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“Three years ago, I met a pretty young woman in the bathroom on opening night, and I saw the fear in her eyes because she had stepped foot into a club that could have exploited her. But I knew what she didn’t, that what these owners set out to create wasn’t a place for people to find pleasure or even orgasms. They created a place for people to find themselves. That’s what Salacious Players’ Club has always been, and that’s what I will work to ensure it always remains. Thank you.”
“You exist only for our pleasure. Do you understand?” I ask, petting the top of her head. “Yes, Sir.”
“That’s it,” I say with encouragement. “Get me nice and hard with those perfect lips of yours.”
“You’re doing so well, but you can take a little more, can’t you?” She gasps for air and wipes her chin. “Yes, Sir.”
“You are so fucking hot like this,”
“Look at you taking my cock like you love it. You love it, don’t you, pet?” She gasps. “I love it, Sir.” “Good. Take some more.”
There was a time in my life when all I wanted was the bare minimum. A safe place to live. A simple life for my son. A life without abuse. I wrote off the idea of any kind of fairy-tale love. That would have been asking too much. Then these two came along, and now I feel almost greedy accepting this. I clawed my way out of hell, and I never did it expecting to get to heaven. But here I am.
