After a night in the bunks where all the ladies not working slept I felt cramped. Stretching I could feel my back crack. “Alice’s would have been much more comfortable.” I looked around at all the women that I had grown up around. Many of them had aged out of being desirable for the average customer. Now they worked as seamstresses and occasional satisfying a request for a more mature bed warmer.
I unlocked my chest of clothes and dug through the tastefully destroyed dress. This one hadn’t been taken yet, but I doubted that it would survive this time. Lady Silverstein had always been a little drawn to keeping mementos. I still remember seeing some poor girls' maidenblood sheets cut out and kept. She did have quite the imagination with toys. And those destroyed the maidenhead just as much as any man would.
However, after one too many close calls and sending her playthings into girl’s finishing schools she had decided to instead find temporary services when she had her desires. Pulling the dress on I shifted it as it poorly fit on my body. The way it hung made it look like I hadn’t been able to afford a seamstress for weeks of hard labor.
But now it was time to make it smell like it had been lived in. I climbed all the way down into the basement and looked around at all the equipment my mother kept. When the most perverse came calling they would come down here and be dominated. I remembered the lessons well when I had been interested in taking over for her before I realized that of everyone, the Madame had the least chance to refuse her clients.
But there was enough room to run around and build up a sweat. I wouldn’t be able to do that out in the town without drawing far too much attention to me. Then I would sign up to shovel the alleys of trash, get nice and filthy by tonight. Silverstein liked the ‘aroma’ and washing it away. Stretching lightly before I started to run I could feel my muscles stretch deliciously as I pulled my leg above my head and leaned towards the wall. Maintaining the greatest of flexibility was important. It kept yourself from being hurt should a client want to put you on the rack.
Joggin started slow as I let my breath even out. Setting a pounding rhythm with my feet as I put together a list of all the things that my client would want tonight. It would be our third time together, she had plenty of experience by the time she came to Sweet Garden. However I learned quickly she hated being on the back foot. It was an adjustment after the many women I had been trained on, who all wanted to be flowers blooming to another’s ministrations.
I could feel the barest of sweat build on my skin on the tenth lap around the expansive basement. Pausing I stepped and did high knees, bringing them just high enough to avoid smacking my own breasts with them. Then popping down, doing push ups and popping back to my feet before continuing to do laps.
A lot of people think being a prostitute is a cushy job. Where you lay on your back and just let random men plow your fields as you make sure they were their wrappers. They just don’t realize that no one wants to be the one that does the work. Instead they like being treated like broncos being broken by a masterful rider. The bucking and pounding pace needed a lot more muscles than your average waifish woman.
Ten more laps I paused and started doing a wall sit. Setting my hands on my knees and emptying my mind except to focus on all the functions of my body. I could feel the burning in my legs building already. The pumping of my heart as it pushed my blood to flow. The beginnings of chafing on my nipples, an unfortunate consequence. I’d have to live through it. Two minutes later I was dripping sweat and could feel my underclothes clinging to me. Just a little longer until it started to soak into my outer layers and then I could call it good for the warmup.
One more set of laps before pushups and squats and I had soaked through my clothes. Two hours of stretching and working getting me nice and wet. I hoped when it dried it would give me the fragrance I was being asked to bring. But it was time to add onto it.
Tying my hair up in a ponytail I stepped out into the outside. The doors to the brothel closed as all the ladies lined up for their morning meal and checkup. I could see the apothecary with their contraceptive pills that had been mandated by my mother. We had been losing too many women to child bearing over the winter. Too many silly women thinking that could wrap a man around their finger with the promise of an heir. But they would all just end up as bastards.
I went through the town and found the street sweeper headquarters and stepped inside. I could see the distasteful glares from all the people inside as a woman walked amongst them. The foreman was sitting there looking at his roster of daily workers and grumbling about something. I’d have to convince him to let me work.
Clearing my throat I stood before him. Waiting for his eyes to leave the paper to look at me.
His gruff face, with its large bald plate on top leaving a half ring of hair from temple to temple around the back of his head. His eyes scanned me up and down before he rolled his eyes, “I don’t give women work.”
I slumped, putting as much dejected and pain in my voice. “Please sir. I need only a bit of coin. Would you really turn down someone that just wants to afford a meal tonight.”
Sighing he set down his ink pen and looked me up and down. My flushed face, sweaty appearance, and torn clothes painting someone truly pitiful before him. I hoped it let him look past the fact that my cheeks weren’t gaunt like a truly starved girl.
”It is filthy work girl. I don’t think you understand. The filth you will be putting up with might foul you so bad you won’t be able to eat tonight. I’m sure you can find something else.”
”I’ll do half rate, please, just enough for a meal.” I fell to my knees and held up my hands to him. As if praying to him as a god that controlled my fate for the day.
”Fine, half rate because you won’t be able to make as much progress as a man. Do you know how to read a map?”
I shook my head in a lie, “Just tell me the street names. I can ask and find those.”
Sighing he pinched his nose, “Go through fourth and eighth street. Going through the alleys, shovel all the shit and bring it to the drains to bring the filth into the sewers. Do that until noon and come back to me. The city doesn’t want us working into the evening when people are headed home.”
”I won’t let you down sir, a thousand blessings upon you. May your life be long and prosperous.” I scraped on the floor as he crossed his arm, unimpressed.
”Wheelbarrows and shovels are around back. Get your set and get out of my sight. I’ll check your work when you are done. If you don’t get enough of it, you won’t get paid.”
Running around back I didn’t want to lose the chance to get even a few more marks for the day. Forty was going to be plenty to last me the month but it didn’t hurt to make as much as I could.
Grabbing a shovel and wheelbarrow I jogged off as if excited to prove myself and earn my keep. You never knew when someone was going to want to check on you to make sure you are earning your keep.
…
Shoveling shit isn’t the most glamorous work. But I couldn't look down on it too much. It beat doing some things, and it required no education which costed an arm and a leg, your firstborn son, and your grandmother’s necklace to afford. It made my mother’s offer a little harder to turn down.
But the thought of some fat baron’s son waltzing in and demanding a night with me without a choice in it made my skin crawl. Maybe, MAYBE, I could accept a night with Prince Allguard. His cute little face pinned under my womanhood as I rode his tongue and played with what must be a small cock based on his codpiece didn’t sound so bad.
I felt the hard pinch of the clothes pin on my nose. Helping me not inhale the thousand unpleasant odors I was living through. It would be worth it. The Full Beggar had some upsides that many didn’t think about. Well, anyone without experience would turn their nose up at it.
I let the hem of my dress get the least foul of things on it and my shoes and socks were a total loss. Good thing I had poor quality things on hand just for these days. I was sweating in the heat of the alleys as the sun baked the filth and nearly turned my stomach for the third time of the day. They say that shit shovelers got used to the smell but I couldn’t imagine out that could be the truth.
By the sun’s zenith I truly had a pungency about me. I could almost see the waves of stink emanating from my clothes and body. I could feel my underclothes clinging to me in every nook and cranny of my body. It would take some work to peel me out of all this. Which was perfect. Just what was needed for tonight. Blowing out my cheeks I took the last load of shit to the sewer drain and dumped it down.
”Now to stew until tonight. There is no way Mother will let me stay at the brothel like this. I guess I could beg on the side of the street if I must.” Rolling my shoulders I returned the equipment, took my three marks for the day’s work and groveled like a truly grateful waif. Tucking the money into my tits I looked around and sighed. Time to kill in my hands.
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