CHAPTER 1: Piper

Alexia did look hot, I’ll say that. Her curly, full-bodied, dark brown hair busted out from under the officer’s cap that sat at a slanted angle on her head. Her heavy makeup made her blue eyes huge and highlighted her sexiest features, including her full, luscious lips. The pale blue prison guard shirt she was wearing was hacked off ridiculously short, leaving barely enough material to cover her huge, dark nipples, and unbuttoned so low it barely qualified as a bikini, as it struggled to contain her huge fake tits. Her slim waist was tucked into the tiniest daisy dukes, so short that most of her firm, round butt was hanging out the back, and her long legs were covered by dark holdups. If all prison guards looked like here, no one would ever get time off for good behavior. This might have been fun, under different circumstances.

 

On the other hand, guys loved me for my natural, girl next door look. I could do sexy if I had to, but I’m usually required to be sweet. On this occasion, it didn’t matter, though. My long blonde hair was bound in a practical ponytail. My makeup was light so as not to detract from the streaks of mud smeared across my face. My blue denim shorts were just as tiny as Alexia’s but, with a little less ass than her, I fit them pretty good. My orange prisoner shirt was still tied up at the waist, giving me extra cleavage and displaying my toned stomach.

 

“Okay, ladies,” called Roland, an excited tremolo of anticipation in his voice. “Action!”

 

Alexia and I couldn’t help swapping a little smile. Being friends, this was going to be pretty awkward, but we had to put on a good show.

 

“Caught you, at last,” Alexia announced, standing over me as I tried to scramble backward along the floor, away from her. “Now, to take you back to jail!”

 

“Please, ma’am,” I tried to sound scared. “Just let me go, I’ll do anything you want!”

 

I was backed up against the wall but Alexia kept coming. She stood right over me, her crotch about an inch above my face. She squatted down, grabbed two handfuls of my shirt and pulled it apart, baring my breasts before her. Her eyes widened.

 

“Anything…?” she smiled.

 

***

 

Forty minutes later, we were in the shower. When you’ve just been as intimate with each other as we had, sharing some water and washing each other’s back is no big deal. And neither of us found it sexy, it was just a result of restricted time more than anything else.

 

Roland had taken his props and camera and left us in the room, which meant we only had about twenty minutes to clean the oil and lube off us before we would have to vacate.

 

“I didn’t hurt you, did I, Piper?” asked Alexia, her back to me as she rinsed the soap off her body under the jets. “With the nightstick? I tried to be gentle.”

 

“Don’t worry about it, baby,” I soothed her, “I’ve had worse.”

 

In spite of being only twenty-six, the majority of the girls at Madam X’s were younger and ended up looking to me for advice and guidance. Nearly five years I’d been there. That was about five times as long as most girls lasted.

 

At least Roland was an easy client. He just liked to watch. A short, fat little middle-aged guy who fancied himself as a Hollywood porn producer. He’d pay for his hour, have two or more girls dress up and act out his latest fantasy, video it, then go home and jerk off over it, I guessed. I had the impression he got at least as turned on writing these little scripts of his as he did watching the end products. But he paid well and was always nice to us. Better than some of them. Some of them were just sadistic assholes.

 

***

 

Speaking of which, no sooner had Alexia and I dried and got dressed into our tight little dresses and fuck-me heels, left and shut the door behind us, then I heard a piercing, sobbing scream from the room opposite.

 

The main corridor that ran through Madam X’s was in keeping with the archetypal décor found in most high-class brothels; thick red velvet carpet, more thick red velvet buttoned to the black walls, with gold accents everywhere. Regency porno chic, I called it. And it was the same on the second floor. Off each main corridor ran six rooms, each themed differently. The one Alexia and I left behind us was made up like a locker room at a gym or high school, hence the big shower, while the one opposite had everything in leopard print. Walls, four poster bed, chaise longue, soft furnishings, everything. Only now, it sounded like the girl inside it was in pain.

 

I looked up and down the corridor. Where the hell was Tony? That fat, chain-smoking biker was paid to keep us safe only, now, he was nowhere to be seen. I didn’t have time for this. Alexia and I were expected to be in the main lounge, finding ourselves some new clients.

 

The sobbing was still coming from behind the door which, when I tried it, was locked. Without thinking, I kicked it open, slamming the platform of my stripper shoe against it and splintering the frame, I forced the door to swing open. For once, I was happy Madam X liked to skimp on household maintenance.

 

April squealed when she saw me, as much as she could with some asshole’s hand around her throat, pinning her to the bed. He was quite good looking, actually, neat dark hair, well cared for skin, expensive suit hung over the armoire. However, his arm was raised, ready to strike and, from the look of the red mark on April’s cheek, not for the first time.

 

That pose always makes any man look ugly so, as his head turned towards the crash and he saw me striding towards him, I had no problem letting my fist fly, punching him hard in the mouth with enough force to send him rolling head over heels off the bed. I took another step forwards and kicked him as hard as I could in the junk, too, just to make sure he stayed down.

 

“Go get Tony and Anna,” I ordered Alexia, who nodded nervously and scurried off as fast as she could in nine-inch heels. I hit the panic button by the bed, as well. The jerk was shouting, swearing and groaning, but seemed content to lay on his side for a while, clutching himself in pain, so I helped April up. Her lip was split and there were red fingermarks on her neck, and I could see the black eye and welts starting to form on her face already, which meant she’d be unable to work for a week at least. That was never good news for a new girl here.

 

The poor thing was nineteen but looked closer to fifteen, which is probably why she attracted assholes like this. She was slim with dark hair, about five feet tall and totally unable to stand up for herself. This was the third time she’d had a bad client in the three months she’d been here. She sobbed as I held her to me, supporting her weight as we hobbled out the door when, suddenly, our way was blocked.

 

Anna Wong looked all class. A second generation immigrant from Hong Kong, the few fine lines around her dark brown eyes and bright red lips were the only indications to the years she had over the rest of us. She was about eight inches shorter than me in bare feet, an ex-prostitute that had worked her way up to become the mysterious Madam X. Her most distinguishing feature, to me at least, were her eyes. They were beautiful, yes, but cold. Inquisitive, calculating, and never smiling. Even when her entire face lit up with laughter, or took on the carefully constructed look of concern she reserved for listening to the troubles of her girls, her eyes never changed. They continued to regard the world with a vague contempt, as though she was always trying to turn any situation into another profitable transaction.

 

We hated each other, only continuing our professional relationship because I was her highest earner, and she represented my only opportunity for a ticket out of this life.

 

Those cynical eyes regarded me for a second before turning to April, and that mask of terribly empathic worry fell neatly into place.

 

“Darling little one,” she almost wept, “come here to me.” April moved away from me, towards Anna’s outstretched arms. Anna stopped her for a second, examining her face, and I saw a flash of frustration in Anna’s eyes, most likely at the time April was going to need off to heal, before she allowed her into her embrace. “Don’t cry. Go with Tony and let him find you some ice.”

 

Tony helped April away. Anna looked from me to the broken door jam, to the groaning client on the floor of the boudoir. “You need to be in the lobby,” she said to me, quietly.

 

“I’m on my way,” I replied, “once you tell me what you’re going to do with April.” I had a pretty good idea what she was going to say, but I still needed to hear it.

 

“That stupid little girl has had nearly a month off since she started. I’m not running a charity here,” Anna hissed back. Before I could respond, she went over to the guy on the floor and started sweet talking him. I couldn’t stay to listen, but I heard them as I walked away.

 

“I barely touched her!” the man’s voice whined. “That blonde’s a fucking psycho. I want my money back.”

 

“And I’ll gladly reimburse you. Our best clients are like family, Carter, dear. But would you be interested in a counter proposition…?”