Femme Fatale KENZIE
Available 6/15-7/5
It’s a pleasure to introduce myself, I'm Kenzie.
My journey through life’s complexities has led me to embrace the full spectrum of pleasure and companionship at Happy Ending Ranch here in Flagstone, Nevada. Hailing from the vibrant city of Bayamón, Puerto Rico, I bring the warmth and spirited energy of my homeland to every encounter. Let’s weave a narrative of unforgettable moments, where each experience is steeped in genuine connection and mutual delight.
My soul dances to the rhythm of life’s enchanting melodies and finds peace in the serene murmur of nature’s breath. I am a connoisseur of the arts, an explorer of the unknown, and a storyteller at heart, with a penchant for the thrilling twists of suspense cinema. My intellectual curiosity leads me through thought-provoking dialogues and into the realms of fantasy and reality alike.
Health and vitality form the cornerstone of my ethos. I balance the vitality of dance with the grounding practice of yoga, complemented by the tranquility of meditation. My life is a symphony of moderation and indulgence, always aiming to spread positivity.
Nature's embrace is where I find my sanctuary, especially amidst the lush landscapes and serene beaches of my homeland. My wanderlust has taken me to the world’s hidden corners, where I've savored the essence of each locale, from its cuisine to its history. Travel is the pulse of my life, sparking conversations about journeys past and dreams of adventures yet to come.
Services offered:
Tropical GFE: Immerse in the warm embrace of intimacy, where our shared moments resonate with the joy of companionship and the thrill of heartfelt connection. Rediscover the excitement of anticipation and the comfort of genuine affection.
Island Sensuality: Unveil your desires under my nurturing guidance. Whether venturing into realms of pleasure for the first time or rekindling your sensual flame, I'm here to lead the way with empathy, celebrating every discovery.
Couple's Oasis: Abscond with me into the realm of shared fantasies, where each desire is explored with care and respect. Our time together becomes a harmonious passion, reflecting the unique bond you and your partner share.
Fetish Fiesta: Embrace the spectrum of your desires in a space where kinks are celebrated and curiosity is king. From the playful to the profound, I provide a haven for your erotic explorations.
Gentle Dominance: Surrender to the exhilarating dance of submission, where pleasure and control intertwine, guiding you to unexplored heights of ecstasy in a tender yet commanding embrace.
Sensual Revival: Rekindle your essence, enhancing your confidence, as we craft a journey that enriches your life with renewed pleasures.
Caribbean Caress: Escape into a world of tranquility with a therapeutic massage that blends island rhythms with Tantric techniques, creating a sanctuary of peace.
Each adventure with me is a passage to an exceptional experience, leaving you with a profound sense of rejuvenation that lingers, reminding you of our shared moments of togetherness long after our journey ends.
-Kenzie
*Kindly contact me through the provided form on this page before making any appointments.
My Hair: Black, reflecting the depth of the night.
My Eye Color: Black, mirroring the mystery of the Caribbean abyss.
My Height: 5'7", a silhouette of grace and presence.
My Birthplace and Birthday: Bayamón, Puerto Rico, Gemini.
My Measurements: 34C, 26, 36
Favorite Retreat: The secluded beaches and mystical forests of Puerto Rico.
My Ideal Companion: A gentleman who shares my love for adventure, culture, and life’s spontaneous rhythms.
My Erotic Dream: A moonlit rendezvous in a hidden rainforest, where the whispers of nature heighten our passionate union.
My Sanctuary: A cozy haven where the dance of serenity creates an enchanting backdrop for our shared adventures.
My Must-See Film: Engaging thrillers and mysteries that challenge and enthrall.
My Playlist: An eclectic mix of salsa’s fiery beats, reggaeton’s rhythmic pulse, and soul-stirring melodies that set the tempo for our escapades.
My Culinary Delight: A tapestry of tastes where spicy, sweet, and savory converge, creating an epicurean delight that tantalizes the senses and transports the soul.
My Favorite Drink: Craft cocktails with a twist, where the artistry of mixology meets the freshness of local ingredients, creating a symphony of flavor.
My Hobbies: Echoing the diversity of my playlist, my interests range widely. I cultivate gardens, weave patterns in knitting, create art, devour literature, traverse the globe, hike trails, ride the ocean waves, craft stories, flow through yoga poses, immerse in video games, and excel in equestrian pursuits.
In the tapestry of our time together, you'll find threads of serenity woven alongside those of excitement. Allow me to be your guide on a journey of self-discovery as we explore the hidden corners of your desires and the vast landscapes of your dreams. With each step, you'll find yourself growing more attuned to your own nature, empowered by the knowledge that you are truly seen and celebrated.
Our connection will be a catalyst for personal transformation, a reminder that life's greatest pleasures often lie in the unexpected. As you return to your daily life, you'll carry with you a newfound confidence and a zest for living that will color your world in vibrant hues. And should you ever find yourself longing for another escape, know that I'll be here at Happy Ending Ranch, ready to welcome you back into my bed with open arms.
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Kenzie had no idea what her eyes were saying, but his spoke volumes. Within their depths, she discerned an unfathomable darkness and an insatiable hunger. From the moment their GFE began twenty minutes ago, she had witnessed these emotions intensifying, simmering beneath the restrained demeanor he exhibited, even during kisses so passionate that she couldn't remain still. Kenzie should have known, should have seen it coming, and yet, when she tipped her head back, lips parted in a silent beckoning, the hunger erupted in a frenzy of need and desire. Gone was the suave gentleman, replaced by a man possessed, driven by a craving that wouldn't be sated until he had claimed every inch of her.
With a single, determined step, he stood before her, towering and resolute. His left hand plunged into her hair, fingers combing through the saturated locks as water from the shower poured over him, drenching her face and chest in a deluge as he claimed her with an unyielding grip.
"Careful with your teeth," Lucas Morrison said, his voice low and commanding as he took hold of his cock, its size dwarfing even his large right hand. Kenzie had just enough time to prepare, folding her lips over her teeth before he eased into her mouth. His movement was slow, more a steady push than a thrust, yet it went deep enough to make her gag as it hit her throat's back.
Her hands snapped up in the narrow shower stall, seeking his hips, but he was in the process of pulling away.
"Loosen your throat. You can breathe. Do as I say. Just let go. Good girl.”
The instinct to retreat was immediate, but years at the ranch had trained Kenzie to ignore such impulses. His secure hold on her head kept her in place, exactly where he wanted her, exactly where she was being paid extra to be wanted. She softened her throat, relaxed her jaw, and closed her eyes, giving in to the act of being possessed, used in the most debasing and objectifying way. Lucas was not merely a man; he was the brothel’s most faithful patron, and of her ardent regulars.
“Look at me,” he ordered, growling.
She lifted her eyelids, locking onto the intense expression on his face while he thrust into her accommodating mouth. Each penetration varied, from rapid and superficial to deliberate and deep, occasionally going so far back that breathing became an impossibility. It was pure determination that fended off the encroaching panic as Lucas anchored Kenzie in place, her mouth skewered, her throat tight, and her head throbbing with pressure.
“Fuck, yes,” he said, pulling out. “Breathe. Deep breath. Hold it.”
Then he surged forward again, burying himself to the hilt. So intensely that Kenzie felt a surge of desire ripple through her core. Without warning, he let go of her head. Clasping his hands behind him, he attempted to step away, but deprived of his presence, she pursued him. Now it was Kenzie’s turn, eagerly impaling her mouth on his shaft. Devouring and tasting, she enveloped his length and testicles with her mouth, her hands exploring as her lips and tongue navigated every contour, every vein.
Lucas began to fuck again, gentle at first, with merely a small segment of his length slipping in and out of her lips. "You've always been top-notch at this," he commended. Accelerating his pace, he penetrated with greater force and depth. “One of the fucking best.”
His breathing quickened, and his hands, gripping the sides of her head and tangled in her damp hair, tightened. His hips started to thrust erratically, the muscles in his buttocks tensing, signaling his climax's approach.
"Now," he growled, and she endeavored to match his timing. Although slightly off, the initial hot, salty burst hit her tongue, followed by a relentless onslaught. Kenzie transitioned from sucking to swallowing, managing to consume every drop, a feat she took pride in, particularly with a trusted, recurring monger like Lucas.
His cock began to relax as he finally withdrew from her mouth. Sperm trickled down her lips, with sticky strands hanging from her chin, yet her tongue was clear, a detail she eagerly displayed once he pulled away.
Looking down at Kenzie, Lucas lost his composure first to a smile, and then to a laugh. “Oh, man. Wow.” He stroked heavy clumps of hair away from her wet face. “That’s always worth the extra two hundred dollars.”
A look of blissful satisfaction crossed Kenzie’s face as she gathered the cum in her hand, savoring its taste with gentle, eager laps of her tongue.
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Tony Spaeth strode into Tom Bradley's office without knocking, his presence commanding respect despite his lean, wiry frame. His well-trimmed mustache and cold, calculating eyes gave him the air of a man accustomed to bending circumstances to his will. Spaeth's charm served as a carefully polished veneer, concealing the ruthless nature of his ambitions. He was always poised to pounce on those who strayed from his strict, albeit warped, interpretation of the law.
“Sheriff Spaeth." Tom Bradley acknowledged the man, his tone cordial yet guarded. Seated behind his cluttered desk, Bradley appeared the antithesis of Spaeth's calculated composure. His office, adorned with pictures of local landmarks and a detailed map of Flagstone, reflected the town's rich history and Bradley's deep-rooted commitment to the community he served. Despite his overweight build and ruddy complexion, Bradley exuded a warmth that filled the room, though his smile was tempered by the wariness Spaeth's visit instilled. The air between them crackled with an unspoken tension, a familiar dance of power and manipulation. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Spaeth didn’t bother with pleasantries. He leaned forward, hands flat on Bradley’s desk, his voice low but insistent. "It’s time we did something about Happy Ending Ranch, Mayor. With Colt McCarron out of the picture, that place is running under the watchful guise of one of the no-good, two-bit sluts who work there.” He glanced at his paperwork. “Lindsay Anastacio, a twenty-one-year-old, and probably coked-up to her eyeballs. I have concerns about her ability to run the business effectively and legally.”
Bradley leaned back in his chair, folding his hands on the desk as he regarded Spaeth with a measured gaze. "Sheriff, the ranch brings in a significant amount of tourism and revenue to our town. It’s been a stable establishment for years, even decades. Miss Anastacio has been a huge part of its success dating back pre-pandemic.”
Spaeth's snort was almost a snarl, his upper lip curling back to reveal a glimpse of teeth. "Success?" He spat the word out as if it were poison on his tongue. "Is that what you call ringing a proverbial dinner bell and welcoming the dregs of society to congregate in our town?"
He crept closer, his eyes flashing with a zealous fire. "McCarron, that piece of shit, his absence is a blessing in disguise. It's an opportunity to finally rid Flagstone of the stain that is Happy Ending Ranch. We can shut it down, start fresh, and rebuild our town's reputation. No more will we be known as a haven for debauchery and vice."
"Think about it, Tom.” Spaeth’s voice dropped to a fervent whisper. “A new beginning for Flagstone, a chance to attract respectable businesses and families. All we have to do is eradicate the cancer that is the whorehouse, and we can usher in a new era of morality."
Bradley's smile faded, his eyes hardening as they locked with Spaeth's fierce stare. "I hear your concerns, Sheriff, but let's not forget the bigger picture here." He gestured to the map of Flagstone on the wall, his finger tracing the highways leading into town. "The bordello brings in a steady stream of visitors, people who spend their money at our local businesses, restaurants, and the hotel."
He tapped his desk for emphasis, his voice steady but firm. "That revenue keeps Flagstone from becoming just another name on a map of forgotten Nevada towns. Without the bordello, without the tourism it attracts, what would become of us? Tumbleweeds blowing down Gold Street? Boarded-up windows and empty storefronts?"
Bradley reclined in his chair, his gaze unwavering. "I understand your moral objections, but we can't ignore the economic realities. Happy Ending Ranch, for better or worse, is a vital part of Flagstone's livelihood. We need to consider the far-reaching consequences before we make any rash decisions."
Spaeth slammed his fist on the desk, his eyes lit with righteous fury. "I don’t give a damn about your economic theories, Tom." His voice dropped to a whisper yet again. "You’re treading on dangerous ground here. Think about the moral fabric of our community.” He jabbed a finger at Bradley. “What message are we sending by allowing that den of iniquity to operate? That it’s okay for a bunch of drugged-up skanks to spread their legs for any man with a couple hundred bucks in his pocket?”
Spaeth slammed his fist down again, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the small office. “I won’t stand for it, Tom. I won't let you drag Flagstone down into the gutter just to line your coffers with a few extra dollars. We have an opportunity to make things right, to purge this town of its sins, and by God, I won't let you squander it.”
Bradley inched closer, his eyes projecting a dire warning to come. “Careful, Sheriff. Remember who you’re talking to.” He stood, strolling around the desk to meet Spaeth face-to-face. “I am the mayor of this town. I’m the one in charge. If you ever speak to me like that again, if you ever try to undermine my authority or threaten the fabric of our community, I promise you, you will regret it. A sheriff can easily be replaced if he becomes a liability.”
He walked to the window, his back to Spaeth. “Yet, you paint a vivid picture. Whores, drugs, moral decay. But let me ask you something. Where is your proof? And who appointed you the arbiter of Flagstone’s morality? Who gave you the right to pass judgment on our fellow citizens?
"The ranch operates within the law. And like it or not, Miss Anastacio has shown herself to be a capable businesswoman. Let’s give her a chance to prove herself, shall we? She has done quite well for herself in her few meetings with city council.
“On the other hand, if you have any evidence of wrongdoing, bring it to me. We will act accordingly, and within the scope of the law. But if all you have is your own prejudice and a desire to impose your moral code on others, then I suggest you tread very carefully.” He turned, his stare deadly. “Consider this your first and final warning.”
Spaeth, his body trembling with restraint, took a step back. "Prove herself? We're talking about a brothel here, Tom, not some reputable business venture that's building a better future for Flagstone. You talk about giving chances as if we're dealing with normal business practices. But let's not dress it up – it's exploitation, plain and simple. Even worse, it's sex trafficking.”
He paused, his gaze piercing Bradley. "You say I'm imposing my moral code, but I say I'm the one trying to uphold the dignity of our town. It's not just about legality; it's about decency, about what we stand for as a community."
Spaeth's voice grew firmer, his conviction clear. "And yes, I have my sources and my suspicions. I’m closer to the ground than you are. I see the effects this place has on our streets, on our youth. You can hide behind economic arguments all you want, but at the end of the day, it's about more than money – it's about our soul.
"And let’s not forget, elections are coming. People talk, they have opinions, and they're looking for leaders who reflect their values. They want a mayor they can be proud of, not one that’s known for harboring filth and indecency."
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"Cierra, stop saying that. I'm not being paranoid." Jim stormed forward, eating up the distance to the far wall in a few long strides. His sneakers squeaked against the linoleum as he whirled around, stalking back the way he came, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Overhead, the flickering fluorescent cast an erratic light, its gleam accentuating the deep creases of his scowl.
He reached the silent sentinels of the industrial washers and dryers and pivoted, the agitated drumbeat of his fingers against his thighs echoing in the otherwise cramped space. The room's very being was a tangible entity, saturated with the caustic, chemical bite of detergent and the pervasive aura of neglect, an all-encompassing and suffocating presence that left no corner untouched.
Jim’s voice broke the silence again, more urgent this time. "Listen." His hand swept through his hair, leaving sweat-slicked strands in disarray. He resumed pacing, the sound of his steps heavy against the cracked, grimy floor tiles. "Lindsay's scheming, planning big moves without me in the picture. She's looking to ditch me, thinks she can groom Donald to take over – bartender, house manager, the whole deal. I can't just watch as that little brabag tries to dismantle my life’s work, my thirty-eight years here."
“Jim, has Lindsay outright said she wants you gone? Has she even implied it? You’re reading between lines that aren’t there.” Pressing her back against the cool, dormant dryer, Kenzie exhaled, her face etched with the weight of Jim's fears. Arms crossed, she’d observed his frantic pacing with a pursed mouth, signaling her exhaustion with his conspiracy theories. “Lindsay values your dedication and experience. She’s not looking to push you out.”
“Lindsay values my dedication and experience? She thinks she knows better, thinks she can sweep me aside like I’m nothing.” He paced a few more steps, then spun back to Kenzie, his eyes blazing. “I can see it in the way she looks at me. She’s pushing for change, new policies, new procedures. Why? Because Lindsay wants me gone, wants to erase my four decades of service here.” He jabbed a finger into his own chest. “Me, of all people? She wants to fire me. Hell, I’ve done plenty more for this house than even Colt ever did. I’m the face of the fucking place! No one interacts with more customers than I do. I’m not gonna watch Lindsay dismantle everything I’ve worked so hard for. Not without a fight.”
Kenzie pushed off the dryer, her eyes narrowing as she stepped toward her fiancé. “Jim, you’ve gone off the rails. Lindsay has no intention of firing you. She needs you. She needs your help, your years of wisdom and expertise.”
Jim's laugh was more of a bark, sharp and bitter. "Expertise? If Lindsay valued my expertise, why the hell is she pushing for all these changes without even consulting me?" His hands clenched into white-knuckled fists. "No, she wants me to train Donald how to interact with mongers and tend bar. Wants him to replace me as house manager. She's just too much of a coward to admit it to my face.”
He whirled away, his shoulders taut. “Before long, she’ll be bringing back her friends Piper and Tessa to work here again too. Hell, she’d exhume Angelia from her grave if it meant she could be brought back from the dead and work here as well. Nothing would make Lindsay happier than to have her merry little band of misfits back together. Meanwhile, the house would turn into the drizzling shits. It won’t last six months with her in charge. And Donald? Donald, as the second in command? The one who meets and greets every customer? That fat fuck virgin?”
Kenzie’s lips trembled. “What you’re planning could destroy Lindsay’s life; it could tear apart Happy Ending Ranch, too, and there’d be nothing left for you to take over or buy.”
“Destroy Lindsay’s life? She’s the one trying to ruin mine! Fuck, Cierra! Don’t you understand? You know how this industry is. You don’t wait for threats to materialize. You preempt them. Lindsay’s grandiose ideas, whatever they are, won’t matter once I’m done with her.”
“Jim, this is madness! You’re about to start a war based on your own insecurities. Think of the consequences, the people you’ll hurt – including yourself.”
Jim's eyes gleamed like polished steel, reflecting an icy determination that seemed to freeze the very air around him. “I could place an anonymous tip with the Sherriff’s Office, tell them about Lindsay’s illegal activities with Sammy and her other sugar daddy in Utah. What’s his name again? Ben Phalen, isn’t it? Or maybe I could plant something in her bedroom – drugs, stolen goods – anything to cast a shadow over her. She went through a period where she was addicted to weed, right? Cocaine and meth wouldn’t be too far-fetched for her. With an official police investigation, Lindsay wouldn’t look so golden to Colt and Pamela then.”
"You're talking about framing her, destroying her life over assumptions! That is a criminal offense itself! Can't you see how far you've strayed from reality?"
“Reality is what you make it. It’s not about what’s true; it’s what I can make people believe. If Lindsay appears guilty, then she is guilty to those who matter – Colt, Pamela, Sherriff Spaeth, Mayor Bradley, and the members of city cousin who’ll vote whether to approve the sale or not.”
“The truth will come out eventually! And when it does, you’ll be the one facing the consequences, not Lindsay. She could sue you for defamation of character.”
Jim’s confident smirk dissolved into a grim line. “I’ve covered up bigger messes in the past, especially under William’s reign. What’s one more if it secures my future? Our future? We’re in this together. Taking over Happy Ending Ranch isn’t just for me, Cierra; it’s for us. I want to know that when I’m gone, you’ll be taken care of.”
“Lindsay doesn’t want to fire you! Again, she needs you! Can’t you see that?” Kenzie’s chest heaved, her cheeks flushed with exasperation. “For God’s sake, Jim, listen to yourself! You’re talking about Lindsay like she’s some kind of villain, like she’s out to get you. You’re being ridiculous! She’s not trying to replace you. She’s not plotting to bring back Piper or Tessa. And she sure as hell isn’t going to dig up Angelia’s corpse!”
Kenzie's fingers dug into her hair, pulling at the strands until her scalp ached, the pain a welcome distraction from the chaos that swirled within her head. "This isn't just about covering up messes or securing our future through lies and manipulation. It's about integrity, about doing what's right. Framing Lindsay, destroying her life for your own gain? That's crossing a line we can never come back from. You're not just risking your own future, Jim. You're gambling with mine, with the entire ranch. If this blows up, it could drag us all down into the abyss."
“Integrity? Doing what’s right?” Jim's tone was a razor's edge, cutting and cruel. “Oh, that’s rich, Cierra … especially coming from you.” He leaned in, his breath hot against her face. “Where was your integrity when you were sucking down Lucas’s cum earlier today for an extra two hundred bucks? When you made a deal with a monger, under the table, for some extra cash? Swallowing cum is against the house’s rules. Hell, it’s against the law. Not that I care, really – sometimes a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do to pay her bills – but you don’t get to play the moral high ground card, not now. Your hands are just as dirty as mine.”
Kenzie stepped back, her shoulders sagging. “I can’t keep doing this anymore.” In that moment, it was clear to Kenzie that Jim would not be swayed, would not be deterred, would not rest until he had seen his plans through to their bitter end, no matter the cost. She turned away, her arms wrapping around herself as if to hold in the emotions threatening to spill out. “I just can’t.”
Elsewhere, in the brothel’s main office, Donald stared at the surveillance monitor, his heart pounding as Jim’s venomous words echoed in his mind. The bitter accusations, the twisted paranoia, the unhinged threats – it was all too much to process. He called me a fat fuck virgin. Shock, disbelief, and a growing sense of dread washed over Donald as he struggled to reconcile the Jim he thought he knew with the maniacal, vindictive man he’d just witnessed on the screen. Lindsay told me that she thinks the world of Jim; she looks up to him as if he were her father. The betrayal cut deep, leaving Donald sick to his stomach.
But beneath the shock and hurt, a flicker of anger began to burn. How dare Jim threaten Lindsay like that. How dare he plot to destroy her life, to tear down everything she'd worked so hard to build? Lindsay was the heart and soul of Happy Ending Ranch, its featured attraction, and its unquestioned breadwinner. She didn't deserve this, didn't deserve to have her reputation torn asunder by a man consumed by … whatever it was that drove Jim.
With a few keystrokes, Donald pulled up a live feed of the corridor of western bedrooms. At the end of the hall and on the left, he knew the shower was running behind that closed door. Lindsay had always been quick in the shower, a habit born of necessity in an establishment like Happy Ending Ranch. She’d be out soon, ready for her six o’clock appointment with Darius Randall from Idaho.
Donald flipped back to the laundry room feed. Oh, this was bad. Really bad. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the desk, his chin propped in his hands. Jim stormed out, leaving Kenzie alone, her shoulders shaking with sobs.
With a surge of determination, Donald pushed himself out of the chair, sending it spinning as he raced out of the office. If Jim were to follow through with this, the fallout would be catastrophic, not just for Lindsay, but for everyone involved with the ranch. The thought of the police, the media, and the public scrutiny sent shivers down Donald’s spine. The sooner he got to Lindsay and told her of Jim’s treachery, the better. The future of Happy Ending Ranch, the lives of its employees, and the continued enjoyment of its countless mongers hung in the balance.
(End of Chapter Forty-Seven - to be continued)
