“Nice skin,” commented Polly, the youngest woman.
“Umm hmm,” murmured Jayne, “very firm and supple.”
Her stomach tightened. She fought the flare of humiliation that threatened to creep over her face with a betraying flush while the examiners continued to air comments like “soft,” “flawless,” and “beautiful.” Their probing hands continued to rove over her belly, down her back, and smooth over the curves of her buttocks and thighs.
Never had anyone touched her so intimately, except perhaps handsome Dr. Sinclair. His touch was much more pleasant and arousing. Effortlessly, when she least expected it, he had given her a taste of sweet oblivion. The thought of his warm, skilled fingers twisting and curling deep inside her, stroking her senseless, sent a familiar heat rushing over her skin.
She squeezed her eyes shut as unknown fingertips traced the ridge beneath her left breast. She imagined Dr. Sin’s probing hands descending down the slope of her back to the crease between her buttocks. Eager for his caressing touch, her body trembled, nipples puckered even more. As a hand moved closer to where her legs separated, an ache flared between her thighs. A sigh of longing escaped her parted lips.
“Ah, she likes her tits and ass played with,” said Polly, her tone evidently pleased by Cassie’s reaction to having her breasts fondled by another woman.
She gaped at Polly’s small hands possessively wrapped around her breasts, a lustful smile plastered on the young woman’s girlish face.
Jayne stood on Polly’s right. A lecherous sneer tilted her expression while she reached behind Cassie and separated her buttocks. Quickly, the middle-aged woman began to tease the forbidden back hole, sending a shocking flare of arousal up Cassie’s spine.
Appalled by her body’s undignified response, Cassie tried to restrain an external reaction to the women’s attempt at further degradation. Surely, Jayne and Polly did not derive pleasure from caressing her. It was only a job, right?
“Highly responsive, she’ll fit in well.” Polly’s fingers tugged on her nipples.
“Excellent! This one hasn’t missed a meal. Men want women with meat on their bones, full-sized breasts, and fleshy hips. Her belly is a bit flat, but she will do. Disease-free, we should try her out,” suggested Jayne to the old woman as her palms cupped the fullness of her buttocks.
“Take care of that furry shrub between her legs at once.” Madame pointed a critical, knotty finger between Cassie’s thighs. “Looks like a scruffy, red fox curled up on her lap.”
Cassie’s blood boiled with outrage. In the span of a few hours, enough hairy mounds in all sorts of colors, sizes, and degrees of bushiness to last a lifetime had danced in front of her. She glanced fleetingly at the light thatch of curls covering her mound, no hairier than any other woman’s seen today. Maybe the old hag had a thing against natural redheads.
“Send her to the baths immediately. Clean her up. Rid her body of all unwanted hair. Make her skin glow,” scoffed Madame de Vane contemptuously.
Cassie gritted her teeth. Her tongue itched to lash out. Not yet, she told herself. They would live to regret their dealings soon enough. Not until she validated her belief that demonstrated sexuality—more aptly, wantonness—was a product of coercion and not an inherited trait from one’s birth parents. More importantly, to establish her interest in the opposite sex was purely for reproductive purposes. Sex for the sake of sex itself held no real appeal. Her feelings for Dr. Sinclair—well, he simply sparked an interest, an opportunity to further her education, nothing more. When her studies completed, then and only then, she’d deal with every despicable, vulgar swine in the godforsaken bordello that apparently had decided to employ her in the oldest profession known to mankind.
“Turn, bend over with your hands on your knees, and spread your legs, dearie,” Jayne instructed softly. “Your limbs are well proportioned and breasts divine. For the sake of our clients, we perform our own inspection after the physician takes his peek. Our clients expect the finest. We must make certain you meet their corporeal preferences.”
With her head held high, Cassie twisted on her heels and did as instructed, sliding her feet far apart. She was vividly conscious the position granted the women complete access to her private parts.
Jayne immediately shoved a hand between Cassie’s thighs, stroking along the slippery lips of Cassie’s cunt while another set of female hands fondled her dangling breasts.
Repulsed to the core, Cassie fought the urge to scream in protest. Their touch was hardly clinical, far from pleasurable, and less than tolerable. Rather it was more like an unspeakable violation of her person, worse than when her stepfather inspected thoroughbred horses. When it came to examining grand studs, her stepfather’s touch was pure finesse, much more gentle and caring.
Unable to endure a moment longer, she straightened and huffed bitterly at Jayne, “With the way your cold fingers are prodding my vagina, there’ll be nothing left for the clients.” She faced Polly. “And you, Mademoiselle—surely my breasts are not the first you’ve seen. What do you gain from such a prolonged examination other than sating your own enjoyment?”
“Listen to her!” spat Jayne spitefully while Polly added tartly, “Who does she think she is?” The women drew back cautiously, their rigid expressions lined with animosity, seemingly put off by their normally unquestioned abuse of power.
“Be warned,” Madame replied angrily, “aside from modesty, men find defiance least favorable.” She made a few quick scratches on the pad before staring back at her. Without another word, Madame stood, walked around her desk, and stopped in front of Cassie.
Cassie wanted to scratch out the flicker of challenge in the woman’s eyes but held her tongue and nails in check.
Madame finally spoke. “Katherine McKinley no longer exists. You are a nameless servant of The Exchange. Servants merely obey. Do not utter a word unless a client grants permission. Speak unsolicited and you will find yourself tossed out on the street. If it were not for your remarkable emerald eyes, your plump derriere would be scraping the alley. Pray our wealthy clients appreciate diversity.”
Their eyes met.
“Even the best luxury brothels in all of France are inferior to us. Our membership fee alone is beyond a lifetime’s earnings. That is, unless you decide to indulge in the special services in which we are famous. Only then will you come close.”
Cassie cringed internally. She did not want to imagine what those “special services” entailed. Her voice, however, maintained the conviction of her veiled purpose. “Madame, since childhood, I have been aware of this unique establishment on some level. My ambition is not to act against a single rule or to cause disrespect to my family’s good name. Rather, I intend to make my presence known to every patron in a most astounding manner.”
“How fortunate since you are purely a vessel of pleasure. Who knows, you may experience an orgasm. Feigned or genuine, that is the only choice—entirely yours.”
End of Part 1: The Garden
To be continued in
Part 2: The Exchange
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Cruise, Samantha - Devil's Promise: The Garden [The Devil's Playground 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 14
