The Whore's Whore

Note: This is a story about a man who licks other men's cum out of his Mistress' pussy. You have been warned!

The story was edited by Mymantoy999. Thank you for your work!

*

"Angeline's" was a place with many faces. And which face she'd show you very much depended on who you were, what you wanted, and what time of day you came by.

Maybe you were a tourist, driving past the seedy old dive during broad daylight. Maybe you just stopped to ask for directions, it being the only public house for miles, here at the arse-end of god-knows-where. Maybe you were brave enough to actually take more than a few steps inside, despite the stale air and the not-really-all-that-friendly looks. And maybe Crisp, the barman, would actually tell you how to get to wherever it was you were going.

Or maybe you came sometime after sundown. Maybe you'd have a seat, down a beer, or something stronger. You'd have another, and another, and another; and suddenly, the place wouldn't seem all that bad anymore. That is, until you'd be thrown out unceremoniously the next morning, after waking up on the floor in a puddle of your own sick. And you'd remember, no matter how tough you thought you were, Angeline's could take you without breaking a sweat.

Or maybe you knew the password. You'd mutter it to Crisp, and he'd discreetly let you in the inconspicuous door at the back end. You'd walk past Mills, the hulking bouncer with arms like tree trunks. And you'd be free to enjoy everything Angeline's had to offer: gambling, drugs, and whores.

Oh, the whores. There were six of them; "the Angels", the boys called them. Each of them soft and curvy and big-titted, and just about perfect in her own, womanly way. And best of all, the Angels were always moist between the legs. No matter what John they'd spread for, they were always dripping wet; and not with lube, either. The real, slippery, 100% organically produced stuff. Maybe they took drugs for it, maybe they were really just that horny -- who knew, and who cared. For that reason alone, the Angels, expensive as they were, never lacked business.

Angeline's was a place with many faces, Vike had always known. He had no idea just how true that was, though. He thought he knew all about the illegal dealings that went on behind those grimy doors. Fuck, was he wrong about that, let's put it that way.

***

Let's rewind a little, though. Vike -- first of all, he wasn't actually christened by that name, but everybody 'round here called him so, short for "Viking", on account of his long, blond mane, broad shoulders, and hard, square jaw. So, Vike...

...Vike was just realizing that he might have fucked up just a little bit too thoroughly, this time. His foot was all the way down on the pedal, but he didn't even know where he was going. The trees kept swishing by, dangerously fast. A glimpse in the rear mirror showed him that the pursuing all-road motorcycle had no problems keeping up.

Also, Vike's pick-up was out of gas. Because of course it was. Not refueling was one of those things one did if one was completely, utterly broke. The motor sputtered and died. Vike had a premonition that he was going to be just as dead in the not-so-distant future.

He coasted on empty for a good while; eventually, the truck came to a standstill. Vike got out, and tried to make a run for it. Really stupid, even for him. He ran, and ran, and fucking ran some more. The all-road was just kind of driving next to him, almost humorously.

Eventually, Vike had to stop. He hunched over, completely out of breath. He felt like throwing up, except, he didn't even remember the last time he had eaten. He glanced up; his vision was kind of blurry, but there was no mistaking the sight of Mills getting off his motorcycle, taking off his helmet, being kind of relaxed about it all. Because why wouldn't he be.

The huge man approached. Desperate, Vike tried to sum up some of his patented Viking Charm TM... and completely failed. He rallied:

"Wait, man, wait! I'm sure we can work something out! Just, wait..."

As mentioned, Vike was a man with a nice, strong jaw; and Mills was a man with big, strong hands. Momentarily, the two connected. Also, Vike passed out.

***

Vike slowly regained consciousness; he felt like shit. First, he noticed that he was a bit chilly. Then he noticed that he was naked. Then he noticed that he was sitting in front of two very unfriendly looking folks.

Vike promptly got up and bolted. He wasn't tied up, nor did anybody try to stop him, as he stumbled across the room, towards the nearest door. He burst through it, and found himself in one of the backrooms of Angeline's, deserted now during daytime. He darted between the gambling tables, trying to reach the door that would take him to the front section of the establishment; from there, he could reach the road...

'I hope that door isn't locked,' he thought. And: 'Why is nobody trying to stop me?' And also: 'Is there something attached to my leg?'

It was around that point when a generously voltaged electroshock fried Vike's testicles. He let out a yowl, made a funny face, and crumpled to the floor, his hands cradling his privates.

"There are electrodes attached to your balls, Vike," a lady explained.

"Unnnnfmmmmhhhhh," Vike replied.

So, Vike was carried back to the previous room and plonked back down on his chair. The two unfriendly folks were still unfriendly. And maybe it should be specified that they were in fact Mills, the mountain-sized bouncer; and Aoife, a gorgeous redhead, and Vike's favorite girl here at Angeline's.

"You know why you're here," she began. It wasn't a question.

Of course, Vike knew. "But I thought I have a tab here!" he tried.

"Yes, Vike; a big, fat, gigantic tab. We're aware, believe me. And now you can't even pay the interest anymore," said Aoife evenly.

"I will!" Vike pleaded. "I will, promise! Let me just talk to Crisp, I can explain everything!"

"Crisp? What the hell do you want with Crisp?"

"Well, he... owns this place?" Or so Vike had always assumed. All of a sudden, he wasn't so sure about that anymore, though.

Aoife huffed. Behind her, Mills just laughed out loud, as if it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. Bastard.

Vike tried again: "Well, if not Crisp... just let me talk to the owner, alright? I'm sure we can work something out, man to man..."

"Vike... the owner is standing right in front of you," Aoife said. The edge in her voice could have cut diamond.

"But... whu?" managed Vike.

"Us girls, the six of us. We own this place together. Crisp, Mills, and everybody else who works here... they are our employees." Aoife spoke slowly, as if she was dealing with a complete idiot. Which, come to think of it... she was.

"Whu... but... why... but... ok... but... ...I'll pay you back!" Vike exclaimed, like a blind dog who had finally found a bone.

Aoife rolled her eyes. "Ok, Vike, I'm getting bored here, so let's cut the crap, shall we? You and I both know that you're broke, and you have no way of coming up with that kind of money, in the short term or long. As it happens, there's a position open here at Angeline's. So, you are going to work for us. Food and lodging get taken off your pay right away, the rest goes towards paying off your debt."

"But that can't be legaAAAAAHHHHhhhhhhng!" tried Vike, before his nuts lit up again. Which motivated him to stay silent for the rest of the conversation. And also, sob a little bit.

"I wasn't finished," Aoife continued. "As I was just about to point out again, there are electrodes attached to your balls. Those electrodes are in turn connected to that ankle monitor, which doubles as a battery, and receiver for remote signals. You try to leave here, we hurt you. You do something we don't appreciate, we hurt you. You try to take off the electrodes or the monitor..." Here, Aoife moved in very closely, and whispered in his ears: "... we will fucking castrate you."

Vike looked up and nodded. He wasn't all that smart, but he had understood the situation.

***

So, working at Angeline's. It wasn't anything Vike could have come up with in his wildest dreams. But it did explain why the Angels were always so wet. But let's start from the beginning.

It was the first evening after Vike had been taken. Surprisingly, the folks at Angeline's had taken really good care of him, once he had surrendered. They bandaged his bruised face, fed him well, made him shower, and let him sleep for a while.

He was woken shortly before sundown. Aoife, in only her lacy underwear, was seated in front of a brightly lit mirror, getting ready for work. They were in the chamber where she'd also receive her Johns later. Aoife applied a generous amount of make up and perfume, and spent a long time arranging her long, lushous hair just so. Vike had had no idea how much effort went into getting dolled up. Watching her silently from the side, he started to get seriously aroused. She was beautiful; all soft curves, full lips, and big, heavy breasts.

"'Kay, Vike, your first day at work," Aoife said, matter-of-factly. And with a note of menace: "Don't disappoint me."

She dropped her panties and sat on the edge of the big, soft bed. With a quick, vulgar gesture she indicated that she expected him to eat her out. She leaned backwards and spread her long legs. Her pussy opened itself in front of Vike like an exotic flower.

And in that moment, Vike couldn't believe his luck. "Work", at Angeline's, apparently consisted of eating out Aoife. Sure, he'd rather stick in his cock than his tongue, but he wasn't going to complain. It was still better than any job he'd done in his life!

Vike went to his knees by the bed, and took one more moment to take in the woman spread out in front of him. She was breathtaking. Her nether lips, below a shy bush of soft hair, were large and generous. He moved in and sniffed her pussy. She smelled like pure woman; he dove in.

He started with shallow licks, slowly wetting her lips with his salvia. He moved up and down, making sure to cover all of it. She moaned softly, which made him grin. He moved up, and started to give some special attention to her clitoris. More wordless, contented noises left her mouth.

The lady's taste started to intensify, as her pussy became moister and moister. Happily, Vike kept licking, going deeper, while slowly moving down one hand to touch himself.

"None of that," Aoife reprimanded. Vike frowned, but let go of his dick. He kept licking her...

"Ok, boy. That was pretty decent," Aoife drawled, slowly closing her legs, and pushing the man away. Vike took the compliment with a smile, and looked up at her like a puppy dog.

"Careful with your thing, though," she said, gesturing at his dick, still erect and oozing.

"But, I don't see the harm in..." Vike began; but she interrupted him: "Orgasms are my trade. And you are here for work, not pleasure. Each orgasm you have in my presence gets added to your debt right away, and you won't get payed for that evening, either. Are we clear?"

Vike nodded sullenly.

"Good. Now, I'm expecting the first customer any moment. You go in there, and not a sound!" She pointed at a large closet in the corner.

Vike had been many times in this room before -- too many times, really - to enjoy Aoife's services. But he had never paid much attention to the furniture in the room; and why should he have. But opening the closet door and finding a low stool inside, he started to seriously wonder. Had there been somebody in there each time he had paid Aoife a visit? He entered and closed the door behind him, and sat on the stool. The closet was just barely big enough to contain him; it wasn't a comfortable situation.

As his eyes started to adjust to the darkness, Vike saw that there was a peep hole in the closet door, at just the right height. He squinted to get a glimpse...

There was Aoife, who had put on a very short, very tight dress. She was kind of half-humming, half-dancing around the room without much purpose, seemingly content. Then there was a rap on the door. She put on a smile, and went to greet her John.

Vike knew him; he went by 'Fonzo', probably short for Alphonso, or something. Vike had gotten drunk with him many more times than he cared to admit. Especially since he couldn't really stand the dude, if was being honest about it. He was kind of an asshole, and 'sides, drove the nicer truck.

This was eery, though. The way Aoife behaved around the guy. Vike recognized her flirtatious manner, saw how performed it was. She had been with him like this many times in the past. Vike felt humiliated by the realization.

And now Fonzo was pulling down his pants, dick pointing upwards. Aoife was lying down on her back, spreading her legs. This... this was so wrong! She couldn't do that! That pussy was his! He had licked her wet and open, and now it was his right to...

Fonzo penetrated her, and she moaned. From his secret vantage point, Vike witnessed a scene that disturbed him, but he couldn't take his eyes off them, either. He could see Fonzo's hairy asshole, bouncing up and down. He could see the exact spot where he entered her, where he kept thrusting into her, again and again. He could see how her pussy lips wrapped themselves around the other man's cock, making him glisten with her slippery juices.

While Vike watched jealously, he felt something come loose in the dark corners of his mind. He caught a whiff of a strange, unsettling emotion. He clamped down on it hard, before the feeling could further take shape. He tried to distract himself by concentrating on that despicable man, who was roughly fucking the girl of his dreams right in front of him.

Finally, Fonzo let out a strangled yelp, indicating that he was coming. He remained a few moments, panting; then he pulled out. Aoife and him exchanged some half-hearted pleasantries, and Fonzo left again.

Aoife took a short moment to collect herself. Then she sat down on the edge of the bed, and called for Vike. He came out of the cabinet, pissed off. Part of him knew he didn't have any right to feel that way, but... well, he did, ok?

Aoife only raised a cool eyebrow at the anger that must have been showing on his face. Then she spread her legs again, indicating: 'next round.'

Vike's anger was instantaneously replaced with horror. Surely, she wouldn't make him lap up Fonzo's...

"Do your job," she commanded.

"Well, but... can't you at least... wash..."

"Do. Your. Job." And as she said it, she glanced down at Vike's ankle monitor. He didn't see how she had gotten hold of the remote, but there it was, glinting in her hand.

Vike gave it one last, desperate try. He composed his chiseled face, made his best puppy dog eyes, and put on a rueful half-smile. This would melt any woman's heart, he thought.

"Aoife, please..."

"You know, you are a very attractive man, Vike," she sighed. "And right now, you're being even more sexy than usual..."

Full of desperate hope, Vike doubled down on the puppy eyes.

"... which makes me crave your handsome face between my thighs even more. So, get down there and Do. Your. Job. Or I will scramble those eggs!"

So, that settled that.

Vike went to his knees. She opened herself to him. Her cunt was wet and messy. A small, elongated drop of white, creamy semen was slowly oozing out of her.

He closed his eyes, then bravely moved closer. He sniffed her; her womanly scent was mingled with intense, nasty man-musk. He took a careful lick. The salty taste... the creamy texture...

He felt her hands grabbing the back of his head firmly, preventing him from moving away again. So he did the only thing left to him, and kept licking her sloppy twat. She gasped in pleasure, getting wetter; at the same time, more cum drizzled down her canal, into his mouth. Eventually, Vike had to swallow the creamy glop.

He didn't retch. To his own surprise, he didn't even have to suppress a heave. He just gulped it down, calmly accepting it.

"What did I say about touching yourself?" Aoife warned, between lusty moans.

Without even noticing Vike had started masturbating again. Confused, he forced his hands behind his back, and tried to concentrate on cleaning up his mistress.

There was a part of him that was screaming in revulsion. What. What was even happening. This was disgusting! ...and yet, to his utter and complete confusion, that was not the part of him that was in command.

No, Vike was under the sway of that other, unspoken, unspeakable part of him; that deep, dark, pitch-black part. An aspect of his soul that he had kept safely locked away, or so he had thought. But here it was, unstoppable, oozing out of its confinement from the darkest corners of his mind, like crude oil from a busted tank. In his head, the mingled feelings of shame and arousal felt as smeary as the sticky cream on his tongue. Vike felt himself surrender; the darkness completely took over his mind. It would never let go of him again, he knew with inexplicable certainty.

He moved in for deeper and deeper licks; swallowed the nectar he managed to salvage from deep inside her; dove in again, for more... Vike was in a trance. The penetrating taste, that mix of man and woman, it filled his mouth, his mind. He groaned blissfully. He was so thirsty. And he was so ashamed; so, so ashamed. Yet he kept going, until he had slurped every single last drop of Fonzo out of her.

"Oh my," Aoife laughed, breathing heavily herself. "You certainly took to it quickly."

Vike couldn't utter a single word; in fact, couldn't manage to even think a single straight thought. He was still kneeling. He hung his head, his face burning red from shame, so much shame. He was disgusting... and he felt so good about that. And that made him feel so ashamed. Which he felt so good about. Which made him feel so ashamed...

"Snap out of it, boy!" Aoife called. She pointed at the closet: "Next customer's about to arrive, chop chop!"

Feeling a little shell-shocked, Vike walked to the cabinet and locked himself in again. He sat down, his mind still a helpless mess. After just sitting there for a good long while, he just kind of gave up, and decided to watch the show through the peep-hole, instead of trying to make sense of whatever the fuck was going on up there between his ears.

The John was already dropping his trousers; he was a black guy with deep, dark skin; and boy, was it true what they said about black guys, at least in this case. It wasn't just the length, which was considerable. The girth of it... scared Vike a little, if he was being honest.

Aoife seemed unfazed, however. She dropped to all fours, arching her back and tilting up her ass. The guy whistled appreciatively. He slowly, slowly pushed in.

Aoife groaned; Vike could tell that she had to put in real effort to accommodate the man. But she was such a pro. She took him all the way down to the base of his throbbing manhood. The guy started fucking her, at first very gently.

"Harder!" she moaned. "Please, Sir, fuck me harder!"

He let out a noise that was half moan, half laugh, and started seriously pounding her. Her cunt was getting subjected to a serious, intense, deep-drilling. Eyes wide, Vike could not believe it. Sweat was running down his temples. Between his legs, his cock was rock hard, and painfully throbbing, yearning for release.

The John climaxed; pumping, fucking his seed deep, deep inside her. Him and Aoife both let out a passionate cry. He held her, panting, still inside her. She let out a low, satisfied purr.

'So, this is what it means to fuck' Vike thought, gulping. 'This is what it means to be a man.'

The John carefully pulled out. A glob of jizz immediately splurged out her cunt, drizzling on the mattress. 'No!' Vike almost called out loud. 'Don't let it... go to waste...'