Alicia's Descent

Alicia, the spoilt 19-year old daughter of a wealthy merchant, has badgered her maid Mari into helping her prostitute herself incognito down by the docks of the city, but the two girls have found themselves unable to return to the wealthy district except via a secret tunnel in the basement of the Haven Club...

*****

Alicia and Mari drew their cloaks more tightly around themselves as they hastened through the dark streets of the Lower City, trying to avoid attracting attention. Night had fallen now and the less savoury denizens of the port were out and about. Away from the main streets, where feeble candles threw dim illumination, were dark alleys where half-glimpsed shapes could be seen, moving, sometimes rhythmically, as whores plied their trade, and thieves theirs. The city's orc population was out and about now, born to darkness and shadows, their bulky, muscular grey-green tusked forms hulked around the streets, about their business, and feral, yellow eyes tracked the two slim forms of the hooded girls as they scurried towards their destination. Alicia had had little enough experience with their race, generally poorly regarded by the humans and elves of the city, and good only for labour and mercenary work. But there were enough half-orcs in the Lower City that they almost formed a species of their own, and occasionally made it to more prosperous and better regarded jobs in the Upper City. One such had been Geoffrey, the half-orc stable boy that her father employed, and who Alicia had discovered earlier today that her maid Mari had been carrying on with. Indeed, Geoffrey had proved to be something of a catalyst; after watching Mari fellate him and then being curious enough to try it herself, her rapidly expanding sexual horizons had led her to this risky venture into the Lower City by night.

The Haven Club was a stout-walled building towards the dividing wall that separated the Upper City, with its wealthy merchants, aristocrats and parks, from the bustle and smell of the Lower City. A solid-looking double door studded with nails was shut in their face. Mari knocked at the smaller door set into one of the larger gates, and a shutter opened, revealing a barred peep-hole through which a suspicious human guard peered.

"What?" he demanded of the two hooded and cloaked young women, in a tone that suggested he would brook no nonsense.

"We seek entrance," Mari gasped. She could see that across the street a rough-looking gang of orcs was watching them, nudging each other and grinning and pointing. She feared for the safety of herself and her mistress. "Quickly, please!"

The guard looked dubious. "Whores are not allowed here," he said, then, grinning, added; "we have our own."

"We are not whores," Mari pleaded. "My mistress and I..."

"We are paying customers, and my father is a very important man," Alicia interrupted haughtily. "Now open this door at once, my good man!"

Her aristocratic tone and facility with giving orders seemed to convince the man that they were indeed what they claimed. "Sixpence," he said grudgingly.

Alicia reached into her corset and fished for the coins that the sailors had given them earlier, passing them through the window.

"Each," the guard added, leering.

Alicia looked despairingly at Mari, and then around at the gathering gang in the street, and, sighing, handed over the rest of the coins, all too aware that they accounted for the entirety of the money that they had just whored themselves for. As they had not taken any coin with them on their trip, not wanting to risk it being stolen, the entrance fee they had just been charged left them at least temporarily penniless. Still, Alicia reasoned to herself - she *did* have wealth, it was just that it was not on her. Her father bought on credit all the time; some kind of deal could be done, she was quite confident.

Bolts were drawn back and the door opened inwards, allowing the breathless women to enter into the hallway beyond with a considerable sense of relief.

"May I take your cloaks, ladies?" the guard asked, now more solicitous.

As she stood there in the warmth of the hallway, Alicia immediately realised their predicament - beneath the long, all-concealing cloaks, they were dressed in maids' outfits - Mari's usual one, and a spare of hers that Alicia had borrowed as camouflage for the day's 'entertainment', and beneath those they wore only white corsets and stockings and very little else, commensurate with their pretence to be whores. And worse - even now, she could still feel warm, sticky blobs of come leaking from her sore and stretched pussy and asshole, smearing her cheeks and running in slimy trails down her thighs to wet her stocking tops, a parting gift from the sailors they had sold themselves to earlier. Both she and Mari also had semen on their lips - she could still taste its salty tartness in her mouth. In conclusion they would, if examined at all closely, be very obviously thought of as little more than the whores they had pretended to be - indeed, if the guard leaned too close she had little doubt he would smell it on them. And yet she had claimed to be a noblewoman: her outfit would surely give the lie to that. She decided that she could not take off her cloak and be caught in such an obvious falsehood, as they would be sure to face trouble for it.

"Ahh... no, thank you!" she said brightly. "We prefer to remain... incognito, in such a place. You understand, I am sure..."

The guard grunted with amusement, but made nothing more of it, turned back to his post and bolted the door behind them, and Alicia and Mari were free to enter the establishment proper.

It was hot inside the main room beyond, especially in their thick woollen cloaks. Rough wooden tables and chairs were positioned haphazardly across the place. At the far end there was a stage, and to one side a bar. Stairs led up to an upstairs gallery, on which doors to rooms could be seen. Skimpily-clad women in corsets, stockings and high heels and some of the tiniest panties Alicia had ever seen conveyed drinks from the bar to the paying customers, who were a rough, unsavoury-looking crew. Many of them, she realised with a start, were orcs or half-orcs, and there were even a couple of their larger cousins present - ogres. A beautiful woman gyrated on stage to exotic-sounding music, pipes or flutes of some kind played by someone who could not be seen. As she moved her sinuous body, she was removing items of her clothing, each one thrown into the audience to a raucous cheer. Alicia was grateful that the action at least distracted the male patrons as she and Mari found an unoccupied booth to one side of the room and slid into its seats.

A petite, eastern-looking woman, almond-eyed and dusky skinned, appeared at their table. She wore a green-trimmed corset and shoes, as well as a green leather collar at her neck. "Good evening, ladies," she said, in surprisingly well-born sounding Common. "What will be your pleasure tonight?"

Mari looked at Alicia, who stared at the waitress coolly. "Wine, chilled, for us both, please," she said, "the evening is warm and I have a thirst."

"Of course," the oriental woman smirked, and sashayed off to the bar, hips swinging, and her long black mane of hair swishing in time with it. A fat orc hand swatted her backside as she passed, and she yelped, but smiled indulgently at its owner as she moved on.

"Mistress," hissed Mari, once the woman was out of earshot. "We have no money to buy drinks!"

"Hush," Alicia told her imperiously. "They will take my credit here, and I am curious to see more before we approach the owner about using this secret passage back to the Upper City that you spoke of."

She began to gaze out at the crowd, beginning to notice that, here and there, women, dressed as the waitress had been, albeit in different colours, were sitting among the patrons. With a start, she realised that she recognised one of them.

"Mari!" she whispered excitedly. "Is that... surely not? But it is! It is the Honourable Nicola White, isn't it? You must remember her - you served her at my 18th birthday last year."

Mari stared, before nodding. "Yes, I believe it must be, Mistress," she agreed, "but..."

The blonde, 19-year old daughter of Earl White was attired like the other girls in a corset (in which her full breasts were straining), stockings and heels, and with a leather collar. Her collar, her shoes and corset were coloured like the oriental waitress, but in a peach colour rather than emerald. And she was sitting in the lap of a large orc, who was pushing a large mug of wine at her scarlet-painted lips, forcing her to drink it. She did so, laughing, but managed to spill some down her neck and into her ample cleavage. Alicia was shocked to see her acquaintance not only dressed like a whore, but with the orc's other hand clearly resting on her upper thigh, and as her scandalised gaze began to make out details, she noticed a pudgy finger stroking at the crotch of Nicola's indecently brief panties, where there already seemed to be a dark patch marking the girl's arousal. With another start, as Alicia's gaze drifted to the next table, she saw an older woman, her own whore garb trimmed with scarlet, surrounded by several orcish admirers, who was clearly the Countess Amelia, Nicola's mother! She too was being pawed under the table, but simply ignored the groping and smiled placidly, flicking her head back and forth to talk to one companion or another, her ponytail of blonde hair swaying with it. Like her daughter, she was amply-bosomed.

Now that she had spotted these two, Alicia looked more closely at the other women in the club. Her gaze moved back to the woman on the stage, the music reaching a crescendo as her items of clothing - these trimmed in pink this time - dwindled slowly to nothing, and she saw that the face of the woman, writhing in some kind of orgiastic abandon in front of a leering crowd of the coarsest denizens of the city, was none other than the Lady Penelope Ward, a wealthy divorcee who had once been a friend of Alicia's mother's. A crowd was beginning to form by the stage and rough, eager hands were reaching up to caress her long, slim legs as she danced. She knelt down to allow them lascivious access to her thighs and the glistening slit of her pussy, moaning above the music as first one grey-green finger, then another slid inside her. Alicia flushed with arousal at the sight and hurriedly looked away, embarrassed on behalf of the noblewoman.

"I tried to tell you, Mistress," Mari was saying. "The Haven Club caters for the wealthy women of the Upper City who wish to play at being whores for a night. That is why there is a secret tunnel - to allow them to move freely between the Upper and Lower City. Its other end is beneath the Imperial Women's Institute."

"And pray tell how you know so much of this, Mari, you incorrigible slut?"

"I worked there for a time, before joining your family, mistress. It was an open secret among the staff there."

As Alicia absorbed this information, she could see Lady Penelope, on-stage, now beginning to gyrate, fucking the fingers that rudely probed her with her fingers, breasts bouncing, her mouth open in an 'O' of arousal, her eyes closed. At the tables, Countess Amelia had an orc's warty hand in her cleavage, probing and squeezing her large, pale breasts, while she let him lick at her face, her mouth open so that his long, beer-soaked tongue could probe inside her delicate, aristocratic mouth. Her daughter Nicola, at the next table, had now discarded her tiny panties and was sitting impaled on a fat, veiny orc cock that disappeared into her sopping pussy, leaning over at the same time to suck eagerly on another, drooling down its shaft, while its owner grabbed her head and forced her down roughly onto his length. A small pile of silver coins had appeared on the table in front of her. Alicia squeezed her thighs tightly together, hot now not just from the heat and her cloak, but from seeing the scandalous activities going on in full public view, as these high born ladies of the Upper City of Haven allowed themselves to be the playthings of the lowest and dirtiest of creatures for a mere handful of coin. What would it be like, she wondered, submitting to such base and lustful animals? Not merely the dirty sailors she and Mari had fucked earlier, but big, bestial, orcs. Her gaze lingered with fascination on the orc cocks that Lady Nicola was riding. They looked huge - bigger even than Geoffrey the half-orc stable boy. Beneath their thick, jutting erections massive ball sacs bounced, full of potent orc seed.

"Your wine, ladies," the oriental waitress said, interrupting Alicia's reverie. Flushed, Alicia snatched one goblet and took a long swig of it, draining half of it in one gulp, while Mari accepted hers more politely and took a demure sip.

"That will be ten silvers," the eastern woman continued. Alicia blinked. Ah, money, yes, of course. She was not used to having to pay for things - usually there was someone else on hand to do it.

"I will pay, but let me talk to your mistress first," she said confidently. "I need to speak to her about... making use of her services."

The oriental woman looked uncertain, but then nodded, and beckoned to one side of the room. Alicia and Mari followed her across there, where a tall woman stood, clearly from the hot southern equatorial zone. She was dressed as the other high-born whores, but her corset, stockings, collar and heels were of jet black, darker even than her ebony skin, and made from some material that glistened in the dim light. She was tall, muscular and athletic-looking, towering over Alicia and her maid, scowling.

"Forgive me, Mistress Onyx," the waitress said nervously, "these ladies wished to speak with you. And... they owe ten coins for wine."

Mistress Onyx slapped the girl casually across the face. "What have I told you about letting newcomers drink on credit, Jade?" she demanded in a growling voice. "You will be punished for this."

"I am sorry, Mistress!"

"Leave us now." The waitress scurried away to serve someone else as Mistress Onyx turned to face Mari and Alicia. "So," she continued. "two cheap whores who can't pay their bill, hm? What do you have to say for yourselves?"

"Mistress Onyx," Alicia began pleasantly. "I may be a newcomer to this establishment, but I can assure you that I am neither a whore, nor cheap." She smiled. "In fact, my father is a man of some wealth in this town. I am a resident of the Upper City, like some others here that I can see, and I am told in strict confidence that there is a passageway here from this establishment to the Upper City. By mischance I have found myself in the Lower City after curfew, and so I would like to avail myself of this passage - for a suitable remuneration of course."

Mistress Onyx snorted dismissively and suddenly pulled Alicia's cloak apart, revealing the maid's uniform underneath, borrowed from Mari.

"You look like a couple of maids to a rich bitch slumming it to me," she said scornfully. "Whoring yourself to supplement the pittance your tight-fisted mistress pays you, eh?" Both Mari and Alicia blushed at this, for different reasons.

"I... I travel incognito, it is true," Alicia stammered, finding this woman's physical presence and bearing very imposing, "But I can assure you that..."

"There is a price to pay," Mistress Onyx continued, ignoring the noblewoman's protests. "And here at the Haven Club, many such prices are paid in flesh."

She gestured to a large hourglass on the counter top, then smiled sardonically.

"If you both spend a turn of that glass in the Stalls, I will forgive your debts and allow you back to your precious mistress before midnight, so that she does not notice you missing and call out the Watch. It is either that, or we hand you over to the Debtor's Prison. Your choice."

"Well," Alicia blustered, "under the circumstances, I suppose that your offer is not unreasonable. What are these stalls that you speak of?"

Mistress Onyx walked around behind the two girls and wrapped a black gloved fist into each one's hair, drawing protests from them. "Allow me to educate you," she laughed, pulling them along.

The Stalls were in a back room, next door to the filthy privy, the stench of which drifted into the crudely made wooden stalls themselves. As the name suggested, they looked like the kind of thing you might keep horses in, enclosed on three sides by wooden panels, but open at their back, where they were accessed from a corridor that ran from behind the bar. But there was a difference from any stable stall, which was that there was a rough hole cut in the furthest wall of each one. Through the hole could be seen the privies themselves, where those patrons who had drunk too much of the cheap beer were busy relieving themselves into a trough that drained to a an underground tank which the city's tanners would use as a treating agent for leather. Through the peep-holes a steady traffic of orcs and half-orcs could be heard and occasionally part-glimpsed coming and going from the main bar area beyond. Unlike any stables, the stalls were also covered in filthy graffiti, much of it barely literate, which had been scrawled around the walls, walls which stank with the emissions of god knows how many men - and worse creatures. Sticky trails of spent semen decorated the side panels, dribbled from the hole itself, and pooled on the floor. Alicia shuddered in revulsion at the disgusting sight.

"You kneel at the hole," Mistress Onyx explained, though explanation seemed superfluous, "and you suck anything that gets put through it. Understand? And if I hear a single complaint from the clientele, I'll be back here to encourage you with *this*." She gestured to her tightly-cinched waist, where Alicia noticed that a riding crop dangled from a wide leather belt that also held a bunch of keys.

"Yes, Mistress Onyx," Mari said quickly, her eyes downcast, more reflexively used to obeying in such situations.

Alicia slowly nodded, distracted by the thought of the dreadful task that she would soon be having to perform. "Er, yes... I suppose so," she agreed, the predicament that she had got them into beginning to slowly dawn upon her. Still, an agreement was an agreement, and there seemed to be no other way out.

"Good," Mistress Onyx said, and she dragged the petite brunette form of Mari to her knees in the first stall. A chain dangled from the wall next to the hole, and at the end of it was a metal collar, which the black woman snapped around Mari's throat, securing her so that she could not leave the position she was in, her face near the hole and with only a foot or so of play in the chain. Then she dragged willowy blonde Alicia to the next stall, and forced her to kneel down onto the dirty floor, likewise chaining her into position. Alicia grimaced as she felt a wetness at her knees, realising that she was kneeling in a pool of spent semen, soaking through the skirt of her maid's uniform. She was glad that she was wearing gloves.

"Enjoy, ladies!" Mistress Onyx laughed. With a balled fist she banged the wall of the stalls that connected with the privies. "Fresh meat, gentlemen!" she called. "On the house, enjoy your stay!"

Alicia tried to pull away from the whole, but the chain brought her up short just a foot from it. From the other side, she could hear a raucous cheer, and sensed that people - and orcs - were moving closer. Before very long a form loomed at the other side of the hole, and a cock poked through it, smelly and unwashed, but fortunately, she noted, human. She reached gingerly up to touch it, and began stroking it, watching with fascination as it began to harden.

"That's it," a voice on the other side of the partition cackled. "Now suck it, girlie."