Chapter 1

Betty checked her figures one last time. It had been a good night at Alice’s Kip. The new girl had certainly attracted some attention. She’d worked the whole night. Betty suspected that the poor girl would be walking bowlegged after that marathon. She was trying to prove herself, but she might have overdone it a bit. The other eleven girls had done brisk business as well.

It was a far cry from five years earlier, when she, Alice, and Cammie had arrived on their brave venture to Windsholme - which they’d nicknamed Stingy Pussy at the time. Cammie still took on a few men and the occasional woman who came in looking for sport, but Betty and Alice hadn’t made their living with their legs in the air on the regular for a couple of years. Their clothing was more often stained with ink than cum.

The old Kip was now their private residence and office space. The new Kip was a beautiful two-story house with eight rooms that had real plastered walls, so men didn’t have to listen to fellas rutting in the next room. Betty was rather proud that their brothel was nicer than the Cat - where they’d first plied their trade - and even rivaled some in Fightershaven.

It was only half their business.

Lots of girls with few options had shown up over the years, and not all of them were cut out for whoring. At first, Alice had put them to work cooking and cleaning for the working girls. Some of those girls were fine cooks, and many were pretty enough to ply their bodies but simply didn’t have the temperament. Inspiration had struck one evening as the three friends recalled the harrowing journey that had set them on the path of independence.

The assassins who had been paid to kidnap and murder them - out of revenge for a powerful man’s bruised ego - had used an eatery as a front for their hideout. Betty had suggested that they open one, having the girls cook and serve. It was Alice’s stroke of genius that made all the difference, though.

During the day, the serving girls were dressed conservatively - though their dresses still emphasized their curves and legs. At night, those same girls wore gauzy gowns with deep necklines, short hemlines, and slits up to the hip. Heaven’s Table did brisk business with men who were keener to look than touch. The food and wine were good enough to attract travelers even without the display of female flesh.

It was Cammie’s idea to only serve wine, so as not to compete with and anger the local tavern keeper.

Betty didn’t need to do the sums for the Heaven, because Hannah took care of it. She had been the first to join the three friends in the brothel and had proved she had skills other than humping in time. After only a brief stint taking care of the day-to-day operations at the eatery, it was obvious she should be running things there fully and permanently.

The increase in travelers - and thus coin - had earned the block of buildings at the edge of town and the people who occupied them a measure of acceptance. One other highly unusual factor had contributed to their success. Since the Heaven attracted travelers, they decided to turn away local husbands and boyfriends, and instead counsel them in ways to entice their women to spread their legs with sweet, unexpected gestures. The local women no longer glared at them as if about to form a torch-wielding mob, and some were even friendly.

With the sums finished for both establishments, Betty calculated her cut of the profit, added it to her tally, and smiled as she closed the books. She’d finally reached her goal.

Alice looked up from the letter she was reading when she heard the heavy, leather cover thump shut. “You’re done already?”

“Mmm hmm. Good day at the Kip and the Heaven.”

“Don’t know how you do it,” Alice said, giving a shake of her head, and then a chuckle. “I want to pull my hair out within a couple of minutes of looking at those books.”

“I enjoy it a little. Having everything come up right is satisfying. Besides, Hannah does half the work.”

Alice nodded. “You know, I think we may need to cut her in on things instead of just paying her a salary. She’s too good to lose already, and she’s getting more savvy every day.”

“Sounds right to me. Ask Cammie when she wakes up tonight. You should probably start pushing Cammie to do a little more on this end of things, if she ever wants to strike out on her own too.”

“Too?” Alice lifted her eyebrows and asked, “So, you’re ready to set up your own place?”

She hadn’t actually meant to let the news slip that very moment, but since the cat was out of the bag, Betty answered, “I’ve saved up what I think I’ll need, and I have an idea of where I could go.”

“Good for you!” Alice said as she stood and crossed the well-worn wooden floor to her friend’s desk. She leaned down and hugged her. “So, where were you thinking?”

“There’s a town about two days from here to the east called Hard Creek. Barely more than a farming village, but it’s right on a road where one of Pompeil’s men says there’s going to be a lot of traffic soon. There’s apparently some kind of melon they grow out toward the coast that’s becoming popular in the cities.”

Pompeil Harrold was a merchant of significant wealth and renown from Freeland, who had been caught up in the kidnapping plot because he was visiting the brothel when it happened. He recommended that his men seek out the services of the network of brothels the Kip was connected to, as part of the debt he felt he owed to those who had helped him escape that nightmare unscathed.

“Pomp doesn’t seem to be wrong very often. Sounds like a good idea,” Alice agreed. “Get in and established before things kick up.”

“That’s what I was thinking. I thought I might go there and have a look-see, though.”

“And borrow a couple of girls to see how stingy the women are with the pussy around there?” Alice asked - knowingly.

“I was thinking about Jan and Lana.”

Alice pursed her lips and nodded. The two girls had been working long enough for the new to wear off, but not yet long enough to have a large regular clientele. Being new again in a different place would be good for them, and for profits. “I think they might actually enjoy a change of scenery.”

“And Ghent, to watch over us?” Betty asked.

A crooked grin spread across the blonde Madame’s face. “You’re sweet on him.”

Betty rolled her eyes. “Last I noticed, nobody’s been sleeping in your bed here for weeks.”

Alice actually blushed. Olan was an older widower who had built the most recent house on the block for the girls working the Heaven, when the existing accommodations had grown crowded. Something had sparked between them during that time, and he’d asked her to step out with him. Eventually, she’d started spending the night at his place, and that had evolved to practically living there.

“He’s good for you, I think,” Betty said.

Alice gave a dainty shrug and said, “He’s good to me. And he’s funny. He makes me laugh so hard I can’t breathe sometimes.”

“Ghent too,” Betty admitted. She shook her head and chuckled. “Listen to us. Two old whores acting like smitten little girls.”

“May as well enjoy it while it lasts. Take him with you. The girls too. You can use one of the wagons, and take whatever you need. When?”

Betty considered the preparations she would need to make and suggested, “A week?”

“That will give me some time to get used to the idea of dealing with these for a while,” Alice said and then saluted the leather-bound ledgers with a raised middle finger.

The week of waiting and making preparations had been one of the longest of her life.

Betty checked the wagon, making sure everything was in place. The trunks of their clothes were all loaded. The iron-banded, elaborately decorated wooden case holding the potions that prevented them from getting pregnant and falling ill was safely secured, along with one of the blessed healing potions she’d acquired after seeing the potency of the magic brew during their kidnapping ordeal. Right next to it sat the strongbox that would hold the coin she hoped would fill it in short order. The tent canvas and poles were in place. Three loaded crossbows were within easy reach.

The two new girls weren’t particularly good shots with the weapons, and none of them save Ghent could reload them, but even a near miss would give an attacker pause. Betty had been practicing for years, and she was confident that she could hit her mark, even in the chaos of an attack. Being taken and facing almost certain death was quite the encouragement to learn how to defend yourself.

Most likely, the weapons wouldn’t be necessary. As usual, they had arranged to travel with a two-wagon caravan that had hired guards. Jan and Lana would be making coin from the men who protected them before they even reached their destination. The wagoners got free ones as the price for the protection by the fighting men, but the sellswords themselves would have to pay.

In addition, each woman would have a dagger. The real danger of those weapons was surprise, as men rarely expected women to be armed. Every girl had at least a little training to use the weapons properly. That was a last resort, thanks to the rings they all wore.

Raven, the rogue who had assisted in their rescue - and who had provided most of the funds for them to set up in Windsholme - had managed to blackmail a wizard, and she had put him to work making the rings. A thought and a touch would put most any man into a deep, magical slumber. It was a handy thing for a whore to have, because guards could only move so quickly, even if they were just outside the door.

Also handy for a burglar who preferred not to leave bodies behind whenever possible.

Ghent arrived with two woven baskets, completing the preparations with food cooked at the Heaven for the journey.

“Everything ready, Betty?” he asked.

She gave him a cute smile and tousled his dark brown hair. “All good, honey.”

Ghent was a mountain of a man, and he could back up his intimidating look with a thrashing when necessary. He was one of the first they’d recruited to act as a guard over the brothel in exchange for free ones, and Betty had usually been the one to spread her legs for him. She’d grown rather fond of him because he was funny, sweet, hung like a horse, and had enough stamina to actually get her there. Even though he was being paid in coin now, she still brought him to her bed almost every night.

She was about as close to being in love with him as a jaded prostitute could be. Perhaps, even a little more.

“Ain’t never been no place else before,” Ghent said as he began walking around the wagon, checking it for soundness.

“It’s probably not going to be all that exciting, honey. Just a little town.”

“It’s a different place. It’ll be fun,” he said, and flashed her a huge grin.

Betty giggled, rolled her eyes, and shook her head. “Get the horse hitched up. I’m going to go make sure Jan and Lana are ready.”

“Yes’m”

Betty exited the barn through the creaky door and squinted against the light of the rising sun, which made her yawn. She saw Alice and Olan break from a kiss and split apart - though they continued to hold hands until he stepped too far away for them to reach. A young man who looked as if he was about to come out of his skin with nerves remained at Alice’s side.

“Who’s this?” Betty called out as she changed course and sauntered toward the blonde Madame.

“My savior,” Alice said, and laughed. “This is Danny. He’s one of Olan’s workers, and he’s good with numbers. He’s going to take care of the books for me and help Hannah teach Cammie while you’re gone.”

She didn’t have to say that he’d be working for free ones. That was all but a given for any new man. Nobody had to say that his first free one would probably be his first one ever. His nervous demeanor practically screamed virgin.

“I’m going to get the girls,” Betty said. “The wagoners will probably be here soon.”

“You be careful,” Alice warned, and then held out her arms as Betty crossed the last of the distance between them. The two embraced for a moment.

“We will. Ghent will take good care of us,” Betty said as she stepped back.

“I’m sure he’ll take extra special care of you,” Alice said and winked.

Betty turned toward Olan and saw him looking back with a wistful smile on his face. She didn’t even have to say it when she looked at her friend again.

Alice let out a snort and said, “Whatever. Get going, you old whore.”

“You’re two years older than me,” Betty teased as she walked away. She reached out, brushed her hand over Danny’s cheek as she passed him, and said, “Have fun, honey.”

The young man practically swooned from her touch.

Betty smiled as she walked through the courtyard contained within the block of buildings that had grown up around the Kip. Patches of flowers sprung up from the grass, and a large vegetable garden was swelling with bounty. Workers were on their knees amidst the rows of plants, pulling weeds and looking for pests. At the back was the house where the working girls actually slept, and made their homes. Flower boxes hung below each window, all brimming with blooms, and pretty curtains decorated each portal.

Inside the door was the front room, filled with comfortable, cushioned furniture where the prostitutes could socialize when they weren’t working. It was there that Betty found Jan and Lana rubbing the sleep out of their eyes with their bags of personal things at their side.

Jan was plain of face, but had some of the most perfectly formed, large breasts Betty had ever seen. The girl’s long, flowing golden locks had to be a nightmare to maintain, but the look was worth it. What Lana lacked in the chest, she made up for with a cherubic face and a personality that equally mingled playfulness and seduction. Her pale blonde hair barely reached her shoulders, and the straight tresses perfectly framed her face.

Both had come from the surrounding countryside upon hearing of the Kip. They had tried going it alone, but Lana had been robbed more than once, and poor Jan had taken a beating from a drunk that left her laid up for over a week. Betty was glad to see them cheerily - if with heavy eyes - chatting when she entered. Their desperate, frightened demeanor had faded within the safety and security of the Kip.

“Ready to go, girls?” she asked.

Both gathered up their canvas bags and stood. Jan said, “We’re ready to go, Miss Betty.”

Lana asked, “Is it true that we get half working outside the Kip?”

“That’s right,” Betty answered. “Maybe even more, depending on how things go. You girls are going to have to work a little, instead of waiting for the boys to come to you. Hopefully, not for long. Once word spreads...”

“What about not having guards?” Jan asked with a little trepidation.

Betty held up her hand and wiggled the finger with her ring, reminding them that they had magical means to prevent the tragedies they’d experienced in the past. “Ghent’s going to keep an eye out for us too.”

Both women visibly relaxed upon learning that the cheery, massive man would be ensuring their safety.

“He’s waiting for us in the barn right now, so wiggle it, girls. There are horny wagoners and sweaty sellswords hungry for some pussy, and you two are going to be the only ones around to offer it.”

“You’re not going to lay down for any of them?” Lana asked as she fell in step behind Betty.

“Only if you girls can’t keep up, and make me show you how it’s done.”

Betty was fairly certain that after that playful challenge, she would only be keeping things orderly and feeling out the situation for the entire trip. Anxious to have a place that was hers and hers alone, that suited her right down to the ground.

Betty sat in front of the low, crackling fire next to Ghent, leaning on his shoulder. From the sounds arising from within the tents of the fighting men who weren’t standing watch, things were going well.

The wagoners had been taken care of first, and both were likely dead asleep. One certainly was, because he was snoring loudly enough to be heard over the sounds of passion echoing through the night. Betty glanced at the two men who were on watch, and both looked more than a little depressed.

Ghent whispered, “Look like they just dropped their supper in a pile of shit, don’t they?”

Betty shook with restrained laughter. She gave Ghent a pat on the leg when she mastered it and said, “Why don’t you go tell those two that if they let us know when the watch changes, the girls will get up and take good care of them, if they’d like.”

“And can pay,” Ghent added with a chuckle.

“You know it, honey.”

The on-duty guards’ demeanor had brightened considerably by the time Ghent returned.

Betty yawned. It had been a long, bumpy day in the wagon.

“Ready for bed?” Ghent asked with more than a touch of anticipation in his voice.

Betty giggled and reached between his legs to find his manhood rapidly swelling. She gave a nod and accepted the hand he offered to help her rise. They slipped between the tent where Ghent would sleep and the wagon. He then lifted the flap of the canvas erected on poles atop the wagon, and let Betty climb inside.

The straw-stuffed linen mattress had not only made for a less jarring ride, but also provided a reasonably comfortable place for the three prostitutes to sleep up off the ground. There was no need for words as the couple undressed. Though their coupling was no longer transactional, they got straight to business nevertheless.

Ghent’s grin broadened as her clothes fell away, and she shivered when he dropped his pants to reveal his tree trunk of a cock. Betty grabbed a thick pad of linen to place beneath her ass, reclined on the mattress, and beckoned him with a crooked finger. She spread her legs and rubbed her clit with the other hand to get her juices flowing.

He dropped to his knees between her legs and then fell forward onto his arms atop her. Though it was a view she had seen more times than she could ever count, there was something different about Ghent’s broad, muscled chest hovering over her, and his excited smile.

There was something very different about his enormous cock rubbing against her folds. He easily had the biggest cock she had ever seen, and she’d seen a lot. She let out a moan as he rocked his hips, gently grinding the throbbing organ against her sex. Ghent dipped his head down and took one of her nipples between his lips to suckle it. A quiver ran through her from the chilly tingle of wetness flooding her canal.

After a couple of minutes of him nursing at her breasts, he asked, “You ready?”

She nodded, because she was soaking wet. “Mmm hmm, honey.”

Ghent rubbed the bulbous tip over her folds, wetting it in her juices. Betty couldn’t help but smile at the expression on his face. His excitement and joy were positively contagious. Even after humping her for years, he always looked as if it was the very first time.

When she felt the swollen head press against the entrance of her canal, she willed herself to relax. Nevertheless, her back arched and she let out a deep groan as the massive invader slipped inside her.

“Feels so good, Betty.”

Her voice breathless from adjusting to his girth - despite little more than the head having penetrated her - she responded, “You too, honey.”

Ghent swiveled his hips, stirring the head of his cock inside her. Betty reached down and began stroking her clit. She could feel the rapid throbbing of his cock, and knew how excited he was, but he held his desire in check, allowing her to relax enough to admit him.

He slipped deeper with a groan, and she drew in a gasp through clenched teeth. When she looked over her breasts, she could see that a little over half of his big cock was buried inside her, stretching her to her limits. It was her turn to groan when he slowly withdrew. She could feel every vein and contour of the hard organ sliding along her walls.

“You know what I want, honey,” she told him when he paused with just the head inside her.

“Uh-huh.”

It was easier the second time the massive organ plunged into her depths - just short of banging into the entrance of her womb. After bedding her so many times, he knew exactly how deep he could go, and he had the control to do it. For such a big man, he was incredibly gentle. Betty moaned and whimpered as he slowly plumbed her depths. She continued to tickle her clit with the tip of her finger, but that wasn’t the orgasm she was after.

Ghent maintained a slow, methodical pace. His eyes - full of love and arousal - roamed over her body. She had to wonder if his face ached from maintaining the wide grin adorning it.

She felt the first tickle after a few minutes, and it caused her pussy to squeeze around him. Ghent growled and - somehow - his grin grew even wider. He knew what the goose bumps breaking out on her sweat-dampened skin portended.

Betty’s heart began to race when that tickle swelled behind her mound. Few men could make her come at all. Ghent had introduced her to something altogether different when she acquiesced to let him try to get her there - expecting to fake it for his benefit. The deep, powerful orgasms he gave her were beyond compare. The first time it happened, she’d nearly fainted and ended up giggling uncontrollably for the longest time afterward, once she caught her breath. She had thought it a fluke until he duplicated the feat the next evening - and the next.

She could feel it building. Ghent could see it in her face, feel it in the involuntary twitches of her body, and hear it in the rising pitch of her voice. Every slow thrust added to the coiled pressure waiting for release. After more than a half hour in her hot, wet, clinging pussy, the strain was evident on the big man’s face, but she was nearly there.

Unlike a normal orgasm, it wasn’t preceded by an acute, anxious need to come. She was in a state of wonderful, aching bliss for thrust after thrust, until finally, it hit her like a thunderclap. Betty lurched beneath her lover, her back arching and her body trembling. Instead of the electric jolts that stimulating her button caused, it was a rumbling earthquake that was all over, all the time.

On and on it went. Gasping cries and groans escaped her, and she grew lightheaded from the relentless onslaught of her climax. She was barely aware of anything except her beautiful agony until she heard Ghent’s low, rumbling growl. She gave full voice to her pleasure in a scream when she felt his hot cum blasting against the entrance of her womb.

Once again she slipped into the sweet abyss of her orgasm, until he pulled free, leaving her empty. A stream of their mingled cum immediately dribbled out of her gaped canal. Betty slowly drifted down from her heights while Ghent collapsed next to her with a groan - his bulk rocking the wagon.

Betty edged closer to him on weakened arms - holding the linen pad between her legs to avoid soiling the mattress - until she could rest her head on his shoulder. While they lay panting and perspiring in the dim light, Betty could hear Jan and Lana quietly chatting while they cleaned up at the water barrel on the side of the wagon.

Neither she nor Ghent flinched when the flap of the canvas whipped open, and cool night air rushed into the interior heated by their romp.

“Damn,” Jan remarked, her eyes fixed on Ghent’s huge, pussy-slick cock lying across his thigh. “It’s as big as my arm.”

Ghent was too spent to do more than grunt, but Betty chuckled.

Lana asked, “Going to let anyone else have a go at that?”

“Not a chance,” Betty answered.

“Stingy,” Lana said with faux cattiness.

Betty stroked her hands over his abdomen and said, “You girls have to work. Can’t have him splitting you in half.”

“I think it actually might,” Jan said, still staring at his member.

That drew a weak chuckle from Ghent.

“Thought one of them was going to pass,” Lana said. She then shook a pouch that clinked with the sound of coins. “Jan jiggled the girls in his face, and he hopped right on.”

“Good going, girls. Don’t forget the boys standing guard. They’ll want a turn. Told them you’d get up and give them a ride when the watch changes. Go ahead and take your half now before you put the rest in the strongbox.”

“Really? Thought we didn’t get half until we got to town,” Jan said.

“I’m in a good mood, and you have to get up in the middle of the night for a hump.”

“Thanks, Miss Betty,” the two girls said one after the other.

“Speaking of getting to town...” Lana said, and then gave Jan a tap on the arm.

Jan picked up the cue and said, “The drivers said there’s one girl whoring in Hard Creek. Said what she was asking was too rich for their blood.”

“Actually, they said she must think her pussy is made of gold,” Lana elaborated with laughter in her voice. “Young, red-brown hair, pretty, and big boobs.”

Betty shrugged. “If she’s the only girl milking their pricks, she can get away with milking their purse too. Won’t know how that’s going to go until we get there.”

Both whores let out little sounds of agreement as they deposited half of the coin they had earned in the strongbox.

Betty sighed, sat up, and then leaned down to give Ghent a kiss. “Okay, big boy. Time to go get me a rag to clean up with, and make room for the girls to get some sleep.”

He stuck his lip out into an outrageous pout and whimpered like a kicked puppy, prompting all three women to laugh.

She gave him a smack on the butt. “Go on, you goof. You need your rest too.”

“Okay, Betty.”

There was something so satisfying about watching a physically imposing man crawl unsteadily to his clothes. Then, her heart skipped a beat when he gave her a sweet smile before slipping out of the wagon.

She wasn’t sure how to react when she felt a pang of sadness because she wouldn’t wake up to him at her side in the morning.

The three prostitutes waved and smiled when the wagoners split off just outside the small town of Hard Creek. While the men were continuing on east - trailing a drifting cloud of dust - they ran this route frequently. If things worked out, they could very well be the first regular customers of a brand new brothel after two nights of Jan and Lana taking extra special care of them.

A few buildings stood off the side of the road leading from the main thoroughfare into town. The nearest was easily the most impressive. It was two stories tall, featured large glass windows, and appeared to be made primarily of wood and stone. The windows and wood spoke of great wealth by their mere presence, as both were surely imported from the north. The stone was cut and mortared, which was always a symbol of extravagance.

As the wagon approached, they saw the front door open. A man stepped out, tucking his shirt into his pants as he walked. He moved toward a horse, mounted, and trotted off into town before the wagon reached the house. When it did, a flutter of movement on the second story caught Betty’s eye. She looked up and saw a nude woman looking down on them.

Almost instantly, the woman’s eyes turned as hard as agates, her upper lip curled, and she dropped the curtain - hiding her from view.

“Think that’s Miss Golden Pussy?” Lana asked, having noticed the woman.

“Probably,” Betty agreed. The woman fit the description offered by the wagoners. The opulence of the house suggested that perhaps the men had underplayed how much she was charging. It was easily as big as Alice’s Kip.

Betty began to seriously reconsider her choice of location.

They passed a small farmstead and another well-appointed house in the final approach to town. Just off the road, a boy playing in the dirt caught Betty’s eye. She leaned forward and whispered, “Stop next to that boy there.”

“He’s watching,” Ghent said, knowingly.

That was what Betty thought as well. The boy seemed far more intent on the people passing in town and the approaching wagon than his oddly shaped dirt mounds. She also knew he was older than he was trying to appear.

The boy looked up when Ghent brought the wagon to a halt.

“Excuse me,” Betty said. “Is there an inn or hostel in town?”

The boy nodded, offering a smile that looked as false as his play. “Big place up the other end. Can’t miss it.”

“Thank you so much,” Betty said and then tapped Ghent on the shoulder. The question she’d asked was a legitimate one, but she was more interested in his lack of reaction to something else. The series of subtle hand gestures that Raven had taught her should have elicited a response even from a green thief’s lookout. The boy had obviously seen them but had looked confused.

Certainly not part of an organized guild, and probably had little contact with other thieves, according to what Raven told her.

As soon as the wagon started moving with a groan of protesting wood and clomping of hooves, Ghent said, “Looks like she got herself a bully boy, and he’s following us.”