Chapter Seven

Bethany Shaw stirred on the sagging couch in Warren’s living room, the morning light hitting her as the half-closed blinds struggled to hide the Vegas sun. Her body ached, a dull throb pulsing through her muscles from the previous night’s ordeal, Rico’s choking grip still a phantom reminder on her throat.

The yellow Lycra dress she’d worn still clung to her sweat-drenched curves, a testament to the lack of air-conditioning in Warren’s house, its tight fabric outlining the undercover cop’s enhanced breasts, and riding high on her thighs. Her 5-inch platform heels lay discarded on the hardwood floor, leaving her feet curled beneath a thin throw blanket.

A soft clink of glass broke the morning quiet, drawing Beth’s gaze to the open-plan kitchen. Warren stood at the counter, his well-built frame clad in a snug olive-green button-up shirt that traced the contours of his broad chest. His graying hair was tousled after he had clearly just gotten out of bed himself, and a sly grin curved his lips as he approached the busty blonde and set an iced coffee on the table next to her. She caught a whiff of the faint scent of his body odor as he bent over to deliver her coffee, causing the woman to recoil.

“How are you holding up, Bambi?” Warren asked, using Beth’s escort name again, as he stood over her provocative form.

The blonde sat up, her platinum curls cascading over her shoulders, and reached for the glass, the chill soothing her trembling fingers. She opened her mouth, expecting the ditsy valley-girl lilt that her handler had constantly enforced on her, only to be pleasantly surprised when she spoke coherently. “I’m sore, tired, and ready to tear your head off, Daddy.” She grimaced. Despite speaking in her natural dialect, Warren’s command to always refer to him as Daddy remained. “This is getting dangerous, and we haven’t even come across the damn killer yet.”

Warren’s grin sharpened, his gray eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and calculated control as he walked over to the dining table, placing his hand against it. “You’re still kicking, aren’t you, Bambi? Thanks to me, I might add.” He paused, “That’s more than some girls on the street can say.” The former detective gestured toward the table, where a scattering of LVPD files and grainy photographs lay. At the head of the table were the images of the girls who had been murdered, including Sweetlips, in their dollified state as if Warren was reminding the blonde why she had agreed to the mission in the first place.

As Bambi approached the table, her heart sank at the remaining photos. Numerous images of men leaving her motel room, each image a stark reminder of her degrading undercover work. “Come on, we’ve got work to do,” he told her.

Beth’s bare feet padded softly against the floor as she approached the wooden dining table. She was conscious of Warren eyeing the deep cleavage left exposed by the plunging neckline of the dress. No matter how often he stared at her, it always felt disgusting. She set the coffee down on the table with a delicate clink and braced her hands on the table, her manicured nails sparkling against the sun’s rays.

The blonde scanned the photographs, her stomach twisting as she counted over forty faces, each one a man she’d serviced in her undercover role as Bambi. The sheer number made her throat tighten, a wave of shame crashing over her as she came face to face with exactly how many perverted strangers had claimed her body. “This is too much, Daddy,” she said, groaning at her use of the word again. “There are too many to keep track of. How are we supposed to find the Toymaker out of all of these?”

Warren stood behind his charge, his gaze lingering over her shoulder with a smug satisfaction as the woman stared at the images. “Focus on the repeat customers, Bambi,” he said, pointing at a smaller selection in the corner of the table. These were Beth’s most recognizable clients. “There are still over a dozen, but you fit the killer’s type perfectly. If you’ve been with him already, there’s no way he could resist a return visit.” His voice carried a mocking edge as he moved to the side of his bimbo project. He wasn’t wrong, he thought to himself.

Beth’s fingers tightened on the table’s edge as she leaned forward, her enhanced breasts straining against the dress. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, Daddy?” Her voice was sharp, laced with defiance despite the forced endearment. “You’re supposed to be helping me find the killer, not parade me around Vegas like some trophy. You’re pathetic.”

Warren couldn’t help but chuckle. Even in her sparse outbursts, she couldn’t help but call him Daddy. “Oh, Bambi, you’re too wound up for your own good.” His eyes flinted with sadistic amusement, reveling in the humiliation of his hated former partner’s daughter. He glanced down at the images. “Let’s get to it. Pick one, and tell me why he’s not our guy. Let’s eliminate some.”

Beth’s blue eyes narrowed as she forced her gaze to the photos, her heart pounding with a mix of shame and determination. She knew that the moment the Toymaker was caught, she’d be free of the mission and Warren’s control. The escort reached for the nearest image, a grainy shot of a lanky man with slicked-back hair. “This is Jerry,” she said steadily. “He’s a car salesman, local. He always books me for quick sessions and drives a gray sedan. No sports car, no out-of-state vibe. He’s not our guy.” She flicked the photo aside, and Warren slid it towards the other eliminated men.

Beth reached for another photo, her manicured fingers brushing the flossy surface as she pulled it closer. The image showed a stocky man with a receding hairline, his face flushed as he left her motel after a recent session. “This is Tony,” she said as she recalled his rough hands on her enhanced assets. “He’s an accountant, always bragging about his bonuses. He drives a white Lexus, but he started seeing me even before I looked like ‘this’.” She glanced down at her curves in shame. “He’s never mentioned anything suspicious, so I don’t think he’s the killer.” She tossed the photo aside.

Warren nodded and crossed his arms, his gaze lingering on her exposed skin as the transformed cop studied the images, “Keep going, Bambi. Our killer could be here under our very nose.”

One by one, Beth eliminated all of her regular clients. Most of them were local, with easily identifiable business records, or didn’t follow the pattern they had come to expect from the Toymaker. “This is a waste of time, Daddy,” she whined. “I’ve debased myself for these perverts, and I don’t think any of them are who we’re looking for. It’s hopeless!” In her frustration, she swiped her hand across the table, sending the photos tumbling to the wooden floor.

Warren’s chuckle deepened as he stepped closer to the blonde, his odored stench lingering in the air. “Oh, Bambi, you’re letting that pretty little head of yours get all worked up over nothing.” He bent down and gathered the scattered photos with a deliberate slowness, his eyes flickering up to meet hers, relishing the woman’s frustration. “You’re not here to think too hard, doll. That’s my job.”

Beth’s chest heaved with a sharp intake of breath, her inflated breasts straining further against her outfit. She glared at her handler. “I’m not your damn doll, Daddy,” she snapped. “I’ve been out there every single night, letting these creeps use me, and for what? Nothing! How long do I have to keep this up before you admit this isn’t working?” Her blue eyes blazed as the blonde hurled her anger at him.

The man straightened and continued to smirk as he nonchalantly stacked the photos neatly. “You’ll keep at it until we get a real lead, Bambi,” he said, his tone low and commanding as his eyes locked on hers with a possessive intensity. “Look at you. You’re literally built for this now, doll. Every john out there wants a piece of your sweet ass, and one of them’s our killer. Keep working the streets like a good whore, and he’ll come to you.” He approached her and grazed a finger along her jaw, his smirk sharpening as he saw the undercover cop flinch.

Beth recoiled from his touch, with her skin prickling in revulsion as she stepped back to create space between them. “Don’t touch me, Daddy,” she spat, wincing at the use of Daddy again. “I’m done with your little jabs. We need a new strategy.”

“You know, I’ve had enough of that smart mouth for one day, Bambi,” Warren retorted, his smirk twisting into a colder, more calculated expression. He stepped forward to close the gap between them again. “You’re not calling the shots here, doll. It’s time to get back in line.” He paused, grinning from ear to ear with sadistic delight. “Bambi is a dumb bimbo.”

Beth had no time to react as her mind jolted, the trigger snapping her dialect back into the sugary valley-girl lilt she despised. “Like, oh my gosh, Daddy, you’re such an uncool meanie!” she squealed, her plump lips pouting as if to emphasize her petulant point.

Warren adjusted his shirt collar and leaned back against the dining table before crossing his arms with a smug satisfaction. He savored the sight of his humiliated partner’s pouty lips and the way her dress from the previous night enhanced her exaggerated curves, curves that he had orchestrated. “That’s more like it, Bambi,” he said condescendingly as he stood back up straight. “Now, listen up, doll. There’s a finance convention in town tonight, so the streets’ll be crawling with horny businessmen looking for a piece of you.” He grinned. “Get back to that motel, slip into something sexy, and work that corner hard.” His hand darted out, delivering a sharp, playful slap to Beth’s plump rear, the sound echoing in the room as she chuckled at her startled flinch.

Beth’s heart pounded with a fiery mix of rage and helplessness, her conditioning forcing her to comply with Warren’s command despite the storm of defiance raging inside her. She snatched the platform heels from the floor, slipping them on with a mechanical grace before standing straight. She narrowed her eyes in her handler’s direction before tottering toward the door, each step a seductive sway that mocked her true self.

As she disappeared, Warren grinned to himself. He truly did want to catch that killer, but he was having the time of his life until they did.

❖

Beth strutted along the cracked sidewalk of the street commonly nicknamed ‘Whore Avenue’, her 6-inch pink platform heels clicking rhythmically against the pavement. The Vegas night buzzed with energy, the finance convention flooding the streets with hungry businessmen looking for cash to burn. Beth’s pink bikini top barely contained her impressive breasts, while the matching bikini bottoms hugged her curves, leaving little to the imagination. Fishnet stockings, the same candy pink, clung to her toned legs, amplifying her allure as she paced the corner alone. Warren had been right; the streets were alive, and an escort like her never lingered on the street for very long before being claimed.

A low rumble of an engine broke her rhythm, and Beth turned to see a black SUV crawling along the curb, its tinted windows rolling down to reveal Mike, a sleazy businessman she’d serviced several times before. His dark hair, with its receding hairline, gleamed under the interior vehicle lights, and his twisted grin sent a shudder through the undercover cop. Her heart sank as she knew this encounter wouldn’t bear any fruit. She had run a background check on the man weeks ago. He was a Nevada man with a young family. He was definitely not the Toymaker, and her only hope was that he may have heard something valuable from the other whores.

“Well, damn, Bambi, you’re looking sexy as fuck in that getup,” Mike drawled, raking his eyes over the busty blonde’s scantily clad body. “Hop in, baby. I’ve got an itching for something special.”

Beth’s stomach churned, her conditioning forcing a sultry smile as she leaned towards the SUV’s open window, her platinum locks spilling over her shoulders. “Like, hi, Mikey. You’re totally looking super hot tonight, too,” she chirped in her valley-girl lilt, her plump pink-painted lips smiling despite the dread coiling in her chest.

The blonde knew Mike’s penchant for control and his obsession with binding escorts. She had resisted his rope requests several times during their sessions before she finally relented. Each repeat session eroded her stubborn pride piece by piece. She slid into the passenger seat, the cool leather kissing her bare thighs, and the door clicked shut, sealing her in with the sleazy businessman.

Mike’s grin widened as he steered his large black car toward a secluded parking garage just off the Strip; the neon glow of the tall, distant casinos was the only source of light, save for Mike’s SUV lamps. He parked the car in a corner and switched the internal lights on before turning to Beth with a predatory glint in his eyes. “You know what I like, Bambi,” he said commandingly as he reached into the backseat, retrieving a coil of thick black rope. “Get in the back. Let’s make this extra special tonight, and I may leave you a nice, big tip.”

Beth’s heart raced, her conditioning compelling her to obey despite the revulsion twisting in her gut. She flashed a coy smile, her pink lips glistening. “Like, totally, Mikey. Let’s make it super fun,” she chirped. She struggled into the backseat, the leather cool against her barely covered skin, and positioned herself for her client.

Mike grinned with satisfaction as he bound the escort’s wrists behind her back, the thick, smooth nylon rope biting into her skin as he knotted it tightly, pulling her shoulders back to accentuate her enhanced breasts. He moved to her elbows, tying them together with deliberate precision and forcing her chest to thrust forward. “That’s a good girl,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust as he shifted to her legs.

Before continuing, Mike slid Beth’s g-string panties from her, peeling them off her legs before rubbing them against her bound pussy, ensuring the material caught any pre-orgasmic juices. He then bent each of her legs, binding each ankle to her thighs with tight loops, locking her into a forced spread-legged kneeling pose that left her helpless.

Beth’s breath hitched as Mike produced a large, red ball gag; that was new, she thought. As she opened her mouth to speak, he picked up her juice-laden G-string panties and slipped them into her mouth, forcing her to taste her own medicine. Before the blonde could reach, Mike pushed the red ball into her mouth, spreading her bright pink lips wide, and strapping the black band tightly around her head, trapping her g-string inside. “Do you like how you taste, baby?” he grinned as he fastened the buckle behind her head.

Mike’s eyes flashed with sadistic delight as he unbuckled his tailored trousers, his rigid cock spring free, already glistening with anticipation. He pushed the trapped undercover cop on her back, her bound legs spreading wide, before he entered her bare pussy without warning, thrusting furiously inside at the first moment. Beth’s muffled screams vibrated against the red gag, the taste of her own juices mingling with the rubber as she took the pounding her client had initiated.

The man’s thrusts grew relentless, each forceful push rocking Beth’s bound body against the sweaty leather seat. He pulled the cups of her bikini down, freeing the blonde’s enhanced E-cup breasts, and he fondled them possessively as he continued to fuck her.”Fuck, Bambi. How are you always so tight?” Mike groaned, knowing his bondage escort wasn’t able to answer his rhetorical question. Beth’s eyes watered, the gag stifling her screams of pleasure as she fought the urge to gag on her own panties.

Mike’s groans deepened, his hands gripping Beth’s bound hips as he pounded harder, his breath ragged with impending release. “You’re gonna make me cum, Bambi,” he rasped as the blonde closed her eyes, knowing what was approaching. Suddenly, a sharp beep pierced the air, and Mike froze, his face paling as he fumbled for his phone in his jacket pocket, his cock still deep inside the busty undercover cop.

The man’s eyes widened as he glanced at the phone screen, a curse escaping his lips. “Fuck, its my wife,” he muttered, his voice tight with panic as he pulled out abruptly, leaving Beth’s bound body trembling on the leather seat. He scrambled to zip his trousers, the businessman’s hands shaking as he opened the backseat door. “I’m so sorry, Bambi, I gotta get home,” he said, his tone rushed and apologetic as he shoved her out onto the cold concrete floor of the parking lot, her bound form landing with a muffled thud. He tossed three $100 bills out of his window beside her before closing the door. The man rolled down his window. “I’m sorry, baby. I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” he added before rolling his window up and speeding off, the SUV’s tires screeching against the pavement, leaving Beth alone in the pitch-black lot.

Beth writhed on the concrete, her bound wrists and elbows straining against the tight nylon ropes, the red ball muffling her frustrated grunts as she struggled to move. She wriggled on her back, with her bound legs bent, leaving her bare pussy exposed and vulnerable. The taste of her own juices lingered on her tongue; her g-string, trapped by the gag, was a humiliating reminder of her degradation. Three $100 bills lay scattered beside her, their edges fluttering in the faint breeze of the open lot, as her bound hands were unable to clasp them.

A shadow loomed over the busty bound woman, her heart lurching in terror as she tilted her head upwards, her watery blue eyes meeting the tall man’s gaze. Relief and humiliation ran over her as she spotted Warren’s deep grin staring down at her. He stood over her and shook his head wryly, chuckling as his voice dripped with condescension. “You really know how to get yourself into some interesting situations, Bambi.”

Beth’s cheeks burned with humiliation, her muffled protests stifled by the jaw-breaking gag, the taste of her own panties a bitter reminder of her helplessness. Warren knelt beside her and ran a hand along her exposed skin. “Let’s get you out of here, doll,” he said possessively as he scooped her up, slinging her over his shoulder with ease, before picking the three bills from the floor and slipping them into his pants pocket. Her bound legs dangled helplessly, and her bare breasts pressed up against his shoulder.

Warren carried the blonde to his car, parked in the shadows of the nearby garage, and deposited her in the trunk of the vehicle, still bound helplessly. He grinned down at her as her fiery eyes glared back at him. “You’re lucky I’m such a good Daddy, and I keep an eye out for you,” he said. “Who knows where you would have ended up if someone else had found you first?” He laughed before he slammed the trunk shut, leaving the blonde in darkness.

The former detective slid behind the wheel and reversed his car out of the lot, heading back towards Beth’s motel as the busty blonde writhed helplessly in the back.

❖

Three days after her humiliating ordeal with Mike, Beth tottered into a 24-hour pharmacy on the Las Vegas Strip, her body aching from the relentless nights of work that followed. Her red halter top clung to her fake assets, the fabric dipping low to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of cleavage. At the same time, her black hot pants fit snugly against her well-used snatch. The 3-inch wedge heels she wore clicked softly on the polished floor, their modest height a small concession to her sore muscles. The blonde paused for a moment; it wasn’t long ago when the undercover cop saw 3-inch footwear as being three inches too tall. Her platinum blonde hair fell freely over her shoulders, framing a face painted with bold eyeliner and fire-engine red lips, her appearance drawing curious glances from other customers as she navigated the brightly lit aisles in search of painkillers.

Beth’s fingers grazed the shelves, her polished manicured nails tentatively touching the products as she scanned for ibuprofen to dull the persistent ache from her recent encounters. The pharmacy’s sterile air mixed with the undercover cop’s lavender perfume, her provocative outfit making her feel like a neon sign among the mundane shoppers. Despite all of the disgusting acts she had been subjected to, Beth felt most humiliated when she was amongst the general unknowing population.

The blonde clutched a bottle of ibuprofen and began walking toward the checkout when she gasped and paused at the sight before her. Captain Wesley Vance stood there, unmistakable even in civilian attire. His salt and pepper hair gleamed as he studied the use-by date on a bottle of milk, his brow furrowed in concentration. Captain Vance had sent Beth on this mission, and she hadn’t heard from him since, with Warren being her only source of contact. This was her chance to tell the man all about her nightmare and request a change to her conditions, a change of handler, even.

Beth’s heart pounded faster as she tottered closer, her wedge heels clicking with purpose against the white polished floor. She stepped up behind the man and cleared her throat, her glossy red lips parting as she prepared to spill the truth about Warren’s many violations. She tapped her boss on the shoulder and spoke. “Like, hi, sir. I totally need to talk to you. It’s, like, super important,” she chirped, her valley-girl dialect translating the script she had prepared in her mind, prompting her to wince in humiliation.

Vance turned, his broad frame shifting as he faced the woman, his eyes narrowing as they swept over her transformed appearance—platinum blonde curls, exaggerated breasts straining against the red halter top, and tight black hotpants that left little to the imagination. “Hello there, miss. How can I help?” He asked professionally without a trace of recognition that he was staring at his star undercover rookie.

The busty blonde’s heart sank, her mind racing as she tried to force the truth past her conditioning, her glossy lips trembling with effort. “Like, it’s about Daddy. He’s, like, totally messing with me and stuff,” she squealed. She leaned closer, her conditioned response mimicking a woman showing off her assets. “I’m, like, Bella, and I’m totally a whore.” Her eyes widened as she covered her mouth in horror. “No, like, I mean, I know who you are. You’re totally my next sugar daddy.”

The Captain’s eyes hardened, his professional demeanor shifting to stern disapproval as he stepped back. “Excuse me?” He bellowed. “I’m a cop, lady, and I don’t take kindly to being propositioned in public,” he said with a low and authoritative tone, his gaze flicking over her provocative outfit with undisguised contempt.

Beth lowered her head and sighed. Despite her best efforts, her complaints had come out as desperate pleas for business, just as Warren had designed it. “Please, Sir. I really am a whore, and you need to change my Daddy,” she tried one last time, her eyes pleading as she fumbled another failed attempt.

Wesley shook his head, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “You need to get your slutty ass out of here before I call someone in uniform to take you in. Solicitation is illegal in these parts, toots,” he warned, his eyes cold with finality.

Beth dropped the bottle of painkillers as a sob caught in her throat. This was her best chance at altering the terms of her mission, and she failed miserably. It was at that moment that she realized that Warren knew exactly what he was doing. She faintly nodded her head before turning around and hurrying out of the store without making a purchase.

❖

Bethany leaned against a graffiti-streaked wall near her usual pickup corner. The red vinyl mini-dress she’d slipped into wrapped invitingly around her curves, accentuating her enhanced E-cups as if she were advertising them on display. Her 5-inch stiletto sandals, sleek and black, forced her legs into a statuesque pose, but her posture lacked the usual seductive flair as she slouched against the surface. The convention was still going on in town, but Beth’s heart wasn’t in it. She was certain that she was subjecting herself to humiliation after humiliation without any chance of a breakthrough. Her recent encounter with Captain Vance demonstrated to Beth just how helpless and unrecognizable she was.

A sleek silver convertible rolled to a stop at the curb, its engine purring softly under the neon glow of a nearby trashy casino. Beth’s gaze flicked to the driver, a young man with tousled blond hair and a smug grin, his designer sunglasses perched arrogantly on his nose despite the late hour. She had never seen the man before and figured he wasn’t from around here. With a sigh, she parted from the wall and seductively headed towards the vehicle. Bending over at the waist, she flashed him a smile. “Hey, baby. Like, what’s your name? Up for some fun?”

The young man leaned out the window, his tailored blazer open to reveal a fitted white shirt, his grin brash and entitled. “The name’s Hugh, gorgeous,” he said arrogantly as he eyed her vinyl-clad figure. “I’m in town for the convention. How much for a quick blowie?”

The blonde groaned internally. Beth hated these young, arrogant know-it-alls who ran around with Daddy’s money. Nonetheless, she forced her glossy red lips into a coy smile and replied. “Like, fifty bucks, sweetie,” she chirped in her bimbo dialect, eliciting a wider grin from the young man.

Hugh nodded toward the seat. “Hop in, babe,” he said, his tone impatient as he revved the engine lightly. “Let’s make this quick before the boys ask where I’ve headed off to.”

Beth slid into the convertible’s passenger seat, the bespoke leather kissing her bare thighs as the door automatically clicked shit. The arrogant man sped off, weaving through the Strip’s glittering chaos, revving his engine to cause a scene, before he pulled off into a quiet layby and shut the power off. He turned to his hired escort, his sunglasses now pushed up into his messy hair. “Get to work, doll,” he commanded, unbuckling his belt with a swift motion, his rigid cock spring free as he leaned back. “I expect the best in Vegas.”

The undercover cop’s fingers grazed Hugh’s lap playfully, her manicured nails teasing the fabric of his trousers as she rubbed his hardening shaft, her conditioning forcing a sultry professionalism despite her internal disgust and hatred for overconfident soyboys. “Like, if you wanna cum in my mouth, that’s, like, a hundred bucks instead, sweetie,” she purred, her glossy red lips parting as she leaned closer. “Just, like, warn me when you’re close if you don’t wanna pay extra, okay?”

Hugh’s smirk sharpened, his hand resting lightly on her head. “I’m not paying any extra,” he said dismissively, his voice dripping with entitlement. “Just do your job, whore.”

Beth’s stomach churned at the insult, but her practiced conditioning drove her forward, her glossy red lips wrapping around Hugh’s rigit cock with a practiced ease that masked her revulsion. She worked him with steamy precision, her tongue swirling along his shaft, her head bobbing rhythmically as her curls swayed against his lap.

Hugh groaned as he tightened his fingers in her hair, guiding her with forceful thrusts. “Fuck, Bambi, you really are a pro,” he rasped, bucking his hips as her lips slid deeper.

The blonde’s tongue danced along Hugh’s shaft, her conditioned skill making each movement a sultry performance, her brightly colored lips gliding with rhythm that sent shivers through her client. Beth’s blue eyes flicked up, watching for any sign of his impending release, her conditioning compelling her to maintain the steamy act despite the bile rising in her throat.

High’s grip tightened, his hips bucking harder as he enjoyed her suction. “Keep going, slut,” he growled, his voice thick with lust as his cock twitched violently in her mouth.

Beth’s eyes widened, her senses alert for his warning, but on sensing the twitch, she attempted to lift her head up. However, as she pulled up, the arrogant young man slammed her head back down, forcing his cock deep down her throat, pinning her against his lap. The man’s hot release flooded her mouth, the bitter taste overwhelming as he held her in place, forcing her to swallow every drop, her throat working against her will.

When Hugh finally released her, Beth gasped, her glossy red lips smeared with traces of his cum and her blue eyes blazed with fury beneath the bold eyeliner. She wiped her mouth with a trembling hand. “Like, I totally said it’s a hundred if you cum in my mouth, sweetie,” she squealed with indignation.

The arrogant playboy laughed, a cruel edge to his voice as he pulled out a crisp $50 bill from his packed wallet and placed it in her hand. “Go cry to your pimp about it, slut,” he mocked, lowering his sunglasses back over his eyes as he leaned across to open the passenger door. “You’re lucky I paid you at all when I could have got some slut in a club to do it for free.” He shoved Beth out, her stilettos scraping the gravel as she stumbled onto the layby, strands of her platinum curls stuck to her face.

Beth steadied herself on the gravel, sliding her red mini-dress back down her thighs as she brushed dirt from her legs. Her chest heaved with suppressed rage, the $50 bill clutched in her trembling hand. “Urghh!” She cried out in frustration. This was hopeless, she thought. The Toymaker hadn’t made a play for weeks; perhaps he wasn’t even in the City anymore, and she was doing all this for nothing? She shook her head and tottered down the road, heading toward her next humiliation.

❖

The busty blonde undercover cop tottered down the Las Vegas Strip as she headed from where she was previously dumped back towards the airport area. The encounter with Hugh had left her shaken and furious, but she’d freshened her glossy red lips and bold eyeliner and got back to work.

A shadow moved beside her, and Beth turned to find a strikingly handsome man approaching, his chiseled jaw and piercing green eyes sparkled in the neon reflection of the towering casinos. The man’s tailored white suit hugged his lean frame, a crisp white shirt open at the collar revealing a hint of well-traveled tanned skin. He flashed a disarming smile, his confidence radiating an almost magnetic pull. “Hello there,” he said, his voice smooth with a faint southern drawl. “May I have the pleasure of knowing your name? I’m James.”

Beth’s conditioning kicked in, her lips curling into a flirtatious smile despite her exhausted demeanor. “Like, I’m Bambi, sweetie,” she chirped, her glossy lips glistening as she twirled her platinum curls playfully with a giggling flourish.

James’s eyes sparkled with intrigue, his gaze sweeping over the undercover cop’s provocative form. “I don’t think I’ve met anyone so beautiful in my life, Bambi,” he said warmly. “Would you do me the honor of accompanying me for the night?”

Beth’s heart raced as the man’s charisma unsettled her in a way that few clients ever did. She leaned closer, her tight dress straining against her transformed body. “Like, I’m totally not cheap, handsome,” she purred flirtatiously before she playfully bit her lower lip.

His grin widened, as though she had given him the exact answer he was looking for. “Name your price, and name the place, darling,” he said invitingly, his confident demeanor making the blonde’s knees weaken slightly.

The undercover escort flashed a sultry smile, her blue eyes meeting his. “Like, I know a place, sweetie,” she chirped, gesturing towards the airport. “Follow me, and we’ll have, like, a super fun time.” She led him down the Strip, turning down Tropicana Avenue, before they ended up at the Desert Inn.

Beth led James into her moodily lit motel room, the flickering lamp showing signs of poor upkeep and casting jagged shadows across the cluttered space. The tall man closed the door behind him and looked around the room, grinning widely at the slutty attire strewn about the place. He focused his attention on the busty blonde. “Take off that dress, Bambi,” he commanded, “I want to see every inch of you. You can leave the heels on, though.”

Beth’s breath hitched as the man’s confident aura made her pulse quicken, but her conditioning kept her in line and compelled her to obey. She peeled the vinyl dress down her body, swaying her hips provocatively as she revealed her huge, fake E-cup breasts. James’s smile deepened, his eyes lingering with amusement on the woman’s ‘Barbie Cumdump’ tattoo resting just above her bare pussy. “Barbie cumdump,” he murmured, stepping closer, his finger tracing her tattoo. “I wonder where I’m going to dump my cum.”

The blonde’s skin tingled under James’s touch. She forced another coy smile as she stepped back onto the bed, posing invitingly as she spread her legs and puckered her lips, her 5-inch platform heels digging into the old mattress. “Like, wherever you want, handsome,” she purred with forced sweetness as she prepared for another degrading session. Her blonde curls spilled across her pillows, framing her provocative form as she arched her back, thrusting her gravity-defying tits forward.

James knelt between Beth’s thighs, his hands guiding her legs wider as he lowered his mouth, his tongue tracing her folds with a slow, deliberate skill that sent shivers down her spine. Beth gasped sharply, a moan escaping her glossy lips as waves of unexpected pleasure surged. It was rare for a client to spend his time initiating unrequited pleasure on her, and the man’s skill soon sent the blonde’s eyes rolling to the back of her head. “Like, oh my gosh, James. Keep going. That’s, like, totally amazing,” she gasped, her voice a sugary echo of genuine arousal as his tongue pushed her toward the edge of ecstasy.

Just as the undercover escort teetered on the brink of climax, James stopped and rose to his feet. He discarded his well-fitted white jacket and opened the buttons on his shirt to reveal the taut muscles that lay beneath them. He unbuckled his trousers with a practiced motion, his rigid cock spring free, and approached the panting whore.

He entered Beth’s pussy with a forceful thrust, her glistening folds accepting him with ease as the man’s hands gripped her thighs tightly, keeping her legs spread wide for his enjoyment.

Beth’s moans escalated, her silly voice mingling with the raw pleasure of his touch as his relentless rhythm drove her over the edge, a mind-blowing orgasm crashing through the blonde’s body, her manicured nails digging firmly into her own thighs as her vision clouded and intense pleasure shot through every cell in her slutty body.

James’s rhythm grew fiercer, and his hands pinned Beth’s hips to the mattress as he pounded into her, each movement sending another wave of pleasure through her trembling frame. Her glossy lips shot open again as a second orgasm surged, her lilting moans filling the room with a sugary crescendo. “Oh my gosh, James. You’re like, totally incredible,” she gasped, her mind so lost to pleasure that she didn’t care how stupid she sounded. The smooth man’s eyes locked onto her, a predatory glint flashing as he groaned, his own release flooding her used pussy, leaving Beth’s body quaking with aftershocks.

After he’d finished, James collapsed beside Beth, his breath heavy as he reached for his phone on the nightstand, glancing at the time with a casual flick of his wrist. His tanned chest glistened under the motel room’s flickering lamp, his green eyes still carrying that unsettling intensity. Beth’s body buzzed with the afterglow, and she lay exhausted, her legs no longer spread invitingly as James’s cum rested inside her pussy.

The bimbo eventually rose from the bed, her bare curves glistening with sweat as she slipped back into her red vinyl minidress, the glossy fabric hugging her slickened skin.

The man stood, smoothing his white shirt before retrieving his wallet from the inside of his white jacket, his movements deliberate and unhurried. As he pulled out two crisp $100 bills, the wallet slipped from his hand, tumbling to the floor with a soft thud. Beth bent to retrieve the wallet, and she held her breath at the sight of the man’s driver’s license that had slipped out.

Her heart lurched as her eyes locked onto the Texas driver’s license, the Fort Worth address printed in stark black letters. Was this the breakthrough she was looking for? The undercover cop forced a giggle, her bright red lips curling into a playful smile to mask the suspicion surging through her, and handed the license and wallet back to James. “Like, oopsie, you totally dropped this, handsome,” she chirped steadily as she fought to keep her composure, her manicured nails brushing his hand lightly as she returned his possessions.

James took the license and slipped it back into his wallet, his grin unwavering as he nodded his head. “Thanks, darling,” he said, his southern drawl smooth as he slipped the wallet inside his pants pocket. He gently pressed the two $100 bills into the blonde’s palm with a lingering touch. “You were worth every penny, Bambi. Can I get your number so we could do this again?” His voice carried a casual charm, but the intensity in his gaze made Beth’s skin prickle.

Beth’s pulse raced, but she maintained her bimbo act, twirling a platinum curl with a flirty laugh. “Like, you’ll totally see me around, sweetie,” she purred, slipping the two-hundred bucks into her cleavage.

James’s smile sharpened, and he delivered a firm slap to the blonde’s ass, the sound echoing in the small room and eliciting a shocked gasp from the transformed cop. The man turned to leave with a final, “I’ll definitely find you, Bambi,” his drawl tinged with menace that made the woman hold her breath as the door clicked shut behind him. When the door finally closed, the woman dropped onto the bed, allowing herself to breathe.

❖

Late at night, Warren Skinner lounged in his tired leather armchair, the dim glow of a single lamp casting long shadows across the room. He stared out the window peacefully, the Vegas skyline a distant blur of activity through the half-drawn blinds, savoring the sharp burn of strong bourbon whiskey against his tongue. He was topless, his hairy, formerly toned chest out in the open, while his black jeans hung loosely on his sturdy legs. The amber liquid caught the light before the former detective took one final gulp, the warmth spreading through him. He placed the glass on the side table with a soft clink and stood, stretching his arms, ready to head to bed.

The man began ascending the stairs that led to his bedroom when an urgent knock at the door jolted Warren from his reverie, his brow furrowing as he paused mid-step. He turned, trotting back down the stairs as he approached the front door, curiosity tinged with intrigue. He peered through the peephole, and his neutral scowl turned into a playful grin when he identified the visitor.

Warren swung the door open, revealing Beth standing on the threshold, her red dress still clinging to her frame and accentuating the enhanced E-cup breasts that Warren had ‘gifted’ her. Her 5-inch heels accentuated her long legs, and her blonde curls framed a face painted with smeared, glossy red lips. Still, her expression was unusually solemn, lacking the fiery defiance she typically hurled at him. “Well, Bambi, it’s always a pleasure to see you so late at night,” Warren said mockingly, his eyes raking over her provocative form with practiced ease.

Beth instantly reached into her cleavage and pulled out a stack of bills. She handed Warren $450, including the $200 from James, her blue eyes devoid of their usual angry emotion.

Warren’s grin faltered slightly as he took the handed bills, his fingers brushing against Beth’s manicured nails as he tucked the cash into his jeans pocket. He stepped closer, his gray eyes narrowing with a rare flicker of concern. “What’s got you so quiet, Bambi?” he asked, his voice carrying an almost genuine warmth that contrasted with his usual mockery. “What’s wrong?”

Beth’s chest heaved as she stood outside the safehouse, her hair a sweaty mess as it framed her solemn face. She took a deep breath, her glossy lips parting as she met Warren’s gaze, her voice trembling with urgency despite the sugary valley-girl dialect forced by her conditioning. “I think I’ve found him, Daddy,” she chirped, her blue eyes blazing with a mix of fear and determination, the Texas license and James’s southern drawl burning in her mind. She paused, her heart pounding as she forced out the words that carried the weight of her mission. “I totally found the Toymaker!”

End of Chapter Seven