Adult themes, offensive humour, strong language, and an author who doesn't give a fuck :)
If you're a snowflake, stay out... 'cause it's gonna get hot!
I gripped onto the brass headboard as this man pounded into me, bringing me to the brink of orgasm... Or at least, that was what he thought he was doing. Fairly regular customers wouldn't usually be as easily fooled, however, Johnathen, as I'd come to know him, seemed to be a few pennies short of a shilling, to say the least.
"Ooh, yeah, baby!" I moaned loudly, giving the impression that this was also enjoyable for me.
Haha, jerk, I thought cynically. I wasn't even wet.
It was a useful technique that Cherry had passed down to me when I first came to work for her, to discreetly hold the customer's penis between the thighs to give the impression that he was inside me, when in actuality, I was preventing myself from pregnancy and also the possibility of diseases.
It was a win-win situation, really. He obviously didn't know any different. And trust me, if you saw some of the guys I was forced to get down and dirty with, you would do anything to avoid having any part of their hillbilly willy within ten miles of your vagina. And a pregnancy? Well, the result of that would be some kind of homunculi at best.
"You like my cock deep inside you, huh? You filthy whore," he spat, slapping my face, not too gently.
"You know I do," I purred into his ear, trying to contain my annoyance at having been slapped in the face. I want to twist your dick into a fucking pretzel and... No—he always left a good tip after the deed, so I mustn't think like that. I'll snap it in half!
"I'm going to come," he suddenly panted.
Going to come. It sounds kind of ironic when you think about the phrase. Go to come. Why would you go— "Shit!" I yelled, quickly covering my mouth. He had come alright. All over my clean bodice.
"Shit," I attempted to rectify. "Five star customer. You made me come hard at the end," I lied, to boost his ego. Not that it needed boosting. It needed deflating a little if you ask me. It was his IQ that needed boosting, but I don't think even God would have the ability to boost his IQ.
"I know. I felt your pussy clench around my dick at the end. You're really tight for a whore," he said confidently.
That wasn't my pussy, I assure you, dumbass. Can't even tell the difference between a vagina and a leg.
He rolled off from on top of me onto the bed and began redressing himself. At the same time, I got a rag and began attempting to get his slug juice—I mean semen—off of my recently washed bodice and petticoat.
He suddenly tapped on my shoulder, and I turned to find him fully dressed again and holding out a palm with five shillings in it.
"For your excellent services," he said.
"Thank you." I greedily took the shiny money from his hand and immediately put it in my drawer beside my bed. I needed every penny I could get.
"I will be seeing you again soon, hopefully." He smiled at me and tipped his hat as if he was a perfect gentleman.
"See you soon, Mr. Johnathen." I giggled playfully as though I couldn't wait for our next encounter.
I stuck my tongue out at the door as he closed it behind him.
Once I'd got all his homunculi sperm babies off me, I dressed myself in my usual low cut dress that barely covered anything. I may as well have just wandered downstairs into the bar wearing nothing.
"How did that go?" Cherry asked me as I arrived downstairs, making me jump at the way she just appeared out of nowhere.
"I took him in real deep," I said, "...between my thighs."
We both cackled like witches.
"He's tapped in the 'ed if he don't know the difference between a pair of legs and a wet pussy." She continued to cackle. "Especially after this long!"
"I know. Anyway, I still have my virginity and I've been working as a whore for a year!"
"You're mastered the art of thigh sex," she said.
"I have indeed." I smirked. "Speaking of which, I have another client due any minute."
"You want to carry that on for as long as possible. Don't have sex with no one just for money. Wait for that special person who'll come along and fuck your brains out on your wedding night."
I sniggered at the non-delicate way she put it, until her face took on a regretful frown.
"You don't want to end up like me," she said sadly.
I looked into her eyes and at a face that was undoubtedly beautiful once. But the syphilis had marred her once pretty face with rashes and scars and caused disfiguration.
I had seen worse on the streets of London, but that was what scared me. Knowing that what she had could progress into something far worse, something that with a single glance could give you nightmares for a month.
"Don't dwell," I said. "There's still hope."
She smiled weakly in response. She still held a lot of beauty in her gentle soul, and that shined through when she smiled.
It was only during the silence between us that I noticed just how noisy the brothel was down in the bar.
Old Man Stroud was sat at the piano as usual plinking away on the keys and creating a merry atmosphere for the drunkards at the bar.
There were nine or so men around the room smoking cigars, drinking out of wooden tankards, and playing cards.
I turned back around to say something to Cherry, when all of a sudden, the door to the brothel slammed loudly, shaking the wooden floor beneath my feet.
I whipped my head back around as if my neck was made of elastic.
Walking across the room was the most frightening, but at the same time sexy as fuck shaggy haired, prince of darkness I had ever seen in my 19 years of boring (until that moment) existence.
He slammed a ring-clad hand down on the counter. "Whiskey," he ordered.
Cherry quickly busied herself with filling a glass with the toxic substance and sliding it to him over the counter. He slammed his palm down on the counter again, this time sliding a six pence towards Cherry for the alcohol. "I'll have another one as well," he said, quickly knocking back the liquid and sliding the empty glass back to be refilled.
His voice was deep and velvety as he spoke, with a certain lilt to it that I'd never heard before. His voice alone sent pleasurable pulses throughout my body. But the way he looked... oh my goodness!
He wore a long black leather jacket with a white shirt underneath, the buttons undone and exposing a gorgeous shiny, tanned chest. I got the impression he was hiding from something with the way he pulled up the collar of his jacket and hunched over the bar.
His eyes were dark and searching, hidden beneath the shade of his thick brows as he slowly looked around the area in front of him like a menacing predator that hunts for fun. The structure of his face was very aristocratic. His cheeks were slightly sunken in, revealing the gorgeous sculpted bones of his cheeks, and a strong, chiselled jaw line that looked fine enough to have been carved by Michelangelo. His lips were full and slightly wet from the whiskey, and at that moment, I wanted him all to myself. Every part of him. Some more than others, admittedly.
I smirked to myself at my dirty thoughts, before his shifty gaze locked onto mine like a hungry lion would eye a trapped deer. I was unable to look away. The depths of his deep brown eyes were almost hypnotic.
My lips parted, and a bead of sweat ran down my neck and disappeared between my breasts.
"I also want a whore for the night," he said in that velvety voice. "How much is this one?" He pointed a long, ringed finger in my direction.
"I'm sorry," I said through a lump in my throat. "I'm already fully booked for tonight."
He suddenly stood up straight from his hunched over position at the bar and loomed above us. "I was asking your boss, whore," he snarled.
The expression on his face could curdle milk. Who the hell used his ball sack as a punch bag today?
Cherry gestured towards me. "I'm afraid it's up to Bessie. Like she said, she's fully booked."
He pulled a small fabric drawstring pouch out of his pocket and tossed it at me, where it landed perfectly on the exposed part of my breasts. It was relatively heavy and it hurt as it hit me.
"I think this will more than cover your earnings for tonight."
I opened the pouch, and inside were six gold pieces.
My jaw went slack. This was worth more than I could earn in like a year.
"One room for the night, with you," he growled out.
I bit my lip and nodded my head. I needed this money so badly. I couldn't turn it down.
"Come around this way," I said. "I'll show you to our room."
Cherry sent me a worried look, but I stuck my thumb up to her before disappearing around the corner.
Once back in my room, he immediately ordered me to lock the door and draw the curtains at the window.
It wasn't an unusual request, so I complied.
I was, however, unprepared for what he did next.
A revolver. The killy thing. Thrown into the middle of my bed, followed by a box of bullets and a few loose ones.
"Don't look so scared. I won't hurt you unless you piss me off," he said, unbuttoning his shirt all the way.
Was that meant to put me at ease?
He removed his white shirt completely, and my eyes trained in on the fine, masculine arms that carelessly tossed the shirt into the middle of the bed, and then the deep indents of muscle on his stomach which contorted as he moved.
I had never seen a man like him. How old was he? Early twenties?
"When I have sex, I like it rough," he said, leaning over the bed to retrieve his things. "I will leave your already loose whore pussy sore for days after I've crammed my cock into it countless times, and you will always remember this night as the best in your short, miserable existence."
My eyes felt like organ stops as I focussed on his as he spoke. I didn't want to lose my virginity, but I really needed this money. Was I ready to just sell myself to the Devil himself? There was no way I could use my usual trick with this guy. He would know straight away.
He walked over to me and spun me around fast. I reached out quickly for the wall to stop myself slipping. He kicked my ankles as he stood behind me, in order to spread my legs apart.
His hands were cold against my skin as he began unlacing my skimpy dress. A thrill of pleasure rippled through my body as I felt his groin come in contact with my arse for a brief moment as he leaned forward to brush the dress off my shoulders. It fell to the floor around my feet.
All I was wearing now was a thin petticoat and bodice. His hands again got to work, unlacing the restricting bodice.
My pussy throbbed.
This had never happened before. I'd never had a man that I was physically and sexually attracted to. My pussy had never got wet while doing my job before, and it had certainly never throbbed for attention. What was this man doing to me?
The bodice finally fell to the floor, and a cold, rough finger trailed down the length of my bare back, making me shiver in delight.
One hand coiled around the front of my body and ran up under my petticoat and softly wandered up my legs towards the area that was throbbing badly for this man's attention. The other hand cupped one of my breasts.
Two fingers slowly felt the slick folds between my legs. I gasped and recoiled slightly as he smothered my pussy in my own juices, massaging it with his skilled fingers. Then he stopped and ripped my petticoat down, exposing me completely.
He let me go as I held myself up with the wall and breathed very heavily.
Slowly, I turned around to face my fallen angel.
The first thing I noticed was his massive, fuck off erection that was pressed tightly against his scruffy trousers.
This guy was hung like a freaking champion horse!
He lay down on my bed, still fully dressed from the waist down. Unfortunately.
He beaconed me over with his index finger.
I hesitantly complied, trying to cover my exposed body with my hands. I hadn't got fully naked before and I felt extremely self conscious of my naked self in front of this gorgeous demigod.
His lips seemed to upturn slightly in a small smile as I awkwardly walked over and sat on the bed next to him.
"Lie down on your back," he said, pulling my hands away from my body. "And stop covering yourself."
I discreetly flicked a few locks of my blonde wavy hair over my breasts.
"Why is a woman who has sex for a living so nervous?" he pondered out loud.
Maybe because of the massive revolver sitting on top of my cabinet?! Or the massive dick that you want to wedge inside my virgin vagina!?
Perhaps it was more to do with the fact that this guy was insanely hot, and I was a below-average "whore."
Nah, I'm petrified of his horse-cock ripping me in half.
"Don't worry, I usually make women speechless with my good looks." He smirked.
Cocky asshole.
My face flushed a little. I opened my mouth to retort, but he quickly covered my lips with his, as if he knew I was going to say something cheeky back to him.
His stubble grazed against my soft skin and his tongue swirled circles around mine before moving away, grazing my lip between his teeth as he did so.
Slowly, his hand travelled down my body, over my breasts, past my stomach, and rested in the dripping wet spot between my legs.
He carefully massaged my clit, making me sink my head back into the pillows and gasp.
He seemed to be watching me closely, monitoring my every expression.
I moaned involuntarily in shock and pleasure as he slowly inserted a thick, cool finger into my tight vagina.
My eyelids closed together tightly as he slipped another finger inside me, moving them in and out vigorously and curling them upwards, massaging my inner walls.
He stopped after a short time, leaving me breathless.
"How long have you been a whore for?" he asked.
I was getting sick of the word "whore" very fast.
"A year," I answered, slightly peeved that he'd stopped.
Suddenly, he thrust his two fingers hard inside me and massaged my clit roughly with his thumb.
"Since when does a whore have a pussy this tight?" he growled in my ear, still rubbing my clit. "And since when does she have an intact pussy?"
He ripped his fingers out of me and repositioned his big, strong body so that he was kneeling between my legs.
I struggled for an answer for his question. "I-I..." I stuttered. "I pretend that their dick is in my vagina, but I actually just squeeze it between the tops of my thighs!" I blurted.
I slapped a hand over my mouth. Why did I just tell him that?!
He chuckled lowly, flashing his gorgeous white teeth. "My little Virgin Whore."
Two strong hands gripped my thighs tightly. There was a clear contrast between our skin tones—his was dark and sunkissed, almost exotic, and mine was milky and un-tanned from the lack of British sun.
Before I knew what was happening, his tongue was licking magic circles around my sweet spot.
I writhed at the sensation. I'd never felt anything like it.
His tongue was silky against my tender area, and I was loving every second.
His tongue licked all the way down my slit, lapping up the juices that he was causing, before fucking me with his tongue.
He stopped for a brief second, and then suddenly, his fingers plunged back into my pussy. His tongue continued to swirl skilfully around my clit, bringing me closer and closer to ecstasy.
It was hard to focus on anything except what this gorgeous man was making me feel.
I grabbed onto his black, shaggy hair and arched my back. I was so close to orgasm.
"Don't stop," I muttered, too focussed on the sensation to bother trying to pronounce the words properly.
"Mmh," I moaned, curling my toes.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
"Madam, this is Constable Decker and Sergeant Farlake. We're here with an arrest warrant for a Mr. Leonardo De Leonardis."
I was too busy climbing the hill to climaxhaven to laugh at how ridiculous that name was.
His fingers were in and out of my vagina like a paedophile at an orphanage.
My eyes were nearly crossing at how close I was to orgasm. I think something in the back of my subconscious mind heard the door handle try, but it chose to ignore it.
What happened next was the most devastating and utterly embarrassing moment of my miserable existence. To be able to go back and take a picture of that exact scene would have made for some pretty good laughs though. I'll briefly describe how it looked.
I was there, on my back on the bed, eyes crossed and seconds away from a mind-blowing orgasm, buck naked with a hot as heck guy kneeling between my legs with his fingers up my Mary and a look of horror and shock on his face as he gazed towards the door.
Coming through the door were two police officers, both looking equally as shocked at the sight of the pair of us.
Well, they did force an entry into a brothel. What did they expect to see on the bed? A cooking class?
"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY ROOM UNTIL I'VE HAD MY ORGASM!" I screamed.
Wow, Bessie. Did you need to say that?
One of the police officers, the sergeant I assumed because he had three chevrons on his sleeve, ran over to my man and yanked him off me, handcuffing him immediately. "Leonardo De Leonardis, you are under arrest on three counts of murder, two of armed robbery, one of soliciting sex, and one count of piracy."
"You've got to make a living one way or another, right?" Leonardo grinned sheepishly. "I have rights! I demand a solicitor."
My eyes nearly popped out of my head. Murderer? Robber? Pirate?!
His name was Leonardo De Leonardis.
I burst out laughing.
The other officer threw a blanket over me. "Cover up," he said coldly. "We'll have this place closed down by the end of the week, just you see. Disgusting whore."
I wrapped the blanket around me and stuck my middle finger up at the constable, still pissed off that I hadn't reached orgasm because of these two twats.
They both began to leave, shoving the handcuffed man in front of them through the door.
"My Virgin Whore, we'll meet again some fine day," he said in that deep, velvety voice, turning around before he was dragged off back downstairs. His brilliant white teeth shone as he grinned at me.
I shivered at the thought. He would probably be hung by the end of the week if he was guilty of all those things.
**********
Some time later, after I'd cleaned myself up and got dressed, I went back downstairs to tell Cherry what had happened.
"Look what I got," she whispered, pulling a piece of paper out of her cleavage. She held it out for me to read.
This is to certify that Miss Charlotte Keyes is owed two hundred guineas for the information leading to the arrest of the wanted criminal, Leonardo De Leonardis.
Signed, Chief of Police, Michael Pearce.
"I thought I recognised his face from a poster around the corner, so I went into the station and got the sergeant to come straight away."
She was practically bouncing with glee as she told me.
"I want you to have the money when I've cashed it in," she said.
My mouth dropped open. "No, it's yours," I argued. "You were the one to get him arrested. I wouldn't have recognised him."
"I don't care, I've lived my life. You are young, you need this money to get out of this place and start fresh."
"I won't accept it," I said. "It's yours."
"Then you'll be stuck in places like this for the rest of your life, and when I'm gone, you'll have no one to look after you. You'll be a whore for the rest of your life, contracting all sorts of diseases, just like I did! Don't be a fool. Take the money!"
Later that day, she went to cash in the bounty. She gave me the money and told me to pack my belongings and leave as soon as possible, start a new life and completely forget this one.
I left late that night.
Three days later, as I was reading the last London Times newspaper I'd ever read, the first article on the second page was:
Local Brothel Shut Down by Police. Owner, Charlotte Keyes commits suicide.
The woman of ill repute was said to have been suffering from syphilis when she took a shotgun to her head, after hearing that her business was to be shut down.
I sobbed for the rest of the eight hour journey.
**********
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