“Right,” I said, rolling my eyes. “There's no prank. You have to do what I say.”“I am,” she said, her voice tight. “I...I... What are yo... doing to me, Ms. Talon?”My anger grew greater. So she wanted to play. “Fine, I can control you. Take off that top, let me see those breasts.”“Ms. Talon,” she gasped, her freckled cheeks going crimson even as her hands moved to the hem of her tank top.I blinked in shock as she actually did it. She lifted her tank top over her head, her large breasts bouncing. Daytimes, that would be the way to avoid a room overnight.The first client was, quite frankly, old. Early fifties, a man in a suit, probably a little pervy. A boss used to giving orders. What would his orders be?His orders nearly made Roma collapse in a fit of giggles. He had hired a useless typist in order to fuck her, because he liked her tits, but she refused to fuck him on his desk. Well, she thought she was a typist. Her name was Jenny. Roma was to be Jenny. She was to take her bosses. More

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