Gypsy Archives - Seductive Gypsy

Gypsy found herself lost in her own fantasies

Mon, 13 Nov 2023 14:56:17 +0000

As a writer I live in a world so dark that sometimes my mind scares even me. It’s not that I wish for things to happen, but that my mind plays them over and over in my head. Below is a dream that work me in the night, forcing me to scream out in orgasmic bliss. That happens when the sickness takes over. All of this is ONLY a writers fantasy.

The shrill of the phone sent her into a little panic. It was the work line and Gypsy knew there was a man who had been exchanging letters and texts with her for a while. He was very well off, and a lover of pain. She too was someone who likes the addition of some pain in her life. In this line of work, there can be no physical marks unless paid for. Each mark will cost the consumer for their presence on her body. He mentioned he wanted to spend in the 10 grand range and each one would be 500 dollars in her bank account. When the girls agreed to this, they would make the full amount, not the company. She knew full well the extent of the oncoming abuse.

In her hand was the paper that described the client. He was mid 40’s, unmarried, and a CEO of a major brokerage company in New York. He was well-groomed, attractive, std free, and yet he liked escorts. There had to be a reason why, but as long as he paid, Gypsy didn’t care. He could have a micro-penis and she could have cared less. This was not about sex for her. She worked for financial security. Her red shoe client paid her lease and for her car, and the rest paid for by monies earned through Men like this. Not a respectable career choice, but one she loved.

Standing in front of the building, it was intimidating in stature. When she looked it up online, the numbers showed that there were 112 floors. There were also 4 elevators, 3 restaurants, and a penthouse at the top that belonged to the Man. The one she was going to meet. The attendant showed her to the floor. He told her to go into the apartment and follow the instructions on the table in the foyer. Smiling, she thanked him with a 20 and he was gone. Sure she didn’t have to do that, but she knew what it was like to work check to check. Of course, that was not her life now, but it once was.

“Gypsy, you are to undress where you are. Everything folded neat and tidy. Place them in the basket to the right of you.” Looking over, she saw the one he spoke of and proceeded to do as told. This was not the normal “date” for her. She was going to play that fifty shades shit and be his submissive. Fantasy is fun, unless it’s like the movie where the Dominate only stole a girl’s virginity. That was the entire plot of the movie. He spanked her once, took her cherry, and bam, they fell in love. That is not the way it works in the real BDSM world.

Unclothed and looking to the next item, Gypsy followed and found herself down the hall to the right. It was a dark room, no, not red, but dark in its own right. Next, someone told her to lie on the bench on her stomach. Then, she should put her hands in the holes in the floor and hold onto the thin metal bars. Under no circumstances was she to release her grip until instructed to. Gypsy followed the orders, noting the coldness of the cylinder bar. That was her mind playing tricks on her, but it felt ice cold. Sometimes you feel things that are not there because the mind is a devil. It will lead you down a path of destruction if you give in to temptation.

“Gypsy! For the next 8 hours, I own you. You’re to rest when I say you need it. You’re allowed to use the restroom when I say you need to relieve yourself. Not before. Self-control is the key here. Use it.”

A few deep breaths she felt his hand on my ass. Caressing the soft skin of her round buttocks, his hands were as smooth as a baby’s bottom. He didn’t do manual labor. His hand proved that. Closing her eyes, it was a sensual movement by him, one that would very soon come to an end for the young girl.

The first slap was a shock. She felt the removal of his hand, but the placement forced her to scream. Her body arched; her puffy lips were the target. A slap so hard that her breath’s lost, she cried out in sheer blissful pain. The immediate reaction forced her lips to swell, her lower ones. Though she couldn’t see the mark, she could feel the outline of each digit on her perfect flesh. It would bruise. That she was sure of. Gripping the handles, her knuckles were turning white. A second slap landing on her right cheek, his hand gripping the flesh instead of a quick withdraw. He pressed his fingertips into her skin, leaving marks that would turn purple later. Each time he struck her, there were no words spoken. No instructions. A small grunt of relief from this Man whose face she had not even seen.

Soft music flowed through the sound system. He moved across the room, the sounds of a drawer opening, his presence once again next to Gypsy. He was getting a condom and going to finish, but no. Blinding pain, screams for mercy, and the trickles of warmth running down her backside. She didn’t know the weapon of choice, but it was horrific and intoxicating at the same time. How could something so bad, be so good at the same time. Forcing his hand to her mouth, he forced her own panties in her mouth, taping them to muffle her cries. During this all, she could have stopped it. Her hands were not bound by anything other than her own self-control. She held steadfast and in place. It was his fantasy, but she was the one who was finding true pleasure.

“Do not move. My maid will come and wash you so not to soil my floor!”

He was not done. He bought 8 hours with Gypsy. This man was paying per bruise. 5 grand in, she would reach 10 before done with her.

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Phone Sex Etiquette You Need To Know

Tue, 03 Oct 2023 13:29:56 +0000

A hard dick is no excuse to being rude during a phone sex call. Paid or unpaid, the person on the other end of the phone is a human just like you. Please understand that if you want something that includes being vulgar, raunchy, or even mean, tell the person ahead of time so you get what you pay for.

Blocking

People would be shocked at how many times I have been blocked by a caller because I was either sleeping, or on another call. I don’t understand why this is done. Are we not grown ups who understand that just because we want something that there are situations that sometimes are out of our control. I’ve had many phone sex callers block me only to come back and tell me it was because I didn’t give them instant gratification. Here’s a warning for all. Blocking me for something I can’t control will get you one right back. There will be no coming back from rudeness.

Fantasies/Fetishes

Please try to understand that everyone is different. Just because something is your fantasy doesn’t mean that it is mine. I try to give the other person everything, and yes, I mean everything they want, but sometimes I can’t. I’ll tell you ahead if something is impossible so I don’t waste your time or money. I want this phone sex experience to be the best you’ve ever had, so please tell me ahead what you want. My crystal ball doesn’t work for everyone.

New Accounts

If you and I have had issues in the past, please don’t come to me on a new account. Believe me, I will always know it’s you. I am a very good judge when someone is playing me.

Feedback

Every person has a right to an opinion of someone else, but come on. Tell me of I haven’t pleased you privately. I recently had my first bad feeback and to be honest, it hurt. Not because of the actual feedback, but the reason behind it. There is some things that I can’t speak about due to it being out of my control. Please read the Niteflirt TOS before you punish me for things I can’t change. Please respect me as I have respected you.

Mind reading

I feel that I can usually take a call in the direction the caller wants, but I am not a mind reader. Help me out and give me a little something to work on. Again, I want this to be the best phone sex you’ve ever experienced.

Thank you for attending my phone sex TED talk. Now let’s have some fun.

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Halloween and the legend of witches

Mon, 02 Oct 2023 11:52:11 +0000

This is just a little creative writing to set off the month of October. (RatedPG)

Do witches exist? Some say yes, and others are too scared to admit that they know the truth. Yes, they do exist, but not in the way most people think. They don’t ride brooms and steal children out of their homes. This little story will take you back to the days when they burned anyone for being different. I don’t condone this, but I understand what mass hysteria can do after living through this pandemic.

Screams through the night as the fog filled the cobblestone grounds with a blanket of doom. Doors slammed shut, the lights turned down low, the night was always the most feared time of day. For the past week, four women had gone missing from their beds. Not a trace of their existence left behind. It was as they never were. Husbands without a wife, children without a mother, and yet, not one ever saw anything. Whispers in the air were that a witch was responsible. She was building a coven, and the local women were recruited to do the work of Satan. Well, that’s what the men of this missing girls forced themselves to believe.

“BROOKE,” he screamed.

The husband of a local housewife gone missing hours earlier. This week, his wife, the 5th woman, vanish, her clothing, phone, and wedding ring left behind. Every husband refused to believe that these tortured housewives would give up a dream and walk out on them. It had to be the work of witches being this close to Halloween.

The newspapers, airways, and even word of mouth fell silent as the days went by, but when the kidnapping stopped, they all breathed a sigh of relief. No more wives missing, nor children orphaned, but what happened to the women of that small Midwestern town?

In a small clearing in the woods, the truth would come out. These women all left on their own accord, all of them tired of the men who trained them to be the perfect wife. They cooked, cleaned, and submitted to sex that they hated. Why? Because that’s what society says a good wife does. She is subservient to her husband and children. All were giving up their identity the day a ring on their finger castrated their hopes and dreams. If she spoke, she was irrational, crazed, or god forbid, she was a witch. Yes, that’s what happened. The Devil was now inside of her, and the only way to rid the world of free-thinking women was to stone or burn them alive. If they silenced their tongues, the others would fear speaking out against society’s norm on women.

“You are all charged with witchcraft!” said the judge.

“Guilty of having a mind of your own, using your tongue to teach other women your acts of disobedience. I sentence you all to death by burning,” he added, his lips curling to the smirk of the Devil.

As they tied them to the stakes, brush placed under their feet. A husband holding a torch stood in front of his wife, begging her to give up her voice.

As smug as he was, she used the last words of her life to bring down the misogynistic men who held them in silence.

“Burn us, but you will never take away our minds. We are as human as you are, and though we might not look as you do, we carry the power behind us that will take down a country. You’ve asked us to give up our names on our wedding day, our right to make the same wage as a man, and now, our voice. I would rather die for my sisters than lie to the man who entrapped me. So if you feel the need to keep women quiet, burn us, because if you don’t, one day, I will show the world that without women, you are nothing.”

The fire burned, the soot filling the air from the flesh of the women who refused to allow their tongues to be silenced. Stand up for what you believe in and never allow the world to tell you that you are unimportant. They may burn one of us, but they won’t take us all.

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Gypsy gave it all for the right reasons

Sat, 26 Aug 2023 14:27:16 +0000

Note:

In one of my books I write about a girl named Gypsy. Ironic right. It is a mafia based book and this is a piece from the next book. All the names are fiction except one. I thought I would share this piece. Just know, there is graphic sexual content and violence.

“Oh god, what did I do?” she screamed.

Sitting in the middle of the old warehouse, that was the last place on earth that Gypsy thought she would be. A date, yes, the night started with a date with a client. The first one in over a year. She knew this is what she needed to drive the thoughts of that man from her head. She would kill him off with the sins of the flesh, knowing he would never touch her again if she carried the scent of another in her veins. It was insanity that drove her back to Dave. Back to the man who started her in the business at 17 years old. The same man who gave her a fake ID and told her never to reveal her real age to anyone. Not even the client. He was disgusting, but he got her off the streets into a warm bed. Gypsy was finally away from her father and all his sickness, but was this any better? She was taking money from the same people that snuck in her nightmares and scraped the dignity from her soul.

“I have a request for you,” Dave said. He tossed that out before even saying hello to the young girl. He knew she was out of the business and raising her daughter away from the danger that seemed to follow her everywhere.

“Fuck you. I told you, fat ass, don’t call me again. I’m retired,” Gypsy growled into the phone. The last time she contacted Dave, she bought the office building he was renting and converted it to a hostel for teens. He should know better than to fuck with someone who held in her hand a black book that could destroy the character of most of Hollywood. Some of the secrets she vaulted were as dangerous as having a loaded gun to her head.

“Fifty grand. Please do what you want with it. The client is offering big money just for a couple of hours of your time. Come on, Mary, do this for me. I need the cash,” Dave begged. He used her legal name. Something was up because he had never called her that in the past. That sent her spidey senses into overdrive. What if Frank Paloma was reaching out from beyond the grave? God, that fear was itching at her soul right now.

“Alright. When and where. I am not letting anyone come to my home. Fax me over a location, dress requested, and a time. Just remember, this is the last time I do this, Dave. I don’t want to be a part of your bullshit business anymore, and before the date, I want the wire transfer into my account. All of it, not just the normal retainer fee,” she said. She would regret this later, but right now, the money would be an excellent donation to Children of the Night. What a fucking hypocrite she was. She was giving flesh money to a charity fighting to get kids off the street and away from this kind of abuse.

The sound of the fax machine sent chills up and down her spine. She hadn’t heard that particular nonsense in a year. Thankfully she had a live-in Nanny for her daughter so that Grace would be fine. Gypsy trusted none, but the Nanny seemed to be decent enough.

Dinner was the plan according to the sheet. She would wear a black dress, stockings, and he requested 4-inch heels. That added to her 5ft 10-inch stature would make her over 6 ft tall. She hoped that this man was a giant or she would tower over him. Thankfully, she already has a closet filled with clothing from her escort days that would suffice his needs.

“Gracie girl, Mommy will be home soon. Be a good girl for the Nanny,” Gypsy smiled. Leaning down and kissing the top of her daughter’s head, it was bittersweet. She was betraying the promise she made to herself never to fall victim to a man again. Thankfully Grace would never know this part of her mother’s life. She would make sure that this time was the last. After tonight, Gypsy would block Dave’s number and never allow that pig back into her life.

Two hours later, pulling up to the hotel destination, her heartbeat so loud in her chest that she thought it would burst her eardrums. The loud banging on the door brought her back to reality. A young boy, well, he was probably older than she, banged on the window of her Porsche waiting for the keys. It was the Valet, and he was only doing his job, but she hated him at that moment. He was as much the enemy as the man she was meeting.

“Don’t scratch it, and don’t steal the change out of the ashtray. Seriously, don’t fuck with my car,” Gypsy said. As she dropped the keys into the boy’s hand, she felt eyes on her. Were they the kids? Or someone else? Strutting into the hotel as she owned it, her dress clung to her body like a second skin, and those heels. She loved those heels—4-inch spike stilettos with a diamond-encrusted toe that oozed money and class. Every man wanted her, and every woman hated her. She was the kind of woman that would smile to your face and laugh the moment you walked by when she was working.

“Miss Kennedy, it’s been so long. Are you here to meet someone?” Franco asked. She met Franco a year ago when she was meeting Frank for one of their dates. He helped her to her car after and made sure no one saw her on the way out. That night Frank was in one of his violent moods. She ended up with two broken ribs, a busted lip, and internal bruises that took months to heal. The twenty grand she made wasn’t worth the suffering she endured.

“It’s been far too long,” she smiled, leaning in to hug him. “I am meeting a client at the restaurant. Do you know who it is?” she asked.

Franco shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head, “No, Miss Kennedy, I haven’t heard of anyone waiting for you.” Franco was lying through his veneer teeth, but that was his job. He handled the guests even if they were the bottom feeders of the earth.

Sighing, she released the hug, thanking him, and walking off to the exclusive eatery located in the hotel. There was one for the public, and then there was this one. Stepping into the place, the first thing she noticed was it was empty. There was not another diner except for the man in the corner waiting for Gypsy to arrive. The closer she was, the more she dreaded this. Whoever he was, he knew enough about her to pay 50 grand for a few hours of her time. That meant it was serious.

As the man stood, he pulled the chair out for Gypsy, his eyes on her, but there was no hunger behind them. It took her a minute to think, but she knew who this was. God, she knew who he was and the damage he could do to her.

“Rocco Lucchese, it’s been far too long. What do I owe the pleasure of your company?” she asked. Gypsy’s heart was racing a million beats a minute. She had not seen this man since the night of the hit in Vegas. The same night she sat at a poker game watching six men play and found herself carried out covered in brain matter and blood. The man next to her lost his life, and the rest kept the game going as though it was second nature to them all. Maybe in their world, it was, but not in hers.

Rocco grabbed the wine bottle, removing the cork himself, before pouring both of them a glass of expensive red wine. Gypsy learned long ago that a man of his caliber never has a bottle corked for him. One reason for that is drugging. The other is that a man does certain things for himself. “I think you will find this to your liking,” Rocco said as he lifted the glass, taking the first drink. That was her cue to do the same. In families, the man’s taken care of before the woman. Gypsy never questioned mafia life. She kept her mouth shut about it.

As she leaned back in the chair, her leg crossed over the other as her toes clutched to keep her shoe on her foot. “I don’t mean this offensive, Rocco, but why are we meeting? Frank is gone, I’ve sworn not to speak, so why?” she asked.

A slight chuckle from the man across the table from her as Gypsy spoke. He was amused at her brazed question. “Well, Miss Kennedy, you know too much. You’re a liability, and I am sure you understand the concern that I have about one day talking in your sleep?” he said. With his hand wrapped around the crystal goblet, Rocco took a deep breath before speaking. “There is a gun pointed at you under the table. You will slowly rise and walk to the door. Outside, a limo is waiting for us both. We need to take this conversation to a private location,” Rocco said.

Gypsy knew it. Dave set her up, knowing that this was going to be the takedown he wanted. She stole his business, so he’s going to steal her life—fair trade in the world of an escort. Raising, Gypsy did as told. On the way out, she thanked Franco once again, but this time there was sarcasm in her voice. He had to know that something was going to happen—another victim to the downfall of society.

Twenty minutes later, after a long silent drive, they arrived at the same pier where Frank met his end. Before she could question the destination, the door opened, and Rocco pushed her from the car. Those 4-inch heels were suddenly a regret. “Fuck, do you need to be so rough? I’m a god damn female,” she spat.

Holding the door on the way out of the limousine, Rocco laughed. “You’re a whore. Let’s face it, Miss Kennedy, you’re bought and paid, so whatever I say or do, is acceptable,” he added. “Let’s go inside where it’s warm. Not the warm that Frank met, but out of the chill of the night air,” Rocco said.

Exhaling slow, she walked ahead, pulling the old rusted handle of the warehouse door open before entering. It was dark, dank, and wet. Also, the smell of fish burned her nose. “God damn, could you have picked a better place? I can’t stand the scent of rotting fish,” she growled, her words sharp and to the point—a few more steps in, and her shoes ruined from the collection of water on the floor. The last time Gypsy lost a pair of shoes, Gypsy had slit her wrists and prepared to die. This time, she knew she was going to visit the other side for an extended stay.

“Take the clothes off, everything. I might as well get off first. Plus, I did pay for it,” Rocco smirked, licking his lips as he watched the tall blond. Standing, he rubbed his dick through his pants, almost salivating from the view. Frank was the only one in the group to fuck her, and the stories he told had his dick throbbing.

“Are you serious? I thought you had more respect for your wife than to fuck another woman?” Gypsy said. She was trying to buy a little time but knew in her heart that shit wasn’t going to fly this time. These men could care less about who they sink their dick into. One hole was as good as another.

“Whatever,” she said. Reaching down, she pulled the dress up from the hem, yanking it off over her head. The only thing she had on was a pair of black silk panties that left nothing to the imagination. She would have worn something less revealing if she knew this is what they would find the body wearing. She could only hope that Grace never looked the cause of her mother’s death when she got older.

“Those too!” Rocco pointed to the panties.

As Gypsy slipped them off, she took the small pocket knife from the silk, knowing this was her only hope of living. She wouldn’t leave this earth without a fight. Rocco should understand that by the demise of Frank Paloma.

With the use of one finger, she’s beckoned forward, pushed to her knees the moment she came within a foot of Rocco. As the bile built in her stomach, she rested in a puddle of sludge. God knows what kind of bacteria grew in that filth.

“Take my dick out and open your mouth,” Rocco grunted. He didn’t ask, he demanded, but then again, he did pay fifty grand for tonight.

With a curl of her lips, Gypsy looked up as her fingers shook. Pulling his zipper down to release his manhood, he was smaller than most but still sprung to life when removed from the confines. “Wow, impressive,” she lied. God, she loved to build a man up only to take him down minutes later. With her mouth opened wide, she swallowed him down, making him lose all thoughts. She gave stroke into her mouth before she slowly inched her hand up his thigh, placing the blade on the side of his dick. The moment she pulled back, the head locked in her teeth, Gypsy ran the knife across the base. Shaking her head from side to side, she fell back due to the slippery ground, his cock coming with her.

“You ripped my dick off,” Rocco screamed.

As she looked up, pulling the member from her mouth, Gypsy smirked, high on the rush of winning. Pointing her finger at Rocco, laughing, she couldn’t help it. Reality hadn’t set in yet. “Wow, you were small before, but now, Jesus, you’re pathetic,” she laughed.

Rocco took a few steps before falling to the ground, his face in a puddle of stagnant water. Every scream filled his lung with the fluid, drowning him in his blood and filth. It was then that reality hit. She had killed a man. It wasn’t just any man, but the boss of a very prominent family. Rocco Lucchese was dead in the most horrific of ways.

“Oh fuck, what have I done?” she whispered. The noise from the rafters let her know she wasn’t alone.

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