My name is Greta Klein, and I am a sex slave. You heard that right...a sex slave. I foolishly got 'hired on' as a Charites, or Ka-ree-tess, a handmaiden of Aphrodite, here at Aphrodite's Arms, the most exclusive prostitution club in the entire world, located smack in the middle of the Nevada Desert. I don't even know where I am exactly, but that doesn't matter right now.
What matters is that I just got sexually tortured by a very wealthy American entrepreneur, a man by the name of Arron Hoke. I had always fantasized about Mr. Hoke, had masturbated to visions of him laying me down in his summer penthouse and ravishing my young body, but those fantasies had all been destroyed after the torture he'd just put me through. He had put me in some kind of device that I call the 'exercise machine', bound me in there so that I couldn't move, and then he tortured me with various toys while he fucked me. True, I was hired to have sex with him, but...I had expected that sex to be very different than what it had been. For one thing, I had expected it to be pleasurable, not something that caused me to break down and cry.
I'm a blue-eyed, twenty-two-year-old white girl, five-five, one-hundred and thirty-eight pounds, with an hourglass figure, C-cup breasts with big brownish-red nipples, a very bald pussy, and a somewhat big, heart-shaped butt. I had long, curly black hair before I was recruited, but now it was cut in a short, short dyed-blonde pixie cut, something that fit my new persona as 'Ariadne', or Arie-odd-knee, the utterly pure one.
But by the way my three Hermes, my suitors for the night, had just violated me, especially Mr. Hoke...I did not feel even remotely pure.
I had been recruited by Kennedy Jackson, a young African-American woman the same age as myself, a young woman who had already graduated from Aphrodite's Arms. No woman could serve here longer than a year as a Charites; that was the rule of the Olympians, the rich and powerful owners of this establishment. Kennedy had graduated from this place and now worked for them as an Horae, or Ohrr-riss, a handler, trainer, and recruiter for the Charites.
As a college student going into secondary education, someone who had always heavily frowned upon prostitution, you might wonder why I let Kennedy recruit me. Well...I was paid one million dollars to work here for a year, and my school education was paid for on top of that. That incentive, along with Kennedy's charm, persuasion, and heartfelt insistence, convinced me to come here and prostitute myself for one entire year.
Now I was deeply regretting it. I had not been told anything about this place prior to coming here, so I did not know about the insane number of rules I had to follow, nor did I know that I would be nude the entire time here, nude for an ENTIRE year, and that's...not as fun as it sounds. I only get to wear a little collared white bowtie and a pair of white soft-felt slip on shoes, white to go with my persona as Ariadne, the Utterly Pure One. I was only allowed to wear a thong when I was on my period. I wasn't even allowed earrings, but I would be receiving eight silver diamond rings to wear, but they would not be going on my fingers. No, those would be going down below, six in my labia and two in my clitoral hood. I was not looking forward to those piercings, either.
The birth control they used here, the Olympian Ambrosia, was cutting edge to where it was one thousand percent effective, but it did not eliminate my monthly, and as irritating as that was, it was nothing compared to the greatly increased sex drive it gave me. I was constantly horny on this stuff, constantly needing to masturbate or fuck in order to cease my overwhelming libido.
But it was the rules that were screwing me over now. Anyone who broke a rule got a mark, and two marks meant you went up on stage in the stocks. That was six hours of constant ball-gagged fucking by any and all Hermes who wanted to fuck you in your pussy and ass for free. They formed a line on stage once you were in the stocks, and then they ran a train on you, cumming in one of your holes and then walking off in order for the next one in line to violate you. I don't know what it's like to be up there, but thanks to another Charites, a young white woman named 'Medeia', I was about to find out. She had tricked me into breaking the rules, and stupid me had fallen for her act twice. I was going up on stage and in the stocks on Thursday night. My debut had been tonight, Tuesday, so that meant I only had one day to rest and relax from the savage fucking I'd just taken minutes ago by Arron Hoke.
Needless to say, I was broken now, because I didn't want to go up in the stocks. I had already been in Arron Hoke's torture machine, and I really didn't feel like going up on stage to have a train run on me for six hours. Hoke's machine had made me break down and cry, and though I did not think the stocks were worse, that didn't mean I wanted to suffer them. For one thing, I saw another Charites, a young white woman by the name of Chloe, up in the stocks, and it did not look like she had enjoyed it or was still enjoying it. The last time I'd spotted her, she was still being fucked even though she had passed out. The thought of that made me cringe in fear.
Now I'm here in the dressing room with Medeia sitting across from me with Kennedy at the servants' hall entrance. Kennedy had just given me my second mark for mentioning the real name of the Hermes that had just tortured me, Arron Hoke. Yes, Kennedy just gave me my second mark, and she was not happy.
I looked over to my mentor and friend as I sank into severe depression within my own red-cushioned swivel chair. Kennedy Jackson was taller than I, about five-ten, the same height as Medeia, and she had dark chocolate skin with long black hair that fell around her shoulders. Her name here was 'Callisto', which meant 'most beautiful', and she definitely lived up to that description. She had on a beautiful red sequined dress to show off her hourglass figure and C-cup breasts, though she was a little thinner than I.
Right now she was angry, but not at me. Her attention was fixed squarely upon Medeia, as was her wrath.
"That's it," she scowled. "You're done."
"What?" asked Medeia in confusion.
Medeia sat across from me in her own red-cushioned swivel chair, and she was just as nude as I was, though her bowtie and shoes were black rather than white. Her name meant 'cunning', and she fit that description to a T.
She was five-ten like Kennedy, but she was lithe and athletic rather than voluptuous like Kennedy or I. She had a sharp and angular face that was very beautiful, with startling green eyes framed by long curly black hair set up in a pony tail, but she had small breasts, only B-cups, with small brick-red nipples in the centers of them.
Right now her legs were spread for me to show off her bald pussy beset with six black diamonds inset within six silver rings. This was something she had done the last two times I'd had the misfortune to run into her. Unfortunately for her, though, her little attack against me had set off our Horae, because Kennedy was all rage in a bottle now.
"You heard me," hissed Kennedy, her dark eyes flashing at Medeia in unmitigated hate at that moment. "You...are...done...I have tried and tried to work with you on this, but you have finally pissed me off, Medeia...You shouldn't have fucked with Ariadne...not her...not Ariadne...That was the last straw...I'm going to the Olympians. I have to put Ariadne up on stage now, but I'll make damned sure you go up there as well."
"WHAT!" cried Medeia as she stood up in shaking disbelief.
"That's right," nodded Kennedy, a deep and unforgiving scowl on her dark face. "You're going to be right next to her on Thursday night...I'll make sure of it."
"Y...You can't do that!" stammered Medeia. "I haven't done anything wrong!"
Yeah, she was feeling fear now. I could see it all over her sharply beautiful face, her nude body trembling a little in that obvious fear. Kennedy had previously told me that Medeia had suffered through the stocks in her first month here, and that experience had traumatized her for some reason. Kennedy and the others had been in the stocks, and though they said it had been trying, it was nothing particularly bad, just exhausting...but for some reason it gave Medeia PTSD, and now she took out her rage and anger over it on the new hires, I and probably Chloe being the latest victims to suffer her wrath.
"That's one additional mark," spat Kennedy. "You don't talk back to me...You now have one mark AFTER you serve your time in the stocks on Thursday, and you WILL serve your time in the stocks. I'm going to make sure of it."
Medeia's startling green eyes watered with tears, and then those drops rolled down her face in silent agony, something that even I couldn't stand to watch, and I was the one she had actually wronged. It actually got to me, that look, that look of devastation upon her teary face, and that surprised even me. It was genuine and honest suffering I was watching in real time, and I...I couldn't stand it.
"Y...Yes, my Horae," choked out Medeia.
She was clearly devastated, and as unhappy as I was over what she had done...I couldn't stand to see her suffer like that. I guess in the long run I really did fit the persona of 'utterly pure', because I did something that no one else would have probably done in that situation...I defended her.