Pearl's Possession (The Red Petticoat Saloon) Page 2

  For a moment I wondered what it would be like to be joined to one or more of these men. To be whole and worthy enough for them to cherish me, and come to my bed for more than just my services. What would it be like to spend all night with them, tucked between two of their large bodies? To feel safe, protected, and, for the first time since my disastrous marriage, loved.

  I knew it could not be. I was not a whole or proper woman; my marriage had taught me that. I was not fit to be a wife. The most I could give was my body, an hour or a night of pleasure. My craven desires were too much for one man, and, at the same time, my love could never be enough.

  Brock was last. He kissed my lips, then my forehead in a tender gesture.

  "You're a gem, lass," he said. I smiled. I was a gem; I was one of Madame Jewel's gems now. If this was to be my life, night in and night out, I had no complaints.

  I wanted him to stay—to prolong the sweet moment. But this was the last minute I had with him—and I had to let him know what he meant to me. I was so tired, but I reached out, catching his arm so I could keep him close enough to hear my whisper.

  "Thank you," I sighed. "So much." And then I slept like the dead.

  Chapter Two

  Life as a gem wasn't so bad. I got my own room, which I decorated with filmy scarves I'd kept from that first night. Their bright colors hanging around me reminded me of the party, and the men who filled me to completion.

  Most of the day, I wore the red petticoats like all the gems who worked upstairs, but when I was alone or with a regular client, I lounged in white, gossamer gowns that made my pale skin glow like my namesake. I left my long hair unbound, and made sure I was clean and sweet smelling. There was a lovely bathing room downstairs and plenty of water to bathe, and I took advantage of this luxury. We earned our keep; at least, I certainly earned mine.

  I worked six days a week. While some of the ladies might complain about their customers, my patrons were my favorite things about the job. When I asked Madame Jewel when I was to entertain a party of five gentlemen again, she looked surprised, then her mouth curved in a knowing smile. I was disappointed when she told me there had not been a request for a party like that again.

  "One thing's for certain, Pearl, you'll fit right in."

  She was right. As one of her 'Gems', I quickly became popular and attracted regulars—men who came every week and paid for the pleasure of fucking me.

  First there was Cash. He was a steady, serious type, with dark hair and dark eyes and a close clipped beard. A gentle and attentive lover, he always made sure I received my release first. Sometimes the way he touched my body was too careful and methodical; I always wanted to make him lose control. If I teased him too far, he was quick to assert his dominance, and even pull me across his lap and spank me. The feel of his hard hand cracking down on my bottom cheeks, turning them red, had me gushing enough to soak his pants. He would chuckle at that, and then hold me down and take me hard.

  Cash came on Mondays. I think his first name was actually James, but he went by 'Cash.'

  The next was Samson, and I'm pretty sure that wasn't his real name, either, though it suited him perfectly, as he was a giant with longish, dirty blond hair. He came on Tuesday, and he was easily the largest man I'd ever seen. Tall and hulking, with muscles bunched under his clothes, he was supremely gentle with my body. I'd never had any man handle my curves and my body with such care, though his hands were so large I felt tiny next to them. He loved my soft breasts and dusky nipples, and could eat my pussy for what felt like hours. He had no qualms about putting his mouth on me, though one day he asked if he could shave the thatch of hair between my legs. He was so sweet, I agreed, and from then on he tended to my pussy every time he came. First he'd request hot water, wet my folds and lather them, and scrape away the hair with a straight razor. He was gentle and thorough, and would wash me clean afterwards and touch my smooth skin reverently before settling between my legs to cover the whole area with his hot mouth. By that point, he didn't need to lick very long before I exploded into his mouth.

  On Wednesday, Brock usually came—the only one I knew from that first night. He was broad and built, with coarse, reddish blond hair and an easy smile. The first week I opened the door to meet him and he said "hello, lass" in that beautiful brogue, I nearly came immediately. I drew him inside and barely spoke, so frantic was I to show him my ardor. But for a few orders to have me position myself the way he liked, he reciprocated in kind. In the end, I was so spent, I fell right to sleep, only to be woken in the middle of the night by the lusty Scot. Brock didn't come every week, but when he did, he often paid Madame Jewel so he could spend the whole night, though he was always gone by morning. We fucked and fucked and fell asleep in each other's arms. My only regret was that he never mentioned that first night, so I didn't either, once I remembered that I wasn't to know any of their names.

  As sweet as it was to lie the whole night with Brock, it made me long for what I could never have—a man to love and cherish me. I was petted and complimented, and, by the time a man left my bed, sated, at least for a little while. But I ached for more—a connection. Even though I didn't deserve it, I desired love.

  I asked Opal, one of the original gems, if she was satisfied with her life as a painted lady. We were in the kitchen in what Brock would call the wee hours of a Wednesday night, sneaking some of Nettie's cooking and chatting. My Wednesday regular hadn't come that night, and my body was missing him, which led to melancholy thoughts.

  "Of course. I like men," she said in her brazen way. "I like the way they smell, the feel of their muscles, and their nice, hard cocks. But most of all, I like being able to spend time with them without being beholden. My time and money is my own. I can enjoy sex and still be my own woman, not having a husband to make me come and go by his leave." She uncovered a pot Nettie had left to simmer and dipped a spoon in, blowing on the hot contents before tasting them. "Mmm, gumbo," she said, smacking her lips. "I don't know why you ask me, Pearl. You seem to enjoy your men well enough. Especially from the sounds I hear now and then when I pass your door."

  I flushed.

  "It's okay to like sex, you know. If you didn't, you'd be in pink petticoats instead of red; Jewel would make sure of it."

  I opened my mouth to rebut when a shadow fell over the pot.

  "Ladies," a man rumbled, and we both turned. The tall, broad form of Gabriel, our resident guardian and enforcer, loomed over us. "I don't think Nettie would appreciate you sneaking the food she made for tomorrow."

  "She'd appreciate it," Opal said cheekily. "She loves it when we enjoy her cooking. She'd just smack us with a handy wooden spoon and pretend to put up a fuss."

  Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "You're asking for a spanking."

  "Don't I know it," the gem said, but I took her hand and pulled her from the room. As much as Opal wouldn't mind getting her bottom warmed by the handsome disciplinarian, I wanted to continue the conversation.

  "I just don't know if I've chosen the right path."

  "Well, only you can know that, Pearl. Jewel didn't share about your past, but I know a man must have hurt you. I can guess. You seem sad, Pearl, even when you're happy. And there's no reason for it. You're beautiful and kind, and seem to love what you do."

  "I do love it."

  "Then I see no problem. Sex is natural. If it weren't, t'would not be pleasurable. I don't care what some fools say; women were built to give and receive pleasure. It's as natural as childbirth, and just as right."

  I quieted at the mention of bearing children, and Opal took my silence as worry. She thought I shared the common fear among painted ladies—getting pregnant before I wanted.

  "It's all right," she patted my hand. "Let's just get you some more rubbers."

  The conversation ended there. I didn't know how to tell her I didn't just like sex, I loved it. I wanted it day and night, and with many men. That made me the perfect gem. A whore in society's eyes, but here, at least I was respected.

/>   I still wanted more, I thought, as I climbed the stairs to my beautiful room. I wanted to be treasured. I wanted to be loved.

  In the meantime, I had to get some sleep. It was early on a Thursday, and soon my regular would be at my door.

  Thursday was Orion, a blue eyed, blond chap. He was lean and not as tall as any of my other regulars, but he knew just how to use his nice, long cock. I spent many moments on my knees between his legs, learning to kiss and suck his beautiful member just the way he liked. Eventually I could take him all the way down, no small feat because of his length. He could get hard just watching me suck his fingers. Other than my mouth, his favorite thing for me to do was straddle his cock and ride him. His narrow cock was so long, it hit very deep inside me and gave me intense, world-shaking orgasms. Then I would go to my knees to lick him clean and get him hard so he would do it again.

  Friday was Jonas' day. He was the most playful, and used the scarves sometimes to tie me up. His favorite position was me on all fours, my ass on display. He propped pillows around me so I could take his curved cock, and used the juices from my pussy to lubricate his finger and stick it in my asshole. One day he very respectfully asked if he could play with my bottom. I said yes, and he produced a jar of ointment especially for the purpose of oiling his fingers. He spent a long time with me over his lap, making me moan and writhe as he stimulated my naughtiest hole. Even though it felt strange, something about it being so dirty made me all the more excited. After he was satisfied, he put his mouth on my pussy and made me cum while his finger probed my back door. From then on, he put a finger in my bottom every time he made me cum, until I almost craved the dark stimulation.

  Weekends I worked but one day as the saloon was closed on Sunday, and the best part about it was usually one or more of my regulars showed up. Sometimes it was just one, but more often it was one right after the other: Cash and then Jonas, Samson then Orion. Brock rarely was around on weekends, but that made his arrival on Wednesday a special treat. I was getting fucked every weekday, and twice on Saturdays. Being fucked wasn't the same as being loved, but it was better than being alone.

  * * *

  Besides weekends, the men stuck to their days; other than Brock, who sometimes missed weeks, you could set a clock by their schedule. Which is why, when none of my regulars showed up one week, I knew something was wrong.

  I had spent a lovely time with Jonas on Saturday. The tanned man was wiry and muscular, and filled with boundless energy from the top of his curly head all the way to his semi-permanent hard on. I'd sucked and fucked him in a long, glorious session, taking breaks to lie across his lap while he played with my ass. He'd left so late, I'd spent all of Sunday in bed, rising early on Monday. I lounged all day in the parlor of the Red Petticoat, talking with the girls and eating Nettie's spicy gumbo, but then retreated to my colorful little cave to get ready for Cash. I wore the red petticoats of our brothel all day, but Madame Jewel allowed me to change into my signature white gowns when I was entertaining a regular. The dress was more of a night rail than a proper dress, and I usually wore it without anything underneath, so my men could see every inch of my pale body.

  Cash liked my hair neat and braided down my back. He and I often played games where he told me what to do, and if I disobeyed or got a detail wrong, he pulled me across his knee and spanked my bottom red. Once properly chastised, I'd suck him off and then climb onto his cock and ride it to my own reward.

  Once I was ready, I sat on my bed, my hands primly folded in my lap. Madame Jewel knew my regulars, and she sent them up, allowing me to wait in my room for him.

  I waited and waited, but Cash never came. Finally, body stiff and mind racing with worry, I crawled into bed and hugged a pillow, trying not to cry before I fell asleep.

  Tuesday, the same thing happened. For Samson, I left my hair unbound and waited. He did not come, and I allowed myself a few self-pitying sniffles before hugging a pillow and falling asleep.

  On Wednesday, Brock did not come. That was not unusual, but in light of the missing Monday and Tuesday men, I could not stem my worry. I drifted down to the parlor with the other girls, but my sober face and sad manner didn't attract any clients. I kept thinking about my regulars. Why hadn't they come? Had I displeased them in some way?

  The most troubling was how attached I had become to these men. I was supposed to be keeping heart away from my bedroom dealings. The pain of loss would be too great.

  When I asked Madame Jewel about my missing regulars, she shrugged. "It's their busy season. They might have business to attend to. But they paid for the night ahead of time, so you can relax and take some time off."

  I didn't know that they had paid in advance for me, and, though it was flattering, I didn't like that one bit. I didn't want to lie around and twirl my hair around my finger, I wanted to be filled and fucked. And not just by anyone—by Cash, and Samson, and all of my regulars. My body craved theirs.

  "You know, Pearl," Jewel said. "You might think about what you want to do with your money. You have quite a bit saved up." Madame took her cut from our earnings, of course, but she helped all the gems set up their own bank accounts and fill their coffers to do with as they wished. With the amount of work I'd done in the past few months, I now had a nest egg, though I often forgot about it.

  "What would I do with it?"

  She laughed. "Anything you like. Is there something you want? Something special? A dream you have for your life?"

  My dream of a husband and family could never be. I had come to terms with this best I could after my husband divorced me, and before I arrived at the Petticoat. Jewel hadn't asked for details, but I had told her enough she probably guessed.

  "I-I don't know."

  "Think about it, Pearl. You could buy a house or travel, or just stay here and save up until you retire a wealthy woman."

  I put my hand to my throat. The thought of leaving the brothel, even to retire, terrified me. Not the fact that I would have means to make my way, but that I would be alone. I could not marry again, and I would not shackle myself to a man, nor ensnare one I cared about into union with a woman who loved too much and not enough.

  She did bring up a point; one day I would have to retire and leave. What would I do then? I would be totally alone.

  "I don't mean to distress you. I just want you to be happy."

  "I am happy here."

  "I can tell." The lovely madame smiled. "You seem to be quite taken with some of your clients. Perhaps you have deeper feelings for one of them?"

  "No," I said. "That cannot be." I could not let myself fall in love. I had been careful. I enjoyed my men, but I hadn't fallen for them. Had I?

  In a tender gesture, Jewel reached for my hand. I kept to myself, mostly, but we were all a family here, with one crown Jewel to reign and mother over us all.

  "I know you've had some trials. It is hard to learn to trust again, when you feel betrayed."

  "I have been married before," I said. "I know I am not fit to be a wife."

  "You say that, Pearl. And when love comes to you, it may not look like a traditional marriage. But don't cut yourself off from what you want, just because you don't think you are worthy."

  I met her blue gaze, wondering how she'd guessed my most secret thoughts. I was not worthy to give and receive love. I was a wanton woman. Even if I opened myself up to feelings for a man, he would eventually reject me.

  Jewel went on. "A wise woman once told me that love is a gift. Everyone makes mistakes, but it is possible to learn from them. Don't be afraid of your feelings, Pearl. Love will make you strong."

  I thought about what she'd said late that night as I lay in my bed missing my men. I did have feelings for my clients, especially my regulars, but I knew I had to keep them in check. I could give freely, but if I loved, it would be too deeply, and lead to my ruin. I had started out a happy, young bride, and ended up cast out in disgrace to make a living lying on my back. It had turned out all right—this time. But I could
n't go through it again.

  Being a gem wouldn't be so bad. I would learn to accept pleasure in place of love. And speaking of pleasure…

  As I thought of my missing regulars, my fingers strayed between my legs, first at the thought of the stern Mr. Cash. My Monday regular was always dressed in black suits, the fine cloth brushed to perfection. All of my men made an effort to clean up for me, but Cash's presentation was by far the most fastidious. He kept his hair neat and his boots shined. I learned quickly that he liked things just so, and from the first day his dark eyes captured mine, I would do anything he asked. And he enjoyed ordering me about. With him, I wasn't allowed to climax without permission. He'd spent many an hour teaching me that, fingering me to the brink, and spanking me when I forgot to wait for his command. I learned to beg with my eyes and words, squirming on his hand until he gave the order and I came with such violence I almost passed out.

  Now, alone in my bed, touching myself felt good, but I couldn't push myself over the edge without Cash to give the word. It seemed my body knew its master.

  Next my thoughts turned to Samson, my gentle giant. The big man was all muscle and long blond hair, but he held my body as if I was truly a precious pearl. He loved my curves, spending hours caressing every inch of my skin until I was a puddle of desire.

  Closing my eyes, I imagined his huge, hulking presence leaning over me, big hands massaging my shoulders, back and buttocks as I purred with pleasure. One hand was large enough to circle my neck; two could span my waist. He used both, and his long, voracious tongue to rub and tease me into orgasm.

  I came hard thinking of him, but it did nothing to satisfy the throbbing ache of my loins. My body needed my men to touch and fill me. Huddling in the bed, hugging my pillow, I did cry, and prayed that next night Orion would come.

  On Thursday, I pretended like everything was normal and readied myself for my blond and blue-eyed regular.