Fuck the United Nations

Elizabeth stepped forward.

"Hello, Maddie. To be honest, we wish you weren't here today. After all, because of you our workplace was shut down for over three months. Every lady in this room was hurt by that."

The hostesses applauded in agreement, with boos aimed in my direction.

"And many of our guests were inconvenienced. Miss Mollie tells me that she had over 150 cancellations, and had to refund their money. Another 40 people rescheduled. May I ask the guests present here today if any of you would have come earlier if you could have?"

A smattering of hands went up.

But now that you are here, we are going to ask you to entertain us. For us this is just another day in a brothel. You're not going to be asked to do anything that we don't do every day. We hope that you will understand that our hostesses work very hard and don't deserve to be deprived of their livelihoods."

Another round of applause came from the hostesses. I quaked in my flip-flops.

"So please lie down on the floor, with your head toward the girls and your feet toward the boys." She put a pillow on the floor where my head was to be.

Befitting a library, this room was carpeted. I lay down like a lady in a coffin, making sure my dress covered my body. Elizabeth took my sandals and put them aside.

"Comfy?" she asked, after the crowd had settled down. I nodded, even though I wasn't.

"Good. Now show pink."

I didn't know what that meant. I looked at her inquiringly.

"Speak up, Maddie. You need to tell me what you mean."

"I don't know what show pink means," I said quietly.

"Louder. They can't hear you."

I repeated myself loud enough to be heard.

"Anybody want to tell her what show pink means?"

A guest volunteered. "Showing pink means displaying your cunt. Up close and personal like."

"Repeat what he just said, Maddie. So that we know you understand."

"Showing pink means displaying my cunt, up close and personal," I said loudly, blushing deep red.

"So lift your knees and spread your legs as far apart as possible, as if you were having a baby."

I did that. My dress still covered my body.

"Now pull your dress up over your knees."

I lifted the dress to my knees. The guests crowded together to get an up-skirt view. I saw a few hard ons under the shorts.

"Now pleasure yourself," Elizabeth demanded.

I looked at her in shock. The mood wasn't one for pleasure, at least not for me. There was no way I'd orgasm in front of that crowd. Still, I put my hand to my crotch and tried to fake it.

"Put your fingers inside."

I did that. My skirt now gathered at my waist, leaving me completely exposed. No, I wasn't having an orgasm, but I felt myself get wet -- probably a good thing given what I knew was coming. Eventually they'd get tired of watching me masturbate.

It took longer than I expected, but tire of it they did. "Miss Maddie, our guests come from around the world. We have selected three honored visitors to represent the human race. They will each fuck you in a different way. Our first volunteer is from Norway, Mr. Olaf."

An older man stepped forward. Of average height, he had rugged, fisherman's features, a wiry build and gray hair.

"Dette blir moro," he said, whatever that means. "Jeg elsker deg." ['This will be fun. I love you.' -- ed]

He kneeled down between my thighs. The elastic material allowed him to pull the dress off my breasts, exposing them. He massaged them for a few seconds. Then he unfastened his waistband, letting his already hard cock pop out. Elizabeth handed him a condom.

He didn't have Joe's skills, but it was hardly the worst fuck I'd had all day. He was gentle with me, entering lightly and pumping slowly. I was good and lubed by the time he really started getting down. That anybody could cum in public like that surprised me -- I found it humiliating. I did my best to hide my mood.

He lay on top of me, relaxing, while the audience applauded his exertions. As he stood up I unconsciously put my clothes back together, covering myself up.

"Please stand up," bade Elizabeth, when all had quieted down. I happily obeyed.

"Now please take off your dress."

Of course I knew that was coming, or something much like it. I did so, thinking I'd be embarrassed. But strangely, I wasn't. Being the only naked girl in the room, standing there the center of attention, somehow made me feel empowered. Though that was to prove an illusion.

"Is Mr. Arnaud here?"

A big, black man stepped forward. He looked like a football player. "Where are you from?" asked Elizabeth, now speaking French.

"I am from Abidjan, the capital of the beautiful country of Côte d'Ivoire," he replied in that wonderful, West African accent. Then, to me he said "Vous êtes un très joli petit chienne. Je vais faire en levrette." [You're a very pretty little bitch. I'm gonna do it doggy style. -- ed] With that he picked me up one handed and carried me over to the table.

First he had me bend over the table keeping my legs straight, my face down, and my ass in the air. Then he picked up my left leg and placed it so that my knee rested on the table. And same with the right. So with my face still down and my ass way up, the weight of my butt rested on my knees. These were spread apart so that my privates were accessible. All my weight was on the table, but my feet and cunt hung out over the edge. It wasn't very comfortable.

Embarrassingly, he first lubed me with his fingers, applying some jelly. I'm glad he did. For though I never got to see Mr. Arnaud's cock, it must've been big. Without the oil it would've hurt. But he was also gentle, not trying to get it all in on the first go. With every thrust he dug just a little bit further. Even when I thought he couldn't possibly be bigger, there was still another half an inch that had to get in there. It took him ten minutes to max out.

He grabbed my thighs so I wouldn't be pushed away. He made sure he got it all the way up to the hilt on every push. And then it got rougher. He banged me harder and harder, pushing that big cock all the way in. Then not just harder, but also faster. Had he not held on to me I would've been thrown off the table.

It felt...good. I forgot about the audience, the discomfort, the friction on my knees. All I knew was this big African was deep inside of me giving me all he got.

He came just before I did. As the pumping relaxed he took time to massage my tits. That put me over the top. A big wave of orgasmic ecstasy enveloped me.

How embarrassing.

He picked me up and carried me over to a chair, where we both collapsed in post-coital relaxation. He held me against him, half on his lap, half standing between his thighs. Applause greeted us as we both disengaged.

I couldn't stand up yet. I collapsed in a nearby chair. Elizabeth let me rest for a minute.

"Can you stand up now?" asked Elizabeth, solicitously. Reluctantly I rose to my feet.

"Is Mr. Jiaolong here?" A small, Chinese man of indeterminate age, barely taller than I was, stepped forward. "Mr. Jiaolong is from Tientsin, China."

"Nǐ shìgè hěn xìnggǎn de nǚhái," he said. "Wǒ xiǎng zài nǐ de zuǐ jì" [You're a very sexy girl. I want to cum in your mouth. -- ed.]

Mr. Jiaolong sat down, spread his legs, released his already erect tool, and pointed at it, smiling.

"Whatever you do, don't bite him. That will extend your sentence by two days," warned Elizabeth.

That made me very nervous. I'd never given anybody a blowjob before. Wasn't sure I wanted to do that, and certainly not in public. Cautiously I got down on my knees between his legs and stared at his cock. It responded just by my breathing on it.

It was pretty obvious I had no idea what I was doing. "Let me show you how to do it," said Elizabeth. Somehow she squeezed in there beside me. "First you lick it, like this." She demonstrated, making the prick jump with excitement. I followed her lead and it got even more excited.

"Then you take the tip in your mouth, making sure you suck your lips in. Your lips have to cover your teeth." Mr. Jiaolong got glassy-eyed as she showed how this was done. Then I got my turn, concentrating on keeping my teeth out of the way.

"Then you take it all in your mouth, sucking it up and down." Mr. Jiaolong put his hand on her head to keep her in place. But she pulled back to let me have at it. "His dick is relatively small, which is why he got chosen today."

I started sucking him off. I doubt I was a pro, but it certainly got the job done. Soon I felt that hand on my head, pushing me all the way down his shaft. Soon he wanted to control the rhythm, pounding my face faster and harder. I wanted to gag with the first taste of pre-cum.

But pre-cum isn't all I got. It took him a few minutes, but then globs of sticky white stuff hit the back of my gullet. I tried to pull away but the hand pushed harder, his tool still pumping away. I did manage to escape at the end, and cum got into my eyes and hair. It dripped out the side of my mouth.

I looked like a whore.

There wasn't any place to spit it out. Elizabeth wasn't going to let me leave the room. So I had no choice but to swallow it.

Miss Ruthie came forward with some wet-wipes and helped clean me up.

"Thank you Miss Maddie," announced Elizabeth. "This concludes your formal punishment. You still need to finish your sentence, but you have earned our respect and forgiveness." Gracious applause from all was directed at me.

I started for my clothes, but Mr. Rodney got to me first. He also wanted to fuck me in the library. I had to ride him while he sat on a loveseat.

Exit

It was 5:47 am on Tuesday morning.

I lay naked on a bed next to the snoring Mr. Lorenzo. Next to him reposed the whore-cum-chaperone, Miss Rose, also sound asleep.

I was utterly exhausted, having danced the most of the night away, until 2:30 in the morning. Miss Rose was one hell of a dancer. They said she was the best in the brothel -- I have no doubt that's true. Mr. Lorenzo wasn't too shabby, either. For the first few hours of our party -- which started around eight -- he was much more interested in dancing than in sex.

Me, I enjoy dancing, but not like those two. Mr. Lorenzo spent a couple of hours trying to teach me the Lindy Hop, which involves throwing a lady around, like over the guy's shoulder. It takes considerable skill from both dancers. Maybe Mr. Lorenzo had it, but I certainly didn't.

Rose, on the other hand, could fly over his head and land on her feet with just unbelievable grace and charm. She loved doing it, and seemed to resent having to spend time giving me lessons. Mr. Lorenzo, meanwhile, was keen on my instruction, as it required much bodily contact between us. Like when he had to lift me by the crotch, or grab my tits to keep me from falling.

Dancers are better with clothes. Skirts become colorful streamers and blouses accentuate the sex appeal. Mr. Lorenzo understood that, and dressed us up like cheerleaders -- short miniskirts, bare midriffs, and blouses fixed with only a single button. It'd have done the Dallas Cowgirls proud, except unlike them we wore no underwear. Rose showed full pussy on her flying trips. Even I have to admit it was just as sexy as hell.

Come midnight we'd all run out of steam, and I was banged up from all the bad landings. So Lorenzo sat down with a bottle of scotch, tasking Rose and me to practice strip dancing. Rose might have found that a bit dull (I think she did it every night), but for me it was fun. We spent a lot of time over at the clothes racks selecting outfits for the next dance. Sometimes a dress, other times a skirt, occasionally a pair of pants. Then we'd have to choreograph it -- a fake fight, a lezzie encounter, or pretending to be waitresses gone wild. Maxine the DJ would play music to taste.

Lorenzo got wasted, and then all he wanted was us sitting naked by his side. We didn't even get a taste of scotch, the bottle already empty.

Naked, we took him to his room. He started to fuck Rose -- believe it or not I felt a pang of jealousy that he hadn't chosen me. But he fell asleep before anything happened. I was pretty sure he'd get to me after he woke up, assuming he did so pretty soon.

It was 5:54 am on Tuesday morning.

I thought about all the guys I'd fucked. There was Joe and Klaus. And then Pierre, followed by Olaf, Arnaud, and Jiaolong. After that, Rodney and David and Surinder. I'd love to forget Walid, but I can't. There was Mario and Natoshi and Ivan.

I think that's all. There were others, of course, but they didn't fuck me. Some, like Lorenzo were too drunk. Several were too old. A few just couldn't get it up. Mr. Pedro only wanted to talk, but my Spanish wasn't up to it. So all I did was listen -- no clue what he said.

Still, I fucked way more men in the last three days than I ever had before. A lot more. With most of them it was completely forgettable. I think I had two orgasms -- with Joe and Arnaud. I didn't come close to falling in love. Well, maybe with Joe it got a little bit warm.

So you perverts oughta be happy now. I definitely got fucked and raped. Did you get your rocks off? If not, it sure as hell ain't my fault. I worked hard for you fucking bastards.You must be gay or something. Or maybe you need a blue pill.

It was 5:59 am on Tuesday morning.

I quietly rose from the bed, careful not to wake anybody. No need to get dressed since I hadn't worn any clothes coming in. Putting on my flip-flops, at six a.m. sharp I padded softly out the door.

I stopped on the seventh floor and dressed in some clothes off the rack. And then I crossed the red line into the employee's elevator, bound for the ground floor.

My sentence was over.

Ronaldo, Elizabeth and a prison matron were waiting for me.

"Congratulations," said Elizabeth, as we walked toward Ronaldo's office. "You have finished your sentence with good behavior. You are a free woman." She smiled broadly.

"I have heard nothing but good things about you," said Ronaldo. "The hostesses speak very highly of you." He handed me my clothes, the outfit that Joe had stolen from me.

I had to strip down one more time to put them on. There's no such thing as privacy at Lagarde's hotel, not even on the ground floor. The prison matron returned to me my personal belongings: my purse, suitcase (nicely packed), and above all, my passport.

"You are welcome back any time," called Elizabeth after me, as I was escorted out the big steel door onto the street.

The matron put me in a car and drove me to the airport, where I was deported on the next flight to London.

Epilogue

I told my mother all about it. She cried and cried and cried, which is why I told her. She expected me to cry, too. And not only that -- perhaps I suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder? Or maybe I'd been screwed for life?

In fact, I actually didn't mind working at Mollie's brothel. I'm not saying it was fun, but it wasn't all that bad. Certainly not the traumatic experience that the words "fucked and raped" connote.

Still, I faked it long enough to sue the United Nations for pain and suffering. They were eager to settle -- I got fifty grand out of them without even hiring a lawyer. That plus the twelve grand from my paycheck that I still had in the bank, meant that I could live at home with mama for a few months, no problem.

I tried to figure out what I wanted to do with my life. After a couple of months putting up with my insufferable mother, I decided I could be a prostitute. I knew how to do that.

So I took the train down to New York and signed up for an escort agency. Not the cheap kind that advertises on Backpage, but one of those elite outfits that only advertises by word of mouth. My mom cried some more, and my dad disowned me.

"I don't want to see you again," he said, firmly. That lasted for about three weeks until he learned how much money I was making. Then he wanted to be my best friend.

Over a couple of months I established a clientele from Chinatown -- those guys are loaded. They'd invite me to parties as their fuck toy. I'd fuck all cummers, rather like working at Lagarde's. The only difference was they paid me $2K per hour, plus I got tips. I could make $15,000 in a single evening!

So I was a hooker for about four years, and then it started getting old. Or maybe I started getting old. Whatever, it was time to do something else. I'd paid my taxes like a good girl, and I lived very frugally. The result is now I've got half a million dollars in the bank.

I've been staying at mom's house for the past few months, living off the interest and revenue from odd jobs, such as writing this article. It's a dull life. But now I gotta run. I have an important phone call scheduled in a few minutes.

I'm gonna ask Mollie if she wants to sell her brothel.