Clara's Sacrifice Ch. 01

Clara held the parchment close to her chest as she looked up at the sign as it swung lazily. A light breeze swept through the narrow streets of the town, lifting and carrying loose pieces of discarded materials. The smell of salty air filled the young woman's nostrils, a smell she was very unfamiliar with. She turned her gaze to the wide streets, her luxuriant brown hair shimmered beneath the gas lamps above.

The street itself was almost completely vacant of people, with the exception of workers tiredly making their way home and a few drunken men who had already had their fill for the night. The interior of the Tempered Mare, however, was as lively as ever. It was a modestly sized brothel that sat just on the edge of the cities docks. Sailors would arrive from all parts of Hichin, eager to find temporary relief from the endlessly rocking boats and crashing waves.

Vices were in abundance across the docks, cashing in on the always revolving clientele. Gambling dens were dotted around, though gambling itself was illegal in the city, proprietors of such establishments made sure to grease the palms of certain officials. Bars and taverns were frequent, some even on the very same street. The opening of rival taverns had become so prevalent that a number of the veteran owners had come to an agreement to deliberately sabotage any newly built drinking hubs, arson had seen a very sudden rise and bands of orc mercenaries were usually seen around the same time.

The Tempered Mare was one of the only brothels that was situated on the docks. It's Madame had long discovered the key to achieving prolonged success -- a roster of the most desirable women in the city. Any tavern could stock up with the strongest liquors and the most powerful gins, but none possessed anything to distinguish them enough from the competition.

From what Clara had derived from the tidbits of information she could find, Madame Kadjia was a formidable woman in her own right. The best part of her early twenties were spent plying her trade as one of the many ladies of the Hichin night, walking the cold streets in search of paying clients. Eventually, she managed to put away enough coin to purchase one of the many abandoned buildings on the docks, renovating it into her place of business. It was a serendipitous that the dock lands would experience a boom in trade, in thanks to the ending of centuries old trade embargoes with the neighbouring cities.

Madame Kadjia knew that hiring the most attractive women available outside of the city central would set her far above her competition. She had spent years poaching working girls with the promise of better pay and improved standards compared to what their previous employers had offered them. Any fresh face desperate enough to sell her body knew to pay a visit to Kadja if she didn't want to end up in the hands of a pimp or worse -- slavers. Years of cultivating an enviable roster had either put the competing brothels out of business or scared would-be brothel owners away from the docks altogether.

Clara steeled herself as she twisted the brass knob on the freshly painted wooden door. The second she entered her senses were overwhelmed by the exuberant feeling inside. Tobacco smoke and liquor created a pungent smell, offset by an exquisite perfume that hung in the air that Clara couldn't quite place. Patrons were gathered in secluded booths covering the sides of the main floor, some were personally attended by, what Clara assumed, were the famed Mares. A wide stage sat at the far end, framed by a set of velvet curtains on either side, a trio of steps led up to the polished wooden surface of the stage.

Before being able to completely take in the spectacle around her, Clara felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. She turned and was greeted by a tall, buxom redheaded woman dressed in a blood red gown that was a near spot on match for her eye catching hair. The woman looked down at Clara with a kind expression.

"Welcome to The Tempered Mare, might I ask the reason for your presence?" the redhead asked in a husky, yet friendly manner.

"Me? Oh, I was just looking for Madame..." Clara replied, desperately trying to recollect the name of the woman she seeked.

"Madame Kadjia?" the redhead asked.

Clara smiled gratefully. "Yes. I was trying to find her, hoping she would still be searching for any new girls."

"Ah," the redhead nodded, "hoping to become a Mare? Well, you've certainly got the physique the Madame looks out for in potential working girls. Come, I'll take you to her office."

"Thank you," Carla replied in a near whisper, following the woman through the main client area.

"Quite alright. My name is Scarlett," the redhead grinned, flashing her pearly white teeth, a rare sight on a dock full of poor diets and severe tobacco use.

"Clara," she said, following Scarlett through to the back area. "You have a beautiful name."

Scarlett laughed melodically. "It isn't my real name. Every girl who comes through here chooses their own name, a persona to keep the customers at a safe distance. Believe me, the last thing we want is for a brigand to become attached enough to try and track one of us down."

They skipped up a narrow flight of stairs which were covered by a deep purple carpet, muffling their steps. Just off of the landing was an ornate iron-bound door, painted to match the carpet. A small carving near the top labelled it simply as 'The Madame's Boudoir.'

Scarlett gave it a quiet, but rhythmic knock.

"Enter," an authoritative voice commanded from within.

As she opened the door, Scarlett could see the look of nervousness on Clara's pale face. She offered the younger girl a comforting smile, reminded of her first time standing before the imposing door.

Clara stepped inside and was met with a myriad of exotic sights. Expensive, handcrafted furniture was almost expertly placed around the room, a patterned rug that she could only assume had been imported from Bisher, paintings of the various women that had served time at the brothel.

But none of that compared to Madame Kadjia herself. She was a woman of striking beauty, bark brunette hair that swept access her shoulders, piercing hazel eyes that appeared to scrutinise everything they could see. As the Madame looked up, Clara could see an expression usually worn by a governess, a look of scolding bringing back the memory of being caught watching the farm hand her family hired during the summer by her mother.

"Might I ask who you are?" Madame Kadjia inquired, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

Clara straightened up, an impulse from being subjected to the Madame's piercing gaze. "I've heard about this establishment all the way from my home in the farmlands. My family needs the income if they are to keep possession of the land and women in the city don't have many options for employment. I wish to know if you would accept me as one of your working girls."

Madame Kadjia, reclined in her plush leather chair. "Scarlett, would you be kind of us to give us some privacy?"

Scarlett nodded, brushing her hand against Clara's arm in a reassuring manner as she departed.

"Are you fully aware of the requirements this work demands?" Madame Kadjia asked.

Clara let out a small, shaky breath. She had over heard many stories from men in the village local to her farm, boasting about the various sexual acts they had paid for when visiting the city. Though, she had only heard fragments, some of the things they recalled to each other made her blush heavily, forcing her to quickly leave.

"I think I have a fairly good idea, Madame Kadjia," Clara replied quietly.

"I might disagree," Madman Kadjia stood, smoothing down her silk maroon gown. She made her way over to Clara, who stood almost a head shorter than the older woman. "Whatever the paying client demands you must fulfil. Wherever he wishes to take you, you must oblige without question. Nothing is off limits when the coin is high enough - apart from anything that can cause bodily harm. Have you even been bedded by a man before?"

Clara looked down at her well worn shoes, flustered by the Madame's questioning.

"Yes. A farm boy from one village over. He was incredibly sweet, we...made love act in a barn, where my family wouldn't stumble upon us."

Madame Kadjia replied with a brief frown. "Not as adventurous as the girls that have applied here in the past, but at least you've shed yourself of your cherry. Would you be kind enough to drop your cloak?"

Clara could feel herself shrink, but she knew that the appraisal would have to be thorough before the Madame would even consider taking her on. Too nervous to reply verbally, she reached up and untied the thread on her cloak, allowing the cotton garment to drop to the rug below. A frayed, white travelling gown covered most of her body, but was just well fitted to reveal her lithe form beneath. Her breasts were prominent, her waist curved into a perfect hourglass, tapering into her wide hips.

"Hmm, perhaps there is a chance of me recruiting you," Madame Kadjia said approvingly, "you were certainly wasted on farm work."

"Oh," Clara blinked, still not quite looking up from the floor, "thank you. Was there anything else you needed to know? Please, I truly need this work."

The Madame took time to circle around Clara, sizing her up with the expert eye of a woman who had spent the better part of two decades in the sex trade. "Certainly. How would you react if I was to tell you that one of the expectations of working at The Tempered Mare was to make yourself available to orcs, as well as the other non-human creatures that occasionally occupy this place?"

"Orcs?" Clara exclaimed, feeling the blood rush from her face as she finally looked up into Madame Kadjia's curious eyes. "But, I've never seen an orc in person. All I know of them are stories my father and his friends have told."

"Oh I imagine such stories focussed on their brutal nature, their rampant need to conquer, and their unbridled lust for the touch of a woman?" The Madame asked rhetorically. "The truth is that many of those tales are true -- to an extent. However, that doesn't apply to this city. It's too well defended to ever succumb to any attack and too vital as a trading route, even for the orcs."

"But then-"

"But the orcs have their own goods to bring and sell," Madame Kadjia interrupted, "their journeys also mean they're separated from their women folk for extended periods. Once they set down their anchors they fully intend to stretch their legs in the manner fitting of their people. They have an insatiable sexual appetite, particularly for human women, and pay far more handsomely than their human counterparts for the privilege of buying one of my girl's services for a short period of time. This is one of the only brothels in Hichin that will cater to their kind and I expect any prospective girls to ensure their needs are catered to."

Clara imagined herself in one of the many bedrooms in the brothel, lying on the bed as the massive frame of a nameless orc appeared in the door way, a harsh shadow cast over his tusks and snout. It sent a sharp feeling of fear through her, but also a shiver that ran across her womanhood.

"I think I can do that," Clara swallowed.

Madame Kadjia replied with a warm smile, the first time Clara didn't feel like a specimen in the woman's presence. "You shouldn't fear, the other girls will guide you through the necessities. The orcs haven't docked here in some time, fighting another one of their foreign wars I should imagine. You'll mainly be servicing ordinary sailors and drunks whose lust guides them here."

Clara let out a relieved sigh, bending down to retrieve her fallen robe. "Have I met your requirements, Madame?"

The older woman gave a sharp nod, returning to her desk to receive a piece of parchment acknowledging the new employee enrolment. She offered Clara a quill and indicated where she should apply her signature, which Clara did dutifully.

"Now, the rules here are simple, but I expect them to be adhered to with conviction" Madame Kadjia said, reciting what she had told to dozens of women like Clara over the past two decades. "You are provided with room, board, and meals at the brothel, paid for by a small percentage of your earnings. I expect your personal bedroom to be kept in impeccable condition, just because most of the men that come through here are unkempt at best, unhygienic at worst, doesn't mean we let our standards fall."

"I understand," Clara replied respectfully, tying her cloak back up.

"Your room shall be prepared for your arrival, but it shan't be ready until the morning," Madame Kadjia stated, "do you have room and board for the night?"

Clara nodded. "A small hotel near the manufacturing district. It isn't particularly comfortable, but I can't complain as long as there's a roof over my head."

The Madame understood the girl's circumstances, but didn't press. "It's close to midnight, I'd recommend hurrying back to your lodgings as quickly as you can. This city in particular doesn't take much mercy on a lone girl wandering the darkened streets, nor do the individuals that rear their heads at this time. Make haste if you wish to not fall foul of their cruelty."

Clara took the warning to heart, offering her new employer a graceful curtsy, rushing from the office as quickly as her heeled boots would allow her, offering a final thanks as she descended the narrow stairs.

Just as her hand surrounded the handle of the brothel's entrance door Scarlett caught her arm, gazing at her expectantly. "Well? Will I be seeing you again?"

Clara smiled. "Tomorrow morning."

"Oh excellent," Scarlett beamed, her ruby lips parting into another dazzling smile, "I think you'll enjoy being here. Selling yourself for coin can seem incredibly daunting at first, but once you bed your first customer the rest will seem like a piece of pie. By the way, I've asked Burt -- one of our bouncers -- to escort you up to the city entrance at the very least. Believe me, no cut throat will dare lay a finger upon you when they realise he has an eye on you."

"That's incredibly kind of you," Clara responded meekly.

Scarlett took Clara's and and squeezed it lightly, giving her a meaningful look. "We all look out for each other here, it's the only way we can make it in this city. Now come, your escort awaits."

<><><><><>

Clara returned in the early morning, carrying a case containing the essential belongings she had brought from home. She smiled at Burt, who promptly opened the entrance door to allow her in, grunting out a greeting of his own.

Before the wooden door had time to shut she was pounced upon by Scarlett, who was dressed far more casually than she was when Clara had first met her.

"You're early," Scarlett smiled.

"Oh! I hope I'm nit getting in the way of anything?" Clara blurted.

"Don't be silly, Madame Kadjia appreciates a girl who's prompt. Come, I'll show you to the bedroom."

Scarlett led the way up to a wide set of stairs that broke off into two different directions. They walked reached the top and walked through a short hall, its walls were covered in paintings depicting various erotic acts, some of which Clara assumed were physically impossible.

As they reached the final door Scarlett produced a brass key. She unlocked it and welcomed Clara inside. "So, what do you think?"

Clara was almost flabbergasted. The bed was positively massive, covered with blood red silk sheets and a pile of plush matching pillows. Though the floor consisted or bare wood, it was polished enough to the point of it being reflective. Black and gold wallpaper covered the walls. What surprised her the most was the present of a personal bathroom that ajoined the bedroom.

"It's perfect," Clara breathed.

"I should hope so, the rooms were designed to be as comfortable for their inhabitants as they are sensual for the guests, " Scarlett explained. "You have your own dresser and closet to store your belongings, as well as keys for them and the door. Downstairs, just beyond the stage, is the changing room. Once you're sorted here I'll take you down and have you sized up for the outfits we have available."

"Thank you," Clara replied gratefully, placing her trunk on the bed and removing its contents.

"Oh!" Scarlett snapped her fingers. "I'd almost forgotten."

She walked over to the small cabinet bedside the bed and opened the drawer, removing a number of vials and jars of varying colours which she displayed to Clara.

"These will be your essentials when you're on the clock. Slick-oil, for those clients that are a little more blessed than others. Hayjin-seeds, they will prevent even the most persistent sperm from taking root in you for at least forty-eight hours, just swipe your finger inside and spread it inside yourself. The others are mainly for soreness; believe me, some men will make their time worth it for themselves."

Clara could feel herself stiffen, it had suddenly become real to her. By tonight she would be sold off to random strangers for a handful of gold pieces. It was a terrifying feeling, but she couldn't deny the sense of excitement that came with it. Her parents had relentlessly instilled the idea of chastity ij the minds of her sisters and herself, to save themselves for a future provider. Yet there she stood, a soon-to-be prostitute, packing away her meagre belongings.

Guilt reared its ugly head however. Clara remembered the pride on her parents faces when she lied about finding employment in the city, working in the manufacturing district to provide extra -- much needed -- income to the farm. The lie played on her mind but she pushed it down, knowing it was for a good cause.

"Scarlett?" Clara placed the last of her clothing into the spacious closest. "I'm finished."

The red haired woman led her down to the changing rooms, which was occupied by what Clara assumed were the other members of the line up. They had already gotten a head start on preparing themselves for the evening's entertainment, each giving Clara their own looks of curiosity.

"Margot?" Scarlett called to one of the women, a strawberry blonde who jad a figure that made even the petite Clara self conscious. "I have a friend here who needs measuring."

Margot went over, carrying a strip of tape. "You must be Clara? Scarlett has been telling me all about you, quite the impression. And I can see why."

"Erm, thank you," Clara whispered. She gave a yelp as Margot quickly went to work, wrapping the tape around her waist and bust, crouching down to gauge her shoe size.

"Perfect," Margot said in relief, "I was worried that you might have a shape we couldn't cater for. Luckily, I have a wide selection for you."

The blonde left to enter a small doorway that Clara assumed housed most of the outfits for the girls working during the evening. She was proven right as Margot returned, carrying a deep blue dress and a pair of glittering heels, high enough to make Clara feel queasy.

"Here, these will suit you best," Margot stated confidently.

"She's right," Scarlett said, "there's yet to be a girl working here who hasn't looked her most alluring in the clothes Margot picks for them."

Clara acquiesced and slipped into a rarely used changing room. She stripped out of her cumbersome white gown and cotton underwear and tugged on the tight dress, aghast as she realised it barely reached halfway down her pale thighs. It didn't leave much to the imagination as she looked in the cracked mirror, seeing a generous amount of cleavage exposed a deep plunge. She stood and slid her feet into the towering heels, hobbling cautiously as she exited the room.

"Scarlett, I'm not sure about this. I look like a -"

"Whore," Scarlett interrupted, already aware of the word ready to leave the girl's mouth. The same word she remembered using on her first day. "It's okay, Clara,it's part of the job. The men that occupy this place at night bring with them a generous amount of coin and it's our desire to ensure they part with as much as possible. You look fantastic, it really suits your figure."