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    I sat in the back of the long black limousine, quietly looking out the window and thinking. The car was moving along a single lane road in an extremely rural area of Apple Valley. The late afternoon sun shined on the trees and farms, cows and sheep and barns; the last place anyone would expect to see a limo. The irony wasn't lost on me, especially when I considered what the locals would think if they knew anything about me, or the woman I was traveling with.

    Her name was Melanie Bluefield. She sat at the other end of the limo's rearmost seat, chewing gum and occasionally blowing a bubble as she scanned a People magazine and ignored the world around her. I looked her over, not for the first time, and wondered, also not for the first time, how a woman so different from me could become such a close friend.

    Melanie was all of eighteen years old ("Eighteen and three quarters," she would insist), brown-haired, baby-faced, with the thin delicate body of a fourteen year old girl, and most of the time acting like one. I, on the other hand, was twenty-three and already felt old, blonde, more developed in my body type, and buff from my daily workouts.

    My facial features were more angular, but in an attractive, girl-next-door kind of way. I was about two inches taller than Melanie, and at 120 pounds outweighed her by ten pounds. My breasts were larger too, and more round. Even our nipples were opposites: mine were pink and Melanie's were brown. One of the few things we did have in common was that we were both, in our own ways, beautiful women.

    'That,' I told myself as I watched the farmland outside glide by, 'and the fact that we're both whores.'

    My eye caught on something up ahead, a dark figure that grew slowly larger. As the car drew nearer I saw that it was a horse, standing out in a green field all by itself. It was a beautiful beast, brown with random white patches, and one thin stripe of white on its nose. But the most striking thing about it became apparent a moment later when I absently dropped my gaze; the animal had an enormous hard-on.

    My eyes widened and I said, "Oh my God, Mel, look at that."

    Melanie probably would have just ignored me but for the tone of my voice. She set her magazine down and scooted over next to me and squinted out the window.

    "Wow," she said with a giggle. "That's awesome. You think I should give him my phone number?"

    I gave her a disapproving look and Melanie laughed, pecked me quickly on the lips, and then moved back over to the other side of the car. She picked up her magazine, blew a bubble with her gum, then dropped the magazine again, leaned forward and knocked on the glass that separated us from the driver.

    "Hey, dude," she called, "are we there yet?"


    Five minutes later the car turned onto a dirt road and followed it out to a large and relatively secluded ranch house. There was a garage next to it, and I glimpsed part of what I figured was a barn behind the two structures. It looked like it was nearly as big as the house itself.

    "Well, here we go," I said. "Any thoughts on what he might have in store for us this time?"

    "Probably nothing new," Melanie replied with a cynicism that, at her age, she had no right to possess. "Threesome, lots of dick sucking, lesbo stuff while he watches. You know the drill, Athena."

    "I dunno, Mel. If that's all he wants, why'd he bring us all the way out here to Waltonsville?"

    "Who cares? He's paying us both two G's a day. For that kind of money I'd let him put me in a cage and poke me with a stick."

    "That's what I'm afraid of," I said as I opened the door and got out.

    The house had a veranda that stretched from one end to the other and four porch steps that led up to it. I had just gone up the steps and onto the veranda when the huge white front door opened and Nick came out.

    "Well, hello there, ladies," he said. "I was wondering when you were going to get here."

    "Hi, Nick," Melanie and I said together.

    "The driver got lost," I went on. "It's not that easy to find the exact middle of nowhere."

    Melanie giggled and said, "Athena, you're so funny."

    I glanced at Robert, the driver; the look on his face said he didn't particularly agree with Melanie.

    "Well, you're here now," Nick said. "Why not come in and have a drink before dinner?"

    "Beer!" Melanie cried happily, pumping her fist in the air.

    Nick held the door open for us and we went inside, Melanie scooting ahead of me. The interior of the house was dim and cool, but airy, giving it that relaxed, down home feeling I always expected country houses to have. The furnishings in the large sunken living room, however, weren't country furniture but the kind of highly expensive urban prestige crap that I disliked. It looked totally out of place here, as did the butler who suddenly appeared in a doorway.

    "Two beers for the ladies," Nick told him as Melanie and I sat together on a large brown leather sofa. "And I'll have another whiskey on the rocks."

    The butler disappeared. Nick took a seat in a black leather armchair, and as he did so I regarded him objectively.

    Nick Amberly was not a very handsome man. At six feet eight and two hundred seventy pounds, he was too tall and too big to make any woman of normal height feel comfortable, and his face was too ruddy and long, his cheeks too jowly. He was forty-eight years old, which also made him too advanced in years for most women my age to find attractive. Although, if anything, that was the thing that appealed to me the most; he was old enough to be my father.

    Nick Amberly was also incredibly rich. He was the owner and CEO of a very successful electronics company, and was reported to be worth more than a hundred million dollars. No Bill Gates, obviously, but a hundred mill still wasn't anything to sneeze at.

    I'd met him three years ago, when I was working for an outcall company in Tacoma. He hadn't been a customer, of course; the Nick Amberlys of the world can afford much more expensive girls than the two hundred dollar an hour doxy I'd been then. Nick was an investor, the Absolute Angels Escort Service being one of his unpublicized holdings.

    He'd heard from somebody (I never found out who) that I was not only exceptionally beautiful but very very talented, and he'd called me out to his Brown's Point mansion to get a look at me himself. He'd liked what he'd seen (and fucked twice that same night), and made me his 'private girl'. That meant that I was pretty much on call for whenever he needed me, not just for sex but for accompanying him to dinner parties and social events, or going on vacation trips with him.

    It also meant doing whatever he wanted me to do in bed, and while Nick may have had a wholesome and even elegant public persona, in private he could at times be quite the sick puppy. I'd done just about every sexual position with him, sucked him off more times than I could count, taken him up my ass; he liked to do threesomes with me and another girl (the current one being Melanie), or just watch and jack off as we went at it; sometimes he liked to handcuff me and watch as several men pulled a train on me or ganged up on me.

    He dressed me in superhero costumes, schoolgirl and cheerleader outfits, little girl's clothes; and for a few weeks last fall he had me role-play being his daughter (a gorgeous blonde named Diane whom I bore an eerie resemblance to), not just in bed but twenty-four hours a day. About the only thing I hadn't done for him was the cage and stick thing Melanie had mentioned. Apparently, he wasn't so much into violence. Although he was into videotapes; there must have been hundreds of cassettes by now, stacked on shelves in one of the many rooms of his mansion, me starring in most of them.

    I didn't mind working for Nick Amberly. The job wasn't much different than the one I'd had before, and I made tons more money; Nick paid me a very healthy yearly salary, and, like today, he would pay me two thousand dollars for what he called his "special projects." Those tended to include things like the aforementioned train or gangbang, or teaming up with Melanie (Melanie called us, "Nick's T and A Team"). But I felt a little uneasy now as I sat looking at him. What exactly did he want us to do out here in the middle of Blankville that we couldn't just as easily have done back in town?

    'No one can hear you scream all the way out here,' I thought to myself.

    I came out of my reverie when the butler placed a beer in my hand. I realized that there was a conversation in progress; Nick was saying something about the accommodations.

    "Of course," he said, "you can each have your own room, if you like. I just thought you and Athena might prefer to bunk together." He looked at me and winked. "I know what good friends you two are."

    I looked at Melanie and found her smiling slyly at me.

    "It's up to you, girly girl," Melanie said. "I'll take whatever comes. So to speak." She giggled and clinked my beer with her own.

    "I'm sorry, what?" I said.

    "I was just explaining," Nick told me, "that I don't really have anything special for you tonight, dear. The project I have in mind won't be until tomorrow, and I have enough rooms that you and Melanie can either sleep together or separately. You know, of course, how I like to sleep alone."

    "Nothing special for tonight?" I said.

    "Well, nothing out of the ordinary. Naturally, I'd like to spend time with you girls before I go to sleep. Have our usual bit of fun. Perhaps the two of you can even put on a little show for me."

    Melanie made a playful growling noise and lightly clawed my left breast with her fingernails. I couldn't resist smiling.

    "I think we'll sleep together tonight," I said.


    Dinner was the typically expensive affair Nick liked to put on, with mountains of food, lots of good wine, and the butler hovering. After we were done eating we all "retired" to a huge wood paneled room with a wall sized, flat screen TV to watch a couple of no brain comedies. After the second movie was over Nick suggested we all "repair" to his bedroom. He always used fake language like that

    Melanie and I went up first. We took off our clothes and got into his bed (which was bigger than a king-sized bed; in Nick's house, everything was oversized), and waited for him. Nick came in a few minutes later, wearing nothing but a maroon silk robe. He sat in a comfortable looking armchair in the corner with a glass of wine.

    "Alright, ladies," he said, sipping at his wine, "I'm ready for the show. Go ahead and enjoy yourselves."

    We started right in, kissing and touching each other as Nick watched, then graduated to sucking each other's nipples, masturbating each other, going down on each other. All the standard girl on girl stuff. At one point Melanie actually had an orgasm, which Nick appreciated, since Melanie was a squirter. Eventually, he took off his robe and joined us.

    For such a gigantic guy, his cock was surprisingly small; no more than six or seven inches, which made anal sex or deep-throating him pretty easy. He had both of us go down on him for a few minutes, then he fucked me doggie style while Melanie lay under me and licked my clit. He pulled out at the last second and came all over my pussy and Melanie's face.

    "You girls were absolutely amazing," Nick told us as he lay down with us on the bed. "Now, just let me rest here with you two gorgeous goddesses for just a moment."

    A few minutes passed, and then Nick told us he was ready to go to sleep. Melanie and I left like the good little sex slaves we were.

    Nick had his own private bathroom where he liked to shower alone, just like he preferred to sleep alone. Melanie and I were given another bathroom (one of six in the entire house), this one also large, with solid brass fixtures and a tub the size of a jacuzzi. We got undressed and climbed in to enjoy a long hot leisurely soak. We each sat at one end, with our toes touching, and just luxuriated like that until we began to resemble prunes.

    We finally got out and went to bed in one of the numerous guest rooms. We made love again, doing nearly everything we'd done in front of Nick, only this time without all the show, much slower, and with much more passion. We both came several times, and when we were finished we were sweetly tired, soaked with Melanie's come, and far more satisfied than we'd been in Nick's bed. Love can make a huge difference.


    I had met Melanie just three months ago. She originally came from Southern California, where she'd grown up with five older brothers, a mother who drank all the time, and a father who began having sex with her when she was only ten years old. When she was fourteen she turned up pregnant, had an abortion, and then ran away. She spent the next two years in foster homes, no doubt getting sexually abused there as well, and then when she was sixteen she got herself emancipated and landed a job at a hotel.

    She worked as a waitress at the hotel's restaurant during the day and turned tricks for the hotel's customers and staff at night. She got busted, spent some time in jail, then left California and came up to the Pacific Northwest. Within a week after arriving she was working at Absolute Angels, and only a month after that Nick snapped her up for his two girl harem. That was how I met her.

    She didn't tell me her life story right away, and I didn't ask; I'd learned over the years that a woman's history was her own business, and if she kept it to herself, then that was where it belonged. I wasn't even sure I liked her at first. She was so bubbly and positive, giggling at everything, smiling constantly. It wasn't until after the first month that we'd felt comfortable enough with each other to start sharing things, and on a night when we'd both gotten almost sloppy drunk, Melanie finally opened up and let all the miserable facts of her past pour out.

    I confessed everything too. How my father had molested me, beginning when I was seven, giving me a quarter each time I let him touch me between my legs, and fifty cents each time I touched him the same way. When I was nine I began getting a dollar each time I put his dick in my mouth, and if he came I got an extra dollar. By the time I was twelve I was getting five dollars for every blowjob I gave him, ten dollars if I let him fuck me.

    I was sixteen when my father began introducing me to his friends, who forked over as much as a hundred dollars for the opportunity to go to bed with me. Not much money when you think about it, but I was young then, too young to realize just how valuable I was.

    I didn't run away like Melanie did. I just bided my time, saved what money I could, and once I graduated high school I took off on my own, believing that I could leave that life behind. The harsh reality of the world, though, taught me quickly that change is a very difficult thing.

    I'd gotten used to the kind of money I'd made selling my body, and the minimum wage jobs I managed to hold onto for a few months at a time weren't bringing in nearly as much. By the time I was nineteen I was in the business again, bouncing from one escort service to another until I landed at Absolute Angels. And then Nick found me, and clued me in about how much I was really worth.

    When he brought Melanie into our little group, changing it from a couple to a trio, I worried that maybe he was going to replace me, but it quickly became apparent that that wasn't going to happen. And despite the fact that I believed she was too naive and ignorant about the world, I grew to like Melanie. Then came that night of confessions, and ever since then I'd been madly in love with her, which was a truly unsettling idea, since I'd never been into women before.

    Of course, I didn't tell her how I felt. I wanted to, but another thing a woman like me didn't do was fall in love. It was bad for business, no matter who it was that captured your heart.

    Even now, as I lay with her in the dark, her soft cheek on my right breast and her hair in my nose, the scent of our desire thick in the air and the taste of her still in my mouth, I kept my most tender and generous feelings to myself. I wanted to have many more nights like this.

    "You okay?" Melanie asked softly.

    "I'm fine," I replied. "Why?"

    "You just seem a little tense. Not when we were doing it, but now."

    I sighed, played with her hair a little bit.

    "I guess I'm still thinking about Nick's project," I said. "I hope he hasn't developed a fetish for anything horrible. Like bullwhips and needles through the nipples. Or snuff films."

    Melanie issued one of her standard giggles and said, "You worry too much, Athena. Just relax and have fun. You know Nick. He's kinky, but he's not, like, evil or anything. He takes good care of us."

    "I know," I said. I was still worried, though, not so much about Nick and whatever he had planned, but about the sound of Melanie's voice. Despite her Susie Sunshine act, Melanie was wise to how awful the world could be, and yet she still had that ghost of a girl inside of her, the one that could fall in love, and I heard that girl whispering to me when she talked about Nick. It made me want to cry.

    Something else I never did anymore.


    The morning seemed fresh and beautiful, the sun just peeking out from the top of the Cascades and streaming through the bedroom window. The air was cool and sharp, and somewhere in the trees birds were singing. Melanie, as usual, had gotten up an hour or two before me, and she was already dressed and downstairs when I found her in the vast dining room, wolfing down a large ham and cheese omelet. The girl apparently never had to worry about her weight.

    "Hey there, good lookin," she said around a mouthful of food.

    I mumbled something and sat down across from her. An instant later the butler came in with a steaming hot cup of coffee. I thanked him and he nodded curtly before he went back into the kitchen. Melanie swallowed and gave me a wry smile.

    "I think Butler doesn't like us," she said. "Cause we're hoors." She grinned at me.

    "Or maybe because we're girls," I replied. I sipped at my coffee as I checked Melanie out. She looked, as usual, gorgeous. A simple white top today that hugged her chest with a great deal of affection. I felt a little embarrassed, because I knew I looked like death warmed over. All I had on was a terry cloth rob and I hadn't even brushed my hair. "Where's Nick?"

    "He went outside a little while ago," Melanie replied. "Said he had some business to attend to." She popped another forkful of eggs cheese and ham into her mouth, then said something completely unintelligible.

    "Don't talk with your mouth full," I said.

    I finished my coffee and went back upstairs to officially start my day. I did some jumping jacks to warm up, then half an hour of pushups and situps. I worked myself pretty hard; a dynamite body like mine didn't just appear out of nowhere. I didn't live in the same thin air as Melanie did.

    When I was done with my morning workout I hopped in the shower for five minutes, then returned to the guest room to get dressed. There was, of course, a closet full of new clothes, and I found a pair of jeans and a white top that matched Melanie's. Once I had those on (without bra or panties; Nick's preference) I brushed my hair, tied it into a ponytail, and did my makeup. I finally felt human enough to go back downstairs.

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