A couple months after I had settled in and became comfortable servicing Miss F, Mistress R then broached with me taking on a second client.

‘Are you ready now for your first male client?’ Mistress R asked one night while we were lounging around her studio. – ‘I think so, although I am expecting it will be quite different experience than dealing with Miss F’ I replied. ‘Have you got someone in mind?’

‘Yes, I do. You have already met him, although you wouldn’t have known at the time. He was one of those who fucked you, twice in fact, during my cocktail party – and since his usual pleasure boy is no longer available for him, he was asking about you.’

‘What is he like?’ I asked.

Mistress R sat back and took a moment to think. ‘Let’s see, he is quite older than you, probably by 25 to 30 years, I put him in his mid-late 50s 60-maybe I would think. European guy, dresses quite stylish always in suits, and has roots here and there. Very serious, hurried to the point, and brusque in manner.’ Mistress R told me his nationality and it was the same as one of my grandparents.

‘And why me? Why is asking about me specifically?’

‘Well, to put it bluntly, he likes fucking young men in their late teens and twenties. And he liked how you felt and performed for him’ – ‘Oh, I see’

‘Unlike Miss F, you can be your bi-self around him, dress and act as a boy, or a pretty fag boy for him, he won’t care – all he wants is your ass and mouth. He’s just into the sex act, so how you perform is more important than your appearance. But certainly do what you need to get aroused and make it enjoyable for yourself as well’.

Between us, Mistress R and I soon nicknamed this client ‘Mister EU’ because his initials were E and U, he was from Europe, and spoke with a heavy accent.

To help give me an idea what Mister EU would be expecting from our sessions, as well as give me an idea how I wanted to dress and play-act my personality for it, Mistress R and I sat down together and devised a sex menu which would be offered to him a couple days before our encounter, so I could then prepare myself ahead of time. It was divided into two parts, both listing boxes to tick off with all the various acts I was willing to perform – for example: anal, basic blowjob, face fuck, toy play, slave duty, and some others – and how he wanted me to dress for that session – for example: young boyfriend, pretty boy, full drag, bondage gear, leather and latex, etc. and later adding specific articles of clothing I had in my wardrobe, type of footwear, or even what colour lipstick and how he wanted my hair done. All in all there were about 50 different items for him to decide on, mostly about my appearance, given his whims. He would fax it over to Mistress R, who would then relay it to me verbally over the phone.

Unlike Miss F, who I remember quite a bit about our time together, maybe because over time I began to find I actually enjoyed spending time with her as she was easy to please, with Mister EU I don’t even recall how our first one-on-one encounter played out. Details of particular sessions with him and their acts are hazy to me now – but in general, I would show up at the same downtown ritzy hotel room he would book, dropped off by Mistress R or her chauffeur man-servant M. Depending what was selected from the menu that day and how discrete I could make my way through the lobby area without attracting too much attention, I would either show up fully dressed in that session’s outfit (I always wore the same heavy, grey woollen coat to cover me up as much as possible) or I would have my suitcase in tow and change there on arrival in his room.

On the subject of discretion, the head concierge that worked there knew about me and why I was there. When he saw or heard me approaching, he would quickly secure an elevator for just me, in which he would personally escort me up to the floor where my client was waiting. In time as I became comfortable with the hotel set-up, I became a little more brazen and I particularly enjoyed it if I was wearing heels and my loud clicking along the polished marble floor was audible throughout the lobby. That sound and the public location sometimes aroused me underneath my heavy coat but I never looked around to see if anyone was looking at me, as I would just robotically walk and stare straight ahead and make my direct route as possible to the elevator.  

Inside the elevator, we never spoke between us about my client or about my work - or anything at all, for that matter. It was a mutual, silent understanding done through nods and expressions conveyed in our eyes. I knew the concierge was gay, as I had spotted him once out with another man one night at a gay club, so I felt like he respected and sympathised with my client’s sexuality and desires as well as my own situation. I am sure someone, either Mister EU or Mistress R, was paying off the concierge for his discretion and assistance. Sometimes I would show up wearing a lot of latex and fetish gear underneath – and once inside the elevator, he would put his hand up to block the security camera as I adjusted myself, added some final touches, such as my latex hood, or ballgag, or a dog leash – one time I was handcuffing my hands behind my back. In these extreme instances, he would check outside into the hall and give me an all-clear wave for me to proceed to my final destination.

I did try once to see if I could get his interest – on leaving, I opened my coat wide and lifted up my skirt to expose myself to him, implying ‘do you want?’ expression, but he wasn’t interested in me. Maybe he felt I was off-limits due to his regular guest, or I just was not his type. Or maybe he regarded me as dirty goods from my activities.

Mister EU was invariably consistent in his sexual tastes. I was there first and foremost so he could plow my tight and firm boy ass – so I tried to focus on how I offered up my hole to him although I was always taken from behind. Where there would be variety in the acts was how he wanted me to suck his cock. Sometimes he was standing, sometimes sitting in a chair, with me down on my knees. Sometimes I would jerk him off in my hand before placing him in my mouth, and sometimes he wanted me to lay back on the bed, with my head upside down and hanging over the edge, so he could throat fuck me, his balls slapping at my face.

One of his selections on the order menu was choosing whether he would blow his first load in my mouth or over my face. I wasn’t required to swallow, thankfully, as drinking cum wasn’t something I enjoyed although I did it on rare occasion from time to time, just for ‘the show’ it for him. And once we had commenced with anal, my mouth was then off-limits for him.

If he was going to come into my mouth, I would sometimes wear a ring gag for him to aim into – unless he wanted throat fucking, which he would force me to choke and gargle on it before my throat reflux kicked in and spewed it out over my face and on the floor.

He loved seeing cum all over my face, and he loved it especially when I had worn my glasses (either deliberately or I had simply forgotten I was wearing them) so whenever I did wear them, he invariably wanted to shoot his load over them. It seemed to be the only spark of desire he displayed, the image of cum dripping off my glasses made him almost giddy-like.

I was not allowed to clean up after any facials, so later we’d be fucking and I’d still have cum splatter crusted on my face or dried on my glasses. I found I most enjoyed it when I wore my latex hood, because I loved how cum looked on its shiny surface and dribbled down it – and he liked the look of that too. When wearing it, I would try to position us so I had a good view of the room mirror so I could admire my sloppy latexed face. As Mistress R had said, try make it enjoyable for me too. I would sometimes try to collect my own cum in a glass and pour it over my face for extra goo on my glasses.

After opening with oral from me, and he had recovered from his first ejaculation, I would remove the lubed-up buttplug I had been wearing and he would fuck my ass a couple more times until he became exhausted. We’d take a break between fucks, and sometimes I would perform some sort of strip tease for him, or self-bondage show – although I felt from his usual lack of attention that I was doing these shows mostly to maintain my own arousal than his.

The fucking itself was almost mechanical from him: the one same, hard thrusting speed. I could tell when he was actually getting some arousal as his deep baritone voice would grunt in rhythm with his thrusts, tightening his hands around my waist or on my ass cheeks, until he shot his load with one long deep throaty ‘aaaagghh’. If I could reach myself, I would stroke my own cock so I could come too at that same time. While his style was repetitive, I did enjoy its hardness and firm deliberateness as he pumped me.

Unlike Miss F, who was desiring emotional company, as well, if not more sometimes, than sexual company from me, with Mister EU the man displayed no emotion towards me and I was simply there as a receptacle for his sexual release.

We probably would not have talked substantively at all except, while English is my first language, I grew up speaking two other languages at home as well, and while I had forgotten most of them years later, I still had a faint accent from both them, which sometimes snuck some odd pronunciation into my native English. One of those languages was from the same country as Mister EU came from and he could detect that and remarked on it one day. I don’t know if he then felt some immediate common ground between us because of that, but I noticed that from then on he seemed just slightly more relaxed and talkative with me.

As I came to know him, from what time we spent talking to each other, he had some rather unusual viewpoints about (his) sexuality – and I came to the conclusion over time he was definitely asexual and perhaps sociopathic as well.

He showed no attraction or liking towards women, dismissing them as collectively weak and basically existing for breeding purposes. However, he did not think of himself at all as gay as he did not seek any emotional connection from men. He just felt that since he was a man, he should therefore use men to provide him the release for his male hormones. As he told me once, only men have penises and only men know how it feels to have them pleasured, no woman can know that, so naturally, his conclusion was only men could provide pleasure for penises. My reply when I heard that was a neutrally disagreeing ‘I suppose that’s true if that’s how you feel’.

He never really asked about me (apart from our shared ethnic heritage) although he did scold me once when somehow in our discussion I admitted that I also slept with women. ‘Just men, you only need men for this!’ he corrected me, and I promptly ignored. I never bothered to ask him why, if he so disliked, hated perhaps women, that it was acceptable for me to dress up in women’s skirts and heels and whatever else I may have worn that evening for him – which I know he liked because of his various selections made on the session menu.

One of his favourite outfits I wore for him was dressing up in what I called my school-boy outfit. I knew and played off for arousal how many older men seem to really get off on the private school-look, but this was really was just modifications on something I wore out to my local clubs: black shirt, black tie, black shorts, and black over the knee socks, with doc marten boots – with my hair gelled and combed back or over to one side, glasses, and black lipstick. I do seem to recall, too, once dressing up as a private school girl for him complete with a black bob wig.

From my perspective during our sexual contact, this thinking of his was pretty obvious in how it manifested between us. We never kissed nor were intimate. We never touched either one above the belt line. We never slept in bed together – when he was done with me for that session, it was ‘okay I am done, you can leave now…’ No thank you or even compliment how he felt from fucking me. It was show up, fuck for a couple hours to release his sexual angst, and then be on my way. Between our fucks, once he had finished with his orgasm he’d often just pull out and push me off to one side, and I would wait in fetal position or sit off to one side on the bed until he indicated he was ready for another round and he would then re-position me how he wanted to take me.

In a strange way, how he treated me as fuck meat for him, in turn made me enjoy and appreciate my sessions spent with Miss F. The thing about Mister EU that made me most look forward to our sessions was that he had a really beautiful, smooth clean cock and firm, hairless balls when he was erect – which I always enjoyed sucking and holding in my hands. This helped me work him pretty good, and once in a while he would actually, grudgingly admit, ‘that was good’. That and he felt so good in my ass.

When I decided to retire from sexwork when I turned 30, Mistress R and I had some black and white head shots taken of me wearing my glasses, with a blank emotionless dead stare forward and assorted splatters of cum (provided courtesy of her chauffeur) splattered about my face and glasses – printed out on glossy 8x10 stock which I then left behind for him in an envelope as a memento of our sessions together. I do not know what he thought of them when he found them left by the bedside, but I do know Mistress R thoroughly enjoyed going with me to the photo developers to pick up the half-dozen images, watching my humiliation and uncomfortableness when she insisted right then and here, ‘you better open them up to check they gave you the right photos’, and I had to remove them from their envelopes and place them all out on the counter, in view of the two taken-aback server staff here – who could easily see that I was the subject in them. I looked at her and she had a big, beaming smile of satisfaction. One of those photographs ended up framed and hung in one of the washrooms at Mistress R’s studio office. Unfortunately, I never received any of my own copies, and I have always wondered how many people had seen it and possibly stroked off looking at it while it was hanging up there.

The other thing that made me enjoy our sessions was how this client especially hammered home how I was first and foremost a prostitute, an honest to goodness whore, a sex toy and nothing more… which helped make me feel and enjoy my own inner slut-self and deal with my own inner perversions and sexual conflicts which I was trying to come to terms with inside my own mind.