tagNovels and NovellasThe Slut's Apprentice Ch. 01-03

The Slut's Apprentice Ch. 01-03

bytiggerlilly©

Chapter 1

Sluttage

Some women are born sluts

Some achieve slutdom

Some have slutdom thrust upon them

I could be called an undercover slut.

Some people have suggested that growing up in a brothel sowed the seeds of my slutdom. I was in fact the last of my group of friends to lose their virginity. I do have a fairly strict definition of being deflowered: it was a man's penis entering my vagina. Darren was technically a man at twenty-one and his little prick was technically a penis. I do not count: sex toys, no matter how lifelike, foodstuffs, toes, fingers and hands, sports equipment or lightbulbs (yes it was energy saving and yes, I did glow in the dark, but no, I am never ever doing that again). It is surprising just how short and tight my vagina remains. I do have exquisite control over my pelvic musculature.

I also do not count anything that I may have put in my mouth or accepted up my arse.

The brothel in which I grew up was disguised as a South London hotel built at the end of the nineteenth century. It was set back from a busy road behind a screen of plane trees and a high wall. Most of the thousands of commuters who passed by daily did not even notice its presence. It has been owned my family since the nineteen sixties, as has the terrace of houses to the side.

As far as anyone knows it has always been a brothel and skilled management rather than luck has kept it that way. Its heyday had been in Edwardian time when it was claimed that every third house in London was a knocking shop. Things went slowly downhill after that and by the late fifties rooms were rented to the local tarts on an hourly basis; those rooms that still had glass in the windows.

In 1964 my great grandmother was a successful madam in Stockholm but had to leave Sweden in a hurry due to some 'legal difficulties'. Her sister already lived in London and the old hotel was ripe for restoration. The owner had an unfortunate accident. Great grandma had a lot of cash and rebuilt the hotel and the business, largely employing her own family, including my nan and her sisters. The sixties were starting to swing and high-class hookers were much in demand as well as late night drinking and gambling. Great grandma introduced such innovations as the invisible guest and expensive service contracts with local companies owned by shell companies. Money went into the correct local pockets and my nan married her richest client, the scion of a newly arrived immigrant family who had moved from smuggling in the Mediterranean to the rapidly expanding security industry.

Management passed down the generations and my own mother is the current manager/ madam.

Nobody questions coming and goings at a hotel nor it seems the relative lack of vacancies. The invisible guest is still essential and he always pays in cash, drinks like a fish and tips outrageously. Regular guests are well looked after and never suspect that they are cover for major crime. Many shake their heads at Mum's apparent lack of business sense.

"If only you advertised, dear. You could make a fortune."

Mum would smile and say how happy she was with personal recommendations.

The hotel is open for lunches (when most of the staff are just waking up) and has a rather good local reputation both with customers and environmental health who never find so much as a mouse's squeak when they inspect. The chefs and waiters are all ex-cons who are very grateful for the work and repay the trust that my mother has given them. They would not dare do otherwise. They all double as security.

The tall Victorian houses to one side are divided in to flats which are part of the family estate and are rented to carefully selected tenants who are not particularly nosy and appreciate the criminally low rents. Some of the working girls also rent and understand that no business is to be conducted in their flats.

The actual income generated is somewhat different from the income declared to the tax man and finds its way circuitously to Switzerland and Liechtenstein. A hotel is a very efficient enterprise for laundering the proceeds ill-gotten gains.

I was made aware of the existence of the oldest profession at a tender age and accepted it the way other children accept that their parents are politicians or bankers. I was kept safe from any sexual predation but I learnt more than the basic facts of life from the working girls who were extremely kind to my sisters and I.

It seemed natural that I would start working as a maid, waitress and receptionist.

There was a surprisingly large amount of cleaning to be done. I was given the dungeon; one of the least popular jobs.

The dungeon was possibly the finest in town but a lot of bodily fluids were spilt, most of which could start to hum if not cleaned away quickly. I was frequently to be found on my knees or up a ladder with a soapy sponge in one hand and a UV lamp in the other rather like a crime scene investigator. Semen everywhere. Then there was the equipment and paraphernalia; ropes, manacles, gags, chains, whips, leather and rubber wear, floggers, paddles, dildoes, clamps and what were referred to as 'miscellanea'.

The three domina wore a lot of studded leather and liked it kept clean and supple. If I failed I was liable to get a slap across the back of my thighs. Unfortunately, I rather enjoyed that. The dungeon fascinated me and I fantasised about what went on down there (I was too young to be allowed to watch) and even more about how it would feel to be on the receiving end of serious discipline.

A successful brothel had to be run like most businesses but with an obvious large amount of secrecy. Nan was quite happy to share her wisdom with all of us kids. The most important point was not to attract attention.

This involved not being greedy, paying the taxman, the local police and the local crime family. The clientele was acquired by recommendation and had to make appointments. Rampant illegality was not allowed; in particular no underage girls and no trafficked illegal immigrants. Minor recreational drug use was tolerated. Nan had four children and ten grandchildren, all of whom worked in the family business to a greater or lesser extent. The other girls were treated like family. A few lived in but most lived out. Each girl had considerable control over when they worked and what they were prepared to do. They all had 'official' jobs as maids, receptionists or waitresses and paid tax. The Revenue did not care that the hotel had so many staff. The considerable cost of being a student in London provided another source of attractive young talent, who were able to supplement their loans in a physically safe environment. Quite a few lived in Nan's flats. It was made very clear that they were not to entertain clients at their flats.

I have little memory of my father which is probably just as well. He was tall, blonde and blue eyed and so managed not to dilute the family Nordic features. He was asked to leave when his filthy habits became known. He is currently doing time for said habits.

My mum was keen to enforce her moral code; particularly the importance of not mixing business with pleasure. Sex education was quite practical. My mum was the oldest of three girls and all my aunts worked for the family firm and did their best to gently corrupt the younger members. It was a rite of passage, just after our fourteenth birthday to be marched by Mum down to the GP to be put on the pill. I was far more interested in girls and one in particular and I only really messed about with boys when she told me to.

I have two older sisters. We have all inherited my Nan's Scandinavian height, blonde hair and fine features.

I am not exactly beautiful. I am six foot three. My arms and legs are too long and I look lanky. I have to be careful not to stoop. My shoulders are too wide and my hips too narrow. I compensate by playing a lot of sport and lifting a lot of weights which leaves me athletic rather than butch. I have straight, corn coloured hair, a straight nose and light green eyes. My thin lips make me look bitchy.

I have tiny tits. I had toyed with the idea of implants but I liked not having to wear a bra and the idea of them bouncing around when I played netball was a turn off. I love netball and I am good. I also run and kick-box.

I am naturally shy and awkward, which tends to come across as being aloof. At school I was called the ice queen or the snooty bitch. My friends call me Cat.

Dani is two years older than me, three inches shorter and is quite simply a goddess. Her body is perfectly in proportion. Her hair is longer than mine and paler and she has the face of an angel with full cupid bow lips and cornflower blue eyes. Imagine a Hollywood actress and that is Dani just after she has got out of bed. Her tits, subtly enhanced are a thing of amazing beauty upon which much semen has been deposited. Dani has three small tattoos, of hummingbirds on her right shoulder, left buttock and the right side of her groin. Dani loves cock.

Alex is five years older than me and is a fallen angel. Like Dani she is six foot and like me, broad shouldered and slim hipped. Her hair is a dirty blonde (and goes through frequent colour changes) and she has pale blue eyes which make her look cruel. Alex works out and packs on the muscle with a little chemical assistance. She has swimmer's shoulders, a six pack and big thighs. She has large fake breasts. She has one tattoo and it is huge. It is a multi-coloured lizard that covers most of her back. One of its front paws reaches round and its claws seem to pierce her right breast. Its tail disappears into her bum crack, crosses her perineum and its tip enters her vagina. It cost a fortune. Alex loves sex and is not choosy. The rougher the better.

None of us has any body hair at all; the result of thorough laser treatment.

Dani and I are as close as sisters can be. Alex is a wanton slut and was my role model. I loved her as more than just a sister. Ours was a forbidden love. I had wondered whether she meant to corrupt me all along. Alex said that I did not need corrupting; I was born a slut and am naturally devious. That was not quite the truth.



Chapter 2

The Early years

The less said about this, the better.

Chapter 3

12th December

Slut's Birthday Surprise

Mum was a bit taken aback by my birthday request and this led to some amusing misunderstanding.

"I want a session in the dungeon," said I boldly.

"OK, but not by yourself, Catherine. Alexandra will need to be there too."

I nodded enthusiastically and Mum continued.

"It is not as simple as it looks and Alexandra has a real talent and makes it look easy."

I nodded again.

"We won't have any trouble finding a willing punter. In fact they will pay a fortune for a fresh young thing like you to thrash them. Dressed as a schoolgirl no doubt, knowing Alexandra."

"No Mum. I want to be disciplined. By Alex. In the dungeon."

Mum was nonplussed.

"Oh. Are you sure? Why can't you have a boob job like a normal girl? It will hurt you know and Alexandra won't stop until you say the safe word."

"Of course," I said innocently. "It is just something I want to get out of my system. I know she will be gentle with me.

I knew very well that Alex would be anything but gentle and I had already spent much time bent over her knee, graduating from open hand through the ruler to the cane. I am constantly amused at how much people underestimate the humble cane. It really hurts and leaves beautiful wheals but because it relies more on speed than brute force it does not generally cause bruising.

I knew exactly what I wanted. I was a filthy slut, sorry apprentice slut and I needed severe punishment. I needed to be whipped.

My birthday was on a Wednesday; a typical December day, dull and grey with fine drizzle. The sun grudgingly rose above the horizon for a few hours but did not bother to pierce the cloud and went home to bed mid-afternoon. We had a hockey match that day which we won easily. Hockey brings out the worse in me; must be the big stick. I had a fight with one of their players. Despite being flat chested I always wear a sports bra for hockey. She did not which made it easy for me to give her a purple nurple

Alex and Mum picked me up, in a taxi after the match. I was freshly showered, clean and fragrant.

I was taken to a small photographic studio, where I had to strip before being photographed topless and nude with close ups of my bald pussy. I was not allowed to undress behind a screen because it was essential that I overcome my natural shyness.

We dropped Mum back at the hotel and Alex announced that she had a little surprise for me. She took me to a pub in Chelsea which was way out of my usual area. It was OK but seemed pretty busy for 6 O'clock on a Wednesday. It was entirely occupied by women; most of whom looked pretty butch and openly apprised Alex and I as we walked in. It is fortunate that Alex and I look so different. I do not think anybody twigged that we were sisters. I was wearing my usual school attire of conservative business suit. Alex was wearing a leather jacket, ripped jeans and Docs. She took off her jacket to reveal a white crop top. I gasped. She had clearly been working out hard as her belly and shoulders were seriously ripped. I could only guess that she did it for me. I love big shoulders.

We found a booth and Alex told me to stand up and take off my shoes. I did as I was told and she quickly removed my trousers and knickers. I sat down next to her. Fortunately my blouse was quite long. The wolf whistles made me blush a little but I so enjoyed flaunting myself for Alex's amusement. She left me to go to the bar. I looked around and registered a good twenty pairs of eyes fixed on my rather lovely knees. I stared right back. Alex was not long and returned with two pints of cider.

We each had a sip and then Alex fixed me with her glacial eyes. My birthday present was to come in two parts. This afternoon she explained was a surprise and really just foreplay. The main course however would take a bit of planning.

"Are you sure that you want to go through with this? As taboo breakers, there doesn't come much worse."

"What?" I said cheerily. "You haven't got a horse have you?"

"No, of course not. Would you?"

"Yes, if you told me to."

"Don't be stupid, Cat. A horse cannot consent for one thing."

"Ah. Don't be so sure. You know my friend Charlotte?"

"The one who is obsessed about horses? And conveniently looks like one?"

"Yes. That's her. Her family own race horses and Charlotte sometimes helps getting sperm from the boy horses for artificial insemination. Apparently the stable girls have to do it. One of them has to be on her period and she takes off her bottom things and touches her toes in front of the horse. This apparently turns him on and the other girl wanks him off until he comes in a bucket. Anyway, her cousin actually blows the horse and then spits the cum into the bucket. Charlotte tried but couldn't get the thing in her mouth."

Alex rolled her eyes.

"And then you had sex?"

"Well yes," I conceded.

"Cat. You are not only a filthy bitch; you are a gullible one too. Horse face was clearly spinning you a line to get in your knickers. Were you drunk?"

"Yes. Very. And Charlotte was rubbish. She claimed amnesia the next morning which suited me fine."

Alex frowned menacingly.

"Pay attention, slut. This is going to be an especially intense experience for both of us. I am going to hurt you but not badly and that trust can be scary. You may want to tell lots of people but you can't. Our love always has to be kept secret. Do you think that you can do that?"

I gulped.

"Yes."

I leaned forward and gently kissed her. Her lips parted and I slid my tongue into her mouth. The kiss was gentle and prolonged. Alex broke it and got out her little red book. She had explained to me that a good scene should be planned ahead and the Bottom (i.e. me) should lead. I however wanted her to lead and I trusted Alex completely. I told her roughly what I wanted her to do and she wrote it in her book as if she were going to prepare an estimate for a new kitchen. We kissed again and Alex sent me to the bar to get more drinks. I had to show my ID and more than one dyke felt me up. I pretended not to notice. In fact, I was fantasising about my upcoming torture back at the dungeon and was exceedingly wet.

We drank the second pint in silence; our eyes locked together.

Alex stood up and commanded me to remove her boots. I did this with my back to the bar. Fortunately my jacket was long enough to cover my arse.

Alex got up and slung her jacket and boots over her shoulder. She set off in the direction of the Ladies. I obediently followed. The Ladies' toilet was huge and very clean. It had five cubicles which seemed excessive, however one had the door closed and was clearly occupied by two women by the amount of noise coming from it. Another cubicle had its door opened to reveal a chunky skinhead being orally serviced by another chunky skinhead. Two women were fixing their make up in the mirror which allowed them to keep an eye on the copulating couple. Another pair were snorting cocaine.

Alex ignored all of them and found an unoccupied cubicle. She peeled off her top and pulled down her jeans to do a wee and then pointed indicating that I was to remove them completely. She was not wearing knickers.

Alex barked at me.

"Strip."

I shrugged out of my jacket and slowly unbuttoned my crisp white cotton blouse. Once fully exposed I hung my blouse up with my jacket and knelt in front of my lesbian lover. I bowed my head and offered Alex my long blonde ponytail. Alex shifted her pelvis forward and pulled my head in towards her smooth twat. The tip of Alex's fat clitoris had swollen out of its trimmed hood like a circumcised penis. I licked at the gold ring that pierced the clit tip and sucked the little organ in to my mouth, rolling the prepuce further back along the clitoral shaft. I found the little gap between the two frenula of her hood and underneath the shaft and pushed my tongue in hard, knowing that this hurt and would cause even more blood to engorge her love button. Alex groaned and I extended my long tongue over her sopping vestibule and tickled the opening to her vagina. I knew what Alex liked and my rapid tongue movement caused a little river of cunt sap to emerge from her vagina. I lapped this up eagerly. Alex pulled harder and harder on my pony tail which really stated to hurt and pushed my sexual excitement up by several degrees. I knew that I was not allowed to touch myself yet and my self-discipline hung on by a thread.

Instead I reached up and kneaded her massive tits; rolling her pierced nipples between thumb and forefinger.

"Harder," she commanded and I began to twist and pull Alex's nipple rings. I could tell that she was near her peak when she started humping my face, arched her back and let out a series of long sighs. Alex liked a break after she had come, otherwise her clit became too tender. She put her magnificent thighs together and I straddled her, kissing her tenderly, letting her taste her own cum.

Alex grabbed my pony and whipped my head back lightly biting the cords of my neck. Then she whispered in my ear, "I want you now bitch. Turn around and squat on my thighs. I did as instructed and balanced on her steely quads, bracing myself by pushing my hands against the walls of the cubicle.

I was not surprised to see eight or so women staring at my bald pussy neatly framed by my rock hard adductors. Most of the women were masturbating or being masturbated.

I blushed furiously. I was not really an exhibitionist by nature. I had been blessed with a reasonable body and it seemed unfair not to show it to others but dogging was not really my thing. Being treated like a piece of meat was exquisitely humiliating and feeling like a degraded slut in the service of my mistress was an amazing turn on

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