-1THE CORPSE PROSTITUTE

By: Serenity Hutchinson

This is Hell, and yet, it is not. An introduction is required I think, this is of course, before I begin my story. My name is Michele. I have no last name, at least, none that I can remember. I lived, at one point in time, as a prostitute in the late 1800s in France. Paris, France to be exact. That was where all the action was at. I was paid by men to do services that their wives would not do. Listen to me, I am getting ahead of myself. To tell the story right, I have to start from the beginning.

I was born to a very poor family in May of 1865. I was the only girl of five children. My father and mother were not the best kind of people. My father was a fisherman and made a meager salary while my mother was a common whore and earned her living every night after we were put to bed. Once I was old enough to take care of my brothers I was expected to cook, clean, and do whatever other meager tasks that I was expected to do.

My life took a severe change when my mother forced me into prostitution. She was growing old and men were not as attracted to her as they had once been. My first time, I can still remember as if I were reliving it over. I worked at a brothel at that time and in walked an Englishman and his two French friends. His name was Robert, again I cannot remember his last name, for this I apologize. He was a very handsome man with a nasty attitude. I knew when Madame Robere took me to him that I would not have a pleasant time with him or his friends. I knew the practices of a prostitute, but never had I put them to use. At that moment I knew in my heart that I would not enjoy that night…

You ask me why I have stopped. Even though I cannot cry anymore it is difficult to talk about selling my body to a complete stranger. My body, which I should have given to a man I love, was instead my tool for income. Let me get back to my story as you probably want to know what had happened next.

That first night was unearthly. It was as if I had left my body and someone else was dancing erotically in front of these total strangers. If I could only get through this night, then I would understand what drove women to become prostitutes or high-class whores as we were often called. I recall many things about that night. Robert touching me as I bared my breasts to him, his mouth suckling at my breasts and occasionally biting as if it was some game to him, his friends holding my arms down as he thrust into my body for the first time, and I can recall more. He used protection on me, which was something that Madame Robere required. I could hear her shrill voice in my head, ‘You don’t want to become ugly with stretch marks. No man would pay squat for you then.’

I could feel myself slip in a kind of euphoria as he used my body to his will. I cried in pleasure and pain and anguish from never knowing the gentle touch of a man. Robert stayed with me as his friends left, satisfied that I would not try to get up to slip away from him. He taught me many things that night of having sexual intercourse. He did not quit playing with my body till he was fully satisfied. His mouth often was consuming a peaked nipple as he tweaked the other painfully between his thumb and forefinger. I thought it was Hell and Heaven at the same time. Once he was happily fulfilled with playing with my breasts he moved further south. His fingers parting my folds and I screamed as he did so. He stroked my bud and I can remember an earth-shattering sensation fall over me. His voice taunted me, “Beg for me.” I did, oh how I did. He continued, making me feel every bit like the whore I was. What was the matter with me? I asked myself that a million times as he used me to fulfill his need. I was his whore for the night and he expected a top notch performance, at least that was what I was told.

He left me the following morning with 500 francs in my pocket. 200 went to Madame Robere for my weekly housing and repayment of her teachings. The rest I either saved or sent to my family during hard times. It was a difficult time, that first time, and it showed me what it meant to be a prostitute. I hated it, I loved it, but I never could draw myself away from the exciting life of prostitution. My mother had started me on the same path that she had taken and I was to never go off of it. Even though I wanted to at times.

Robert returned several times after his initial visit, only wanting to see me and Madame Robere gracefully obliged me to him. I despised him during many of my sessions with him. His attitude drove me nearly to the point of insanity. I did not tell him that, though I am sure he sensed it. That is why he kept wanting me, in my opinion, was to drive me to wanting him at all times. He never understood that I was not a one-man woman. I was a prostitute and I had several other men who I pleasured.

Many of my clients were young and inexperienced. I was their first experience in the world of sexuality. Of course, I was assigned these boys when I was much more practiced in pleasing men. Where was I? Oh do forgive me, I get off tangent at times. Back to Robert and his obsession.

Robert was obsessed with me. I could tell he was. It wasn’t vanity that drove me to think this. No, it was something else that told me this. It was in the way he told me that I belonged to him when he was in the midst of spilling his seed in me. I tried to be polite at first, murmuring that I belonged to him in the brothel, but he would not have it. I often tried to tell Madame Robere but she would dismiss it with a, “It is only his way of saying thank you.”

I was nervous to tell the truth. I was very nervous that he might try to steal me away for himself. I knew though, that he could never do that. We had plenty of guards at the brothel and no one ever got past them with a prostitute. My mind told me that no matter how many times Robert saw me, his lust would not lessen.

My nights with Robert were spent exploring all types of sexual positions. We explored his fantasies which ranged from having me act as a harem girl to a wench on a pirate ship. He had a very intense mind and often used it to my disadvantage. After all, I was a woman of the night and I had to give him pleasure. There were times when I could not bear to bed with him. He was quite ignorant in the fact that I did not like it at all.

Did Robert ever leave the brothel? Yes. In fact one night after we had an intense round of sex he murmured, “I’m leaving for England tomorrow.” That was all that he mentioned. I was glad despite the fact that I told him that I was sad he was leaving. He gave me a wad of francs then I performed the nightly ritual of stripping the bed and giving one-third of my money to Madame Robere.

After Robert left, he would return, however, I would not know that till later on. I continued to work as a prostitute in Madame Robere’s brothel. However, my life would turn worse before the man who was obsessed with me returned.

I went home on occasion. I had to sleep during the day, but I needed to see my mother and father and brothers. My mother was gaining in years as was my father. He despised me, told me that I was dirt and should have never come back to them when I did. I still gave them some money even though my father’s words cut me deep. My father and I often had confrontations and they led to him slapping me so hard that I would get bruises. He would then haul me out on the street where I would see the door slamming in my face.

I hated my father. I hated him more than anything, but he saw me as trash and I would not be treated in such a way. I would not let my father treat me the way he had treated my mother. I would not be treated as an insignificant speck of dirt. My pride was on the line in many cases.

You wonder what happened of my relationship. I will tell you. One day I went back to give my father and mother some money for clothing and other needs. When I arrived my father took the money and told me that I was cut off from the family, that I should never show my face on their doorstep again. I was filled with so much rage that I cursed at my mother and father. I cursed at my mother for making me take a path in life that I never should have gone down. I then told my father that he could keep the money and that I never wanted to see his drunken face again. This incident occurred a few months after Robert left. I did as my father told me to and I never went back.

For many days afterwards I cried and I realized something. I realized that no matter how much I wanted to be different, I could never change. I was born to be a prostitute. My mother had made sure of that. I went on afterwards realizing that I could make my life as good or as bad as I wanted it.

After a week of feeling sorry for myself, I thrust myself into pleasing as many clients as possible. Some were young, others old, but they all wanted one thing…pleasure and sex. I would give it to them at the price that would support me in a comfortable way. I often participated in group activities, especially on important or special occasions. When I did, I felt important myself. I would either be squeezed between two groping men or be one of two or three women pleasing a man. Either way, it made me feel powerful.

You have an erection I see. Shall I describe one of these occasions to you monsieur? Very well, I shall since you are so speechless. Let me continue and I shall tell you about one such occasion.

Madame Robere came to me one night saying, “Get up lazy bones. We have a party of young men tonight and you will be perfect to please them.” I was going to ask her if I was to have help but she knew my thoughts and said, “You will have assistance, but I have promised you to two gentlemen who happen to be interested in only black-haired girls. Seeing as you are one of the few of my black-haired girls, you are going to them. Now put on something appropriate.”

By appropriate Madame Robere meant sexy and skimpy. I knew that I would end up having another interesting night at the brothel. I only hoped that these gentlemen were well groomed. I have had the unfortunate experience of servicing some not too delightful men. After I dressed, I found Madame Robere and the party of young men. She was introducing other girls to the party of ten as I stepped beside her. “Ahh Michele,” she said as she grabbed my arm and thrust me towards two young men who were in fine attire. “This is Monsieur Francois and Monsieur Claude. These are the two fine young men who have requested you.”

I looked at them and flashed a sexy yet coquettish smile. I told them that I was pleased to meet them. They shifted uncomfortably, as if they had never been in a brothel before. Then Madame Robere told me, “These gentlemen have never experienced our kind of pleasure before. Give them a good time dear.”

“Would you like it private?” I asked as they looked at me nervously.

Both nodded as I took their hands and led them to a private room. It was decorated in a range of colors. There was reds, blues, and gold all throughout the room. There was a single four poster bed in the middle of the room and a few chairs and a chaise scattered throughout. I led the two to the bed and began my erotic dance.

Their eyes were on me as I slipped my dress off. First, by my straps which were dragged down my shoulders slowly. I pulled my arms out and flashed my cleavage. I could tell that they were starting to loosen up and I murmured, “Don’t you want to help?” It was an invitation for them to help me get out of my clothes and for them to become wilder in the bedroom. I could tell they were slightly uneasy with the thought of having a prostitute in bed. I slid between the two and watched as Claude, a fairly handsome man with blonde hair, began to slide his fingers over my shoulders. I thrust my chest forward, wanting more than that simple contact.

“Come now dears. You are not being watched. Fulfill your inner most fantasies tonight with me.” I invited. I finally caught their attention and Claude pulled my dress down my body in one quick motion. I could hear their breathing, they sounded as if they were going to have an attack of some sort. I felt Francois, another handsome man with long auburn hair, stroke my hair. They became obsessed with me and I went along for the ride.

My body was theirs that night. I allowed them to do whatever their hearts desired. I was pressed between them as their hands roamed my naked flesh in attempt to feel the pleasure of a woman. Their mouths were hot on my skin. One set to suckling my breasts while the other made content in pressing heated kisses down my already hot skin. They had divested me of all my clothes and set to deciding who would have the pleasure in being the first one inside me that night. They were quick for novices. They wanted to know the dark pleasures of the night and I would teach them.

I did teach them excellently in my view. They both were great pupils and even better lovers. They both confessed that it had been their first time learning from a prostitute and that they were intending to get married and wanted to know how to pleasure a woman. I often was sad when my clients told me such a story, but got over it quickly. I was there to give them a desire-filled night and not let them know of my disappointment. That night I allowed them solace in my body and I allowed myself solace as well. Their bodies collided against mine and we all came in a collective orgasm, as if God meant it to be.

I earned 1000 francs that night and as I bid them a fond farewell I could not help think about my future. What would it encompass? Would I grow old like Madame Robere and start my own brothel? There were so many unknowns at the time. I had yet to understand or know that my past could and would come back to haunt me.

So why am I here like this? I know you are wondering this as I have yet to tell you how I came to be in this form. My death was violent and terrible, but let me tell you how it happened. It started when Robert came back from England. When he came he was more violent than ever.

The day I saw him come back to the brothel happened to be right after one of the Saints holidays. I forget which one. All I know is that I remember closing the brothel door then hearing his voice. Madame Robere was speaking to him in low tones trying to get him to leave since it was not yet opening time.

“Madame.” I said bravely as I walked to her in one of my finest dresses. It was sapphire colored silk which covered most of my valued assets. “Is something wrong?”

Robert’s eyes turned on me and he said, “Where have you been?”

“That is privileged information Monsieur.” I replied then tried to ask Madame Robere something else.

“Michele, do you think that you would be interested in an early opening?” She asked me.

I eyed her and tried to beg her with my eyes, but she stared back giving me a look of helplessness. “Very well.” I agreed. “It will cost more though.”

I hated Robert. He had a smug smile on his face as I took him to one of the more private rooms. No doubt he had something in mind for me, and of course, he did. “So where were you?” He asked me as I closed the door.

“Obviously you are not a Catholic. I was observing a saint’s day.” I replied to shut him up.

“I don’t particularly care for the rituals of Catholicism. It is odd though. I never imagined you as a church-goer.” He responded as he slightly laughed at me. I forced myself not to say anything and just to let him get on with what he had in mind. As I laid on the bed I recall thinking about what an unlucky hand fate had given me.

I allowed him to do what the hell he wanted to because it was my job to please him. He was particularly harsh in his ways. I was expected to obey him and I never once thought of how he could hurt me. I only tried to ignore the pain of being with him. The physical and emotional. It was after his time with me that I finally knew of his intentions. “You are coming with me.”

“I beg your pardon.” I asked as I blinked my eyes open in surprise.

“You heard me. You are the right prostitute for me. I’ll take you to England and make you my mistress.”

“You do not know what you are saying. Besides, I will never go with you.”

“You will if you know what is good for you. “ He paused then buttoned his pants and straightened his suit as he got up. “You are coming with me tonight after I request you.” He left me then and I waited nervously from there on out.

I tried to tell Madame Robere my concerns, but she shoved them away and told me that I was a fool to believe him. I was angry then, because I knew that I was in danger and no one would believe me. Who would believe the word of a prostitute? So I angrily waited for Robert to come back. I was prepared. I hid a knife in my dress and I prayed to God that he would give me the strength to fight off Robert if I had to.

As night settled in I waited patiently as he and his French friends came in to steal me away. He requested me again as he said he would and I went with him. It would be the last time I saw Madame Robere alive. I took him to one of the back rooms that led to the outside of the brothel and he finally said, “You are coming with me.”

“No. I belong here.” I told him bravely.

“Do not make me hurt you Michele.” He threatened me. That was the first time I heard my name from his lips.

I pulled out my knife and pointed it at him, “I am no fool Monsieur. Leave now.”

He chuckled as I tried to stab at him, just to get him away from me. He caught my hand and we began wrestling. I ended kicking him and he pinned me to the bed as we continued wrestling. “Know your place whore!” He shouted at me.

“No!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. His hands closed around my throat and I was suffocating. My vision became blurry and slowly everything began to go black. I lost control of my body, I could no longer seem to get the strength to scratch at him. It was then that I died. I died…

So what happened then? Why am I here in this purgatory? I died too soon. The bastard left me for death and death claimed me. However, I could not go to the light as they say. I never got the chance for my revenge. Why then are you listening to my story? It is simple my friend, I must live through someone mustn’t I? At least once a year I must taste the glory of old and you are my pick. You know what they say, old habits die hard. But don’t worry, I will make your death sweet and you won’t stay in the purgatory I am in.

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