Chapter 1
Sluttage
Some women are born sluts
Some achieve slutdom
Some have slutdom thrust upon them
I could be called an undercover slut.
Some people have suggested that growing up in a brothel sowed the seeds of my slutdom. I was in fact the last of my group of friends to lose their virginity. I do have a fairly strict definition of being deflowered: it was a man's penis entering my vagina. Darren was technically a man at twenty-one and his little prick was technically a penis. I do not count: sex toys, no matter how lifelike, foodstuffs, toes, fingers and hands, sports equipment or lightbulbs (yes it was energy saving and yes, I did glow in the dark, but no, I am never ever doing that again). It is surprising just how short and tight my vagina remains. I do have exquisite control over my pelvic musculature.
I also do not count anything that I may have put in my mouth or accepted up my arse.
The brothel in which I grew up was disguised as a South London hotel built at the end of the nineteenth century. It was set back from a busy road behind a screen of plane trees and a high wall. Most of the thousands of commuters who passed by daily did not even notice its presence. It has been owned my family since the nineteen sixties, as has the terrace of houses to the side.
As far as anyone knows it has always been a brothel and skilled management rather than luck has kept it that way. Its heyday had been in Edwardian time when it was claimed that every third house in London was a knocking shop. Things went slowly downhill after that and by the late fifties rooms were rented to the local tarts on an hourly basis; those rooms that still had glass in the windows.
In 1964 my great grandmother was a successful madam in Stockholm but had to leave Sweden in a hurry due to some 'legal difficulties'. Her sister already lived in London and the old hotel was ripe for restoration. The owner had an unfortunate accident. Great grandma had a lot of cash and rebuilt the hotel and the business, largely employing her own family, including my nan and her sisters. The sixties were starting to swing and high-class hookers were much in demand as well as late night drinking and gambling. Great grandma introduced such innovations as the invisible guest and expensive service contracts with local companies owned by shell companies. Money went into the correct local pockets and my nan married her richest client, the scion of a newly arrived immigrant family who had moved from smuggling in the Mediterranean to the rapidly expanding security industry.
Management passed down the generations and my own mother is the current manager/ madam.
Nobody questions coming and goings at a hotel nor it seems the relative lack of vacancies. The invisible guest is still essential and he always pays in cash, drinks like a fish and tips outrageously. Regular guests are well looked after and never suspect that they are cover for major crime. Many shake their heads at Mum's apparent lack of business sense.
"If only you advertised, dear. You could make a fortune."
Mum would smile and say how happy she was with personal recommendations.
The hotel is open for lunches (when most of the staff are just waking up) and has a rather good local reputation both with customers and environmental health who never find so much as a mouse's squeak when they inspect. The chefs and waiters are all ex-cons who are very grateful for the work and repay the trust that my mother has given them. They would not dare do otherwise. They all double as security.
The tall Victorian houses to one side are divided in to flats which are part of the family estate and are rented to carefully selected tenants who are not particularly nosy and appreciate the criminally low rents. Some of the working girls also rent and understand that no business is to be conducted in their flats.
The actual income generated is somewhat different from the income declared to the tax man and finds its way circuitously to Switzerland and Liechtenstein. A hotel is a very efficient enterprise for laundering the proceeds ill-gotten gains.
I was made aware of the existence of the oldest profession at a tender age and accepted it the way other children accept that their parents are politicians or bankers. I was kept safe from any sexual predation but I learnt more than the basic facts of life from the working girls who were extremely kind to my sisters and I.
It seemed natural that I would start working as a maid, waitress and receptionist.
There was a surprisingly large amount of cleaning to be done. I was given the dungeon; one of the least popular jobs.
The dungeon was possibly the finest in town but a lot of bodily fluids were spilt, most of which could start to hum if not cleaned away quickly. I was frequently to be found on my knees or up a ladder with a soapy sponge in one hand and a UV lamp in the other rather like a crime scene investigator. Semen everywhere. Then there was the equipment and paraphernalia; ropes, manacles, gags, chains, whips, leather and rubber wear, floggers, paddles, dildoes, clamps and what were referred to as 'miscellanea'.
The three domina wore a lot of studded leather and liked it kept clean and supple. If I failed I was liable to get a slap across the back of my thighs. Unfortunately, I rather enjoyed that. The dungeon fascinated me and I fantasised about what went on down there (I was too young to be allowed to watch) and even more about how it would feel to be on the receiving end of serious discipline.
A successful brothel had to be run like most businesses but with an obvious large amount of secrecy. Nan was quite happy to share her wisdom with all of us kids. The most important point was not to attract attention.
This involved not being greedy, paying the taxman, the local police and the local crime family. The clientele was acquired by recommendation and had to make appointments. Rampant illegality was not allowed; in particular no underage girls and no trafficked illegal immigrants. Minor recreational drug use was tolerated. Nan had four children and ten grandchildren, all of whom worked in the family business to a greater or lesser extent. The other girls were treated like family. A few lived in but most lived out. Each girl had considerable control over when they worked and what they were prepared to do. They all had 'official' jobs as maids, receptionists or waitresses and paid tax. The Revenue did not care that the hotel had so many staff. The considerable cost of being a student in London provided another source of attractive young talent, who were able to supplement their loans in a physically safe environment. Quite a few lived in Nan's flats. It was made very clear that they were not to entertain clients at their flats.
I have little memory of my father which is probably just as well. He was tall, blonde and blue eyed and so managed not to dilute the family Nordic features. He was asked to leave when his filthy habits became known. He is currently doing time for said habits.
My mum was keen to enforce her moral code; particularly the importance of not mixing business with pleasure. Sex education was quite practical. My mum was the oldest of three girls and all my aunts worked for the family firm and did their best to gently corrupt the younger members. It was a rite of passage, just after our fourteenth birthday to be marched by Mum down to the GP to be put on the pill. I was far more interested in girls and one in particular and I only really messed about with boys when she told me to.
I have two older sisters. We have all inherited my Nan's Scandinavian height, blonde hair and fine features.
I am not exactly beautiful. I am six foot three. My arms and legs are too long and I look lanky. I have to be careful not to stoop. My shoulders are too wide and my hips too narrow. I compensate by playing a lot of sport and lifting a lot of weights which leaves me athletic rather than butch. I have straight, corn coloured hair, a straight nose and light green eyes. My thin lips make me look bitchy.
I have tiny tits. I had toyed with the idea of implants but I liked not having to wear a bra and the idea of them bouncing around when I played netball was a turn off. I love netball and I am good. I also run and kick-box.
