Patreon Exclusive: Desperate Measures!

Good evening everyone!

I'm proud to present a story starring Faria from "The Freelancer" series. Faria is an interesting character to write a side story for. Due to her strict code of conduct, most of the time the only fun she has is when she is working for a client.

So I asked myself, what circumstances would tempt Faria to bend, but not break her rules? The result is this story. I hope you enjoy it! The three choices for the poll this time are three characters from Cross Contamination. Next time I think the poll will be three more freelancer characters.

“I have a one o'clock appointment under the name of Faria,” said the slim, elegant woman smiling wearily at the cute girl at the reception desk. 

The petite redhead behind the desk checked the sheet in front of her briefly, gave Faria a professional nod, and said “Of course, ma'am. Welcome. I'll let Jean know you're here. She should be with you in a moment.”

“Thank you, dear,” said Faria, She had dressed simply today, with flowing pants shrouding her long, slim legs and a dark halter top exposing her graceful arms and leaving the smooth, honey-colored skin of her back bare. Turning from the reception desk, the tired, stressed hypnotist collapsed gracefully into one of the plush waiting room chairs with a deep sigh and draped a hand over her eyes.

Faria's life was in many ways unique. With the power of her hypnotic voice, she could avoid any annoyance, and have anything she wanted. She had lived that life once. For years Faria had taken whatever she wanted the instant she wanted it. Utter hedonism without end. 

But she had learned the hard way that pleasure was bland and tasteless without the seasoning of risk and disappointment. Having any man or woman she wanted with a whisper grew tedious. They all blurred together. 

So Faria had found a new way. She made a series of strict self-limiting rules that she abided by. She now only used her hypnotic voice for the benefit of her clients, never herself, and even then followed a strict protocol for selecting people to assist. The client must have been genuinely wronged by their target. The target must always get the chance to reverse the punishment. And most importantly, the circumstances had to excite Faria.

The rules reintroduced a small measure of uncertainty and annoyance into Faria’s life; just enough to make the rest of it sweeter by comparison. 

But allowing petty disappointments and stress into her life did mean that it occasionally piled up. This week had not gone well. Two potential clients had made up crimes done to them by their targets, which was always a waste of time and effort. 

To make matters worse, authorities had become suspicious unusually quickly about one of her projects on the East Coast, and she had been forced to move operations sooner than expected. Faria had been forced to cancel a planned evening with Madeline, one of her most cherished sex friends, much to both of their disappointment. 

The week spent hastily moving, with no thrilling clients and no rendezvous, had left Faria not just stressed, but sexually frustrated—a rare and unpleasant condition for someone as charming and dominant as her. But one advantage of being in Southern California again was the ability to visit Jean's salon, and a relaxing few hours putting her shining black hair under Jean's expert care was precisely what she needed right now.

Faria had been waiting only a few moments when a woman flung open the door from the outside, chattering on her cell phone as she strode toward the reception desk. 

Faria’s life was so sex-focused that her first instinct when seeing someone for the first time was to evaluate them sexually. This young woman had potential. She had the sort of fake, glossy attractiveness that indicated she probably made her living from her appearance. That sort of artificial beauty was off-putting on a lot of women, but it worked well for this girl. 

She had long, sleek, dyed-blond hair, a deep bronze tan, and blindingly white teeth. The woman was wearing a tiny, cute pair of Jean shorts that showed off her slim athletic legs, and a cutoff top that displayed a tantalizing stripe of firm, tanned belly. Large dark sunglasses shrouded her face above her pouty pink lips, which were currently thinned in an expression of annoyance.

She was a hot little piece of ass to be sure, but Faria judged her immediately as probably too self-centered to be much fun in bed. 

The young woman swept up to the reception desk, ending her phone call with a snapped: “Fine. Take care of it then.” Instead of looking up at the receptionist, she frowned down at her phone, her thumbs moving rapidly over the screen as she spoke. “I need to see Jean. Now.” Her voice was high and feminine but without any warmth or grace. 

Faria could see the resigned look on the receptionist’s face from across the room. This clearly wasn’t their first encounter. “I’m sorry Miss Kay, but that won’t be possible today,” said the small redheaded receptionist in a tone that made it clear she expected an angry retort at any moment. “Jean is with a client currently, and our next appointment is already…”

“Wait… you’re joking, right?” said the young woman with a chilly smile. She took off her sunglasses to reveal deep blue eyes and an artful dusting of freckles. “These other clients, do they have over a hundred thousand followers on FlicPix? Were they rated top influencer of 2022?” She leaned over the counter with a sneer. “Those other clients aren’t Jemma fucking Kay, and I don’t give a shit if they miss their hair appointment. And neither should Jean.”

The redheaded receptionist tried to put on a brave face, but Jemma Kay was clearly someone who intimidated her. “E-even so, Ms. Kay, they made their appointments, and we can’t just cancel them. It would be…” 

Jemma was already walking away, towards the door to the back area of the salon. “I don’t have time to argue with idiots today, my hair is a fucking mess,” she muttered venomously, tossing her seemingly perfect silvery blonde hair over her shoulder as she barged into Jean’s workspace. 

Faria grimaced. She was in no mood for this. She glanced at the clock. Already past her appointment time. And now Jean would have to have a showdown with this exhausting little bitch before Faria’s appointment could begin. To pass the time, Faria opened Flicpix. She wasn’t a big fan of the app: she thought it was a symptom of today’s vapid society. But it had come up in one of her projects a few months ago, so she did have an account. 

Jemma Kay… Yes, it did appear that she was a popular content creator on the platform. Her online persona was vastly different than the cold, entitled young woman she had just seen in the salon. A bright, enthusiastic Jemma danced on Faria’s screen with a shiny smile, her tanned body moving rhythmically to a song that Faria’s silenced phone wasn’t playing. 

A fake, vapid girl who believed she was better than Faria. A pretty little bitch that thought that her shallow internet fame made her special and untouchable. It was exactly the type of person that Faria once would have relished breaking, watching their smug pride drain from their eyes, replaced by humble obedience. 

But Faria didn’t do that kind of thing anymore. Her rules were important. Even if it would be deliciously satisfying to teach Jemma a lesson about respect. Even if she really desperately needed a way to relieve some stress and sexual frustration right now. A video on her screen showed Jemma applying mascara with a cute little lopsided smile, probably shilling a product. Faria looked up at the receptionist, who was still a little shaken from her run-in with the nightmare customer.

…Bending the rules wasn’t the same as breaking them. And God, she deserved it after the week she had just gone through. Faria rose and approached the receptionist’s desk. 

“Is everything alright?” asked Faria, making the distracted young woman jump slightly.

“Oh! Yes, Ma’am, my apologies. Rest assured that Jean will take care of everything. There may be a brief delay, but I am sure your appointment will begin shortly,” said the redhead earnestly. Faria waved away her concern. “No, dear, I’m not worried about that, I’m worried about you. That woman treated you just awfully!” she said sympathetically. 

The redhead gave Faria a thin smile, tentative, but much more genuine than the polite customer service smiles she had shown up until now. “Thank you, ma’am. I wish I could say it was the first time. Jemma is… Well, let’s just say a challenge.” 

“So why not just ban her?” said Faria, her dark eyes warm and curious, drawing the cute receptionist into spilling more than she should. The receptionist sighed. “I wish we could. It must seem like Jean is being cowardly. You know how some people will threaten to sink a business with bad reviews? That’s usually bluster, but Jemma has done it before. That’s what happened to her last hair salon. Her followers will do whatever she says, including making up nasty one-star reviews.” 

“I’ve seen her content. She’s cute when you don't know her personality. I'm sure the guys who follow her online would do anything for her,” mused Faria. The idea of so many simps watching Jemma's feed obsessively was already giving her a good idea. 

The receptionist shrugged uncomfortably. “Well, anyway, I'm sorry ma'am. There really isn't much we can do. I'm sure Jean will be able to smooth things over in a few minutes,” the receptionist sighed. “Although she may have to stay late to squeeze Jemma into a special appointment.”

Faria grinned and leaned across the counter. It was time to bend the rules a little. “If you pay me twenty dollars, I'll teach that little bitch a lesson in humility,” said Faria in a beguiling voice. The redhead gave her a nervous look, had the slim elegant woman across the counter from her suddenly gone insane? “E-excuse me, ma'am?”

“Twenty dollars. A more than fair price for Jemma Kay to be humbled and humiliated, wouldn't you say?” Faria’s dark eyes were deep and compelling, her calm confident demeanor at odds with her sinister words. “You don't need to know the details, they would only make you feel guilty. All you need to know is that, after I’m finished, Jemma will be knocked off her high horse, and will think twice about treating others like they are beneath her.”

Faria held out a slim, beautifully manicured hand with a crooked grin on her face. “Twenty dollars.”

The receptionist looked at the strange, beautiful woman across from her. She hesitated. Bit her lip. Bent to retrieve her purse. A crisp twenty-dollar bill passed between their hands as Faria’s dark eyes sparkled with delight. 

“Perfect!” said Faria cheerfully. “I'll be proceeding with this project.” She folded up the twenty and deftly tucked it into the receptionist’s shirt pocket. “There you are dear, a little tip for putting up for so much today.”

The receptionist’s face was a mask of confusion. “Thank you ma’am, but I…”

*Go home* commanded Faria. Her voice came out slithering and strange, echoing oddly on the hard surfaces of the reception lobby. The receptionist’s eyes clouded over momentarily, then cleared. She picked up her purse and walked out the door of the salon, not looking back. 

Faria watched her go with a smile, then headed to the private back area of the salon.

A chagrined woman, her hair already finished, pushed past Faria towards the exit as she moved through the doorway..

As she entered the back area, Faria saw Jemma Kay, sitting on the salon chair with a stubborn look on her face, tapping away at her phone as usual, clearly refusing to budge. Jean, a square-jawed woman in drab professional clothes, stood to the side, wringing her hands with indecision. As she saw Faria enter, her face twisted, seeing her next client obviously causing her greater anxiety.

She hurried forward with an apologetic look, “I'm so sorry Ms. Faria. I'm having a bit of a customer service issue. If you would just wait in the lobby for a moment longer, I can…”

“I'll handle this Jean,” interrupted Faria smoothly. “Why don't you…”

*...take the day off*

The worry on Jean's face smoothed away, replaced with muddled confusion. Then the older woman turned on her heel, moving toward the front of the salon.

*Lock up on your way out, Dear,* called Fatia after her. Then she turned back to the pretty little influencer in the salon chair. Jemma didn't even glance up from her phone as Faria approached.

“The receptionist out there paid me twenty dollars to teach you a lesson,” said Faria without ceremony. “Would you rather pay me forty dollars to fuck off?”

Faria's confident tone and bizarre statement finally got Jemma's attention. Her deep blue eyes rose from her phone to glare at Faria. Her perfect lips twisted into a sneer. “Teach me a lesson? And what sort of lesson could I learn from a nobody like you?” She raised a thin, plucked eyebrow. “I think I'll just tell you to fuck off and save myself the money. “

Faria’s smile sharpened. It was exactly what she had been hoping to hear. “Perfect, let's get started then. Jemma Kay, you are a nasty little bitch who thinks she's better than everyone else because a bunch of men simp over you on Flicpix,” Faria chuckled. “You know honey, most women who make their money by dancing for horny boys are a bit more humble than you.

Faria’s words were so rude that for a moment it seemed like Jemma struggled to understand them, her face black and eyes simply curious. Then a wave of fury crashed over the young woman’s face, twisting and reddening it beyond recognition. “You just made the worst mistake of your life, bitch!” the furious influencer managed to choke out, rising to her feet in a rush. 

“Oh no,” said Faria in mock fear. 

*You want to humiliate me by posting a video about me to all your fans, don't you Jemma?*

For just a moment, Jemma's eyebrows creased as Faria’s voice interfered with her thought processes. But what Faria had suggested wasn't too far from what she had in mind, so she adapted quickly. “That's fucking right!” she said with a vicious grin, brandishing her phone, “I don't know who the fuck you are, but in a second here, the entire internet is going to hate your fucking guts.”

Normally, when hypnotizing a target, Faria had to use a complex process of getting to know them first, then putting them into programming mode, and then implanting careful changes in their underlying thoughts. 

She didn't need to bother with all that in Jemma's case. What she had in mind for this young woman was much cruder and shorter-term. 

*You want to know what would be most humiliating to me…* said Faria in her general purpose voice for short-term brute force hypnosis. “Isn't that right, Ms. Kay?”

Jemma shook her head a little, as if to clear it, saying “Yeah! I want to know the best way to tear you down, bitch. So what kind of video would embarrass you the most?” Jemma frowned in confusion. Something felt wrong to her. Why was she asking for her victim's advice? It would be too late by the time Jemma figured it out.

Faria’s smile widened as she softly said, *It would be devastatingly humiliating if someone posted a video of me getting eaten out by another woman.*

Jemma's eyes glazed over for a moment as her mind rebelled against the suggestion. Faria stalked closer. 

*Imagine it, Jemma. My tenderest, most private area, exposed to the world. Attacked relentlessly by the lips and tongue of a superior woman. Being dominated like that for all the world to see… I would just die of shame.

Jemma's eyes were vague and unfocused. “Sh-shame?” she whimpered. Her eyes began to sharpen. “Yeah… Yeah, that's right. I'm going to show the world that I'm the dominant one here! You shouldn't have told me that, you pervert, because now that's exactly what we’re doing!”

Faria shrugged theatrically. “Well, you win, Jemma. I should have known that I couldn't stand up to a powerful Flicpix model like you. Here, let’s do this on the salon chair.” The slim dark-haired hypnotist stepped gracefully out of her pants before peeling her tiny black thong off, revealing her lovely bronze nudity from the waist down. She sat back in the salon chair, spreading her legs to reveal a tight little pussy, already puffed up and shining with excited juices at the prospect of what was to come. 

*Come over here, honey. It's time for you to really put my naughty pussy in its place.*

Jemma approached with halting steps, her mind warring with itself. On one hand, she felt a powerful desire to humiliate this bitch and teach her a lesson. But a nagging voice in the back of her head kept insisting that she shouldn't do it like this: that something wasn’t quite right here. 

Jemma fell to her knees between Faria’s luscious thighs, scowling up at the infuriating woman who had insulted her. The whole point of this was to dominate this bitch, to reassert her power. So why did this position, kneeling in front of her enemy's glistening cunt, feel so weak and subservient? Jemma shook her head again. She was developing a migraine. 

*Well Jemma, it's time for my Flicpix debut. Let's show all your fans who's boss, hmmm?* Said Faria, smug face looming above her. Jemma pulled out her phone, moving the selfie camera around to try to find the perfect angle. 

*Let me help you dear,* said Faria with a smile. The strange woman deftly snatched her phone and turned it, holding it steady to capture the humiliating video. 

“Ready, Jemma?” asked Faria sweetly. “Lights, camera, action!”

As the recording started, Jemma’s hesitation fell away. Now she was in her element. She smiled charmingly, her eyes shining and her nose crinkling as she teasingly ran her hands up Faria’s shapely brown thighs. 

“Hiiiii Kaybabies!” she chirped with a giggle. “So the weirdest thing happened to me when I went to get my hair done today. This lady got up in my face, insulting me for no reason!” Jemma wiggled herself forward a little on her knees, speaking up into the camera with her face framed by Faria’s thighs. “So I told her, ‘You don’t even know who you are messing with!’. Anyway, here she is guys. I’m about to teach this rude b-word why you don’t mess around with someone who has over one hundred thousand followers. Make sure to like and share the video! Let’s make her famous guys!” 

There was a flicker of hesitation on her perfect, stunning face as Jemma extended her tongue and parted the moist lips of Faria’s pussy, but then her natural showmanship reasserted itself. She dived in, latching her mouth onto the pussy in front of her and working her lips and tongue enthusiastically, munching and slurping and playing to the camera with mischievous winks and raised eyebrows. 

Jemma wasn’t too bad. A solid six out of ten. Her wicked little tongue knew just where to lick, but her lip work needed improvement. Very impressive for a woman who clearly didn’t have much experience serving a mistress on her knees. And visually, the cunnilingus was unparalleled. The social media darling had a true instinct for visual flair. Jemma wriggled her face into the juicy cunt before her with relish while her pink-nailed hands dug into Faria’s bronze thighs. A feast for the eyes. 

Faria gave Jemma some time to enjoy herself, then stopped the video. She tapped the dazed, distracted blonde on the head, making Jemma finally pull away, her face shiny and dripping. 

*Now all you need to do is post the video, honey. Then you win.* 

“R-right,” said Jemma, taking back her phone. She navigated to her account on Picflix, drafting an appropriate video description and hashtags. #revenge #queen #girlpower. Her finger hovered over the post button. Her head was pounding. It felt hard to think. 

Faria leaned down, her large dark eyes seeming to fill Jemma’s vision. 

*Post it, Jemma*

Jemma’s finger stabbed down, sending her latest video live onto her account. 

Faria straightened back up, a triumphant grin on her face. She snapped her fingers. *Disregard everything I told you, Ms. Kay.”

The perfect plastic beauty kneeling at Faria’s feet lowered her eyebrows slowly as her mind caught back up to speed with reality. Faria could practically see the truth seeping into Jemma’s mind. Her position on the floor. The bottomless woman looming above her. The taste in her mouth…

Jemma’s phone gave a loud, cheerful *Ping*. Some notification about engagement on her latest post: perhaps a like or share. Jemma’s eyes widened as her she looked down at her phone in horror, her memory finally snapping into focus. 

Jemma’s thumbs were fast, but Faria’s voice was faster. “I’m sorry, honey, but *You just can’t remember how to delete posts from Picflix.*  Jemma’s thumbs flew over her screen. Then they paused. Moved rapidly again. A low whine of panic began in Jemma’s throat. Her phone made another loud *Ping*. 

“I can’t imagine that the moderators of Picflix will look too kindly on your new style of content, sweetie,” said Faria smugly, bringing a finger to her lips in a thoughtful pose. “How long do you think it will take for them to ban you from the app completely? Ten minutes? Less?”

Jemma looked up with wild eyes, her face completely drained of blood and arrogance. She looked down again, struggling through menus and options screens, trying futilely to locate the clearly displayed “delete post” button. 

*Ping*... *Ping*

“But it’s almost worse if they don’t ban you, right? Think about all your biggest fans right now. The ones that constantly refresh to see if you’ve posted. This must be the best day of their lives! I’m sure they are all saving the video for later use.”

Jemma finally gave up, tossing aside her phone with a moan of horror and frustration. She gripped her head in her hands. 

*PIng**PIng**PIng**PIng**PIng**PIng**PIng**PIng**PIng**PIng*

Faria reached down and tilted Jemma’s chin up with a finger, looking deep into her eyes, savoring the defeat and shame there like a fine wine. “My dear, I know how to delete posts. I could help you.”

Jemma’s wide, frightened eyes gained a tiny spark of hope. “P-please,” she said quietly, barely louder than the constant notification sounds of her phone. “I-I’ll do anything.”

“I thought you’d say that,” said Faria smugly, leaning back and spreading her legs wider, rolling her hips forward slightly towards the young blonde’s face. Her smoldering, lewd stare made her demand clear without further words. 

“B-but I… please ma’am. I.. I c-can’t.,” stuttered Jemma pathetically, her eyes transfixed by the beautiful brown pussy in front of her eyes, still dripping with a mixture of Faria’s fluids and Jemma’s saliva. 

“Nonsense,” insisted Faria, hooking an ankle behind the hesitant young influencer’s head and drawing deeper between her thighs. “I think you just proved that you can to the whole world. Now, if you can make me cum, I’ll help you take down that career-ruining post. Based on how many likes I hear it getting, I would hurry if I were you.”

Jemma’s lips trembled as she realized that Faria was serious. Her eyes almost crossed as she stared at the aroused pussy just inches from her face. She visibly steeled herself and leaned forward, planting a soft wet kiss on Faria’s labia. Her tongue wiggled out cautiously, entering her tormentor’s pussy for the second time that day, lapping and slithering over Faria’s clit. 

“Hmmm, not bad,” said Faria, her eyes amused, her head tilted and planted on her chin. “But not enough to make me cum. I’ll give you a hint, Jemma. I get off on stuck-up little girls like you being very, very sorry for being rude to me. Less clothing would probably help as well.” 

Jemma whimpered as she pulled the tiny cutoff shirt over her head, rapidly unclasped her bra to reveal little perky tanned tits, and shimmied out of her jean shorts and panties. Faria was amused to see the telltale signs of female arousal: swollen nipples and inner thighs shiny with Jemma’s love juices. Some women didn’t know how submissive they were until the chips were down. It looked like Miss Kay might be learning a lot about her sexuality today.

“Now make me feel how sorry you are for daring to think you were above me,” said Faria in a cold, iron-hard voice. Jemma cast her eyes down as she moved back between Faria’s welcoming thighs.

“I… I’m sorry ma’am,” said Jemma falteringly, apologies clearly not coming naturally to her. She planted a gentle kiss between Faria’s legs, her eyes, desperate and soft and submissive, rising to find Faria’s. “I’m n-nothing. You are above me in every way. I should have known immediately. Please. Please cum for me. Let me show you how sorry I am.” 

And with that, Jemma dived between Faria’s thighs, her hands circling behind Faria’s toned ass to pull her meal closer. Her earlier reluctance was gone: she was fully committed to pleasing the superior woman above her. Jemma was losing herself in submission, even almost forgetting about the public humiliation that she was desperately trying to avoid. Her sharp little tongue plunged and twisted and wriggled, desperate to earn the orgasm that Faria had demanded. 

Faria sighed and relaxed. This was what she had needed. It was even better than a hair appointment as far as stress relief was concerned. She leaned down and twisted a handful of sleek platinum hair into her hand, forcing Jemma closer and grinding her cunt hard into the brat’s flawless face. 

The discarded phone went wild, lighting up and buzzing as the world learned of Jemma’s disgrace. Jemma moaned with a combination of fear and submissive lust, sending delicious vibrations through the pussy crushed tight against her mouth. 

Faria climaxed, her fluids smearing the face of a famously cute internet starlet as her thighs clenched powerfully around her pretty little head. 

It had been a shitty week, but Faria could always find a way to turn things around.