She never knew how many men fucked her that day. All she could remember was the pain and the indignity - and, finally, her own total surrender...
Helena de Barrie was a stunning looking woman, aged in her mid thirties but appearing much younger. She was tall, blonde and obviously wealthy. Everything about her, make-up, jewellery, clothes and most of all, her bearing, was high class. More
She pulled the sable coat about her, wondering briefly how the girls nearby could bear the cold wearing such skimpy gear, then she went up the steps and entered through the dowdy doors, noting the uncleaned windows with distaste.
Facing her was a long corridor, drab and dirty, with tattered linoleum flooring and cream painted walls, which had long since faded to a dirty grey colour. At the far end was a lift. On one side ran a long counter and behind it was a scruffy, middle-aged man reading a magazine. He glanced at Helena and she saw his eyes widen but then he looked back at his magazine.
She walked towards him and stood in front of the counter as he studied the magazine without showing any sign that he knew she was there. The magazine was pornographic; a picture of a naked black girl lying back on a tartan rug, opening her legs to a white, straw haired male whose penis was erect.
With icy courtesy she introduced herself.
“I am Lady Helena de Barrie. I have an appointment with a Mr. Marcus.”
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