and frustrated beyond rationality. Abandoning her coaxing, submissive attitude, she tried a different approach.

“Look,” she snapped. His head jerked up, incredulity, shock, and indignance warring on his face. Good, got his attention.

“Your wife sent you here to fuck me. Not talk to me, not tease me, fuck me. She wants it rough, damn it! Stop treating women like we’re delicate and fragile, like we’ll break if you fucking thrust too hard! Now get over here, get in my pussy, and fuck me! Like you’re a fucking man, dammit! Is that a cock or a clitoris down there!?” She was breathing hard, anger and arousal lending her voice far more volume than normal.

Pausing, breathing heavily, Kitty wondered if she’d gone too far. His expression was blank for a second…two seconds. The room stood still. Neither breathed, neither moved, neither spoke.

Her only warning was the creaking of bedsprings as he shifted his weight. Then his pants were off, he was on top of her–Kitty let out a wail that’d put most pornstars to shame. He was in, sinking to the base with a single long, powerful thrust. They stayed that way for a moment, buried inside her.

He bent low, moving so close his lips tickled her ear. He pulled out just a little, but his hips ground against her clit, making her shudder. “Fuck you like a man?” he growled. His voice had changed–it was angry, hard and dangerous. She could feel his muscles ripple and tense where he was pressed against her flesh. But whether he was angry or excited, she couldn’t tell.

“Yes.” she whispered. “Fuck me like a ma–aah!” The last words devolved into a long, drawn-out scream. Her voice trembled, breaking as he bit her neck and slammed into. Her conscious mind exploded.

Pain mixed with pleasure as he started to thrust, rough and fast. Her cuffs held her body in place, but Kitty’s head shook in every direction from the sheer force of his pounding. His hips slammed into her, fueled by rage and passion, skin slapping skin and making her squeal.

His mouth and hands were everywhere as he thrust: biting her neck, seizing a kiss from her parted lips, pinching and sucking and biting her hard, sensitive nipples. His nails raked her back, his teeth gripped her collarbone, and his cock…every time it slammed into her, it hit a spot deep inside that sent round after round of tremors through her tiny body.

“N-now this…oh God…is more like it!’ Kitty arched into his chest, gritting her teeth. His breath was fast on her shoulder, hot and guttural. His gasps came in short bursts, matching hers. He growled. Kitty shivered, opening her eyes and staring up at him. He swelled inside her, and she could feel every vein, every ridge, every bulge.

“You’re close?” he nodded, snarling. His eyes squeezed shut. He was so close, she could feel every muscle tightening, straining. He was tense, trying not to orgasm.

“It’s okay,” Kitty whispered, taking in a shuddering gasp. “Cum for me. Cum in me. You–”

She didn’t’ have to wait. He was already on edge, and her voice–her words–pushed him over it. He growled, long and deep. Beneath his body, Kitty squealed. Warmth and liquid flooded into her, his cum flooding the core of her being. In unison, they let out a long-drawn cry.

There was a split second where he suspended himself above her, every muscle taut. Then the orgasm passed, and he collapsed. On top of her.

“Oof!” Kitty muttered. Her voice was muffled beneath his heaving chest, and it took her nibbling one nipple to make him come to his senses and roll off her. Kitty squirmed out of her cuffs,still shaking, and cuddled up to him.

His body was hot and streaked with sweat, just like hers. They lay together, half-cuddling, half-recovering, a pair of sweaty, tired bodies pressed close together on top of a twisted, sweaty sheet. Kitty lay against him, rubbing her cheek against his strong chest, letting the slow rise and fall from his breathing move her head. They laid together, breath slowling and bodies cooling, until a bell rang on her dresser.

Slowly, reluctantly, Kitty sat up and extended her tired legs. Then she stretched like a cat, arching her back and purring. The irony was not lost on her.

“That’s the five-minute bell,” she sighed. “Unless you want to pay for extra, you better go.” Kitty got out of bed and patted him on the cheek. “You did a great job. Decide on a safeword and you’re golden. Bye now.”

Kitty slipped out of the room, leaving him half-asleep on the bed. She was exhausted, walking bowlegged and limping, barely able to keep her eyes open. Her legs were sore, tingling in pain. Wincing with every step, she staggered back to the “dressing room” she shared with Jessica and Scarlet.

They were both absent (probably still with a client, if she were to guess) Kitty giggled, delighted, then winced and pain. She sighed and ran a bath. Her legs relaxed, relieved, as she sank into the blissfully hot water. Then she winced. Scratches and bites flared all over her body, dozens of tiny wounds crying out for attention. Kitty yelped, sighed, and reached for the hydrogen peroxide. Wrong kind of pain, she thought. This is not going to be fun.

“Wait a sec. Hold up. One guy scratched you up that much?” Jessica leaned closer, squinting at the smaller woman’s back. It was covered in thin, maroon lines, and it hurt like hell to move. “I mean, seriously. I like a little fingernails during sex, but damn!” She shook her head and whistled. “Scarlet, baby, did you see her?”

The redhead glanced out the shower door (which she’d been vigorously scrubbing for the past few minutes) grimaced, and walked closer, carrying a sponge and a bottle of Windex. “Jesus,” she whispered. “That looks like it hurts.” Kitty nodded again and giggled.

“Yeah. They hurt. But it was so fun.” She giggled again, making both older women roll their eyes. A buzzer sounded, making all three prostitutes jump.

Scarlet stretched her long legs and cracked her knuckles, grinning. “That’s my 6 o’clock. See you after work, babe.” She leaned down and kissed Jessica’s cheek before sauntering out the door. Her hips swayed, making light sparkle on her bare ass. Scarlet didn’t bother with clothes.

“Bye honey! Break his legs!” Jessica waved, chuckling. As soon as the door closed, she snapped her attention back to Kitty. Her merriment disappeared, and in its place there was fierce, protective concern. “So, you’re sure. He didn’t hurt you?”

“Nope!” Kitty shook her head, grinning. “I had a fantastic time, to be honest. In fact…”

“What?” Jessica leaned in again, watching her intently. “What’d he do?” Her voice dropped to a concerned whisper. Jessica’s dark hair framed her face, her eyes gleaming out of the dark curtain.

“Before he left, he put his number on the nightstand. I talked to him the other day. When he got home…things with his wife went great. The three of us have a date next week.”

“Kitty!”