Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86432 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86432 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Not a message from a sponsor, but from the app itself.
Our system has noticed low sponsor engagement with your current profile. Associates who include additional photos and more detailed preference information receive significantly higher response rates. Consider adding tasteful intimate images and expanding your profile to reflect how you please, respond to guidance, and accept correction.
There was even a neat little button beneath it.
Improve Profile Now
I laughed, once, without humor.
Then I kept staring at it.
Tasteful intimate images.
Respond to guidance.
Accept correction.
The language’s polish made it even more embarrassing. I knew what it meant, of course. More revealing photos. More explicit submission. Less pretending I was there for a dignified arrangement between equals. The app was telling me, in corporate euphemism, that if I wanted a man to pay attention to me, I needed to show more skin and sound more obedient.
I should have been offended enough to close it. Instead I felt heat gather low in my belly.
I set the phone down and walked, a little aimlessly, to the sink and back, as if movement might scramble the response out of me. It didn’t. I could feel the memory of Gowry’s hands… his belt… his cock… in my body as clearly as if my nerves had kept a copy: the command, the shame, the obscene thrill of being seen through and handled accordingly. And now this app, with its little prompts and metrics and suggestions, was prodding the same place with its cool fingers.
No one was making me do anything. That became, perversely, the permission.
I tapped Improve Profile Now.
A new screen opened, giving an analysis of my existing profile.
Face photo acceptable. Full-length photo modest. Intimate imagery absent. Written profile suggests reserve. Sponsors seeking structured arrangements respond best to authenticity and warmth.
Authenticity and warmth. Jesus.
The app offered examples.
I enjoy making a man’s life easier and more pleasurable.
I can be shy at first, but I blossom under confident direction.
I respond best to firm, consistent guidance and believe honesty matters, especially when correction is needed.
I read those with my mouth slightly open, equal parts appalled and fascinated. They were awful. They were also effective, I had no doubt. Men on this app did not want a white paper on my competencies. They wanted compliance, perhaps with a hint of spirit. Something they could frame as consent and then spend money shaping.
I clicked the photo section first because somehow that seemed less compromising than words, though I also knew that the thought was absurd.
The app prompted me to add either lingerie or implied nude images and informed me, helpfully, that hidden-face intimate photos were common among new associates. That made it easier, not morally but practically.
I stood in my bedroom for a long time with the phone in my hand.
Then I opened my dresser, pulled out my nicest bra and panties, and put them on.
The bra was ivory and more delicate than anything I wore for ordinary life, bought on a sale months earlier because it had made me feel elegant in the fitting room and I had had a coffee date that had ended up going nowhere. The panties matched and rode lower on my hips than I usually preferred. Looking at myself in the mirror, I saw exactly what the app wanted me to see: long red hair, pale skin, blue eyes too bright because my face was flushed, breasts cupped prettily, hips slimmer than curvier girls’ but not childish. A young woman expensive men might want to undress further.
My nipples tightened while I looked at myself, which made me furious.
I took a face-hidden shot first, angled from throat to thighs. Deleted it. Took another with my hair falling forward enough to obscure part of me while still revealing enough. The app liked that one well enough to put a green ring around it and suggest Add one more.
I should have stopped there.
Instead I sat on the edge of the bed and took a picture of my legs parted just enough to show the line of my panties and the way my pubic hair turned the soft triangle of lace slightly red between them. Not really explicit explicit. Suggestive. Tastelessly effective, probably. My hand shook when I uploaded it.
The app approved it in seconds.
Engagement likelihood increased 47%.
I nearly threw the phone at the wall.
Instead I opened the text section.
My old profile sat there looking prim and defensive.
Former legislative staffer seeking a discreet, mutually beneficial arrangement. Intelligent, polished, well-read, and adaptable. I value clarity, respect, and generosity.
It sounded like a hostage note because it was one. No wonder no one had bothered.
I deleted mutually beneficial first. The phrase suddenly seemed laughable. Then I rewrote the rest in short, careful bursts, pausing after each sentence and thinking about it as if I were making an affidavit I might later regret.
Intelligent, feminine, and discreet. New to arrangements but not to pleasing demanding men. I value generosity, clarity, and strong leadership. I can be shy at first, but I respond deeply to confidence, consistency, and a firm hand. Looking for a sponsor who appreciates honesty, polish, and a woman who wants to learn.