Victoria's Secret: War Whore

Victoria started to open the door, but in a flash the corporal flew around the limo to open the door for her, releasing Victoria into the crowded market square. She picked through the tomatoes first, then moved onto the apples. They weren't very good. Why couldn't these idiots grow a respectable English apple.

In truth, Victoria wasn't paying much attention to the fruit. Out of the corner of her eye she watched the people gawking at her. The women glared daggers. The men smiled... or leered. Everywhere she could here the whispers of the gawkers.

"Doda": Prostitute

"Humpa": Whore

"coo hut": Cock Sucker

She hadn't known their gibberish language before the war. But she learned it quickly in the brothel. The men spoke to her in THEIR language, and she was expected to understand. She now knew more words for "pussy" in their babbling jabberwocky than she did in her own.

"Poo-see sucker," Mr. Gonut said, whispering it as curse as he passed. Victoria blushed. She didn't want to put on sex shows with Diana and Kate and the other women. The Japanese demanded it, and the locals cheered them on. Why then was Victoria condemned for it?

"Miss, Miss, I get you bag. I pick out fruit for you. I pick out best. Very best. You say what want, I get."

Victoria turned to see Mr. Pahpah, the owner of the fruit market, bowing graciously before her, half filled fruit bag in hand. She had known him for years, even before the war, although naturally she had never bothered to learn his name before he had fucked her. He was humble, and kind, and Victoria had always liked him. He had been one of the nicer ones, content to simply have her suck his cock and finish him off with some straight missionary position sex. He had never been cruel about it, and even apologized as he climbed on top of her.

"So sorry, Miss, so sorry. The war," he'd shrug, as if that explained it. "I have coupon."

Victoria blushed as she remembered the coupons. The dammed Japs had given the locals coupons to fuck her and the other prostitutes, rationing their pussies like they were cigarettes or candy or liquor. The pink coupons were good for a 15 minute session, and every household got 5 coupons a month. The coupons were freely traded; Victoria still remembered how her face burned crimson when the slow witted young man who had been charged with polishing her boots at the mansion told her that he had purchased the right to fuck her up the ass for 2 teabags.

The coupons could be used for any prostitute in the city, including the locals. But because the coupons were pink the household staff began derisively referring to Victoria and her friends as "our English Roses." When the gardener sprayed them with delousing agent behind the toolshed he was "spraying the roses", spankings and canings were jokingly referred to as "bush trimmings".

Like most of her other customers the little boot polisher seemed to revel her humiliation, waving his pink ticket in her face and asking her to show him how many tickets she had earned that day. He was a bit surprised when Victoria showed him her fistful of tickets; she was an industrious girl.

"You fuck lot today, English Rose. You spread your legs for every man on Island. Now you spread legs for me. You feel that, don't you, English whore? I service you for years. Now you service me, with your sweet blonde poo-seee."

"I like you this way. Naked. On back. Legs spread. Mouth shut. Humping away! Just like English bitch should be."

"Look at me. Look at me while I fuck you. You pretty. You think I handsome. Say it. Tell me that you love me. Fuck me like you on honeymoon, ha-ha!"

The bastard still worked at the mansion. She liked getting her boots dirty, knowing he would have to clean the muck off.

Unlike the other locals Mr. Pahpah didn't enjoy humiliating her, he just enjoyed fucking her. Plus he didn't really look at her, which was good. Just a long, slow hump as the fat man enjoyed her wet tightness. Now the fat little fruit picker stood in front of her, reaching to take her bag. "I pick for you, Miss. I pick best. I do good job. I give you best."

Ignoring the fact that he had fucked her only a few weeks before Victoria reverted to the RP accent and superior tone befitting a woman of her rank and station. "Thank you kindly, but I can pick my own fruit."

Looking embarrassed Mr. Pahpah leaned in. "Other women won't pick fruit you touch. Sorry Miss. So sorry."

Victoria looked around to see every woman in the marketplace, frozen in place and glaring at her.

"Humpa," one of them spat. "Whore."

Victoria blushed as she realized what had happened. Mr. Pahpah had bagged everything she had touched. The other women didn't want a whore touching their food.

"I'll take your bag," she said. Victoria could feel herself blushing hotly but didn't want the women to see it. She turned away, but everywhere there seemed to be angry female eyes glaring at her.

Mr. Pahpah wouldn't take her money. "Go. Go. Go," he said.

"Very well. Do bill the Governor's Mansion," she said, with a grandeur she did not feel.

"The Governor's Mansion", she thought. It was no longer a place of refuge. That morning she had dressed by herself, bathed herself, and made her own breakfast. Before the war she had been waited on hand-and-foot; now she spoke with the servants, all of whom had gleefully fucked her, or laughed at her as she was fucked, as little as possible.

After the invasion her Uncle's house had been seized and turned into the military headquarters of the Japanese Empire. She had been allowed to stay, working in the brothel that was in the Officer's Club in the guesthouse behind the main building. She still saw her butlers, cooks, gardeners, maids, and maintenance men, but they served the Japanese, not her. Victoria wasn't even a servant now. Victoria was a war whore.

She hadn't known any of her servants before the war. She had never been rude to them, exactly, but as it was a large household with lots of parties and guests she had always been strict. She knew that when she told Hafiy, the head butler to deal with one of the staff he would use his cane, and she was always amused to see the maid or gardener walking awkwardly the next day.

"I see from your gait that you have learned your lesson," she would say smugly to the blushing maid or stable hand. "Let's hope that it's a not a lesson we'll need to repeat?" adding a question mark on the end to reinforce her power over them.

Victoria had never thought of her punishments as being unjust and had supposed that such discipline was necessary for running a large mansion. The Japanese maintained the tradition, although she did note that they used it far less than Victoria did. Their fearsome reputation was enough to keep the natives in line.

Victoria blushed the first time one of the maids saw her exiting a bedroom where she had just served a soldier. Victoria knew that some of the British officers sometimes took advantage of her maids, and why she didn't approve of it she simply dismissed it without comment as a byproduct of colonial rule. When she saw the smiles on the faces of her former servants she knew the worm had turned, and the women were delighted to see Victoria and her hoity friends suddenly forced to serve masters they could not refuse.

Whenever Hafiy caned her the other servants would gather to watch. Their laughter and taunts burned her more than the cane. Victoria had only been in the servant's quarters once or twice before the war. Now she was there at least once a week, watching as one of her whore friends was punished for some "infraction."

Although she was never given a title it was understood by everyone in the brothel that Victoria was the girl's leader. She coached them, comforted them, and represented their interests as best as she could to her superiors. She had been a virgin, but she was smart and learned quickly. It was Victoria who told the other girls how to wrap their legs around the men, how to make noise to encourage them to come, how to have the condom ready before the man even pulled down his pants, and how to clean themselves quickly for the next customer. Speed was essential. Most days Victoria wore simply a garter belt, or a white slip she could pull of easily, or towards the end of the war, nothing at all. Most of the men didn't even bother to take their pants or shoes off.

Victoria told her friends they were prisoners of war, and they were fortunate to be given jobs that gave them a decent bed and food. By serving the Japanese officers in the brothel they were making them drunk and weak and easier to beat and every hour they spent on top of a British girl was an hour they were not able to murder innocent British soldiers.

As War Whores they had a duty to do and as members of the British Empire it was their job to do it to their upmost. She said the girls needed to show the enemy what British girls were made of. Victoria knew that part of her devotion to duty was simple pride: If Victoria was going to be a whore, she was going to be the best whore she could be.

Victoria told the girls that by doing their jobs well and pleasing the officers they would earn their respect, and maybe even their affection. Perhaps as the war progressed they might even be able to intercept and pass on information. It never happened, for there was never anyone to pass any information to. The natives hated the British women too much to help them.

Victoria had assumed she would be given to the Island's new military governor, but he never visited the "Officers Club" except for brief appearances at official events like the parties the officers gave each other when one of them was promoted. She was an English whore, and beneath him.

The Governor's wife and her friends regarded Victoria and the other English girls with unabashed hatred. The "moral cleanups" where the local prostitutes were whipped were suspended for the local girls, but they remained in full force for the British comfort girls. Once every three or four months one or more of them were paddled or strapped or caned in the town square, with all the locals watching. When her turn came Victoria never paid much attention to the locals. Her eyes were always on the Japanese on the balcony where the Governor's wife and her female friends laughed and tittered and pointed as Victoria's bare bottom was strapped and paddled.

Since the new Governor couldn't be bothered with her Victoria lost her virginity to a fat pig of a Japanese officer who didn't even appreciate the gift of her lovely blonde flower. The officers were not polite, but a few weeks later they were sent to the barracks of the enlisted men, who piled on the girls four or five at a time.

A few weeks later the girl's "cliental" expanded further to include the servants who worked at the mansion. Her servants. Victoria told the girls that the locals were no different than the Japanese, and were entitled to the same high standards of service. But inside her heart sank. Her servants were free to fuck her, and fuck her they did.

"I polish your silver, Miss Victoria. Now you polish my knob."

"You whip my ass for sleeping? Remember? Bend over, whore." SPANK! SPANK! SPANK!

It was only when she had to wrap her legs around the filthy and stinking stable hands that the full humiliation of her situation really sank in. But Victoria quickly found a way to turn it to her advantage. Victoria quickly realized that the men WANTED to humiliate her, and reveled in her debasement. The more disgraced she was, the more nauseated she looked as they ordered her to her knees or bent her over or climbed on top of her, the more they liked it.

Wanting them to come as fast as possible, Victoria played to their desire to debase her.

"I'm sorry, sir. I know you mucked my stables...but I never knew your name, sir", she'd say meekly.

"My name Ruwan."

"Thank you, sir. Thank you Mr. Ruwan. I'm sorry I didn't learn your name, sir. There were so many of you and... I won't forget your name again, sir. How may I...pleasure you?" she would ask, looking down and blushing. "I will... I must do anything you say."

"Suck suck."

Victoria would drop to her knees and with great reluctance unzip the man's trousers. She didn't have to pretend to be revolved, for the servants seldom bathed and the smell of whatever menial tasks they were assigned to do was still on them. In Ruwan's case the smell from the horse dung on his boots made her want to gag.

Taking his penis in her hands, she would look up at her Asian master with pleading eyes. "Please, Mister Ruwan. You know me! I am...I was... I am the Governor's daughter. Please don't make me do this!"

Victoria would look up at them with tears in her eyes, letting them men revel in their absolute power over the beautiful blonde ice princess who had once been untouchable. In most cases it only took a few good sucks to get them to spurt their disgusting loads into her mouth.

Prudence and Jane and a few of the other girls didn't agree with Victoria's strategy. "If we make them come quickly there will be that many more of them fucking us," they protested. So Victoria discretely suggested to one of the Japanese officers that it might make the girls work harder if they could turn extra tickets in for extra rations. The suggestion was adopted, and soon each of the proud-but-hungry English woman were fucking non-stop.

Adjusting her hat, Victoria strolled across the crowded square to the millinery shop. There hadn't been many hats during the war, and Victoria was one of the few women on the island who could afford a new hat now. All of the British prostitutes left the island after liberation; in light of their ordeal their husband's requests for other stations were always granted. Even her friends who had fled before the occupation didn't wish to return. Victoria alone remained, although a few of the new officers had brought their wives. They were chatty, status conscious, and blissfully unaware, like Victoria had once been. Lucky girls.

The women had heard stories, of course. Victoria never spoke of what happened to her, but everyone KNEW. Victoria liked the power it gave her over the other women, most of whom had spent the war on some dreary military base or toiling in a factory. Once again Victoria was their leader.

The millinery shop now did clothing repairs and sold bits of fabrics to the natives. But times would change now that the war was over and they would be selling hats soon. Victoria made her way to the shop, ignoring the glares from the women and the smiles of the local men. Before the war she had hardly known any of the men. Now she knew every man she passed.

Victoria brushed past Mister Sim, who used the occasion to give her bottom a gentle squeeze. Mister Sim was circumcised, and preferred oral followed by anal. He was fast and brutal, and always made sure Victoria knew she was his whore.

Mister Kim was to her left. He worked at the Ministry and had always been polite to her before the war. Victoria was surprised when he had brought her the school uniform and told her to put it on. The Japanese charged him three tickets to give her six strokes of the cane, so he could only afford to "visit" her once a month.

Mister Dopo liked to sniff her feet. Mr. Waku had an average sized cock and liked to fuck her up against the wall.

She knew every man she passed. And they all smiled when they saw her, for they knew her. Intimately.

Sing had still been in school when Victoria had visited his class to lecture him about colonial government. He had been polite and humble that day, the model pupil, eager to learn. Victoria had been his 18th birthday present, and for his party he and six of his school buddies had fucked her, one after another. Victoria had once been his teacher. But Sing was the master now.

Victoria had not known these men before but now she would never forget them. Each passing face brought a fresh surge of humiliation to her blushing face as did the sly whispers as soon as her back was turned.

"Whore!"

"Cock sucker!"

"Strumpet."

Victoria reached for the door of the shop. It was locked. She tried again. It was locked. She peered through the window. There were other women in the small store, looking at the fabric, discussing repairs, and shopping. Why was the door locked?

Through the shop window Mrs. Song glared back at Victoria. "No whore store! Go away. No whore. This decent shop! You stink of whore juice. No whore!"

"Is there a problem, Miss?"

Victoria turned and to her surprise she saw the young Lieutenant standing behind her: tall, handsome, and eager to help.

"If you need to get in..." he said clearly embarrassed by what he had heard.

"No, my mistake. I actually need to go to the police station."

"Are you sure, Miss? Because I can..."

"No, Lieutenant. I don't require your assistance, but I do need to go to the police station right away. Please do as your told."

"Miss? There's something on your back. I didn't want to say anything but it's stuck there and..."

Victoria reached back but it was finally the sheepish Lieutenant that pulled it off. Someone had stuck a pink ticket to her back. The Lieutenant knew what it was but was too embarrassed to speak. For an instant Victoria considered bursting into tears as she ripped the ticket up, but there were too many people watching for that. No, she wasn't going to let them break her.

Victoria dropped the ticket into her purse and began walking.

It was different traveling with the Lieutenant at her side. There were still the glares and leers, but the rude remarks were never in English. Victoria wished he wasn't there, as she preferred humiliating honesty to the stifling hypocritical deference of colonialism.

To the Lieutenant's surprise Victoria walked past the station by the Hall of Justice and continued several blocks south to the smaller station. It was a seedier side of town and although the armed Lieutenant did not feel unsafe he was puzzled at what business the Governor's daughter needed to conduct at this particular police station, bordered by the city's docks, warehouses, and saloons.

Victoria had seldom seen the area before the war, but now she knew it well. After the enlisted men had had their fill of the British captives the officer in charge had transferred the girls to the red light district, splitting them up and alternating them between the brothels and pimps in a continuous rotation. With her pretty face and blonde pussy Victoria had been a popular "window girl".

Victoria turned and walked down the street, stopping at one of the brothel windows. The prostitute in the window was naked, of course, and she was kneeling on the ground. Victoria looked at her critically; when Victoria had kneeled in that same window a few weeks before she had kept her legs spread wide, and had played with her pussy to entice the men to come inside.

"Is everything all right, Miss?" the Lieutenant asked.

What a stupid question! Of course it wasn't all right. Nothing was "all right." Victoria turned and walked on, not bothering to respond.

The Lieutenant tried to accompany Victoria into the police station but Victoria was adamant and ordered him to wait in the front lobby for her. "It's a police station, after all. If I'm not safe here the British Army isn't doing a very good job, is it? " Unconvinced but unwilling to fight with the strong-willed young woman the young Lieutenant took a seat in the lobby.

Victoria showed the front desk clerk her letter. He smiled and directed her downstairs. Victoria knew the way.

Victoria recognized the fat desk jockey behind the counter. Sergeant Sia always seemed to be on duty.

"Excuse me, Sergeant, but I seemed to have received this letter in error. It says I need to come in for a medical examination. However as you know I am no longer employed as a ... er...that is to say, I am no longer working in that capacity."