Zheka continued talking, devouring me with his eyes, "Two serious guys are arriving this evening on business. They have diamond mines in Africa and a cutting factory in Yerevan. They're meeting here today with a business partner, a jeweler from London, who flew in especially for this. They hold meetings here quite often. You'll be escorting these Armenians. As far as I remember, they're great connoisseurs and lovers of women's butts. I think they'll really like your skillful backside. Now, relax, but not for long. After lunch, at our hotel, you'll go to the spa and see the makeup artist. The girls will get you ready, I'll tell them, and by five o'clock tonight, be ready for work. You have to look like a million dollars." He spoke as he pulled on his underwear and pants. Once fully dressed, he gave me a firm slap on the butt, my buttocks bouncing invitingly. That slap and the mention of diamonds in Africa brought back vivid memories of my adventures in the African diamond mines, and my holes responded with pleasant, gentle pulses as I recalled the kinds of cocks I'd had and how many I'd received. Zhenya looked at my ass and continued talking, stroking my buns and sliding his middle finger between them, lightly pressing on my anus. I arched my ass back and up to meet his palm. "All the food is from the restaurant, but you'll eat in the staff cafeteria. They'll show you where the spa is, where the makeup artist is, and where the cafeteria is," he added, pausing in his monologue. - I think I sold it too cheaply, okay, until the evening. As I understood it, they had already hired me as a full-time employee and were confident that they had suppressed my will and that I would work for them, so great, let them think so. This brought me back to my comfort zone. — Wait, please send me this porn film on WhatsApp, where I'm the star, for inspiration, so I can better prepare for this evening, and see from the outside whether I'm doing everything beautifully. - You're doing great, I see you're already trying, give me your number, I'll hang up right now. As soon as the video arrived on my phone, I immediately copied it to the cloud of my secret email account, just in case. He left, and I fell onto the bed, lying on my back, began to play with my clitoris and, in slight excitement, began to put my thoughts, which had been tormenting me for the last hour, in order. These idiots thought I was a prostitute and took me under their wing, crushing my will and forcing me to work for them like a slave, in exchange for food, even in a restaurant. If they'd known my true status, they would never have attacked me so brutally, trying to earn themselves several shameful criminal charges, especially with audio and video recording. They don't realize that under such charges they'll have to sleep under a bunk next to a toilet, eat on the floor under a table with a holey spoon from a holey bowl—definitely unafraid idiots. Never mind them, I was most interested in the upcoming meeting. This will be my first time as an escort. I've seen such girls at negotiations, at business dinners, and during cultural outings. These aren't prostitutes in the traditional sense of the word, girls who are hired to have their asses used. Like the hetaerae of Ancient Greece, in addition to model looks, they must be educated and able to hold a conversation on any topic, from art to business, have good control of their bodies, and be able to dance and entertain their businessmen's clients, who often introduce them as their assistants. Some of them become actual assistants and even hold leadership positions in the company. I seem to meet all the criteria for the Armenians and their London counterparty. I know sub-Saharan Africa well, I've worked at John's mines, I've supervised exploration and production on numerous occasions, and I've often sorted diamonds, smuggled them out, and they were cut in Yerevan. I'm passionate about ancient culture and can talk for hours about it. Armenians are proud of their thousand-year history and their ancient culture, as an integral part of world antiquity. I think these Armenians are no exception. For a London jeweller, I have good British English and knowledge of the Westminster system of government, something the British like to be proud of, and this is generally in my specialty. Now, what should I wear? A dress or a skirt and blouse, considering I'll be there not only to engage in intellectual conversation but also to lift the spirits of the men and others. Clothes shouldn't conceal, but rather reveal and enhance the details of my figure. The dress I wore at the club yesterday would be suitable for this. A little black dress, in the style of Coco Chanel, sleeveless, only shorter, its fitted skirt barely covers the buttocks and accentuates the roundness of the buttocks and the cleavage between them. If you bend over with straight legs, it reveals the lower part of the buttocks. The low-cut bodice of the dress is looser than the skirt, and when I lean forward, the bodice sags, revealing my firm, C-cup breasts with erect nipples. For underwear, I'll only wear a black G-string with a small, translucent triangle at the front. It seems like a nice outfit. Now I need to think about whether to wear three-carat diamond earrings or costume jewelry. I only wore diamonds to negotiations with contractors, and costume jewelry to the club. The local security guards would hardly be able to distinguish a diamond from a cubic zirconia, and the Armenians would immediately realize their escort is far from poor and expensive. I'll have to pitch this idea to Zhenya to get him to sell me for more. By the way, I was always surprised by the lyrics of the song, “she has eyes like two three-carat diamonds.” I wouldn’t want to have eyes like that, just under one centimeter in diameter. The plan was ready, now I needed to rest until eleven. Zhenya's sperm was spreading through my rectum, causing a pleasant, slight burning sensation in my lower abdomen, and my clitoris was going crazy under my fingers from the excess male hormones seeping into my bloodstream through the thin, permeable walls of my intestines. I gave just a few thrusts with my fingers and orgasm washed over me. It was time for bed now, so I set my alarm for eleven and fell asleep. Waking up at the appointed time, I thoroughly rinsed my bottom until the water ran clear, showered, put on a hotel robe, and followed the internal navigation to the spa, where I underwent all the treatments, then to the makeup artist. While the girls at the spa weren't particularly friendly, they did a good job, the makeup artist, a young man, was lavish with compliments while working on me. By four o'clock, I was back in my room. I didn't go to the dining room; I didn't know how late I'd be with the clients, so I decided to keep my stomach light and keep my bowels clear of waste. Still wearing my robe, I sat down in a chair and started checking the news on my phone, waiting for Zhenya to arrive. At a quarter to five, someone knocked quietly on the door; it was Zheka. As soon as I opened the door, he entered the room without asking permission. - Well, are you ready, take off your robe and show me what you look like, show me the hole in your ass, I fucked it hard for you. I took off my robe and got on all fours on the edge of the bed. - You have an awesome machine, and a fucking hole, it's like I never fucked you in the ass, how did this happen? — I did special exercises to restore the anus. “You’re a fucking hot chick, you definitely sold yourself short, now get dressed and show me what you’ll look like,” he said and sat down in the chair to watch me get dressed. I put on a thong and a dress, turned my back to him and bent over with straight legs, revealing a view of the lower buttocks. - It looks fucking awesome, I could just slap you. Then I turned to face him and bent over, the bodice sagging, revealing my third-size breasts with erect nipples. - You have fucking amazing tits, I could just fuck between them. - Come on, I'll introduce you to the clients, they're staying in the presidential suite, there's a separate elevator from the lobby. — You keep talking about price, but the price depends on the escort’s package? - Of course it depends, everything seems to be fine with your packaging. — What if we add decorations? - Which? - I'll show you now. I took the earrings out of the safe, put them on and turned my head. - Well, are things better with them? - Yes, they sparkle beautifully, go ahead and wear them. — Of course they sparkle, two three-carat diamonds, Di Calo Vi Vi S. — Real? You're kidding! "The clients deal in diamonds; they can immediately distinguish diamonds from rhinestones, and I think they'll appreciate my packaging, which means I'm far from a cheap escort." - Fuck, why couldn't you tell me about your outfit earlier? I see you've gone for a pretty penny. "Well, that can be fixed. I'm new, this is my first time out and you and I didn't understand each other. I'm only willing to do one thing for this money, and if I want two, I'll have to pay extra. Then I'm ready for double penetration in two holes at the same time, and even two cocks in one hole. But before that conversation, I need to show off so they really want me. Make sure there's Latin American music in the room, preferably Salsa." - You're just the queen of ripping off men. I'll call the bar now so they can find the disc, and now we'll go to the clients, and on the way we'll stop by the bar for some music. When we entered the bar, the local girls, the regulars, looked at me with a mixture of malice and envy; they probably knew where Zheka, their pimp, was taking me. He picked up the disc and handed it to me to see if it was suitable. "This is just what we need, let's go," I commanded, and we headed toward the elevator, where a security guard was sitting. This only further angered and envyed the locals; they saw me as their competition. The closer we got to the elevator, the more uncomfortable I felt. I'd never been in this situation before: I was being led like a heifer to the slaughterhouse, to two men who had paid for my prostitution services, and I would have to please them, whether I liked them or not. I was used to meeting guys and men I liked at friendly parties and corporate events, in clubs, bars, and restaurants, on walks and on the beach, and sometimes I even met them on public transportation. But I was always in control, able to brush off persistent suitors and choose the guys myself, and I'd have inspiration on how to seduce the guy I liked into sex. As for what to do with these guys, I hadn't even seen their photos; they were pigs in a poke. I was completely uninspired even to flirt. We took the elevator directly to the presidential suite, into a spacious hallway, from which we entered the living room. There, in armchairs near a low table, sat two rather handsome men, one about 55 years old, the other about fifteen years younger. Jacques shook hands with each of them and said, - This is our Chloe, out for the first time. I curtsied to each of the men, they appreciated it, especially the eldest, he was the first to speak up, “You really do look like Chloe from classical antiquity, your figure resembles an antique statue covered with a light tunic, please sit down, it’s uncomfortable, we are sitting and you are standing,” he said, pointing to the sofa opposite them. “Thank you for the compliment, and ancient culture has been my hobby since school,” having said this, I sat down on the sofa opposite them and crossed my legs, completely exposing my pubic area through the translucent black thong with a neatly trimmed thin strip of hair in the middle. - No, what are you saying, it's not a compliment, it's true, you look like an ancient goddess - the young one has made his contribution. "Yes, sorry, we forgot to introduce ourselves, we were simply stunned by your beauty. I'm Tigran, and this is my nephew Arsen," he said, wanting to extend his hand for a handshake, but I got ahead of him, jumping up from my seat, bending over so that my bra sagged and exposed my firm, C-cup breasts, and shaking my mane so that the scent of my aphrodisiac perfume reached him. Our hands met in a handshake, Tigran holding my hand longer than necessary, as I realized, he was examining my breasts and inhaling the scent of the perfume, which he really liked, and I said languidly, “It was very nice to meet such impressive men.” I did the same with Arsen. It seemed to me that the men were pleased with the start of the conversation, judging by the bulges in their pants. But I didn't quite understand Tigran's gesture; he touched his earlobe, looking at Arsen, who nodded in response. — I propose a toast to our acquaintance. Arsen, bring glasses from the minibar, some whiskey, and what will our ancient goddess drink? - Also whiskey, but with soda, Tigran, can I look after you and bring everything, otherwise it’s not very nice when a woman sits and a man serves at the table. "Well, go ahead and flirt with me. You're talking just like an Armenian girl. Do you have Armenian relatives? You look like a half-Armenian, with the same beautiful curly hair, expressive eyes, and sensual, full lips." - No, only the Greeks, they are similar to the Armenians, the same thousand-year-old culture. I got up from the couch and walked to the minibar, deliberately wiggling my butt and swinging my hips, my bare buttocks bouncing up and down under the thin, slippery fabric as I walked. Near the minibar, I bent over with straight legs, feeling the hem of my dress slide and expose my buns, stopping only when they were a third bare from the bottom. I took out four glasses, placed them on the top shelf of the minibar, pulled down the hem of my dress, and brought the glasses. As I placed them, I leaned over the table so that the bodice sagged and exposed my breasts. After setting down the glasses, I went for whiskey. I found a bottle of single-malt whiskey right away, but pretended to look for a soda. To do so, I bent over, legs straight, and my hem slipped up, almost half exposing my bottom. My buttocks parted spontaneously, revealing my anus, covered with a thin ribbon. I couldn't find the soda, so I pulled down my skirt, grabbed a bottle of whiskey, a Coca-Cola, some nuts, and walked to the table, deliberately wiggling my butt and swaying my hips. When I stood next to Tigran to put the bottles of nuts on the table, I felt his hand on my butt, he was stroking my buns through the fabric. - Chloe, you have a very beautiful and firm butt, just like an ancient goddess. I began to tense and relax the muscles of my buttocks, left, right, then both at once, causing my buns to jump up and down under Tigran’s palm. - How lovely, how do you do it? — I also have a hobby, I am interested in Latin American dancing, and these are some of the steps that are used in the dance. - And can you dance for us? - Of course, but you have to take off your shoes; it won’t work in heels. Then I heard Zheka’s voice, who was sitting on the sofa next to me. - Tigran, can I talk to you for a minute, we need to talk. They left the living room, and I sat down on the sofa opposite Arsen, crossed my legs, deliberately slowly, so that he could see my pubic area with a thin strip of hair in the middle, and strained my ears. Zheka spoke very quietly, and it was difficult to make out his words. Then Tigran's loud laughter, and his quiet words... no problem... Then Zheka mumbled something. Then they returned to the living room, Tigran turned to me, — What will our ancient goddess drink? — I'll have whiskey and cola 50/50, but no more than a quarter of a glass. - Or maybe order something at a restaurant? - No, it’s not necessary, I like whiskey and cola in small quantities. Tigran poured whiskey for everyone, and added 50/50 Cola to my glass and said, — Let's drink to our acquaintance and to our ancient goddess; to the ladies, drink standing up and to the bottom. Arsen got up from the couch, and I, of course, remained sitting there, sipping my whiskey and Coke and admiring the three cocks protruding from the men's pants. This image turned me on; it's always nice to be desired, and my holes responded with a gentle pulsation and a release of lubrication in anticipation of good sex. Everyone except me drank their whiskey, put their glasses on the table and sat down in their places, except for Zheka, who remained standing and said, - Rest, gentlemen, and I’m going, I still have a lot to do. As soon as the elevator doors closed, Tigran turned to me, - Chloe-jan, will you dance your fiery dance for us? Excuse me, can I be informal with you? - Of course, you can call me by the informal "you", and I would be very happy to dance for such respectable and imposing men. I got up from the couch, took off my shoes, grabbed a CD from the table, and walked over to the stereo, deliberately wiggling my butt and swaying my hips. There, I put the CD in the stereo, found a salsa tune, and began dancing. Vigorously moving my hips and buttocks, tensing and relaxing them, I moved toward the men, turning to face them, first one way, then the other. When she came close to the table during the dance, she grabbed the hem of her dress and began to slowly lift it up, exposing her body. When the dress reached my chest, I grabbed it and lifted it up with outstretched arms to emphasize the firmness of my breasts, and began to actively move my butt and breasts at the same time, turning different sides towards the men. Then she threw her dress on the table and began vigorously moving her body, periodically miming intercourse with her pelvis, first in her pussy, then in her ass, all while wearing a thong. The men couldn't resist for long; they took off their pants and underwear and sat there, stroking their not-so-small cocks, especially Tigran's, which was long and had a large, round head. The sight of two imposing men jerking off over me sent butterflies fluttering in my stomach and twitching in my ass. I turned my back to them and began to bend over, straight-legged, dancing, pulling down my thong and exposing my anus and labia minora. When the thong reached below my knees, it fell to the floor. I stepped over it, but the table prevented me from approaching the men. They pushed the table aside, and I moved closer to them with my back to them, still dancing. The acoustic waves emanating from the subwoofers shook my entire body, increasing my arousal. Tigran grabbed me by my buns, bouncing in the acoustic waves, and kissed my buttocks. I pushed Tigran away and, dancing, squatted between his legs and looked at his erect penis with its large head, from the center of which a drop of clear lubricant oozed. I licked it off, and it spread across my tongue, causing intense arousal, and I began to swallow him. When he was in my throat, and my nose was pressed against Tigran's pubis, I began to massage his penis with swallowing movements. It began to swell in my throat, and I began to have difficulty breathing. I carefully pulled him out of my mouth and, without rising from my squatting position, looked at Tigran. - Where do you want it, in the pussy or the ass? - Of course, in your beautiful ass. - Then wait a minute, I'll prepare it for you. I took a tube of anal sex gel out of my clutch, applied it to Tigran's penis and smeared it over the shaft, then smeared it between my buttocks and got on all fours on the edge of the sofa. - Chloe-jan, you have an amazing machine, your ass is just made for sex. - Thank you for your kind words, I'm very glad that you like it. I felt the head of his penis at the center of my anus, relaxed it, and moved my ass toward it. The ring of my anus reluctantly tightened around the gel-slick, round head of Tigran's penis, causing pleasant sparks of voluptuousness. When it jumped from the head onto the shaft of the penis, instinctively squeezing it tightly, a bright impulse of voluptuousness shot through my body from head to toe. Then his cock moved easily inside me, and when it was fully inside me, I pressed my ass tightly against Tigran's pubis, his hair pleasantly tickling my anus stretched around his cock. Tigran leaned forward slightly, grabbed my breasts, and pressed me to him. I arched my butt back and up so it would be easier for Tigran to fuck me. Catching the rhythm of the Salsa, amplified by the subwoofers, I began to dance with my butt with his cock inside me. I began to alternately tense my left and then my right buttock. They jumped up and down, moving in antiphase along Tigran's pubis, first one, then the other, twisting the penis, now clockwise, then counterclockwise, then I began to tense and relax both buttocks together, simultaneously moving my pelvis up and down in the rhythm of Salsa. Tigran caught the rhythm of the salsa, and we moved in unison, back and forth. Tigran kissed my neck, inhaling the scent of my aphrodisiac perfume, kneaded my breasts with both hands, tugging at my erect nipples, and fucked me in the ass. The head massaged my vagina through the thin wall of my rectum in time to the melody. Each friction evoked vibrant pulses of lust, amplified by the rhythm of the subwoofers shaking our bodies. Each subsequent thrust was more intense than the last, and very quickly, a powerful and intense orgasm washed over me, like a volcanic crater exploding with a rhythmic release of molten lava of lust. My legs began to shake, then my arms, then my buttocks began to tense and relax involuntarily, and powerful and very pleasant spasms and pulsations began in my lower abdomen, in time with the melody, amplified by the subwoofers. Bright flashes appeared before my eyes, then darkness. I woke up to Tigran holding me by the hips and jerking his cock off with my ass like a rubber doll. A minute later, I felt strong pulsations and powerful shots of sperm in my rectum. When the shots and pulsations stopped, Tigran carefully laid me down on the couch. I quickly clenched my anus to keep the sperm from spilling out. - Oh, Tigran, I'm sorry, I came so hard and intensely that I passed out. I can't remember the last time I had such intense sex, except with my husband on our honeymoon. - Yes, everything is fine, Chloe-jan, I love it when a woman cums with me, especially brightly, like you.