The Virgin Whore (An Erotic Novel)

Chapter 1

Adult themes, offensive humour, strong language, and an author who doesn't give a fuck :)
If you're a snowflake, stay out... 'cause it's gonna get hot!

I gripped onto the brass headboard as this man pounded into me, bringing me to the brink of orgasm... Or at least, that was what he thought he was doing. Fairly regular customers wouldn't usually be as easily fooled, however, Johnathen, as I'd come to know him, seemed to be a few pennies short of a shilling, to say the least.

"Ooh, yeah, baby!" I moaned loudly, giving the impression that this was also enjoyable for me.

Haha, jerk, I thought cynically. I wasn't even wet.

It was a useful technique that Cherry had passed down to me when I first came to work for her, to discreetly hold the customer's penis between the thighs to give the impression that he was inside me, when in actuality, I was preventing myself from pregnancy and also the possibility of diseases.

It was a win-win situation, really. He obviously didn't know any different. And trust me, if you saw some of the guys I was forced to get down and dirty with, you would do anything to avoid having any part of their hillbilly willy within ten miles of your vagina. And a pregnancy? Well, the result of that would be some kind of homunculi at best.

"You like my cock deep inside you, huh? You filthy whore," he spat, slapping my face, not too gently.

"You know I do," I purred into his ear, trying to contain my annoyance at having been slapped in the face. I want to twist your dick into a fucking pretzel and... No—he always left a good tip after the deed, so I mustn't think like that. I'll snap it in half!

"I'm going to come," he suddenly panted.

Going to come. It sounds kind of ironic when you think about the phrase. Go to come. Why would you go— "Shit!" I yelled, quickly covering my mouth. He had come alright. All over my clean bodice.

"Shit," I attempted to rectify. "Five star customer. You made me come hard at the end," I lied, to boost his ego. Not that it needed boosting. It needed deflating a little if you ask me. It was his IQ that needed boosting, but I don't think even God would have the ability to boost his IQ.

"I know. I felt your pussy clench around my dick at the end. You're really tight for a whore," he said confidently.

That wasn't my pussy, I assure you, dumbass. Can't even tell the difference between a vagina and a leg.

He rolled off from on top of me onto the bed and began redressing himself. At the same time, I got a rag and began attempting to get his slug juice—I mean semen—off of my recently washed bodice and petticoat.

He suddenly tapped on my shoulder, and I turned to find him fully dressed again and holding out a palm with five shillings in it.

"For your excellent services," he said.

"Thank you." I greedily took the shiny money from his hand and immediately put it in my drawer beside my bed. I needed every penny I could get.

"I will be seeing you again soon, hopefully." He smiled at me and tipped his hat as if he was a perfect gentleman.

"See you soon, Mr. Johnathen." I giggled playfully as though I couldn't wait for our next encounter.

I stuck my tongue out at the door as he closed it behind him.

Once I'd got all his homunculi sperm babies off me, I dressed myself in my usual low cut dress that barely covered anything. I may as well have just wandered downstairs into the bar wearing nothing.