The Hardest Session I Accepted for Money That Night

It all started with a chat on a Tuesday night. Tomás, my husband, manages my bookings, and I read the conversation over his shoulder while he typed in bed.

—Is Renata available tonight? —the client wrote.

—Yes, she’s here. Two thousand an hour, no tolerance. Whatever you book, and she leaves—she has another commitment —Tomás replied.

—The thing is, there would be four of us. Is that possible?

—Four is three thousand. I’ll bring her and pick her up, so I’ll leave it to you at that price.

—Deal. Like last time, right? No agreed limits.

—Like last time. You already know the conditions —Tomás closed, and set the phone on the nightstand.

My stomach dropped. Hugo was the man who had treated me the hardest ever before, and now there would be four of them. But I already had experience in this; I thought I could handle it, and the pay for two or three hours was worth it. Besides, in a week I was going with my girlfriends to Punta Cana, and that trip wasn’t going to pay for itself.

***

For those reading me for the first time: I prefer to tell what happens to me without embellishment, so don’t expect refined prose. I live up north, I’m married, around thirty. I’m light brown-skinned, thin, with shoulders a little broad for my body, natural breasts, and good hips that the gym and a little work made rounder without overdoing it. I take care of myself, I wax everything, and I look good without stopping looking real. That’s part of the job.

For that night I chose tight black vinyl pants, so fitted that white panties with ruffles and a little purple bow at the front showed through underneath. On top, a thin beige spaghetti-strap blouse with a V-neck that let the lace of my bra peek out. Stiletto heels, dark makeup so my face would better withstand the treatment I was surely in for.

Tomás checked that I was carrying the plug with me, as they had asked. I’d acted forgetful, and he sent me to put it in.

—You’ll wait for me outside, right? —I asked once we were in the car—. I’m a little scared. I feel like it’s going to be worse than last time.

—I’ll be there. I already told them the conditions are the same. Besides, you’re going on a trip next week, so don’t complain —he answered, and squeezed my knee.

—I deserve it. I’ve worked hard.

My parents think I stopped working and suspect how I pay for my luxuries, but I’d invent something. It started as one of Tomás’s fantasies a couple of years ago; he liked it, I liked it even more, and it ended up becoming my way of life.

***

We arrived at the Imperial motel. Tomás gave the room number at the booth, parked, and we got out. The door opened and there was Hugo, just as I remembered him. He exchanged a curt greeting with my husband, paid for the first hour, and said that if we went over, he’d give me the rest. He said goodbye to Tomás and took my arm without even greeting me, just scanning me from head to toe.

Inside there were three more men. To keep things simple, I’ll call them that: Hugo, the skinny one, the old one, and the big one. The skinny one looked like Hugo but younger; the old one also had a certain family resemblance, older and heavy-eyed; the big one was bulky and dressed like a rich kid. They smelled of cigarettes and beer, low-volume banda music was playing, the lights were dim. They’d been drinking for a while at one of their houses and, already tipsy, decided to hire someone until they got to me.

They sat me on the sofa and they settled around me. They turned the TV down. They offered me a drink and a cigarette, which I refused with a smile. They were curious, as if they’d been waiting a while to ask me questions.

—Is everything Hugo says about last time true? —the big one blurted out, the most interested.

I barely nodded. Hugo pulled out his phone and showed them a video he’d recorded of me months earlier. I heard myself saying a bunch of nonsense while the four of them watched the screen with more attention than they gave me. I laughed at how ridiculous I sounded.

—And why are you doing this if you’re married? —the skinny one asked when Hugo put the phone away.

—It started as my husband’s game. He liked it, I liked it more, business picked up for me, and here I am. I left my job and have more time, honestly.

—And you can take what they do to you? —the big one insisted.

—It’s just for a while. It’s not common that they ask me for what you want, but if you pay, I do it.

—And what do you like? —Hugo asked, leaning back in the chair.

—To be taken hard. I prefer anal at the end, so it hurts less. I like being held by the hair, being dominated, feeling the man is in charge. Sometimes you don’t even know what you want.

—To insult you, spit on you, even if you scream —Hugo cut in, amused.

—Well… that too —I admitted, and I laughed at how naturally they spoke to each other.

—Can we record you? —the skinny one asked.

—Of course. Though with a tip I cooperate more —I joked.

—Aren’t you afraid we’ll go too far with you? —the old one said with a crooked smile—. We can rough you up here and nobody will know.

—I know you won’t do that. Behave yourselves —I answered, more confident than I felt.

The old one stood up and planted himself in front of me.

—All right, what’s off-limits?

—Marks where they can be seen. And especially not on the face.

—Not on the face, huh? —he repeated with a sneer, and before I could finish he slapped me so hard it turned my face.

It really hurt. I clenched my teeth and swallowed my anger. A silence fell.

—Oh, so it’s okay then, little whore —he smiled mockingly.

I only nodded. There was no point fighting one of them, much less all four. That was when I understood this wasn’t a game: they really were going to put me to work, and I was trapped and vulnerable.

***

—Let’s see the prize you say you brought us —the old one ordered, snapping his fingers.

I stood up in front of them. Four fixed stares, in complete silence. I slowly pulled my pants down, left them bunched around my ankles, and, bending over, offered them my ass. Two hands took advantage of it to touch me and smack it.

—The bitch got even hotter —Hugo commented, and I won’t lie, it turned me on.

I did the same with my panties and settled onto the sofa on all fours, elbows on the backrest, knees on the seat, spread wide open. The groping didn’t take long: I felt the tugging of the plug, pulling it out and pushing it back in while I began to warm up.

The old one stood beside me, already with his cock out.

—I saw how you suck dick. I want you to do better.

I opened my mouth and he shoved it in hard. He gave me no respite; he controlled everything, pushing my head against him. He wasn’t huge, but he filled my mouth well and made me gag when he forced too much. Tears weren’t long in coming. Another one played with the plug, pulled it out and I felt his tongue, then pushed it back in. The others were undressing.

Hugo took me by the ears and forced the rhythm. My mouth started making that hoarse sound, saliva dripping down my chin.

—She can only say “bua, bua” —he mocked, and the others laughed.

They sat me on the floor, finished undressing me, and left me only my heels. With the back of my neck against the sofa, mouth pointing upward, I took the skinny one standing up as he dropped his weight into my throat. By then my face was a poem: mascara streaked in two black lines, red eyes, lipstick smeared, gasping for air. And that was only the beginning.

***

The skinny one filmed me and directed me. The old one, meanwhile, probed my history with cruelty front and center.

—Who knows you’re doing this?

—My husband. An uncle and a couple of girlfriends —I answered, my voice breaking.

—Your uncle’s definitely fucked you.

I nodded and got another slap in response.

—And your parents, do they know?

—No. They’d be ashamed.

—They won’t even feel like talking to you —Hugo jumped in, holding my hair to spit on me and slap me again—. You’re still the same trash as last time.

I started to sob. Two of them pretended to comfort me and hugged me while still groping me. It made me angry and, at the same time, excited in a way I still couldn’t quite understand.

The skinny one lifted me and sat me on top of him. He pulled my head back, I felt the strain in my neck, and he impaled me. He was a good size and I was barely wet. The one waiting behind took advantage of my bent position to enter from behind, already stretched by the plug: a double penetration. Despite everything, I was on fire. It was exactly the kind of surrender I like, two bodies owning my two holes at once. The room filled with moans.

The old one took out a marker and wrote something on my forehead that I’d later read in the mirror. While they rocked me on top of one of them, they threw questions at me and I only nodded to every insult, lost in my own humiliation.

—Then I’ll do whatever the fuck I want to you, since nobody cares about you anyway —the old one finished.

I nodded again.

***

They took me to the bed. Each one took one of my limbs, face up, and they covered my face with a pillow so I couldn’t see. Someone pushed in a long toy that vibrated, controlled remotely with a remote. Another clipped weighted clamps onto my nipples, and a third lashed my skin with a soft strap whip.

—Do you like it, little bitch?

—Yes —I gasped—. Give me more.

They turned the vibration up and my body started shaking in small convulsions. I was getting soaked, losing my mind.

—Say what you are —Hugo ordered.

—I’m your whore, I’m worth nothing, don’t stop fucking me.

—This old woman’s crazy —the skinny one laughed.

—I already told you, go as far as you want —Hugo answered.

The whip kept going, the vibrator didn’t stop, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I came in a fierce orgasm no one could hold back; I screamed, the air left me, my body arched backward while I heard their laughter around me.

***

When I caught my breath, the skinny one ordered me to wait for them in the bathroom, squatting. I went there on all fours, with the word written on my face, while they gave my ass a farewell smack. There, alone for a moment, I became aware of the burning on my face, on my ass, in my groin; my nipples throbbed under the weight of the clamps. I love being humiliated. If I ever quit this, it won’t be soon.

They came in one by one. The big one mounted me hard over the toilet. The old one came in with a cigarette, made me open my mouth, and let the ash fall inside; as soon as he was done, I spat it out. Each of them finished however they wanted, and between one and the next they cleaned me up with insults and strokes through my hair, that strange mix of contempt and care that gets to me so much.

The last one was Hugo. He bent down to my height and looked at me for a long while in silence.

—You disgust me. Shower, because I’m still missing —he said.

I turned on the shower and the warm water brought relief. I washed the night’s sweat off with Hugo watching me. I was wrecked: everything hurt, my shoulder, my lower back, the irritated skin on my thighs. He pointed at the toilet and I knew what he wanted. I gathered my nerve, bent over on my own, and while he took me from behind I only lifted my head to breathe. Curiously, he was the least rough with me. He finished quickly, spanking me without malice.

—What a delicious time one has with you —he said, once he’d pulled himself together.

***

I came out of the bathroom. The other three were already dressed, watching TV, paying me no attention. I couldn’t find my clothes, only my bag and my phone.

—My clothes, Hugo —I asked—. How are you going to let me out like this?

—Just go already —he answered, and showed me the message he’d sent Tomás: “come pick her up, we’re done.”

The old one appeared with a dog leash. The four of them took me down to the garage and locked me to the stair railing with a padlock, the key far out of my reach. Tomás would have to come in for me. They left me naked on the step, wet, in heels, with the leash around my neck, and that did piss me off: they had crossed the line.

When my husband arrived and saw me, he went for a tool from the truck and slashed one of their tires. I won’t deny that it pleased me, even if nothing could take away the session they gave me.

—See if you ever service them again —he snapped at me while covering me with his jacket—. They treated me badly and you still charged too little.

—Did they pay you for the extra hour?

—Yes, I have it here. But you should’ve seen what they did to me.

—I saw it, love —he answered, starting the car—. They sent me the videos.