Three Simple Rules (Blindfold Club 1)

I did, and he let loose another deep moan. Honestly, his commands made this easier, but after a while my knees began to hurt, so I picked up the pace.

“That’s so fucking hot,” I heard Payton say. I’d been concentrating so hard I’d forgotten she was right there, and if I didn’t have her pimp’s dick in my mouth, I might have told her to shut up. But that was the anger I felt toward myself, misdirected at her. She may have encouraged this, but she certainly hadn’t forced me.

“You like watching me fuck her mouth?” he asked her. “Yeah, me too. She’s going to make me come.”

A hand wound into my hair, and his other hand seized my head under my chin, using his grip to guide me to pick up the tempo. His hips thrust faster and deeper, just barely avoiding my gag reflex. It was an unfamiliar feeling, not having control, but a part of me didn’t mind. I kind of liked it, and admitting that to myself made a small wave of pleasure and desire wash over me.

“Swallow,” he ordered. Then he was coming violently, filling my mouth with hot, thick liquid.

I did as asked. As the pulsing inside my mouth began to ebb, I withdrew from him, and rose up from my tender knees, stunned that this hadn’t been that bad. If I was truthful with myself, his commands had turned me on a little. I’d felt eager to please him.

The room was warm, and both pairs of eyes were on me as if waiting for me to do or say something. I crossed my arms over my bare chest, feeling awkward and hot.

Joseph recovered and zipped up, looking rather smug.

“I told you she’d be good,” Payton said quietly.

“You can get dressed now,” my new pimp said. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

I sat in the stylist chair. My long, neglected hair had been trimmed into a swing cut, so it hung longest in the front and brushed just over my shoulders. Joseph chose a deep coffee color, and while I was seated, my hair drenched in hair dye, he presented me with a four-paged contract.

“Read it and let me know if you have questions,” he said. “I don’t want you to sign it today. Consider everything and make sure it’s what you want. If it is, I’ll

need it back by Thursday.”

“If I do this, when does it happen?” I asked.

“Saturday.”

Oh, god. So soon. But maybe that was good. It gave me less time to talk myself out of it, and I’d need the money quickly if Logan were going to keep it off the books. “Do I get paid right away?”

“Normally no, but Payton told me you’re in a spot, so I’ll be understanding.”

“Thank you.” I figured it couldn’t hurt to be gracious.

He gave me a startled smile. “No, honey, thank you.” Then he left me alone to study the contract.

It wasn’t written in legalese. I would offer my body for sex or to fulfill whatever other desire the customer had, and in return I would receive money, minus a percentage going to the club. How many clients I chose to service was my decision. The first page included what was required of me, which wasn’t much – arrive on time to the specified location, recently bathed, clean of any drugs, and not intoxicated. The percentage I received would be calculated when I returned my “willing list.”

The “willing list” was a menu of what I would allow clients to do to me. I didn’t think I was naïve until I scanned the two columns on the second page, and one-third of the things I’d never heard of. I’d have to ask Payton to explain them to me later.

The last two pages were more about security. Since the ‘employee’ would be restrained and blindfolded, there would be someone from the club with them until a deal had been reached, and there were security cameras. Which meant they’d be watching during the sex. It also outlined what would happen if a client became aggressive, or if at any point the employee wanted to stop. It was both reassuring and disturbing.

I hadn’t really thought about how dangerous it was, what Payton had been doing. She said she felt safe, and honestly, I didn’t ask a whole lot about it because it made me squeamish. Plus, she enjoyed it and I believed she knew what she was doing.

“Questions?” he asked when it was clear I’d finished.

“No, not right now.”

“Okay, I’d like to stick around and see the new you, but I should get going.” He handed me a card that was similar to the ones Payton passed out when trying to attract new clients. This one had a phone number printed on it instead of a web address. “Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.”

I will admit the hair color and new cut looked great. But I barely got to enjoy it because as soon as I was done the stylist whisked me into the back, into the same room I’d knelt on the floor ninety minutes ago. My first Brazilian wax was excruciating, and I viewed it as excellent warm-up punishment for the stupid mistake I’d made. I’d never get a legal disclaimer wrong again.

Payton drove me home in her new black Jaguar, explaining the most unsavory items from the list like she was explaining something simple and not how a guy would want to urinate on me.

“I don’t think I can do this,” I said, feeling sick to my stomach.

“Just check the stuff you can handle. Half the stuff on my list no one’s even tried. Most guys just want to have sex. They come in the door with all these elaborate plans, but when they see you all tied up, waiting for them . . . it goes right out the window.” A wicked smile bloomed on her face. “I had one guy finish in less than two minutes. I probably should have given him his money back.”