19 Shillings

"Stands for all hands on deck. It's just the times when a fleet comes in and we all work our socks off for a few days. Happens every couple of months." She explained. There was a pointed break in the conversation punctuated by endless smut, and at one point a man and a working girl pushed past us holding hands and eager to join the cacophony.

"So what do you do around here?" I asked. The woman looked at me like I had just asked her what colour the sky was. Clearly she has sex with men, on other nights it would be her bedsprings and moans of ecstacy drilling into my brain. "Let me rephrase that, what are the best and worst parts of what you do?"

Ivy was lost in thought for a moment, a thought I hoped would conclude quickly as the heavy silence once again left me nothing to focus on but the raucous lovemaking filling the air, the walls echoing with the shouted order of 'suck it clean you dirty fuck pig!'

"I guess the worst part is if Tallboy calls you in for a valuation. Every so often he wants to re-evaluate how much you should charge, so he'll have you in his office, obeying a variety of instructions while he feeds back every flaw and weakness you have before putting an exact monetary figure on you. It makes you feel like livestock with a risk that you will be getting a pay cut at the end of it." Ivy explained.

While I was shocked at the practice, the social scientist in me was intrigued, in my world value was assigned through the cumulation of subtle rumours, things you had done to please or displease the court subjectively built up. I'd love the whole game of bluff and bluster to be replaced with a single uncomfortable session where you're given your worth and could conduct your courtly activities accordingly. More pertinent to my studies, each girl having a set value made quantifying the economic impact of prostitution so much easier. I made a mental note to ask Tallboy for each woman's valuation so I could work out totals and averages of money flowing through the business.

"Best part," Ivy interrupted, "it's got to be the girls. We're all in the same boat, we all have stories, we all live together and we all have each other's backs. Before I worked for Tallboy I was in back alleys, pretty much on my own, so many hairy and terrifying moments, followed by isolation, pain, and sadness."

"Doesn't Tallboy keep you safe?" I asked, trying to guide the conversation.

"In a way. He cares about getting money from his investments, so someone roughing us up will usually have a meeting arranged with one of his goons to aggressively gather compensation for lost business. So locals and regulars won't lay hands, but with the sailors you need to move fast so they aren't back on the boat before the meeting can occur. So if any girl gives the secret knock, we lock down the floor until we can point out the culprit to one of the heavies. So I trust my girls more than Tallboy, but at least with Tallboy our interests align."

I struggled to hide my deep envy, I was sure I did not have the moral incertitude to pay the price needed for this camaraderie, but I could count on one finger the people looking out for me in a similar fashion. My colleagues resent a woman intruding in their phallocentric academia, while everyone in the royal court is looking to curry favour at the expense of anyone else in proximity. All I can count on is my husband, but with status muddying the waters of motivations, I had to wonder if I would have such a link of mutual trust if I threatened his place in high society.

'It would certainly threaten his place in high society for me to get a valuation with Tallboy, especially if I didn't fetch at least five pounds.' I thought to myself, before giggling at the thought, then collapsing inwards on my shame. The sound of all this smut echoing in my ears must be getting to me.

"So if you had a chance to escape this life, to become a farm worker or housewife, would you take it?" I asked. Ivy stood lost in thought for a moment, but just as she was about to answer Tallboy emerged from the basement.

"Sorry to interrupt but Ivy, I have one of your regulars here for you, Garth." Tallboy announced. Ivy gave me a sheepish nod.

"Garth is a good man, if all my customers were like him, the answer to your question would be yes without hesitation." Ivy chirped as she descended into the cellar, leaving me alone with Tallboy and the familiar wails of pleasure seeping out of the walls.

"Mr. Tallboy, why did you accept my offer?" I asked in all sincerity but predominantly to dispel the sense of awkwardness only affecting me.

"You paid me." He replied with a smirk.

"A fraction of what you make in a single night to pass information about your business on to the king himself. Does that seem like a good trade to you?" I observed.

"Well what do you know, you're not as out of touch as I first thought. There's 2 reasons I accepted your request. Firstly my business is always changing, adapting to have edge over law enforcement. Here I saw an opportunity to run you through business as usual so when the lawmen start reading your paper, every back alley pimp that hasn't moved on will be behind bars while their customers look to my adapted and booming business for entertainment." He explained.

"Pre-adjustment, plenty of legitimate enterprises run by someone with the king's ear do the exact same thing. Clever. And the second reason?"

"Because your obvious discomfort is hilarious." He chuckled as he led me back down into the basement.

As I arrived into the basement, Ivy was arm in arm with an unremarkable man, walking him over to me with an unnerving mixture of levity and focus.

"This is the girl I was talking about, big fancy lady from the royal court come to learn how us honest ladies live." She announced to a torrent of laughter only capable of being conjured up by a man wishing to sleep with a lady.

"You learning a lot from our Ivy?" Garth added, without taking his adoring eyes off the woman of the night.

"Plenty." I curtly replied, the subsequent laughter confirming it was not only Tallboy who found my discomfort humourous.

"If you really wanted to learn from Ivy, you'd come back to her room with us and watch her do what she does best." Garth laughed as he ran his hand down Ivy's back and with an astounding lack of subtlety grabbed her bottom.

"If it's OK with Ivy." I replied, shocking all the chortling faces into silence, although that shock was certainly matched within myself. It then filled me with a deep sense of gratification that I was able to rub that smug look of social schadenfreude off their faces, even if the consequences of such a daring social gambit loomed large in front of me.

"Alright then." Ivy agreed, "no extra charge, I will let princess professor here sit in the corner and watch me give you more pleasure on one night than she has given the lifetime of protestant missionary sex she shared with her husband." Ivy agreed with a smirk. There were people watching this agreement, including Tallboy, I couldn't back down now, I would expose my cowardice and lose their respect, it would hobble my study before it began.

"Very well, lead the way." I squeaked, utterly failing to keep my voice level and in control.

As we climbed the stairs out of the basement, the lewd concerto once again filled my ears, just to add to my discomfort Garth decided to lift Ivy's skirt. From my vantage point below them on the stairs, I was able to see her most indelicate areas, confirming with mind-blowing clarity that she had not been wearing bloomers throughout all our interactions.

As we ascended the stairs, the noise of sexual Congress surrounded and enveloped me, by the time we were in Ivy's room, the sound of degradation was not simply a loud but directioned impulse like the orchestra at a concert, it was now a all consuming presence, like sailing in the midst of a storm.

The door closed and immediately the lovers embraced while I took a seat on a nearby, unoccupied bed. Their embrace was to spur on their passions, but also to press their bodies together as their furious hands got to work stripping off any and all coverings caught in the frantic whirlwind of lust.

Ivy was clearly the more experienced and had Garth completely naked while he was still loosening her corsetry. Her hand rubbing against his stiff member (larger than my husband's but not by a significant amount) as he loosened her bodice and allowed her dress to fall to the floor. He then practically ripped off the wispy petticoat that accounted for the entirety of Ivy's underclothes. The moment she was disrobed, Ivy did not waste time plastering kiss after kiss on Garth's body as she slowly lowered herself onto her knees to take his member into her mouth.

I had once tried oral sex with my husband, we had both agreed it was too unseemly to form part of our regular lovemaking routine, but to watch it being performed so expertly in such squalid conditions, I couldn't help but admire that unseemliness. Ivy had figuratively and literally lowered herself, but in doing so she had shown her rare and unique skill, taking charge of the room from beneath him.

Suddenly and without warning, Garth pushed Ivy backwards onto the bed and like a man possessed jumped on top of her. He manoeuvred into position, then suddenly pulled away.

"Don't tease me Garth, give me that big cock of yours." Ivy salaciously begged.

"Absolutely, just as soon as you rotate around a bit so I can see the look on our little bookworm's face as I make a woman out of you." Garth ordered. I chuckled with a mixture of nerves and politeness, but he was dead serious as Ivy shuffled into position.

It was far more intense than I was anticipating, watching Garth look me dead on the eyes as he mounted Ivy. She moaned with pleasure as his cock slid into her, then after a moment's pause he started thrusting with relentless power. He seemed to take great delight in observing my wandering eyes as they traced Ivy's bouncing breasts, down to the blur of colliding flesh where their nethers met then up his body. I blushed, if I had shared their state of undress I'm sure they would have been able to observe the full extent of such an all consuming blush, my body was radiating heat from my destruction of a deliberate ignorance born of bashfulness.

"Make sure to take notes." Garth announced as he pulled himself out of Ivy and shuffled himself up her body, his hand now providing the vigorous stimulation previously delivered by Ivy's womanhood. He was looking me dead in the eyes as his ejaculate sprung forth from his penis and splashed itself upon Ivy's cleavage and face.

Garth chuckled as he redressed. He pulled a handful of shillings out of his pocket and left them on a small nightstand next to the bed (probably only there for this purpose) before leaving Ivy behind, she had not deigned to move from where he had left her even to wipe away his seed. The moment the door closed she perked up again.

"Does his seminal fluid clinging to his body not bother you?" I asked.

"Quite the opposite, if it's on me then it isn't in me. That's why Garth is a favourite client of mine." Ivy explained as she grabbed a hideous looking rag from the corner of the room to wipe herself off.

"So how does that work, the whole pregnancy issue? Presumably every client is not as conscientious as Garth." I continued to question just to take my mind off the freshly violated woman casually cleaning the mess off her naked body in front of me.

"It happens, but Tallboy keeps us off on our most risky days, has a herbalist with a pretty strong success rate at keeping pregnancies away after a guy cums in you, and a darker but equally strong success rate of dealing with those that beat the odds. He's got a few navy medics on the payroll to keep him apprised of what is the crotch rot dejure and how to spot those who have it, he's even been known to pay them a bonus to get them kept on the boat for treatment during shore leave." Ivy elaborated as she finished wiping off Garth's ejeculate and moved on to reapplying her makeup.

"Not exactly a hundred percent safety."

"Nothing in this life is." Ivy wistfully countered, as if that was an appropriate rebuttal. "How would you like to join in with the next client?"

At that I felt she had overstepped her familiarity and I immediately made my excuses to leave, this first night had been more than enough for my constitution.

Tallboy just chuckled as I walked out of the door.

...

I doubt there are many who have had a more surreal of an experience than I had explaining my night to my husband. Viscount Montegue at first seemed intrigued to learn the activities of the morally and economically destitute, but as my story became more lurid, he became more upset and saddened at the situation I had found myself in.

"I think this has gone far enough. I know it was a request from the king, but I feel like you have everything you need to not have to put yourself in danger any further." He quibbled.

"I'm afraid I have only scratched the surface, a report completed at the personal request of the king should not have corners cut. This valuation angle is a great way of pushing forward with an economic analysis." I replied.

"Well maybe you could take this nugget and embellish around it, it's not like anyone at the royal court would know." He suggested, thinking he was being helpful, but only raising my hackles and along with them a desire not to have this descend into an argument.

"Let's not talk about that, you know how we get when our working lives collide. Besides, I had a better idea." I announced, walking over to my husband and sitting on his lap. "How would you like to try ravishing my body, before pulling out and finishing over my heaving bosom?"

"That you can think about sex after such an experience speaks to the absolute depravity of the environment in which you have been placed. I dare not cross the king or any that have his ear, but at first opportunity I will seek your speedy extrication from this horrendous situation. Until then I desire rest, and I highly suggest you avail yourself of it as well."

...

I did not get rest that night, in fact all I got was a pile of frustrations and heightened emotions. Part of me was upset with my husband for thinking me so fragile I needed his heroic political manoeuvring to rescue my dignity, while the other part had noticed that he was still not going to unless he could do so without making too many political waves. I once again thought back to the political expediency of our marriage and wondered what place love actually had in it.

These were all the thoughts swirling around my mind a few days later as I returned to Tallboy's building for another night of observation.

"Surprised you came back considering the rate of knots you sailed out of here the other night." Tallboy chuckled as I entered his establishment.

"No doubt what I witnessed was shocking, but I owe it to academia to do a full, thorough, and accurate report." I replied, rebuking my absent husband.

"Very well, quiet night tonight though, doubt you'll see too much new. Turns out those merchant clippers Earnie spotted were just doing an overnight stop for provisions so today seems to be locals only." Tallboy informed, leading me back down to the basement. It was quite a sight, the staff seemed to outnumber the customers and the few men availing themselves of services seemed in no hurry to move on to private rooms considering the attention they were getting. "You might see something interesting if I get word back from a friend of mine. Until then you might as well mingle."

"Well if that's the situation, would you mind if I saw your valuations of the girls working for you?" I asked to Tallboy's gruting agreement. He quickly scribbled down his analysis on a poece of parchment and let me study it as I sat in the basement observing the business at work.

I spent an hour making detailed notes of Tallboy's valuations for mathematical purposes before moving on to lots of small interviews with some of the working girls. They mostly confirmed what Ivy had told me with a few little tidbits along the way. I even deigned to try a glass of the alcohol being served, which I was expecting to be of a far lower quality considering the home-brewed nature of it. A man walked up to Tallboy and whispered something in his ear, a smile lit up his face and he called me over.

"You're about to see an innovation we wheel out for quiet nights like this one." He said to me before standing in the bar and banging a glass on the table to get the room's attention. "Tiffany, Bernadette, Carol, Flo, and Rachel. Promotion duty. Take the viscountess here so she can see what that means."

Five women groaned in unison at his order as they trudged up the steps. I followed behind them, curious but worried.

"Promotion basically means Tallboy has made sure nothing bad will happen to us, with the law or the public, if we go make it really clear what happens in here while standing in the street out front." The girl closest to me explained as they led me out of the front door. I was about to ask what that meant but my question was answered as soon as we emerged into the well lit street out front.

Immediately the women erupted into a chorus of beckonings and catcalls, men who were walking by were offered services in the bluntest possible terms. Worse still, it would become commonplace for an errant breast to escape recently loosened bodices, or for a cheeky flash of thigh to climb a bit too high and show off something far naughtier.

The street outside Tallboy's was a busy thoroughfare, the bustling high street at the heart of this poor section of town. I couldn't believe such a public and vibrant area would tolerate the sudden overtly sexual imposition of these ladies.

I watched the eyes of passing men linger on the depravity these girls were demonstrating, their manly designs always clearly arisen from the deviant show the women were putting on. But it was an absolute shock to the system for me to notice that as they scanned each girl, their eyes would inevitably wander over my body in turn. As far as they were concerned I was with them, one of the bodies for display and sale. Sure I was dressed far more conservatively, leading some men to wonder what angle the brothel was working, having a respectably dressed woman stand among the whores while trying to insist she wasn't with them. This nevertheless did not stop their wandering eyes, and the deep feeling of degrading warmth that ran over my body as they eyed me up for purchase.

As I stood wide-eyed and still, one of the women, in a fit of playfulness, decided to quickly lift up my skirt and display my bloomers to passersby. I screamed with embarrassment, collapsing into a ball as my world became surrounded by laughter. The prostitutes and the men gleefully agreeing that I needed to lighten up. My protestations that I was not for sale falling on deaf ears considering my continued insistence on staying in the company of whores advertising their wares.

From that moment on, small acts of picking on me became something of a trend. At first I found my bloomers becoming more and more familiar to the inhabitants of the area. The woman then moved to stolen kisses and at one point a very forceful act of groping on my well contained breasts. Each time I would scream in mortification while the working girls laughed.

"Would you cut out such behaviour, why would you do such a thing?" I yelled in frustration.

"Because the people love it. We've had way more people interested since we started playing around with you. We're not going to let you get a cock in you, that's our business. But you have to understand what gives you a small blush, puts food on our table. Now, are you so elitist you'd trade our livelihood to preserve the mystery of your unremarkable bloomers?" One of the women argued (I think it was Tiffany).