Everyone noticed Derran when he entered the whorehouse. He was used to this; to them staring and whispering amongst themselves; to the standard reactions of awe, amusement or fear. People noticed him wherever he went. It was hard, he knew, not to notice someone who was over eight feet tall.
His mother had been a Mountain Giant, that declining race of people who were still cast as the monsters in children's stories, even in these so-called enlightened times. She had been eleven feet tall, a classic Giantess with a terrible temper and a monstrous appetite for all types of carnal pleasure. His father had been human, by all accounts a mild-mannered man and not even particularly tall at five feet ten inches. It was far from unheard of for Giants to take human lovers, of course, but it was rare for those unions to produce offspring.
He had earned a great deal of money this harvest, even by his standards. It was easy for him to do so; thanks to his ancestry he had the strength of at least three regular men. Since he had come down out of the mountains as a young lad of eighteen -- ten years ago now by his reckoning -- he had done every type of heavy work on the various farms in this part of the valley, including pulling the plough for Farmer Jared once when his horse had been taken ill. Those who knew him well knew that he was honest, hard-working and that, unlike many human farmhands, he did not take liberties with the daughters of the households he worked for.
Not that he didn't have urges, of course. That was why he was here. He had never paid for it before but he was becoming desperate. On the few occasions he had ever managed to persuade a woman to get over her fear of being crushed by his enormous body, or of becoming pregnant with a part-Giant baby, or her assumption that his tool would be too much to handle ("We should all have such problems," Jared had said drily when he'd told him that one), the experience had been somewhat marred by the ill-conceived glint of fear in her eyes and the tension it produced in her body. Had he been a true Giant, he often thought dejectedly, that would only have added to his pleasure. But he was tired of women being afraid of him and he thought that maybe, a whore might not have the same qualms.
The madam of the establishment, a plump little redhead who he guessed to be around forty, silenced the giggles of the youngest whores with a stern admonishment of "Girls -- be nice to our guest." She glided towards him, smiling winsomely.
"A good evening to you, sir," she said warmly. "I am Madam Elise, and welcome to my home. Please come and sit by the fire and warm your bones on this cold night." She ushered him towards one of the large overstuffed chairs near the hearth, pretending not to notice as he flinched away from the beams in the ceiling on route. "A glass of wine to relax you, perhaps? A bite to eat, and get to know some of my girls?"
"Thank you," said Derran quietly. There were no other men in the saloon, but he could hear distant moans of pleasure and rhythmic bumping noises that suggested some rooms were currently occupied. When the wine came he gulped it nervously, and made a face; it was terribly strong and sweet, a cheap brew that clung to his palate. Nonetheless he drained the glass, and looked around at the girls.
Most of them were very young, not more than nineteen or twenty, with slim girlish figures clad in brightly-coloured, tight-fitting dresses with daring slits in the skirts that showed their stockings and impossibly lacy garters. A couple of them had their tits out, their little pink nipples thrust skywards by the necklines of their dresses. One of them, a blonde with pouting red-painted lips, settled herself on his lap and gave him a knowing smile far older than her years.
"My, my," she said coquettishly. "You're a lot of man, aren't you? Girls," she said over her shoulder, "I think we could fit at least three more of us on this gent's lap."
"Only because our arses aren't the size of yours, Katrice," said one of them teasingly, prompting a gale of laughter from the assembled company. Derran smiled; he had never witnessed this sort of banter amongst women and it was very refreshing, far more so than the dreadful brew he'd been served. The blonde girl stuck out her tongue. "You watch your cheek, Mariel," she said.
Mariel smiled wickedly. "Three more, you say?" she asked. "Chalisa, Sheri -- come on."
Before he knew what was happening, all three of them had joined Katrice on his lap, two to each leg. Much laughter ensued, as if this was the most hilarious thing they had ever done. The warmth of their bottoms radiated through his clothing and he was suddenly aware of just how much female flesh was on display and within easy reach; however, he was unsure of the protocol and did not want to be too forward for fear of being ejected from the place. One of them, the one called Sheri, whispered in his ear, "These tits were made for sucking, sweetheart."
Emboldened by alcohol and lust he bent his head and ran his tongue lightly over the top of her breast before giving in to the urge to engulf her nipple with his mouth. The girls cheered, and he suckled harder as his hand found another breast, possibly Mariel's. He was becoming painfully erect already. He hoped it wouldn't be too long before he would be permitted to take one of them off and fuck her. Or maybe even two of them...was that allowed? It would probably be expensive if so.
Just then a man appeared, accompanied by a tall, curvy dark-haired lady who looked somewhat older than the girls sitting on him. He looked at Derran and grinned. "You lucky dog," he remarked. "My castle for such legs as yours."
"Which of your many castles would that be, Leon?" teased Chalisa. But Derran barely registered the laughter this time. His attention was fixed on the woman with Leon.
In spite of her dark hair she had creamy-pale skin, apart from a slight flush to her cheeks presumably from exertion, and large eyes of such a deep green that he was reminded of fir trees and holly. She wore a gown much like the other girls, except that it was made of a dark red material and did not have any trimmings. He guessed her to be about thirty, maybe thirty-five, and she was very tall for a woman -- at least six feet at a guess. Her eyes met his and he caught a flash of fire as she looked him over. She smiled -- not the big, come-hither smile of the other whores, but a small knowing smile that hinted of more practised pleasures than her brash young colleagues could hope to bestow.
Derran smiled back, suddenly shy -- and yet he knew that he had to have this woman, even if it cost him all of his hard-earned coin.
"Madam," he said politely as she saw his empty goblet and came over with the wine flagon. "May I -- may I have the pleasure of that lady's company?"
He indicated the gorgeous brunette who was still standing in the archway that led to the rooms, still looking at him, and still smiling that beguiling little smile. The four girls on his lap, sensing that they were not going to be needed here much longer, were now removing themselves one by one and transferring their attention to another gentleman who had just been shown in and was sitting in one of the other chairs.
"In that lady's case it is her decision," said Madam Elise. "Estara is, shall we say, not one of the common number here. She is an extremely accomplished whore who has worked for me for many years, and her time does not come cheaply. If she accepts you, it will be forty-five silver coins for as long as she chooses to entertain you -- so you had better be prepared to give as much as you receive if you want to get value for your money!"
Forty-five silver...that was certainly a high price. But Derran had it to spare and if she made good on the promise contained in that smile, it would be worth every coin.
Madam looked enquiringly at Estara, who nodded briefly. Derran counted out the money into Madam's outstretched hand, still gazing at his soon-to-be partner for the evening, taking in her narrow waist and generously rounded hips and her full, firm breasts. As she walked towards him, her pelvis swayed hypnotically and her long tapered legs were exposed in all their glory by the outrageous slits in her skirt. Hunger for her coursed through him, and on a whim he added five more silver coins to the pile in Madam's hand.
