Whatever It Takes Pt. 04

He continued, "Michael and the others use sex and drug entrapments that enable me to offer my clientele some diversity - namely white amateur whores from the U.S. and Europe who are working out of a debt they owe me by selling their bodies. This provides a real treat for my Jamaican customers and variety for the tourists from the boats and hotels who would otherwise tire of a stable of the same old professional whores.

In addition - you will appreciate this as a banker - it keeps my cost of goods low so I can be more than price competitive with my competitors. I must split the take with the professional whores but talent like you draw down no cash only generate it. You are a great business case - all revenue and almost zero cost. Plus the cash I get up front - in your case the $15,000 - provides the working capital for the business and to recruit replacements when the talent earns their way out of here which you will do, carrying your precious tapes and photos with you."

Somehow the first bourbon was gone. He poured another. I accepted it - as much to calm my nerves at this unexpected turn of events. The alcohol seemed to have no effect. The adrenalin surge racing through my body seemed to offset the common "downer" effect of alcohol.

I shouted at him, "My husband will find me. He will know something is wrong. You can not keep this up. I am not a whore. I can't do this." Then I did something that I had not done in years - I began to cry. I faced him with tears rolling down my cheeks. He stared at me for about a minute then began to speak.

"Elaine, your husband will not find you. He is not a native on this island. He can not function out side of Montego Bay. In fact, there is no reason for him to even look for you provided that you finish your work here - all $10,000 of the required credits - by late afternoon Friday so that you will be at the hotel when he gets back. That gives you tonight Tuesday and all day Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday to complete our transaction and get out of here and live the remainder of your life as if nothing ever happened here but sun, sand, and sea.

Second, tears mean nothing here. Stop crying and begin to focus. Whores do not cry!"

"I am not a whore! You are crazy. None of this makes sense."

"Elaine, all women have a bit of whore in them, fantasies of group sex or sex with a stranger on an airplane. Good women with high moral standards, even wives and

mothers like yourself, have spent a few days in a whorehouse and then declined to leave. They liked the life. They chose to stay. They realized that they are born whores. I give them the opportunity to find out, to get in touch with their true sensual nature. Who knows? You may enjoy it here and wish to remain."

As he continued, I got the impression that this was a speech he gave many times, It sounded rehearsed rather than spontaneous, and he communicated boredom not interest. I wondered how many women like myself had sat across this desk and heard him pontificate.

I interrupted. "This is insane. Things like this do not happen except in the movies."

He looked aggrieved that I could not understand. His tone was as if speaking to a child. "They do happen. It is happening to you now."

"Please, why are you doing this?"

"For me, it is a business, a very lucrative business. You are inventory, perishable inventory that has a high short term value. In addition, I enjoy humbling you white 'professional women' from Europe and North America. You come down here, run around practically naked, and react with anger if the black men on this island so much as look at you. More importantly, you have money, and we have none. What I do transfers money from you to us while making you more humble and less proud."

"Why me?" I asked, almost of myself or the fates as him.

"Because you are beautiful, available, and dumb enough to be seduced and put your whole life at risk." His words hurt because in a twisted way I knew he was right - I got myself into this and had to get myself out. He continued, "From my perspective, this is a teachable moment, and I am the teacher. You are lucky it is only $25,000 for this will be the experience of a lifetime for you."

He then reached in to his desk and pulled out a video disk. "Elaine, when I saw this, I knew you would be perfect."

He walked across the room to a small TV with a build in disc player. He popped the tape in and fast forwarded it until he got what he wanted. Then he stepped aside and came back to the desk.

On the screen, I saw Paul and I having sex Sunday night on the beach. I was on my back, heaving up at him. The security camera must have had a zoom lens that allowed a security man focused in on us. The resolution was grainy, but you could tell it was me - legs around Paul, breasts exposed, hips meeting him thrust for thrust, my mouth open gasping for air, and the two of us climaxing at the same time. I felt even more violated than when I saw the tape Michael made.

"Elaine, this is the part I like." The tape showed what my husband never saw - my wrist lifted from my husband's back so I could check the time with a bored expression on my face.

"Elaine, you are a natural whore. You didn't want to be there, having sex on the beach. But you did it anyway, and he never knew the difference. He thought you were enjoying it just as he was. But in your mind, you were somewhere else - just like the typical whore playing a wanton role for cash."

I must have looked lost. "Elaine, you will get through this. In fact, your husband should thank me for giving you the opportunity to learn more about sex. You are maybe 30 years old and married. Like every married couple, sex is getting boring - missionary position, slam-bam-thank you ma'am. Here you will be educated - sex on your back, on you stomach, and - he smiled -on your knees. Simultaneous sex with one man, two men, three men. Positions you have only read about. You will be enlightened when you leave here, and your husband will be a much happier man. For sure, you won't be boring any more. Think of this experience as a graduate degree in sex education."

I shouted at him, "My husband does not think I am boring." I said it with more confidence than I felt because I too had been thinking that Paul and I were having sex less often, less enthusiastically, and less creatively. Making love on the beach Sunday night was probably the most spontaneous we had been since before I got pregnant. Even then, it was spoiled when Paul tried anal sex, and I shut him down.

He continued on in the same lecturing voice. "Elaine, in ancient Babylon every woman had to spend a few days in the temple brothel before marriage. There were no exceptions. Any man could buy her. The lowest citizen could use the body of a princess if he had the money to buy her. A very functional arrangement, don't you think. The temple received an assured cash flow, the general male population was content, the girls learned how to please their future husbands, and the husbands received from the temple a trained wife. There is no record of permanent damage to the women who passed through the temple. If anything, the women learned valuable lessons about themselves and about pleasing men."

"Patrick, if that is your real name, you are certifiably insane."

He laughed and went right on with his lesson. "Let me share two other stories from history. Boudicca was a queen of the Celts when the Romans arrived in Britain. To break her will, the Romans publicly flogged her and then in front of her and a crowd gang raped her daughters. In response, she led a rebellion that sacked most of the Roman cities including what is now London. The Celts killed the Roman males but Boudicca kept the Roman women, especially those of the upper class, in brothels. These Roman women then had to fuck to survive. Any male Celt could have any woman he chose or a group of Celts could take turns with a high born Roman woman. In return these Roman women got enough food to sustain life. It took the Romans six months to regain control and free their women. History records that those women - at least those that survived - were no worse for the experience and went on to assist to Romanize Britain. It was a mere episode, a 'learning experience' you might say.

By the way, do not think that this was confined to ancient peoples. In World War II the Japanese created 'comfort women,' that is whores that serviced the Japanese troops and civilian contractors all over Asia. The Japanese conscripted into service the women of the territories they invaded. Generally these were Koreans, Chinese, Filipina, Taiwanese, etc., but in Indonesia which had a large white Dutch population, they took Dutch girls and women between 18 and 25 from the internment camps and placed them in whorehouses at Semarang, Bandung, and Palembang. Some volunteered for the food or to protect their young daughters or sisters, but many were simply kidnapped, raped, and forced to have months of sex with their Japanese conquerors. Most of these women were not much different than you Elaine - young, pretty, well educated, pampered, and protected. Think of the thrill for those Japanese men - young white women trading use of their bodies for food and survival.

The period of service for the Dutch girls were two months to almost two years. The average was 50 men fucked per week. Ten of the Dutch women on Flores Island set the endurance record with a daily quota of 20 enlisted men in the morning, two non-commissioned officers in the afternoon, and senior officers at night working six days per week - that totals maybe 150 sexual encounters per week for a year...a total of 7,500 sex acts in that year! Those Dutch women also survived, went back to their families, and continued on with their lives - just like I expect you will do."

"Patrick, you are nothing but a pimp" I said. "A slimy, disgusting pimp!"

"And you are my whore so if I am 'slimy' and 'disgusting', then what are you?" he asked. Then he continued without an answer. "Here is the deal. You give me the $15,000 cash and work as a sex worker here until you accumulate $10,000 in work credits. At that time I will turn over to you the tapes, photos, and negatives. If you decline the offer, I will return you to your hotel, and the photos will be emailed to your employer and your friends, as well as put on the Internet with your name, address, and employer. In addition, the tape will be reproduced and sold on the island and probably into the New York City market as well."

"Elaine, let me summarize. One, you created the problem. Two, we just negotiated a solution to that problem. The solution is that you will prostitute yourself to make up the difference between the cash and the price to which you agreed. Three, to fulfill your end of the agreement, you will solicit men enthusiastically to have sex with you for money. If you have sex at a rapid rate and enthusiastically earn your way out of the problem you created for yourself then, with luck, Paul will never find out and this will be a learning experience. That is the deal. It is my way or the end of your life as you know it. Are you in or out?"

In terms of cold logic, I had to avoid an outcome that would destroy my life - distribution of the photos and tapes would do that. If I said yes to this "deal", then I would buy time to have the situation change in my favor. Therefore, I had no choice.

"Yes. You can have what you want." In my own mind, I did not believe any of this. I agreed only in order to stall for time until I could figure out how to get out of here without destroying the life that I had carefully created back in New York.

"That sounds indecisive. The deal on the table is that you will work as a whore in this establishment, obeying the work rules, doing the job, until you have earned $10,000 in credits. Once you have done so, you are free to go with the photos and tapes that Michael had made. Is that your understanding of what you have agreed to do?"

"Yes," I shouted, "I will work here to earn the difference between your price and the cash I have with me." I nearly vomited when I heard my own words, but I could see no other option available to me. I had to buy time any way possible to avoid a disaster of an outcome to these negotiations.

"Elaine, congratulations, you are now a whore - something that should be easy for a Yankee banker. Just so you understand, earning $10,000 in credits will probably require that you provide sexual services to between 60 and 70 of our clients over the next three-and-a-half-days. Think of your time here as equivalent to sequential 'hooking up' like you did in college, except the hook up is for an average of 15 minutes, repeated two or three times a working hour.

By the way, please be assured that security is very strict in our establishment. We will watch over you to ensure that no one would hurt or abuse you. You see that big breasted Yankee blondes generate a demand that exceeds supply, and you could get battered in the process of satisfying the excess demand. We will ensure that you are not too popular. After all, remember what happened to those French woman that got kidnapped in Kingston - they say they satisfied in one way or another an average five men an hour for two days...each took on a hundred men. They were each just sperm banks taking collections in their mouths, cunts, and assholes." he said to both inform and scare me.

He then reached into his desk and pulled out a single sheet of paper. He turned it toward me. "Like all well run businesses we need a contract with each subcontractor. Sign this!"

The "contract" was simple and straight forward. It shocked me to realize that it had been prepared in advance on the assumption that I had no choice but to comply with Patrick's demands.

I, Elaine Farrell, do hereby agree to perform as a sex worker for Island Holdings, Ltd., for the period necessary to accumulate $10,000 (U.S.) in credits. Such credits are to be calculated according to the normal and customary manner by which such credits are calculated for other subcontractors of Island Holdings, Ltd., performing similar duties. The place of employment will be any facility operated by Island Holdings, Ltd., on the island of Jamaica. Upon accumulation of $10,000 (U.S.) in credits, I agree that I will be compensated according to a separate agreement that has been negotiated with Island Holdings, Inc. I agree to carry out my assigned duties to the best of my ability, and I further agree to be subjected to the rules, regulations, and discipline normally applied to someone in this position. Parties to this contract agree that the existence of this contract will be maintained as confidential for a period of ten years.

There were three signature blocks, one for Patrick (already signed, one blank with my name typed below, and one for a witness. Reluctantly, I signed. Patrick never said a work, just watched with that cold, lifeless smile of his.

"You are very lucky that I am tolerant and understand how an investment banker does not immediately recognize the true nature of her calling to be a whore. Keep in mind that I could have placed you in a buck-a-fuck crib in the slums. You would turn fifty tricks in a night and be ripped apart in the process. Here we have a high class clientele - embassy staffs, local businessmen, tourists from the cruise ships and hotels, airline pilots - a class operation. You have been placed in a quality house. At The Dolls' House there will be no brutality or extreme perversion. Ordinary copulation, oral sex, a bit of anal sex, but nothing beyond that unless you of your own free will decide to accelerate your credits by engaging in group sex, bondage, or sadomasochistic practices. You may want to expand to out of the ordinary sexual activities to expand the range of your experiences - perhaps the knowledge will allow you to service your husband more effectively and imaginatively."

I tried to interrupt him, but he kept on with his monologue.

"By the way, during the evening peak time, we have on security person on each floor. In addition we have Randy and other security personnel on premise at all time. We even have maids who clean your room and put clean sheets on the bed after you finish with each trick. You never have to clean up the mess of bodily fluids that your date and you generate.'

Continuing without let up, he then added some information of interest when he said, "By the way, there are two others like you working with us currently. One is a professor and the other a TV personality. Perhaps you can work with them and organize some kind of group activity for our clients."

Finally, finished with his monologue, he looked at me and said, "Now turn over the $15,000. No receipt. You can trust me."

I had no choice so I handed him the envelope containing the $15,000. Now I was ready to get down to the detailed instructions on how I would work my way out of debt.

TUESDAY - TIME TO START MY NEW GIG

There was a knock at the door and in walked a young woman of perhaps 28 or 30 years of age - very pretty and dressed in a tie-front sheer mesh top with short shorts. I noticed her breasts were loose and her nipples visible. Without a word, she reached for the contract and signed as the witness. I sensed that she had served as the "witness" on other occasions with other victims like myself.

"Jessie, please explain how things operate and what we expect." Turning to me, he said, "Elaine, I have to go to a business meeting. I suggest you listen to Jessie very carefully. She knows what to do, how to do it, and gets the job done without any hassles." Then he walked out of the room and left us together, the mentor and the 'new hire.'

She introduced herself as Jessie McKinnon from New Jersey. She launched into a monologue that seemed rehearsed. "Elaine, you are now a whore, don't even doubt that for a minute. The nickname you and the others like you have is 'workout girl.' That means that you owe Patrick or one of his associates a debt and have chosen to use sex to buy your way out."

"I didn't 'choose' anything. I was trapped and brought here against my will. I have no intention of going through with this. I have a husband and a baby daughter, and I don't belong here."

Stating the obvious with some relish, she said, "You are here though." She said it with a brief, malicious smile.

"I told you I was entrapped and brought here."

"Relax. It is only for a couple of days and nights," she said with an emphasis on the evening hours.

"You know what is going on?" I asked.

"Sure. It isn't a secret with us or with our clientele. Patrick always has two or three 'decent' women here, some for a night, some for a week, some for a month." The word "decent" was ironically emphasized. "Don't make such a fuss. You won't be doing anything that you haven't done before."

"I am not a slut, a whore."

"Well, you certainly are Miss Pure," Jessie said dryly. "I can see why Patrick wanted to soil you a little. You'll learn something about the real world over the next several days."

"Not the world, your world."

"Your world and my world aren't so far apart - maybe a taxi ride in New York and here only a couple of doors apart upstairs," she said with obvious relish. "All of Patrick's stable of workout girls are pure and decent. We originally resented the workout girls since they take revenue from us, the professionals. But Patrick was careful to ensure that our incomes were maintained and that the workout girls available never exceeded two or three at any time. In fact, we real whores enjoy how amateurish you workout girls are - sort of like comedy relief. It is a real kick to see you professional women fuck and suck to preserve your precious, rich lives."