"A lot of hard work," I replied. It was the truth, wasn’t it? I did work hard to make sure that the life I had here was sustainable. Yes, I loved my job, but that didn’t mean I didn’t deserve the same pay anyone else would get for the same amount of effort.
"And you’re happy up here?" she had asked me, a little nervous.
I nodded and reached over to squeeze her hand. "I’m very happy," I replied. "As happy as I can be, I think."
"You know, I never thought you would leave home," she admitted. "You always seemed so stuck on … well, what you had known, I guess."
"I would never have ended up here if you hadn’t gotten me out of the house," I replied. "I have you to thank for a lot of this, you know."
"I’m just glad that you’ve found yourself up here," she told me and squeezed my hand back. "I always knew you had this in you. You just had to find some way to let go of everything your father taught you."
I smiled back and nodded. Up until a few months ago, a mention of my father would have been enough to send me spinning, but now, when he was referenced it was like someone was talking about a stranger. He had tried to inflict so much on me, tried to take so much from me, and I had gone on and lived my life the way I wanted in spite of all of that.
He would have been furious if he could see the way I was living now. I supposed that made me happy, somewhere deep down inside. I was pleased with the thought that he would probably go beetroot with rage if he had any idea of the way his daughter was making a life for herself. He probably just needed to relax. Get laid. Chill out. It had worked wonders for me, after all.
I hugged my mother goodbye at the airport, the designer bag I had purchased for her dangling from her arm as she headed to her plane. I was so pleased I could treat her, that I could give her everything she wanted. Life was better now that I had all of this--not just the money, but the sex, the desire, the company. The intoxicating knowledge that these men would pay to spend time with me, to gaze at me from across a table in some expensive restaurant.
But then, I went far beyond just that. I liked to really connect with the men I was seeing. I considered them friends--friends with delicious benefits--and I went out of my way to remind them of that every chance I got. I strutted into Jay’s office, wearing a pair of heels and a black sheath dress that I happened to know he loved and planted my hands on my hips as soon as I arrived in front of his desk.
He looked up at me, taking me in, slowly. He had brown eyes that seemed to glisten with gold when he was checking me out like I was flicking a switch inside him--from work mode to pleasure mode.
"Well, hello there," I greeted him then turned to close the door carefully behind me.
"Hey," he greeted me.
He was about twenty years older than me, but he had the stamina of a much younger man--he took good care of himself, and he knew it. And his years of experience? Yeah, he always knew just how to take me where I needed to go. I would never go back to young guys when I knew the more distinguished among males was so much more fun.
Author's Note
Ever lied to your boyfriend to make him jealous?
Ever told your husband that you bumped into Mr. So-and-so today, that he was showering you with compliments and asked you to join him for drink sometime?
Ever told your lover that you were late to meet him because you were with an old friend… then drop hints that the old friend is a guy, six feet tall and has the body of an underwear model?
It’s fun to get your man riled up, isn’t it?
Puts him on the defensive
Makes him work harder to win your affection.
He might start insulting the other guy, even threatening to beat him up if he comes near you again.
You’d love that, wouldn’t you?
Heck, you might even cheer him on. Tell him that he could easily take the other guy down in a fight.
Just to see your man’s eyes narrow, his fists clench and his blood boil with the overwhelming need to protect what’s his.
That’s the life Cindy has now. Playing one man off against the other. Playing tug of war with their emotions. Making them feel like the best she’s ever had, and then dropping the slightest hint that there might be someone even better.
How does Cindy’s story play out?
Will she find a wealthy man who will take her off the market and take care of her needs forever?
Will she, instead, invest all her savings in the stock market and be set for life?
Or, will she become so much in demand that she has to start recruiting more young girls to join her thriving escorting business?
How do you think Cindy’s story ends?
Let me know. I can’t wait to hear from you
Love,
Viktor
Email: [email protected]
From Kelly Exposed
by Viktor Redreich
“Women have a naturally submissive need for men.”
I jerked my head up, staring around the auditorium. My gaze landed on the front stage and the man standing there. Even in my current state, he was so fine he took my breath away. His hair was black as night, while his skin gleamed gold like the sun. His broad shoulders and muscular frame gave him a raw beauty, like a wild and untamed animal. I was drawn to him, unable to look away despite my distant position.
This man must have been the Zion Carly referred to. Judging that the school bore his name, he must have been its head and founder.
I leaned forward to listen.
Zion placed his hands on the podium in front of him, big hands with long, strong fingers. “In this age, society has progressed so far that people forget the natural order of things. They have forgotten the proper place for women. That place is as a submissive to men. It is an innate, instinctual part of them. A woman’s body is designed for sex, designed to receive a man’s hard cock in not just her pussy but her ass and mouth as well. Do not let the words of others deceive you into believing otherwise. Accepting this fact is vital. All women are intended by nature’s design to be sluts and do whatever men desire.”
My jaw dropped lower and lower as he went on. He spoke in such a cultured and refined manner, every word delivered in a mesmerizing way. If not for the content of his speech, I would have already been applauding him.
None of the others in the audience found him as outrageous as I did. A few were even taking notes, scribbling furiously.
I’d do the same for my paper if I had anything with me.
“The clitoris has no purpose other than to allow a woman to feel pleasure,” Zion said in his deep voice. “A woman’s breasts are worshipped as a sign of fertility the world over. Her hips entice men to breed children with her. In fact, every part of a woman’s body is designed to entice men. For what? As I have stated before, the answer is sex,” he paused, sweeping his gaze across his captive audience; unfortunately, that also included me.
“Men, too, have roles that nature designed for them. By way of power above any of our comprehensions, man is made to be excited at the sight of women. This all means that women have a duty to be sexual and sensual creatures. By embracing a sexually liberated nature, a woman frees herself from the other restraints of society. Sluthood is freedom.” He balled his hand into a fist and thumped it on the podium. “Let me repeat. Sluthood is freedom. By the end of your time here, you will know this freedom and embrace it with your mind, body, and soul. Welcome to my school.”