Indebted - Part 2 (SFW Version)
Follow our protagonist through life in a brothel.
Note that since this is set in a brothel and does concern illegal work ran by a criminal group, some might need to skip this.
Indebted, part two: Continuing from the shed after having been kidnapped into this strange world.
I woke up to the orange flare of the setting sun accompanied with the sudden shuffling of the locks in the door.
“we have 30 minutes before we need to go" said the black-armed werewolf who had come in, shutting the door behind him
“Here's the menu. You're charging category I rates." he said, holding a leaflet. “They're all intuitive, you shouldn't need that much guidance. You're obviously experienced."
I didn't complain. the earlier i got work, the earlier i'd pay off the debt. Maybe i'd want to escape in the future. It's about keeping doors open, really.
“If you ever feel unsafe, remember that there's the bell system. Doesn't matter, anyways, we'll be supervising you for the first few nights" he explained.
He walked to me and passed the menu to me. I saw three separate sections, each with a little grid breaking down each service and its prices in ascending order from category V to category I.
In the foreplay section, i saw massages and dances for sale, accompanied by other things. I'd have to charge about ¤80 per minute for the massage. It felt exorbitant, especially given Category V'd have to charge only ¤10 per massage session.
“We'll put 15% of what you earn towards your debt, and once paid, to your wage. The rest goes to keeping you safe", he explained. "It's dangerous for the public to see you, so you stay inside the brothel at all times."
"Wait, so you forced me here knowing it was so dangerous here?!" I asked him, finding my voice
“Well, not exactly dangerous if you follow our simple rules, but the outsiders are scared of humans", he said. “The police have orders to shoot on sight. They never enter the brothel… as part of their work."
“We're a specialty brothel in a way; humans are weird and exciting to our clientele", he said.
The straight-eared one walked in too, armed with a calculator. He came to the futon to accompany black-arms, making me feel slightly hemmed-in.
“If you make ¤500 per night, then…." he said, tapping away on his calculator. “You'll need about 400 nights in the brothel."
“If you somehow manage to make ¤1,000 per night, you'll only need 200 nights", he added.
Take the ¤500 and multiply it by 100 and multiply it by 4; that's ¤50,000, going into 5*4, 20, so… ¤200,000 in total, and only ¤30,00 to my debt!
“Isn't it unfair there's ¤200,000 in total?!", i said in a little shock
“Oh, but it's all for a good cause", he said. “Lawyers are expensive and the officers' demands for bribes only ever get higher."
“It's all in the contract you signed", said the black-armed one.
We left the shed, i wearing some kind of informal gown, and we embarked to the brothel, i in the tiny boot of the car.
It had quite an underwhelming façade. An unlit sign, “the spice restaurant (?$$ entry)" was affixed to a plain wall sitting above a door leading into a room filled the the acidic odor of cigarette smoke alongside quite a hefty spot of body odor.
Inside the dim room, i saw lavish furnishings, decorated in a seductory red and a diverse group of creatures loitering around. The room was much larger then you'd expect from the facade; it went well into the domain of the other houses on the street, hell, i could see the holes made in the walls of this house! Signs pointed every which way, pointing out the different categories. Category III was the closest one.
The gentle murmur of an anxious conversation between people filled the room, some conversations audible over the noise.
“How many days in are you?"
“20. It's so strange here."
“I would've figured. I've got 20 left."
“Of how many?"
“300."
We walked across the maze of hallways to category I's position, somewhat distant from the front door.
There were only 3 humans here, i included. We all seemed to be category I.
I was instructed to find a place in the category I seating area, in which a muscular hunk and a smaller, skinny human sat, accompanied by what seemed to be a Minotaur.
Joining me came my supervisor, the black-armed werewolf, who sat silently next to me.
"Er... hi?" I half-mumbled to who seemed to be my coworkers.
"Hi! You seem new!", said the skinny one. "i was begging to get a bit tired of Muscle Mike and Mr Troy here"
Those were silly names, i thought.
“How many days do you have?" asked the smaller human to me.
“At ¤1,000 per night, 200" i replied. "Maybe 400 though if i only get ¤500 per night."
“Oh, we hardly make any more then ¤900 on a good night. Think of ¤500 as a normal rate"
“I have 400 days here?!"
“Well… yeah, but…. not exactly", he said. "You'll be spending an extra month or so here putting money in the 'life bank' thing they have"
I did a quick mental calculation; take my 500 per night, find a tenth of it and a half of a tenth; 50 and 25, add them together, 75, multiply it by 10, 750, and multiply it by 3… er, thats 50, 50, and 50 first double, and then 50 and 25… so, er…
“¤225!" i blurted out.
“Not that much, right?" replied my skinny co-worker.
“Well then, how many days have you?" i asked, to distract myself from the meager amount.
“Oh, well, i decided to, to stay here" he responded. “It's a much simpler life here, you'll find."
“How long did you spend before that, then?"
“Well, i got 70 days for borrowing ¤5,000. It's been around 300 days, and i'm loving it!" he exclaimed. “I'm a lawyer. As soon as i began reading up on this case for someone's lawsuit, i was sold. Fuck lawyering!"
"And guess who's getting to be fucked every night? I even get paid!" he blurted.
“Oh, don't listen to him. you'll be sodomised for days on end. I hate it here." shaded the muscle-man. “you'll be begging to leave. Look at the the categories Vs and IVs. Do you see the tension in them? The desire to leave?"
I looked over at where he was gesturing, at the two banks of crowded seats filled with prostitutes anxiously tapping away, fidgeting away the time. Some played card games.
"I want to leave. I can just step out of the door right now!" cut through the air, from them.
“Not with your debt, you wont be able to. They'll kidnap you, possibly even send you to prison" warned a respondent. “You don't want to go there, no…"
“You're fucked, mate" muscle-man said. “Like, you're seriously fucked."
A werewolf walked through the corridor and to a very main-looking door; it looked far more extravagant then the one we had entered through, even from the inside. They unlocked a box and flipped a switch. The dim lighting suddenly changed as a warmer and redder compliment met it, the buzzing of the neon sign outside beginning its monotone tone. A bartender walked to the bar and began wiping down tables, rinsing cups, dusting surfaces, and a handful of other activities.
A smell of detergent washed through the room, overtaking the semen smell which had entered the air from the opening of the sex rooms.
A little clink as the lock keeping the main door closed released, letting it swing open to let a cold breeze run through the main room. I hadn't noticed how humid it had gotten as the dry night air came to meet us.
The first clients arrived second later, a line of about 14 of them matching up with the categories they wanted, cutting off to a more meager but still substantial rate. Eventually one came to our table. It was a hunk of a werewolf. He seemed to be a guy who might get sex very easily. Why was he here…? I wondered if he'd want the “chocolate sundae" or the “shower of gold", two menu items i dreaded. Kinky people tend to be willing to pay.
"If you want this guy, be gentle; its his first time", advised my black-armed supervisor.
“Finally, there's some new game here! Oh, it's been too long...", he said. “A massage and one anal dominance session, then."
A strange surprise that he wanted such a mild things. Maybe not, maybe i was his kink…?
I asked for my payment, a ¤75 for a "starter" and a ¤130 for a “main". They happily gave me the tired banknotes they hid in their pockets, with no reluctance to pay the full amount. Another strange surprise; he was willing to pay so much?
"Those are mine", the black-armed werewolf reminded me as soon as my new client passed them over. Not a single second in my fingers, either!
"Well, that's a good ¤205…", he said. “¤30 towards your debt."
We three ended up passing into the hallway to the sex room. "Get key 205. He likes it when the number matches the price. Careful to take from 'r' for ready; 'c' will be a filthy room."
Each number on the board had two hooks, the first labelled “c" and the second "r". I found 205 and took the r hook's single key.
"Would you mind me coming along?", asked my supervisor, to my client.
"I want to try this new flesh alone" replied my client, with an almost sultry tone.
"Ok then, just remember to remind him how you like it. He's a little underripe", said my supervisor, hinting.
We walked together through a maze of hallways, the numbers increasing slowly. We ended going up about two floors and popping onto a room just a few metres from the door, which i unlocked. We walked in, turning on the light and guided him to the bed in the center.
I had finished my work. I thought i did well.
"3/10, could have been slower", he said as he caught his breath. Damn him!
Back in the main room, waiting for a client to come over to the table and request me, i heard heavy footsteps upstairs, reverberating throughout the whole of the main room. They didn't sound like ordinary footsteps for those who'd be in the sex rooms, no, they were intense. Like, kind of enraged.
The stairs creaked and through the main hallway came a werewolf of impressive stature. His body was plump and tense, a tight potbelly providing a kind of foundation for his scowling face, a scar for one of his eyes.
He was holding in his hands a confectionery bar. I could barely read it, but i managed to read some of the words through his fingers; "Hem", "at", and "gen". He stared at some point between me and black-arms, a mad glare burning into our bodies just from the reflection on the couch.
"You two, from category I!"
A pause.
"You two; the supervisor and his dumb little whore, damn you! UP!"
We two were walked to a sex room behind him. He turned on the light but fumbled and turned on the different, redder, kind of light.
"Fuck, wait"
He switched to the clinical white light.
“I've heard complaints from our most valuable client that you have no quality! None!"
The black-armed werewolf was just as shocked as i about this whole thing, his mouth kind of agape and a little dread locked in behind his eyes.
"That 45% cut you're getting? You're supposed to be getting good clients for me! I see your fourth bad client so far!"
He ripped off a little clump from the snack bar he was holding and chewed on it, glaring at us two. He swallowed with quite a gulp.
"New kid - you need to be trained, like, properly!"
The angry werewolf shifted his glare to the black-armed one.
"And you, do better next time. That 45% is not going to be 45% if you're so shit at your job! Off, now, softshark!"
The black-armed one stood up. I, with the growing terror, stood up too.
As we walked to the door, i saw him walk off to the bar.
Pushing past the staff-only doors, into the grimy hallways again.
“Why was he so angry?", i asked
“Oh, he's just like that. Power corrupts, i guess", he said. A pause. “Well, he's also one of the main clients and brings quite a hefty sum…. that could play a part."
“Oh", i replied.
We walked down the hallway in a kind of awkward silence, a bit disillusioned from the stern telling-off. My thoughts drifted again. He was just eating a sweet, wasn't he? It did look kind of reddish and brown, though. Was it really a sweet?
"What was he eating?" i asked, curious.
"Oh, just an imported good" my supervisor dismissed.
"Yes, but which?"
"One from your world"
"Which part of it?"
"dunno"
“What's its name?"
“gehmatohjen, very iron-y, texture like toffee. I'm pretty sure it has blood in it"
I retched a little at that statement. Blood and sweets do not mix, at least not in my culture.
He noticed and he made a little comment "Wait until you see him with his black sausages! They're made of the same stuff as his 'oil of life' cocktail he's so fond of!"
I knew nothing about the cocktail but i knew the one thing about black sausages.
We had reached my room of beds. He sat next to me.
"Don't ever turn on the main lights", he explained.
"It's the closest light switch, though", i said.
“Well, go for the further one, then."
“Yes, but the logical one is the closest one; less effort for more intimacy!"
"But it's the wrong one" he said with a little hint of amusement at his own witty comment. “Well, let's move onto the actual training. It'd be a shame to evict you onto the street. You'll die quite quickly without us!"
“I'll go get the expert. You sit tight!" he said as he stood to leave, locking the door.
Only now did i take the time in myself to process my situation i had found myself in.
I imagined a little scenario; i running out of the brothel. I'd be lost in their society. And then, i thought, the policemen would run up to me and shoot me. I'd die instantly outside. We're rare here. That's the only reason such a frail person as i is even in category I, i'm sure.
My fantasies turn out to have strings attached!
Oh, how i do remember home! Such a complicated place, having to provide for one's-self through such a wide manner of ways and methods. How could that be the place i was born?
No, i give up. Here, i think, is a simpler life, in the midst of my fantasies and making a living. Why would i want to return to that damned place?
I heard foot-steps approaching and the door unlocked. To my surprise, straight-ears walked in, holding one of the menus.
I was a little shocked. “You…? I thought you were just the, y'know nerd…?"
“Well, er, mostly, i like money, but my libido grows and grows and it needs to go… somewhere. Here." he replied.
“Right then, let's run over what each service is. It was dumb letting you out without knowing, in retrospect", he said as he sat down. “You'll earn more money once you can manipulate the ropes."
“First, starters. Your client can choose any from here. Let's start with the massage.", he said.
“It really is quite simple; take the lube and spread it on your hands like this", he said as he dropped a few drops and spread them on his hands.
“Take them onto your client, too", he said as he grabbed my legs and put some cold lube on it. He rubbed and it sent tingles down me. I was still very touch deprived and every little movement of his fingers sent tingles down me.
“Now, what you need to do is rub. Look at your client and find the just right amount of pressure", he said as he started making me melt in pleasure from his magic hands. It was an odd thing to get off to, especially after dominating our unsatisfied client.
“See, with the right technique, anything's possible! Earn that damn cash!"
“Now, you try on me", he said, suddenly stopping his magic rubbing.
I took some lube and spread it on his legs. I found his calves and began massaging them, taking the muscle and holding it between my fingers. He had quite a bit of muscle, being a werewolf bigger then me, and i took the time to use my delicate, intricate hands to make intricate movements over his leg. He'd love it!
“Yeah, that's the spot", he said.
“Just keep massaging the area. Remember to always keep moving. They like it more when you keep them going."
I continued for a little while longer. My fingers began tracing a little series of complicated patterns, combing his now-moist hair in new and exciting ways.
“Ok, you should stop now. We've got, like, 5 other damn items to cover."
“Ok, so the reverse massage. Basically the same but you let the client touch you wherever he wants. Remember, no body part in the brothel is sacred!"
We got into the bed and i was the little spoon. He kind of twitched and squeezed me. He sent tingles down me with the way he held me. He was the best thing to sleep with, almost a reverse teddy-bear. He kept me comfy and warm.
We ended up falling asleep and not realising it till we saw the rays of mid-day sunlight beaming through the window.
“Well, that was longer then 20 minutes", my big teddy bear spoke to me. “I've got quite the bit of accounting to do, you know, the morning and all that!"
He stood and left me to this room. It stank; the used condom in the uncovered bin, untied, the musk of straight-ears, who had just left, and the dusty bed.
That's a mess for the cleanup crew. I grabbed the hook and put it onto the “c" mode; “clean this up", i presume.
I went into the main room. It was quite a contrast; i, barely dressed, and everyone here in street clothes.
Black-arms noticed first. He ran off to some place in the staff area and came back with some clothes.
“It's not night; who are you impressing?!"
I put on the clothes.
“Breakfast in 20 minutes!" announced the bartender over the ruckus. The bawdy bodies here were playing card games against one-another, checkers, anything to pass the time for tonight. It was notably emptier then it was the night before; surely, some had left to spend their cash.
Soon after engaging in a game of go fish against my human co-workers, breakfast was called.
We were taken through a series of staff-only hallways and into the cafeteria. At each table, we all got the same food, in different rations; i a meager helping of potatoes, rubbery steak, and some vegetables. The werewolves around me, though, had more steak then anything, the vegetables and potatoes more like a seasoning then anything else.
I should have expected we'd be given institution food.
A few minutes after i had entered an entertaining conversation with muscle Mike (well, that's just his nickname, we don't use real names; there's a risk in real names), the end of dinner was called.
Quite a few of the prostitutes left the building. Black-arms told me it was because about half of them had an outside job they were using to pay off the loan better. Muscle Mike said the other half ran off to enjoy the city. There were a lot of sights, black-arms told me. One day, he might take me out in a bulletproof car to go on a whistle-stop tour, if i earnt enough.
Everyone was busy here, even on the mornings. Straight-ears was probably attacking a spreadsheet and figuring out how to get money properly moved. Black-arms was busy supervising us to make sure we'd be good. Humans were very valuable, apparently. The ones at the brothel the only ones who were living, in the entire city of one million; A handful were at display at the museum to show the werewolves where they came from.
Yellow-hair was taking a gym day.
We were the few who were idle. I wondered the brothel at one point, followed from a distance by black-arms.
There was a lesbian and straight section to the brothel; the three were connected by the sex-rooms hallway. Of course, every sexuality was separated into their own batch of sex rooms, but the accommodation section and food sections were shared. A single cafeteria for all. I managed to glance at the time-table; lesbians first, straights after, gays last. Hey!
It was a very large brothel. Going for a walk around its grounds proved to be a very exercising ordeal. There was a courtyard in the center. Well, not so much a courtyard as a street blocked off on two sides by some wooden buildings connecting into the rest of the brothel. Black-arms said it was a safe place.
I did see other humans; one straight man, two straight women, and three lesbians.
Turns out that before lunch each day, they'd meet and talk in the dormitory. But black-arms would always take care to supervise us, for werewolves knew how powerful a species combined could get, their history being owed to a band of just 5 werewolves. The werewolves came from a failed experiment down in Florida in the 1800s, and somehow managed to run off and develop this whole society from it.
But the 8 humans did form quite a strong bond. They loved to talk about what happened the night before, the interesting things. Apparently, there was a bar fight and one of the category IVs died in the lesbian section. There was a lot of blood, but the manager spilt his cocktail, tripping over them, so that formed a large part of it.
The lawyer, Skinny Joe, as we called him, told us that not much happens in the straight brothel. It's the smallest wing, after all.
Anista (from “nih'sta", from “nightstand", from “one night stand"), one of the straight women, reminded me who we were supposed to protect. We needed the brothel to protect us from the outside. If it died, we'd die pretty soon after. Keeping management happy was quite paramount.
The first lesbian, as a related note, noted that she was hearing plans for a long-term strike spreading in her section of the brothel. It'd bankrupt the place if the idea spread across all three things. The police, unpaid, might just do a raid against the brothel.
And i've just heard that the werewolves whisper through the thin walls of the dormitory at night, and the whispers spread between wings.
The end (of part two; stay tuned to hear if the strike is stopped!)
Some notes:
If you want, the fomula to calculate days for a certain debt is debt/(money per night*0,15)
The werewolves are not to be given names but nicknames. The brothel-specific names, as given by the manager are as follows:
“black-armed" ? “softshark"
“straight-eared" ? “nerd"
“yellow-haired" ? “slightly competent"
The lesbians here have formed an incredibly strong social group. They've learnt to protect themselves from the shit the world throws at them . Keep that in mind.
The lesbians also happen to be teaching the humans how to stay safe.
Yes, the werewolves are night birds!