Sweetheart
Annabelle
Annabelle Stewart was nothing if not fortunate. Born from the wealthiest family in Summervale, beautiful, smart...she really had it all, and so of course she had to squander her good fortune on worrying over petty concerns. Just like a Disney princess, she longed for adventure, though unlike one, she was willing to look for it by herself. Oh, it wasn’t a burning desire, just a gentle but constant tugging towards danger and adrenaline. Throughout her teenage life, Annabelle had been content with smoking, mild, rich-kid partying, and flirting with a working-class biker boy or two. Or five.
But she was an adult now, and her desire for adventure had grown faster than her independence. She wasn’t entirely to blame—her hotel owner of a father already had a son poised to inherit the kingdom, and was content to let Annabelle live off the family’s wealth. Under no familial pressure whatsoever, Annabelle had made the standard choice of going to university for a while, but came back to her hometown after only one year, more on a whim than anything else. Since then, she hadn’t contributed anything of value to anyone, and nobody cared enough to berate her for it.
She knew perfectly well that she was, at best, a flighty young woman, but felt an odd mix of contentment and resignation about it. Some nights, when she was in her private room on the family hotel’s top floor, letting her thoughts run free, she figured that she had too sheltered an upbringing to really connect with other people.
She wasn’t some sort of isolated ingénue ; she had attended the town’s public school system. But her father, who very conspicuously owned most of the town, had never been a reserved man. Creighton Stewart was the kind of guy who could organize a celebratory feast in honor of Summervale’s 150th anniversary just so he could notify the entire population that they could see Annabelle all they wanted, he would never, ever give her hand in marriage to any of the townspeople.
And, indeed, that was exactly what happened, back when she was just sixteen. This day, the young woman learned that an entire town could feel awkward. She kept blushing in shame for two straight days, but her dad failed to see the problem. At least, there would be no misunderstandings, right? Well, while she resented him intensely at first, she came to realize that while his outburst might have killed any meaningful relationship, it made things very easy for a casual one. Boys knew the score—and going out with an attractive rich girl without having to think about commitment actually ended up being an easy sell. She grew flirty and well-versed in the art of making her sexuality open and accepted, if limited to the shallowest of levels. She could connect easily, but never genuinely.
Despite this screwed-up development, she knew better than to declare that her highly privileged life sucked. Her troubles weren’t anything more than some of the very first of first-world problems. Plus, Internet existed now, and she made friends there without any trouble. So she quietly accepted her place as a spoiled heiress with an idle lifestyle. At least she wasn’t pretending to be someone worth pointing a camera at.
Still, the call of adventure was growing louder with every day that passed. She passed a good deal of her ample time to ponder about her possibilities. Traveling was an obvious choice. Too obvious, perhaps. Marrying some kind of rich boy could do the trick, but would certainly stop being fun right after the wedding. Stage her own kidnapping? Been there, done that. Turned out Daddy wasn’t going to be fooled, though he did try to warm up to her a bit afterwards. Days passed, each equally as boring as the last. Still, she figured something would eventually happen if she kept roaming in the hotel lobby on busy evenings. And something did. It wasn’t exactly satisfying, though.
During some sort of fundraiser event held at the hotel, as she walked around looking at the boys and wondering what they’d be like naked, she happened to spot a person standing in the gardens outside. She would have thought nothing of it, as it was a summer night, if the person in question hadn’t been an elderly man carrying a framed painting at least as big as a standard TV screen. “Who is this guy?” She wondered. Was he supposed to deliver that painting? Curious, she went outside to greet him.
“Hello, Sir. Might I help you? This painting looks pretty heavy...”
“Oh, my, thanks young lady,” the old man replied in a wavering voice. “But I assure you, I can handle the frame. It is beautiful, isn’t it?”
The man was smiling, his near toothless mouth forming a dark crescent. Uneasy, Annabelle looked at the painting. It was a figurative oil painting, and wouldn’t have looked out of place in museum dedicated to the renaissance period. Impressive asthetics aside, it depicted some sort of old coutroom, with rows of chairs and a bench presiding in the background. All sorts of persons were sitting in the chairs. Women, men, children, elders...Even people dressed in old tattered robes and others dressed in fashionable modern outfits. Even more eerie, they were all looking behind them, towards the viewer. The bench, meanwhile, was vacant. Were they looking at the judge coming inside the room?
“Yes, I mean I’m no expert, but it is quite beautiful...What’s the title?”
“The title...I’m sorry, I have no idea, young lady.”
“Oh, it’s alright...” She smiled.
“But it’s a very special painting, you know? People don’t ever see it a second time in this world. Not ever...”
“Is...that so?”
“You know,” The old man continued, almost interrupting her, “you should never deny yourself. Especially when there are flowers on the walls.”
Annabelle blinked, and did her best to keep smiling.
“...Excuse me? What do you mean, sir?”
“Nothing is inevitable, if you make sure to look behind. If you don’t, though...” He abruptly stopped smiling. “You will see the painting...again.”
“Allll...right.” She blurted out, clearing her throat. This guy was contradicting himself now. “Well, if you’re sure you don’t need anything, I’ll just go back inside.”
She stepped back a bit, but the old man kept staring at her. Freaked out, she turned around and walked quickly back to the hotel. But just as her hand reached the door handle, she heard the croaky voice one last time.
“If you doubt, you will never see your twenty-seventh birthday.”
Clearly, it was mere rambling of a senile hold man. And indeed, she thought nothing of it at first. Still, her twenty-seventh birthday was less than two months away now. She wanted to believe this was mere coincidence, but those last words kept crawling in her mind. She didn’t want to lend any credence to this old coot ; but now, more than ever, she needed adventure. Her life was so bereft of anything interesting that she couldn’t help but dwell on the encounter. She had to do something, anything, to get his ill prediction out her head. Keep it from festering there, filling her with more irrational fears every passing day. Fortunately, a rumor began to spread just in time to get her mind off the nutcase’s portent.
“OMG Annie, did you hear?” Read an instant message from a casual online friend, six days after meeting crazy painting guy. “They say that the casino in the outskirts of Pleasant Springs is going to host a secret international meeting, like something super important! But it’s the middle of nowhere, how could this be?”
The wealthy girl chuckled upon reading the message. She knew exactly how it could be. Pleasant Springs was Summervale’s sister town, and her family’s hotel regularly threw celebrations for both cities’ officials. Celebrations that quickly turned into games of power behind closed doors. Making herself privy to those secret sessions had consistently been one of her favorite pastimes, and thus, she knew a lot more about this casino than any proper girl her age should.
The Queen of Diamonds could seem like a small countryside casino at first glance. In fact, that’s what it wanted people to think. But in reality, it was a luxury brothel. Spending time in the Queen’s inner sanctum was one of the preferred signs that you had truly attained power and wealth in either Summervale or Pleasant Springs. That said, Annabelle hadn’t quite suspected that the whorehouse had a reputation that could reach across oceans...But wouldn’t it exciting if the rumor was true? Her unassuming birthplace, secretly a seat of global power? As a wry smile was born on her lips, Annabelle knew she had her adventure. She was going to apply as a prostitute.
Everything about that plan brought the little princess no end of excitement. Being a slut wasn’t anything new to her per se, but she was still a virgin. Her boyfriends could never risk shagging her, but she made sure that they were plenty satisfied in other ways...And so far, none of her paramours had any complaints after being cared for by her skillful tongue. Annabelle had no doubts that she could, at least for a night, pass for a genuine whore to undersexed old businessmen. Just the idea of taking such a degrading job, and show her beautiful form to strangers was so delightfully new and exotic. And the whores themselves attracted her curiosity as well. What was it like to live by and for pleasure? To seek intimacy instead of being unable to go past third base?
And, last but not least, the Madame. One Helene Leroy, and a recurring name in the hotel’s secret meetings. Annabelle had never met her, but knew she had several powerful men by the balls. The ultimate femme fatale, with a squadron of fiercely loyal sexy girls under her heel. She remembered her dad’s business partner trying to turn one of the girls to his side and failing miserably. She kept laughing at the idea for days. All of this amounted to one fact—Annabelle absolutely couldn’t take Helene for a fool. Since going as herself was out of the question, she had to cook up a fake identity, and it had to be airtight. It was a high-end joint, and as such, they clearly wouldn’t take in any girl in mere account of her attractiveness.
Thus, the heiress spent days crafting her cover. She pulled strings to get in contact with brothels in New York, and carefully selected the ones that would fit best in the background of a Queen of Diamond’s girl. She wrote entire pages of life events and details, ready to satisfy any off-putting question the Madame might have. Annabelle giggled more than once at how naughty her own imagination could be, but it excited her all the more. She couldn’t wait to roleplay as this slut. She also took care of covering her tracks, by bribing one of her acquaintances from high school to organize an impromptu party she could fictionally attend.
When the night came, Annabelle took a revealing black cocktail dress, painted her lips scarlet red, put on some enticing eyeliner, a pair of high heel shoes, then went downtown and called a taxi there. During the whole cab ride, the young woman couldn’t help but smile. She really was going to work as a whore. In terms of “pissing daddy off”, you really couldn’t do much better. It was ridiculously not worth it, and it was perfect. When she saw Pleasant Springs’ welcoming sign, she did feel a slight pinch of worry and regret. But it vanished as soon as she realized that she hadn’t thought about the creepy old man at all.
The Queen of Diamonds looked pretty modest for a casino, but despite its log cabin style, its size and beautiful front garden looked like Vegas in this part of the country. Far from indicating some backwoods joint, the surrounding Douglas fir forest said “come on in, nobody’s going to see you”. Annabelle put on her best sultry smile, and strutted in. Inside, she saw nothing but what she expected—a modest row of slot machines, numerous roulette and black jack tables entertaining men in suits. Some she knew, some she didn’t. The dealers were mostly male, but she could see some attractive waitresses dressed in colorful, frilly corsets reminiscent of a card picture, long, thin gloves, and pantyhose. Even if you didn’t know about the casino’s brothel underside, those risqué outfit had to at least make you wonder.
As she walked in, strutting her stuff, one of the waitresses came to greet her.
“Hi, sugar. What can I get you?”
“Hmm...” She falsely hesitated, admiring her interlocutor’s sexy body. “An interview with the Madame?”
“Oooh...” Cooed the waitress with a hungry smile. “I think that can be arranged...If you know what you’re doing.”
“Don’t worry...” Smiled the adventurous heiress, swaying her chest. “I’m not here to tend bar...not that kind at least.”
“Oh, I think she’ll like you.”
With a simple sign of the hand, she instructed Annabelle to follow her. The young heiress let doors and hallways pass her by, uninterested in the layout of the place. Indeed, the only thing she noticed was the wallpaper, a rich, figurative floral pattern. Rather, she wouldn’t wait to meet the woman of power behind it. And when the waitress stopped by a decorated mahogany door, she knew her desire would be satisfied. One knock later, Annabelle was led into the most beautiful room she had ever seen. The hotel’s presidential suite was technically more furbished, decorated, and all-around impressive, but this room was more grandiose, passionate, powerful. The walls were similar to the hallways, though a bit less photorealistic. Great scarlet curtains covered each corner, and the chandelier was fit for a royal palace. There were no windows; in their stead were four richly framed oil paintings, all displaying scenes of magnificent depravity.
But for all its beauty, the room was just framework. There was no furniture to speak of, save for the centerpiece—The Madame’s gold-rimmed ebony desk. A single, elegant but simple, chair was in front of it, and behind it, in a golden throne, sat Helene Leroy. Clad in a dress even more elegant than Annabelle, and graced with the features of a Hollywood star, Helene radiated confidence and power. Her long, wavy auburn hair shined with the light of two candelabras framing her. She looked at the rich young girl with hypnotic green eyes, inspecting her curvy form from head to toe, then let out the smile of a predator.
“I do like a girl who listens to her desires. I assume you have a curriculum vitae, sweetheart?”
“Of course, ma’am.”
Annabelle reached for her purse and handed her an envelope. Helene delicately opened it, and perused the beautifully handwritten document.
“A manuscript is quite unusual...Don’t you have a computer, Harriet?”
“No ma’am.” Annabelle said demurely, biting her lower lip. “I think they’re...cold.”
“Oooh...So you’re an emotional one. You prefer genuine contact, do you?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Then we don’t need this...” Purred the procuress, slowly ripping the letter apart. “I want to hear about you through this pretty mouth of yours.”
The rich girl giggled and nodded. She had thought this might happen, but certainly didn’t find it the most likely. Helene Leroy definitely was an interesting woman.
“I’m Harriet Parker, and I’m a very naughty girl. I worked at Reilly’s club in Manhattan, and they told me I was ready for the Queen of Diamonds.”
“Is that so? What did Richard tell you about this place?”
“That it was a place of secrecy and passion...And commitment, as well. Also, the owner’s name is Harlan, not Richard.”
The madame only smiled in response, before continuing her questions.
“Why did you give up on virtue and started selling yourself?”
“Oh...Well, I guess it was meant to be. I’m an orphan, and I was easily tempted by some very bad people...I just let myself be reduced to prostitution.”
“You don’t regret it, do you?”
“No ma’am. After all, I am applying to another whorehouse...I guess I’m just that much of a nympho.”
“Harriet,” said Helen, leaning forward. “The Queen of Diamonds can make a girl very happy, but it has certain conditions not found in lesser establishments. Being in touch with your carnality is a start, but you have to be more than that...”
She got out of her throne and walked to Annabelle. The young woman felt slightly intimidated, but stood firm in her act, confident everything was going smoothly. The cute gasp she let out when perfect red fingernails caressed her cheek, however, was no acting. She did feel a shiver down her spine. One of excitement, not of dread. She had never even considered flirting with a woman before, but this single fleeting contact made a naughty picture flash in her mind’s eye. She almost retched at this thoroughly alien, unwanted desire, but managed to keep control of herself and remain impassible.
“This place is very special, sweetheart.” Continued Helene in a low, sensuous voice. “Harlan spoke of commitment. He was right. Girls here do not work for the money. They work here because it is where they belong. Oh, they’re paid, but they do not care. Because this place, outside of the worlds, between them...this place takes you in. You think you know what abandoning yourself to love feels like, Harriet? No...You don’t know anything.”
Helene walked behind Annabelle, and started stroking her stylish black hair. Part of the heiress wanted to chuckle at the madame’s dramatic speech, but somehow...she felt it was the pure, naked truth.
“You have been wading around the edges of true passion.” She whispered to her ear. “You submitted to the carnal desires of many men, but something always pulled you out. Lowly, practical concerns, regrets, maybe just passing distractions. But if you become one of my girls, sweetheart...you will not work for me. You will live for me.”
“Live...for you, ma’am?” Asked Annabelle, concerned.
“Oh, yes. My girls don’t decide. They don’t complain. They’re docile little sex kittens who will do everything they’re told, and like every moment of it. They don’t question or judge. Here, everything is pleasant and true. Here, everything is your deepest, hottest fantasy.”
The rich girl gulped. The Madame’s hands were wrapped around her waist, sensually stroking the thin fabric. The warmth of her fingers made her flesh quiver and her mind lose focus. What was going on? She wasn’t into girls.
“Do you think you can be one of them, sweetheart? Do you think you can be such a devoted little doll? If you want to be with the wealthiest and most powerful men in their most intimate, you have to be a reaaally good girl.”
“I...”
Annabelle choked. The interview was going well. She could taste the madame’s interest. Just a bit more, and she would be hired, just like she wanted! It was going according to plan...So why did she feel so lost? “Come on, Annabelle,” she thought, “get a grip. Of course it’s freaky, what did you expect? Just go with the flow and she won’t be the wiser.” She focused on what she had fantasized about Harriet. Annabelle was straight, and disturbed by Helene’s advances, but Harriet was very much interested. As long as she kept being Harriet, nothing would be weird.
“I am a good girl, ma’am.” She replied with a hint of breathiness in her voice. “Let me prove it...I want to be part of this beautiful place.”
“Of course you do...” Said Mrs. Leroy as her hands were slowly, tantalizingly working their way up to Annabelle’s chest. “You’re so naive and sweet...like an open diary filled with dirty secrets. Did you think you could hide anything from me?”
A sharp breath. A quickening heartbeat. Did she figure her out?
“The second you laid eyes on me, you fell deeply, hopelessly in love...Didn’t you?”
Oh, no, she was just completely delusional. Annabelle would have been relieved about that if Helene’s hands weren’t fondling her shapely breasts. “No!” She yelled inside. “Can’t freak out. I’m Harriet. Harriet’s a complete slut. Come on, almost there!”
“Yes ma’am...” She moaned in her best little girl voice. “I’m in love with you.”
“You’re such a honest girl, sweetheart...You’d love being my favorite little whore, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes ma’am...” This was ridiculous. “I want to be my boss’ favorite little whore.”
Helen laughed softly.
“Harriet, I know so many things about the female form. You fell in love just by looking at me. Just by being near me, you’re losing all control...If you go into my bed, you’ll walk out a changed girl.”
“Changed...how?”
“What’s this? You’re not afraid? You want to know?”
Annabelle felt the older woman turn her around, then pull her by the waist. The heiress could feel her body against hers, their chests brushing against each other. Her breath quickened. Confused, she felt her eyes drawn to Helene’s. They were so beautiful, the color of emeralds in the sun. Annabelle felt really funny. Conscious thought was more of an effort each passing second.
“Oh, but I thought Reilly’s club was strictly hetero, sweetheart...” Said the dominatrix in a playful tone. “Could it be...not even five minutes with me and a straight girl like you is already getting confused?”
The young woman didn’t know anymore. Was she talking to Harriet? Only Annabelle was listening, and it was Annabelle who, in a daze, answered.
“I...maybe?”
Helene smiled, and purred seductively, reaching for the lateral cut in the confused girl’s dress. She parted the black fabric with her hand, and, with a single finger, stroked Annabelle’s satin panties. The heiress shuddered and moaned, closing her lips in shame. “What was that?” She thought as soon as the emotion registered. “I’ve never been shy about pleasure...”
“My my, Harriet...You’re soaked down there.”
To Annabelle’s bewilderment, she held her finger against her nose. This was definitely her scent...She couldn’t believe it. That woman got her wet? She thought she could dismiss all the funny, fuzzy feelings as being confused, but this...?
“Oh, I like you, honey. You’re hired.”
Harriet?
The young girl shuddered, and heaved a relieved sigh. “Finally...” She thought. “I was going crazy at this rate.” When Helene took her hand, gently lending her to the desk and making her take a seat, Annabelle didn’t oppose a hint of resistance. She was still attempting to recollect her thoughts, relaxing her tense, quivering body in the comfy chair, when she saw Mrs. Leroy pushing a sheet of paper and a fountain pen to her end of the table.
“Just sign your full name here, and you’ll have what you came all the way from Manhattan for.”
Miss Stewart smiled. Yes, the interview had been a bit freaky, but she had made it. She managed to earn the unhinged procuress’s trust. She took the pen, and removed its cap. She knew she should read the contract, by pure principle, but she would be gone by morning anyway. She only gave it a cursory glance, saw something about room and clothes, and nothing about selling her kidneys to Mexico. Good enough. She almost wrote the “A” of Annabelle, but caught herself in time. Yeah, signing under her real name would have been the mistake of the century. With her best handwriting, she wrote “Harriet Parker”. She had just finished writing the final “R” that Helene leaned forward and slid back the contract toward herself. It was only at that moment that she noticed the paper was a bit strange, as if something reddish was drawn from the other side. Oh, well, it was in Mrs. Leroy’s hands now.
“Welcome to your new life, sweetheart.”
“Thank you ma’am...So, what happens now?”
“What happens now is that you’re going to follow Mindy. She’ll show you your new room.”
Mindy? Wondered Annabelle. She looked behind her, and realize that all this time, the hooker that guided her here had never left the room. The madame’s teasing had been bad enough, but the idea that Mindy had been there, watching, made her blush.
“Go,” ordered Helene with a cold tone. “I will summon you when it is time to break you in.”
The young Stewart girl raised an eyebrow. Surely she had meant “for you to break in”? But she didn’t have time to correct her new boss before she felt the gloved hand of the prostitute on her shoulders. The madame, already deep in paperwork, clearly wasn’t going to pay her further attention. Quietly, she got up, and followed her new colleague. They didn’t talk at all, which suited Annabelle just fine. She needed a breather, and she wasn’t going to get it by talking to a girl who saw her get nearly fingered. They didn’t have to walk a long time anyway. Just two turns in the dimly-lit hallways later, and Mindy stopped again.
“Here’s your room, sweetie. Relax, take a shower and get dressed, okay?”
“Sure, Mindy.”
“No problem.”
Annabelle looked down and smiled as she heard Mindy strutting away. At least Mindy seemed nice and normal...Ah, she couldn’t wait to lie down. She reached for the door handle, looked upwards again...and gasped.
The door plate read “Harriet”.
She took a few steps back, her hand covering her mouth, barely containing a scared whimper. What the hell? Annabelle looked around, but Mindy was gone. How in the name of God did they prepare the plate so quickly? And more importantly, why? The confused young woman stood there for almost a minute, going through every possible scenario in her head, but ultimately decided that this wasn’t doing her poor, aching feet any favors. Thus, she entered...and gasped again, though it stemmed of an entirely different emotion.
The room was gorgeous. It was very small compared to her room, but it had nearly as much furniture. It was very rich, very dense. It felt more intimate, like a little love nest...Which it ostensibly was. In the center stood a magnificent canopy bed with gaudy bedsheets and pillows, including a cute, laced, heart-shaped one. If she had any complaints about the room, it’s that it was a bit overwrought...But then again, this was all but fair game in a whorehouse. Just seconds ago, she had been freaking out, and now, she felt safe and comfortable in this boudoir.
“Annabelle, girl, your heart is being silly, you really should tell it to settle down.”
She decided to make herself at home, and joyously jumped on the bed. It was soft and springy, just the way she liked them. With great relief, she removed her high heels. She was used to wearing those, but she had never walked so much in them in her life. Granted, most of the distance had been in walking from the hotel to downtown Summervale, but it was always the last meters that got to you.
In a giggle, she took the heart-shaped pillow and hugged it. Now that she was finally left alone to think, she felt her confidence return. She was in! Now, she just had to indulge the madame a bit, make sure to act like a really good girl, and she would be given to the most high-rolling customer of the night for sure. Nearly one in three times she heard about the Queen of Diamonds at the hotel, they kept banging on about “the new girl”. Understandably, being the first at trying said new girl made the lucky man feel privileged...and carried a tad more prestige than being the first commenter on a funny video.
If the rumor was true, maybe she could see a VIP from overseas...Maybe a secretary of state from Europe or something! Annabelle shuddered in anticipation. She began thinking about possible candidates for the VIP customer. His nationality, at first, then his profession and wealth...but before long, her mind drifted on what he would want to do to his little whore. Because there was no escaping it...she was getting shagged tonight. She had signed—she was now a prostitute. Even if she escaped in the wee hours of the morning, she was, until then, a sex worker, and sex would no doubt be worked.
She imagined doing her best to satisfy her strong, powerful man of a customer with her usual tricks. Getting him all hot with some dirty talk...a private strip tease...and then, her pride and joy, the best blowjob you could get in Summervale. An artful tongue. Puppy eyes looking upwards. Sexy moans. Some balls action...Never the same thing more than five seconds in a row. A surefire recipe for a hot load and a dumb, relaxed smile...Except this time, the powerful customer wasn’t having it. He’d stay rock hard, call her a promising little whore, and throw her on the bed. Strip her naked.
“You’re a virgin...And still, you became a whore. You’ll be the biggest nympho in the world once you taste true pleasure...And you can’t wait, can you?”
“Yes...Harriet can’t wait...Fuck Harriet’s hungry pussy...Turn me into a true whore...”
Harriet bit her lip, all flustered, and began fantasizing about the customer’s big cock in her quivering slut-hole. It would be wrong, it would be the end of her life...and the beginning of a new one. The right life. Her true life, here in the Queen of Diamonds. She would be fucked, and she would become a true whore. And best of all...The Madame would be watching her descent into pure nymphomania. And when the customer walks away, off to his very important duties...the Madame would be proud of her. She would come into her room. Caressing her cheek, she would say...
“I knew you would fit here. You deserve a reward, Harriet...”
“Yes ma’am...” She would answer, still all quivering from her first, amazing sex. “I’ve been a good girl.”
“Oh, you’ve been more than that...You’ve been very cooperative.” Helene would purr, her perfect lips just a breath away. “I’ll barely need to change you at all. Truly, you were born to be here. Say you love me, sweetheart.”
“I...I love you, Ma’am. I love you...”
Harriet kept her delicious fantasy going. She was naked now, a hand caressing her yearning little clit while the other was rubbing a framed picture of her beloved Madame against her stiffening nipples. She truly was in love...The customer felt good, but her boss...Her boss could turn her into a mewling, horny mess just with this strong, emerald-eyed gaze...She wanted to please her, to be with her, to be her favorite little...
She froze up, and opened her eyes. Without thinking, the threw the Madame’s portrait away, and it landed softly on the velvety carpet. She was hot, out of breath, her right hand’s finger still coated in her own love juices.
“What...in the...actual...fuck?!”
Annabelle sprang out of bed, quickly undressed and, feeling unclean, ran to the bathroom, straight to the shower. She didn’t even wait for the water to warm up. She needed the chill. And indeed, the cold calmed her down...For a few minutes. To the heiress’ dread, she could still hear the echo of Leroy’s voice, even through the noise of running water. She fleetingly imagined her perfect, curvy body in the shower with her, appraising her, watching her knees tremble and her lips letting out lusty sighs. She couldn’t get those mesmerizing eyes out of her mind.
“I’m not in love.” She whimpered. “I’m not in love...”
Yet, she realized that she was keeping the water off her head to keep her hairdo and makeup intact. She wanted to look her best, and it wasn’t so she could play prostitute for rich old guys anymore. No...She wanted the Madame to praise her. Thinking about the cold, dismissive tone with which Helene last addressed her made the rich girl’s heart drop. Had she done something to displease her? No. Harriet had good credentials. She was an experienced little whore, one the Madame wanted in the gorgeous establishment she had dreamed about so much. She was sooo happy to be hired...so of course she signed like a good girl. Plus, Mrs. Leroy she said she wanted to break her in. Nothing was wrong, Harriet just couldn’t expect the Madame to pay attention only to her...It would be amazing, though...
Annabelle cut the water off. Something definitely wasn’t right. She wasn’t a lesbian, and she certainly wasn’t the kind of girl to fawn over someone just minutes after their first encounter. Not to mention that she was getting into Harriet’s character a little too well. She always took the lead in her relationships. Always. Yet, she felt submissive as hell. Maybe the bitch drugged her somehow. She didn’t drink anything, but it could be in the air...One thing was sure though. She was in over her head. That woman was putting her under her spell with frightening ease.
This wasn’t an exciting adventure anymore. This was dangerous.
“I have to get out of here.”
She took a towel and dried herself in a hurry, then stepped out of the bathroom...Only to be taken aback. The dress she had left on the bed had been replaced. Her colleagues must have barged in and swapped the outfits when she was busy freaking out in the shower.
“Damn, they could at least knock...”
It was, in all likelihood, her new uniform, but though it was every bit as skimpy as the others’, the color palette was completely different. Instead of primarily red and black, this dress was predominantly white, with just a few specks of red sprinkled in in the form of tiny ribbons and threads. The only “covering” parts were a bustier and an immodest thong. The rest were white, see-through facsimiles of clothing. It was, by all accounts, naughty, but still gave a dissonant aura of innocence.
“Must be customary for the new girl, I guess...”
Though Annabelle didn’t have much choice but to put it on, she began to wear the risqué outfit in earnest. It really wasn’t the time to be giddy, yet she couldn’t help but imagine the shocked reactions if she wore that at the hotel. Five minutes later, she was in front of the full-sized mirror, all smiles. The white and red palette fit perfectly with her jet black hair. She clearly looked like a whore now, but didn’t seem too vulgar. Just adorably naughty. She especially loved the push-up effect of the bustier. She eventually had to come down from her little cloud, though. Her dress was gone, and this one was extremely unsuited to any place outside of the brothel’s confines.
“Drat, I should have escaped right away instead of taking a shower...”
She opened the door, and checked both sides. Nobody. Good. They would come to summon her eventually, and she had to slip out in the interval. She thus began walking in the hallways, all natural-like, while still focusing all her senses. She heard no footsteps, but did hear the faint sound of chatter and giggling coming from the rooms. Sex, it seemed, was dispensed in the intimacy of the escorts’ rooms, rather than in one big orgy. She heard squeals, singing, whipping sounds...and throes of pleasure, of course. How many of her new colleagues were there? She wondered.
One thing was for sure, the hallways were designed to make one feel like in a labyrinth. Always the same figurative floral pattern, always the same lamps...If there wasn’t a hard ceiling above her head, Annabelle could feel herself as if roaming through a particularly well kept hedge maze. Only the occasional sulfurous painting broke the illusion. Her heart raced at seeing what they depicted. A roman orgy, a sapphic love triangle, women being ravished doggy-style by masked men...She hadn’t find the way back to the casino, but memorizing the paintings seemed like as good a way as any to get her bearings, so she kept looking at them. She could get used to this kind of painting. Maybe she could order one for her room? A giant-breasted, blonde slut lying lasciviously on a pink bed. A woman with a nun’s veil but otherwise naked, impaling herself on the erect shaft of a man out of frame. An old courtroom of sorts...this one wasn’t particularly erotic.
Annabelle stopped dead in her tracks.
“What the hell...?”
She turned around and stared at the painting.
“It’s...the one the old coot was carrying...”
There was no question. It was the same painting...Well, it was different, but only slightly. There was someone on the bench now. A judge in a powdered wig, who apparently just had brought his gavel down. There was a second difference...Under the frame, there was a title.
SEVERANCE CAME TO PASS
The young heiress didn’t even know which question to pick first. What the hell was it doing here? Why was it different? Was the zany old man linked to this place? And what did he say again? She felt so disoriented, she didn’t hear the prostitute step behind her. When she felt her gloved hand on her shoulder, she jumped and turned around. A mocking smile was on the whore’s painted lips.
“Come Annabelle, the madame is ready to introduce you to your new life.”
The bewildered girl let herself be pushed by the joy girl’s arm behind her neck. “Did...did she call me Annabelle?” She wondered, freaked out. “No, no, my imagination’s just playing tricks on me.” Yet, try as she might to rationalize it, she knew things were pretty far from okay. Moreover, the hooker’s grip was unnaturally, worryingly strong.
“I...I think I’d better go to the bathroom before seeing her...” She argued, trying to wriggle free.
“Too late for that, sweetheart.”
Her colleague wasn’t going to let her go on her own accord, and Annabelle just knew that he chances of escaping would go down dramatically if she saw the devilishly seductive Madame a second time. In a surge of adrenaline, Annabelle reached for the prostitute’s long curly hair and yanked down with all her strength. Disoriented, the hooker let go, and Miss Stewart ran to disappear inside the labyrinthine corridors. She did her best to see the paintings ahead and steer away from the ones she already saw.
But as she ran, as far as the fastest pace on her high heels could be called running anyway, doubt entered her mind. The brothel’s network of private rooms couldn’t possibly be so vast, could it? She certainly didn’t feel like minutes had passed when Mindy guided her to Leroy’s office...And yet, she was running, and running, and there was no end in sight.
Most worrying of all, maybe, was that nobody was after her. Surely a whorehouse employed security to keep the girls in line? She had straight up attacked somebody, for God’s sake. Yet, nothing. Not even a single sound aside from the omnipresent echoes of pleasure. She took that opportunity to catch her breath...And regretted it as soon as she raised her head again.
Sweetheart
Instead of a fork between three hallways, she was now under an open sky. She very nearly avoided falling down on her butt. There was no question anymore. She was either dreaming, heavily drugged...or no longer in this earthly world.
“You can try to fight me, Annabelle dear...But you really ought to dive right into the bliss.”
The Madame’s voice. Annabelle should have paid attention to it, yet her focus was all but absorbed by her surroundings. She was in the most beautiful of places. Flowery hedges framed a number of pools naught but a finger deep, separated by sinuous, grassy walkways. The shallow pools were flawlessly reflective, and the young woman could see herself, looking down, under an impossibly starry night sky. In the middle of those mirror-like pools stood a gazebo made of mahogany beams and see-through red curtains. Dozens of candles floating of lily pads bathed it in intimate light.
“What...is this place?” Cried Annabelle, dismayed by the undeniable awe in her heart. “Hell has no right being so beautiful.”
“Hell? If you were in the Ebony, you would open your pretty mouth only to scream.”
Under the gazebo was a bright red bed, and sitting on its edge was the seductive Madame. Two Queen of Diamonds girls slowly massaged her feet and shoulders. She was making a proud, victorious smile. The message was clear : I. Have. You.
“How do you even know my name?” Whimpered Annabelle. “Where did I go wrong?”
“Nowhere, darling. You came to the Queen under a fake name, just as fate dictated. The man from the Goldenrod tried to keep you away from me...But you ignored him. Such a good girl...”
Helene extended her hand, and invited Annabelle to come closer. To the poor girl’s dismay, she found her feet dragging her forward. Tears began to flow from her eyes.
“This can’t be real. I want to wake up.”
“In a sense, this isn’t real. This is...another color of existence, one arguably less tangible than the one you are familiar with. Well...were. Now you belong here, Sweetheart.” Purred the Madame, unconcerned by her plea. “The moment you gave up your real name, you gave yourself to the Crimson.”
She took a sheet of paper with her pretty manicured hands, and showed it to Annabelle. It was the contract.
“If only you had signed Annabelle Stewart, you would have found the way back to your world. By signing Harriet Parker, however, you left everything you are wide open. You’re one of my girls now...And mine to shape as I desire.”
“But...” Protested Annabelle, past denying the unreality at play, yet desperate to contradict the elated Madame. “I came here from my own accord.”
“Oh, but your will always was mine. I called you since you came to be. Your parents didn’t raise you. I did.”
“You...You’re talking nonsense.”
“I make my own sense, Sweetheart. Just like I make my own hussies. I’m sorry I let you believe you were being interviewed for the job...Nothing you are mattered, as long as you waived your name. I called you to the Crimson, you came, and you gave yourself to me.”
“But...why me? There are plenty beautiful girls in Summervale.”
Helene, if she even had a name, laughed.
“I own all of them just as I own you, Sweetheart. Summervale and Pleasant Springs are hotbeds of hidden passion. Always were...But it takes a special kind of girl to deserve the place I reserved for all these centuries. I takes you.”
“Reserved? Is...is this why my dress doesn’t look anything like the others?”
“My, aren’t you the smart one. Yes...I have all the whores I need to ensnare men from your realm, but you...you I wanted for the longest time. Sinful, yet pure. My virginal floozy. My Sweetheart.”
“No...I’m not the one you want.” She pleaded, her voice wavering. “Let me go. I want my Daddy.”
“You most definitely are. Right now you are terrified, but we both know what the prospect of becoming a whore isn’t the cause. Your wantonness is wasted on humanity, my dear. You deserve to rise above mortality and join me as a being of pure delight.”
Annabelle couldn’t contain her anguish. Her pretty features were contorted by fear, regret, and shame. She was in the clutches of a being beyond humanity or, indeed, reality. She ached to wake up, to be in her fluffy bed again, in the Hotel’s safe cocoon, under Daddy’s protection. Yet she was here...And what does hope mean in a world that makes you crave for everything in it?
“What are you?!” Cried Annabelle in despair. “What is Sweetheart?!”
“He he he...So curious. So eager. I can’t expect anything less from her ideal soil. Her twisted purity is in you. It merely has to bloom. Once all your human concerns pop up, like bubbles in your mind, you’ll realize this is what you always wanted. And before the end of the decade, you’ll be a legend around here. A mere mention of your name will leave girls in awe. Wet. Wanting...Desperate for each other. And should they catch a glimpse of you in their dreams...My, how sweet they’ll become.”
Despite her wishes, Annabelle felt a flicker of understanding. She knew, instinctively who -what- Sweetheart was, as if that knowledge had been breathed into her at birth. As if Helene’s will had always been dormant. As if she had only ever been Annabelle to warm the seat up. The Mistress of this domain stood up, and the girls tending to her wordlessly stopped doing so. She extended her arms to Annabelle, still walking against her will.
“Don’t fight now, honey. You can’t. You are out of reality. Out of time. Try to flee, and you will run forever. Try to die, and you will wake up. You can do anything, as long as it is surrendering to me. You will let me make love to you, and you will become Sweetheart.”
“No...no, please. I’m Annabelle. Let me go. Please. I don’t want to become like you. Please...”
“Hush, Sweetheart. Perish these thoughts and float into my embrace.”
Annabelle felt her internal cries of distress fading away. Her body longed for the Madame’s warmth. Her skin yearned for her caress. Her dwindling resistance was, she realized, nothing but a swan song. She was only a few steps away from the entity that cut her from the real world. She would be made love to...and she would walk away a changed girl. She tried to fight. She wanted so much for her feet to stop leading her to her own destruction...But her own heart already belonged to the seductress. She thought “No, no, no, I won’t change. I won’t change.” But she felt like changing. Where there should have been defiance, there was now curiosity and desire.
On the brink of complete and utter mindlessness, the young woman stopped right in front of the Madame. lost in newfound worship. Helene did nothing but look blindingly beautiful, and Annabelle absorbed her perfection, filling each and every cell in her body with impossibly intense, self destructive love. Her eyes fluttered, her mouth went agape, and her mind finished melting into a puddle of obedient, good girl thoughts. When the Madame put her hand on the back of her head, and pulled it towards her blindingly beautiful lips, Annabelle was no more.
“Time for you to be born, Sweetheart.”
The Madame joined her lips to the now mindless heiress, filling the poor girl with waves of warm, nurturing light. She could feel a strange, invisible vibration coming from the Madame’s lips. Like waves permeating Annabelle’s being, softening her, kneading her soul into formless girl-dough. The poor girl trembled, feeling the alien energy filling her mind like a deep red syrup, dissolving thoughts, memories and dreams.
Then, Annabelle’s melted thoughts were gathered, given a new form, bestowed with devotion and belonging. She recalled her first blowjob, and saw the stiff cock of Nelson Lloyd transforming into a cute, pink, delicious pussy. Her fantasies, her wet dreams, were changed by the deep, red energy into a galery of feminine forms. Unable to resist the red light that now came from her own soul, Annabelle was torn away from men and drowned in sapphic desire. She wanted to touch girls, share with them the warm buzz in her leaking crotch, meld with them in a perfect, sweet embrace.
She saw her high school friends become prostitutes, and instead of sitting with them in class, they were massaging her, caressing her, licking her in the soft lights of a boudoir. While she was being so deliciously serviced, one of the whores gave her the white and red dress. Annabelle saw her self-image, in countless, pricy dresses she wore all her life...And one by one, they were replaced by her uniform. The falsely candid dress became her sole companion. She always wore it. Always had worn it. Like her, it was innocent, yet slutty. It was part of her, and she was part of it. In Helene’s loving embrace, this new identity matured and grew from a small core of loving feelings into a fully realized, but thoroughly subjugated, personality. And with that...I was born.
Mistress looked at me, smiling, as if appraising a peerless work of art. She didn’t speak, and yet, I knew what to say.
“Mistress...”
“Who are you, Honey?”
“I’m Sweetheart.”
“Yes. Very nice.”
My Mistress lies down on the bed, and I join her. I can taste, feel the raw lust engulfing us. It is so strong, candles flicker around us, and up in the sky, I’m sure the stars do too. And then, just like Annabelle dreamed, Mistress caresses my cheek, and says...
“Say you love me, Sweetheart.”
“I love you, Mistress...so much. I’m so glad I let you claim me.”
Annabelle never uttered truer words, and certainly never felt happier. She’s me, and I am her. Both of us know that becoming Sweetheart, the lesbian Princess of Diamonds, was our blissful destiny. With her dainty hands, our Mistress unties a single knot in her dresses’ shoulder, and the veil falls down. Her full magnificence is revealed to me. I feel so honored. She needs not order me for my open lips to find their way to her teats. She made sure to replace the petty concerns I once found essential as Annabelle, like social manners, names and addresses, by her most intimate desires. I don’t know any details about my friends anymore, but I know Mistress likes me to suckle or her pink nipples. I forgot what the hotel was like, but I remember to always look into her eyes when I honor her pussy. Most of my family members’ names are gone to me, but the dirty words she likes me to say in a breathy, high-pitched voice are very much here, and so, so welcome.
Annabelle is gone from her world, but has been welcomed by the Crimson, as me. She no longer suffers petty pains. We live for, by, and within our Mistress. Her dazzling eyes blink, and I obey her silent order. I sit down, and my fingers make their way past my thong, to my virgin temple, and I rub myself. I gasp and moan...my new body is so much more sensitive. I am pure sex now. I could just keep masturbating, crying in bliss like the dirty slut I am, for days, months, eternity. I look human, but I’m like her now. An idea, an abstract entity assuming human form. She spent a lot of Crimson energy transforming Annabelle. The Queen of Diamond’s hookers only need a drop, but for us, she opened the valves...Just so she could have her fully devoted, virgin hussy, a vessel of never-ending Crimson energy. And she has. Oh, by the Delight she has. She is the queen, but I am her princess. Her nympho princess in a pretty, snow white dress with little drops of crimson.
I wonder why she changed me so much. Why she rose me above her stable of loyal hookers. I could have been one...I would have liked that. But she turned me into her immortal lesbian princess. Perhaps she wants me to do something else than service her...I wonder what it could be, but for now...Nothing but Mistress matters to me. Maybe, one day, she will let me out of the confines of my prison of absolute love.
As I orgasm, crying out her true name, I know I’m not in any hurry.