Dennis, the random little whore from Prey (If youve read it; you certainly dont have to)
My turn in the lounge room had come again, I saw on the schedule tacked to my door. The lounges were safer than the assignments at the clients houses; the bouncers would make sure that I wasnt hurt too badly and I got to keep my clothes on most of the time. I could still remember the Dennis that didnt even think of the little scraps of silk and lace as underwear, but he was long gone. Even the face wasnt so much Dennis any longer, not when the mascara thickened my eyelashes and the coppery golden hair had grown long enough to rest on my shoulders.
I left my room. When I had first begun here, I shared one with a dozen or so young men like myself. Some of us turned dull-eyed and listless and disappeared sooner or later. I didnt know where. I was afraid that it was worse, whatever it was. I was glad to have those few hours between two in the morning and four in the afternoon to myself.
The old ones washed every square inch of me while they gossiped. I let the talk flow over me. The Dennis bothered by the theft of body hair and the enemas and the makeup was long gone. One day, I would be one of them, washing hair and putting on the makeup for a pretty young thing like I was now. Dennis couldnt bear to think of himself as pretty. Dennis couldnt survive.
When they finished with me, I looked like a tender little virgin lost in a whorehouse. In the mirror, my brown eyes looked huge and innocent as the proverbial doe. They only added a slight gloss to my lips, which were already full and pink, which Id learned to pout with. All I wore was a tiny pair of white cotton briefs and a white button-up shirt far too large for me.
They shooed me toward the lounge and I felt a surprising stab of vulnerability without shoes. I had worn far less in this den of iniquity. Last Christmas, I had worn only a red ribbon wound around my brick and between my buttocks and a tiny pair of bells clipped to my nipples and a pair of bright red stilettos. For St. Valentines, Id worn a concoction of red and pink and white silk and lace and ribbon and a pair of slippers to match.
For a moment, I remembered being Dennis, who waited eagerly for snow to melt and let him run about barefoot in the spring, but I pushed the memory away. That Dennis couldnt survive here.
They will eat you alive, the hostess said approvingly, glancing me up and down. Mistress liked girls, and her favorites got all the cushy jobs. The hostess wore a leather harness, true, but it didnt leave much room for hands to wander in. Id be surprised if I still had my underwear at the end of the night. Id be surprised if all the buttons were still on the blouse.
Theres a new member sitting in thirteen, the hostess murmured, see if he wants you.
As I made my way across the floor, I was mostly ignored in favor of women. I kept my eyes to the ground, to avoid getting my feet stepped on, and because eye contact was an invitation for groping. I stopped at booth number thirteen and swept my eyelashes up to the patron.
He was dark brown, almost black, and only the force of habit kept me saying the right words through my astonishment.
Is there anything I can get you, sir? I asked in a voice that quavered from surprise, but that was alright. I was supposed to be the nervous innocent out of his depth.
I had thought that all of the men with the money to visit St. Gregorys were white. He smiled, amused, as though he knew the thoughts in my head. I stared at the brightness of his teeth inside the dark skin. He had brown eyes, eyes that would have been dark in my head but looked light in his. His bald head caught the low golden light and gleamed.
Ill bet you havent seen someone like me in here before, he said in a low, deep voice that sent shivers down my spine.
Not as a patron, sir, I confirmed.
Let me have a look at you, he said, sliding around to the end of the booths cushions. I stepped up between his legs, letting my knees press into the wooden end of the booths bench. I felt even more petite as I looked at the broadness of his shoulders, the thickness of his limbs. He could break me over his knee if he liked.
He smoothed his fingers over my eyelids and lips and cheeks and smiled one of those smiles made radiant just by contrast. Hardly any makeup, he said, Cant abide the stuff.
He flicked open the buttons of the shirt and pushed it down to bunch in my elbows. He rolled the tiny pink nub of my nipple between a large finger and thumb and grunted approvingly at the way it tightened up.
I didnt have to fake the shocked breath when he tugged the underwear down my thighs and cupped my soft penis in his large, warm hand. Patrons usually arranged a private room for this sort of inspection. The palm of his hand looked a little paler than the rest of him, but my cock was still paler. Sweet little toy, he decided, and then added, Turn around.
I didnt have to pretend to hesitate to turn my back on him, because I was. This kind of exhibition was new to me. I did it, of course. The hesitation belonged to Dennis and he was dead.
Lift up the shirt, he said, and so I bunched the cotton into my fists and lifted it up. Now that is nice, he rumbled, running palms and fingers over its round shape.
Quite the little beauty, he decided. He pulled the underwear back up my thighs and tucked my prick into it. I didnt resist his hands when they sought to turn me again.
Im glad I please you, sir, I murmured.
The patron swept me into his lap and I suckled on the thick finger he pressed between my lips. His other hand curved around my back and stroked my thigh.
Skin like silk. His voice resonated under my chest. Going to have you all to myself.
I stroked his finger with my tongue, relieved that Id secured a client for the evening already. The hand on my thigh left and pressed the buzzer to summon a hostess to make the arrangements to have me for the evening. It lifted to stroke through my hair before settling back around my shoulders.
The patron shifted me in his arms when the hostess came, and I curled into his deep chest and listened to the steady thump of his heart instead of the numbers. That was one thing that the old ones all agreed on. Never get tied up in how much they paid for your body, because youd shatter when it was less and less.
The sudden tightening of his hands around my body jerked my attention back to their voices.
Im sorry sir, the hostess was saying, we just dont do that.
You sell them for an hour or an evening, the patron rumbled, why not the whole week?
Ill summon the Mistress, the hostess said at last, voice sounding tight and reluctant. Shed be punished for her failure to deal with the situation on her own.
They dont have anything like you where Im from, he said quietly, No one fragile survived the famines.
Where did you come from, sir? I asked.
Africa, he said, I was lucky. My father was the dictator and so we always had enough to eat because the military protected us. But he is an old man and my brother will not hold their loyalty. Best I left, I think.
I snuggled into his neck and said, Im glad you picked me, sir.
They were the kind of flattering words that clients liked to hear. Most of them liked to think that their paid companions found them desirable.
No, he said, mostly to himself, you would not have survived over there.
I fell asleep while the patron and the mistress were speaking. It wasnt that I was particularly tired, it was the steady beating of his heart and the soothing rumble of his voice under my ear.
I jerked awake again when he stood, still holding me in his arms. He let me slip to the ground, but kept an arm around me. I wrapped my fists around the middle and index fingers of the hand hanging over my chest. The top of my head didnt quite clear his shoulder. I felt insubstantial in comparison to him.
My patron had a driver for his car and sat in the back seat with me in his lap. Id been supplied with a pair of white pants and a flimsy pair of slippers to wear out of doors. It was my belly that held his attention at the moment. Hed kept the shirt open around my chest and had one hand splayed over its soft vulnerability. His skin was just a little paler under the fingernails, I noted.
Im sorry I fell asleep, sir, I said.
Its no worry, he assured me. Your manager and I came to an agreement. I paid her a large sum of money to keep you with me. If I do not return you, I shall have to pay a great deal more.
I see, I said.
And what is your name, little moon-skinned creature? he asked.
Dennis, I said because it was the only one I had.
Dennis, he repeated, fat too mundane for such an exotic creature. His thumb pressed into my navel and then he spoke again. Honey, I think I shall call you, for your hair.
As you wish, sir. Honey. It was as good a name as any for the boy that wasnt Dennis any more.
The patron swept me into a hotel room and up the stairs to a luxurious suite. He wasnt staying alone in it however. I caught a brief glimpse of another man, dark as the patron, who had a golden-haired woman in his arms before the patron took me to his bedroom.
Show me what that sweet little mouth can do, Honey, he said as he lowered his pants and sat on the bed. Its all Ive got time for before dinner.
His cock was half the way up and already looked large enough to intimidate me. I knelt between his legs, its dark, uncut head mere inches from my lips. I let it brush past my cheek and licked his balls instead, taking them into my mouth one at a time.
He groaned happily and his hand tangled into my hair. I had learned to swallow men into my throat and this was what I did with him, taking him all the way down until my lips couldnt find any more of him to swallow.
What a delightful creature you are, Honey, he panted.
I found the rhythm to breathe around him as he thrust down my throat. He finished, buried as deep into my mouth as he could get, and I whimpered at the grip he had on my hair, tears rising in my eyes. Finally, his grip slackened and he pulled back out, dangling soft and spent before my face. I licked him clean, as was my training.
The patron stood up and left, and so I went into the bathroom and cleaned my mouth of any trace of him. I rinsed my body and used the soap to get it sweet smelling. The old ones werent here, so I had to stroke my own skin and see if it were hairless enough. I licked my lips to make them shine and knelt on the bed to await his return.
I began to stroke myself languorously, just enough to be warm when the patron returned. Dennis couldnt have managed it, but Honey was sweet and wanted to please. I felt a smile curve my lips; perhaps he might let me ride him, look down on the broad expanse of his dark chest, perhaps he might clutch at my hips and leave bruises like fingerprints.
Thats quite bold youve gotten, the patron rumbled when he returned with food for me to eat. Id tilted my head up for a kiss and he didnt disappoint. I suckled his tongue into my mouth and didnt fantasize about biting down. I made hungry little noises as I explored his mouth.
Dennis is gone, I explained, Theres only your Honey now.