Jasbee knew it was a mistake. Sure, the guy looked respectable--he wore an impeccably tailored suit that looked like it cost ten grand, and whoever cut his sandy blond hair probably charged another two hundred bucks on top of that. He had a genuine Rolex watch, a fancy ring on his finger that looked to be eighteen karat gold, and even the leather satchel sitting next to his expensive shoes probably cost more than Jasbee made in a week. Everything about him reeked of money, especially the stack of literal, actual money sitting on the counter in front of her. Whatever he was here for... and Jasbee knew damn well what he was here for... it wasn't like he was going to rob her.
But the richer a client got, the more entitled they got, and this guy was already acting like he owned the place from the moment he walked in and laid five stacks of crisp, brand-new twenty dollar bills on the table. Jasbee knew how to handle that kind of rich, entitled customer when it came to her usual clientele of pampered trophy wives and spoiled trust fund babies--twenty minutes on the massage table and the endorphin rush usually left them floating on a happy pink cloud of amiable acceptance. But this man didn't come here for a massage. He had an 'unusual request'. Jasbee knew what that meant, even if neither one of them was coming out and saying it.
But that was five hundred dollars. Cash, too; no chargebacks later, no need to report it to the IRS, she could just sweep it into her pocket and take it home with her. And the holidays were coming up, and Jasbee had to buy for three sisters and two brothers and her mom and her dad and her boyfriend and the girlfriend that her boyfriend pretended he didn't know about because he was hoping for a threesome some day. And Mister Anonymous was the first person to walk into Skinz Trinity, the little strip-mall day spa she owned and operated, since she opened this morning. She could take the money up front, put it in the safe, and if he tried to renegotiate, well... she'd decide what to do about that when the time came.
She looked into his piercing, grayish-blue eyes. "Just a facial, right?" she said, trying hard to hide the naked hunger in her voice for the stacks of twenties. "That's it?" She knew it was a mistake, but times were tough. Everybody had to hustle if they wanted to get by.
The man smiled thinly. "That's right. Just a facial treatment. I've even brought my own supplies and equipment, so none of that five hundred dollars will need to go to replenishing your stock." He nudged the large leather satchel with his foot. "Just sixty minutes of your time. That's all I ask."
Jasbee's teeth worried at her lower lip for a long moment, and her hazel eyes betrayed her agonized indecision. But they were looking at that money, and he knew it. He didn't say a word, just waited for her to convince herself that she could talk him out of doing anything else he wanted to do. The silence stretched out for what felt to Jasbee like a small eternity, but it headed to a conclusion that seemed almost predetermined. "Okay," she said at last, scooping the money off the counter and dropping it into the safe.
Then she went up to the front and locked the door, hanging up the 'With a Client - Come Back at' sign after setting the little clock hands to a generous ninety minutes later. She wiped the sweat from her palms on her smock, double-checking to make sure that the privacy blinds were fully closed. Then she walked back to the massage table and lay on her back, closing her eyes and doing her best to relax.
There had to be a catch. Nobody paid five hundred bucks to pamper somebody else for an hour.
Jasbee tightened up a little when she felt his fingers press against her fawn-colored skin, but she managed to resist the urge to visibly flinch. Everything about the sensation was strange and incongruous, though; for someone who spent her day regularly massaging someone else's facial muscles, Jasbee rarely availed herself of the services of an esthetician for her own relaxation. She did the basics for herself every night--cleaning, exfoliation, extraction, and mask--but that was strictly business. Nobody went to have their face done by a woman with visible blackheads, after all. Letting someone else touch her like this, though? The stranger was taking her into uncharted territories in many ways.
He sure seemed like he had a map, though. His long, dexterous fingers pressed firmly but not painfully at the pressure points of Jasbee's cheeks and forehead, forcing the muscles to relax and loosen up with a mix of long and strokes across her face. "That's an interesting name, Jasbee," he said conversationally as he worked, his voice mild and pleasant in her ears. "I don't think I've ever heard it before, Miss Wong. Is there a story behind it?"
Jasbee chuckled. "Not much of one. My mother always liked the name Jasmine, but my father thought that it would make me sound too 'exotic', make it hard to blend in. He wanted to call me 'Beatrice'. They argued for nine months, and 'Jasbee' was the compromise. Worst of both worlds, if you ask me." She thought about asking the stranger's name in return, but she suspected he would simply deflect any inquiry. He probably had a wife or something who might get upset if she found out that he was paying five hundred bucks to massage the faces of strange women, and he didn't want Jasbee finding out about her. Rich people had weird kinks like that. She remembered one woman who kept asking if Jasbee offered ashiatsu, even offered to pay for the training....
Her mind was wandering a little, Jasbee realized. The stranger's fingers felt so nice, and the constant transitions between light, gentle touch and deep massaging pressure were raising a ton of endorphins. It was a natural high, half the reason people kept coming back for another spa treatment even if they didn't know it, and it was making her a little light-headed. God, no wonder it was so easy to talk people into a full package if they felt like this. Jasbee let out a sigh, exhaling tension she didn't even know she was holding inside herself.
When she breathed in again, Jasbee inhaled a complex aroma of floral scents. Her trained nose picked out lavender and chamomile, along with jasmine and sandalwood and something that might have been frankincense. "I hope you don't mind," the man said, "but I thought we might do a little aromatherapy during your facial. I brushed just a bit under your nose, I can wipe it off if you'd prefer." Even as he spoke, though, the stranger's fingers rubbed away stress and tension until the very notion of concerning herself about a frankly lovely blend of perfumes seemed downright absurd.
Jasbee thought about shaking her head in dismissal, but her muscles felt so relaxed that she didn't want to move. "Nah, s'fine," she mumbled loosely, almost impressed by how slack her jaw had become. Whoever this man was, he could have made a living as a masseur if he wasn't doing whatever he did to become ludicrously rich. She wouldn't mind indulging him regularly if he wanted to make this a weekly thing. Or a daily thing, for that matter. God, her fucking lovers didn't touch her like this.
She wasn't sure how long it was before he spoke again; the silence and the constant, sensual warmth of the stranger's fingers lent the whole event a timeless quality. When he finally did speak, it was in a low, soothing voice that didn't disturb Jasbee's sense of tranquility at all. "Your skin is amazing, by the way," he said, moving his hands away for a moment. "There's barely any extraction to do, just a tiny little spot on your neck that needs treatment. Hold on." She heard him rummaging around in his bag for a moment. "There we go. Everything we need to cleanse, exfoliate, and get rid of that pesky little bump."
His hands returned to her face, this time working a salt scrub into her pores. It was abrasive, but the endorphins he'd already raised left her so blissed out that even the harsh scraping sensation became pleasurable in its own intense way, and soon the exfoliation began to raise endorphins all its own. Jasbee let out another deep sigh, relaxing bonelessly onto the massage table. She could get used to being pampered like this, even if it was just for an hour or two. By the time he gently cleaned off her face, Jasbee felt like she couldn't even open her eyes if she tried.
And the extraction didn't hurt a bit, despite his warning. "It's a fairly deep one," he said, sounding distracted by concentration. "I'm just going to need to use a lancet, here...." It didn't feel like a lancet, though. The needle was almost hair-thin, almost unnoticeable even without the lovely high of natural painkillers keeping Jasbee relaxed and floaty. He pulled it back out within seconds and murmured, "There we go. How does that feel?"
Jasbee let out another sigh, exhaling stress and tension until she felt almost deflated. "S'nice," she mumbled again, her jaw even looser now. Every muscle on her face had relaxed into limp, lazy immobility. "S's, um... nice." That probably sounded dumb, but Jasbee didn't care. She just wanted to lie back and enjoy this feeling for a while. God, she was probably going to take a nap after this guy left before she opened back up again.
"Good, good. And just a little mask, here." The stranger brushed on a sticky, wet concoction that smelled like lavender and honey, with just a hint of rose sweetening the mixture further. "I made this myself from a base of fresh yogurt, with some egg whites for stability and buckwheat honey for its antibacterial qualities. There's also some therapeutic herbs in there. It'll do wonders for your skin and your peace of mind." God, he was so fucking incredible at this. His voice was so soft and comforting, almost lulling Jasbee into a trance with every word. She wondered absently if she could convince him to do this for some of her clients.
She had almost drifted completely into a blissful little daydream of pocketing five hundred bucks on top of whatever her customers paid her without having to do any work when the stranger's words caught her off-guard. "Now that's going to have to stay on for at least twenty minutes," he said, "so I thought we could pass the time with a mani/pedi. You've got such lovely nails already that I'll barely need to do a thing, but I have some lovely iridescent polish that would look gorgeous on you. Doesn't that sound nice, darling?"
Jasbee's eyes fluttered open, struggling to focus on the stranger as he stood over her. She recognized that he was shifting the boundaries of their agreement, trying to convince her to do something more than what he'd originally offered, but her groggy mind found it surprisingly difficult to come up with a response. She felt almost drugged with pleasure, and every breath seemed to inhale another wave of sleepy relaxation along with the lavender scent in her nostrils. "Um. I. Uh?" she mumbled, trying to put her vague, inchoate misgivings into words.
The man wordlessly pulled out his wallet and took two more stacks of twenty dollar bills. He turned and set them on the counter. "Okay," Jasbee murmured tonelessly, letting her eyelids slip shut again. She let herself go limp. There was nothing else to do at the moment.
"There we go," the stranger cooed softly to her, taking her hand in his own and beginning to brush her fingernails with gentle pressure. Jasbee only hoped he was as good at painting nails as he was at everything else he did; she typically spent the better part of an hour on her nails every Sunday night, with daily touch-ups as needed, and the thought of having to clean off all her hard work with harsh chemicals because she let some anonymous rich dude fuck it all up didn't appeal. But two hundred bucks paid for a lot of acetone. And besides... fuck it. Jasbee was too relaxed to care.
And to notice the time. Before she knew it, the stranger was washing her face clean and holding Jasbee's hand in front of her mazy, unfocused eyes. "How does that look?" he asked, turning her wrist from side to side to show off the swirling, captivating iridescence of the new polish. "Isn't that so pretty? Don't you just want to keep looking at that forever?" Jasbee let out a tiny grunt of affirmation. Everything else seemed too much like effort right now.
"Just a nice herbal wrap and a massage, and I think we'll be all done," he purred, reaching into his pocket with his free hand and pulling out another three stacks of twenties. "You'll feel all pampered and relaxed and happy, and you'll enjoy the rest of your day so much. It'll be so nice to float along on a warm, peaceful cloud of dreamy, drowsy bliss until you fall asleep in your soft, comfy bed, Jasbee, until you drift down into deep, heavy slumber at the end of such a long, tiring, exhausting day of hard work. Don't you want that, sweetie? Don't you want to feel so good and sleep so deep for me?"
There was something odd about his words, about his tone, about everything that was happening, but Jasbee... she couldn't make her mind focus properly. It wasn't just endorphins, she realized. She felt groggy, confused, unable to concentrate on anything for any real length of time. Her thoughts momentarily flitted back to the brief touch of the needle, but she couldn't connect it all together into a chain of reasoning. Her eyes locked onto the swirling, iridescent pattern on her own nails instead, simply staring in rapt fascination until she forgot what she was trying to remember.
"You want to feel good and sleep deep, pretty girl," the stranger intoned, his voice firm and commanding. Jasbee heard herself mumble in agreement with his words.
"It's interesting, isn't it?" he said conversationally as he undressed her, then laid her back down onto her stomach on the massage table. "How easily pleasure and relaxation can shift those boundaries we thought were so firm and unyielding? My wife is much the same way. She's normally very good about sticking to the rules we've agreed on, but sometimes, well... she lets that warm, drowsy, happy feeling get to her and she goes a little farther than she intended to." He put on a pair of latex gloves and began to massage oil into Jasbee's flesh, a golden, herbal-scented oil that made her fawn skin glow and tingle with sensual heat.
Once her back had been completely oiled up, the stranger helped Jasbee roll over onto a plastic sheet he placed onto the massage table. She sighed in sleepy pleasure as he worked the oil into her thighs and belly before slowly, languidly rubbing it into her heavy breasts. "Now, I don't want you to think that this is all about money," he added, pinching and tugging Jasbee's nipples until she felt a surge of deep, dreamy heat between her thighs. "You might have guessed that we're... oh, let's say comfortable and leave it at that. But you don't get to be well-off without learning how to stick to a budget. And rules are rules, aren't they, pretty girl?" Jasbee let out another mumble of affirmation. It seemed easier just to agree with everything now.
His fingers kept working at the soft, sensitive flesh of Jasbee's breasts until her eyes slipped shut again, leaving her floating on a warm pink cloud of mindless bliss. Her whole body felt almost incandescent with pleasure, and she experienced a brief and surreal distortion of her kinesthetic sense that made her breasts seem to grow larger with every confident stroke and squeeze. He tugged on her nipples, working them in a smooth, easy rhythm that made Jasbee whimper with pleasure. She could almost picture her willpower flowing out of the long, stiff teats like so much milk. It made it almost impossible to concentrate on the stranger's words, even as she recognized the importance they were taking on.
"So when I gave her a budget of two hundred dollars--a budget I thought was entirely reasonable--for her weekly spa treatments," he said, his voice deceptively calm, "and she came back having spent over twice that, well... I felt like we had to dig into that a little. You understand, right?" He wrapped the sheet around Jasbee again and again, helping her roll over until she was practically mummified by the plastic. She could barely wriggle, even with the oil making her body all slick and slippery, but it didn't matter. She felt too sleepy to move anyway. "I relaxed her a little... a lot like you are right now, in fact... and asked her what happened."
His hands began to knead her muscles through the thin plastic sheeting, working out tension as fast as it built up from listening to his story. "It seems that the woman she went to for her spa treatment... oh, how did my wife put it? Ah yes. 'Seduced her'. Not in a sexual sense, you understand, but she lulled my wife into a state of deep relaxation and pleasure with her touch until the poor dear was absolutely insensate with bliss, and then persuaded her into purchasing a host of additional services not covered by the budget. I'm sure you can imagine what that feels like." Jasbee's drowsy mind tried to sound a warning, but it was drowned out by the waves of ecstasy flowing from the stranger's touch. Her pendulous breasts pressed into the massage table, so impossibly sensitive that they felt like they grew in size with every tiny movement she made.
"And a two hundred dollar massage became a four hundred dollar full spa treatment package, complete with a hundred dollar tip for the woman's excellent service. Five hundred dollars on my poor, darling wife's credit card that she had to explain to me. Again, it's not that we couldn't afford it, but my sweet girl never breaks the rules. She's too well-trained for that." His hands worked lower and lower down, kneading and caressing Jasbee's gluteal muscles until she felt too impossibly relaxed even to move. She heard the sound of plastic tearing, but her drowsy, vacant mind couldn't connect it to anything.
Then the air filled with a loud buzzing sound, and a powerful vibration melted the last little bit of tension out of her back muscles. "But this woman... this esthetician, isn't that the word? It seemed like she had a natural knack for lowering people's defenses. A talent for persuasion and flirtation and, yes, seduction that must have been quite, quite effective to work its way through my wife's conditioning and convince her to do something I explicitly forbade her from doing. Someone who could induce that kind of, of--oh, let's just call it what it is. That kind of mesmeric state." He slowly moved the massaging wand lower and lower down Jasbee's body until it was pounding her ass with wave after wave of sensation. "That would be a person very worth knowing. On the right terms."
He moved the vibrator even lower, sliding it through a hole in the plastic sheeting that Jasbee didn't even know was there and tucking it snugly between her thighs. It pressed against her pussy lips, transmitting pulse after throbbing, pounding pulse directly into Jasbee's clit until she found that she remembered how to wriggle after all. But her body was trapped by the tight, constricting material. She couldn't really move. She could only surrender to the waves of intense, drifting bliss that broke up her drugged thoughts into tiny fragments.
"I think you can imagine who I'm talking about, pretty girl," the man murmured, removing his gloves and stroking Jasbee's long dark hair. "And I think you can imagine the terms we're discussing. I have an opening on my staff for a masseuse--not for myself, you understand, but for my wife and my friends and anyone else who might need a bit of relaxation. We can even work together, assuming your client is amenable." Jasbee suspected that wouldn't be a problem.
The buzz went away, but it was almost immediately replaced by something warm and thick and potently male sliding into her wet pussy. She'd somehow imagined that something about the transition from unusual business arrangements to actually being fucked by her client would stir her out of her lethargy, but Jasbee soon found that the void of bliss inside her head was large enough to swallow any reservations she might have felt. She needed to be fucked so bad. And it turned out that finding exactly the right entry angle to make her clit throb with ecstasy was just another one of her client's talents.
The pleasure between her legs grew and grew until Jasbee's cunt dripped off the stranger's shaft and onto the plastic sheet. She struggled to open her eyes, to focus her thoughts, anything to keep herself from being dragged down by the gravitational pull of the stranger's persuasion, but it was no good. Every time she thought she had a chance at coming back to herself, he pounded her pussy with another driving roll of his hips and her breath went out in a whoosh, taking the contents of her brain along with it. Her mind felt loose and drowsy and compliant, and all she wanted to do was go along with the flow of his events and nod helplessly to everything he said. "Naturally, there would be certain rules to follow, but I think we can come to an agreement, don't you?" Jasbee twitched and moaned. It was the closest she could come to words now.
"Of course we can," the man said, speeding up the pace of his fucking until Jasbee's eyes rolled back in her head behind her closed eyelids. His smooth, even tones didn't change a bit, despite the urgency she felt every time he drove his cock into her; it was as though he had taken all of Jasbee's self-control into his own body, leaving her a whimpering, leaking mess while he easily and effortlessly took posession of her will and volition. Her every muscle wanted to tense up in screaming ecstasy, but she was so relaxed and drowsy that all she could do was lie there in limp, insensate pleasure and drool onto the massage table. "I think we'll begin discussing that shortly, just as soon as we come to an agreement about the broad thrust. Would you be interested in a full-time, live-in position, my dear? A... permanent arrangement in our household?"
Jasbee didn't really believe she would wind up in just one position before the stranger was finished with her, and there was only one kind of thrust she thought he'd be interested in. But she couldn't bring herself to care, not anymore. The hot, driving pleasure felt so good against her clit every time his cock rubbed against it, and all she could think about now was prolonging that warm, wonderful feeling between her thighs. "Uh, uh, uh huh," she whimpered, and the last thing her conscious self retained before her mind simply dissolved into ecstasy was a deep, massive orgasm that melted her thoughts into blissful obedience to her new Master.