Chapter 3. “Destiny”
New Superstar KAYLEIGH
Available 7/19-8/7
Height: 5’3″
Weight: 98 pounds
Blonde Hair
Blue Eyes
Measurements: 32b-22-32 (all natural)
Age: 18 (birthdate: Dec. 4, 1997)
Hi everyone!
My name is Kayleigh and I’m a newcummer to the brothel scene. I graduated from high school in June 2016 and am working here in Flagstone, Nevada at Happy Ending Ranch! I’m chill and laid-back, so it would be easy for you as a client to feel comfortable with me.
I am and always will be a California Girl at heart. I love to go off-roading in the desert and all things outdoors such as boating, hiking, and rock climbing. I enjoy roller skating, too (though I’m not any good at it and usually wind up falling on my butt!)
I’m also a girl who LOVES sex. Call me a nympho if you must :), but I’m super passionate when it comes to sex and pleasures of the flesh. I love to roleplay and dress up in different outfits, so can be anyone you want me to be. Would you like your own personal cheerleader? How about a maid who can’t seem to get the job done and needs a little . . . discipline? I have an open mind and am willing to try creative, unusual positions.
I cater to both men and women, especially couples, and the disabled. One-on-one is my favorite, though. I’d love to pamper and spoil you rotten during our date. I want to be that release for you, that escape from reality. Let me soothe away your stress from work or be a getaway from an unfulfilling life at home. My lone objective is to bring you satisfaction and the experience of a lifetime.
Call our office at 775-xxx-xxxx if you’d like to schedule an appointment with me. I’ll be ready and waiting for your arrival. Or walk in off the street. Either is fine, and totally up to you.
Can’t wait to hug and kiss on you!!! -Kayleigh 🙂
* * *
This is insane.
After returning from Oakfall and her shopping spree, Lindsay’s eyes were about to burst as she sat cross-legged on the bed and stared at the laptop. Frazzled, the poor girl didn’t quite know what to think of the website profile Allan had created for her last evening. He asked a few questions about her outside interests and used the answers to piece together this so-called biography. He even made it seem like Lindsay (ahem, Kayleigh) wrote it herself.
It makes me look like a slut. While that was Lindsay’s initial, kneejerk reaction to seeing it, she quickly reminded herself of something — I am a slut. Did she have any justification to bitch or complain about the way the page portrayed her? This isn’t Tuesday night mass at Sacred Heart. I’m a sex worker in a brothel now.
Lindsay didn’t have a lot of experience when it came to sex. She loved it, yes, but was still a novice. This was painstakingly obvious compared to Bella, who’d been with thousands of guys (and hundreds of women) throughout her seven years of working at the ranch. There was, simply put, no comparison between them.
Lindsay explained that lack of experience during the interview with Jeremy and Bella yesterday, and thought she’d made the point perfectly clear. She even spoke in detail about it with Allan during their road trip.
But according to the website, Lindsay loved to dress up as a cheerleader? She used to be on a regional squad in high school, sure, but never wore her uniform during sex. Such an idea had never crossed her mind until now.
A maid that needs discipline? To Lindsay, the page made it seem like she was begging to be spanked and roughed up by total strangers. While she enjoyed (and needed) a good spanking from time to time, inviting random keyboard commandos from the dark web to give her one wasn’t something she ever thought she’d do.
I love being with couples, too? While the thought of taking part in a threesome sent her both her imagination and libido soaring, Lindsay hoped her first time with another woman didn’t take place in the midst of a party. That would be wrong. She’d been bi-curious for a long time and wanted her first girl-girl experience to be special.
OhmiGod, I’d give anything for it to be with Bella.
And Lindsay catered to the disabled, too? That’s a new one. She wondered if guys really showed up at the house in wheelchairs wanting to get fucked. Was that a common occurrence? How about war veterans with missing limbs? The mentally handicapped?
Hmm, why wouldn’t they? Aren’t they entitled to pleasure, too? Would those unfortunate souls with more extreme disabilities have a nurse or handler who’d assist them with getting into position on the bed for a comfortable fuck? I sure wouldn’t be able to do that myself; I don’t want to hurt anyone. Lindsay shuddered at the thought.
I have to learn to be nonjudgmental and gaziantep escort ilanları have an open mind about everything. This was what she wanted, right? Lindsay wanted this job — she’d chosen it following months of research. To get fucked for a living. There were going to be many unique things she saw and did here, whether it be cosplay dress up and sex with a quadriplegic or getting her ass spanked by Dirty Grandpa from West Virginia.
Bella promised me 100 percent safety and security as long as I’m here. Said that “unfavorable incidents” with customers are very rare and taken care of swiftly by management. Lindsay convinced herself that there was no reason to be apprehensive. The sheriff’s station is right down the street. No client was going to hurt her or rough her up too much during one of those spankings.
. . . Right?
But those pictures . . . ugh. It would be awful if anyone from Citronelle ever stumbled across them. My family, my friends, teachers from school. Half of the photographs were nice and G-rated, but in the rest of them, Lindsay looked like a low-rent porn model spread across the pages of a filthy magazine ready to bang.
What if someone from back home shows up one day looking for a GFE with me? Perhaps her history teacher, Mr. Zeigler, would offer $500. That’d be awkward. Zack, Lindsay’s ex-boyfriend? I’d tell him to fuck off. Or how about the pervy neighbor, Rich Foster, who used to unapologetically gawk at Lindsay from his window whenever she sunned herself at her backyard pool? Big Dick loved taking pics of me in all my bikinis. By now, she imagined Mr. Foster had a whole portfolio stashed away — hidden from his wife — on a secret flash drive.
That old man was a total creep. But Lindsay couldn’t deny it, either: having her pictures taken voyeur-style and giving the man a little wet ‘n wild show every so often gave her an undeniable rush.
It made her pussy wet, too.
Yesterday, Jeremy insisted Lindsay that venture down to the game room in the early evening hours with Allan for a little photoshoot. The bio page on the website, he claimed, would serve no purpose unless it included pictures.
The shoot was far from professional as Allan took snaps of Lindsay with his cell phone. She wore a variety of outfits, some sexy and some not, and most on loan from Bella. Sydney let her borrow a trench coat and she modeled in it, too. Things transitioned outdoors and eventually to Lindsay’s bedroom, and Allan kept taking pictures.
Jeremy was adamant about there being nude shots, too. That’s where things got a little dicey. Lindsay felt nervous getting naked as a jaybird for Allan, a man three times her age, and one she’d met for the first time earlier in the day. This isn’t like Big Dick taking random pics of me in my bikini from his window. No, these were full-on nudes.
But Allan made the process easy, like when he searched her backpack and came across those sex toys. He showed the emotional investment of a bored housecat as Lindsay stripped down to her rawest form and showcased herself for the world to see.
In the end, Lindsay didn’t have a problem getting naked for Allan. That turned out to be the easy part. Instead, she was concerned about having explicit photographs taken and for them to be easily accessible on the Internet.
Once it’s on the Internet, it’s there forever. Even if the pics got taken down within 24 hours and no one downloaded a single copy, there would still be ways for people to find them 40, 50, even 100 years from now.
What if someone tries to use those pictures against me in the future? Blackmail me, even? While the thought was a bit paranoid, it was still a worry, but Lindsay decided she’d have to cross that bridge when (or if) she ever came to it. There’s no need to worry about it now.
Wanting her to be comfortable, Allan encouraged Lindsay to take several breaks during the session and had her cover up with a robe. He kept her hydrated with bottled water and made certain she had access to plenty of snacks.
Allan probably takes pics like this of every new girl since he seems to be the one in charge of the website. I don’t mind. It’s not like he’s an old horndog who’ll go home later and jack off to the images in his private time.
But she wouldn’t have any objections if he did . . .
Allan assured Lindsay that this was the best thing she could do to build her business, or better yet, her brand. It was crucial. I have to sell my brand to others. The website received thousands of hits every day from people all over the globe. Potential clients would see Lindsay’s page and want to book parties with her because of it.
Wow, I look young in this one. Lindsay stared at a photograph of her on the loveseat — naked, of course — with a beaming smile and holding a massive four-foot-long teddy bear like it was a birthday present. In reality, it was Bella’s most prized, cherished possession — Boo Boo Bear. Lindsay had her hair up in pigtails, too.
Allan photoshopped all my pubic hair away, too. Damn! No tan lines, either.
I look freakin’ hot!
Lindsay had to stifle a naughty laugh.
Maybe Big Dick will add all these to his collection and come knocking here one day with thousands of dollars in cash for me.
Come to think of it, perhaps having these photographs on the Internet wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
I have the feeling this page is gonna make me a lot of money . . .
Back in the present time, Lindsay glanced around her private bedroom. This is my new home now. It had a king-size bed, a 55-inch flat-screen television, a reclining chair, a study area with a desk, a small kitchenette, and a tabletop refrigerator. The room was otherwise bare and had no personality but was Lindsay’s to decorate as she saw fit. She purchased a couple of items to jazz things up earlier in Oakfall but hadn’t pulled them from the bags yet.
This bed is huuuuuge.
Lindsay had slept in a twin-size for as long as she could remember, so this bed was a significant upgrade. And the television was better than the one her mother and father had in their family room. In Lindsay’s old bedroom back in Citronelle, she had a 29-inch tabletop.
I’m livin’ the high life!
There was a lone window, but it was on the far wall and had bars over it. Reminds me of a prison cell, sort of. An added layer of security, obviously, although the window overlooked the backyard outside. It was enclosed and walled-off, so Lindsay thought the bars may have been a bit overkill. Good luck to any intruder who tries to bust in. Little touches like this seemed to reinforce Bella’s promise about how vital employee safety was to management.
In front of the bed, a large, sealed box had 100 cases of condoms in it. Lindsay was stunned when Bella first explained its contents to her yesterday. The average person would never need anywhere close to this many condoms in their whole lifetime, but they were gone through like a hot knife through butter here at Happy Ending Ranch. Cleanliness was important, and Bella told Lindsay it wasn’t uncommon for her to cycle through up to five different condoms an hour with a client.
There were also several cases of personal lubricant and dental dams. Bella had to explain their use because Lindsay didn’t have the slightest clue what they were. “Dental dams are a thin square of material that acts as a barrier between a person’s mouth and another person’s genitals.” Many working girls used them if a client wanted to go down on them and perform oral sex. Made of polyurethane, dental dams looked like a small wet wipe but were dry like a paper towel.
“Some girls are extra cautious and don’t like exchanging bodily fluids with their clients, and these give us another layer of protection,” Bella continued. “Personally, I’m one of them. I don’t mind kissing — to an extent — but I always insist on clients using dental dams.
“There’s one man I’ll make an exception for — one client, I mean — and his name is Corey. He lives in Cincinnati. He’s the sweetest guy and has been here an umpteen number of times over the past four or five years, and always just sees me, no one else. We share e-mail every single day and he sends me random gifts pretty much every week without fail. Corey was a virgin when we first met and I’m still the only woman he’s ever been with. I know things are safe with him. He’s clean.”
Sounds like you have a special provider-client relationship with Corey. Already, Lindsay was jealous. I bet you’re the best, most considerate courtesan in the entire LPIN system. Lindsay smiled and felt captivated by Bella and her cheery disposition and sweet, spiritual soul. No doubt, she was one-of-a-kind. You make all these guys feel like a million bucks.
Perhaps if she worked at the house long enough, Lindsay could develop something unique with a client, too.
I’d love for someone to send me gifts . . .
“Jeremy doesn’t require the use of dental dams during parties, but I recommend them. I wish he did require them. I’d hate for someone’s life to be ruined.”
Lindsay didn’t know if she liked that idea or not.
Every man already must wear a condom for both vaginal and oral sex in a brothel. It was mandated by state law. But sucking cock with a condom over top of it? Wow . . . unique. And a surprise. Lindsay craved the taste of cum and was looking forward to swallowing copious amounts of it while working here but wasn’t permitted to by law. That was a shock and an unexpected letdown. If I do, I’ll get in trouble, and Jeremy would probably fire me on the spot.
Fuck it. Lindsay decided that she wasn’t going to require any client to go down on her with a dental dam. Contracting an illness at a brothel, she’d read, happened once in a blue moon. Bella is being way too cautious, but that’s her right, her decision. Me? Customers can have at my pussy. In Lindsay’s mind, oral sex was meant to be enjoyed without any obstacles getting in the way.
Licking pussy through a paper towel? Disgusting; I’d never ask anyone to do that.
While the overanxious turnout filled out legal paperwork in her room yesterday afternoon, Bella sat close by and spoke about the expectations of being a Happy Ending Girl. She stressed how important it was for Lindsay to maintain a barrier between herself and the customer at all times.
“But you cannot let the customer know that a barrier exists. It must be invisible. You want to treat every customer like they’re the king or queen of the world. Your entire focus must be on them and whatever they desire. Your own pleasure is secondary. Jeremy will tell you it doesn’t even matter.”
“Like Payton and the guy who says he wants to leave his wife and marry her? Randy’s his name, right? Payton had some serious barriers up, it seemed, but I didn’t notice them until after the guy walked away.”
“Exactly,” Bella said. “Sara provides Randy love, pleasure, and companionship. It’s her job.”
Sara?
“She’s being paid to provide a service. But Randy is so taken with Payton, I mean, not Sara — and this happens to many of our customers — he fails to see reality.”
Oh, right. Sara was Payton’s real name.
“In many ways, it’s what we strive for as sex workers as it equates to more money. Randy is in love with Payton because all he sees when they’re together is a gorgeous, vibrant girl young enough to be his daughter.
“Payton is submissive, she’s attentive, and hangs on his every word like he’s the most important man in the universe. She caresses and consoles him, lets him vent all his frustrations about work and an unhappy life at home. In bed, she allows him to do things to her that his wife would never even consider. Whatever he asks, really. And the whole time? Payton has a sweet, loving smile across her lips like she’s having the time of her life.”
“Payton doesn’t have any feelings for him in return, you said?”
“No. The only feelings Payton has for Randy is he’s a returning customer — a regular. He’s easy money. Randy gets on her nerves sometimes by talking about getting married and having kids, but she puts up with it. She allows it. Randy enjoys fantasizing out loud.”
“And he doesn’t know Payton is engaged?”
“No. No way.” Bella gave an agitated, little frown, but Lindsay couldn’t figure out why. “Payton lives in Tacoma, Washington with her fiancé and daughter, and commutes here every three weeks for work. She’s always on the phone with her fiancé, Paul.
“Says she has another two years left in the sex trade, too — wants to build up more savings — then will retire and focus exclusively on Paul. Wants to settle down and have another kid or two, you know? Being faithful in the past was difficult because Payton loves sex and has an addiction for it. But after working here for a couple of years, she says she can do it. She’s ready to be faithful.”
“Working in a brothel tends to diminish one’s sex drive . . . a lot.” Bella ground her teeth together in frustration. “You learn to focus and be loyal to those who are good to you if you’re fortunate enough to have someone special in your life. Boyfriend, husband, a girlfriend, whatever. This job, believe it or not, has brought Payton and her fiancé closer together.”
How old is Payton’s daughter? While Payton didn’t appear to be any older than Bella, Lindsay heard a rumor that the daughter was 12 and assumed Payton could be in her early- to mid-thirties because of it. I’d never guess Payton is that old, but really, would it be much of a surprise if she is? Kimmy had no reason to lie about the daughter’s age, right?
In this business, women had the tendency to approach their appearance the way most people did their job — they worked it. Like Bella, Payton had her hair bleached a platinum blonde. They both exercised religiously, had awesome tans, and spent a fortune on beauty and skincare products. But apparently that wasn’t enough, because Lindsay also heard through the Kimmy grapevine that Payton had her breasts augmented and nose redone.
Lindsay recalled a tweet from a sex worker who insisted her success in this business stemmed from treating her body as if it were a home renovation project. Some things she could fix herself. Others required professional help. But every aspect had to be in peak condition.
I’ve seen pics of sex workers on Twitter who are in their 50s yet don’t look a day over 21. If Payton was indeed in her thirties as Lindsay was led to believe, hard work, a healthy diet, and a fair amount of plastic surgery had knocked a good ten years off her age.