-Money on the Side, Chapter 2.
Thursday was a tough day. After my audition for the job at the party house I had, as instructed, not masturbated for the entire week, and by the time my last class Thursday ended, my balls were too full, straining against my jeans, and my cock had not been fully limp for the entire day.
I packed my stuff in my backpack as instructed, just casual clothes to lie around in, and a pair of swim trunks for the pool and Jacuzzi.
I left my dorm and walked across campus in a misty rain that left bright halos around the streetlights and soaked my thick brown hair with cold water. And so I floated off campus that night, a lone specter wandering in the swirling pink mist, my mind burring with images from my audition, and my heart pounding at the thought that my new job--my new life--as a prostitute in a gay brothel-- was about to begin.
The bus line that ran into the city was all the way on the edge of campus, and by the time I made it there, I was shivering, partly from the cold, but also from the images flashing through my mind. And so I sat, patiently on the bus, with full balls and tingling nipples, waiting for it to work its way downtown through the wet grey maze of the city.
Finally it deposited me at the city center and I made my way to the appointed corner just as the limo was pulling up. I didn't notice it until it stopped. No Flashy white stretch, just a discreet charcoal grey with blackout tinting on the windows. It looked like old money. There was no driver to open the door, just brief honk of the horn, and I let myself into the back. The partition to the driver was up, and there was nothing to see out the windows, but it was warm in there, and that was enough. On the seat was a note. "Take off all your clothing, and put it in your pack. The ride will be about two hours"
It was a relief to be out of my wet things, and once they were gone, stowed safely with the rest of my day-to-day life in the little backpack, I felt transformed. I stretched out on one of the long bench seats, my bloated balls and cock lolling on my thigh, savoring the warm black leather world around me, insulating me from the cold wet night. I felt elegant. To know that I was the new, prized piece of ass for this thing, this money laden cult of man sex, that my mouth, cock, balls and ass were now owned, waiting to be whored out for the satisfaction of the most perverse of our fair city made me feel oddly.... at home. A geisha. A harem girl. Warm and pink, flesh to be devoured. I was delighted. This was where I belonged, a naked pearl in an oyster of luxury, waiting to be harvested.
I floated along in my dreams until the car rolled to a stop and I heard the sound of a garage door closing. The door opened, and there stood Jake, in the same robe he had worn at my "Interview" earlier in the week.
"So Baby, welcome to the farm!" I stepped naked from the limo into a carpeted garage. "been good I see" he quipped, looking at my full balls and throbbing cock. "Yeah, the guys are gonna love you." We walked through a door and past a pool and jacuzzi before heading up to the main floor.
The house was done in classic brothel, rich colors, thick padded carpet and subdued lighting. Jake took me on a walking tour, the fabulous party rooms at each end of the house, with bars, poles and several low padded "sex stages" for putting on shows or entertaining those who liked to fuck publicly.
The second floor boasted a dozen bedrooms, all equally over decorated in themes from honeymoon suite to boudoirs in satin and velvet to dungeon. It was this last room that struck me the most--the china cabinet of toys, paddles, and such, the hanging manacles, and the smell of cum and leather we almost too much for me--and Jake must have noticed. He put his arm around me and whispered in my ear.
"Yeah, I thought you were the type for this. Don't worry we got plenty of tops in here on a weekend, and I got a special look all planned out for your first night that'll drive those hardtops crazy, so chances are you'll get to whore out in here before the weekend's over."
"Now, let's get you on the rack."
Before I could ask what that meant, he led me up to the third floor. Here were bedrooms, tastefully appointed in taupe with pillow tops and comforters. At the end of the hall he pointed out my room, and then led me to the bathroom at the end of the hall. It was a cavern of ice-white tile, and porcelain, and inside stood two naked men in their 20's with brush cut hair.
"This is Darianna and Dereka--They're here to get you clean, trimmed, and ready, then you can crash until party time" Dave led me to a walk in shower with what looked like a gynecologists table in the middle of it. "Hop up"
I turned to the nearest of the men. "Hi, I'm-"
"No." Jake cut me off "no, here you have only a fantasy name, for a variety of reasons, but mostly so you don't introduce yourself to a trick with the same name as his prick boss, or kid, or whatever, and kill the moment. Should be something soft, and a little kinky."
It just popped into my head. "Mercy. My name is Mercy"
Jake grinned. "Man, you're just gonna be a natural born partyboy, aren't you?"
