A Work Of Fiction.
Chapter 5 - The Itch
Terri :
I come to, startled. Senses are haywire. I'm on a bed. I'm in Sarah's clothes. Did I pass out on the bed with a punter?
Fuck! I'm scared!
Then I see Tom by my side, rubbing my arm.
I must be home.
"C'mon, babe. You have to get up. It's your Saturday in."
Fuck! Actually...Double Fuck!
I'm feeling.....nothing....then...sore all over.
My head hurts. My groin. My bones. My eyes. My throat. God, my throat! Did I really smoke that much? Some parts are slowly coming back to me.
Tom, bless him, gets up to make me a very strong coffee. I need that. To kickstart my head.
Drank. Then shower and dressed. The makeup that Candy fixed me with, sliding into the shower as I scrub.
I feel dirty. Very dirty.
A lot of gunk comes trickling out of my vagina.
Getting dried off, letting my hair dry naturally as the sound of the hairdryer would be much too loud for me today. Then dressed. Much more conservative makeup for me today.
Tom told me, as we were getting into the car, that he fucked me in Sarah's clothes this morning and that he loved how my vagina felt when he was inside me. I was just out of it. I never knew.
Not sure if I was angry or surprised about that.
Anyways, he drove me over to the store to start my day and told me that he'd pick me up after I finish work at 1 pm. I kissed him goodbye, as normal.
Ready to start my working day. My real job. Really not feeling it.
Martika :
I got a message from Tom saying that he was up and out and that he would drop off Sarah's clothes, that of course his wife wore, at the brothel.
I told him I wouldn't be around but that Candy lives there so she'd be able to take in the shit.
And that's what the fucker did, also all the jewellery too.
Terri :
Carmen and Matt were working alongside me today. Carmen reflected that I...looked like crap', well...thanks!
I had a few big, strong coffees to help me through the day. My head was still quite scrambled and some customers had quite, let's say complex issues, to work through.
What would have come to me quite quickly did take a little more processing time today for me.
Thankfully, the shift came to an end and I said my goodbyes, picking up my mobile phone and switching it off of silent. Policy is to have it on silent, preferably in a locker, at work so not to cause any distractions.
So, I switch it up and I see a message from a number. Turns out it's Martika, the Brothel Madame, alongside a few photos. How the bloody hell did she get them?
One had me over the cocaine tray taking a line, one was me all slutted up - but, zooming in, you could see my eyes were glazed over, and the final one was me taking some cock from a punter. It looked like the first punter, that Tom that I did!
Alongside that was a note.
"Hey bitch. Thought you would like some mementos of yesterday. You earned over £1k for me with all the fucking that you did. I think you're a natural. See you next month. M xx"
I was shaking.
How on earth did she get my number?
Tom was parked a few minutes away. I got in the car, cradling my phone, still shaking. Just a complete loss of what to say. We started driving.
Tom asked me what was up. It just spewed out of me. I opened my phone and passed it to him, as we hit some lights. He looked and read the message.
"Nice photos." he stated, looking towards me and grinning before, brake off as the lights hit for go, and looking towards the road again.
He then told me, as he was waiting for me to finish up with my last punter - god, was he really there when I did that? Fuck! - and he was chatting to Martika when I was stoned, he put my phone number into her phone.
Why did he do that?
Martika :
I thought that it would be nice to send bitch a little message of how much I appreciated her. Credit where credit is due, that slag was really into it. Took lots of cock and made me a mint. That pussy is a goldmine! So, some appreciation and some photos to remember her day with us.
Good for blackmail too, if needed, but I think the bitch got way more than she bargained for. She really took to it.
Terri :
We drove home with the radio on. Not really talking much. I was still sore all over. My brain hurt. My throat felt better though. Guess you have to be thankful for small mercy's.
When we got in, all I wanted to do was have a nice relaxing bath and then snuggle on the sofa with Tom.
We talked about what had happened, what I could recollect anyways. It was very free and open. Our conversations always have been about sex. But it was emotionally connected tonight....caring.
Was I glad I went through with it? It was such a rush. I was still processing it all. Then, add on top of the whole emotional context of it all, there was the chemical element - drink, drugs, cigarettes - that I had never done in such quantities before - and then the whole physicality of rutting for, what? 18 hours?
I felt....deliciously....broken.
It was addictive and, in a way, the whole thought of 'play dates' again was just...hmmmmm...hard to put into words. Kinda like having your first bike and those 'play dates' were the stabilizers. Y'know, April? Hooking? Selling myself for money...albeit money that I wasn't getting...my Madame was...that was the real thing and it's hard to go back again once you've done that.
I just remember something that Donna told me...
"Once you've sold yourself you're a whore for life. You can never get away from it."
What was Tom's thoughts?
He liked the thought of his wife as a prostitute and he was very excited to see me in all of Sarah's getup. He was sad that he couldn't see me with my punters getting banged, but he understood the reason behind that. He did love fucking me once I got home, although he was quite worried about how I was.
"I S'pose it's something that they get used to..." he answered, stroking my hair as I lay on his lap, as I told him all about the cocaine that I was doing.
Tom asked if I would be doing it next month too, as Martika expected.
"I think I will be, if that would be alright with you?" I asked.
"Alright? Hun, it's more than alright. I love you doing this. I love that you enjoyed yourself. End of the day, I love YOU, and that's all that matters, right?"
"...an' I love you too, babe!" I answer.
"As long as you don't fall in love with any of your punters..." he throws me a delicious grin.
"No chance of that! They're just between my thighs to cum and then bugger off!"
We made love that night....again, tenderly at first. Tom wanted me to talk like I did in the brothel, like I had some 'backstory' that I told the punters if they asked. That my name was Chastity (yeah, really?!?), that I had worked the streets for the last 10 years with another pimp, that I met someone and married him and stopped all that 'sordid' life....that is, until he lost his job....
...again, I felt him grow in girth....and speed up....increasing his stamina..
"I love fucking my whore wife, my prostitute..." he'd say, over and over again, with each thrust...
...and then my husband got his job back, and I didn't want to stop.
The punters? They bought the story. Guess they don't care, right? You're just a hole for them...and it turns Tom on too. So much that me bucks me wildly as he is drained completely.
He dismounts, lies by my side...in breathless union....
We fall asleep...
