The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

College Undercover

Part 9

Not for those under 18 (or whatever the legal age for this sort of stuff is in your area). If you’re not that old, Boo! Go away now. If you are offended by graphic descriptions of sexual activities, especially non-consensual ones, then don’t read this. All characters and situations are fictional.

Copyright © 2018

Archived on the Erotic Mind Control web site by permission of the author. This story may be downloaded for personal archiving as long as this notice is retained.

The house where the stag party was being held had a pool. Carol and the other girls had been told to bring bikinis. It didn’t surprise Carol as she peered out of the taxi’s window, looking at the houses as they neared their destination. Probably all of them had a pool. They were large enough, nothing like Patrick’s mansion, but the wealth was obvious, all different and all the same, nothing about their architecture stuck in the mind. Expensive, nice to look at, forgettable. Just like a high-priced whore. Never places that she’d be asked as a police woman. So many doors opened to a whore. Not as a guest though, not as a friend. Just something to be used, then thrown away, like the remains of a catered meal at one of the parties the people that lived here would throw.

It was early evening as the taxi pulled up in front of the house, Carol could just see stars over the lights from the streetlamps and houses. She remembered looking up at them as a little girl, wondering where she’d live, what would happen to her. The stars were the same but Carol was very different to that little girl. There was no chance that she’d ever live in a house like this. Angrily she pushed the thoughts away, the memories too painful. The lights streamed out of the house, the sounds of music and conversation easily heard. The party had started hours ago, but the organiser, Matthew, Carol hadn’t been told his last name, only that he was the best man and in charge, wanted them there after dark. Maybe he was afraid of what the neighbours might think, if they saw three strange girls turning up at the party, maybe the money wouldn’t stretch for any more of their time. Carol didn’t know, maybe they had just wanted no distractions while they watched the afternoon’s football game.

She caught the taxi driver ogling them as Janice paid him. Hurriedly the man averted his eyes, obviously embarrassed at being caught out. Did he know what they were? Or did he just think they were three pretty college girls, maybe visiting a friend? Perhaps he thought they were out of his reach, too young, too pretty, when he could have any one of them if he was willing to pay. Carol thought about giving him the brothel’s number. His window was open. She could lean in, angle herself so he could see just as much as she wanted him to see, even more of her breasts than the low cut dress revealed to the world. Not everything, enough to tempt but leave him wanting more. She could, but she didn’t. Carol wanted to think that there were some people she met who didn’t know what she was. She knew that the men she’d meet in the house would have no doubts at all.

The door was opened almost as soon as they rang the bell, the man, presumably Matt, had probably been waiting for them, maybe even saw them pull up in the taxi. Short dark hair, neatly combed, light coloured polo shirt and dark trousers. Carol could see him smiling at them. She didn’t like that smile. It was all predatory, cold. He didn’t look old enough to be running corporate takeovers, maybe 30, but Carol could imagine him giving that smile to people who were told their jobs were safe then saw them disappear in smoke.

“Hi,” he said, “I’m Matt, come in, and you’re?”

“Jewel” Carol said. Matt didn’t offer his hand. Carol hadn’t expected him to.

“Laurel,” Janice said.

“Belle,” Ellie finished the introductions in her southern drawl.

“Great,” Matt smirked, “This way, ladies.” He indicated a doorway to the left, just inside the front door. It led to a lounge room. She could see evidence of the party that she could hear carrying on elsewhere in the house, full ashtrays and empty beer cans. Carol didn’t think it was Matt’s house, there were photos of an older couple. Perhaps they were his parents or the groom’s. She wondered if they had a clue what was happening in their house. What would happen in their bed.

“Okay,” Matt said, leaning against the fake fireplace after they’d gone over the arrangements. Just formality, no change from what had been agreed. “Show me what we bought.” He was trying to act calm, but Carol could hear the nervous excitement in his voice.

The girls looked at each other, then Carol shrugged, she knew what he wanted. She stepped forward, pointed the toes on one high-heeled foot to show off the length of her leg. Reaching around behind herself she slowly pulled down the zipper of her dress, then shimmied out of the garment. She could feel Matt’s eyes running up her legs, drinking in the stockings, the suspender set holding them up. She clasped her hands above her head, gave a slow twirl. She looked at him as she spun, but she could see his eyes were fixed on her breasts, her momentum making them strain to be free of the white lacy bra that matched the rest of her underwear.

“Oh wow,” Carol could hear the desire in Matt’s voice, she smiled to herself, pleased to have punctured his arrogant pretence of calm.

“Okay, next.” Janice followed Carol’s lead, slowing stripping out of her dress. Her underwear was fire engine red, matching her lipstick, suspenders holding up her seamed, dark, stockings. She sauntered over to Matt, in her heels and underwear and ran one finger along his cheek. Carol was sure she could see a bulge forming in his trousers. Janice glided back to Carol, one foot carefully in front of the other, extracting the maximum wiggle from her arse. Carol had to stop herself from laughing as Janice rolled her eyes, her back to Matt.

As Janice stopped alongside her Carol leant over and slowly kissed Janice’s cheek. She could see Matt’s left hand clenching and unclenching.

“Yeah, um, Belle.” The blonde took longer to lose her dress than Janice and Carol had. She teased, pulling up the hem before letting it down again, slowly rolling it off her shoulder to reveal her bra. Her underwear was black. Carol thought Ellie must have had some experience as a stripper, as she posed and stretched in front of Matt, finishing bent over, arse thrust towards him and her back arched.

“Oh man.” Carol could see Matt trying to regain some composure. “Yeah, good. Wish I hadn’t promised Glenn first choice.”

Glenn, that was the groom, Carol remembered. She wondered if the bride-to-be had any idea of what the stag party involved. If she knew that her future husbanded was going to be fucking a whore. Or three, more than likely. And if he was prepared to do that just before the wedding, how long would he wait afterwards before doing it again? Carol knew the temptations girls like her afforded, the acts they offered that most housewives never would. She knew that there were married men amongst her customers. Some didn’t bother to hide it, wearing their rings to the brothel. On others she noticed the pale skin where a ring normally sat. She supposed that she should feel guilty, fucking married men, helping them cheat on their wives, but it had never occurred to her. She was just a whore, she did what she was paid to do. Looking at Matt she couldn’t see a ring or any sign of one, but that didn’t mean every man here this weekend would be single. She shrugged, probably most of them had wives or girlfriends. It didn’t matter to her. She thought perhaps it should, but it didn’t. She never thought about what happened to the wives and children of the people she spied on in her undercover work. So why worry about the families of her Johns?

“Okay girls,” Matt clapped his hands, clearly revelling in his authority. “Just give me a moment and you can make your entrance.”

The three women slipped back into their dresses and took the time to check their hair and makeup in a mirror above the fireplace. Carol could hear voices, what might have been speeches and shouts. Eventually Matt was back for them, sticking his head around the door and telling them to follow. He hadn’t bothered to knock.

As Carol headed out she could hear music playing, some disco number from the charts. She was the last in line, following the other two women into a much larger lounge. There was a sunken floor and on wall the largest television set Carol had ever seen, at least 30 inches across. The groom, Glenn, was unmistakeable. He was sitting in a lounge chair that had obviously been dragged to the middle of the sunken area. He was tense, his lack of familiarity with being the centre of attention plain, the beer in one hand, and the forced bravado he tried to display, doing nothing to cover his discomfort. There were over a dozen other men there, already cheering and clapping, lined up around the edges of the room. Carol wondered how many of them would have sex with her before she left the house tomorrow. She realised it would probably be most of them, if not all. They weren’t looking at her now, though, all their eyes were fixed on Janice and Ellie. The redhead and the blonde were dancing to the music, their attention fixed on Glenn, thrusting themselves at him, fingers running along his arms, caressing his cheeks, bending over or kneeling, everything in time to the music, making sure he could see everything their dresses would reveal.

Carol joined in effortlessly, running her hands through her silky dark brown hair as she twirled in time to the beat, turning and twisting her body to emphasise her breasts, her hips, her arse. Slowly she lowered her hands, ran them up and down her body, caressed her own breasts. She was losing herself in the music, could feel her lips puckering, her head thrown back. She knew multiple sets of eyes were on her, imagining what these men could do to her, what they would do. She could feel herself getting aroused, wanting the attention, letting every man there know that she could be his, would be there for whatever he wanted. One hand fell to the hem of her dress, copying the moves Ellie had used earlier, slowly drew it up, revealing the top of her stocking and the suspender that held it up. She could hear yells, wolf whistles.

Then the music ceased and Carol couldn’t stop herself pouting in disappointment.

Matt was striding into the centre of the room, hands raised, palms to either side, “Okay gents,” he called out, “settle down, settle down.” He turned slowly, waited for silence. Then brought his hands together. “You know the rules. These lovely ladies are here to entertain you. But don’t tire yourself out too quick, they’re not leaving until tomorrow.” That got some snickers. Carol didn’t look away from the eyes roaming over her and the other girls. She could see the lust burning there. Some of the men were drinking, not entirely steady on their feet. Carol wondered how much they’d already consumed in the hours since the party had started. Maybe not all the men would be able to take advantage of the girls’ services. Carol cringed as some part of her regretted the loss.

“Glenn gets first choice,” Matt announced grandly. “Come on girls, show him what you got, but leave the dresses on. We want something to look forward to.”

The three whores lined themselves up in front of the groom. Carol caressed herself, lifted her breasts up, feeling their weight through her dress and bra, offering them to the seated man. She knew it was wrong, that she shouldn’t like this. Yet she couldn’t have stopped herself even if she’d wanted to. She could see Janice, preening, blowing kisses to the groom. At first she thought Ellie was doing little different to her or Janice, but then the blonde surprised her. Carol watched as Ellie slipped her hands up her long toned legs, then under her dress. Carol heard the soft click of suspenders being undone and then Ellie was pulling her panties down her legs, stepping out of them, before tossing them in Glenn’s lap. Carol mentally kicked herself for not thinking of the same trick. Matt had said leave their dresses alone, he hadn’t mentioned anything else. Ellie was smiling, pulling Glenn out of the chair. The groom-to-be wasn’t resisting.

“Oh yeah, we have a winner,” said Matt, clapping amidst the applause and wolf whistles from the other men. Ellie was leading Glenn upstairs, Matt had said that was where the bedrooms were.

“Now my turn,” he said, as he pulled Janice to him, his hands reaching around to maul her arse. He enjoyed himself for a while before pulling her to the stairs.

Carol looked around nervously. She was going to be left alone with the other men. It was clear that neither she nor they knew what was supposed to happen. She didn’t want to have to deal with them all, not at once. She could picture herself, thrown to the floor, dress ripped off, as one man after another took her. Part of her was afraid. Part of her wanted it. But for once it was the small part and even the whore wasn’t in favour of the idea.

Her eyes met Matt’s. She could see him smiling, perhaps sensing her fear. “Sort it out boys,” he called as he disappeared up the stairs, half dragging Janice behind.

Carol turned to face the other men. She was a whore, she wanted to whore. She’d been paid for. But even the whore in Carol’s head had her limits. She knew she couldn’t show the fear that Matt had glimpsed or the men would be a pack, tearing her apart like wild dogs. She had to take control. Carol could sense the uncertainty in the air, she had a chance, if she could use it. Carefully she edged towards the stairs.

One of the men was there, leaning against the bannister, his cool appearance betrayed by the eagerness with which his eyes regarded her. He looked fit, well-muscled. Not a body-builder, but if he worked in an office then he made up for it elsewhere. Carol measured the distance between them as she kept moving. Some of the men looked edgier than others, naked lust in their eyes, she could see they were weighing up their chances if the made a move for her. There were surreptitious moves towards her.

“Hey boys, how’d this afternoon’s game go?” The men stopped, stunned, unprepared for the diversion. “49ers win?”

Two of the men looked at each other, confused. “Umm, yeah,” one of them offered.

Carol had reached the man she’d spotted by the stairs, wrapped herself around him. “Great, you’ll have to tell me all about it,” she said to the rest as she hauled her target away. She could feel the crash of disappointment flow through the other men as the tension released, hear mutters of “no way”, “oh shit” and one “yeah, sure”. Carol looked at her chosen partner, saw him looking smugly at his friends. As she escaped up the stairs she could hear the sounds of voices, “Any more beers?” someone asked, then “You think she really wants to know about the game?” And the derisive laughter in response to that.

The man, whoever he was, stopped Carol halfway to the next floor. He kissed her, roughly, she could feel his erection through their thin clothes. Those didn’t stay in the way long as they found an empty bedroom upstairs. He was strong, Carol was flung to the bed. She didn’t mind, she welcomed it. She was a whore and he was going to use her, fill her needy pussy. She didn’t have to wait long.

The next few hours blurred into one another. It wasn’t like her experiences at the brothel. There she had time between each customer, to freshen up, repair her makeup, put some clothes back on, even if it was only lingerie, before her next trick. Here a man would come for her a few minutes after the last, the time it took for one man to get dressed, head down the stairs and let the others know one of the whores was free. Or, even if she was quick, venturing downstairs after slipping on some clothes, there wouldn’t be a moment without some man’s hand touching her, and often more than one man. She had to be on her guard, for now she had some control but she knew that if she let it go too far she might lose that. Sometimes it was just her, sometimes she saw Ellie or Janice or both, working just as she was. Carol played the men, used what the whore knew, what the policewoman knew, to read them, to know just how far to take the teasing, the tempting, to keep them on edge without letting them go too far. She slapped hands away and punctured egos when she had to, hid behind cushions and led them into games, let herself be taken upstairs or grabbed a man when it seemed the only way out of a situation about to careen out of control.

Carol knew that she should hate what she was doing. She couldn’t even pretend that there was any point to it other than being used. There was no opportunity to talk, no chance to try to turn them into long term customers or see if any of them had something Wainwright might value. The police captain, what would he think if he saw her now? Sweaty, tired, covered in her own fluids and those of half a dozen men and, worst of all, the dreamy, contented, look on her face. Carol knew how thoroughly she’d been fucked. Sex, or the promise it, hung constantly in the air and it was almost one, long, fuck, hour after hour and she was just a needy whore, wanting it, wanting to be filled and used. If she wasn’t being fucked then revelling in the edge, the promise, in the air. She could hear the policewoman crying, a gentle sobbing at the back of her mind. The whore just wanted another man to take her. Even if it was Matt, back for another round. The best man had had his turn at her, as rough and uncaring as she’d expected, but Carol had found early in her new life that her body reacted to that sort of treatment as well as to anything else.

Eventually the stream of men slowed and she had some time to herself. Her stomach rumbled with hunger. The last man had mentioned something about food, so Carol decided to see if she could find any. She headed downstairs, after taking time to clean up and slipping her dress back on, determined to grasp at some dignity, no matter how shattered or illusionary.

Downstairs she could see Ellie, also back in her dress. The blonde was sitting in the lap of one of the men, his hands on her breasts as she wriggled her arse into his crotch, the blood in his cheeks rising as his friends urged Ellie on. Carol watched as the blonde slapped away the hands of other men who tried to fondle her. With their attention focussed on Ellie, Carol took the change to slip by unnoticed.

Janice was in the kitchen, snacking on some of the salad, clad only in bra and panties. One man was passed out in the corner, snoring loudly. That, at least, reminded Carol of the parties she’d attended when she’d been in college. The redhead seemed unconcerned.

They exchanged greetings, it all seeming unreal to Carol as she picked at the meat and salad that were laid out, just two friends bumping into each other in the kitchen at a party. But one was only in her underwear, the other wasn’t wearing any, and both had been fucked for hours.

“You okay?” Carol asked.

“Sure, you?” Janice look tired, but then Carol hadn’t looked exactly fresh when she’d glanced at her reflection in the mirror before coming downstairs.

“Well enough,” Carol shrugged. She heard more shouts and laughter from the lounge room. She wondered what Ellie was doing now.

Janice caught her looking in that direction “Think she’s made him cum?”

Carol’s eyes shot wide, “What? You mean, the guy?”

“The one she was sitting on? Yeah”, Janice waved a hand in the general direction of the lounge, a gesture of dismissal. “She said she could. Just by, you know.”

Carol shook her head. Part of her thought about what she could learn from the blonde. Part of her simply didn’t want to know.

“They’re pretty hopeless,” Carol could see the scorn in her friend’s face.

“You mean these guys?” Carol asked.

“Yeah, no idea, fumbling around like little boys.”

Carol had to admit the sex had been more quantity than quality. As a whore she didn’t expect any consideration, but these men seemed to have little idea how to get the most out of sex, even for themselves, let alone their partner. They just wanted their release, as quickly and simply as they could get it.

“Yeah,” the brunette admitted, “they are. I feel sorry for their wives.”

Janice grinned, “I know. Or girlfriends.” Then her look grew more serious, “Still.”

Carol knew what went unsaid after that last word. She could tell what was running through her friend’s thoughts. The same things were in her head. I want to be paid for sex. I’m happy to be a prostitute. I love it when men use me. Whatever the party guests might lack as lovers didn’t matter, she and Janice were getting paid, being used. They were whores, and what that meant to them could make up for a lot of deficiencies in a man.

“Yes,” agreed Carol. “How long before they realise we’re out here?”

“The sooner the better,” her friend answered and Carol could only agree.

Neither of them had to wait long to get their wish. Ellie chose another partner, or one chose her and they headed back upstairs. Other men came for Janice and Carol, she could see the eager look in her friend’s eyes, matching her own.

Hours later, sunlight coming in through the window, Carol awoke and wondered how much sleep she had managed to get. The ache in her head told her it wasn’t enough, however long it had been. She wanted a shower, perhaps it would help. A man’s arm was draped across her. She thought his name was Bob. He’d surprised her, at least making some pretence of caring about her pleasure and not just his, not that his technique had anything to recommend it. Still, if he was going to make an effort Carol was happy to give him some pointers. Who knew, perhaps some future wife would benefit, not knowing who to thank. She had no idea where the other men had spent the night.

After a quick shower Carol tried not to look in the mirror as she dried herself, not wanting to see the whore who would look back. She wasn’t sure what would be worse, seeing how used she looked or seeing the happy satisfied glow she knew would be in her eyes. Still, she was a whore, and a whore existed to be used.

So Carol smiled at Matt when the best man appeared at her door, thinking he’d be the next one to use her. Carol didn’t like him, but that didn’t matter. A whore isn’t paid to like her Johns, a whore’s just paid to do what they want. If Matt wanted to use her, that was fine by Carol. More than fine, it was what she wanted.

“Clean up and get your bikini on. We’re all down by the pool.” It was an order, not a request. Matt didn’t wait for her reply. He just turned and headed downstairs. Bob still didn’t stir. Carol checked he was still breathing before leaving the room.

Janice and Ellie were waiting for her in the kitchen, they exchanged greetings, cautiously glancing at each other to make sure they were all okay. Like Carol her companions were clad only in skimpy bikinis. All of them had added their high heels as well. It was second nature to them.

“Come on,” the blonde said, “let’s see what this pool’s like.” Then she strode through the door. Janice looked at Carol. Carol wasn’t sure she wanted to go outside, face the men. She’d lost count, wasn’t sure how many had taken her, but it was at least close enough to all of them as made no difference. She didn’t how she could look them in the eye. A shameless, brazen whore would do it, but as much as Carol wanted to be a whore, she could feel shame still flickering within her. She thought that maybe that was a good thing, but it made her fear what lay outside. Carol told herself she wasn’t giving into fear, that wasn’t her. She wasn’t a coward. A little doubt remained, that all her talk of bravery was just a rationalisation to cover up how her desire to whore was driving everything. It didn’t matter, either choice led outside. Carol shrugged at her friend, and headed after Ellie, after a moment she could hear Janice trailing behind her.

The girls were greeted by cheers and wolf whistles. Carol could feel her stride turning into a strut, the appreciation turning her on, dampening her fears, as well as other things. She saw that some of the men were lounging around the pool, drinking despite it being no more-than mid-morning, the sun strong in the Californian sky. Carol knew it wasn’t all of them, Bob was still upstairs, and perhaps some others hadn’t woken up yet. A couple of guys were in the pool, tossing a ball back and forth. Carol thought she might as well enjoy herself. Heading to the edge of the pool she slipped off her heels then dived in. She arced into the water, graceful, Carol was a strong swimmer. She settled into her stroke, the feel of the water flowing past her improving her mood, driving some of the tiredness away.

After a few laps Carol had to stop. There were more bodies in the pool, too many to easily squeeze past. She stood up, pushing her wet hair out of her eyes. She could feel it plastered to her head. A few more of the men had joined the ball game, the rest watching eagerly. The game had changed. Ellie was at the centre of it, the men throwing the ball between them and the blonde trying to catch it. At some point during Carol’s swim Ellie had lost her bikini top. The men seemed more interested in watching her breasts, bouncing, dripping with water as she lunged for the ball and then rose from the water, than in watching the ball. Not, Carol admitted, that it was much of a surprise. Then the game stopped and they looked at her.

“Hey, Jewel, want to join in?” one asked. She didn’t know his name. Had they had sex last night? Had he used her? Carol didn’t know. She felt the loss of something, and didn’t know what it was. She didn’t want to think about it and made herself look at the men. She was sure that they didn’t just want her to play catch. They’d expect her to do what Ellie was doing, give them the same view. Why settle for one half-naked, dripping, girl when they could have two? Carol looked around for Janice but the redhead was nowhere in sight. Probably back inside with a man by now. Carol wished that she was. The thought seemed odd, realising that she’d rather be fucked than strip off in public jarred. Yet she’d never done public nudity, even at Patrick’s party he’d let her keep her dress, his hands may have been everywhere, but he’d left her that much. If Ellie had been a stripper than this was probably tame for her, but for Carol it was yet another step.

In her hesitation the decision was taken out of her hands. She heard someone behind her just before she felt the bikini top being undone and ripped away. She dived after the man, trying to retrieve the top. He backed away, laughing, then threw it to one of his fellows when she got close. Carol was good in the water, probably better than most, if not all, of the men, but numbers were against her. Try as she might she couldn’t corner whoever had her top. And then she stopped, realising that she’d already lost. She had dived and bounced around the pool for she didn’t know how long, topless. They’d all been able to watch her, her breasts, her tits, bouncing and dripping with water as she rose and dived back in. It seemed a strange thing to worry about, she’d lost count of how many man had fondled and abused her breasts and this was only looking. Yet it was different, so many men at once. The thought crossed her mind that she could tell them she was a policewoman, order them to stop, give back her top. She knew that they’d simply laugh at her, wouldn’t believe her. There was no reason they should. The authority the badge should have given her worthless.

“Okay,” she said, resigned, “let’s play ball.” She could see that the men were disappointed, they were obviously happier having her chasing her clothes than a ball. The man holding her top shrugged and tossed it out of the pool. At least she knew where it was.

She heard Ellie squeal. Spinning in the water Carol could see the blonde splashing across the pool after one of the men, a scrap of cloth held in his hands. Carol realised it was the remaining half of Ellie’s bikini. The blonde seemed unconcerned at her nakedness, but Carol wasn’t prepared to go that far. She thought maybe she should, a whore should do what the John wants, but she couldn’t, it was too much. She knew that if she hesitated this choice would be taken from her as well. She dove into the water, swam as quickly as she could for the nearest steps. Every eye around the pool was on her tits as she climbed out. Carol shivered, and it wasn’t just from the cold as water evaporated from her skin.

She picked one of the men who was lying on a lounge chair, snuggled next to him, pressing her body into his. Carol grabbed his cock, started massaging it through his swimmers. It was already half erect. The man responded immediately, mauling her arse. A stray thought drifted through her head. Was this better than what would have happened if she’d stayed in the pool? Sure, she’d have been stripped bare in seconds, but as she was, her naked tits rubbing into the man’s chest, jacking him off, his hands all over her arse, how could she think this was better? A small, rational, part of her mind tried to tell her how damaged she was that she didn’t run screaming from either choice. She knew that it was true but was too turned on to care how broken she was. Carol could feel fingers fumbling at the ties of her bikini bottom. She was about to have the worst of both worlds. Playfully she slapped the man’s hands away and rolled off the lounge. As she got to her feet she pulled him with her, whispering to him “C’mon baby”, putting every bit of sensuality she could into the words. She wanted into the house. She was a whore and she wanted to fuck and if she was using that as a refuge from public nudity, well, she’d sort that out later. Or maybe she’d just forget it, as she’d forgotten so much of what she used to be, of what used to matter to her.

* * *

Carol rolled over in the bed, looked at the clock for what must have been the tenth time that day. Finally it was close enough to the time that they were being picked up that she felt within her rights to get ready to go. Even the whore had had enough to satisfy her. Carol left her last partner, Don, well, maybe that was his name, splayed over the bed, snoring lightly. After another shower Carol changed into a clean set of clothes and went to look for the other girls. She soon found Janice, alone in another of the bedrooms, combing her hair, damp from her own shower. The other bedrooms were empty, so they decided Ellie must be downstairs.

One of the men tried to take Carol back to the bedrooms, but when she protested the time was up it was Glenn who came to her rescue. The two men eyed each other for a moment, before Carol’s assailant shrugged and headed off. Carol thanked the groom, though she still wondered what the future held for his bride-to-be, then took the chance to follow Janice, who she’d seen heading for the kitchen.

“You found Ellie?” she asked as caught up to the redhead.

“Yeah, umm,” then Janice paused. She hadn’t turned to look at Carol, she was looking out the windows, in the direction of the pool. “Oh.”

Carol looked to see what had caught Janice’s attention. It was early afternoon, the sun at its height. The scene was vivid, clear, no shadows to hide anything from the streaming Californian light. The light that seemed too pristine, too pure, for what Carol saw. Ellie was on a table, on her hands and knees. The blonde was naked. One man was thrusting into her from behind. Another stood in front of her, and she was sucking at his dick. Carol could see the wide-eyed expression on Ellie’s face, almost comical as her mouth stretched around the member it embraced.

Carol couldn’t take her eyes off the scene playing out before her. The men were taking Ellie in a way no single lover ever could. Carol knew such things happened, even if she couldn’t remember when she’d found out. If she’d been asked, back then, before Copeland, she’d have said taking two men at time was something only sluts and whores did. Not something she’d ever do. But back then she’d never realised she’d become a whore. That she’d love being a whore. What Ellie was doing was something a whore would do. Everything Carol had done with a John she could pretend might be something she’d do with someone she liked, a lover. Some of the things she did were crude and degrading but it was one on one and just maybe she’d find someone for herself someday and who knew what they might want to share. Carol realised it was pointless, a trick she played on her own mind. Still, it mattered to her. But this wasn’t like that, didn’t offer even that fig leaf of pretence.

I could look like that. Carol was both horrified and fascinated. She was a whore, she wanted to be used. Used like Ellie was being used. The men were thrusting into the blonde, Carol could hear the grunts from where she stood. She couldn’t deny the power it exerted over her, the pull she felt. She was horrified at how it aroused her despite how degrading she thought it was. She could see the blonde’s tits swinging beneath her, bouncing in time with the thrusts of the man taking her from behind. Carol couldn’t form coherent thoughts. Me. Mine. She tried to find some way to escape. Ellie was blonde, she was brunette. Her b-cups, verging on c, weren’t as large as Ellie’s d-cups. She wouldn’t then, look quite like that. But she was making excuses, flimsy, useless, transparent.

Carol could feel herself dampening at the thought of it being her between the two men, her arousal growing by the moment. She didn’t want to believe that she wanted it. Even as she felt the revulsion at the degradation she wanted to be taken, used, right then. For a man to do something, anything. Sometime, somewhere in the future, it could be her being used like Ellie was now. Carol could almost see the policewoman standing on the other side of Ellie, the disdain and disgust plain on her face as she watched the scene unfolding. The policewoman had Carol’s face. Of course she did. She was taunting Carol, demanding that she choose. “Be like me or be like her.”

Carol heard Janice moaning, dragged her eyes to her friend. Janice was standing rigid, hands clenched, gripping the table. Carol could hear her friend muttering, repeating the words over and over “I want to be a prostitute. I love being a prostitute. I love it when men use me, sexually.”

Carol wanted to look back at what was happening outside. The only thing she wanted more was to find a man, maybe two men, and be a whore for them. But she wouldn’t, she couldn’t. She knew that she had to put some limits on herself or she would never escape this. What was happening out there, that wasn’t her, she could never let it be her. Somewhere, she knew, she still had some pride, some self-respect. She had to escape what Copeland had done to her.

Not letting herself look back Carol grabbed Janice’s arm and dragged her friend away. It was one of the hardest things that she’d ever done. The words echoed in her head and her pussy felt so empty. The temptation to go back, crawl on to another of the tables by the pool and offer herself to the men was so strong. She didn’t stop moving until they were out the front of the house, she couldn’t afford to.

She was heading down the driveway when Janice made her stop. Carol looked at her friend, worried that she might want to head back into the house. She was worrying over nothing, she realised, as Janice stood there and smiled at her.

“You’ve done it again, haven’t you?” The redhead suppressed a giggle as she finished her question, more than a hint of hysteria plain to Carol.

“Sorry, what?” Carol didn’t know what Janice was talking about. Her mind was in pieces, her friend’s fragility finding its reflection in her.

“Rescued me,” Janice smiled. “Dragged me away.”

Carol realised that Janice meant the time she’d taken the redhead from Copeland’s boat. This wasn’t quite so dramatic. Or as successful. Despite their reaction Carol didn’t think it would change much.

“We’re not going to stop though, are we?” Carol could hear the resignation in her own voice.

“Do you really want to?” There was uncertainty in Janice’s question. Carol wasn’t sure what it meant. Perhaps the redhead wanted Carol to stop, maybe Janice wanted to stop. Or maybe she was just afraid Carol would abandon her.

“Not yet,” Carol admitted. “But when Karen and Laura are free, then, well.” It hung in the air between the two women. Carol didn’t want to stop whoring, even now she felt the pull, the arousal, the helpless desire to give herself to any man who would pay. But the image of Ellie, the memory of what she’d done, ate at her. She knew that she had to stop soon, or she’d be lost forever.

“What about you?” Carol asked, worried about her friend.

“Yeah, I know but not yet. I can’t, not yet.” Carol saw a frown disappear from her friend’s face. “Nice to know we can say no though.”

“Yeah,” Carol agreed. Being able to refuse meant something, but she wasn’t sure what. She knew that she had to stop soon though, or she might never be able to. The smile on Ellie’s face as she joined them a few minutes later, the smell of sex hanging around the girl, only made Carol doubt her resolve even more.

It wasn’t easy telling Mrs Bowen that two men at a time wasn’t something they’d do. The madam looked at them, evaluating, thinking. Carol knew that one of the skills successful brothel owners had was knowing just how far to push a girl. And when to ease off and try again another time. Even when the madam agreed Carol knew it might not be the end of it. Mrs Bowen would do whatever she thought would make her the most money.

But for now Carol was safe enough. She’d said no to something, and that was important.

Even so her next meeting with Wainwright came too soon for Carol’s comfort. She was dreading that he’d order her out, force her to the decision before she was ready. The rational part of her mind said he wouldn’t, not yet. She’d persuaded him to let her stay until the girls were found. She needed whatever time she could get to prepare herself to walk away. Now it was the whore crying in her mind, refusing to give up. She was burying Carol in so many images that the brunette could almost taste the memories. Carol knew it was going to be hard.

Her worst fears, at least, weren’t realised. Wainwright didn’t repeat his demand that she quit the brothel. But he did tell her when the raid would be, a week from next Thursday. It was Friday now, so just less than two weeks. Carol felt her stomach lurch, it was sooner than she had expected. Part of her welcomed it. She wanted the last two girls found. Wanted the last of Copeland’s work undone. And if that thought ignored what had happened to her and Janice, then somehow that didn’t matter. Soon it would be over. Not soon enough for part of her, too soon for the rest. Despite Wainwright’s reservations she was sure about her information.

“You’d better be right Carol. If they’re not there, we’re both in trouble.” Wainwright said, shaking his head.

“They’re there. Trust me. I know.” She was sure. Sometimes your instincts tell you it’s just so. Carol had good instincts. Another part of what made her good at her job. Whatever that job happened to be, working out who was guilty or knowing what she should do to maintain her cover. Finely tuned over years of undercover assignments her instincts now worked to make her a good whore, let her know exactly what a man wanted. Her instincts told her the girls were in Conti’s place. But she didn’t like Wainwright’s plan. Conti’s brothel was too large, larger even than Mrs Bowen’s. “Biggest damn brothel in the city,” Wainwright had said when Carol broke through his obfuscations, admitting they couldn’t get any information on where in it the girls might be held. Carol didn’t think barrelling into the place was going to work, whatever the captain said.

“And don’t you go getting any funny ideas. I want you well away from the place.” His warning didn’t make her feel any better.

Carol had no intention of being there on the night of the raid. She knew that might be the last straw as far as the Wainwright was concerned. She tried to ignore the queasy unease she felt whenever she pictured what came after the rescue of the girls. She had a date now, a time. The future was rushing at her.

So when Mrs Bowen called her into her office again, Carol knew what night to avoid, what night her visit to Conti’s had to be before.

“Joe called me back. You’ll meet him a week from next Wednesday, made some excuse so I didn’t have to go myself. To be honest I’m curious. I doubt you’ll manage anything with those girls, but you might persuade Conti to help us get a better the deal from Patrick. I want to know how you do.”

Carol smiled, relieved. The date Mrs Bowen had given her was cutting it fine. It was only one day before the raid, so she’d have to be quick to get any information she found to Wainwright. But she could do it.

(To be continued)