Surveillance Brothel

I remember the first time we met. My friend had just brought me in for an audition of sorts. She insisted that I was too pretty and too talented to be wasted on the streets. She said if I could impress him, that I could be flown all over the country to work, not just run out the clock giving hand jobs in strange men’s cars.

I waited in that shabby hotel lobby for what seemed like forever. My foot tapped nervously as I calculated how many dicks I could have sucked and bucks I could have made in that time. If this didn’t pan out, I’d have some major catching up to do.

When he finally arrived, his assistant/front desk clerk, AKA Madam, ushered me into a room just off the lobby. I barely had time to glance around before he walked in, briefly eyed me up and down like a piece of meat, and unzipped his pants. I stared, wide eyed, mouth gaping like a fish, at the size and heft of his cock. I had seen larger in porn, maybe, but never in person. It was intimidating.

“Why don’t you bring that cute little mouth over here and suck it?” His tone was an intoxicating combination of kind and impatient. I fell to my knees in front of him, licking my lips. It was as if my whole life had just been leading me to this moment.

I took the head into my mouth, whirling my tongue around it, massaging with my lips and moaning out of genuine nervousness. I could feel him twitch and harden, lengthening across my tongue. It gave me some courage and I began to get into a good rhythm, driven by the challenge of working with such a large cock combined with a desperate need to perform well.

I jumped when the phone rang in his pocket. “Keep going,” he said, businesslike, and answered it in the same tone. I could feel my anxiety rising and along with it, desperation. I kept glancing up through my lashes as I worked, trying to read his expression. The call was brief. Then I heard him say, “I’m done here. I’ll be there soon.” He gestured for me to stop. Blood draining from my face, my wide eyes locked to his, I slowly slid my mouth off of him and slumped in disappointment at my failure.

Stuffing his swollen cock back into his pants, he walked out the door. I stood up, stiffly, and turned to get my purse when I heard him say to Madam, “She’ll do.”

***

The next few weeks were spent in intensive training. Since he owned the hotel, he had had hidden cameras installed in all the rooms for safety, but also in order to supervise and critique the girls so we could improve our skills. It brought in a steady income from low priority local clients and allowed the management to evaluate and hone our skills so as to make the best matches with the higher end clients. It also kept the girls from getting complacent and lazy, knowing someone was always watching.

After each client meeting we would receive a recorded voice message with feedback on the session. He was very meticulous, never failing to miss an error in the performance. His voice would wash over me through the headphones, enveloping me in the soft, low vibrations.

At first I just wanted to do a good job so I wouldn’t be fired. But those recordings began to sink into my consciousness. I started to focus all my efforts on pleasing him, as if each one in that endless string of men were him. I would ask myself, “What will he say about this?” It became a game for me to anticipate his comments on each movement I made.

One evening, I was tasked with a simple blow job. The recordings had gotten shorter and shorter as my job performance improved. I found myself feeling increasingly agitated and dissatisfied. I missed his voice.

As I dropped to my knees, an idea came to me. I licked my lips and took the head into my mouth, whirling my tongue around it, massaging with my lips and moaning. I could feel it twitch and harden, lengthening across my tongue. I recreated every movement, every murmur of our first encounter. Only this time, when the phone did not interrupt, I looked past the client and locked my eyes to the camera. This time I would finish the job and show my employer what I could really do.

I suckled and stroked. I flicked the head with fluttery, feathery movements and laved down the length of the shaft to gently cradle the balls in my mouth. I took my time, relishing every moment, imagining my hands, lips, tongue on his enormous cock.

I pulled back to wet my lips and again took the head into my mouth. I slowly pulled it in deeper, inhaling as I went so that I wouldn’t have to pause as it entered my throat. When I got all the way to the base, I pressed my nose against his stomach, my head tilted slightly to the side, and swallowed several times, holding steady, still gazing into the camera.

The client was about to cum. I pumped him a few more times with my mouth until I felt that tell-tale stiffening and replaced my mouth with my hand in time to catch the spray full in the face, just the way I had come to know he liked it. I blinked reflexively at the first splatter but continued to gaze into the camera.

When it was over, I couldn’t wait to get my feedback. When it arrived, I put on the headphones and closed my eyes. There was a long pause followed by a deep raspy chuckle, and then simply, “What a good little cocksucker you are.”