4 comments/ 19857 views/ 0 favorites Bordello By: angiquesophie She waited for her seventh guest of the night. Or was it still afternoon? Maybe it was morning already. Maybe it wasn't her seventh guest. It might as well be her ninth, or her thirteenth. She sat on her oil-drenched calves. Her thighs were spread. Tingling sensations echoed in her tender cunt lips. She savoured the sated feeling of being used thoroughly. It lingered in her deepest niches, in her throat, and in the stretched muscle at the entrance of her ass hole. Her body arched back provocatively. But her eyes were modestly cast down. Her nipples stood out. The left one was pierced with a white gold ring. An emerald lily dangled from it. She was totally naked, but for the leather cuffs around her wrists and ankles. A tight metal collar clutched her throat. Each square inch of her tanned body shone with fragrant oil. Her hair was slicked back into a ponytail. Over her right foot, where her ass cheek billowed out, the brand of a French lily marked her skin. This place was called Bordello. The old woman had told her its name. It was a room with no windows. There were no colours but red. Red damask had been stretched over the walls. A huge bed stood covered with red satin pillows, red satin sheets, and red silk draperies. Her knees sank deeply into the red carpet. And even the lovely Japanese lacquered armoire was a shining red. All was red, except for the ceiling. The ceiling was a single, square wall-to-wall mirror. She knew of only one door. It was almost invisible when closed. When it opened, her heart would leap with sudden electricity. She never knew who or what might cross the threshold to her silent cell of sexuality. But she knew there would be yet another opportunity to serve her Mistress. That certainty never failed to moisten the lips of her swollen sex. She had been in here for days now. She only had left the room to visit the bathroom, where she restored her ravaged body to perfect splendour. She ate in this room. She slept in this room. But most of all she was fucked in this room. Mornings, afternoons and nights a constant stream of men and women visited her. Often they came as couples or groups for her to pleasure. They fucked her and ate her. They filled her throat and the depth of her bowels. She got double penetrated or even fucked in all three orifices at once. She remembered the visit of two lesbians. They used her with huge latex strap-on dildos. And once she'd had a session with six young studs that never seemed to end. They left her with a frosting of sperm on her face and chest, her thighs and belly. Many men had tied her down to the bed. Or they found other ways to submit her to bondage. They tortured her tits. They glazed her bare cunt lips with seething candle wax. "Here I am. I kneel and ponder my fate. I wait for new patrons who will bring me new tortures. They shall offer me new ways to service my Mistress. It is my pride to accept that. To invite it. It has become my life. It is who I am. I know that now. Sometimes I wonder about this girl Kristie. I knew her once. She was a healthy girl who worked hard. She loved to exercise her body. Kristie shared her life with uncomplicated friends. It was a dull life. Her days and nights had no meaning. She shared them with meaningless people. She worked with them in a meaningless job. She spent days at the beach with them. She spent her nights in discos. Kristie lived her life for Kristie. She believed she had a life of her own. She thought she could live it for her own pleasure. She was independent. Another word she once knew. Or did she? I knew that girl. Or did I? Not really. She was a selfish, silly girl. I remember her like I remember my old friends from high school. Like I know my colleagues from the restaurant. Like I remember my mom, my sis, my real sister, I mean. But I know I am not she. Not now. Not ever do I want to be her, anymore. I am Giselle. I am Angique's girl. She baptized me and branded me to be her property. That thought makes my blood surge. My body and soul are Angique's. She is the woman I need to call Mistress. I cannot live without her anymore. She is the woman who watches me as I try to please her. The woman I convince myself of watching me through the overhead mirror. Giant cocks ravage my body and take me to climax. Angique watches me. I smile widely upwards into the mirrored ceiling. Fat splashes of sperm hit my face. I know this is my world. My world is right". Giselle felt happy. She felt sated. There was nothing she craved for. She just needed to serve whatever entered her little red room. Her Mistress would watch from above. Her memory had become a limited place. Hazy walls had enclosed it. They moved and boiled with shapes too misty to declare themselves. Of course she remembered the Villa where Mistress had trained her. She remembered her new sister Clarize with whom she had lived there. It was a clear memory. It always filled her with a glow. It made her yearn to have the girl with her. To have her here and share her services. She had envied Clarize the moment she came back to the Villa. The girl's name had still been Brigitte then. She had been jealous. She feared the girl would destroy the special bond she had with her Mistress. Giselle had been baptized and marked. She had been pierced and branded to be the sole property of her mistress Angique. For a while she had been the one and only pet. Or at least that was what she thought she was. But her envy had dissolved in the vast ocean of time-torture that Angique had submitted her to. When she surfaced and found the new girl, a new feeling had bloomed. They had grown close. The ultimate baptism had glued their fate together. They had shared fears and ecstasies. Giselle saw her agonies mirrored in Clarize's eyes. They had taught each other to accept their fate. They shared their nightmares. They fought their doubts. Together they found the courage to enter a new world of unconditional slavery. One memory rose from the fuzzy edge of shadows. It shone with remarkable clarity. It brought back sounds and smells. It even echoed the incredible passion she had felt at the time. The lovely Summer Room of the Villa took shape before her mind's eye. The light came from a golden afternoon sun. As always it shone straight through the huge windows at the end of a cloudless day. It painted the two girls' naked bodies in stark contrasts of golden flesh and deep dark shadows. Giselle remembered the cool slick leather of a crop against the palms of her hand. She stood very straight and held the instrument behind her back. She watched Clarize before her. Clarize had been pulled up at her wrists by a chain from the ceiling. Only the tips of her toes touched the floor. Giselle remembered now that her sister had not been blindfolded, nor gagged. Inside the circle of short, auburn hair Clarize's face was composed. She even smiled. It was a smile that drove Giselle's heart up against her throat. She felt it throb with racing urgency. Angique had not been there. She had not even been at the Villa. But she had left a note that morning. It showed an antique etching of two girls, both naked. One was chained up at the wrists. The other wielded a whip that touched the right nipple of the captured girl. In Angique's spidery handwriting only a time had been jotted down below it: 1700, Summer Room, it said. Giselle had taken the note. She visited Clarize in her tiny room. They kissed and fondled each other as they often did of late. She just loved to feel their bodies' touch. To feel the warmth of it, the consolation. They usually helped each other groom their bodies. They shared showers and took each other's enemas. They dressed each other's hair and applied make up. All the while they touched and caressed their bodies to a level of arousal. For a while they discussed the notes (Clarize had received a similar one). They decided the mistress wanted them to join in the illustrated activity. "The crop I hold is a gift from Mistress. Angique calls it Angelthorn. She thoroughly flogged me with it and fucked me with the smooth handle. Then she handed it over. She told me it was my new Master. I should thank him for what he had done to me. So I sank to my knees. I kissed the leather with trembling lips. I thanked him for flogging me and bringing me to orgasm. Angique then told me I should always sleep with my new Master. I should slide the handle between my sweet round tits. The little leather triangle at the tip should touch the top of my bare slit. Ever since that day I hug my Master between my breasts before I go to sleep. I present Angelthorn to Mistress whenever I deserve to be punished. I beg her to use him on me. I need him to improve my attitude with his fiery kisses. The same instrument of exquisite torture now rests in my hands. My eyes roam the wonderful body of my sister." "Are you comfortable, sweet sister?" she asked. Clarize only nodded and widened her smile. "Please honour me, darling Giselle," she said. "Make my skin bleed its love for our Mistress." The words made Giselle gasp. A surge of affection rose inside her. She displayed Angelthorn on her open palms. Clarize uttered a little squeal of joy. "Ah, cet honneur, ma belle, » she sighed. "Your sweet master to kiss my skin. Merci, ma petite soeur. Oh mon Dieu, tu me rends si heureuse." A tear leaked from her eye. Her lower lip trembled. Somehow the air seemed to close in. Giselle stepped forward and cupped her sister's face. Then she licked the salty tear away. They kissed deeply. Their tongues wriggled like mad pink fishes. Then Giselle took a step back as she had seen her Mistress do. She made the tip of the Thorn flick her sister's nipple at the end of a perfect arch. "I close my eyes. A shiver runs the length of my spine. I remember the rush of power in my veins. I see my sister's knees buckle under the impact. But more than that I remember the squirt of hot moisture. It runs down my own thighs when I repeat the onslaught. I etch pink welds on Clarize's immaculate flesh." After a number of strikes the climax had built strongly inside her. She wasn't able to aim anymore. The Thorn fell from her powerless hand and she stumbled into the dangling body. She came with incredible force. Her arms closed around her sister who shook with her own orgasm. She screamed Giselle's name at the top of her lungs. They both knew how the moment changed their life. Giselle had untied her sister. They had both sunk to the cool floor and gasped for air. They held each other in a tight embrace. Giselle declared her love. But Clarize had closed her mouth with deep and endless kisses. They had lain there for at least an hour. Then Giselle had carried her sister off. She bathed her. After that she dressed the ugly bruises with soft oil and even softer fingers. They were true sisters now. Their fate had been linked and tied into an unbreakable knot. There was no way back. For three days and nights they repeated the ritual. They punished their skins and flogged their sexes into a rage of climaxes. When their mistress returned, their bodies were a craquelé of welds and bruises. Their skin was a spider's web of painful lust. They flung their naked frames at Angique. They kissed her and thanked her for bringing them so close together. Angique smiled. She picked up Angelthorn and buried it deep inside the black trunk. She closed the lid and took the key. "No more of this for a while, sweet children", she said. "I must fear for your lives." Then the three of them had made love on the huge bed. They had not slept before the first daylight. The morning of the next day Angique had woken Giselle. She told her to prepare for a journey. The girl was only half-awake. But an hour later she found herself on the backseat of the limousine. She was as naked as she had been in the Villa. All windows had been blinded. Arnold, the driver, was as uninformative as ever. The journey took at least three hours. When they arrived at the stern castle-like building, she had no idea where she was. Arnold got her out of the car. He led her to the front door. There he left her standing in all her bruised splendour, and drove away. She rang a bell. A woman who could have been the twin sister of Maria – the housekeeper at the Villa - opened the door. She bade her to come in. Then she clicked the eye of a leash onto her collar and brought her to the room she was in right now. "A sigh leaves my throat. I sit even straighter. The door opens. Two heavy built Negro gentlemen step into the red Bordello room. One of them kicks me. He growls at me to take his mighty black cock and suck it into my white trash, dirty throat. I crawl up against his expensive slacks. I open his fly with trembling fingers." *** After a week Giselle could stand nor walk anymore. She could not even kneel and straighten her back in the desired position. Her throat was raw, her tongue swollen. Her tits' skin was tainted with cloudy bruises. The nipples bled. The inside walls of her cunt screamed with pain whenever a new cock or dildo was ramming its way into it. An invisible dam blocked her soothing juices. But the number of guests didn't diminish. Nor did the frequency of their visits or the urge of their needs. The girl kept exposing herself. She was available to anyone who passed the threshold of her cell. She kept spreading her legs She presented her ass and opened her throat to the onslaught. Her red-rimmed eyes filled with tears. But she kept fixing them on the mirrored sky of her tiny, bloodred world. From that sky she knew her sweet Mistress must surely look down on her. And smile. "I love Mistress. I know she cares for me. I don't know where she is, but I know she cares. She will come and take me with her. The cruel bruises on my skin will please her when she comes. She will see them. She will caress them, and kiss them with her glorious lips. She will come for me. I know. She will wrap my wounded nipples with the sweet velvet of her tongue. Her silver voice will console me. Her smile will fill me with pride. She will balm my torn angel wings with the ointment of her lips. The awful stretch wounds of my sphincter will convince her of my love and dedication. And her slow, soft fingertips will read the horror tale of pain that's painted on my back. I love Mistress. I shall not betray her again. I shall be ready when she comes. I shall be perfect." When the fever came, she was taken from the room. She was tucked between cool, clean sheets. Needles slipped under her tortured skin. A soft woollen blanket of oblivion wrapped itself around her tiny universe. She slept for two nights and the whole long day between them. When she woke she found herself in a white world of sheets and curtains. The clouds of fever had lifted. They left her aware of a raging hunger. She ate three plates of pasta and drank a gallon of water before mustering the energy to see where she was. Then she started to feel the assorted hurts all over her healing body. In the afternoon she left her bed on crutches. She walked the corridors of the mansion. The place was totally different from the elegant Villa. It was like a medieval fortress. It looked bare and forbidding. Straight stonewalls loomed everywhere. Unadorned wooden beams and pillars had been placed with utilitarian gracelessness. Then she at last came to a small room. A nice, crackling fire warmed the air. It shone with a sweet reddish light. She sank down in a leather club chair next to it. She hugged herself inside the wool blanket she found. She tugged her bare legs and feet under her body and stared into the flames. After a while the door opened. The old woman brought her a plate of sweets and a steaming pot of tea. Her name was Anna and like Maria at the Villa she had no English. She could not answer even one of her many questions. But she fed her and took the sweetest care of her ravaged body and soul. Days went by between this cosy room and the adjoining quarters that had been given her. They contained a small bedroom and a larger bathroom with a regal sized bath. She felt her strength return. With it grew the urge to know her fate, to see her Mistress. And the need to be with her sweet sister again. But Anna did not even respond to the name of her mistress. She just smiled and urged her to eat her soup. "I need my sister. My body aches for her. My soul withers without her. I know this need is forbidden. Mistress would frown on it if she knew. She would flog me for it and punish me with isolation. But I know the need is there. It is growing with my strength. Of course I ache to be with Mistress. To show her how good I have been. To hear her soft words of praise and drown in her emerald gaze again. I need to know that I belong. But I have found that I can't live without Clarize. Please mommy, come and get me. Please come, take me to my sweet sister. And please forgive this slut for her sinful weaknesses." It took Anna three more days to restore Giselle to perfect health. Most of her bruises had healed. The blush returned to her skin. Her step was as proud and strong as it had been. She even picked up her exercises. She felt her muscles welcome the wonderful afterglow of exertion. On the morning of the fourth day Anna woke her with tea. Then she pointed out to take a shower and at least two enemas. After that she was to inspect her body. She must remove every hair or stubble she would find. Wondering about the reason for these strict instructions she took three enemas. She lathered her entire body with a thick layer of hair remover. There wasn't a crease or dimple that she did not inspect. When she was satisfied at last, she rubbed every square inch of her skin with the softest of ointments. The treatment had left her hot and excited. Her body stood like a glowing candle at the centre of her room. Anna returned. The old woman ran her wrinkled hand over the young, soft skin. She smiled her satisfaction. Then she closed a metal collar around the girl's throat. She led her out of the room on a leather leash. They walked the length of a corridor. Giselle's bare feet plodded on the ancient stones. After turning three corners she lost her bearings. But she wasn't surprised when a door at last took her back into her red cell with the mirrored ceiling. A sigh of disappointment left her mouth. Anna gave her a warning glance. She blushed with embarrassment. Spread out on the bed laid pieces of an outfit she did not recognise. They were made of lace and a sheer material. Maybe it was nylon or organza. There also was silk and satin. Most of it was in a lovely, sweet sky-blue colour. Anna helped her get into the outfit. She moulded the material tightly around her body. The lace bra cupped her tits from below. They only covered her nipples with a flimsy see-through material. The matching thong had strips of lace and satin. Her crotch was covered as transparently as her nipples. Both pieces were extremely well made. They hugged her as if they were part of her body. Before she put on the thong, though, Anna gave her a garter belt in white lace. She also got lovely sheer white stockings. They were to be attached to it with long lace garters. Two very elegantly heeled sandals completed the outfit. Then Anna started to do her hair. She pinned it up. Her soft throat and collar were in full sight. At last Anna held up a mirror and watched how Giselle made up her face. She smiled and nodded as she picked up the last item. It was an ankle-length robe of the sheerest sky blue organza. She slid it around the girl's shoulders. Then she smiled once more and left the room. Bordello House Call It sounded too good to be true. I will admit, at first I was shocked. I had joined Monica at a small cafe for lunch. I had been surprised when she called for we didn't often see each other any more. Three years ago our husbands had been partners in a thriving cosmetic surgery practice and then her husband became enthralled with his latest creation, a tall exotic dancer that had come in for some lypo, added a nose job, then a boob job and then decided she liked the good doctor so well she took him too. After a messy divorce her husband sold his part of the practice to the remaining partners and left with his latest creation. I thought Monica had left town also but here she was. So when she called I couldn't imagine what she wanted to talk about after three years, but lately I had been so bored, she was buying and I had always loved Cafe Roberto. She picked at the salad she had ordered. I noticed she ate little and finally she leaned closer, "I suppose you are wondering what I wanted to talk to you about after three years." She sniffed delicately, smiling at me, and continued. "Well the last year or so I have taken on a part time job and when my boss asked me if I knew someone that had certain talents," she paused biting her lip, trying to find the right words it seemed. "And well, I thought of you. I remember, " she closed her eyes shaking her head, "I remember that feeling of being so invisible! My whole being so wrapped up in being the good doctors' wife. Knowing all of the women that parade through his office day after day." She sounded so bitter but I had to pause, hadn't I been feeling the same way recently. Lately when Tom came home raving about this woman or that I found myself doubting, looking at myself in the mirror and wondering how I measured up to these women. The kids didn't need me nearly as much as they used to. I had been restless lately, looking for something to keep me busy but Monica's attitude made me concerned that there was something fishy about this opportunity so I very bluntly asked. "What are you talking about Monica? Is this something illegal? Her model thinness, lack of appetite and sniffles made me suspect she was probably involved in some sort of drug activity. "Well I suppose it is illegal, but it shouldn't be" she replied. "Adults who enjoy spending time together should not be considered illegal." "Spending time together," I questioned? She leaned closer, glancing about to make sure no one was listening, and then continued. "A few years ago a friend approached me about helping him out. It seems he had an extremely rich friend who was going to be in the area and who needed an escort. He was too busy to look for someone that fit his specifications for the short time he was here and so had enlisted the aid of my friend to find someone. I spent the weekend with him and was rewarded well. In fact, I made more that weekend then I had made the whole month at the firm I worked at" She paused and I asked dumbfoundedly, "Are you a prostitute Monica?" She laughed, shaking her head, "No, I don't use that word and neither does my friends." "So what word do you use," I asked? "And what did you want to see me about? I could never do something like that." "Aren't you even interested?" she smiled, "Don't you wonder if another man besides Tom would find you sexy, desirable. You certainly have kept your figure, still only the two kids right?" She leaned forward and continued more earnestly, "Aren't you looking for something for you, Laura? Those kids of yours must be in school by now all day long. Don't need you as much except for that six dozen cookies for the bake sale or the Halloween costume, or maybe a ride to their friends house. It's not bad life, but does it have the daring and excitement that you expected your life to be filled with?" But I sputtered, "Why me, what makes you think I would do something like that?" She sighed, patiently, "Because Laura we are alike, attractive, intelligent women who put our hopes and plans on hold for our husband's dreams and careers only to wake up years later and realize that we had sunk into assuming a role of housekeeper, nanny, and occasional lover. Our dreams are gone and we are left living vicariously through our children and husbands." And you think the answer is to sleep with other men for money?" I shook my head. "Or other women," Monica smiled. Although I was asking all these questions, looking back I now realize I was hooked. The idea intrigued me and I was already thinking of what I would wear, if I ever did it, which of course I never would. Would I? Would any man really want to pay money to be with me?" Monica slipped a card across the table. It lay there between us, a simple card with a phone number scratched across the back. I hesitated and Monica slipped it closer, "Take it, think it over, and then call the number. I know you Laura, I know how empty that picture perfect life can be. I also know how hot you are deep in your soul Remember the time we shared fantasies, remember what yours was?" I gazed at the card, not even looking up at her, remembering, my words flooding back, "I think I would love to be a high class call girl, fucking different men, desired by many, using them all and getting paid for it even!" "Here's your chance," she whispered, standing up, she dropped several hundred dollars on the table, and left. I watched her, as she left, shaking my head, "I could never do that," but a little voice in my head whispered, "Yes Laura you could." When I got home that afternoon I tossed the card into my desk drawer and forgot it or at least I tried to. But at the most inopportune times I would think of that card, of that number. A small voice in my head would occasionally chide me, "Throw it away, don't do it." But did it matter if I threw the piece of paper away? The idea, the phone number was already planted and memorized. It was late May and the kids were busy with end of the school year field trips, picnics and parties. Both of them were going off to camp for 4 weeks as soon as school was out so I was also busy getting their things together for that. Tom came home one evening smiling. "Alex Barr invited us to join him next week on a fishing trip up to Canada. He was so happy with his wife's augmentation that he invited us to go along to his new lodge. I have heard it is just amazing. This trip is going to be so relaxing." Next week," I asked? "You said yes already? I thought that we were going to spend a few days together, but I suppose what does it matter if we are there or do something different. It's not like we have reservations anywhere or anything." He had the courtesy at least to blush guiltily as he explained, "Umm, when I said us, I meant the partners at the clinic. The wives aren't invited. I know we talked about me taking the week off but like you said nothing has been planned or anything. Right?" He left the kitchen shrugging his shoulders. "Sorry Hon, do you know where we put those jigs that my Dad gave me?" I stepped over to the desk and opened the drawer. The card lay there, staring up at me, calling me. I looked up at the calendar above the desk, X's marking off the days when the kids, when my whole family would be gone. When I would have no responsibilities, no kids, no husband. I swallowed hard, my hand wrapping around the card slipping it into my pocket. I made the call the next week as soon as Tom left. A sleepy, masculine voice answered, "Yeah, this better be important." There was a rattle, a clunk, the phone must have been dropped and in the background I heard a muttered, "Who the fuck is calling me at 9:30 in the frickin morning." Then, "Who is this?" I hesitated, and then surged ahead breathlessly, "My name is Laura. Monica gave me your number and told me to call. I'm sorry I bothered you." I hung up, standing with my eyes closed, my hands over my face, "What was I thinking?" I shook my head and then nearly jumped out of my skin when the phone rang. I gazed at it apprehensively and then snatched it up. "Hey, is this Laura?" "Yesssss," I replied. "Sorry about a moment ago," the man on the other end continued. "My name is Nick. You said you were a friend of Monica's?" "How did you get my number?" I demanded. "Ahhh, the wonders of modern technology," Nick replied, "Caller ID. Nothing for you to be upset about. If you don't want to chat I'll just hang up but you did call me and I am curious. Monica told me she had given you my number weeks ago." "Well I had to think about it, calling you that is," I hurried to add. He chuckled softly on the phone and I found myself relaxing, feeling silly about my nervousness. "Do you often worry so much about making a phone call," he teased? "No, but then I have never made this phone call before," I parried. "And why would a call to me be anything important," Nick laughed. I hesitated not saying anything so he continued. "Ahh, Laura, I think we can both tell this phone call may be very important to both of us." "Yesss," I whispered, swallowing hard. "Laura, I tell you what, hon. Why don't you come over later, say about 5 and we can talk more. I'll show you around and we will see how you feel about it all. How's that?" He rattled off an address that impressed me. It was in a very affluent area of the city where we had occasionally attended parties or events, usually hosted by some patient of Tom's. I admitted that I wasn't sure where the address was exactly but that I would try to find it. "No we don't want that baby," he said. "I tell you what, I'll send a car for you at 4:30, OK? Can you be ready by then, Hon? Oh and Laura, dress for a lover, baby." He hung up. For a moment I stood there, biting my lip, "Could I go through with this," I wondered. I ran upstairs. Heading for the closet, I passed the mirror, catching sight of myself. I paused, moving closer, staring at my reflection. Not bad I thought for 33. My skin was smooth, my blonde hair bright, shining pulled back in a casual pony tail. I slipped off the sundress I was wearing. Smiling, yep, I still had my figure even after 10 years of marriage and 2 kids. Full breasted, long legged, if anything at 33 my body was sexier, fuller, more sensuous then when I had been a young co-ed. I turned back to the closet searching for a particular dress. Finding it I triumphantly pulled it out. It was form fitting, hugging my curves, covering everything but leaving little to the imagination. The scoop neckline showed a goodly amount of cleavage. I had bought it on a whim two years ago for a cocktail party. I modeled it for Tom while he was watching the end of a basketball game. He never did finish that game, instead he fucked me hard on the family room couch, and then asked me not to wear it to the party. Looking back I remember I was not happy with his request. I loved how powerful and sexy I felt in that dress. Well here was my chance to get a different man's reaction. I pulled out some strappy sandals and slipped them on. Noticing my feet I snatched up the phone, calling my favorite salon. "Simon? This is Laura...... fine, I'm just fine. Tom and the kids are gone for the week and I thought this would be the perfect time to come in and pamper myself. Simon, I want it all, head to toe.....give me the works! Is there any chance I could get in today?....Sure, I can be there shortly" Five hours later I stood at the desk, handing the clerk my card. "Laura, you look stunning," Simon beamed at my side, fluttering about. Hands on his hips he declared, "I am so good it scares me at times." He spun me around for the benefit of the clerk, who laughed at his antics, "Check this out Susie-Q She is so gorgeous and has no where to go." He shook his head, "What a shame. I swear Laura I am tempted to take you out myself, no matter how upset my Henri would get!" I laughed and assured Simon that I would not let his hard work go unappreciated and that I would find something to do. Then I headed home, watching the clock. The car would be arriving to pick me up in an hour. Exactly at 4:30 a sleek black Lexus pulled up. I met the uniformed driver at the door and allowed him to escort me outside, opening the door and whisking me away. I sat in the back seat nervous and frightened. What was I thinking? At least four times I leaned forward intending to tell the driver, take me home, Now!!!!!!! Only to sit back and bite my lip, determined to try this. The car pulled through the gates of an impressive home in a quiet neighborhood. As we drove up to a massive portico I could see well tended gardens that led down to the lake. Waiting at the front was a man, dressed casually in khakis and a white shirt. The shirt glowed against his tanned skin and I returned his smile as he gallantly opened the door and helped me out of the car. He tucked my arm under his and led me into the house. "Ah. Laura, Monica did not tell me how very sexy you were." His fingertips slid sensuously along the skin of my inner wrist and he gazed deep into my eyes. "I am certainly glad you called me. I think we are both going to find this to be mutually satisfying if you are only half as sensuous as you are beautiful." The home he led me into was a showplace. Tastefully decorated, full of beautiful fabrics, furnishings, and art. To the left of the foyer was a large room full of shades of blue and deep green. As we passed I noticed a bar, and lovely, intimate groupings of couches and love seats. Immediately pass this room the foyer opened up with a ceiling that soared upward to a beautiful skylight done in stain glass. A double stair case rose up on each side of the room to meet directly ahead of us. It appeared as if a hallway led away from this second story landing to bedrooms I assumed. "Please, this way" Nick indicated, opening a door so cleverly done it blended right in with the paneled walls of the foyer. I followed, trying not to gape, at this lovely home. :If you have any questions about anything please feel free to ask." We had entered what looked like a private suite of rooms. Nick seated me on the couch and then walked over to a large desk in the corner. Picking up the phone, I over heard him instruct , that he was not to be disturbed for anything. Then he seated himself next to me and offered me a glass of wine, which I gladly accepted. For awhile we chatted about the business. He had been doing this for 5 years and had a dozen women working for him. He was open and answered all my questions. Finally after an hour or so I paused just trying to take in all the information he had given me. Nick watched me as I sipped the red wine and I blushed, finally demanding he stop looking at me He smiled and moved a bit closer. I noticed the way his dark hair curled about his collar and how velvety brown his eyes were. "But I cannot help but stare, Laura. Your friend Monica said you were a beautiful woman but I am afraid she did not do you justice. Your lush figure, your tempting skin, your full lips," he reached out running his fingertip over my lower lip, "Just looking at you makes me want to see what is under that delightfully teasing dress." I blushed, feeling terribly naive. What had made me think that I could do this. That a man would pay money to spend time with me. "I think I might have made a mistake," I started to say, preparing to stand up. Nick moved closer, slipping his arm around me. "What makes you say that, Laura? He took my hand placing it on his crotch? My eyes widened as I felt the hardness already evident there. "Please stay. I am enjoying getting to know you more and I think it is evident that I would definitely like to know you even better but Laura," he took my chin in his hand, tipping my face up and looking deep into my eyes, "you are the one in control here. I want you to know that. You are the one that makes the decision about whether I do anything about this," he pulsed under my hand, "or we just enjoy the wine and some warm conversation. Do you understand baby? It is up to you." I had the power. The power to walk out the door and take only the memory of an amazing visit and a sexy man that had already made me feel more desirable than I had in years or the option to take more. I moved closer reaching out, my fingertips teasing his full lip. I leaned over letting my lips move up the side of his face, nibbling along his jawline. He groaned as my teasing lips moved over his sensitive skin. I whispered in his ear, "What can I do for you Nick?? Hmmmm?" My tongue flicked out wetting his ear lobe. He moaned softly. I let my hands slip up over his shirt. Feeling the firm outline of muscles under the shirt. Suddenly I wanted to touch his skin, to run my lips over him, tasting him. My hands tugged the shirt out of his waistband and slipped underneath the fabric, gliding over his warm skin, my fingers slipping up over his smooth chest. My searching fingertips found his hard male nipples and pinched them lightly, causing him to let his head fall back, biting his lip for control. I leaned closer and let my warm wet mouth slip over him, sucking his nipple into a hard pebbly point. He gasped and I felt his hand touch lightly in my hair. My mouth moved across his chest and gave his other nipple equal attention as my nails scratched a path downward, catching in his waistband. I looked up, my blue eyes twinkling as I inquired, "How am I doing Nick?" He smiled back, and closed his eyes as I slid my hand over the hardness of his erection, "Baby, you are amazing. You can tell how horny you are making me, can't you? I want to fuck you so bad, but I won't. Not until you tell me to baby." His hand covered mine pressing me more intimately against his hard cock. "But do you want to waste something like this," he grinned? I shook my head slowly, "No I don't want to waste it. In fact I know exactly what I want to do with it." My hands undid the button on his pants, slowly unzipping them. I slipped my hand inside, nothing but the silk of Nick's boxers, between my eager hand and his hard tool. I let my hand wrap around him, stroking, pulling the silky fabric tight over the engorged head of his cock. I leaned over kissing Nick softly on the lips as my hand stroked him through the silk. "I want this Nick," I whispered, "I want it very badly." His hips thrust involuntarily at my words, "Then take it baby, take it," he begged. I felt his hand reach around me sliding the zipper of my dress down exposing my back, his hands slipped into the dress caressing the skin of my back and expertly opening the hooks of my sheer bra. I slipped to my knees before him, struggling to keep the unfastened dress and loosened bra still on I moved between his outstretched legs. He watched and reached down, slipping the dress and bra down. The bra fell to the floor forgotten and my dress bunched about my waist leaving my full breasts bare. His hands reached for them but then remembered and biting his lip he let them drop to his lap where he rubbed the head of his cock through the emerald green silk. I moved closer shoving his knees apart, reaching down I trapped his hands in mine and pinned them to the sides of his strong thighs. Leaning down I rubbed my face back and forth, he groaned, and I smiled, releasing his hands which then slid through the soft silky strands of my hair. I inhaled, smelling the scent of his skin, and then exhaled, blowing hot steamy breaths against him. My hands slid up grasping the waistband of his khakis, tugging them down. "Lift your hips," I demanded, dragging the boxers with them. Nicks hard cock sprang free and I paused, "Sit back Nick, I want to look at you." I licked my lips as I stared. It was average in size, actually slightly smaller than Tom's, but thicker, with an engorged head. He groaned as my head lowered, "Hungry Baby," he asked? "Greedy?" Bordello Giselle stood on her new heels. She looked up into the mirror at the ceiling. Yes, she looked lovely. She was very beautiful indeed. All the pampering and the excited anticipation had aroused her to a state of wetness. Her pink nipples pushed the thin material of her bra. But what was it for? All these days she had been in this room she had been naked and open to be fucked and used. Why was she now clad in this exquisite lingerie? Was she to be collected? A surge of hopeful excitement made her heart race. Maybe Mistress would come and take her back? Oh yes, please. Let it be she. Of course it was just a new guest. A tall, red haired man in his forties. He grinned and hardly looked at her. His big, bony hands started to tear off her expensive outfit. Soon he rammed his already hard cock down her throat. He spent his sperm inside her bowels after he penetrated her unready sphincter in one excruciating thrust. In a few hours she got used by at least ten men in all her hardly healed orifices. She felt numb, struck down, abandoned. She had no tears left. She cried a bit, but only between guests. She had to look her best each time the door opened anew. Two rude teenage boys fucked her throat and ass in concerted haste. Then they cast her aside. She had lost her consciousness. She lay stretched on the bed, belly down. Fat teenage sperm seeped from between her cheeks. It also leaked from her crusted lips. The voice was soft and a bit hoarse. But it filled the whole room. Not as if it came from all around. It sounded right inside her skull. And it woke her. "Bonjour, mon enfant, » it whispered. "Comment vas-tu, ma petite puuuuutain?" The last word was extended. Its final syllable rose into a soft giggle. The girl on the bed raised her head and looked around. "Mistress," she croaked. Her throat was raw. She tried to rise to her knees. "Stay down, sweet thing," the voice went on. "Rest a while, darling. You have worked so haaaaard." And again the soft giggle crowned the last word. Giselle now knew her mistress watched her. She wasn't in the room. She must be up there, behind the mirror. At last. Her heart raced at the thought. "Mistress," she said again, this time with more force. There was a silence. It lasted a minute. Giselle had by now found the strength to sit up and look at the ceiling. She tried in vain to see what might lie beyond. The voice was real, or was it? She did not dream it, did she? Her chest tightened as the silence endured. Then the voice returned in breezy whispers. Giselle let her pent up breath escape. "Dis-moi, chérie, » the voice said. "Are you mad at me? I could understand if you are." Giselle made her tender ass sink onto her heels. She pondered the question. It had taken her by surprise. Would a blind man understand the concept of colours? Where would she find the words anymore to understand anger, let alone answer the question? She just looked at her own reflection. She swallowed hard. "I love you, Mistress," she said and sobbed. "I know, sweet child," the voice said. Another silence followed. The voice was even softer when it spoke again. "Anna tells me you have been very good, Giselle." The girl stared in silence. She understood. Her sweet Mistress had not been here at all to watch over her. All these cruel days and painful nights she had felt the green gaze upon her. But it had been an illusion, a feverish dream. She had been alone all along. "Thank you, Mistress," she whispered. She pitched forward and broke down in a torrent of tears. Her shoulders shook. From her throat rose a wailing sound. She sank into a bottomless pool of misery, feeling things shift in her mind. Sluices opened, dams broke. A huge tsunami swept away the last remnants of her naïve hope and desperate optimism. She lost all control over her body. She lay shaking and trembling on the soaked silk of sheets and pillows. Tears ruined her face. Squirts of urine ran down her thighs and into the mattress. All her strength must have been concentrated in the one presumption that her mistress would have seen her struggle these gruesome nights and days. That she had watched her and would have been pleased. But she had been all-alone all the time. An uncaring, indifferent mistress had abandoned her. This revelation tore the last straw from her clenching fist. She fell into a seething river. She drowned, gasped for air. She thrashed in the water and clawed with desperate hands. But as she looked up, the banks slid away. They disappeared in a curtain of mist. Soft leather gloved fingers touched her shoulder. Where they touched, sparks of electricity seemed to dance down her chest and spine. She lay silent. She drifted motionless. Before her mind's eye a golden shape stepped from the white swirling clouds. A pale woman walked on the waters. She was naked but clad in a halo of gold. Her face was soft and featureless. She was like the clouds, but her eyes were a sparkling emerald green. They seemed to dash out of the mists and sink into her receptive eyes. "Giselle," a voice lisped. A hand reached out to take hers. It pulled her up towards the holy creature. "Giselle," the voice repeated. It sank into her like warm, glowing honey. "Giselle, you are forgiven." The clouds dissipated as soon as the words were spoken. The waves abated. The roaring thunder of the winds left her ears. A second hand reached out. She felt herself being pulled into the softest of hugs. A tongue caressed her drenched face. It travelled down her throat and chest. It centred on a screaming nipple. Her flesh evaporated into this woman she knew, yet saw for the first time in her life. The hot, wet lips spread around her breast. Then they sucked in the flesh. From the centre of her being ran dizzying rivers to the most remote niches of her body. A new sob wracked her frame. It set off wonderful sensations. Trembles and shivers made her feel like the taut string on a musical instrument. Soft reverberations danced up and down her soul. They started the sweetest, inaudible music that ever touched her senses. The mouth reached her crotch by now. It pushed against her flesh as if the mouth itself were a body of soft, rippling water. Wet, insistent pressure spread her cunt lips. It entered her like the undulating, sinewy body of a snake. When she came, the sky exploded into gushes of molten lava. There were streams of fire, galaxies of stars. Their two entwined bodies shook in unison. They spread shockwaves of energy around them. At last the shaking stopped. Their voices drowned in a pool of whispers. There are moments when a woman's face becomes the forlorn image of a lost child. Her eyes swim with tears and mascara turns into smudges of soot. The rims of the eyes turn red. So does the skin around the nose and nostrils. The lower lip shines with snot and saliva. It trembles like a leaf in a merciless wind. The face opens in a way no man is able to understand. It gains a vulnerability no man can ever fathom, only destroy. Giselle was that child now. Her bottomless misery touched the soul of her Mistress. It strangled Angique with a childlike fist and took away her breath. She cupped the child's face and ran a slow tongue over its surface. She lapped at the salty tears on cheeks and lips. Then she ran the trembling tip of it around the closed eyes. She felt the eyeballs shiver behind their velvet screens. She heard a low moan leave the throat. "Mommy."