Original (Garik/some girl) [week 2 - prompt 7] Title: Dirtied Author:ketchupblood Rating: NC-17 Warnings: Het, smut, non-con Word Count: 1,500 Author's Notes: It's actually Saturday, but since I haven't slept yet I think it still counts as Friday. =P
2-7. every time I scratch my nails down someone else's back I hope you feel it
Aquarnor was the city of decadence, known not for any product it exports but for the services that rich young men could find nowhere else. When the conquerors of a decade ago had overrun the cities, they had put the nobles to death and put their mansions up for bid to their wealthy merchants and traders. Over time, those houses had been sold again and again until they landed in the hands of the masters and mistresses who owned the pleasure houses. Those houses were all on the same street, where those wealthy enough to spend a goodly amount for a good night but not wealthy enough to buy their own harem went.
Those houses were decorated with rich draperies and velvet and silk. Their decorations were marble and gold and jewels were carelessly inlaid everywhere. Some of the houses did this tastefully, others did not and looked merely garish. More than anything, though, it was the women who ornamented the houses that set them apart. Some houses openly displayed the women they offered through large, expensive windows. Others were discreetly tucked away—those tended to be the richer, more prosperous ones that needed no advertising. Many houses offered 'exotic' women, as most of their clients were Arlends, though some had Arlend women for those who traveled from far away. Some houses specialized in certain kinks, others spread themselves over as many different ones as they could. No two houses were alike, for that would defeat the purpose of a diverse pleasure center.
All of the houses, though, surrounded themselves with guards. Some had a moat dug out and a few even went so far as to keep a dragon to guard its treasures. These safeguards were more for show than for any practical use, for many of their patrons had come to associate the need for protection with power and power with wealth. The message was clear, whatever the true intent: they catered only to the wealthy.
There was not a city in the world, thought, that was not without poverty, and Aquarnor was no exception. The slums of Aquarnor held the same businesses as did its wealthiest districts, though the whorehouses there had no ornate decorations and very few guards, though there was no doubt in anyone's minds that they needed them more. There were no pretensions of wealth nor were there any freed women waiting to please. Even the most desperate of the peasants would not willingly sell their bodies in the filthy, cruel, wretched houses in the slums.
So it surprised people to see someone like Lord Garik in the poorest slums, though that could be passed off as a matter of business. Chasing after a criminal, perhaps, or avenging a friend. Even a service to the poor, strange though it might seem. Noblemen got strange ideas sometimes, after all, and it could be excused. When he walked into one of the whorehouses, though, people started talking. Very little in way of illegal business went on there and they were the one force, however pitiful, that supported the lower echelons of the economy. The tone of the whispers changed when he didn't come out for two hours. When he heard the rumors, Lord Garik ignored them, figuring that they would go away on their own.
And he was right. On his tenth visit, he was no longer an oddity to the people and they hardly spared him a glance. He glared at them contemptuously. Peasants should know better, after all, than to ignore one of greater importance than themselves. He would teach them, but later. For now, he had his pleasure to attend to.
He walked into the whore house that he had taken a liking to. The mistress here didn't care what he did with her girls so long as he left them breathing or, he supposed, he cleaned up afterwards. He had yet to test that and had little desire to. Blood was too difficult to clean and bodies too difficult to carry. The mistress greeted him as he walked in with a sneer and an extended hand. He took a few copper pieces from his wallet and tossed them at her. She fumbled with catching them and by the time she had the copper safely in her hands, he was already gone. She stood for a moment, thinking, and then bent to put her earnings into a small, locked trunk by the front table. He knew the way; there was no need to show him where the girls were kept.
When Garik got to the large room where the mistress kept all the girls, he noticed immediately that there was a new one. She curled in a corner and shook a little when he came in, but not nearly so much as some of the ones that he had already had. He smiled, a little vicious, and went immediately to her. She shrank away from him and tried to cover herself with the rags that the mistress gave to her girls to keep warm in—certainly not for modesty, for they very little. He wrapped his hand around her arm and pulled her up forcefully. "Come, girl. You're going to pleasure me, tonight."
She didn't answer; couldn't, he guessed, so he slapped her with his free hand. Not as hard as he could have, of course, but the slap was certainly more than enough to leave a mark. Another reason he preferred this whorehouse over others—the more expensive houses didn't like it when he left marks on their girls. "You should answer when I say something." He told her, his voice almost conversational. Or what 'conversational' would be if he normally conversed with his servants, at least.
"Y-yes sir." She stammered when she spoke and looked everywhere except at him. He slapped her again.
"Look at me when you speak."
She hesitantly met his eyes and he frowned and raised his hand. She immediately looked down. "Better." He says and then pulls her to the room the mistress had given to him for his use the third time he had come. It wasn't a very inviting room, only a hard wooden floor and a mattress thrown on the ground, the straw already coming out of it.
He threw her on the mattress and sat down next to her, his hand already navigating its way through her rags to find her still entirely dry pussy. "Are you a virgin?" He stuck a finger in and smirked as she winced.
She nodded then, remembering the earlier slap, answered, "Yes."
He made a pleased noise and took his finger out. There was no reason to make this easier for her, after all. He then moved his hand to her breast and fondled it while he lowered his head to the other and nibbled at her nipple and pushed his leggings away with the other hand. She half sobbed, half moaned and he lifted his head to send her a glare. "No noise." Then he lowered his head again and let his hand travel down to her lovely little ass and gave it a squeeze.
She covered her mouth to keep a surprised gasp in and Garik smiled. "Good girl." He crooned. "Since you're so good, I'll even make this easier for you, hmm?"
She looked at him, confused, and he let his hand travel to her pussy again, stroking at it and feeling a little wetness already formed. "Oh, you're enjoying this. What a little slut you are."
It didn't take him long to decide that she was wet enough because he didn't want her very wet to begin with and then he positioned himself. This time, he forced her to look in his eyes. She fought at first, and he hit her. Then he looked and realized that her eyes were a strange turquoise—she was an elf. Somehow, the thought made him feel giddy and the panic in those telltale eyes drove him over the edge and he took her.
It took more effort than it should have to force his way inside of her. Perhaps he should have excited her more, he realized, but it was too late now. A muffled scream escaped her and he hit her hard as he started to move inside of her.
It was excruciatingly perfect, the tremors of her body and the friction against his very hard cock. He came far quicker than he had meant to, spilling his seed somewhere inside of her. She shocked when it happened, then hopeful. She thought it was over.
It was, he realized. He was tired that day. It had been a long journey to Aquarnor and he wasn't in any sort of shape to take her more than once. A pity. He got up and wiped himself off and put his pants back on. "I'll come back for you later, dear." He said mockingly. Then he left, wondering which inn he had better stay at this time. The last time he had ended up going to one where they didn't provide hot water. Absolutely unacceptable.