Begging For More

About a week into my stay in the whorehouse, and Madame figured I was ready to start having clients. She'd went over every detail possible and had me tested for various STD's. I was lying down on my bed, reading a book of poetry, to pass the time before my first client was supposed to be there. It was a simple blow-job and that was it. I heard yelled outside the room door and I sat up in bed, wonder who the hell was yelling. It sounded like an argument, instead of the usual yell of 'faster' or 'more'.

"I don't get why you're even mad!" It sounded like Ashley. She was always so nice to me, I didn't think she had it in her to yell like that. "It's what I do, and our relationship isn't gonna change that."

"I just don't like to know that my girlfriend is fucking other guys, I have a right to get mad!" Jake yelled back. That answered my question as to who was yelling. Ashley and Jake had an odd relationship. They argued, they screamed death threats, apologized, fucked, and the cycle continued. In the matter of a week, the cycle was already starting back over again. I sighed and laid back down. They'd be done yelling soon anyway.

"You knew this when we started dating! I was a whore then and I'm still a whore!" Ashley screamed. "I'm not gonna quit just cause you're an insecure prick!"

"I might be insecure, but guess what, I'm not a filthy fucking whore! You'll fuck anything that gives you an invitation to what's between it's legs! That's why you don't mind fucking girls! You fucking dyke!"

"I'm not a dyke! You've fucked guys but I'm not calling you a faggot!" I tuned them out. They made each other feel like shit on a regular basis, yet continued coming back to each other. Their yelling got to the point that Madame Gigi had to call them into her office. My head hurt from the nonsense that had erupted between the two. I honestly didn't get it.

From what I'd gathered, Ashley and Jake met when one of them first came into the house. They must've hit it off quite well, and they began seeing each other. But if that's how they met, then they both met as whores, and are still whores. So what's there to argue about? Jake was mad because he was sharing his girlfriend with whoever Madame assigned her to, and Ashley was mad because Jake was being a dick about it. In my eyes, they both just looked ridiculous. Yelling never solved anything anyway.

Tyler knocked on the door and opened it a little. He gave me a shit-eating grin. I set my book aside, making sure to place a bookmark inside the book.

"Your first client is here. You excited?" He asked, bouncing on his heels. "The noob is finally getting broken in!"

"You're more excited than I am." I replied with a playful eye-roll. He scoffed and held the room door open for me as I walked down the hallway to the room my client was waiting in. "Here goes nothing."

"Wait, hold on. Here." He handed me a small thin, piece of fabric. "You put this on your upper thigh, if things get rough, press this button and someone will come help you." I took it and put it on.

"Thanks." I gave him an awkward thumbs-up and went into the room. It was a dark, dank room. There was a queen-sized bed against a wall and the curtains covered the only window in the room. On the edge of the bed was a man. I'd seen his face before. "Hello there." I said as seductively as I could muster. The man licked his lips. He looked old enough to be my father. I pulled out the white tab that Ashley had shown me the first day.

"Hello, slut. Now come on, I don't have all day." He spat at me. I blinked, a bit taken aback by how he was talking to me. He spoke as if I was trash. Filth. I went over to him, started tugging his pants down followed by his boxers. It was odd, and ugly. I knew what to do, I'd been forced to practise before on Jake, which didn't help our already estranged relationship.

I licked the man from base to tip slowly, making sure to tease him. He groaned and looked down at me. I started back at him as I began to lightly suck on the head.

"That's right you little slut, fucking suck me." He growled. Again with making me feel as if I was nothing to him. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and took more of him into my mouth, my hands slowly massaging the bottom half. "Fucking whore. Nothing more than a fucking whore." He tangled his hands in my hair, yanking and pulling on the strands. I didn't care much for the guy's choice of vocabulary towards me, but I figured it wouldn't take him long to come and he'd be gone.

His hands forced me into going faster, which I complied with, but he was starting to force more of himself into my mouth, and I was going to gag. I coughed around his dick in my mouth and tried to pull back. He started yelling at me in sexual frustration and I tried to continue the blow-job. I knew I was messing things up, but I just wanted to fix things.

Then he hit me. The back of his hand collided with my smooth cheek. It stung and I was at a loss for words. He jerked himself off, making sure the white streaks from his penis hit my face. He then cursed at me and left the room. I wiped the man's cum off of my face and got up from the floor. I went to leave and pushed the white tab back. I could feel my face starting to bruise. I ignored it and went to take a shower.

"Hey, how'd it go?" Shay asked me. I shook my head and walked past him. I took a shower in the client shower, locking the door behind myself allowing the tears to flow free. Yes, I'd put myself in the position to be treated the way that man had, but that didn't mean the situation hurt any less. I felt used, dirty. I couldn't stop brushing my teeth over and over. Why hadn't I pressed that stupid button? I just wanted to do a good job for my first time. I left the shower and curled up in my bed, in nothing more than an over-sized long sleeve shirt. I threw the covers over my head, not wanting to talk to anyone. I felt someone kneel down beside me.

"Hey, it'll be okay, Holly." Josie whispered to me. "No one's first client ever goes well." She rubbed my back and walked away from me. I sniffled. Why was it that even at my last resort, I still managed to fuck things up?

___

I fell asleep in my bed and didn't awake until the wee hours of the morning. The other girls were fast asleep in their beds. There was a small note on the small table beside my bed. I picked it up and angled it just so that the moonlight allowed me to read it. 'You don't feel pain unless someone thought you could handle it.' It wasn't signed with a name, so I shrugged it off as a random act of kindness done by someone. My stomach growled so I tip-toed out of the room and into the kitchen. The house was eerie, what with everyone asleep. It felt empty, drained of all the life that existed within it when everyone was awake.

I made myself a PB&J and ate it quietly. I drunk a small glass of water and attempted to set my dishes noiselessly into the sink. After my small midnight snack, I tip-toed back up the stairs. I could hear the shower running and faint singing. I tip-toed to the shower room door. It was cracked enough for me to see inside, but not much else. I took a deep breath and peeked inside to see who was showering this late at night.

My breath was caught in my throat as my eyes landed upon him. He was a work of art. Each inch of his skin drawn and decorated elaborately with varying shades and colors. Almost his entire backside had ink upon it, except his bum. I stared, unable to help myself. He was faintly singing a song I hadn't heard. His voice coming out hoarse and desperate, but it fit the words that tumbled past his lips. His accent clung to his words, making them sound charming, and beautiful. I kept peeping in on him without any regards for the fact that he'd turn around eventually.

I covered my eyes and went to turn and run to the girls' room when I almost ran into a wall. I stepped back and went back into my room and crawled back under my covers. The beauty I'd seen engraved behind my eyelids.

___

Words can be dangerous. Very dangerous. Though words are just jumbles of letters, messes of syllables and noises created by humans, they hurt just like a physical stab to the heart. And that's how it'd felt when Ashley had called me a useless fucking slut.

She'd called me that because I'd accidentally dropped her glass perfume on the floor and it broke. I had apologized profusely, but she didn't want to hear it. She was still angry with Jake, and Missy wasn't helping the situation. Josie had left the room the moment the two wolves began to attack me.

"You think just 'cause you're new that we're gonna take pity on you?" Missy spat. Ashley nodded.

"We all have our own sob stories, and frankly, no one gives a fuck about your's." Ashley drew her hand back and struck her flat palm against the side of my face. I hadn't seen it coming. My hands bloody and scraped from trying to pick up the broken pieces of glass. The shards stuck into my palms, making a hoard of comfort there. My face stung after she'd hit my. "Useless fucking slut." Slash. The words were like a knife grazing over perfectly innocent flesh.

Things hadn't been going the best for me. It'd been a few days since my first client, and new had travelled fast. Everyone had heard of my first client fiasco. Josie had tried to be kind about it, but she didn't stop the jokes and jeers that were made at me during breakfast. It was still a rough subject, so I usually just repressed it and acted like it was a small nightmare I'd had late in the night.

Actually, that was something I'd been doing a lot of; repressing things. If I didn't want to think about something, I shoved it to the far corners of my mind and ignored it's attempts at moving to the front of my conscious. Easier said than done, because there were times when I simply couldn't do the shoving or ignoring.

I'd had two other clients, one of which winded up calling me every bad thing one could be told and left me with bruises concealer couldn't cover. The other had been nice, he was content with the average hand-job I'd given him. Three clients in and I had a less than half star rating. And as if the thought of being a terrible whore wasn't enough, the jokes creaked into my ears and roamed throughout my thoughts daily.

Missy punched me in the face, but I didn't really feel it. I was more in shock of what was going on, than paying attention to what was actually going on. I was being hit around like a kickball during recess in elementary school. It was fine though, to some degree, I felt I deserved it. Ashley had been nothing but nice to me, but I just continually kept ruining her life here. I'd accidentally torn a blouse of her's, and now I'd shattered her favorite perfume. Now for Missy...as long as she got out her anger and frustration at the world, I didn't care.

Torn, more emotionally than anything, they left me. Tears had fallen from my eyes, but my sobs clogged my throat. I was drowning, but in feelings. I was naturally a sensitive person, naive and emotional too, but I tried not to be. No one wants to feel so much that they find themselves crying for other people. That was me though. No one asks about that though. They just assume you're mentally stable until you're obviously not.

I crawled under my bed and just lied there, pieced of glass under my fingernails and sticking out of my hands. Blood specks on my shirt and a bruise forming on my face. Makeup should at least make it more faint. I needed to walk, it was something I did to escape, I'd always come back, but I just needed an escape. Too bad escape wasn't an option anymore. I'd already made a deal with the devil, I was just suffering through with my consequences.