The New World
Copyright© 2024 by Dark Apostle
Chapter 25: Choices
Fan Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 25: Choices - The story follows James Smith, a man who dies and finds himself in a surreal afterlife courtroom, where his life is judged as "zero sum"—neither good nor evil, just utterly average. Dissatisfied with being consigned to eternal mediocrity, he manipulates the cosmic bureaucracy into granting him a second chance in a new world, where he is reincarnated as a child with his memories intact and perks... - edited by my lovely Steven.
Caution: This Fan Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Ma/ft Mult Coercion NonConsensual Reluctant Slavery Lesbian BiSexual Heterosexual Fan Fiction Farming High Fantasy Rags To Riches Restart Alternate History DoOver Extra Sensory Perception Body Swap Furry Magic Incest Mother Sister Politics Royalty Violence
In the main parlor of Anna’s brothel, the evening had settled into its familiar rhythm. Candle flames danced lazily in iron wall sconces, their light pooling across deep crimson velvet settees and low tables dotted with half-empty wine glasses, some still bearing faint lipstick marks. A handful of clients remained scattered in the shadowed alcoves—merchants loosening collars after long days, a traveling nobleman with a quiet laugh—each paired with a companion whose soft murmurs and deliberate touches kept the drinks flowing smoothly. The other girls moved through the space with practiced ease: some refilling drinks from crystal decanters, others straightening the embroidered cushions on the long divans or leaning close to whisper promises that drew low chuckles from their marks.
Anna stood at the very center of the open floor, hands planted firmly on her hips, her dark eyes sweeping the room with the calm authority of someone who had built this place from nothing and knew every creak in its floorboards. Her black hair was pinned loosely tonight, a few strands escaping to frame her face. Christine hovered near the polished mahogany bar at the far end, arms crossed so tightly over her chest that the fabric of her dress strained across her shoulders. Her lips were pressed into a thin, disapproving line. James stood a little apart from both women, hands shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders hunched slightly in an attempt to look more at ease than he truly felt. The weight of eyes on him—curious, amused, appraising—made the room feel smaller than it was.
Anna raised her voice, clear and carrying without needing to shout. “Listen up, everyone. The Fenrir opens in two weeks. New tavern downstairs with proper ale taps and a hearth that doesn’t smoke, fresh rooms upstairs with thicker mattresses and better locks, new faces walking through the door every night, and—best of all—better tips than we usually see in this place. I want two, maybe three of you working there full-time. Anyone interested in moving over, go upstairs to my room right now. James will do the selecting, and if you are picked, you will be working for him.”
A burst of delighted laughter and excited whispers rippled through the women. Heads turned, eyes flicked toward James with open interest and amusement, some narrowing playfully, others widening in mock surprise. Several girls nudged one another, grinning wide enough to show teeth, already imagining the change of scenery and the heavier purses that might come with it.
Christine’s frown deepened further, carving lines around her mouth. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, looking for all the world like she was ready to leave the room entirely and never look back.
Anna stepped closer, her movements unhurried, and gave Christine’s shoulder a gentle, teasing punch. “What’s the matter? Don’t you want to supervise? Make sure he picks the right ones?”
Christine didn’t uncross her arms. “NO! I will leave that to you.”
Anna’s smile turned sly, the corners of her mouth curling with genuine amusement. “Your loss. You might learn something.”
Christine exhaled sharply through her nose and looked away, staring fixedly at a candle flame as though it had personally offended her.
Anna clapped her hands once, the sound sharp and commanding in the warm room. “So—who’s interested?”
Six of the girls immediately broke away from their conversations and drifted toward the wide oak staircase at the back. Silk whispered against skin as they moved; a few cast playful glances over their shoulders at James—winks, blown kisses, slow smiles—before disappearing up the stairs. The remaining women returned to their clients or their tasks with barely a pause: fetching fresh glasses from the bar, straightening the cushions on the long divans, settling onto laps in the dimmer corners where the light barely reached.
Upstairs, Anna’s room glowed with the soft, amber light from several candles placed around the room. The heavy four-poster bed dominated the room, its dark wood carved with twisting vines and draped in deep green velvet curtains that could be drawn for privacy. A long, gilt-framed mirror leaned against the opposite wall, reflecting the flickering candle flames and multiplying the room’s warmth. A side table near the window held an open bottle of deep red wine and a tray of heavy crystal glasses that chimed softly when touched.
Anna entered last and closed the door with a firm click that echoed slightly in the quiet space. “Eira, pour everyone a glass of wine. We’ll be waiting while James samples us one by one. Okay, everyone, let’s strip and line up. I know James has talked to you all in the past month, but let’s follow the custom.”
With much giggling and rustling fabric, the women complied. Chemises and wraps were removed and placed on the dresser. Skin gleamed in the candlelight: pale curves dusted with freckles, smooth olive tones that drank in the warmth, generous hips and full breasts that shifted with every breath. One by one, they accepted their glasses, sipping slowly as they arranged themselves in a loose, confident row facing the overstuffed chair Anna had positioned earlier for this very purpose. The chair sat like a throne at the foot of the bed, its deep cushions upholstered in worn burgundy velvet, arms wide enough to accommodate sprawl.
James stood near the chair, heart thudding hard enough that he could feel it in his throat. Six naked women watched him with varying degrees of amusement and invitation—some tilting heads curiously, others shifting weight to let light play across their bodies. The sheer matter-of-fact ease of it all made his head spin.
‘I am glad that Christine is not here,’ he thought. ‘It’s weird enough already.’ The thought of her witnessing this ritual turned his stomach in knots.
Eira, dark-haired and graceful, finished pouring and handed the last glass to Anna before joining the line. Her sharp green eyes met James’s for a brief, calm moment—assessing, patient, utterly composed.
Anna took a slow sip of wine, then gestured toward the chair with her free hand. “Sit, James. Relax. You’re among friends.”
He exhaled, feeling every gaze settle on him like warm hands, and lowered himself into the deep cushions. The women waited, glasses in hand, bodies relaxed yet poised—professionals at their ease, ready for the next step in what was, to them, simply another evening’s work.
Anna’s smile was small and knowing. “Whenever you’re ready, love. We’ve got all night.”
James groaned at the sight of them all, low and involuntary. A week ago, he would have pounded through them like a man starved, no hesitation, no thought beyond the next thrust or woman. Now he had to be reserved—he supposed. The vibe shift still felt strange, like wearing someone else’s skin.
One by one, the girls introduced themselves, voices light and practiced, each stepping forward just enough to let the firelight catch their curves and highlight the subtle differences that made them memorable.
“Sigrid,” said the first, a freckled redhead with small, upturned breasts that barely shifted as she moved. Her narrow waist flared into generous hips, and she gave a little curtsy that sent her auburn curls bouncing.
“Liv,” came next—a tall, athletic blonde with modest but firm tits sitting high on her chest and long runner’s legs that seemed to go on forever. She met his eyes with a straightforward, almost challenging smile.
“Freya,” murmured a shorter woman with warm olive skin and dark hair tumbling loose to her waist. Her breasts were full and round, heavy enough to sway gently with each breath, nipples dark against her skin.
“Mira,” said the pale, delicate one, slim and almost boyish with almost nonexistent breasts and a wicked glint in her eyes that promised she was anything but innocent.
“Thora,” announced the one no one could ignore. Golden hair spilled in messy waves over her shoulders; her breasts were enormous—heavy, pendulous, fat and lush, the kind that pulled downward with their own weight and made men’s mouths water on sight. She rolled her shoulders once, deliberately, letting them sway and settle, then grinned widely.
And finally “Eira,” dark-haired and lithe, green eyes sharp and knowing. Her breasts were modest but perfectly shaped, nipples already peaked and dark. She tilted her head, watching him like she already knew exactly what he liked.
‘This is so surreal,’ James thought. ‘I never went to a prostitute in the first world, and they are so blasé about this. The true definition of a professional.’
“Anna,” he said aloud, voice rougher than he intended, “I am just a man; I can’t have sex with all of these attractive women in the next hour.”
Anna’s lips curved. “So pick the top ones and just sample them. If you had been busier before, you would have already tried them all, just like Subotai. Instead, you spent your time in me.” She giggled, the sound low and teasing.
James groaned again, long and low, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest.
“How should I select them?”
Anna tapped her chin with a finger, considering. “Okay, since you will have only two or three girls, you want variety—different body types, hair color, skills. Eira, here, for example, can uncork a bottle with just her mouth. Thora has the biggest tits of the girls here.”
“Anna, what do you recommend?”
“Girls,” Anna said, raising her voice just enough, “strip James and let’s get him into the chair.”
The women set their wine glasses down on the nearest surfaces with soft clinks and moved toward him with a determined look. Hands—soft, warm, confident—reached for his shirt, his belt, his trousers. They worked together without a word, peeling layers away piece by piece. Fingers brushed his skin deliberately, bodies pressed close as they bent and twisted around him: a breast grazing his arm, a hip sliding against his thigh, warm breath on his neck. Silk and skin and the faint scent of wine and perfume enveloped him. The room seemed smaller now, the heat from their bodies pressing in, the air thick with anticipation. James felt every touch like a spark—deliberate, teasing, professional. They knew exactly how to build the tension, how to make a man ache without rushing. By the time his last garment hit the floor, his cock stood rigid, veins pulsing, the head already glistening.
“See, James,” Anna continued, leaning back against the bedpost with her arms folded under her own impressive chest, “they are efficient and focused. And from their looks, they are all looking forward to a ride on you.” She paused, letting her eyes drift over the group. “You have been in the house long enough to know what makes a good girl. She is clean, able to talk to a client, skilled in sex, and focused on the client’s desires. The last is why my place is so busy—the men get their coin’s worth.”
“Anna,” James managed, voice strained, “they are all desirable, and I know they are skilled. So you winnow them down, and then I will try them. Otherwise, we will be here all night.”
“Well, you are paying them, so it is your choice.” Anna shrugged, then smiled. “Alright, girls, we will start with two, and if there is demand once The Fenrir is open, we can add more. So I will pick solely on body type. James will have a selection for the customers, and every few months, we will switch. That way, everyone gets a chance at the new place. Now, Thora and Eira, let’s start with you. The rest of you will get a tip from James for participating.”
The other four girls picked up their glasses and clothes, offered him small smiles or blown kisses, and drifted toward the door still nude, hips swaying as they left the room. The door clicked shut behind them, leaving only Thora and Eira standing before him, Anna watching from the side, and the overstuffed chair waiting like a throne.
“If that is the way you are selecting, then why all of this?” James asked. “Not that I am complaining.”
“James, there is a custom that must be followed. Now sit down, and we will start with Thora.”
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