Chapter 8: Latching

BETH

I still couldn't get over the fact that I was undressed, completely starkers, morning, noon and night, even when I was being shown around other part of the House. Oh no, let's be honest, call it a brothel, that's what it was. And that made me feel all the more vulnerable. What if a punter turned up early? He might see me!

"Come along ladies, the first customer's arrived." I heard now, "Line up properly and introduce yourselves. There's a charming young man there, a new client. Whoever wins him needs to make a good impression." I was in the process of counting myself lucky that I hadn't been caught in one of the 'public' areas, "He's highly respected and that's the type of return customer we want to make an effort for tonight, girls." Madame looked at me.

'But I'm a virgin! I shouldn't be here.' That, of course, is what I wanted to say.

She, that's the madam of the house, who we addressed as 'Madame' or 'Madame Grenouille', appeared to glare at me, but with a false smile on her face as she spoke to the others, giving a pep talk, "This is a new red-light House, a purpose built one for professionals. You're all here now, every one of you." On the word, 'you', her eyes fell again on me, defying me to avoid my responsibilities, I knew. "If there's any one here doesn't feel ready to perform to the standards expected of her, maybe you aren't really quite ready, just turn around and go back to your rooms."

The invitation, I understood, was more of an ultimatum directed at me. I had no choice but to comply, let my body be abused by a series of men or ... the alternative was too dreadful to contemplate. Naturally, I stayed where I was.

How I wanted to disappear! No such luck. I had to stand there. And what was worse, while the others were wearing clothes, I had nothing on, nothing at all. I know we were all about the same age, but I felt so immature compared to these 'professionals'. Why didn't they take pity on me? Couldn't they see that I shouldn't be here?

It came to me, a flashback, my dead friends. The car accident, their cheering and the stupid comments in the speeding car, and then!

All my fault. I deserved to pay for my crime. I was lucky being given this one chance to evade the penitentiary and the almost certain chance of retribution. I had said I'd do anything. And so I would.

This was my place. Much as I started to shake, I was damned lucky to be here. What was Madame saying? I'd missed that.

CHUCK

First, a long-haired girl in evening dress with a slit up the side, processed in, as if on a catwalk. In fact, I understood the walkway was elevated a little to ensure all the girls could be seen even if the place were busy. She was more than handsome, sophisticated too, it quite surprised me that she was working here.

She was followed by a more petite dark-haired girl in a baby doll costume, waggling her bottom from side to side as she passed me. It struck me that this attitude was in direct contrast of the sexless females I saw from time to time around the main street, hidden under bonnets and long dresses. Did some of that drab garb really hide these sirens? I should study the penguins again more carefully in the future.

Of course I was aroused. My body betrayed any decent standard of manners that I had been brought up to. As well as that, I was acting as if I were an insensitive redneck trying to see as much as was on view, and some that was still hidden. It upset me. I would have been even more obvious in my staring if I had not thought these girls were being forced to bare themselves in the most indelicate of ways.

There was no doubt as to where she was in the line, some fourth of fifth. I hated myself that her overt reluctance turned me on. 'You must have respect for women at all times', Mom again!

I'd once seen a girl upset by the macho attitude of a group of lads, and ever since then had adhered to a silent personal vow. I took a deep breath, but who could not help but be excited by this spectacle of young flesh? My eyes could not take themselves from the growing line of beauties in front of me. I forced myself NOT to look at the nude one.

I'd seen them previously upstairs and at a meal, but this visualisation of semi-naked young and beautiful females was different. They were at work, and what a difference that was. Now, they reeked of invites and of sex. They flaunted themselves at me. This was despite the fact that I had been assured most were aware they were only present to make the novice believe this was a genuine line-up.

Why?

Don't ask me, Madame had decided and what she said, that went. I accepted her decisions.

If I had ever nurtured thoughts of prostitutes before, my image went to a forty year-old bleached blonde with painted over-red lips from which hung a half-smoked pungent fag. This, I imagined, was drooping from her smelly mouth, a curl of annoying smoke stinging my eyes and obscuring my vision. Not a very attractive sight was it?

To the contrary, here, each one of these was ... delightful in her own way. All pretty, all young, and all were conjuring up potential enjoyment in different ways. I stared from one to the other and concentrated on the next arrival to push past the strips of hanging material, into our presence. They all emerged in this manner to join the catwalk from some other room.

Yes, next entered a set of nylons and suspenders with an open crotch panty and nipples poking out of her bra'. I could no sooner take in the sight of her exciting lingerie but my eyes were distracted by the girls who followed.

A timid girl, in the nude, tried not to look towards me. She couldn't help it, and lowered her eyelashes when I caught her glance. I don't know what it was that attracted me to her more than any of the others. I assumed her bashfulness was affected and designed to intrigue my interest, her figure was not much different from the others, but she had a young face.

Then, of course, I became aware of what Madame had told me. No wonder, one hand hovered nervously over her crotch. It was as if she were trying to attract my attention to see what was secret and hidden. Immediately, I knew this girl might be 'twenty', but she had only the experience of fifteen or sixteen years of actual life. Before I could concentrate fully, the girl behind her stumbled and pushed her a little bit forward and my attention was distracted.

'Leather Girl' following her, recovered her balance, she was undoubtedly sexy and exhibited a rawness without disclosing much. All her body was covered with tight leather that in some ways was more enticing than the natural skin of 'Nude Girl', my target.

I have the impression that each of the girls introduced themselves in some way when they stepped forward and announced themselves, though I'm damned if I can remember one word. I took very little notice of what they said, my mind and my eyes were always on the previous sexy young woman. The rush of my own hormones and the continued replenishment of new exciting women served to confuse me.

But whatever was said, at the back of my mind, I had already made the decision. Even if given a free range of choices here. 'Miss Nude' cried out to me by the reservation in her nature. Knowing, as I did, she had never before had sex, I experienced a natural machismo instinct, wanting to deflower her. Isn't that the right word? No it wasn't that I wanted to fuck her, it was an urge I was experiencing, I needed to, I would! And I felt I was a real heel in letting those urges emerge and move to the forefront of my mind.

Of course, I had some reservations about being the first to fuck her. My cosy family upbringing would be outraged at what I intended to do. 'Please, Mom, if I don't, this girl will have to be sent... ' My silent prayer faded away. My reasoning was false. And I discovered I was thinking in terms of 'fuck' and 'cock' and even 'cunt'. I began to hate myself.

Oh what the fuck!

I had to be honest with myself. Dammit, if I'd been dragged in here with a friend, I'd have no choice. That nubile youngster was so inviting, her body was nothing but demanding that I had to use her, whatever my thoughts beforehand. Was it the fact she was naked whilst the others weren't? Was it her demeanour, trying to be so sexy yet inside she was a little girl just waiting to be taken advantage of and ravished? She was beautiful, rounded breasts with pointed tips, puffy is that how they were described? That was the word Madame had used.

Beth, I felt as if it were cheating, already knowing her name, looked younger than the others, a young twenty. Was it just her less mature demeanour that attracted me so much or was there, despite her nervousness, a deep seated need to be taken by a man, possessed and to feel protected?

What a load of baloney my mind was coming out with! Thank goodness it wasn't spouting out of my mouth.

What a naked bottom she had as she perambulated in front of me, trying not to avert her eyes out of shyness. On my side, I sat casually at the bar, sipping on a half of their draught bitter. It wasn't a match on that wine I'd had earlier. That had had a high alcoholic content.

I think I made a point of not trying to make it look like a fix by taking an interest in Leather Girl, and suddenly noticed, for the first time, one next to the end of the line, the most sexily attired girl I'd ever seen in my life. The tight shiny rubber in which she was encased almost gave me an ejaculation there and then.

I hated myself for my next thought. I'd have my little whore geared up in a rubberised shiny covering some time, not too distant in the future.

There was time enough for that. In the meantime I beckoned Miss Nude forward. I'm damned if I could remember her name, it had just slipped from my mind having been there a few seconds earlier. What had Madame said that I had to do?

I must assert myself.

This was not Charles Downing the considerate and polite young man. I was now. Chuck, the engineer and even at the age of seventeen respected by the fathers of the town, and I was expected to conduct myself like a Frontiersman. From the start, a woman had to know her place. It was foreign to me but, in a quiet voice, I leaned forward, "You are trying to hide something from me, well it won't work. Take YOUR hand AWAY," I firmly asserted in a low tone, "and let me see that little hole you're going to let me use. You've been keeping it safe for me until today."

She was almost in tears. I wanted to put my arm around her, to comfort her, but I was well aware of the repercussions if I failed in my task. Would the next punter fuck her and gain control over her? Any other man, but me, would not be good enough for her.

A more aggressive side of my personality emerged, taking pleasure in the knowledge that I had let her know who was boss. Would she not carry out her sentence and end up ... DEAD? I should be failing in my duty if I lacked confidence to the extent of allowing her to back out.

It's like holding a young child's arm when a deep graze had to be cleaned with antiseptic, you must be firm and even hurtful in order to be kind in the long run. Treat her as a child, she is your responsibility now.

And what was to stop me taking pleasure from any reaction I got from her?

I had mixed feelings, an overwhelming sense of responsibility and, with that, I possessed a nervousness not unlike that which I had experienced on my own virgin night some years ago. On that occasion, I had had less time to consider matters. The event had been unexpected, the decision of ... oh what does it matter? It was in the past. Not a very auspicious instance to look back on.

There was one sense that was asserting itself more than the others; I had not had a fuck for years, and this girl, the situation, the fact that I could demand sex from her - just like that, all served to increase the pressure in my pants and I was forced to adjust them.

The movement caught her eye. She glanced at my hands.

Now, normally I'd be apologetic at displaying a hard-on in the presence of a female but now I recalled Madame's words of advice. I accused her, "You caused that, so we'll let you take care of it." I raised my voice, announcing publicly, "I'll take this one, she's already half ready, looks as if she stripped off in anticipation," more quietly, "So eager, can't wait, eh? Think it a waste of time to even put on your panties, eh?"

I looked at the last one in the line, and damn me, she was a close competitor, and then there was the other one. If I'd not already had my decision made, Little Miss Rubber looked so sexy I almost creamed. Her whole naked body was encased in see-through shiny rubber that accentuated each part of her, no she did NOT look like a giant condom, she looked like a living breathing sexy fruity. It was all I could do not to rub my fingers all over her smooth surfaces.

I took Nude Girl's hand, "Take me to your whore's den."

The order obviously made her feel uncomfortable but Madame had told me to make no bones about the relationship; whore and punter. I remembered what she had said, "When I was working in a house or was an escort, I was ALWAYS the one in charge." She had chortled, "I decided if he was too big for anal. I decided if I did French without a condom. I decided if I'd have a couple of smacks on my bum while doing doggy. But in your case, you MUST set the tone of the relationship that will be sex worker and owner. I noticed she never used, 'pimp' now, seeing how I had reacted adversely to her use of the word.

As I went out with Miss Nude I'm not sure who was the more embarrassed, though she was not aware that the situation was a novelty for me, too.

Madame wanted this girl fixated on a demanding man, and not one she thought she could twist around her finger. It was for her own good. I knew I'd have to remember all Madame Grenouille had said, because now, all I wanted to do was enjoy myself. I followed the tiny naked and clenched buttocks, imagining what they would look like rolled into tight rubber. Then I allowed a smile to play over my lips as we mounted the stairs. Beth was her name, I recollected now. She was beautiful, slim thighs, a small waist, a beautifully curved back. I'd never thought of a back as being sexy before, but then, she was buck naked. And that arse, those buttocks muscling each other in turn as she mounted one step and then the next!

I think my cock grew even bigger. Certainly it was as hard as a rock as I noted her fuzz now between her thighs, now visible as I let her move a few steps higher than I was.

I recalled the intriguing bare cunts which had been exposed of two others on the line-up. I'd like my girl like that. Imagine if there were no hair to obstruct my sight, what should I be able to see? I surmised. Then she stepped from the top of the flight of stairs onto the carpet of the bedding floor, as the girls referred to it.

What made me adopt such 'nasty feelings' that I verbalised? "I can see why you were ashamed enough to cover yourself up. Not bothering to shave," I commented, "I suppose I'll find your breath smells as you forgot to brush your teeth. Did you wash your feet, or do they reek too?"

"No, no," she protested at each suggestion.

"Then at least tidy that hair out of the way. How can I see your cunt otherwise?"

"I, I don't cut more than this..." she said defensively.

"The next time I pay for you, I'll see how you react to a decent smacking if you can't get rid of that mess."

"All?"

I sniggered to suggest that any objection was ridiculous, but my earthbound conscience was telling me not to be a bully and not to make her feel uncomfortable. Yet another part of me was so incensed by the situation, I wanted to throw her on the ground, splay her legs, and rape her without any delay.

Later, many months afterwards, I was to discover that every female who ended up on Pionova was aroused by the slightest sexual contact- PROVIDING IT WAS IN THE PRESENCE OF A MAN. Strangely, on their own, or just in the presence of another female, arousal would always evade them to the extent they should never achieve orgasm. Men were the indispensable aphrodisiac.

My hand could not help to cup itself under her crotch.

Her reaction was immediate. I couldn't believe it, my hand was damp. That alone incensed my feelings. I wanted to stroke, to feel, to gently caress those pointed nipples, I wanted to fondle both sides of her bum. I wanted to kiss her. Wasn't that banned? Didn't prostitutes refuse to kiss?

How beautiful she looked, how vulnerably uncovered she was. And I knew she sensed the same thing, judging by her edginess.

Fuck the rules! I pulled her naked torso to me and thrust my mouth over her lips. She strangled a surprised cry and I caught her open mouth at the same instant. At the same time I was more than conscious of the hardness of her tiny nipples making their presence felt, even through thickness of my shirt.

I shrugged off the woollen garment, and felt her, body skin to warm body shape, enjoying the pressure of both breasts, I was squashing them as my hands cupped both smooth-skinned rounded cheeks and pulled her closer. I had no qualms about pulling her towards my cock, still in my pants. I advertised its presence and its turgid presence against her flat belly. Oh gawd, what a perfect body she had, unused and unabused as yet, but ripe for the fucking.

When I decided to have her, I pushed her naked body backwards and I dropped my trousers in one motion on the bed, appreciating that Madam had situated a bolster to raise her thighs. Yet I still cried "Ears," as I'd been instructed to. Like a rocket, she completed a practised move in half a second. Lying on her back, her knees flew up around her ears as her hands held her ankles.

The result was like nothing I had ever imagined. The girl had changed shape, she was no girl, but all she was, was a cunt. The posture she had now adopted showed nothing but her bum, the under-part of her divided thighs and her widened crotch. The purpose was indisputably calculated for one purpose only, to advertise the accessibility of her slightly parted cunt. She stared momentarily at my cock and I glanced down at it too, surprised at the size of the erection I presented. It had never been that huge.

I couldn't resist placing one finger between her labia and separating her opening. I hardly had time to admire her little rounded tits that emerged as two small cones surmounted by tiny, but erect nipples protruding from them. Heh, her boobs weren't as small against her slim torso as I had been led to believe.

Taking my finger out, it was quite wet. Her reaction was to blush bright red but she still strained to hold her uncomfortable but accessible attitude. It was so pornographic, crude and exciting.

My cock was hard and rampant and she was ready, obviously so. I slipped easily inside her vulva, showing pink. Her lips were welcoming me as if used to inviting the approach of any cock. My small, not so small, head found its targeted fissure on the rear soft wall of her already wet cavern and ... and I pushed.

A slight moment of regret that I had not paused to see what an unbroken hymen looked like, but to hell with that! I eased forward, my physical reactions having completely overtaken any reservations I had harboured.

They said, to ease the pain of its being ruptured, it was better to break through speedily. I likened it to getting into the cold sea. When afraid of the plunge, you inch in the water slowly, as the cold creeps up your body, you sense the unpleasantness each new step up your midriff brings. Better to get it over with in one underwater dive. It's like ripping an adhesive plaster off a wound, attack swiftly and it's done.

Heh, I wanted to savour this moment. Very slowly, I eased forward.

Her eyes widened as I pressured the obstruction and stretched the sensitive membrane. Any thoughts of being upset that her virginity was being taken were surpassed by the pain in her vagina. Her eyes watered. She wanted it in and over with.

I would make her remember this event. I found myself taking perverse pleasure in the slow pain I was inflicting, the tight squeezing around the top end of my cock. Eh, it was painful for me too. What do they say about uncircumcised men? The pleasure from the head of the cock is far greater. Let me tell you, the hurt I experienced as I pressed up against the obstruction was bloody agonizing.

Yet I pressured slowly, no quick jolt. That was for pansies.

I pushed more, and tears emerged from the corners of both eyes, hers not mine. Her mouth tightened and a soft, "Eeeh," sounded. With clenched teeth she repeated that silly expression each time I pressed slowly forwards, each move dragging her reluctant but elastic protective skin deeper into her vagina. When would it give? Would I have to come out and dive in to break it very quickly?

This was the only time in her life her cherry was to be taken, I was determined to do as Madame had directed. She would remember this event. Anyhow, some deep-rooted primeval instinct wanted me to let her know that I was the one determining what was happening now.

She tightened the grip on her feet as if to make my job easier and to let me rive forwards. Why did it hurt her so much before it had even started to tear?

She started to cry tears, broken a second later by a big squeal. This followed my undergoing a sense of success as I ruptured her last layer of protection. I continued to go slow. Her clenched vaginal surround up the length of her route had never experienced any other presence and the muscles had to be enticed to widen. The aperture of her channel was breaking the boundaries with every new ring of forces I met. I still went slowly, and there was a whimpering sound underneath me. Some impulse made her widen her thighs even more, in her ungainly position, as if to encourage me to get it over with. She raised her pelvis gingerly as if she'd never been so presumptuous before.

I'd had enough of this. The pain of pushing her hymen, no longer was present against the crown of my cock, but the constriction of vaginal muscles was still too tight to take my pleasure because her vagina had never before been forced to accommodate a man's girth.

"Whoo!" It hurt my cock. I took a deep gasp at the same time she did, as I forced her vagina to expand to accept me when I exerted my pelvis hard. It was too sudden for her and she gasped too. The shared pain caused a completely different reaction from her. No longer was I the combatant.

She was hurting, but now she began to adopt an eagerness to co-operate. It was no adherence to the demands of Madame and her cohorts. This was because her body and spirit demanded it.

I jammed deep up into her with a vengeance. I gave no time for her muscles to expand gently to accept my presence, but forced myself high up into her innocent sheath.

From my initial attack, I changed the tempo into a more moderate natural speed.

Still having to force my way through unwanted tightness, I had time to study her face, skewed with pain and anxiety, yet now starting to develop a determined air as her pelvis took on the role of responding to my demands.

God! How vulnerable she looked, docilely widening her thighs and glancing up at me in embarrassment, to ensure now that she was acting as she was required to. I sensed that there was still pain with every movement, but she was riding the pain out and revelling in the sensation of natural sex, getting more and more aroused.

In turn, I held pity for the muscles in her thighs and lowered her knees one and then the other. Even in the missionary, she still drew her thighs further apart, a polite position for any punter. That had been stressed upon her, I later learnt.

Now, I was ready and increased my efforts. In my eagerness to get as high up into her cervix as possible, I'm sure I pushed both her thighs even wider. Momentarily, I had a flashback of all my previous experiences. Then I had been keen to ensure that my companion got off first, before I achieved an ejaculation. To hell with that! I found myself building up, and completely ignoring her pleasure, I started to shoot.

My experience was to ejaculate some four or five times as I hefted my body forward. Three, four, the amount of jism to be extruded was still there. I needed to expel it, and kept on riding up into her now wet hole. Six, seven times I spurted and would have ended there, but by now her whole vagina began to ripple and tease my cock into spurting out the last three or four minute shoots from my depleted reservoir.

I concentrated on reforming my gaze into her face. Her eyes, fixed deep on mine tried to force their concentrated stare deep into my being.

Her face itself was relaxed and peaceful suffused with red that extended to her neck and, even as I looked, started to extend down over her chest area like a rash over the tops of her breasts and then lower. Was that so exhausting? It had been for me.

I had never experienced such a satisfying ejaculation in my life, and neither have I ever been as exhausted. I'm afraid that my cock contracted quite rapidly and, reluctantly, I drew it into the air and, half-heartedly, I collapsed, about to twist over on my back, after supporting myself during the throes of exercise. I was loath to give up any connection with the experience that I still wanted to savour. Oh, that it could have gone on and on!

Her arm, stronger than I imagined, prevented that cessation. Did she feel as I did? I fell down with a thump, to drop in an ungainly manner over her hot body. I would hurt her. I was muscular now and weighty.

She held me there, the tears that streamed out of her eyes I knew held, not pain, but relief, joy, pleasure. Surely not after what she had been put through! My weight might have been a physical burden, but she clutched me as if her life depended on me. She tried to say something, stuttered and gave up.

Being pleasured by the presence of her warm heat, her bulges and crevices and her demand to be close to me, I put my arms around her and gave her a hug.

I awoke after the exhaustion, both mental and physical, had knocked the two of us out.

If asked to calculate the length of time I had spent here I should have said, some twenty minutes, after all they did have sessions of half an hour, didn't they? Later, I was to discover that our intercourse alone lasted over forty minute yet, to me, it was finished in a shot. The exhaustion necessitated a sleep of almost two hours. No, I never timed it, Madame did.

"I thought you really wanted to hurt me," she felt confident enough to confide.

I felt guilty.

"But it was wonderful, you were magnificent. Who are you?"

It was quite sweet really, as her little fingers clasped my hand and I opened my eyes to see the naïve girl's face looking up at me adoringly. Suddenly she recalled part of the instructions that she had been taught. "Thank you, sir. Thank you for servicing me." It sounded like, 'sunny side up?' or 'Have a nice day', the type of thing a cashier might offer on departing after a transaction at the local store.

I think she sensed my attitude.

"Thank you for making me a proper woman." the words were whispered, imparting a sense of intimacy.

I rolled off, only to have her roll her own nude body back to the side of me. "I was scared," her eyes fixed themselves on to me in wonderment. "It was brilliant," she uttered in gratitude and with a sigh.

She began to look troubled.

"Stop it." I pronounced quite firmly but I still perceived a growing sense of awe with which she was regarding me.

"You, who are you? You won't just leave me, will you?" she started whimpering.

I held one arm around her, more firmly, with the desired result. The scrutiny with which she endowed me became unfaltering.

How could I treat her harshly? How could they ask this of me? I felt such an affinity with her. Yes, there was true affection on my part. I had to steel myself to bring out the next words. "You never, ever, ask that question of somebody you bring up to this room. Men are entitled to their privacy in personal affairs. What right have you to ask that of me, a common whore questioning a Frontiersman?

"I'll be keeping my eye on you, remember my name, Mr Charles, and don't you forget it." I responded to the question to put her mind at rest, but trying to do it in such a way as to re-assert my position.

I indicated the blood over my genitalia and besmirching the bed clothes, "I was told you were special. They never told me you would make such a mess. You made such hard work of it, I thought you were trying to refuse me my rights."

"No, no." She muttered quietly and apologetically, "I've never done it before."

"I damn well hope you never refused anybody else. And if I hear you refuse anybody in the future, I'll see you pay for it. Aren't you forgetting anything?" I indicated my wizened cock, quite slick still with female juice. I'd never realised how wet the girl's vagina could get.

"Oooh," she suddenly recalled the duty of the whore and, taking a deep breath to face such an unpleasant task, she bent down to lick clean my cock. Her inexperience showed itself as she adopted quite an embarrassed air in putting her mouth to my genitalia. Strangely enough, the moment her lips touched my cock, I sensed an excitement grow in her face. She started attending to her task with something approaching eagerness.