I stood in the bathroom, checking my outfit in the mirror. They had provided all of the clothing for me. A short, tattered blue jean miniskirt and pink crop top. I look like a truck stop whore. The one thing they had not given me was underwear, leaving my cock and balls visible below the edge of the skirt. I shook my hips back and forth, allowing them to slap against my thighs. I loved that feeling. It reminded me of the immense power that hung between my legs. I could be the giver or the recipient, the cock or the hole. My thoughts excited me, causing my limp package to expand and press against the jean fabric.
As I checked my phone, I realized that I was running late. I quickly gathered up my things, turned off the light, and walked down the hallway to the first door on the left. There was an old, dingy mattress lying on the floor, but the room was otherwise empty. It looked out of place in such a luxurious house. I closed the door behind me, leaving my purse and clothes in a pile in the corner. The mattress was stained and the springs poked into my back, but I lied there and waited. I had specific instructions, and I was being paid far too much to deviate from the arrangement, even in the slightest way.