She led him back down to the garages. The full moon had broken through the clouds and was now bathing them in a silvery glow. It was almost romantic, she reflected. Well, apart from the freezing cold, the cluster of bins overflowing with trash and used condoms, the smell of urine and the sound of two Tomcats hissing and spitting at each other as they had a bit of a ding-dong on the garage roof.
The punter wanted to do her standing up, but not from behind. “Okay, but I don’t do kissing,” she told him. It was better to get that straight, right from the off.
He pulled a face. “I have absolutely no interest in kissing you,” he assured her in a derisory tone that implied he found the thought repugnant. “I just want to be able to see your face.”
“Fair enough,” she said, holding out her hand for payment. “We can do that.”
He handed over the money and they got straight down to it – she had charged him fifteen pounds over the odds and, to her delight, the naive fool had actually coughed up the cash without batting an eyelid.
Willow tried to make him hard by using her hand, but after several unsuccessful minutes of tugging, she grew impatient. “Is there a problem?” she demanded, irritably. Her hand was growing tired and she was getting bored, but at least all the yanking had warmed her up.
“I’m just a little cold,” he told her, but she could tell he was lying.
“Are you having trouble getting it up?” she asked, raising an accusing eyebrow. If he was, she had no intention of giving him a refund.
“No,” he said, a little too quickly. “It’s just that…well…perhaps we could play a little game to help get me in the mood.”
An alarm bell went off inside Willow’s head. Some of the other girls were willing to indulge the perverts with so-called ‘special needs’, but she had never been into that. “I don’t do kinky,” she told him, releasing his flaccid tool and taking a step backward. “I’ll fuck, suck or wank you off, but that’s where I draw the line. There are plenty of other girls who are willing to play rough or whatever, but I’m not one of them.”
His demeanour changed abruptly, and he lunged forward, grabbing her arms aggressively. “Don’t you dare start acting all virtuous with me,” he warned, slamming her back against the garage door with such force that it made her bones rattle. Willow gasped as the air was knocked from her lungs. She opened her mouth to scream, but he had anticipated that. The punter clamped a leather gloved hand across her mouth and squeezed so hard that she thought her lower jaw was going to break. He smiled at her pain, and there was a spiteful glint in his eyes that told her that the sadistic bastard was getting far more pleasure out of her fear than he had from her hand. “Make a noise and I’ll kill you, do you understand?”
Willow nodded, terrified. Her heart was beating so fast that she thought it might explode inside her chest; this was every sex worker’s worst nightmare, and she knew that her survival might depend on keeping calm and doing whatever he said, even if it meant remaining passive while he roughed her up.
He was studying her dispassionately, the way that a cat toying with a mouse does just before killing it. “I like to say and do certain things when I fuck,” he explained, as though that made the way he’d just manhandled her okay. “You know: things that I can’t say or do when I’m with my wife.” Their eyes locked for a moment and she thought she detected a glimmer of sadness in them, but then his face contorted into a mask of hatred. “And I’m going to do all those things to you, right now.” The words were spat out with such malevolence that Willow nearly wet herself with fright.
The punter’s wife had been raised as a strict Catholic. For her, sex was an unpleasantness that married couples indulged in purely for the purposes of procreation; it was always done in the missionary position and never – ever – with the lights on. He respected her views because he loved her, but love or not, he still had needs, and when it became apparent that she wasn’t going to satisfy them, he quickly found an alternative outlet. He’d happily used the services of prostitutes in his younger years, and it seemed a better solution to his predicament than taking a lover. After all, when you thought about it, having sex with a prostitute was no different to relieving yourself with your hand; it was basically just another way of masturbating.
The trouble was, he wanted to do more than just fuck them; he wanted to hurt and abuse them. He wasn’t sure why, but the desire to beat up one of the working girls had finally become too powerful to resist, which was why he had travelled here tonight, to an area where he was unknown. He was finally going to act out his secret fantasy.
“Here’s how it’s going to work,” he told her, grinning with a maniacal intensity that she found terrifying. “You’re going to stand there and take whatever I do to you without complaint, and when it’s over you’re going to go down on your knees and thank me. Do you understand me?” Before she could respond he removed the hand from her mouth and slapped her violently across the face. Willow cried out in pain.
