The Exclusive Sex Worker Novel Novels & Stories

The rain in this city didn’t wash anything. It just made the gutters smell worse. I was leaning against the brick wall of a condemned building, my arms wrapped around my stomach to stop the growling. It was pathetic. I was twenty-two years old, and I was starving to death in an alley because a pimp named Linda owned my papers. I wasn’t a regular sex worker. I was the freak. The rumor. A man who could get pregnant. Men paid triple for me because of it. They wanted to see if it was real. They wanted to fuck the myth. And I let them, because if I didn’t, Linda would break my legs. Or worse, she’d break my baby-maker—the one thing that kept me alive.

Lyric I barely slept. My body kept remembering how Dominic’s cum felt on my ass yesterday. I wanted all of him inside me today. No more teasing. No more stopping. I wanted crazy, dirty, sweaty sex. I put on the smallest outfit I had… a loose crop top with no bra and tiny shorts that barely covered my pussy. I waited in the elevator, already wet between my legs. When Dominic stepped in, his eyes went dark immediately. “Today’s the day,” I told him straight up. “I’m not playing anymore. I want your cock deep in my pussy.”

I questioned, shoving my money into my pocket and she shrugged. “I don't know, honey. He asked for the tall, slender boy with blue eyes. And you know we never turn down a client. No matter what.” She muttered, her tone taking a stoic turn and I let out a sigh, knowing I couldn't refuse her words. She could easily send me out, and then, my never-satisfied, sexually frustrated self would be in huge trouble. Regardless of what people said, I worked as a sex worker because I truly wanted to. I had two reasons for being here. One, because I was addicted to sex. Two, so that I could leave my abusive home.

I almost asked him to stay back so he can fuck me, but I remember I have a reputation to keep and not let everyone know I'm a sex freak, so I just wave them goodbye and eat my lasagna and go to sleep. The next day is time for work, I get up as early as usual, get coffee and some toast from a cafe near my house and head off to work. I get into the elevator and it's empty, yes! immediately it's about to close. I see a long slightly hairy tattooed arm stop the elevator and he walked in. I hold my breath immediately. It's him, the man behind all my sex dreams "Good morning Isabella", he mumbled, eyes locked on his phone.

Back to work. It becomes pattern. Every promotion, a session. I climb fast. Office whispers. But I don't care. The sex gets better. She adds toys. Plugs in my ass during day. Vibrate meetings. I squirm. Cum in pants once. She cleans me in bathroom. Sucks my cock dry. One night, overtime. Her office. She bends me over window. City lights below. Dildo slams in. Hard pegging. My cum shoots on glass. Streaks down. She licks it off later. Kisses me. Shares the taste.

she told me, and together we started eating while gisting about how the day went. "Whenever I clean the pool, these sex workers don't hesitate to jump in with several guys. I didn't even know they fuck in the pool, and here I am, cleaning it every day," she told me, and I couldn't help but laugh. "This is exactly the kind of place we're in. Sex sells everywhere, but here it is worse. I'm just glad that now I only have to go to that investor for sex. Pleasure myself in gains. I think you should try to have at least one. That way, you get to breathe," I recommended, and she chuckled.

“Stop being such a prude, James. Lucien Delano went on his usual sexual rampages; all the things he did before you came into his life and he stopped all those orgies for good,’ she snapped, earning herself a look of anger from Schwartz. ‘Can I get on with it?’ said Schwartz coldly. She gave him a look and turned her face to the window. ‘Well… he and Shark…’ he began again but Aiyana rose to her feet and began to pace. She stopped before me, her black eyes penetrating as she said, ‘Proserpina, Shark supplied the women. You know of course, that he had a handful of whores he used exclusively for himself and the Boss.’ Her voice was mocking as she said it. “Our man here was not so much into orgi

I let that sit, because sometimes silence does more than words. Then: “I don’t sell fake alcohol.” I said calm and certain. He watches me, like he’s trying to decide if I believe myself. I don’t need him to. “They collapsed in your club.” “She,” I corrected. “One person.” He taps the file. “Still enough.” I lean back slightly. “And the rest?” His brow lifts. “The sex workers.” There it is, the angle they actually want.I hold his gaze. “People choosing what to do with their own bodies isn’t illegal.”

She walks past me and lies on the sofa. She's new. There are two types of workers here, me, who come and do scenes for the p**n, and that's it. Then there are ones like her who go personal. This wasn't filmed, and this wasn't p**n, but no doubt he offered her a lot, and she took it. She's stepped over the line of working p**n star to prostitute. "Why his house?" I ask. It's rare we do them in other houses. Who is going with me, and why is he willing to pay that much for a video of me?"

“You’re giving me too much information.” “And you’re not giving me enough information.” Isabel said with a smirk. “I’m a former sex worker so trust me when I say that Felix is just the kind of person that is into some really kinky shit. I’m talking, bend you over his knee and spank you kind of kinky. Questionable positions even in the office kind of kinky. You guys might not be fucking now, but when you do, you better be prepared to be sore everywhere.”