Friday night, the girls were getting ready. Nervous energy. Janette was even more beautiful than normal. Tonight was the night. Their first client.
Vicki did her best to work her own magic. Tasteful pale makeup. Perfect hair, up and wavy and sophisticated, the blouse with just the right amount of cleavage. Nervous smiles and shifting hands. "Big Leagues."
Janette was doing a final touch on her lipstick. She was gorgeous.
Things were still not right between them, but both girls did their best to ignore the tension. It wasn't fair, but Vicki still resented Janette. Her roommate, who she trusted to keep her safe, had abandoned her to get fucked and blackmailed. It didn't matter that they were both blackout drunk, or that Liz had arranged it.
So much of that night was a blank. Although Vicki couldn't remember the details, she was pretty sure she had gone down on Janette. If anything, Janette had been less overtly sexual around her ever since. The absence left her with a shallow sadness.
Vicki had few moments to dwell on it these days. Moments not spent in class were spent lurking around being abused by Liz.
"Is it stupid that I'm nervous?" Vicki asked.
"No," Janette said. "I'm nervous too."
"I'm not so sure it's even about the sex..."
"Is it that we're breaking the law?" Janette asked.
"Shit I hadn't even thought about that," Vicki said.
"Then what are you worried about?" Janette asked.
The anxiety was real but it took a second for Vicki to put her finger on it. Janette kept touching up her outfit, shifting accessories, looking in the mirror.
"You know that moment, the first time you take off your clothes, and they see you, and that look..." Vicki didn't say it out loud, but Janette knew. The look of excitement or disappointment.
Janette turned her full attention to Vicki. She gave her a warm smile in the mirror. "Yeah," Janette said.
"I guess that's what I'm nervous about," Vicki said.
All the girls in the house were dressed in fine evening wear. It would have been sexy if it weren't so damn clinical. They each had an image to uphold, separate from being young and free and fun.
The four specials didn't say anything, but they knew. The other girls came and went with friends in luxury SUVs. Off to parties. A typical Friday night.
When Vicki's ride came, another black SUV not so different than the others, she found herself on shaky legs walking to the door. This was her new life.
"Not forever," she told herself. Ninety days. She got in the car.
--
Vicki's life had turned bleak ever since Liz started blackmailing her. Beaten. Used. Fucked.
This wasn't worse, but it wasn't better either.
Vicki looked past the man on top of her. His cock slid uncomfortably against her insides, thin hands gripping her tits. She periodically gave a low moan, pretending to be into it while she counted the seconds until it would be over.
She had underestimated how hot Liz was. And Bill. They were both apex beauties in their early twenties. Lithe legs and tight asses. Manicured. Hot. Vicki didn't consider herself gay, or even gay adjacent, but getting fucked by Liz turned her on far more than whatever this was.
Her client was a software engineer and venture capitalist. Vicki could tell he worked at his body, a nerd falling into a schedule with a personal trainer. He was proud of it. Confident. It was fine. OK. Not Liz. Not Bill. He was old, in his thirties, maybe even forties.
Vicki closed her eyes, imagining it was Bill fucking her. He groaned above her. She moaned back in response. It didn't feel right. He was too thin, weak. Bill was powerful and thick.
Vicki stretched her wrists above her, up against the headboard. She imagined Liz was watching, was pinning her arms down, sitting on her face, making her lick pussy while this nerd fucked her. Humiliating. That wicked smile.
"I'm coming," the client said above her.
Vicki fought back a sigh and did her best passionate moan.
--
Hours later, the next morning really, but Vicki hadn't slept. The cum in her pussy made it hard for her to ignore what had happened.
She was a whore.
It meant no more or less than the other times she'd been fucked in the last few weeks. That's what she told herself.
Vicki slept all day. She was aware of Janette coming and going, but didn't check in. She took a long bath and prepared herself again.
No nervous energy. Maybe just dread. Friday and Saturday both belonged to the house. She had another client tonight.
Vicki did her best to wash the cum out. She told herself it was professional courtesy for the next client, not that she was revolting and base.
--
Saturdays at the house were much more subdued. Many of the girls were gone. Vicki checked in with the other specials. Few words were spoken.
Janette seemed fine, happy even. Kim and Haley less so, although nothing was obviously wrong.
Vicki had been lying to herself. She had convinced herself that if she could get through the hazing and the torture, that it would be OK, that she liked sex, even with rich strangers.
Her sister Sara had fond memories of her time here.
Vicki couldn't lie anymore. This wasn't for her. She closed her eyes and sighed.
A deep breath. Then another.
She would do this. Grind it out.
--
The client was nervous excitement. Another thirty-ish nerd getting his shit together.
They had a beautiful meal in a restaurant Vicki was a decade away from affording. Awkward laughter and excessive wine. Both of them knew where this was going, and neither of them were comfortable.
His apartment was on the twenty-ninth floor. Not the penthouse, but it still cost millions.
"I want to see you," he said. They both knew what he meant.
As Vicki took her clothes off, she could feel the warmth of his lust. It took the edge off more than the wine. At each step along the way, she made eye contact. He nodded her on, step by step, until she was completely naked.
Pale skin, full breasts, soft stomach and wide hips. She was recently shaved. Goosebumps rose on her skin, and she suppressed a shiver.
"You are so beautiful," he said. And he meant it.
Then they were kissing, Vicki naked, Client fully clothed. He lead her to his bed.
The sex was awkward. He kept his clothes on a little too long. Foreplay and kissing were wonderful when it was with your boyfriend, but with a stranger it was bad. Vicki wanted to get it over with.
Eventually he got his clothes off and started fucking her. Missionary. Within moments, he said "It's not working."
He pulled out, his cock slick and half hard.
"Did you come?" she asked.
"No," he said. "Just the wine I guess. Can you get me hard again? With your mouth?"
Vicki came to terms with her reality. She was a whore now. Bought and paid for.
Vicki slid down to his cock, stroking with a soft touch while she ran her tongue across it. It tasted like (now familiar) pussy. Her pussy.
She was bent over his crotch, her butt pointed toward his face. Vicki's asshole and pussy were open and on display. "Little late for modesty," she told herself.
Vicki took his cock in her mouth, trying to ignore how disgusting it felt, how disgusted she was with herself. The Client was so nervous and awkward. He had asked her to go down on him, which should have been a refreshing change of pace from being ordered around by Liz.
He wasn't bad looking, and he was nice, but it wasn't working. In the worst of times, when she was eating Liz's ass or getting fucked by Steve, she was turned on. All the times Liz had humiliated her by stuffing her fingers in Vicki's pussy-- every time she had been wet.
Tonight, nothing.
Vicki spent a half hour teasing his cock, sucking, nibbling, stroking. It got hard, but not hard enough to fuck her. Each time it was awkward, she wanted to stop but could see the expectation in his eyes.
A half hour is a long time to spend sucking cock and licking balls, dealing with expectations and excuses. It was worse than anything Liz had done to her.
