Again he pushes his penis into my sloppy hole. “Oh, Maria,” he coos into my ear, trying to sound seductive. His hands cup my breasts and squeeze them- a bit too roughly- giving me a sudden flash of pain.


“Oh, Garret! Oh, fuck me! Oh, I love you so much, Garret!” I moan to him and press back against him, grinding my hips into his, mashing my mound into his unruly pubic hair.


Now, my name’s not Maria. It’s Amariel. And this human farm-boy is not the love of my life. But today, he’s paid enough money that I’ll call myself whatever he tells me to, and I’ll tell him exactly what he wants to hear. How he paid that fee on a farmer’s wage I’ll never know. But it’s not my job to know.


I wrap my legs around his knees, pulling him into me, slapping my wet lips against his balls, forcing his penis into me. Already I can feel his penis hardening and his breathing speeding up and up.


“M-M-Maria! I’m going to… going to finish!” He shouts, starting to shudder against me.


The first pulsations start against me and I moan, giving a good show of being delighted about him finishing so soon. “Cum in me with that big dick of yours!” I whisper into his ear, making him groan.


He pushes into me again with his not-so-big dick and I can’t help but notice the spurt of semen as it splashes into me, followed quickly by a few smaller rounds, splattering my insides. I smile a dazed-looking smile up at the man. He grins, apparently satisfied with his performance.


He pulls back, sliding out of me, and the spunk inside of me drips out after him, as if it would follow him home. He slowly puts his clothes back on, article by article, while watching me.


“Goodbye, Maria” he says softly before leaving. As the door clicks behind him, I realized that is is the closest anyone has ever come to loving me: he was in love with someone he was pretending I was.


Sliding to the edge of the bed, I wait a moment for most of the rest of his liquids to drip out of me. This finished, I put my robe back on, and start moving downstairs. It’s the best time of the week for me: hot bath time. We get to clean ourselves regularly, but once in a while we get to take a nice bath with warm water. In this case, it’s to get myself nice and clean before the next client of the day.


As I start down the second set of stairs, I take a moment to wonder who my next client would be. Or perhaps what my next client will be is a better thing to wonder, as I have the terrible fortune of being rented to some less-than humans. Orcs and Satyrs spring to mind, among others.


At the bottom of the stairs, in the basement of the brothel, I look at all of the doors. The first one- the best one- is mine. It’s something of a special room, both the biggest and the closest one to the clientele. It seems like it should be an honour, but it just means I’m expected to come running faster.


I pass it by, there’s nothing in there I need right now. I’ve got dried semen splattered in and around my vagina, and all I want is some water to soak in. So I pass all of the other rooms, living quarters of my fellow imprisoned women- slaves, all. At the end of the hall lies the bathing room. I open the door and almost smile. It’s the most pleasant room in the house- the only one where I can find any enjoyment.


The single copper basin sits in the middle of the room, with huge pots of water beside it. A third is already being heated over a low fire for the bath.


I dip a rag into one of the other pots and wipe the cloth against my vagina, trying to get most of the mess off. Fortunately, I’m not sore, and the rag feels nice against me, even if this one is just cool water. With most of the mess cleaned out and away, I throw the rag into a bin in the corner. One of us girls will have to wash this rag later, but for now it’s nice to pretend I don’t have responsibilities.


I lift one of the pots, filling the water basin partway up with cool water, before doing the same with the hot water. The steam fills the room, and I settle into the water, moaning- this time- in delight. Under the basin is a drain pipe, and beside the tub is the last interesting feature: a small table.


Today, the table has items on it beside the normal soap: three dildos of increasing sizes, and a bottle of lubricant. As I look at these items, I can just tell my day isn’t going to be getting much better.


The first dildo isn’t too bad, not much longer than my longest finger, and only a bit wider, not including the handle. The second one is only a bit longer, maybe another inch, but is wider by almost double. The third is even longer, and even wider! It’s going to be a long bath…


***


As the last of the water drains away, I stand up awkwardly. I’m not used to having things in my ass. Well, I am, but not while I walk.


Quickly sorting through the clothes I brought to change into, I take inventory of what I’m going to wear. A thin bra, nearly transparent; a little black thong, hardly more than a string at the back and only barely covering my front. A night gown, gauzy and translucent; and some tall shoes. To top it all off, I slip my still-wet hair into a nice style above my head.


By the time I finish dressing and checking myself over in the mirror to make sure I’m almost flawless, night has already rolled around. I glide, as gracefully as I can in these shoes, out of the bathroom and to the stairs. My boss and owner is already coming down the stairs, probably looking for me. I stand straight, making myself presentable, and look firmly at the ground, away from his eyes.


Standing before me he gives a gruff grunt, and gestures for me to gyrate. I spin a slow circle and he nods once. I’m passable.


“Special client tonight” he grunts. I’m not surprised by any of that: I always get the special clients, and he always grunts. “You’ll be meeting him outside, in the stables.”


The stables is an odd place to meet a client, but I’ve met them in odder places. I hardly ever have to leave the compound for a job. I hardly ever get to, either. I once had a client who insisted on having sex in a forest. Once we assured that there was someone making sure he wouldn’t steal me, it was a breeze.


“Yes, sir,” I tell him. Skittering past him, I make my way up the stairs. The old, familiar stairs.


I slip out the back door, and start towards the stables. Sparing a glance and a single thought towards the forest beyond the fence, I cross the yard to the horse pen.


Stepping into the doorway, I stand there a moment, feeling a cool breeze on my back. It’s not so cold in this barn. Quite warm, actually. The body heat from a lot of animals will do that.


“Ah-Amariel?” A low voice asks from near the back of the building.


“That’s me,” I say back, barely speaking more than a whisper. My eyes can easily pick out most of the details of the room- the horses shifting from foot to foot in their stables, the loft above me, the single ladder that leads to it. All of the details except the dark corner of the barn.


“Good,” the voice rumbles out of the corner, “I’ve been waiting. Come along.”


A nervous glance over my shoulder shows me what I already know: a long walk- or run- back to the main compound, and a lot of empty space between me and it. I sway my way forward, getting closer to the darkened area. My boss knows what he’s doing. And the sooner I get this out of the way, the sooner I can have this thing removed from my ass. Just thinking of the plug in my anus brings a twinge of discomfort. Each step I take, I can feel my anal walls rubbing against it. It’s a firm weight up where there shouldn’t be something pressing.


A shape forms against the blackness. Tall, imposing. And then he stands. He? It, maybe. The form becomes massive against the shadows, and I quickly start picking details about it out. The chest, first, above my eye level. Broad, muscular. Huge wide shoulders, covered in hair. My eyes carry downwards- definitely a HE! His penis is huge!