New Life At The Victorian Motel

First ever story written here on Literotica after spending a lot of time reading the wonderfully devilish tales on this site. Very open to any and all feedback as I take my first crack. I hope you all enjoy!

This story is lovingly dedicated to the Symphonic Sarah, who played out the chat based roleplay with me that inspired this idea many years ago in the days of the AOL Instant Messenger rooms. She knows who she is and I hope she's doing well wherever she may be and I hope she might even read this someday.

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CHAPTER 1

The sun dipped low in the sky, casting a warm golden glow on my skin as I cruised along the open road. I was, and I guess I technically, still am Catherine Schwartz, or Cat as my friends called me. (These days the name Cat becomes Kitty pretty quick and I'm often told to purr, but on the fateful day I'm telling you about, I'd never even considered such a variation.) On that day, I was a twenty-four-year-old law ambitious student with dreams of changing the world one case at a time. Looking back on that naive girl now, I do envy her for the potential she still had. I was such an idealist. I know a lot of people go into law school with that mentality, but dammit I actually meant it, okay? At least back then, before Cat became Kitty, before everything that I'm about to explain happened to me, I was extra motivated to actually deliver on those big aspirations because my looks made a lot of people think I was nothing more than a pretty face. I suppose the ultimate irony of it all now is that my pretty face and other assets were a big reason why I never fully realized those aspirations and wound up making the world a better place by providing many, many women with the ultimate pleasure. Dreams never really do come true the way we plan them, don't you find?

I'm a slim-built woman with long, wavy auburn hair cascading past my shoulders. My emerald green eyes are framed by thick eyelashes that flutter every time I blink. My semitic features are evident and I have been called a "beautiful Jewish princess" on too many occasions, and rarely as a compliment. (Interestingly enough, that's happened far less so in my new line of work, but we'll get there eventually.)

Back at the start of this sordid tale, I'm on the road, thinking it's all before me. As I drive, I'm wearing a black leather jacket over a white graphic t-shirt, paired with ripped jeans and black boots that give me an edgy look. It's not my usual style per se, but when traveling on one's own, looking more like a roadie for a girly rock band than an accomplished law student is an advantage for a girl like me.

As I continued to coast down the highway, blasting music through the speakers of my beat up old Ford Mustang I inherited from my late, badass Aunt Sarah, my phone chimed with an incoming call. I glanced down at the screen, recognizing the name of my ex-boyfriend, Tyler. I hesitated for a moment before answering. I'd have been happy never talking to him again, but I also knew he'd never leave me alone unless I picked up and gave him that confirmation that it was really over this time.

"Hey, Cat," Tyler's voice came through the speaker. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"No, not really," I lied. We both knew full well that he was interrupting my peace of mind.

"I just wanted to talk to you for a minute, do you have some time?" he asked.

I sighed heavily before replying, "Sure, what's up?"

"I know we haven't talked in a while and things ended pretty badly between us, but I want to apologize for how I treated you back then. I was going through some stuff and I took it out on you. It wasn't fair to you."

I could feel the anger rising within me but tamped it down. "Well I appreciate that, but I'm sorry to say it's a little late now. I don't wish you any ill will but I've moved on, and I encourage you to do the same." Before he could respond I hit the hang up button on my phone and he was gone. Good riddance. In retrospect, I sometimes wonder if I would have been so quick to hang up on him if the events that were just about to transpire hadn't resulted in me never having a heterosexual relationship or sexual encounter with a man again. Oh well, no use wondering. I get more pussy and cash than I can handle these days, so who needs a boyfriend anyway.

As I continued my drive with the top down, my long, wavy brown hair whipped around my face, tickling my cheeks and occasionally getting caught in my bright green eyes that a different patronizing ex used to say always seemed to "sparkle with curiosity." I had never been one to shy away from adventure, and this impromptu road trip was just what I needed before diving back into the grind of my studies.

"Damn it," I muttered under my breath when the engine of my old convertible unexpectedly sputtered and died. The car rolled to a gradual stop, leaving me stranded in the middle of nowhere -- literally. The isolation of my surroundings became more apparent as the wind rustled through the tall grasses that lined the desolate two-lane highway. It felt like I was the only person left in the world. This was further confirmed by there being zero bars on my cell.

I popped the hood of my smoking relic and it was immediately apparent that this thing was not going any further without the help of a tow.

"Okay, Cat, think," I told myself, trying to remain calm. I glanced around the empty landscape, searching for any signs of life or help. A sinking feeling settled in my stomach, emphasizing my vulnerability in this remote area. With limited options, I grabbed my phone and tried calling for roadside assistance, but there was no signal. Of course.

"Great," I sighed. "Now what?"

I weighed my options, ultimately deciding that staying put would be unwise. So, I gathered my courage, covered and locked the car, and began walking towards the setting sun in hopes of finding someplace -- any place -- nearby. Little did I know how much my life was about to change.

"Keep it together, Catherine," I whispered, trying to steady my racing heart. "You've faced tougher situations than this." Remembering the boy's club and various hornets nests I'd had to navigate to be taken seriously at the exclusive law school I was currently working to graduate from. At least out here in this desolate highway, no one was trying to knock my knees out from under me, literally or figuratively.

As I continued walking, a sense of determination settled in. I was going to get through this, no matter what the cost. Unbeknownst to me, the price would be higher than I could have ever imagined. Sometimes I feel like I'm still paying it, other times I stop being a brat and actually listen to my Mistress and I remember that it's actually the most empowering position I could be in. But I digress...

Down the road, in the distance a faint neon glow caught my eye, beckoning me towards it. It was an old-fashioned sign with the words 'Victorian House Motel' painted in red neon against the gloomy sky. The run-down building looked like something out of a horror movie, but it was better than sleeping in my car and so I pressed towards it.

Some fifteen minutes later, I pulled open the heavy wooden door to this strangely named motel in the middle of nowhere. There was nothing Victorian about the house or connected motel's architecture, but Cat was a long way from law school. Being overly pedantic about language was probably not going to help her this evening, I mused to myself.

The old old-fashioned lobby smelled musty yet it felt warm and inviting. Dim lights and velvet drapes created an intimate atmosphere, almost comforting despite its shabby appearance.

An attractive woman with bright red lips and raven hair smiled at me from behind the reception desk, her gaze appraising my every move. "Can I help you?" She purred at me.

"Hey there, my car died out on route 7 a couple miles back and-"

"No cell service huh? Yeah we've heard this before. Unfortunately for you, sweet cheeks, the nearest service station is about 20 miles away and they're closed until about 9 tomorrow, or whenever that lazy fatass sleeps off his hangover."

"Oh uh, that sucks." I said. The glare this woman gave me told me that that was not the right thing to say. I felt suddenly like I was being dressed down as a silly schoolgirl. "Um, I mean..." I trailed off again. I'm not used to feeling intimidated in the presence of another. Words usually find me pretty quick and yet something about the way she was looking at me had me flummoxed.

It wasn't just her I began to realize. This place had a hidden allure, one that I couldn't quite place my finger on. But then again, I needed shelter for the night, and I wasn't about to pass up an opportunity just because it felt... off.

"Do you have any rooms available?" I finally asked, my voice cracking slightly under the weight of my nervousness.

"Only rooms open are for working girls." She said looking away, stating a fact that should have served as a dismissal of the whole thing. Maybe I was tired, maybe I really was naive to these kinds of corners of the world or maybe some part of me...

"Oh, but I am a working girl." I quipped, thinking in that moment this was some sort of local coded language, a joke, banter between the guest and concierge.

"You? A working girl?" She said with a single raised eyebrow.

"Yeah...Just came from law school right now, but working towards bigger and better things, hence the trip that brought me here." I tried to explain. For all the case law I studied, sometimes I really needed to choose my specific words better.

Something clicked for the woman behind the desk and she nodded. "Ah, I see. Getting away from those overzealous johns in that back patting circle jerk boys club are we? Good on you, then." She said and rose from her seat. I nodded in agreement. Her implication and understanding of my occupation went right over my head as she sauntered towards me with a confident swagger. "We have just the thing for you, sweetheart." She locked eyes with me and I suddenly felt myself being sized up like prey. Every inch of her body language suggesting I was some delightful morsel she wanted to devour, rather than a new guest at her hotel.

I was distracted from her bizarre vibe when she slammed a huge document on the counter in front of me and told me to sign it.

"What is all this?" I asked, flipping idly through the document. It appeared to be filled with legalese and fine print, and as an about-to-graduate law student, I really should have read through it all before signing anything, but I had been on the road for hours and just wanted a clean place to crash before getting my car fixed in the morning. Poor choice from a now former law student, but again, hindsight, right? Mistress always says we end up where we're supposed to, and maybe in that moment, some part of me knew...

The woman with the red lips assured me it was all above board but if I wanted to stay here I'd need to sign all of it as it was legally binding. The phrase "do your business" was uttered a few times as she explained things broadly, but I legitimately thought she was talking about showering and other bathroom activities. She was droning on about potential fees, penalties, percentages and things to avoid doing, but I admit I tuned her out because I was just planning on sleeping and getting out early in the morning once the service station opened.

I signed on the dotted line in a couple of places and I'll never forget the victorious seeming smile that washed over her face and the way she licked those red, red lips. She took the documents with a wink and made a cryptic remark about coming to visit me in my room once this was all notarized. I laughed it off as a pleasantry and let her lead me to my room.

I followed her down a long hallway lined with doors, each one leading to rooms where laughter and moaning erupted intermittently. We reached my destination - room 103 - and she slid her key into the ancient lock before pushing the door open.

I let out a soft gasp as I entered the room. The recognizable scent of sex, sweat, and feminine arousal filled my nostrils as I stepped inside. The room looked clean enough, but my nose told me that sex had happened in here, and recently. The air was stifling hot yet intoxicatingly sensual. The room itself was small but cozy, containing only a bed, a single lamp, and a mirror on the far wall. The mirror was covered in lipstick stains and sticky residue, like it had seen its fair share of action. I hesitated by the door, not knowing what to make of this place or what might happen next.

"If you need anything else, just knock on the office door," my guide with the raven hair and striking red lips said before turning to leave, leaving me alone with my thoughts - and my fears.

I took off my jacket, the warmth of the room making my clothes feel hot and heavy. They were suffocating against my skin, yearning to be shed for something softer and more inviting. I kicked off my boots, releasing a sigh of relief as my toes curled into the scratchy carpet that sure didn't feel like it had had a good vacuuming this decade.

I relaxed over the next couple of hours. Fortunately there was a diner a few miles down the road that was on Doordash, so I got some honest grub in me, which was a simple niceness I didn't appreciate enough at the time. As night fell outside, the shadows crept into my room, dancing along the walls and casting eerie silhouettes across the ceiling. I couldn't shake this lingering feeling like I was in over my head somehow. Something about that document, the way that woman with the red lips had related to me felt wrong, but I had no idea why. As far as I could see on the surface, this was just a picturesque albeit cheap and run down motel in the wilderness, nothing more.

Maybe it was the smell of sex that still lingered in the air, or the fact that it was just a few degrees too warm in here, but I wanted to get more comfortable. I pulled off my t-shirt and bra, revealing my naked chest to the dimly lit room. I smiled as I ran my hands over my perky breasts and smiled to myself as the nipples stood at attention, goosebumps breaking out over them. I liked doing that to myself when I was on my own. Leftie was always just slightly bigger than Ms. Right, but I thought the small mole just above my pink, quarter sized areola on Ms. Right gave her enough character to overcome the size difference.

I'd figured out how to do this to myself years ago and it was my fun little super power, activating my tits without fail, I liked to call it to myself. I was proud as my perky and shapely tits stood attention in the dark room. Man, I was hot, and I looked good in that greasy mirror too! I tweaked my pointed nipples and felt the arousal building as that stinging sensation turned to pleasure.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. I jumped, my heart racing in my chest as adrenaline rushed through me. Who could it be? Frantically I searched for the t-shirt I had discarded but it was out of view, so I quickly wrapped the thin bedsheet around myself as I headed to the door.

Before I could get there though, I heard the lock click and it opened on its own. What the hell? A figure stood in the doorway and I felt for the first time, the larger-than-life presence of Bridget "Butch" Sanders, older than me by what could have been decades, rough around the edges, muscular with a square face, a short undercut haircut and deep intense brown eyes. I'd come to learn her name and more about her later, but Butch she was right from the first impression. It was her fierce determination, the way she just oozed dominance as she sauntered uninvited into my room that truly caught my breath. She held me captive with those deep hazel eyes, pinning me down in place even before she made physical contact, which she did soon after.

She didn't ask for permission, but instead grabbed me by the hips and pulled me towards her. Our bodies collided; my soft curves against her hardened muscles under the white t-shirt she wore and the weathered jeans held up by the spiked belt on her narrow waist. Without hesitation or even a word, she pressed her lips hungrily against mine, forcing her tongue inside my mouth. I tried to resist, but found myself no match for her physical strength and force of will, plus I was still desperately trying to hold the sheet up and hide my tits!

Her hands flowed down to my thighs, still adorned with the ripped jeans, teasingly tracing the skin exposed in the ragged torn holes before finally reaching their target. She parted my legs with ease, baring me to her gaze. I felt her grab at the crotch of my jeans and I let out a sound that was half moan of pleasure and half groan of discomfort. I stung from her rough handling but I was also still very aroused.

"Off. Now." Were the first words she said to me. Her hands grabbed for the sheet hiding my torso from her.

"Wait, hold on..." I tried to hold the sheet tightly to my body but I was no match for her strong arms. The sheet fell away and my tits were out for her. She grinned at me hungrily and her big rough hands were suddenly on my sensitive, still goose bumped skin.

"I...I think there's been a mixup. I'm straight and uh, not about all this..." I tried to explain, to give her an out to get out of my room. She was clearly not interested in such a thing though as she pushed me back towards the bed. I remember being very conscious of my tits just being out in the air as I stumbled back. The backs of my knees hit the bed and I flopped backwards with less than zero grace.

She stood at the end of the bed, between my bent knees and regarded my jeans again. "I said off. I'm not paying for you to make me do all the work." She said bluntly as she motioned to my pants again. Paying? What the heck is she talking about? There is clearly some mistake here.

"Wait, paying? You're not paying me at all. I think you've got the wrong room!" I sputter, struggling to catch up with this woman and her lewd, misguided agenda.

She grinned at me and shook her head. "No love, I've got the right room alright." She let out a low chuckle before advancing on me, her eyes twinkling with an unspoken promise. "You're in room 103 and I'm pretty sure I paid for this. Desk chick told me the new girl was here and she knows I always want to be the first to break in new meat." She dangled a small key with the number 103 etched into it from a chain around her neck.

Dread filled my stomach as the realization hit me. This place, this woman, the huge document I'd signed...it was all lining up to one shocking truth. I was stuck in some kind of sex motel and this wasn't just an ordinary mix-up. "But..." I stammered, my heart pounding in my chest.

"But nothing," she cut off quickly, her voice dropping dangerously low. "I don't care if you're new or experienced. I'm your client and that means you do what I want during MY session. I made my appointment at the desk like I always do and it's been confirmed, so this is happening per the terms you've agreed to."

That god damned contract. I really would have made a terrible lawyer.

"Wait," I began, my voice shaky and uncertain. "I didn't know what I was signing when I..." The words tumbled out in a rush, faster than I could think about them. "I swear, I thought I was renting a room...I'm not a uh..." My eyes widened as I found the words. Saying them out loud just confirmed how wrong I'd gotten my conversation with the woman at the desk. "I'm not a Working Girl."

She looked almost amused by my confusion. A crooked grin twisted up one corner of her mouth as she leaned back against the wall, watching me with a predator's interest.

"Is this the new girl's play gambit? Can't say I've run into it before," she replied coolly.

"No," I insisted, desperate to make her understand. "I'm really not supposed to be here."