19 Shillings

"Well, believe it or not, most women come to me, I sit them down in that chair, and I tell them that the first thing they need to do is have a valuation. I cast my expert eye over them, and tell them precisely how much I could get away with charging for their bodies. It's actually very gratifying for the women who use it, they get to know exactly what they are worth in cold, hard, objective cash." Tallboy explained. As he did so I felt a warmth rising up within me, his gaze reminded me of the night I lost my senses, and his words dangled lucious possibilities of more. My words had no force as I pushed back.

"Surely people aren't actually happy to have a monetary value put on them?" I whimpered without any force to my words.

"If I told you, that you could leave this office knowing objectively how sexy you are, how much men would sacrifice just to be with you. Would you take it?" He asked, leaving me to wonder what manner of mind reading he had discovered.

My curiosity ran wild, all my sensibilities seemed to be shutting down. The social scientist within me should have been focussed on the language he was using to trick me into making a mistake, but all it could focus on was the curious certainly of using money as a metric to measure something as subjective as sexiness. The woman in me should have had her guard up to yet another man trying to sweet talk her, but instead felt a wave of appreciation, for her herself and not just her birthright, her status, or one of a myriad of social complexities designed to muddy the waters of interpersonal interactions.

"I would be lying if I said I wasn't curious, but I think..." I weakly began.

"No need to think, and don't worry I'll show my working as I go so you'll have lots to write about in your report." He interrupted, taking my tone and roundabout phrasing as tacit consent. "So first you need to stand up, first impressions are what get people through the door so I need to see you as someone seeing you for the first time would."

He was already starting the valuation on me. He had decided to go ahead and tell me what I would be worth as a whore, how much money people would leave on my bedside table after having their wicked way with me. I should have objected, pushed back, put this to an end before it could begin. I shouldn't have done what I did, which was to obediently stand up, and let him begin his investigation.

"So these clothes, although classy, are fairly conservative. That seemed to do you well in promotion yesterday but I will be looking past that as any girl could wear them. Instead we should talk about your height and build, you have clearly lived a healthier life than my girls, you are taller and more full figured than a girl who comes from poverty. Your makeup is undoubtedly more expensive, although once again I will be looking past that as I would expect you to use cheaper stuff if you were working for me. This hair is fantastic though, it has been maintained with treatments and tinctures far beyond what anyone around here could afford. Those brown curly locks will have a lot of men going gaga for them, hell some will probably pay to make sure their seed is clinging to it by the end of the night."

I couldn't believe that I was feeling myself blush with pride over Tallboy stating parts of me that men would want to spoil, but I never interrupted him.

"Your skin is pretty clear, no obvious sores or signs of the kind of infections modest women get. Open your mouth."

He gave me an order. This pimp gave a viscountess an order. No ceremony or honourifics, not even a 'please'. He simply told me to open my mouth so he could keep evaluating my body for sex. And I did it, at his bidding I opened my mouth wide and he stared into it.

"Mighty fine dental work, no missing teeth and what remain are well looked after, I dare say you'd probably have the most alluring smile of the lot."

I giggled, he heard me do it and everything. He talked about me luring men to use my body for their debauched desires and my response was not one of revulsion but of a giddy schoolgirl being handed a sweet bun. Next, without asking, he took my hands and turned them over in his.

"Soft, no callouses, these are clearly the hands of a lady who has never had to do manual labour. If you held a man's hand he would certainly note the softness and wonder how it would feel wrapped around his member. Although now I hold your hand I do feel one callous, why do you have this on your middle finger?" He asked.

Throughout this whole process he had not sought my input on anything, now he was suddenly calling on me to account for myself. I'd never felt so infantilised while paradoxically feeling so sexualised. I was being asked why I had an imperfection that was getting in the way of me being the perfect sex object.

"It's a writer's blister, you get it from a quill rubbing against your fingers for extensive periods of writing." I immediately explained.

"I don't think many men around here would be familiar with that." He mumbled as he got down on his knees and bent over at my feet. "Take off your shoes."

Once again no semblance of the word please, just an order for me to obey, and I did. Still reeling from how my academic prowess led to a physical mark that probably brought my value down, I found myself eager to do whatever it took to raise it again, so his words had barely left his mouth as I was removing my shoes.

"Nice feet, no blisters or signs of ill fitting footwear, perfectly smooth ankle. A lot of men are into feet, never understood it myself, but there is a lot of value to be had in a good set of feet like yours." I blushed at his compliment and felt another wellspring of strange pride at my valuation going so well. "So that's all the external stuff, the things that will get the men into bed with you."

"Fantastic, and how much do you think you could charge for me?" I asked, now seriously invested in the answer.

"I'm afraid that's only half of it, if I want my pricing trusted, and repeat business, it's time to investigate more intimate details. So you're going to need to remove all of your clothes." He ordered, in the closest thing to a conciliatory tone since I stepped foot in his office. I stood stunned still, I was so invested in finding out my worth, I wanted nothing more than to get to the end of this valuation and truly discover my intrinsic value. But now I was being told that meant stripping for Tallboy.

Sure he's seen me naked before, but that time I was drunk and impaired, just going with the erotic flow of the evening. This would be different, this would be a sober and blatant act of submission, a viscountess surrendering her superior status to a pimp whose only goal was to sell her body as his possession. He could clearly read my stunned resistance.

"This is a valuation to see how much you are worth, there's a pretty abrupt ending on the horizon if you don't take off your clothes. Selling a woman who won't take off her clothes is like selling a cart without wheels. You would be worthless." He bluntly stated.

The word 'worthless' struck me to my core. There were so many tangled emotions with what I was going through, but that one word cut through it all, it was the one thing I simply couldn't accept of myself, I am not a worthless woman.

I reached behind my back and loosened the corsetry on my dress, the first step towards surrendering it along with all my other garments. The pressure of my dress being held to my body loosened and with some minor alterations and deliberate arm placements, I eventually felt it slide down my body onto the floor. Next I pulled my petticoat up and over my body. Tallboy was sat there in patient curiosity as I stood before him wearing only my bloomers, studying me as I would study a wall of library books trying to pick out which one would suffice for my study. His expression barely changed as I bent over to pull down my bloomers and then straightened up in exposed fear. My naked body felt like a butterfly pinned to a firm piece of wood under the diligent magnifying glass of a skilled entomologist.

"Very good." Tallboy stated in a matter of fact way as he stood up and began examining my nudity. "You are clearly healthy. Plumper than my average girl, a wealthy diet will do that, but you are not overweight, many men aren't in the market to sleep with a girl larger than them. Those breasts are magnificent."

A compliment from the man who now held me in the palm of his hand, and I was so excited to hear it. I should have been feeling all manner of shame and sadness to be in such a debased form, but if being naked was what it took to have my breasts complimented by a man who had no reason to do so, it was a price worth paying for the compliment.

"A lot of men would pay good money to watch these huge monsters bounce up and down as they fuck you. Your nipples are darker than average, but are perfectly in proportion and just look so good to nibble on. And as you are still young, they haven't drooped yet, they're still large and perky. Truly amazing tits." Tallboy elaborated.

"Thank you." I replied before I could catch the words coming out of my mouth. This pimp had just subjected me, an aristocrat, to the most base of objectifications and instead of taking offence I was thanking him. As I tried to process just what was wrong with me, I felt two hands clamp themselves against my breasts, kneading them with efficient intensity.

"Firm too." Tallboy explained. "For the man who likes a handful of breasts you are indeed a perfect specimen." His hands lingered on my breasts longer than was needed for the observation, yet still I found myself unmoving.

"Now let's talk about your pussy." He announced, disengaging from my breasts. "It's in peak health, but it is also completely unshaven. I provide my girls with some well sharpened straight razors to keep their bush firmly out of the way. I will try to look past it for now but if it remains unshaved it will affect your value."

"Well then I must shave it at once." I replied. I couldn't believe myself, of all the indignities I had suffered so far, all the orders and insults, and the time I put my foot down is the time I am told to wait to alter myself to make my body better for selling for sex.

"Very well, bathroom is down the hall on the left." Tallboy agreed, sitting back down in his chair. I gathered up my clothes and began to rearrange them. "Haven't got all day, just leave the clothes here, it's not exactly a private bathroom anyway."

Once again he was essentially ordering me, this time to walk the halls of his building naked. I was a woman of high standing, I shouldn't be in this situation, but still I gave a strange psudo-nod of agreement before dropping my clothes and walking over to the door.

My hands were gripped at my sides, tight enough that they could have crushed coal into diamonds as I began to walk down the hallway. At first the hallway was empty, but it only took a couple of beats of my racing heart before a working girl left her room and walked past me in the hallway. For me it was a crushing humiliation, the whore was clothed, going about her day with agency and purpose, and I had to get out of her way as I was the fallen woman ordered to walk the halls of her house, naked and subjugated. She gave me a look that screamed of judgement but didn't say anything as she passed by.

The bathroom had several buckets of fresh water, and in the corner there were some straight razors nestled between some bottles of some kind of lotion. I squatted down in the corner and began to try and work out what I was meant to be doing.

"Well, well, well. I thought that was you." Drawled a smug voice from the door. I turned to see the fiery redhead from my night on promotion. "Fallen on hard times, have we?"

"No, it's not like that at all, Tiffany." I sputtered.

"I'm Bernadette." She corrected with a disapproving sneer.

"Sorry, I'm just going through a valuation, for my study, and Mr. Tallboy said I needed to be shaved." I explained.

"You're putting yourself through all this just to see what our lives are like?" Bernadette asked with some genuine intrigue.

"I have been asked to report on what a woman getting into this profession goes through, and Mr. Tallboy offered to show me, so I took him up on the offer." I replied. Bernadette's eyes softened and she let her face fall into a grin.

"Well, if you don't know what you're doing with that you could end up cutting off your clit. Here, let me do it." She asserted as she walked into the room and immediately reached for a bottle of lotion to spread over my pubis. "I don't know what to make of you, you're either a good egg or a total freak."

I didn't know myself.

Bernadette lathered me up and then began expertly running the razor over my pussy, sparingly using water just to wash off the blade after each series of expert strokes. I was fixed in place with a mixture of admiration and fear of cuts.

"Just so you know, Tallboy may treat us better than the average pimp, but he still isn't a nice man." Bernadette announced out of nowhere. "Nobody who maintains power over others is."

"Is that why you don't like aristocrats?" I asked, trying to find anything to distract myself from Bernadette's focus on my vagina.

"A bit. People like Tallboy have to do bad things to survive and prosper in this world. But there is a class that gets all the power right off the bat, no need to morally compromise, could fix a lot for the downtrodden, and still they choose to be corrupt and selfish. I mean what's even the point? If I was born into enough power to change things, I would want to change them for the better. If you're above board then at least there's one aristocrat trying." Bernadette took the remainder of the bucket of water and poured it over my freshly shaved vagina, leaving it clean and smooth.

"Thank you." I replied. "For the shave, and the talk."

"Any time sister." Bernadette joked as she left. I spent a lot of time staring at my now bare privates, the curves of my labia now unobscured, my body modified to make sex easier for strangers. It took a while to shake myself out of my stupor and begin returning to Tallboy's office.

As I walked down the hallway I felt even more exposed than before. Before I was merely stripped, any circumstances could have separated me from my clothes, but my recently shaved pussy marked me as a woman preparing herself to be a sex object. It did not help that word had travelled far and there were a bunch of prostitutes I was familiar with, watching me return to Tallboy with my body prepared. One of the girls from the promotion (most likely Tiffany) gave a wolf whistle, Ivy was also there to very loudly refer to me as a viscountess. But the most embarrassing viewer was a complete stranger, a man popping out of a room alongside one of the other girls from promotion, clearly my walk of shame had interrupted their ongoing transaction.

"Very sexy, how much for a ride on you next." He exclaimed, his erect penis in his hand.

"I'm about to find out." I whimpered as I passed him. He reached out and grabbed my bottom and I did nothing to stop him. I had never felt so low.

I gave Tallboy a weak grin as I re-entered his office. I had just gone through all of that for him, for his approval, it sickened me how much I wanted him to value me. He simply grunted in acknowledgement before carrying on the valuation.

"Good pussy, no signs of infection, plump labia." He analysed. Then without warning he ran his finger down my pubis and stroked between my recently shaved lips. I moaned with humiliated delight as he examined his finger like a chemist with a test tube. "Very wet, a cock would slide in there pretty smoothly."

I was left grinning like a fool that my vagina looked so accommodating for cocks. As I did so Tallboy returned to his desk and fetched a wooden phallus, which he then handed to me.

"How far can you get this down your throat without choking?" He asked, an order dressed up as a question. I gave the wooden phallus an incredulous look, then plunged it down my throat. It did not make it far before it came back up in a volley of gagging and coughing.

"As I suspected, not very experienced. A man is going to want to stick his cock down your throat for a bit before he fucks you with it. If you're barely making it to the tonsils it's going to limit your client base." He explained.

I felt the deepest shame so far. I should have been ashamed of my stripping, my dignity being readily discarded, even my naked body being openly judged and sexualised; but no, I was ashamed at my shortcomings as a sex object.

"You ever taken a cock in your ass?" He asked without pretension. While waiting for me to get over the bluntness of the question, he walked around my body and pulled apart my cheeks so he could get an unfettered view of my rosebud.

"No, I haven't."

"You should start training, you've got a pretty little starfish here and men would love to jam a dick up it. Plus the ass is a safer bet for when a man wants to finish inside of you." He explained. I found myself genuinely resolving to try placing things in there when I had spare time.

"Alright, that should do it." Tallboy announced taking a seat behind his desk. "You're a great body but with nowhere near the experience to be considered elite, you have a bright future if you commit yourself to your new profession, you certainly have one of the highest valuations I've ever given a new girl. If a man asks how much to fuck you, you can now reply in confidence: 19 shillings."

My body glowed with feelings I couldn't put into words. What he was saying was very complimentary, and I'm sure the price he had given me was a flattering one, but I couldn't help but think what small change it was for people in my circles. I was priced a shilling under a pound (probably on purpose), when we have our chimneys swept by children, we pay them a pound a chimney. When a vagrant chased off a would be robber I gave him a pound as thanks, if I had let him fuck me to say thank you, I would have been short changing him.

"So, anything else you want to know?" Tallboy asked with trademark detachment. It knocked me out of my stupor and I mumbled something about getting lunch before bundling on my clothes and leaving.

...

The figure of 19 shillings swirled in my brain for the next couple of days as I joined my husband for a country retreat where he and a Baron could hatch political schemes in the comfort of a stately home. The new unit of value in my mind became ravishing my body. A new dress to wear with matching parasol and jewelry no longer cost 20 pounds, it cost 21 sessions fucking me with a shilling to spare. Instead of paying the jeweller a pound to polish my sterling silver necklace, I should have just taken off my clothes and let him thrust his cock into me right there by the cash register. When my husband tipped the stable lad a pound to take good care of our horse and cart, I imagined him saying.

"My good sir, please take extra good care of our horses. Here, as a token of good faith, feel free to tear off my wife's clothes and fuck her in her mouth, cunt or ass. Afterwards, just round it up, you can also have a shilling."

These weekends away were always unbearable for me. Friends of my husband never know whether to treat me as a wife or academic, so they often resort to allowing me to mutely sit in the corner during discussions about me with occasional nods to my existence independent of my husband's status.

"I'm sorry my wife couldn't be here to greet you in person." The ermine walrus blubbered at my husband over sherry. "But the morning sickness has started to become quite weighty."

"Well that's because you've put a stout lad into her, I'm surprised she isn't already eating pipe tobacco and matches just to get the lad used to the good stuff." My husband gushed in response.