Head Mistress In Charge

Reena runs the top outfit that caters only to women hungry for company. Before any fresh blood gets the nod, she has to know those tongues are worth what they promise. The test is a kiss. Hard. Wet. She presses mouths to mouths and checks if they flinch. Most don’t. They’ve trained hard for this. When the kiss stops, she tells them to strip. She watches, critical, as clothes hit the floor, bodies stand bare. Reena circles. Smells them. Sucks a nipple. Slips a finger between soaked folds. She laps their heat until thighs shake and she knows exactly who’ll melt first. When she has the measure of them, she pushes the winner into a sweaty circle of hands and mouths. One girl straddles a customer, another kneels behind, the third tongues Reena herself while the night grows sticky and loud. For the girls who survive, the tables are never empty. For the ones who crack—easy choice. They disappear into the sheets and the sultry lights like smoke.