Brain’s not been feeling great lately, so I spent most of the day lazing around and writing this instead of working on things that needed doing already. :B
Oh well, it’s hardcore a favorite “vibe” of mine that goes way back to my earliest smut days. I haven’t written anything in this vein in a long time, so I self-medicated with it lol. From the trans perspective, it’s interesting just how easy it was to shift from the sub/female POV in this kind of scenario to the dom/male POV. It’s almost as if I was subconsciously putting myself in the male position the whole time. Go figure lmao.
On that note, I really need to get better at naming stories.
The stranger gently tapped his booted heels against the mat as he entered the building, dingy exterior hiding a clean operation inside. It wouldn’t have been polite to track dirt.
“Welcome back, sir,” a woman said, appearing from behind a curtain somewhere in the over-furnished waiting room. She glided over and held out her hand, into which he set a pair of unholstered guns and an ugly knife. Anyone else asking him to disarm like this would have lost a customer, but he knew he could trust this place. Trust her. She took them with a polite thanks and handed them to a young man standing in the corner, who wordlessly rushed them out of the room.
She returned and sat herself down on a couch, looking very poised. Of course she did, though, Hara was the madame. “How were your travels?”
“Hard,” was all he said.
“A drink?”
“Yes, thank you.”
She reached into a table beside her and produced a bottle and two glasses, pouring a few fingers into each. She handed one to him.
“What brings you back to us this time?”
“A warm bath and a warm bed,” the stranger said, taking his time with the liquor. It tasted expensive.
Hara smiled at him, painted face showing delicate crow’s feet at the corners of her sharp eyes. She was neither young nor innocent, though it was difficult to guess how long she’d been in the business. “And how should you like your bed warmed, my tired friend?”
“I was hoping for a little inspiration.”
The woman set down her glass and clapped three times, loudly. Out from behind another curtain appeared eight young things, nervousness in their limbs and on their faces a mixture of excitement, apprehension, a little fear, a little lust. Eyes on some of them widened when they saw him, but no one said anything as they lined up at the far end of the room.
One young woman immediately caught his attention. She had a prosthetic in place of a leg missing from the knee down, and was the only one of the group who hadn’t looked at him at all.
“I’d like a virgin,” he said with a rumble, taking slow, languid steps closer as he sipped.
“You heard the man,” Hara said, and five of the eight excused themselves, some with relief and some with disappointment. The stranger hid a smile behind the glass. He’d have them next time.
Two girls and one boy were left standing, dressed in simple shifts of fabric thin enough to show the pebbling of nipples, and short enough to display three sets of creamy thighs.
The stranger looked back to Hara, who simply gestured with her hand. He set down his glass and stepped closer to the three rents. None of them stood taller than his shoulders, and the girl with the prosthetic was even shorter than that. He looked them over carefully, first from the front before circling around to the back. The young man he’d already decided against—there was a look of jumpiness in his eye that the stranger wasn’t in the mood for tonight—but slid his hand over one firm asscheek anyways, just to feel the boy shiver.
The other girl appeared willful. She kept her green eyes on him the entire time, swallowing her reaction when he thumbed a nipple through the fabric of her shift. Pride isn’t what he wanted tonight either. When he circled around one last time and came to stop in front of the shy girl, though, she still didn’t lift her eyes to meet him. He glanced down with her for a moment, to see what she might be looking at.
“Are my boots really that interesting?”
“N- I mean y-yes, sir.” She shut her eyes tight. “I mean…”
He smiled. “What’s your name?”
“Briar, sir.”
The stranger turned to Hara and nodded. The madame lifted elegantly away from the sofa to join them.
“Jenna, Caius, you’re excused. Go have dinner.”
The two left the same way they entered as Hara approached.
“Has she eaten?” the stranger asked.
“Not yet.”
“We’ll take our meals in my room.”
“Of course, sir. How long will you be staying?”
He looked back to the girl, watched the small movements of her face as he said, “Morning. Send us breakfast, too.”
She swallowed.
“That’ll be three-hundred fifty sheks.”
The man reached into a pocket and produced a cash stick while Hara produced the accompanying receiving device. He held one end to the small puck-shaped thing until a little green light flashed, and the transaction was complete.
The madame went to refill his glass before sending them on their way. “Room 4, Briar. And don’t forget what I told you about slicking up. You’ll need it with this guest.”
The girl nodded and pulled back a curtain to lead the way. The stranger picked up his pack and, though he knew where room 4 was, followed her down the dimly lit hall anyways.
And he wasn’t surprised to find that she didn’t want to make conversation like the more experienced rents did.
She opened the door to their room. It was a tidy, spartan space, furnished with little more than a bed, sideboard, changing screen, vidscreen, and photos on the walls of tasteful, elegant nudes. The stranger strode in and set his things down on the floor. As soon as he sat down on the bed, he realized that he was quite tired.
Briar stood awkwardly by the door, eyes still on her feet as though she were a servant waiting to be dismissed.
“Come here, Briar.”
She did as told, getting close enough for him to draw her in the rest of the way until she was standing between his spread knees.
“Look at me.”
It was the first time that their gaze met, and the man was pleased to find intelligence in her dark eyes. The fear was palpable, of course, but behind that there was so much more. He hoped to unwrap her tonight like a box of delicacies.
Her hands had been clasped in front of her nearly from the moment he saw her, so he gently grasped them and pulled them into his own.
“You’re cold,” he noted.
“I’m always cold, sir.”
“Have you kissed a man, yet?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.”
He stood up again, ducking his head down low to brush his lips against hers. With his right hand he still held her small, chilled hands in his, and with his left he cradled the back of her head. The first kiss was almost chaste so that he could gauge her reaction, then he deepened it, licking along her bottom lip until she opened for him. Much warmer on the inside, he thought as he slowly, methodically devoured her mouth before pulling away.
“What’s Hara told you about me?” He began to undress, starting with his belt and shirt.
Briar blinked and licked her lips, now red from attention. It took a second for her to gather herself. “Sh-she told me that you can be very rough.”
“Did she also tell you that I’ve never hurt any rent who didn’t want to be hurt?”
The girl looked as though his words didn’t make any sense. “I don’t…”
He didn’t feel like explaining the proclivities of both himself and a few of the usuals Hara employed. “How long have you been here?”
“Little less than a m-month, sir.”
The stranger nodded as he crossed the chamber to the small washroom where he started running the bath and finished with the rest of his undressing.
“Sir, i-if I can… ask you a question?” She called from the room.
“Sure.”
There was a short beat and then he heard her again, closer to the washroom this time, but she avoided the doorway. “Why did you pick me?”
The man kicked off his dusty pants and rose to stand naked where she could see him. Briar hadn’t expected this at all, and flinched when he suddenly appeared in the doorway, wide eyes darting down to his flaccid manhood first, and then after a moment, lower. The stranger wore a false leg much like hers.
“If they’ve said that no one would think you capable because of it, then I’d like to know who they are so I can spend a night with them too.”
Briar’s eyes snapped back up to his. There was a shadow of confusion on her face. “Who are you?” she murmured, hugging herself.
“You all are better off not knowing.” He turned back to the tub, about halfway full now, and stopped the water. “Are you joining me?”
There was a long pause. “Do I have to?”
“The bath? No.” He settled into the hot water and sighed out a week’s worth of hard work and sore muscles. “But you do have an obligation at some point tonight.”
He was matter-of-fact because to him, this was a matter of fact. She was a professional rendering a service to a client. A young, inexperienced, and very human professional, granted, but a professional nonetheless. And as a professional himself, he saw it as a matter of integrity that she should hold up her end of the bargain.
The stranger, though, wasn’t expecting her to get in the water with him. The bath was a closely confined space, probably far too intimate an opener. Leaning back and closing his eyes, he thought of other ways to loosen her up after dinner.
It was a several long minutes before he heard her pad closer, though, and with honest surprise he turned to see her standing on the threshold.
“Does yours itch sometimes?” she asked nervously.
“After a long day.” The man watched Briar moisten her lips and decided to continue. “Many years ago I was part of a strike force for the fleet. My team and I were clearing a path through a minefield out in the belt for some ships. At some point, I lost track of my horizon and started spinning. Foot hit a mine just hard enough to set it off. My suit melted, fused to the skin around my knee from the heat, which kept my air in and saved me. I would’ve suffocated in seconds, otherwise.”
He lifted his knee out of the water to show her the scarring at where the prosthetic met flesh. She gasped quietly.
“Did it hurt?”
“Afterwards it did.”
Briar sat down on the floor next to the tub, eyes drifting across his exposed skin now.
“You have a lot of scars…”
“I’ve seen a lot.”
She nodded quietly.
The stranger reached for a bar of soap and worked it up a lather that he rubbed onto his chest and shoulders. Then he dunked his head under, gave his hair and scalp a soapy scrub as well. When he was finished rinsing off his head, he noticed her stick her fingers in the tub and give the now-whitish water a little swish.
“If you want to wash up alone, I can leave.”
Briar thought about it for a minute, chewing on her lip. The man was about to make the decision for her and began to lift himself out of the tub when her hand shot out to his shoulder. He cocked a brow at her.
“If Hara found out that I… I had interrupted your bath so I could have my privacy…”
The stranger settled back down, rested his arms along the edge of the tub as she turned her back to him and trepidly lifted the shift over her head. She wore nothing else underneath—it was a rule of the house unless a client specified something else—except for the skin she was born in.
Briar folded her arms over her chest and squeezed her legs together, and when it was time to step over the high edge of the bathtub, she did so quickly and stiffly. There was a tangle of legs for a minute while she sat down, and her toe brushed against his still-soft cock as she decided to sit with her back to his chest.
It was an unexpected choice, though he suspected she felt less on ‘display’ this way.
The stranger let himself enjoy the feeling of her soft skin against his harder chest and belly, the swell of her ass against his dick and balls. There was a lazy tingle in his loins—the evening had to start sometime.
“I wouldn’t have told her, you know,” he murmured.
“But I might have.”
There was a knock on the door suddenly, and Briar jumped in surprise. The stranger smirked.
“Come in,” he called out.
“Dinner, sir!” came a girl’s voice.
“Did Hara remind you to bring my usual drink?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Put it on the sideboard, then.”
There was the clinking of a tray, a shuffling, and the door closed again.
The stranger turned back to the girl in his lap. “Are you hungry?”
“Not yet,” she said meekly. “I still… need to wash up.”
He lathered up the bar of soap in his hands, then held it out for her to take. He started to carefully rub the lather around her neck and shoulders. When she seemed receptive to his touch, he let them wander below the water until a big hand came to rest on her belly, thumb rubbing along her navel.
“Don’t forget this.” He grabbed the wrist of her free hand and gently guided it down, down, until her fingers were trembling at the swell of her pubic bone in the murky water.
A thought then occurred to the man.
“Have you touched yourself before?”
Briar was stiff against him, breathing a little unsteady. “Yes,” she whispered.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” he said, matching her volume but making up for it with the rumble deep in his chest. “I’d like you clean inside and out, then.”
Keeping his hand on hers but avoiding touching her himself, he felt her delicate fingers disappear between her legs and begin to move. Briar sighed and another little jolt of heat made its way down to his hips.
The hand on her stomach stayed, and his other dipped down to palm at a breast. He felt its meager weight against his calloused skin, a perfect, silken globe. Right now it only existed for him to touch. The stranger brushed his long, rough fingers across a nipple, at which he felt the girl’s breath hitch in her throat.
She would have been able to feel the slow hardening of his length against her tailbone, though she might be ignoring it. Briar shifted a little, presumably to get better access. The hand on her belly slid down to cover hers between her legs.
“You’ll have better reach if you put your feet up on my thighs,” he suggested in a low voice, thrilled when she did so nervously. All he could see were the very tops of her knees sticking out of the water, parted as wide as they would go, and below, the murky shape of her arm making the smallest of movements.
The stranger massaged her other breast and began stroking the insides of her thighs, feeling her quicken her pace a little. Briar bit down on her lip but he could still hear the faint moan in her throat. She wasn’t long before he felt her body go rigid and jerk the slightest bit—a small orgasm for the small girl, and she whimpered to herself.
His cock flexed in response to this, firming up nicely against her. Briar put her legs down and settled back against him, still shivering. That’s when she realized that he was not quite so soft as before.
The girl turned to face him, pulling away. But she was unable to form words.
“Surely Hara’s told you all about the bodies of men?”
“In f-few words, sir. Said that every client was different. That I’d need to…”
The stranger heaved a gentle sigh, then braced his hands on the edge of the metal tub to stand and step out. Briar’s eyes locked once again onto the half-mast swaying between his legs, then the rest of him, dripping with water. The man reached for a towel and dried off some before wrapping it around his waist. The bulge was still plain through the soft terrycloth.
He grabbed a second and held it out for her. “Let’s continue this after dinner, Briar.”
Leaving her to finish her business in the washroom, the man went to investigate the food brought for them. The dainty glass from earlier he picked up and finished off to make room for the contents of the bottle, a rare wine from a faraway place, distinctly black in color. He lifted a cloche and the aroma of braised meat and vegetables with a hunk of fresh bread greeted him. The stranger was famished, and began to eat where he stood.
He was halfway through with his plate when Briar emerged from the bathroom, towel wrapped tightly around her chest.
“Everything alright?” he asked as he poured her a glass of wine and pressed it into her hand. She looked surprised.
“S-sir, I couldn’t. This is a three-year barteb!”
“Your client insists.”
Briar took a very small sip. Then another.
“And he wants to know what you think.”
She looked sheepishly down into her drink. “I think my client has good taste.”
Smiling, he stepped over to kiss her on the mouth. “That he does.” She turned red again, and he was satisfied.
The stranger brought the tray over to the bed, setting it down, then followed with his glass from the sideboard. She removed the cloche from her plate and began to eat also, trying to do so as cleanly and femininely as possible. The man reclined opposite the tray and began wiping up juices with the bread.
“Vidscreen on,” he declared, and part of the wall in front of them came to life with swirling colors. “Find us some timelapse footage of celestial bodies.”
Compiling, it said in the corner.
Then, the swirling colors were replaced by something very similar: slow pans of supernovae, technicolor dust clouds, the rings of far-flung planets, the shimmer of solar nurseries. It bathed them both in color as they ate in silence, and he noticed her gaze at the images with a kind of longing.
“You’ve never left this planet, have you?” he asked.
Briar shook her head. “I have too much debt here. I can’t afford to leave.”
He popped the last morsel of tender meat into his mouth. “You’ll find a way out.”
“You sound so sure, sir?”
“I am.”
Briar ate some more in silence, finished half her glass of barteb when he noticed a frown forming on her face. Whatever it was that kept her so long in the washroom, it was keeping her now.
“Sir,” she said quietly, not taking her eyes off the vidscreen. “You’re a mystery to all of us here, including Hara. But you’re not like the other men.” A pause as she gathered her thoughts. “Why do you use us?”
“I have needs like any other man.”
“But don’t you have a lover? A family?”
The stranger flicked his eyes up to her. She was looking at him now. “Only a sociopath would have a family while doing what I do. You may not know this, but I quite enjoy company, Briar. It just so happens that I have to pay for it these days.”
The girl swallowed nervously, still frowning. “Why do you need the company of a virgin?”
The liquor must’ve been getting to her.
“I don’t.” He took a long sip from his own cup. “Believe it or not, I’m trying to do you a favor.”
She looked at him, confused. But he wasn’t in the mood to explain himself. “You’ll understand by tomorrow. Now when you’re through with dinner, I’d like to see you naked again.”
The girl took her time, eating in silence, and even then wasn’t able to clear her plate. The man took the tray back to the sideboard and poured himself another glass of barteb. When he turned around, Briar was sitting in such a way that made her look guarded and closed. But perhaps she was just cold. The man tapped the thermostat by the door and the heat came on.
“Do you know what sex is, Briar?”
“Sir?”
“Do you know what sex is supposed to be?”
If she had an answer, she was doubting it now. “Sex is when people… someone touches someone else, and they orgasm.”
He set his glass down and stepped over to the side of the bed. “But what is it supposed to be?”
“I-I don’t understand, sir?”
He gestured between them. “What is this?”
“We’re… talking?”
He pointed to the washroom. “And there?”
“We bathed together.”
“And what did you feel? What do you feel now?”
Briar searched his face for a clue. She wouldn’t find it there, though. “I think… you feel trustworthy.”
The stranger smiled a little, just the corner of his mouth, and nodded. “I’ll tell you something I’ve never told anyone before, Briar. And that is buying someone’s trust is better than having none at all.”
“Sir?”
“You asked about my leg.” He lifted it and set the glossy gray prosthetic onto the bed beside her. Higher quality than hers, but still a false leg. “The truth is that it itches like hell. Sometimes it even hurts. But it’s mine and I’ll be damned if I let anyone get in my way because of it.”
The girl shrunk away from him, eyes wide at the sudden emotion. But she didn’t recoil, not entirely.
The stranger crept up onto the bed, towel coming undone in the process, and he sat cross-legged beside her. Briar took a moment, but leaned in closer, hand tentatively outstretched. He was flaccid again, and knew that she wasn’t paying attention to that. What she did instead was brush her fingers along his leg, then up to the ugly scars around the stump above the knee.
“Mine hurts sometimes too,” Briar whispered. “I can’t tell anyone.”
“You can now.”
To be continued!