The foreign client invited me to his New Year’s Eve party

Some people who recognize me from what I write have asked me to talk about other situations I go through, beyond prostituting myself every now and then. Because yes: they don’t just pay me for sex, they also use me in other circumstances. And that’s what this is about.

I’ve just come back from a work trip. Today is January 6, and I arrived early this afternoon from Marseille, where I spent a few days with two clients. I should also talk about that trip and how they used me there too, but what I want to tell you today is the New Year’s Eve party I was invited to by one of them.

He’s a client I met through some contacts in Tarragona. He’s German, although he’s been living on the Costa Blanca for more than ten years and has several businesses for which he needed my help. I’m not going to go into either thing. Lately we’d been pretty close, good vibes, I’d already fucked him in his house several times, alone and with others, and a few days ago he told me that every year he throws a party with friends and collaborators, and that he’d like me to come. I had no other plans, so I said yes.

The house is a chalet in a development near Calpe, a beauty I’d already been to before. I estimated about thirty people, more men than women, of almost every age, though most were closer to fifty than to mine: I’m twenty-nine. Among the younger crowd there were a couple of girls and a couple of guys; the rest were older, even one man over sixty. And that’s not counting the drivers, who ate separately, in a tent in the garden.

I’d thought of wearing a long black dress with an open back, but when I tried it on it seemed to age me and it was uncomfortable. In the end I bought a short one: a leather skirt with a zipper at the back and a completely sheer mesh bodice, with my tits plainly on show, without the slightest doubt. It fastened at the nape of the neck with a clasp that looked like a jewel. Very, very sexy. Stockings — never tights, I hate them — and a pair of new black heels. When I arrived and took off my coat, I swear every guy turned to look at me. There were spectacular women, taller than me, in plunging necklines and luxury dresses, but none of them had their tits out the way I did.

I got there a little before ten. You left your car and two guys drove it up to a parking area further up. The first person who saw my tits was the valet. Then I threw my coat back over my shoulders and went in. Before anything else, I went through the tent to say hello to the drivers and wish them a happy new year; I recognized one because in the summer I had already fucked him, on another occasion when they “gave” me to those guys. They stood up very politely, surprised that one of the guests was greeting them. Later they told me almost nobody did that, and I loved that.

The German came to meet me, kissed me on the mouth, told me I looked spectacular, and showed me the house. They had transformed it for the party: furniture moved out to make room, the bedrooms turned into lounges, the bathrooms like a hotel’s, with white towels. The pool area had been set up for smoking, with sofas, giant cushions, and gas heaters all over the garden. His room was locked.

“So nobody uses it to fuck someone,” he said, laughing. “At these parties anything can happen.”

Then he took me to what had once been his gym, where they had already fucked me twice. The renovation was finished and now it was a huge space, partly carved out of the garage. A sort of wet area, all tiled in gray, polished concrete floor with drains, a continuous bench all around with waterproof cushions, and, on the wall, some rings. I knew what those rings were for: the second time, they tied me to them. Now there were also open showers and some glass screens to close off the space. It was hot and humid and fragrant down there.

He showed it to me and I swear I got turned on, because I knew perfectly well why he was showing it to me. He was kind the whole time, at most he held me by the waist and praised the dress a thousand times, nothing else. Not a single kiss after the one at the entrance.

***

We went upstairs and he apologized: he had to attend to the people arriving. The main floor filled up in no time. The catering staff served food for hours, everything delicious, champagne and an open bar. He introduced me to a lot of people as his adviser, I gave my contact details to almost everyone — my tits and a good recommender are unbeatable as a calling card — and I felt super comfortable. They spoke German, English, Catalan, and Spanish, and the music was playing all over the house except in his bedroom.

At midnight they turned on the TVs scattered around the floor, put on the bells, and we all followed them with the twelve grapes, which had to be explained to some people. When the new year came in, kisses and hugs with everyone, a few deep kisses with the ones I already knew. Very elegant, nothing tacky.

From twelve to one, party at full blast, disco dancing, music videos on the screens. Around one, the DJ left a programmed playlist on and went off with the catering staff. Some guests left too, but most stayed. And then something else began.

***

The German came out with a tray. At first I thought they were sweets in little packets; they were condoms, a huge tray. He announced that, in case anyone wanted to take advantage of the night, there was a prepared area downstairs. He called me to his side, up on the three steps from which he was speaking, and he also brought up a girl, Nadia, whom I’d been chatting with. She told me she had been his secretary and that he got her a deputy manager job at a luxury hotel; I imagined he’d also fucked her a ton of times, and I guess she thought the same about me. Twenty-six years old, gorgeous, short hair, taller than me, slim, small tits, and a long blue dress open at the sides so you could see everything when she moved.

He took both of us by the waist.

“The staff are all gone now. Upstairs the party goes on all night; downstairs there’s another kind of fun,” he said. “Very beautiful women have come, friends of mine, and they’re in the mood to have a good time. Right, girls?”

We both said yes almost without realizing it.

“And you all know how much I like to bet.”

Everyone shouted yes; I had no idea, but even Nadia nodded, convinced.

“First bet of the night,” he said, making us do a turn while holding his hand, showing us off. “Which of the two is wearing something under the dress and which one isn’t? And I’m obviously not talking about the bra.”

People laughed, because both of us had had our tits out all night, and they started placing real money bets, leaving bills on four different trays depending on the outcome. He wasn’t allowed to play, they said he had an advantage, but he whispered in our ears what he was secretly betting. Then he slowly lifted Nadia’s dress, with her back to the audience, up to her waist: she wasn’t wearing anything. And he unzipped my skirt all the way down and showed my ass, with no sign of a thong. A group of five were jumping around like their team had just won the Champions League. They counted the cash and split it.

He asked us whether we wanted to go down or stay. I didn’t know what to say, and neither did Nadia. He poured himself a drink and started chatting as if nothing had happened. I told Nadia I had no idea about the betting; she explained that he bet on everything, that he loved it, especially with weird things like that. I was stunned.

***

The five men who had won came over to us, guys in their forties, ecstatic. They immediately started putting their hands on us, our waists, our asses, a few kisses. Nadia asked me if I wanted to go down. I said yes.

At the basement door, a sign in three languages forbade mobile phones. They left them in some boxes and, the moment we walked in, I already had two guys all over me, groping me. Before I knew it I was out of my dress, stockings, and shoes, one of them eating my pussy and another undressing. Nadia, on her knees, was sucking the others’ cocks. They’d put Velcro cuffs on the bench rings, all ready to go, so nobody had to look for anything.

They fucked me in the mouth and in the pussy, taking turns, while I could feel more people coming down and watching us through the garage glass, even couples. I came several times. When they got tired, someone suggested more bets, and the people downstairs, about ten of them, agreed. They sat Nadia and me on the bench and bet on which of us would get hit in the mouth by a spit shot. We ended up covered in it.

“What pigs, Jesus,” Nadia kept saying.

“I already knew that,” I told her.

They kept going: who could keep a whole cock in their throat longer, who could swallow more. More guys joined in, naked. Before I knew it, I was tied by my wrists and ankles to the rings, spread wide open, and they all started putting it in me, first in the pussy. One of the owner’s friends, who had already fucked me once before and has a huge one, told them they were missing the best part, and that’s when they started fucking me in the ass, open and tied up. Breast squeezes, slaps on my thighs and pussy, hands in my hair, fingers in my mouth after they’d been in me from behind. Some with condoms, others without. I came a lot of times. Nadia was on a central table, also with rings, getting fucked face down. I ended up covered in cum, almost all of them coming outside, on my tits or my face.

***

Around four-thirty, Nadia said she was leaving. They untied me, she showered right there — the showers are open — and said goodbye. I took another shower to wash off the semen and saliva, and stayed alone with the ones who were left.

One of the owner’s friends came up to me with a juice, took off my towel, and sat me naked on the center table.

“Better this way, right?” he said, and everyone nodded.

He was sure I wasn’t going to leave, that I wanted more. He grabbed my wet hair, slapped me — this one loves hitting me — and got me to suck his cock, huge and hot from all the dancing. Another guy was sucking the ones he was putting in my mouth beside him. They got a lot rougher; the slap got them all fired up. They spread me out on the table and fucked me in the ass hard, gripping my nipples, letting go only to hit me. They fucked me in the pussy and ass at the same time: one lying underneath held my legs open while the other went in hard, and when he pulled out he rubbed his cock on my face or spat in my mouth. I came several times.

A couple was watching, embraced in a corner. The woman, very tall, blonde, and fake, came over when they had filled my mouth, licked my face, shoved her tongue in, and grabbed my throat so I’d swallow. Then she spat on me and hit me a couple of times “for being a whore,” she said. Her husband, a guy about forty-five with an impressive gym-built body, came in my mouth, disappeared, and came back with two glasses of champagne; he ended up fucking me in the ass until he came inside, and then he put it in his wife’s mouth so she’d make it hard again.

***

The German came downstairs to ask me if I was enjoying myself, since I was the sensation of the party. I asked him the time.

“It doesn’t matter, you’re not leaving yet.”

He told me I’d impressed even the drivers when I went to say hello to them. I thought we were going to fuck right there, but he had to take care of the guests still upstairs. I asked him for something to eat and drink; I was starving and thirsty.

“They’ll bring it down now. Don’t go upstairs.”

Five minutes later two drivers appeared, fully dressed, with a tray of glasses, juice, and water, while I was naked. The one I had already fucked in the summer told me the boss had sent them to bring me “supplies to survive in the basement,” and we all laughed. They’d been given permission to come down and enjoy themselves for a while.

“Have they used you a lot today?” he asked me.

I opened my arms and legs.

“As you can see.”

“You look so good.”

He lifted me off the floor, made me kneel, and had me suck him while the other one undressed. I was back with two guys who used me like I was a sow: slaps on my tits and ass, spit in my face, brutal fucking in the ass and even rougher in the pussy. They even put two in me from behind at once. The couple, still watching, started fucking beside us again. I ended up wrecked after almost an hour.

The owner’s friend came in again, dressed, his speech slurring from all the alcohol.

“This bitch does a lot of things very well, and there are two I still haven’t seen her do today.”

He grabbed my hair, laid me on my back on the bench, and started pissing in my face, bringing it close and putting it in my mouth until he finished. Then the drivers. When I thought it was over, the woman from the couple spread her legs over my face and pissed on me too, while her boyfriend pissed on her stomach and tits. I was soaked through. Then the Russian — sorry, the owner’s friend — made me eat his ass so the others could watch, rubbing it all over my face until he turned around and came all over me.

***

In the end it was just the couple and me left. We showered again. I looked for my dress and it was nowhere to be found; I asked them to go upstairs and look for it. They came back with my clothes, except for the stockings, and told me there was almost nobody left upstairs. I got dressed and went up.

We had breakfast together, those of us who were left. I was absolutely shattered, everything hurt, especially my pussy, ass, and nipples, but I was intact. A whole lot of people had treated me like a whore, and there I was, watching the sunrise in a luxury house by the sea.

The German offered me a guest room to sleep in. I was out like a light in a second and woke up at three in the afternoon. They invited me to lunch and then I took the car and drove back home. The only thing that surprised me was that he didn’t use me. I told him as I was leaving.

“We’ll talk about it on the trip to Marseille,” he answered. “When I put something like this together I have to take care of everyone. Ours will be left for a good, calm session.”

Let’s see if I tell you about the trip next time. Thanks to everyone who reads me.