Still On The Game Ch. 01: The Brothel

"You're not serious?" my husband exclaimed, spluttering as he went to drink his coffee.

It was Sunday morning and we were sitting at our kitchen table having only recently got out of bed. I still had the remains of yesterday night's make-up on my face and my hair was a tousled mess but other than that I was fully awake.

"I'm quite serious." I told him frankly.

"But a brothel?" he looked shocked by my suggestion.

"Why not? The weather's only going to get worse and I don't fancy freezing my arse off on a street corner." My response was blunt and direct.

He took another sip of coffee and considered what I had said, "Fair point I guess."

"And I'd be a lot more comfortable. Flat on my back on a bed rather than the back seat of a car." I added, swallowing a mouthful of my morning coffee.

We sat in silence for a while, both of us considering my idea of going to work at Kitten's topless massage parlour.

"Have you thought how you would fit it around your school job?" Liam finally spoke again.

I pondered his question for a moment. Working on the street was easy, I just turned up when I wanted, did as many punters as I wanted and came home when I wanted.

Life would not be that simple if I was working a shift in a brothel,

"Hmmm. That might be the challenging part. I could do the week-end shifts and the Friday night for sure but anything mid-week might be a little more difficult." I reflected.

Leaving any decision until later I finished my coffee and headed for the shower to remove all traces of last night's punters from me.

Relaxing under the hot water I took a moment to reflect on the week-end so far. Working the street on both the Friday and Saturday nights I had earned in excess of £500 and had had sex with maybe a dozen men. I had even fucked a punter, the obnoxious Greg, on the Saturday afternoon whilst we were out shopping.

I had no shame now. I knew that. I wanted the humiliation and the sex so working in a brothel seemed the natural progression for me.

There was also the question of my estranged father. Uncle Will had told me that they both used the massage parlour. Did I want to confront him there? What would happen if I did?

The more I thought of him as one of my customers the wetter I was becoming between my legs.

Unable to stop myself I leant back against the tiles and slid one hand between my thighs while I used the other to massage the hot water into my small breasts. Playing with the buds on my modest little tits I quickly had them standing out like bullets, the darker areola puckering as I groaned softly with pleasure.

The fingers between my legs traced along the length of my slit, gently probing between my outer lips, and teasing my already moist entrance. Dipping in and out of my pussy I used two slender digits to open myself up and push deeper.

"Aaaahhhh!" I bit my lip stifling my cry as the pleasure radiated out from my core.

Slumped back against the wall, water running down my body I began to work my hand into my cunt. The images of my father mounting me filling my mind as I masturbated myself.

I started jerking against the tiles my mouth clamped shut as I tried not to moan out loud. My eyes closed while I enjoyed the growing sexual delight, I was giving myself.

"Oh fuck... fuck...fuck me daddy!" I whispered, unable to stay silent as I responded to the waves of ecstasy rolling through me.

My fingers found my swollen clitoris and I started to work it furiously, feeling my orgasm building rapidly. My knees were almost buckling under me as the sensations grew to a climax.

After only another minute of this intense self-pleasuring, I stopped my thrusting and my entire body tensed. In the next moment I lurched almost uncontrollably and although I tried stifle any sound, it totally escaped my lips.

"Aaaaahhhh.... Fuck, oh fuck...daddeeeeeeeee!" I groaned, slumping to the floor of the shower as I was overwhelmed by the sheer rapture that flooded my body.

It took me a good couple of minutes to regain my breath.

My mind was in a complete whirl. What had I just done? The idea of being fucked by my own father had had me masturbating myself to a climax.

Ashamed and embarrassed I slipped out of the shower and grabbed a towel to dry myself, trying to put the thought of what had just happened out of my mind.

After I had cleaned up and dressed, I busied myself with the various household chores that naturally accumulate during the week. The laundry went on, my clothes from the previous two nights certainly needed washing as did my work clothes from during the week. Then there was a bed to make, a pile of ironing to do, lunch to prepare and a few other tasks that took up all of the morning and part of the afternoon.

It was three o'clock when I finally got to sit down and pick up the local paper. Flicking through it I found the advertisement for Kitten's on the personals page.

'New girls always wanted' it stated at the bottom next to a phone number.

I read and re-read the ad trying to make sure I hadn't misunderstood anything about the nature of the place but it all seemed pretty straightforward. It even stated that the place opened on a Sunday, from 11 a.m. to 5 p.m.

Uncle Will had given me an overview of the brothel when he had fucked me the previous evening and then told me about how both he and my father used the place fairly regularly. My husband, Liam, had been able to add a little more from what other people had told him but admitted he had never been there himself.

Then after that I had done some research on the internet which had been a little more informative but not by much.

Only Uncle Will had categorically told me the place was a whorehouse. All the other sources that said it was a massage parlour were just a compilation of suggestion and inference.

By now it was 3.30 p.m. so biting the bullet I picked up the phone and, nervously, dialled the number given in the advert.

"Good afternoon, Kitten's Massage." A deep male voice at the other end of line answered on the third ring.

"Oh... err... hello, I'm calling about your ad." I told him nervously, "It says you're looking for new girls?"

"Yeah, that's right." The disembodied voice replied.

"Well... I... umm... I'm interested in applying. Can you... err... give me any more information?" I tried to keep my voice calm.

"Not over the phone sorry. Best thing to do is to come in and see Stefan, you know do an interview." The voice told me.

"Oh right, yeah OK, I can do that I guess." My heart was thumping at this point, "When's a good time?"

"You tell me when your available sweetheart, and I'll tell you what will suit him." I heard the voice say.

"Umm... daytimes are a bit awkward for me right now but I could get there for 5 o'clock most evenings. Other than that, it's the week-end." I informed him apologetically.

There was a brief pause as whoever was at the other end of the line consulted a diary, "Tuesday at 5 then. What's your name darling?"

"Oh yeah, it's umm... Sara." I used my pseudonym from working the street.

"OK Sara he'll see you at 5 o'clock Tuesday." He didn't say goodbye just simply rang off.

The paper was open in front of me and my phone still in my hand when Liam entered the room, literally as he disconnected the call.

"Did you them ring then?" he said from the doorway.

I looked up and nodded, "Yeah. I have an interview on Tuesday at 5."

"Well wear your best knickers." He grinned, "You'll be dropping them for sure."

"What does that mean?" I replied sharply.

"That whoever interviews you will want to try you out."

"Oh." I paused to think about what he had just said, "I didn't really consider that."

"Well, you should," He threw back over his shoulder as he left the room.

The rest of our Sunday was a typical one, cooking dinner, making preparations for the start of the working week and, generally, relaxing later on in the evening.

I put my upcoming interview out of my mind as I headed off to school on the Monday morning. It was always a shock to return to my normal life after spending any time as a working girl and this Monday morning was no different especially when the head teacher, the lecherous Roger Morris waylaid me on my way in to school.

"Good morning Katie." He greeted me as I walked in the front entrance to the school.

I tried to be polite despite my loathing for him, "Good morning Roger,"

He fell in to step alongside me, "How was your week-end? Many punters?"

I stopped and lowered my voice, "I thought we had settled this Roger. I'm not going to be your little sex toy. Not unless you want that video released."

"Oh no don't misunderstand me Katie." His leering face made me want to vomit, "I understand I'll have to pay if I want to fuck you."

"Only if I'm on the street." I informed him tartly, "I'm not available any other time."

He frowned and leaned closer to me, "That's a pity because I want you in my bed not my car. I want you naked and not just for a few minutes."

"Then you'll have to wait until I start work at Kitten's." I immediately regretted my words as soon as I said them.

"Really. That is interesting news." He grinned gleefully and turned to go back to his office.

I spent the rest of the day cursing my stupidity. Why had I let him goad me into saying that? He was the last person I wanted as a customer if I ended up working in the brothel.

Liam told me not to worry about it when I told him over dinner that night saying that he doubted that someone like my head teacher would want to be seen at a place like Kitten's.

Slightly reassured by this I tried to relax and spent some time that evening deciding what to wear the next day. My problem was that I would be going to my interview straight from school and I could hardly go to work in a tiny skirt or stockings. It was Liam who came up with a solution suggesting taking some jeans to school. I could change into those at the end of the day without too many comments.

In the end I even took a complete change of underwear, wanting to be in something sexy if I was going to have to 'perform'.

I managed to stay fairly calm throughout the Tuesday, focusing on my teaching and what the children were doing and forgetting at times where I was going that evening.

Finishing my class and dismissing them I quickly did my preparations for the next day and then hurried to the girl's bathroom to change before heading out of school. My husband had arranged to leave work early and picked me up outside of the school at 4.30 p.m. to drive me across town to the brothel.

The entrance to Kitten's was rather insignificant. Just a plain door with a small sign next to it. Tucked away down a small side street most people would pass it by without even realising it was there unless they were looking for it.

We were there a little early so I sat, nervously in the car until five to five and then giving my husband a kiss on the cheek I walked across the road and, taking a deep breath, in through the front entrance.

A stairway led me up to a first-floor landing where an older woman sat behind a reception desk. I guessed she was in her mid-forties with platinum blonde hair and heavy make-up. Her skirt was too short, showing off the stockings she wore underneath while her top was there purely to emphasise her voluptuous cleavage.

"Can I help you?" her disinterested smile did little to inspire me.

"Oh yeah... err... hi, I'm Sara...umm... I'm here to see Stefan." I tried to sound confident although I didn't feel it.

"The new girl I presume. OK wait there and I'll get someone to see if he's available." She told me frostily.

"Grant!" she called along the hallway behind her and a large black guy appeared.

"Yeah?" he looked me up and down.

"This is the new girl, take her into the waiting room and see if the boss is available." She instructed.

"Sure Mags." He replied, then turning to me "Follow me darlin."

Grant must have been 6' 6" at least, with a shaven head and built like sumo wrestler, he was enormous and terrifying.

I am only 5' 3" tall and fairly slender with a slim figure that measures 34A-23-34, so my breasts are very small. I do have nice legs, or so my husband says. My hair is straight, highlighted blonde, hanging down past my shoulders and to finish it off I have blue eyes and a cute little nose.

So, compared to him I looked tiny.

"Don't mind Mags, she's a real pussy cat once you get to know her." He informed me as he led me into a rather run-down looking room furnished with a few armchairs, a sofa and a small tv on a stand playing a porn film.

"Nice." I commented sarcastically looking around.

Grant laughed, "The punters don't come for the décor darlin."

With that he turned and left.

Gazing around at the tired, worn furniture, the faded wallpaper and chipped paint I realised that I had expected more. The picture Uncle Will had painted was of somewhere more luxurious and decadent. This was just a cheap whorehouse.

Ignoring the porn movie, I picked up a photo album that was laying on the coffee table. Flicking through it I found it was a collection of photos of the half-a-dozen girls who worked at the brothel. Each one had their own page with five or six pictures, some were of them in underwear while others showed them nude. With a shock I realised that if I came to work here, I would be on one of those pages.

"Oh sorry." I put the book down quickly when a shifty looking man came into the room.

I quickly realised it wasn't the owner when he looked me up and down before asking if I was available.

"No, sorry, I'm here for an interview." I mumbled as a busty brunette in stockings came in to collect him, giving me a wink as she escorted her punter away.

"Sara? I assume?" the voice made me jump and spun around.

The words came from a seedy looking thick-set man in his fifties with a slight paunch and receding hairline.

"Stefan?" I asked him.

He smiled, "That's me. Come through and we'll have a chat."

I followed him across the hallway and into another room. This one had a desk, a sofa and a couple of chairs along with some cabinets.

"Excuse the mess." He waved a hand aimlessly and dropped onto the chair behind his desk, "Take a seat."

Sitting opposite him I waited as he scrutinised me for a minute before speaking, "So, what's your real name sweetheart?"

"Katie."

"Well Katie, you can work under the name Sara if you like but don't tell me lies. OK?" he regarded me sternly.

"Umm... ok, sorry." I managed to mumble.

"And you're married I take it?" he regarded my left hand.

I held up my left hand twisting my ring around my finger, "Yes I am. Is that a problem?"

He shook his head, "Far from it. It will turn a lot of punters on knowing they are fucking a married woman?"

I didn't answer. He was only telling me something I already knew from working the street.

"Does he know?" he added.

"That I'm a whore and I'm here? Yes, he does."

Seemingly satisfied with my answers so far, he asked me if I had ever worked in a place like Kitten's before and I told him about my short time as a working girl on the trading estate.

He didn't seem particularly impressed, "Well, let me take down a few details then I can show you around and fill you in on how it works here."

Pulling out a piece of paper he went through some basic questions; name, phone number, age, measurements and such like, making a note of the answers I gave him.

Eventually, he put down his pen, "Let me show you around the place and then I'll fill in the important details."

Taking me on a guided tour around what was effectively just a large 3 bedroom flat I was shown two of the three bedrooms.

The first one he showed me was painted a deep red and dimly lit by one bulb in the ceiling. Dominated by a double bed with a single sheet covering the mattress, there was a bedside table with a large dish containing condoms next to it. At least two dozen I guessed when I glanced in. I also noticed there was also a tube of lubricant and a packet of wet wipes.

Scattered around the room were a few odd sticks of furniture; a chair, a wardrobe of sorts and a low table against the far wall with a pile of shabby towels and several bed sheets.

Moving on to the second bedroom I could see it was much the same as the first except for the colour, this one was purple.

"Melanie's using the other one. It's pink though, just so you know." He informed me and I assumed he meant that Melanie was the brunette I had met momentarily while I was waiting.

Aside from the three bedrooms, the office and waiting room there was also a bathroom, with a bath and a shower, as well as a kitchen.

"That's about it." Stefan told me as we returned to the office, "So, you interested?"

"Well, I'd like to hear about the rest first if that's ok?" I answered cautiously.

For the next few minutes, I sat and listened as he filled in the details that I really wanted to know.

It was illegal for them to operate as a brothel so instead he told me he advertised Kitten's as a topless massage parlour. Customers paid at the office for a half-hour massage while any other services were discussed in the room directly with the girls.

However, he advised me, all the girls were expected to adhere to a basic menu that covered oral sex, full intercourse and anal sex. The charge for each service was listed alongside it on the menu (£40 for oral, £60 for full sex and £100 for anal). The girls were also expected to pay 20% of their basic earnings as rent for the room.

He said that there were additional services that we could also provide such as a 1-hour GFE (girlfriend experience), spanking, dressing up or water sports.

"Any questions?" he asked when he finished.

"How much do we charge for the extra's?" I wanted to know.

"The GFE is for an hour and costs an extra £100, it involves anything a girlfriend would do in the hour including kissing but not unprotected sex. Dressing up and role play is up to you but most of the girls charge at least another £50 while water sports is left to each girls discretion, if you want to do that you charge what you want."

I had already decided I wanted to try working there even before coming for the interview but I still wanted to make a financial comparison with working on the street.

"So, how much could I expect to earn on a typical shift doing basic stuff?" I asked.

He pondered my question for a moment before answering, "Depends what shift but a looker like you on a Friday night. If you did a couple of girlfriend experiences, dressed up and did a few straight fucks maybe £400 to £500, maybe a bit more."

There really wasn't a decision to be made, the place was seedy and squalid and promised to provide me with the shame and humiliation I desperately craved.

"OK I'm in." I accepted his offer.

He grinned at me, "Perfect. Now what shifts can you do?"

Without telling him too much about my real life I explained my problem with work and the fact that week-days would be impossible except during the school holidays while evenings, apart from Friday would be difficult.

"Well, you have to work a shift on a Friday or Saturday, day or evening, that's mandatory for all the girls. So how about you do Friday evening, that's always busy and then you can do the Sunday day shift for now?" he suggested.

I happily agreed to his comprise, promising that I would also work a couple of days during the upcoming school half-term.

"Oh, what should I wear?" I asked him as a final question.

He shrugged, "The girls mostly just dress in their underwear but if I were you, I'd get myself some costumes especially a school uniform. You're a petite little thing and dressed like that you'll get more business than you can handle."

I got up from my seat and went to leave.