The Desert Rose Bordello - Printable Version
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The Desert Rose Bordello - Kat - 11-13-2014
Kismet could be patient if there was reason to be, but she could also become increasingly captivated with her customers.Such curiosity fed into insatiable demands that urged the woman to get what she wanted, spurring a more forthright angle of flirtation. But on his dime (so to speak), the shapely vixen could endure the paler figure's predatory gaze. Wasn't she just a swallow of cool water in the heart of the Mojave? All curves and lightly tanned skin, practically popping out of her dress as she was spoken to, tempting his gaze to linger where the fabric seemed to be slipping, though he could already make out the outline of two small peaks on either mound. A hand ran up her thigh, and graciously, her legs spread ever so slightly so he could feel the heat nestled between them. "I could... be persuaded." Closing her eyes, the femme's head rolled to one side so he was given her throat, where that invasive sinking of his teeth drew something of a stifled moan from Kismet. She barely noticed his hands as they found her wrists, possessively securing them so she was easier to force down into the sheets. Flickering gem stone hues, hooded with lust, seemed mesmerized by the weight he pinned her with.
Her hips writhed and pushed against Kirai's, arching her back with an affectionate sigh escaping parted lips. Kismet couldn't help herself, and squirmed ever so gently beneath his form while he furthered the stakes. Already her flesh was hot, cheeks flushed with growing arousal, and his body had successfully spread her thighs to either side so he could steal a prime position between them; still grinning, but in a way she envisioned tasting. "Just don't forget... You promised." Her voice was so soft, he could breath it in and never notice missing the words, but her narrowed stare was pleading. Despite his plans, she was asking Kirai for countless things at once without verbally acknowledging any of them. Musculature so taut to her curves, she stopped her grinding to glance down to where their bodies met, craving the sights just as much as the feelings.
"Now-" Kismet's features turned again, giving him the other side of her neck as a sign of obedience. "You can use me how you like, Daddy."
The Desert Rose Bordello - megs - 11-13-2014
Her brows climbed her forehead easily as he began to speak of what he wanted. They weren't unusual requests, the cheese was oddly specific, but everything else she heard pretty much daily. However, they weren't things that people were usually willing to pay for. She passed a hand over the bridge of her nose, a habit that sometimes occurred when she was thinking.
She had just been about to start listing some reasonable trades, when he began rummaging around in his pack. So, she remained silent, as to not interrupt. Curious to see what he could possibly have that he believed was worth so much. When the foil-wrapped confectionery was produced, Cashmere did her best to smother her surprise, but a small gasp escaped that she attempted to hide behind a cough. Hazel oculars flickered between the man and the treat a few times over. She slid a hand across the bar to reach for the log she'd been fiddling with before.
"That will get you what you want from me," the rather fickle hostess was suddenly feeling quite generous the evening. "A room for the night, and food. A woman is something you'll have to work out on your own. It's a separate..." she paused to pick up the pencil from between the pages and begin making notes in the ledger, and to try and find a suitable word. "Transaction. I guess."
She looked up from the book and caught herself staring almost longingly at the chocolate. Quickly she turned her eyes on the man. "The room has running water and a bed. I don't know if I have much in the way of cheese, but I did manage to throw together a pretty decent chili. If I say so myself."
The Desert Rose Bordello - thedarkwyrm - 11-13-2014
It was difficult to tell whether her aloof and flirtatious personality at the bar was the act, or the shifting, moaning, eager whore beneath him. Possibly both. Possibly neither. In the end, it didn't really matter. Since she wasn't his property... not yet, at least... it didn't matter whether her attentions for his pleasure were what she truly wanted or not. As long as he had her for the night, he would be content. He kissed slowly over her neck, biting into the exposed skin, slowly moving up and down the tender area.
He slid his hands down from her wrists, caressing her arms as his hands came to her dress, sliding down her body and pulling the fabric away from the soft skin. Before the world had gone to hell in a handbasket, he would have torn away the dress, or used a knife. However, rare as good cloth had become, he doubted she would let the destruction of a dress go; he didn't feel like paying extra for that simple pleasure. It came free of her finally, as easy to remove as strapless dresses usually were, and he leaned in to bite the other side of her neck.
But then he froze at her words. His eyes locked onto hers for a moment, darker and harder than they had been; a memory long-since buried had come to the fore, and, for several heartbeats, it wasn't Kismet he saw beneath him. His hands moved up to her breasts, squeezing them firmly, almost roughly, his fingers pinching her nipples as he bit her neck, harder than before. He knew exactly what he was doing, now. With motions honed over hundreds upon hundreds of practices, he hurt her just enough to put a sharp edge on the pleasure of his touches, spending a good few minutes in this intimately painful foreplay.
Eventually, though, his hands moved down her body, fingertips hooking under her the waistband of her lacy undergarments and sliding them down off her legs, tossing them aside and then unfastening his own pants. He pushed them off with his boxers in one smooth motion, kicking them away as he moved back in, his hands running along Kismet's legs, spreading her wide as he pressed against her. His long, hard cock rubbed against her womanhood, feeling her warmth, teasing her with his lack of penetration as his lips sought out her nipples, sucking softly on them before giving each one a light bite.
His body pressed against hers, his hands sliding back up to her wrists to pin her to the bed, totally immobile under him, his shaft rubbing tantalizingly against her slick pussy as he breathed against her neck, "Beg for me, daughter."
The Desert Rose Bordello - Tindome - 11-13-2014
A small grin flitted briefly over his features. There was something cute about that little gasp of surprise, cuter that she'd tried to hide it. He threw his bag back over his shoulder so he could move closer, heavy leather boots stepping almost silent.
She was a hostess, then, but not a madame. Less convenient than he would have liked, than if a room had come with a woman like a standard feature. Separate transaction, more bartering. "Don't know about all night," he said, glancing towards outside. Beds too soft and rooms too small, he doubted he'd be able to sleep comfortably. And as for whoever's company he bought...
He'd been away from people a long time. He had no illusions about what that would mean for his stamina. No point paying for more than he had to just for the sake of his ego. "Tonight and tomorrow," he said, still holding the chocolate aloft, "a room as long as I need it to eat and fuck. Include dinner. Chili's fine. Don't mind bread instead of cheese." That seemed fair. Bread wasn't even rare; he just couldn't make it himself. Faris set the chocolate on the bar and slid it nearer to her, a single finger holding it in reserve; he leaned a little closer, curious what she smelled like though he knew enough not to make his intentions obvious.
"You're not a whore," he said matter-of-factly. "Recommend one?"
Separate transaction or no, she surely knew the women well enough to steer him away from the worst of them.
She was a hostess, then, but not a madame. Less convenient than he would have liked, than if a room had come with a woman like a standard feature. Separate transaction, more bartering. "Don't know about all night," he said, glancing towards outside. Beds too soft and rooms too small, he doubted he'd be able to sleep comfortably. And as for whoever's company he bought...
He'd been away from people a long time. He had no illusions about what that would mean for his stamina. No point paying for more than he had to just for the sake of his ego. "Tonight and tomorrow," he said, still holding the chocolate aloft, "a room as long as I need it to eat and fuck. Include dinner. Chili's fine. Don't mind bread instead of cheese." That seemed fair. Bread wasn't even rare; he just couldn't make it himself. Faris set the chocolate on the bar and slid it nearer to her, a single finger holding it in reserve; he leaned a little closer, curious what she smelled like though he knew enough not to make his intentions obvious.
"You're not a whore," he said matter-of-factly. "Recommend one?"
Separate transaction or no, she surely knew the women well enough to steer him away from the worst of them.
The Desert Rose Bordello - Kat - 11-13-2014
Every teasing bite and skin moistening kiss made her body hot. She was a fire effigy; a burning idol intent to consume him, and he would notice how she seemed to moan more genuinely when he was rough. The sting, the pain, the way he made her feel like he he was possessed in that moment - Kismet was gladly receiving these increasingly hands on affections with a series of throaty whimpers and sighs. The dress was nothing more than packaging, and while she would thank him for not ruining it after the act, it was on the back burner in the face of his demons. Something seemed to shift entirely too quickly to be common, and the eyes focusing on her ample breasts and sculpted torso lost what light she expected to find. From aroused excitement to predatory craving, the hedonist in Kismet chuckled. His hands moved to possess her flesh, drawing her in and holding her tight in their weathered, course palms. Her response was to hover near his face when he allowed it, those small, desperate sounds for his ears only. Kirai never once tried to kiss her lips.
It was in the way he lavished her breasts that Kismet felt her attention waning. While he had paid for her entirety, he gave very little of himself, save for sucking hard at bruised clots starting to form along her throat. There was no intimacy to the act. He wanted to fuck her for the sole purpose of getting off; gruff and maddening and male. She didn't fight to stop his thighs from forcing her own apart, but she also didn't assist in the slightest. If Kirai managed to see her eyes again, where judgement was made based on his mistakes, he would see that spark of irritation Kismet was doing her best to suppress. Whether he really liked the sort of bitch Kismet could be, the woman wasn't particularly sure. All she knew was how disappointed she felt, buried beneath the carnal urges demanding she let him in.
Closing her lids, his words struck her like a slap. Not baby girl, or sweetheart, or darling, or slut, or whore. Daughter. Kismet cringed and felt a pang of regret swell beneath her chest. With her panties thrown to the wayside, her slick, wanton sex glistened. It was no secret she was turned on and tight with anticipation, but after what he said, there was honest to goodness shame attached to her desire. The head of his cock glided along her lower lips, tantalizingly slow and methodical, trying to elicit the siren calls she had shared with him before. Instead, the white haired fellow received reluctant moans that were dragged out by his persistence, amplified when her clit received attention. She didn't want to say anything at all, yet all the buxom beauty could think about was how amazing penetration would feel, forcing his thick girth into her tight, desperate cunt.
"Please..." Kismet panted, still not willing to look at her customer even as she begged. "Don't you want me?" Realistically, the blonde wasn't a fool. Someone else was in his head, and when he touched her, he saw them instead. It wasn't the first time, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. "I've been so good. Don't punish me, Daddy-" Kismet's pride seemed to have vanished upon realizing he wouldn't let her evade his grasp to shift beneath him. He was in control, and she was being toyed with. Was this what he meant by trust?[/size]
The Desert Rose Bordello - thedarkwyrm - 11-13-2014
There were a number of words that people didn't use to describe Kirai. As had already been established, shy was one of them. Another was kind. Another, unfortunately, was sane. It didn't keep him from doing his job; some even said it was an asset. But it did leave his grip on reality a little tenuous.
He was, however, very observant. While her words had, for a moment, clouded the lined between past and present, blurred the images of two women into one, some things didn't add up. The woman beneath him didn't sound like Yuki. She didn't move like Yuki. And that look in her eyes, even more so the way those eyes refused to look at him, was nothing like Yuki.
And yet she called him 'Daddy'.
A soft growl escaped his lips as he gripped her tighter, rocking his hips forward to plunge his full length into her in one smooth motion, forcing her tight pussy to stretch to accommodate him. In a strange, sick way, that was nonetheless something to be expected for Kirai, it was that sensation that brought him back to reality. He remembered very clearly how Yuki felt around him. A little bit softer, a little bit tighter, and far less experienced than the woman beneath him.
His eyes softened slightly as he pressed close against her, one hand stroking up her neck to cup her face, stroking her cheek with his thumb as he tipped her head upwards, leaning in to place a slow kiss on her lips. "I would never punish you, Kismet." His grin returned, looking more like the man she'd invited to her room back at the bar. His other hand moved down to her hips, stabilizing her as he began to thrust into her, years of practice and well-toned muscles synergizing to perform Kirai's second-best skill. It was without arrogance that he said, when asked, that the only thing he did better than fucking was killing.
"I might hurt you, just a little, but there's no need to punish you when you've been such a good girl." His grin grew cocky as he kissed her again, murmuring against her lips, "Or even if you are a bad bitch."
The Desert Rose Bordello - Kat - 11-14-2014
Never one to judge what customers said soto voce, Kismet found he planned to waste no time, and was taken as roughly as she had first desired to be. Still, even when appeased by this stranger, the buxom beauty couldn't shake the undercurrent of discomfort. His width spread her folds and delved deep towards her core, igniting the inner muscles to constrict around his shaft, massaging the girth as her throat opened to sing her praises for him. "Oh god-" Kismet breathed, silenced only when his lips decided it was time to taste hers. Like taking a sip of a Jolly Rancher vodka, Kismet tasted as sugary sweet as one could expect a woman in her line of profession to taste. Their tongues messily meshed and darted against one another's, and she tasted his madness like it was tangible; she just didn't know what was inside her. "You promised..." Again, the words where a whisper she could barely manage through her throaty moans, her hips now being guided to follow his in a teasing slow rote. As he dragged his member out, she braced for when he pushed forward again, made to fit his cock with each grinding thrust. The way he spoke was far stranger than she had been prepared for, and though she thoroughly enjoyed the way he verbally comforted her while mastering her body, she still harbored remnants of fear. Something behind his eyes told stories she didn't understand, and if there was a secret in their bed, she couldn't very well trust him completely. "I'm so bad-" She admitted as her voice ached with her desire. Every shift of his figure, wrapping up her own in a hold she couldn't shake, brought waves of building pleasure in the pit of her stomach.
At the angles he fucked her, Kismet could work up an orgasm. His lips now smothered hers when she grew louder, his mouth keeping her volume to a relatively tame one, stifled and yearning, but incapable of breaking his control over her air. Kismet felt dizzied just trying to steal enough air to breath, but she hungrily returned his lust with her own, even wrapping her thighs around his hips so he could thrust even deeper into her wanton cunt. Kirai wanted her badly, and she could tell by how he tensed and clung to her curves, desperate not to let Kismet slip away. Something about this left the courtesan shivering in anticipation against her buyer.
"Make me come, Daddy..." Either this was the ticket to his fetish, or she was pushing him to an edge she didn't care to be shoved off of. Either way, she didn't shy away from the title; life was meant to be lived dangerously.
The Desert Rose Bordello - Ghostly - 11-14-2014
Out behind the bordello stood a massive wind turbine that provided power to the estate that bartered in sex. A stroke of genius by the old owner to have this put in, considering where this place was situated made it nigh impossible to get on what little electrical grid existed in the world anymore. If one were out there (not that anyone would be caught outside at night unless they had a death wish), they'd catch sight of a lone man in the moonlight with tools at his hip and grime coating his hand sitting by what looked like a generator. A crank light provided additional light to see what was going on, but it was akin to a child's toy. Still, it was better than nothing as the obvious mechanic to this place was patching up another frayed connection from the turbine to the generator. The last thing this place needed was a sudden lack of modern amenities that were all but nonexistent in this war torn world.Thank god no one ever bothered to come back here and look what he was insulted to call his own handy work. Spare parts were a luxury to have, and getting them from any of the nearby cities weren't worth the price or risk, at least not yet. The power still ran though, and would continue to for little while longer anyways - that's all anyone cared about in the end.
Alder was the man's name, and after washing up in his room he'd dress up in his finer clothes before heading back down to the common room where the crowds were busy as always. Despite being this place's only mechanic in truth he fell into the job by chance while getting his rocks off one night. Beyond that he held not special rank inside these wooden walls. It did however allow him privilege to choose those he worked with.
Yes, standing at six feet and six inches, this blonde haired blue eyed repairman was also a prostitute.
By the counter he adjusted the cuffs of his white dress shirt while viewing the patrons. Whether they were scum or saintly mattered not, if one wanted to spend a night with Alder then their "A" game had best be brought, or make him quite the offer. That strong jawline and toned build did not give off the impression of a bitch simply because he was not one. Either way, no one had come his way yet, and that was alright. Alder didn't pay the bills with his dick, he did so with his hands, and on occasion, both. He worked this dual lifestyle because he enjoyed a good fuck, and this place offered better tail than scrounging around in the larger cities. In addition running water, electricity and protection to the workers were a hard bonus to pass.
The night was young and surely there would be someone that wanted him.
The Desert Rose Bordello - thedarkwyrm - 11-14-2014
She writhed under him, her moans swallowed up by his hungry kisses, while his hands wandered her body, exploring the unfamiliar curves, squeezing and pinching and caressing, committing every inch to memory. Her lust inspired him, encouraging him to let loose, to ravish her with his full intensity, cock plunging into her hungry cunt again and again, each time sliding nearly all the way out of her before slamming back down inside.
His hands, which happened to be squeezing her ass when she spoke again, tightened slightly when she called him 'Daddy'. He wasn't about to succumb to the same madness twice in one fucking, but it did stir up feelings, memories. If she wanted to provoke him, he would certainly oblige her. His hands slid up her body, one of them collecting her hands, lightly gripping both her wrists in a hold that, while not tight enough to hurt, felt nonetheless like an iron vise holding her hands, pinning them to the bed above her head. Fingertips trailed over her body as his other hand slowly made its way up her torso, then slowly wrapped around her neck.
He squeezed slowly, a gradual increase of pressure that allowed her to take in a lungful of air before her ability to do so was cut off entirely. With his hands controlling the upper half of her body, and his powerful hips controlling her lower half, he held her completely helpless as he picked up the pace for the big finish, slamming into her roughly, watching her face with a sinister grin. This was his favorite way to fuck. He'd become something of a master at it, and the girls he used it on eventually couldn't get off any other way. Something about having their life in his hands, the doubled rush of endorphins from the climax and the suffocation, made them addicted to him.
"Come for me, daughter," he said, grinning darkly down at her. It wasn't a delusion this time. He didn't actually see his daughter, any more than she actually though he was her father. This was the game she'd walked into, and now she'd play it through. "Come for Daddy." He felt his own pleasure building, but clamped down on it, putting all his focus into plowing the field in front of him. It was so much more enjoyable to fill them up while they writhed in ecstasy from their own climax.
The Desert Rose Bordello - Kat - 11-14-2014
Full thrusting motions left the woman breathless, a writhing tangle of limbs begging to be kept at bay. Pleas from a flustered figure, all moans and whimpers when he forced his thickness past the bracing confines of inner musculature. Slick inner walls hugged his girth, kneading and gripping it with the warm affections only a woman's embrace could manage. Her body reacted on instinct, aggressive even when pacified, but still increasingly affectionate with her cooing vocals. Kismet wanted him to sink low and deep into her body, and his grip on her cheeks seemed to do the trick. With her ass spread, he was given more room to push, and she choked out a throaty cry as Kirai further pounded her waist into the mattress. The movement of his hands was barely registered, her climax worked towards every time he directed grinding hips. Kismet may have entirely surrendered to her desires if it weren't for the hand that found it's way to her throat.
Those starry eyes of hers opened to focus on his face, which hovered uncomfortably close while she struggled to breathe. A gasp was all he earned, the panic blossoming across her portrait like there was a definite line being crossed, but she didn't try and warn him. Putting up with his oddness was just part of her job, and if something like a clutching hand around her neck was enough to break a deal, Kismet would have likely starved years ago. Her body dipped in a clumsy fidget before she groaned weakly, back arching hard against the bed as a familiar wave of pleasure washed over her taut body. When the orgasm hit, she couldn't help hilting his cock to the base, insatiably strangling his member with her seizing sex. He would feel every roll as her stomach muscles tensed hastily, held at pause so she could ride out the overwhelming satisfaction coming brought.
For someone who spent much of her time relieving others, Kismet never took an orgasm for granted. The solace she found cleared her conscience for the time being, practically ignoring his second use of the term 'daughter'. His kinks ceased to matter in the grand scheme of her thrill seeking. He could fuck her until he grew tired of doing so, but Kismet would never leave a shared bed without getting what was coming to her; even if her safety may have been on the line.
The Desert Rose Bordello - thedarkwyrm - 11-15-2014
Kirai gripped her tightly, feeling them joined as intimately as was possible without telepathy. Her throat working under his hand, straining for breath, the way her body fought against him, arching and writhing, the desperate tightness of her cunt as she came on his cock... but most importantly, the look of fear on her face. Kirai savored every ounce of her reactions, drinking it in like ambrosia, moving his body with hers, grinding deeply inside her without pulling out, drawing out her climax for as long as possible.
Until he felt her body's need for air grow truly desperate. When one has choked literally hundreds of partners, one learns to tell the difference between the fight for wanting to breathe and the uncontrollable fight of someone on the edge, whose vision is likely already beginning to go fuzzy. His hand released her throat, moving up to join his other hand, gripping both of her soft hands in his, entwining their fingers as he thrust hard into her, letting out a feral moan as his seed pumped into her, intent on filling her to the brim. It had been some time since he'd had a good woman in his arms.
He stayed there for a long moment, letting the rush of pleasure ebb away, and letting Kismet catch her breath again. Once they'd both mostly recovered, he leaned in, kissing her slowly, murmuring against her lips, "You're quite the woman, Kismet." He shifted with her, laying side by side, still holding her, grinning softly, red eyes sparkling with amusement. "First time experiencing breath control, I take it?"
The Desert Rose Bordello - megs - 11-15-2014
"One night, two nights: whatever," she replied with a shrug. The gesture was awkward with the way she leaned over the ledger. She was really the worst hostess in the world, but there was no room for unnecessary niceties when you worked the way Cashmere did.
"I will let you know when you've over-stayed your welcome," she reassures, standing straight once more with a flip of her ponytail. The book was closed with a dull thud, and she finally settled her attention on him. It was short-lived, however as her hues settled on the treat as it was set upon the bar top. She reached for it, nodding her head to agree to his terms.
Cashmere laughed, but there was no joy to it. It was too staccato and too short to be anything, really. "No, I am not a whore," she repeats. Certainly not. She was much too tall and thin, with plain features that she kept that way, intentionally. She didn't doll herself up with makeup or leave clouds of perfume behind in rooms. She made sure to separate herself from the actual working girls with the way she dressed: harsh fabrics in boring colors. The only thing interesting about her was the way her red hair sometimes caught the light.
"But, I almost wish I was if you're using more candy as a bartering tool," there was a light in here eyes and a grin on her lips that made it clear she was joking. Moving down the bar, she opened a metal lock box and dug around for a key. She settled it on the counter, before moving back and grasping either hips with her hands. "Room's on the third floor. I can send Rockslyn up to you within the hour. I hear she's good. You'll probably like her."
The Desert Rose Bordello - Tindome - 11-15-2014
He released the chocolate so she could claim it, satisfied with the deal.
Mostly satisfied.
She smelled faintly and indefinably of woman, nothing to cover up the smell, no flowers and no sickly sweet. He liked her ponytail for all the wrong reasons. A room full of knees a mile apart and Faris had a hankering for the woman with hers clamped shut. Typical. But he didn't mind settling.
"Me, too," he said as he claimed his key, because tact had never been one of his virtues. He rolled it between his fingers thoughtfully. "Don't want good," he added, because that would be pearls before swine in his current state. A good whore had a bag of tricks he wasn't willing to pay for, not when all he wanted was warm and willing. Maybe for the second night, but certainly not the first.
Having come to a decision, he leaned a little bit too close, because he might as well as long as their transaction was over. "Find me the whore's most like you," he said, "and send her up with dinner."
Then he turned toward the stairs and strode away, because grit was not high on the list of things that made sex better.
Mostly satisfied.
She smelled faintly and indefinably of woman, nothing to cover up the smell, no flowers and no sickly sweet. He liked her ponytail for all the wrong reasons. A room full of knees a mile apart and Faris had a hankering for the woman with hers clamped shut. Typical. But he didn't mind settling.
"Me, too," he said as he claimed his key, because tact had never been one of his virtues. He rolled it between his fingers thoughtfully. "Don't want good," he added, because that would be pearls before swine in his current state. A good whore had a bag of tricks he wasn't willing to pay for, not when all he wanted was warm and willing. Maybe for the second night, but certainly not the first.
Having come to a decision, he leaned a little bit too close, because he might as well as long as their transaction was over. "Find me the whore's most like you," he said, "and send her up with dinner."
Then he turned toward the stairs and strode away, because grit was not high on the list of things that made sex better.
The Desert Rose Bordello - megs - 11-15-2014
She picked up the chocolate bar and turned it over in her hands a few times as if she almost didn't believe it was real. She was failing at her attempts to not appear like she was coveting the item. Memories of moments long gone muddled her feelings. When he'd expressed a mutual disappoint in her joke, she looked up at him, again. She was silent. Staring at him, she swallowed hard. She was just beginning to notice that there was very attractive man beneath the coating of dirt. Oh.
He leaned closer and her face got hot, a crimson blush flared across her features all the way to the tips of her ears. "O-okay," was her response, stuttered out the best she could manage as she stood frozen. "I'll see what I can do."
She watched him walk away, setting the chocolate behind the bar, before fussing with her clothing. She had no girls like her. Or she wasn't like the other girls. That was whole point of the way she was. She shifted from one foot to the other, to avoid pacing behind the bar. She repeated the conversation in her head, she was not a whore.
Except, she was only a whore if she accepted payment. Right?
Shaking her head she bat the idea away with mental hands.
No, no, no. That was most definitely not an option.
She rubbed a hand against the back of her neck, before pressing the palm to her mouth.
Shit.
She was a not a whore.
So, why was she knocking on his door later with a bowl of chili and a hunk of bread, as he'd requested?
Because he'd asked for a woman like her, and she had none.
And because, for some reason, she really, really wanted to.
The Desert Rose Bordello - Tindome - 11-15-2014
His clothes were abandoned in an unceremonious pile on the floor, save for the bone necklace he hung carefully on a hook. Faris wasn't a superstitious man, didn't have much use for talismans, but he liked the look of it. Tended to unsettle superstitious men, and he liked that, too. The skulls of vultures hanging around his neck, this is what happens to my competition.
He scrubbed at his skin like it had done him wrong, trying to find the color of his skin beneath the red of the sand. There were scars he hadn't noticed, new ones hidden beneath a layer of desert, and if he thought about it long enough he could probably remember where they'd come from. Nothing serious, because he avoided the serious things; the best defense was never having to defend yourself. Probably wasn't enough time to shave, nor to set his braids to rights. They were starting to frizz near his scalp, and some of the bits of feather and bone he'd woven into them had started to get worn. He wasn't vain, anyway. It was something to do, when food was settled and the nights were long.
He touched his cock only as much as he had to, because he was still thinking about the way her face had gone red and hot in a way that couldn't be faked. Still ended up rock hard, but he supposed that wasn't at odds with his plans.
He was starting to dry off when the knock came; he considered wrapping a towel around his waist, but there didn't seem to be much point. Using his dick as a towel hook, while amusing, probably wouldn't do him any favors.
It wasn't the redhead that he'd expected to see, when he opened the door. That gave him pause. Gently, he reached out to take the bowl from her; he stepped back, enough that she could come inside if she wanted. He dipped the hunk of bread into the chili to take a bite, chewed thoughtfully.
"You're not a whore," he repeated slowly, and this time it was a question. What was she doing here?
He scrubbed at his skin like it had done him wrong, trying to find the color of his skin beneath the red of the sand. There were scars he hadn't noticed, new ones hidden beneath a layer of desert, and if he thought about it long enough he could probably remember where they'd come from. Nothing serious, because he avoided the serious things; the best defense was never having to defend yourself. Probably wasn't enough time to shave, nor to set his braids to rights. They were starting to frizz near his scalp, and some of the bits of feather and bone he'd woven into them had started to get worn. He wasn't vain, anyway. It was something to do, when food was settled and the nights were long.
He touched his cock only as much as he had to, because he was still thinking about the way her face had gone red and hot in a way that couldn't be faked. Still ended up rock hard, but he supposed that wasn't at odds with his plans.
He was starting to dry off when the knock came; he considered wrapping a towel around his waist, but there didn't seem to be much point. Using his dick as a towel hook, while amusing, probably wouldn't do him any favors.
It wasn't the redhead that he'd expected to see, when he opened the door. That gave him pause. Gently, he reached out to take the bowl from her; he stepped back, enough that she could come inside if she wanted. He dipped the hunk of bread into the chili to take a bite, chewed thoughtfully.
"You're not a whore," he repeated slowly, and this time it was a question. What was she doing here?