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    Friday

    High-dollar. Premium. This guy means business and whoever he picks

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    “High-dollar. Premium. This guy means business and whoever he picks… well…” arms folded over his finely tailored suit as he looked upon his girls. Two rows a few meters apart, those in back stood, those in front sat. “You can book some time off to enjoy it for a while if you like.” Their employer gave with a grin, and some of the women looked to one another or had their glistening eyes rise up to the ceiling as they thought of where they’d like to go.

    Heels clacked as a woman quickly made her way through the open door at the end of the hall. There the women and their boss remained, and the newly arrived secretary whispered to the man that he had arrived.

    “Showtime, girls. Be on your best behaviour.” He gave as he left, following the scurrying desk-jockey. A hum went through the room as some of the ladies chattered among themselves, one rising from her chair to stand in the rear row and was soon followed by another. Anticipation rose, they heard the deep voices of men talking, and their boss gave a hearty laugh. The deep taps of masculine shoes grew louder and louder as they made their way down the hall. All around the women, the four walls were curtained with velvety silk, infinitely soft and luxurious.

    The boss came in first, standing by the doorway and giving a small bow as he gestured to the women and the few empty chairs.

    “The Ladies of Velosia. The best of Sydney Escorts, and the greater world, has to offer.”

    He entered, his suit exuding luxury, black leather shoes glistening in the pleasant lights above. The women looked to him and smiled.

    “The bethroned ladies are strictly serving as escorts. No, surplus services, as it were.”

    “Mhmm…” the customer gave, nodding as he slowly and calmly made his way before the rows of women. They watched him, their prestine smiles never wavering, and for those who smiled broadly to show teeth, not one was out of place and not one could be said to be anything other than pearly white. In a word, perfection, and the man’s footsteps stopped as he stood front and centre, looking at them all.

    “Those sitting may leave.” He gave, and most nodded kindly and rose to pass by their employer. Two, however, had their smiles falter as they looked upon the handsome and clearly very wealthy man.

    “M-may I…” a gloved hand rose beside her, a finger extended as she gestured meekly behind herself. Small eyes of the Orient flickered between the two men. “May I… stand?” The customer looked to the employer, the employer gestured to the women for him to decide.

    “You may.” The customer gave, and the woman bowed her thanks once she stood.

    Those who stood, they were open to offer sexual services, and in this instance the man had provided an added fee; to ‘physically’ examine the women as he may. Several men in pleasant but quite basic uniforms streamed in, each one taking two chairs at a time, and in seconds they were all removed. Thus, the room was empty save for the row of standing women, the boss by the door, and the customer before them. The latter-mentioned individual nodded slowly as he looked upon them all.

    Radiant beauties all, from the dark and hostile continent of Africa to the truly historic civilizations of Asia. Arabs of the Middle East, though most were of the West. Pale red-headed ladies, some freckled cutely while others had somewhat ‘cleaner’ flesh. Brunettes, most with stunning curls that draped their back and shoulders. Blondes, perky and pleased to offer themselves for the right one. Then a few ladies with unnatural shades of red, one with blue, and a couple with black hair that he suspected were not their natural colour.

    “False hair colours may leave.” A couple gave a pained expression, but all bowed their head lightly before leaving. One of them sniffled as she went, and her employer patted her on the shoulder. She nodded her thanks to  the gesture.

    “Spread out.” The man gestured with his arms coming up at the elbows, his hands flicking to either side of them, and they obeyed, spacing themselves out. He walked over towards the woman to his left, a charming Aborigine. Her hair and complexion dark, a nose slightly wider than most of the others, but her eyes sparkled and her lips curled up into a welcoming smile. She took in a deep breath through her nose and her chest extended, subconsciously offering herself to him as she looked up at the man.

    He brought a hand to her lower back, feeling the lovely fabric, and the other came to her cheek. He lifted her head up gently as he observed her, his eyes flickering about her features. Her eyes fluttered as the hand lowered down along her vulnerable neck, past her collar bones, and down to cup a bosom.

    “Mmh…” she quietly gave as he kneaded and squeezed.

    “How physical are you willing to go?”

    “Sir?” Her eyes slowly opened to him, his hand still on her breast.

    “How are you with getting slapped?” Her eyes flashed, looking aside a moment, and he could practically feel her heart through her chest.

    “U-um… I…” the head lowered.

    “You may go.”

    “N-no, I-, I could for you-”

    “That’s fine, you may go.” He released her and moved to the next, a redhead. The Australian Native swallowed, jaw clenched, and quickly made her way for the door, stumbling slightly as she did. Her boss gave a pained and sympathetic smile to her, she kept her head down.

    “As long as there’s no bruises, sir, you may do as you please with me…”

    “Good start.” He gave, and made his way around her, observing her from every angle as she stands. A firm slap-grab to her rear, she gave a pleased little mean. “Very good… carpet match the drapes?”

    “No carpet, sir…” standing beside her, in between two women, his eyes bounced as he looked to the redhead. She was among the tallest in the line. “My zipper is in the back, if you’d like to check.”

    He took a step, bringing himself before her.  His large hands came to her exposed shoulders, her dress matching her emerald eyes. A small spattering of freckles went across her nose, the ones on the rest of her face and shoulders far more sparse. He slid his left hand along her smooth shoulder, up the back of her neck, cupped the back of her head, and brought his face to hers, claiming her lips. She rest a hand on his chest, the other coming to his side. The kiss held, and slowly, they came apart, their eyes opening once more.

    “I like you, stay, I’ll come back to you in a moment.” She nodded, beaming a smile as he moved to the next, an Asian with fair and pale skin, practically a geisha. Very likely Japanese. Her outfit went up to her neck, and unlike most of the women, hers came with pants.

    “Slapping?” Her eyes closed as she gave a deep nod to him. He noted her bosom, quite modest, perhaps even A-cup, but he rather liked that. Her short height as well.

    “Anal?” Another deep nod.

    “Punishment?” This from between teeth as, suddenly, his hand shot between her legs. She gasped as he cupped her, one hand reflexively grasping the offending forearm while the other went to his shoulder. Her eyes widened up at him when before had been so calm. One of the other girls brought a hand to her face in shock.

    “S-sir…” her widened eyes relaxed, her hands coming away from him, her previously calm features returning as she allowed him to grope and fondle and rub her.

    “Can you cry?” her legs began to shake, her shoulders hunched slightly, lips quivering as she showed her pristine teeth. Eyes began to well up, one fearfully shaking hand held his wrist, the other held before her with her palm facing his chest.

    “P-please sir… please… no…” he watched her, his teeth still bared, anger in his features.

    “The safe word is ‘noodle’.” His free left hand suddenly swatted her face, sending her straight black hair flying, and she wept. Knees buckling, the hand held before her came down to his forearm, both hands on him.

    “Plea-hease… Ahhh-hahh-hahh.”

    “Quit your sniveling, you Jap bitch.”

    “Please, no… let me… I won’t tell anyone… please just…” he watched her pathetic and hunched form before him, her face low, seemingly having a hard time even standing as his fingers rubbed at her womanhood. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry, sir…”

    “Good.” The man gave, releasing his grasp from her. She sniffled to clear her nose but none the less calmly returned to standing, running her hands over her hair to bring some order to it once more. She did not smile, indeed she may be the only one that hasn’t yet. “Very good, I might just have to take more than one.”

    “S’ank you, sir.” She gave in her accented tongue and gave a deep and calm bow. He moved to the next, Black.

    “Any problem with the ‘N-word’?” He could see by the faint smile on her broad lips and the blatant admiration in her eyes that she would not, and her flowing black hair swayed lightly as she shook her head.

    “No, sir… not at all.”

    “American?” She nodded, still smiling, her eyes not leaving him. If she wasn’t the tallest in the group, she must be tied with someone. He took a blatant look to her chest, and if they were ‘only’ DD, he’d be surprised.

    “You ready to be my Yankee slave, hmm?” He whispered to her, his facing coming terribly near hers, but still she kept her eyes locked on his, a small smile still on her face.

    “Yay’s, massuh. I do’s whatevuh you please, massuh.” She gave softly with a shake of her head as though it were a silly thing for him to ask. “Would you be likin’ muh service now, massuh- AH!” She had dared a hand forward, gently cupping his groin, and he answered it with a very firm slap. Their boss hissed by the door from the loudness of it and the secretary gave a small yelp in the main room on the other end of the hall.

    The Black woman’s small smile broadened upon the impact but she bit her lips, forcing the smile away, adopting a hurt expression after a half-second or so. She brought a hand to her cheek, teeth bared as her mouth stretched in a pained expression, giving a sob. A fair attempt, but it didn’t seem to genuine, but he appreciated the show.

    “I’s sawry, massuh. I’s so sawry.”

    “Not bad, not bad…” he nodded, giving her a pat on the shoulder as he moved to the next. The woman’s lips brought a smile to him but it was forced; ‘not bad’ was nowhere near the response he gave to the others he liked. She feared for her chances with this high-value customer, and thought on how to portray herself more ‘properly’ in his eyes. She gave thought to stripping herself down and shaking up her hair, stand nude, like the slave women in that one movie she saw set in America. The man began to admire the other Black woman standing next to her, her heart-rate picked up, fear of rejection, and so she began to remove her clothing, kicking off her fine shoes to stand barefoot. It of course caught his eye, the boss looked to her with a confused look. Their customer released the second Black woman and instead watched the event unfold. Soon enough she was standing, looking empty, broken, her arms hanging at either side of her, her head slightly hung, massive breasts before her as she stood in bare feet.

    “Huh…” the man gave, returning to her. A finger to the chin, he lifted it, and she looked away from him, her face void of emotion. He thumbed her lips, pushing them about, checking her teeth. “Good, good…” he groped a breast, gave her round ass a slap as he observed its jiggle. “Might have to buy this one.”

    “I can’t… I…” the other Black woman flung her arms up, shaking her head. “This racist shit, no way.” She stomped past her boss whom understood her outrage and did not seek to reprimand for her outburst.

    “Hmm, that’s a shame…” he looked down the line. “Would anyone else like to leave? You may do so.” One did immediately. Another twitched, brought a foot forth, closed her eyes, clenched her teeth, swallowed… and withdrew the foot to remain standing. He continued the inspections.

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