He raised his blondish, reddish eyebrows. “Of course. Every major city has one. Isn’t there one in your, uh, Petersburg, whatever you call it?”
“No. We don’t have guilds there. Not for harlots or warriors or wizards.”
“Then you should go to the guild hall here. It could be useful. They are known to be very kind to those who are new to the profession. And they can provide a place of comfort on your travels, and a safe place to…ply your wares. I mean, should you ever choose to do so.”
“Hmm. Will you take me there?”
“Of course! When do you wish to leave?”
She stood, grabbing the biscuits off the plate. “How about now?”
……….
She was happy to have him as a guide through the winding, anarchic streets of Elsinore. The sights became sensory overload after just a few minutes and she would have found herself lost almost immediately. Creatures of dark and light mingled with humans, from lizard-folk to what looked like bears on their hind legs, their front paws strangely human, with long, thick fingers that allowed them to hold their clubs and shields. Little dwarves and even littler gnomes. Knights in glittering armor, resplendent in their disdain for everything around them, and toothless beggars pleading for aid. The shops were a mix of eating and drinking establishments, and items for the players of Brutalia, weapon shops and armories, horse stables and training establishments, jewelry shops, craft shops and bakeries. Orlando held her hand in the busiest streets. “If we get separated,” he called out to her over the noise of merchants hawking their wares, “meet me at the main gate, where you entered the city. Everyone knows where it is. Just ask.”
Made sense. It would be easy to get lost, but probably just as easy to work her way back to where she first entered Elsinore.
“And there it is.”
They had moved down a side street to a slightly more sedate neighborhood, one of large urban townhouses. A wooden sign above the door to an elegant house read “Harlot’s Guild.” Illustrating the sign was a voluptuous creature with the look of the 19th century courtesan about her, reclining on a divan and loosely attired in a diaphanous gown.
Orlando used the big brass doorknob. A tiny door in the larger door popped open, like something you would see in an old-fashioned speakeasy. An ugly bit of gray-green flesh and a huge, jaundiced eye appeared. A voice said, “State your business.”
“I am in the company of a young harlot who has not been to a guild yet,” Orlando said, gesturing to Tasha.
“She may enter. And what is your business?”
“My name is Sergeant Orlando, of the City Guard. My business is to have a drink at the bar while I wait until my young friend is finished here.”
The ogre gave Orlando’s uniform an appreciative glance and opened the door.
“Bar’s this way,” he said to Orlando. “Follow me. Liana will take care of the girl.”
They were in a large room, littered with sofas and divans, on several of which lolled hot-looking young women. One of them approached her. Liana was dressed much like Tasha, in the armor lingerie get-up of metallic bra and panties. Liana had more jewelry, though, an assortment of rings, a necklace, earrings, a hair-pin. She reached out and took Tasha by the hand.
“Please come with me. Guild Mother will make time for you.”
She met Orlando’s eyes as she left him, following the shapely buttocks of the young harlot. This game had to be a young man’s wet dream, she decided. Realistic looking babes…and if they actually had sex with you. Well. She imagined Brutalia must be the hottest game on the market.
Liana took her to a plush office and left her there with a mature matron who must be “guild mother.” The woman approached, smiling tenderly, and clasped Tasha to her considerable bosom. “Dear girl, I’m so glad you found us. It is a difficult life for a young harlot without a place to call her own, but I want you to know that you will always have a place here.”
The woman disengaged and the two gave each other the once-over. Guild Mother was dolled up in flaming red lingerie, a bustier and gartered stockings affair that showed off her tremendous assets – boobs and butt that wouldn’t quit. “I like your outfit, Guild Mother,” Tasha said.
The woman laughed gaily and said, “Please, call me Ruby.” The older woman ran a hand through her brilliant red hair. “And let us begin. Please take a look at our guild statement and offerings.”
She extended a scroll. When Tasha took it, a twinkle of lights engulfed her and she found herself surrounded by her inventory and character screens, and the unfurled scroll. She skimmed it, learned that she would be granted safe haven at all the harlot guilds in Brutalia, would have the opportunity to embark on quests from the guilds…and would be allowed to work and make money at any of them.
And by “work,” they meant…
Wow, Tasha thought. It was pretty explicit. A number of sex acts were listed, and the amount they paid. There were two tiers of payment, one for sex acts performed for NPCs, and the other for player characters. It paid a lot more for player characters. “Manipulation by Hand,” for instance, paid 5 gold coins (half a platinum coin) if performed for an NPC…but for a player, it paid 10 platinum pieces. And that was the least expensive thing on the menu. Accessing the exchange rate menu she saw that 10 “plat,” as the coins were called, was worth about 4 Euros. She glanced down it, seeing all the usual sex acts, and then some things she had never heard of and didn’t want to. Dear God, she thought. I escape a life of enforced prostitution at the hands of that slimeball Yuri in the real world, and now I’m stuck with it in virtual reality. Yuri’s cruelty, and sense of humor, was almost impressive in its perversity.
She wanted to vow that she would never work as a prostitute. She hadn’t done it willingly in real life, and she wouldn’t do it here. Not if she could help it. She opened the text screen, saw that it still cost 2 Euros to send a text message. That was about 6 platinum pieces. She glanced at the menu, saw that “All Night Girlfriend Experience With Player Character” paid…a lot. Oy. With an NPC, it paid 3 plat. She imagined shacking up with Sergeant Orlando for the night; there were worse fates.
And what would happen if she did contact Misha? They hadn’t met in person for almost two years, though they kept a casual friendship alive on Facebook. What could he do for her, anyway? Rescue her somehow? Contact the authorities? It would be something, at least. She would feel that she was making some kind of positive steps toward taking her life back, finding where her body was in the real world, just what the hell was going on.
If she was still alive in the real world.
The thought came to her like a bullet to the brain. What if she was dead, and what if her memories, her essential self, had been transferred somehow into this game, this fucking game where she was destined to be a whore for all eternity –
Stop that, she thought. You have no idea what exactly is going on yet. Deep breaths. And of course the deep breath she took felt just as real, just as familiar as if she were doing it with her real body.
She glanced at her inventory screen and saw that Guild Mother Ruby had given her a few items. A Ring of Enchantment that boosted her Charisma score by a point. A sexy cape that extended the duration of her invisibility spell. Some food and drink.
A telephone clanging sound went off and she saw that she had received a message. She opened it…and just as with his first message, a puff of smoke appeared and a fuzzy outline of Yuri’s ugly, rubbery face appeared.
“Hello little Tasha, having fun? Have you gotten to work yet? Like your new job?” He cackled like a damned movie villain and continued. “Just wanted to show you a little newspaper item you might find of interest.” Hovering above her appeared a news story from the Berliner Woche. Tasha’s German was basic, even worse than her English and French, which were barely passable, but it was obvious enough what it said. “Russian Girl Found Dead,” with a picture of her, one of the last photos taken, a modeling head shot that was on her Facebook page. “Selbstmo
rd,” it read. Suicide.
“So I really am dead?” she asked Yuri’s smoking, hovering visage. But of course he didn’t answer, as it was merely a prerecorded message.
I’m dead, or they somehow faked my death so no one will come looking for me…
Neither thought was particularly appealing.
But for now she was alive, in a fashion, in this strange world of online game-playing. And she had to figure out how to make some money.
She stepped out of the inventory screen and thanked Ruby for her gifts. “Are you ready to get to work, lovely girl?” the older woman asked her.
Slowly, Tasha nodded. “I think so.”
“Ah, very good! There are several potential customers waiting, and here at the Elsinore Harlot’s Guild you get to choose, my dear, rather than be the one chosen.”
“Thank you, Ruby, but I already know who I want.”
“Really?”
“Yes. The handsome soldier who brought me in. Sergeant Orlando.”
“Very good!” Guild Mother Ruby fell into a silent reverie, her eyes slowly rolling up in her head, then said, “He is apparently in our bar even now, sipping a glass of craft beer. Quite a handsome man, I must say.”
Ruby must have accessed a camera or something. She probably kept up on everything in her house. A sudden thought occurred to Tasha, and she blurted out her question before she could think. “Ruby, may I ask, are you human?”
The older woman’s black stiffened. “Of course I am! What do I look like to you, an ogre?”
“I mean…are you from here, an NPC, or are you from Earth? You know, the real world.” Ruby just glared at her. “I mean, real life… you know.”
Ruby shook her head. “Some of you young snips do go on and on about this ‘real world.’ Some new religious cult, I suppose.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Save your proselytizing for someone who’s interested, my dear. And go give your young soldier the best screw of his life.”
……….
The bar contained just that, a long slab of mahogany sanded and waxed to a fine sheen. Several males of various races stood at it, drinks in hand, chatting and eyeing the girls who lolled on comfortable settees against the wall. Sergeant Orlando was between a dwarf, who stood on a box to comfortably rest an elbow on the bar top, and an elf so black it shined purple, with pure white hair in corn rows. Orlando laughed at something the dark elf was saying.
All eyes turned to Tasha as she entered the room. She was still in her metallic lingerie, but now with the spiffy little cape wrapped around her shoulders. Before any of the others in the bar could approach her, Orlando was by her side with a proprietary hand on her upper arm. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
He looked down at her with such concern in his ice-blue eyes; that, and the manly aroma of a sturdy, virile soldier assailing her nostrils made her melt, almost literally, into his arms. He looked surprised but pleased as he wrapped his arms around her and leaned down to kiss her full on the lips. It was as real as anything Tasha had ever experienced. She remembered her term of philosophy when she had been in school, Descartes: I think, therefore I am.
The harlot avatar she was stuck inside felt, and it thought. Therefore it was. A surge of lust swept through her as she felt the hard chinks of his chain mail armor, and the hard biceps as his arms squeezed her. Catcalls erupted from the crowd in the bar, and one of the girls suggested they “get a room.”
Which is what they did.
……….
It was a nice enough room, a bit too 19th-century bordello meets 50 Shades of Gray for her taste, with the garish red wallpaper, the mirrors on the ceiling, and the assortment of “toys” on the rack against the wall. But when the door clicked shut and Orlando drove the bolt home, she felt safe for the first time in a long time. Certainly for the first time since she had been in the world of Brutalia. But also since long before that, as soon as she realized that her “modeling” job wasn’t about modeling, and that Yuri was no talent agent.
But now –
Orlando stared intently at her, a rapt expression on his face. She couldn’t tell if it was lust, or love. Maybe a bit of both. “Sergeant,” she said, “I’m sorry to turn into a working girl on you, but I’m desperate for money.”
His expression didn’t falter. “How much do you need?”
“Six platinum coins.”
He nodded slowly. “I can do that.” He jiggled the coin purse attached to his belt. “I have two plat and change on me, which I can give you tonight. I can get the rest from the bank on the morrow.”
“I know it’s a lot,” she said, not actually knowing if it was or wasn’t. Did he make that much in a day? A week…in a month? How did wages work for computer generated characters in this world, anyway? “But I’m prepared to give you a lot in return.”
The handsome soldier made a grunt in response, something like desire and joy, as though it came from the throat of a starving bear, and pulled her to him. He grabbed at her clothing, what little there was of it, the cape, the bra, the underwear, his hands all over her. It felt as real as the real world, calloused palms running over her smooth flesh, up over her breasts, full and jiggling, her nipples sensitive and erect, then a hand down her belly to between her legs, strong fingers sliding around her moist folds of flesh.
“Wow,” she said. “Just…wow.” Tasha fell back on the bed, giggling. “Take your clothes off, soldier-boy.”
It was a rather time-consuming affair, the removal of his helm and his chain mail, the leathers underneath, the thick undergarments, the laced-up boots. Entranced, she marveled at the realistic detail, the scars on his muscular body, the thick pelt of hair on his chest (but none on his back, she was pleased to note). The hard bedrock of muscle that was his belly, the powerful, defined thighs, like something sculpted by Michelangelo, and then, when it sprang into view, the full thick member that throbbed with a reality that seemed as much flesh and blood as anything she had ever known.
“Again…wow…”
He stood there, a big proud cock of the walk, literally, eyeing her smooth young flesh, her spraddled legs, the shaved smooth bit of pink between her thighs.
He climbed between those spread thighs and pushed himself against her, whispering down into her open lips, “I’m sorry, but this first time is going to be over a bit quickly…”
“Whatever you like, babe,” she whispered in return, happily giving herself to him.
At first she thought, Just like the real thing. Then she thought: Maybe better…
And then as he had promised, it was over with a heave and a grunt, sweat erupting on his face, his heavy body collapsing on her flesh form, a quivering mass of hard muscle and man-smell. “Jeez,” she said, “it has been a while.”
“Indeed,” he softly murmured. A big hand went to her hair, caressing it. “Indeed…”
“Just out of curiosity – how long has it been?”
He thought about that, his eyes dull with satiety. “I really can’t say. Many days. Months. Too many to recall.”
“Well,” she said, wrapping her arms and legs around his husky frame, “it was just great, Sergeant.”
“The next time will be even better. I promise you.”
He was still inside her, and she felt a throbbing in there as he came back to life. “I think the next time won’t be too far off,” she murmured into her ear.
“No.” He ran his hands from her breasts down to her buttocks, gripping her as he grew hard within her. “Not far off at all.”
He was right. The second time was better.
Much better.
……….
In the afterglow of their third bout of lovemaking as she dined on grapes and biscuits, her sweaty body entwined with her lover’s, Tasha pondered the tangible reality of the world she now inhabited. His breath as he napped, a warm brush against her skin, was as real as that of any lover she had known. His muscles were hard to the touch, yet as human as could be. The orgasm she had experienced �
� orgasms, actually – were as good as a girl could hope for, a mix of mindblowing and loving as he gazed down into her eyes, moaning his lust for her, gripping her tenderly but firmly, not letting her get away, no way…not that she wanted to.
The sheets on the bed were soft, wet now with their sweat and the juices of their lovemaking. The mirror on the ceiling showed a handsome young couple; she, a perfect 10 of a lingerie model, and him, a bit rough around the edges, with his bulky muscles and his scarred body, but chiseled features like a movie star.
Only one thing marred the perfection of this world: Tasha knew it wasn’t real.
As much as she enjoyed holding him, and had so completely enjoyed him taking her and enjoying her like a tender stallion, she knew he wasn’t a real person. There was no Sergeant Orlando of the City Guard of Elsinore. He was the creation of some geeky programmer somewhere, in Silicon Valley or South Korea or Mumbai, and the sleight of hand they used to make him seem real had more to do with state-of-the-art computer/human interfacing than anything else, she imagined.
Though she felt an undeniable tenderness for him, on some level she knew he was less real than the vibrator in her suitcase, wherever her suitcase was now. Which made her think: And where am I now? The real Tasha? Where is my body…?
Or was Yuri telling the truth, and I’m actually dead…?
But this digital body of smoke and mirrors was tired now, and her head, real or not, felt so good on his broad, muscular chest…and she fell deeply asleep.
He was up and dressed when she awoke. Dressed as in full uniform, chainmail and sword, visor and gloves. “Do you have to go to work?” she asked.
“No. Why?”
She gestured to his uniform. “You’re all…you know. Ready for battle.”
He glanced down at his garb, his handsome face momentarily confused. “This is how I dress,” he finally said. “When I go out.”
“Have you been out?”
“Out and back.” He tossed a bag of coins to her. She caught it and hefted it. “That’s your pay,” he said. “For two full nights.” His face split into a grin. “I assume you’re good for it.”
Bounty Harlot Page 4
