Below is part of a brothel scene from my book Regnants. Critiques in both structure and grammatical areas are welcome. Please this has been plucked from page 321 of the MS so alot of things are in the excerpt that have already been explained in the MS, but cannot be posted here due to space considerations. Thanks.
Above Bluefield, the Sun won a skirmish with the clouds, driving away the seasonal morning chill as it climbed to midday. The town burdened with the sheer volume of martial presence, was free of crime. The attributes of the military was hierarchal and order, but this doctrine was less apparent in the funhouses clustered on a back street by the Wall-don’s offices. Located in the centre of town, where cleanliness and conformity were rigidly enforced, they were recovering from the night’s usual spike in activity.
These funhouses lined on a road named happy valley, catered for every taste or vice as long as there was commensurate coin. Disposable coin not rank was the premier requirement: With so many soldiers milling about, adherence to rank existed but in a muted manner. Consequently, it was one of those places were the highest and the lowest in the military firmament intermingled. Based on the weight of a customer's purse, the establishments on offer ranged from the drearily tardy at the end of the road, to the grandly gilded close by the Wall-don’s backyard.
In one specific building, which was large, grand and outwardly significant, was an establishment placed in the upper echelons of this range. As was the norm of funhouses in the Imperium, although these establishments were ostensibly was always open, in reality, proper business started from the second hour after noon, when the comforters would have regained their strength and lustre from the previous day's exertions. As was generally known, the quality and quantity of merchandise was not high in these non-peak hours.
Most of the ladies were asleep as some sharp customers used the late night hours to engage weary or less successful girls for less price. As these girls usually operated to a set target, some customers used these wee hours to get relief at reduced prices. The difference between the peak times could reach to as much as four to ten times, as did the quality of service.
The mean-faced guard at the entrance was not averse to the tipping prevalent in daylight hours: a rare benefit of such duty. Once past its ornate door, with the ground floor activities closed, rugged and silent stairs led the visitor to the upper floors of this three-storey funhouse. Another demerit of daylight patronage: The unlit corridors were dark and dingy, masking the elaborate and erotic cravings and paintings on the walls. Each floor held about twenty ordinary comfort rooms and four superior ones, each having a semi-permanent resident, and containing a large room dominated by a large fluff-filled bed and a gauze-covered window.
In one large but ordinary comfort room, and under the climbing Sun, an amorous display was in place. One early visitor lay atop the occupant, doing his utmost to get his money's worth. Audible in the air was her endearments seasoned with obscenities, matched by his lustful groans.
A month had passed since his enlightening experience and the Legion had still not left its deployment area. From all indications, the required orders had not arrived and Emburmak was awaiting the reinforcement of at least two squads to his troop. In addition, although training was the norm, in meantime, Emburmak indulged.
Using the pretext of visiting Dalamis, he frequented the town, expanding his knowledge, until he stumbled on this high-class establishment. On his first visit he ran into the beautiful Derit, the moaning woman beneath him, who then gave him such a wonderful time. The contrast to the previous one was like a mountain and a gorge. There and then, he engaged her services, more than doubling the agreed fare in the process. Her face lit up even further, gladdening his heart.
This was easy!
While he was at it, he enlisted a course in the art of pleasure: He the student, she the tutor.
That was then this was now.
This was Emburmak's fifth visit since they had sealed their compact and he could now discern the merits or otherwise of her act. As he had belatedly realised, comfort workers were just that, workers. Majority of their performances were just work, so the cries, movements and clutches were all part of the act.
This was the third time he was taking her today, and as it reached midday, it was becoming hot and humid. The first two times he had followed her previous teaching meticulously, bringing her to the crest twice, but the third time he was after his own enjoyment. Due to his exertions, he was perspiring, muscles and joints arching, so foreplay was the last thing on his mind. What was on his mind was not entirely lust either.
It was a strange feeling that he was experiencing, a sort of hangover, for deep inside him, he knew that this was the last time he would grace her chamber. There would be no unburdening of his mind to her on this occasion, for it had emptied of the Amanda hurt. He had initially thought that relief was the lure but he had to concede, it was purely lust.
Derit had taught him all she could about pleasuring a woman. On this last intercourse, he felt she was back to the professional she was, mentally disassociated from the act while physically performing, with a healthy dose of talk. Finally, her verbal entreaties pushed him over the edge, and he climaxed, gripping her powerfully as she matched his cries and moans with fake repetitive ripostes.
Without giving him time to recover, she gently pushed him off. Her relief was evident as she got up. On a wooden cabinet of the sort called the 'chop box' in a corner of the room was a basin filled with cold water. He watched as she took a cloth from a group on a line overhead, dipped it in water and began cleaning herself. Shorn of his lust, he could see Derit as she really was.
Her white skin, and brown hair, he admittedly acknowledged, was a vague resemblance to Amanda. Both seemed blessed with smooth limbs, which crowned a good body. But the courtesan was taller and bigger in a sort of handsome hard-featured way. Moreover, the effects of her profession were beginning to show on Derit’s face or perhaps it was her lack of make-up.
He could not now be sure what had prompted him to offer to buy her time for the past month on the exchange she trained him in the art of pleasuring a woman.
Was it relief, revenge or lust?
At first, she had balked, but accepted when he explained it would only be on every fourth day, with him paying up front and her subject to tips. She had suggested the morning time as being more convenient.
His mind drifted back from their first meeting, and he watched as she dried off. She reached for her own clothes, wearing them with a practiced indifference to his watching eyes. Emburmak did not attempt to wear his clothes until she came to sit by him, in an unspoken attempt to get him to depart. Only then did he reach for his clothes, first checking the weight of his purse. Not that he thought it would be any lighter, but it always paid to be extra cautious.
"That was great my loving bull. You are so big, so strong. Phew! My insides are arching me!"
Her small talk, one of the secondary things to attract her to him, now sounded repetitive, empty and condescending. For the first time he really looked past her physical attributes, concluding she was a narrowly educated girl from some orphanage whom at most had a few more years in this profession, then what next?
If she were lucky, she would build a nest egg and 'purchase' a husband with the dowry. He did not see her as a house Madam or a petty roadside trader. He hoped he had done his bit to add the egg.
"This will be our last time."
"Why, do I tire you already?" Derit asked, the smile drying her face.
"We agreed on a brief. You impart your knowledge to me for favourable financial returns," Emburmak replied, looking away.
"You have learned, but are still in need of more training," Derit replied, a slight tremor in her voice.
"Is that your head talking or your greed?"
"You men are all the same." She replied, the sweetness in her voice gone, her amicable mask falling. She rose, anxious to be rid of him. He took his time to getting into his clothing.
"You are all the same." She said shrilly, sounding both petulant and haughty.
"I am sorry you feel this way."
"You can take that sorry and put it where the Sun don’t shine!"
"What has got into you? You knew what our agreement was," He replied exasperation evident in his tone.
"A girl enters such with a least a hope of something bigger."
"Like?"
"Every girl dreams of a charming saviour. I thought you were mine!"
"But you are a..."
"A whore? A prostitute? Do you think I like this work? Or do you think I took it by choice? You told me of your hurts. You think you are the only one who has ever been hurt?"
“I did not know you were hurt.”
“We all are!”
"I am sorry."
"Oh go away!"
Emburmak stumbled out.
Women!
He could never get a handle on them. One moment you thought you understood them, the next moment you were left even more befuddled than when you started. As he strolled out of the establishment, he took time to reflect. Purging his Amanda-related daemons had been the original reasons for patronising these girls.
However, he had come to realise that the workers were fruits cast away after use, just as Amanda had used him. Although their ordained ends would not be so drastic, he felt a certain disgust at his recent acts. True, the first woman in his life had handled him badly, but he was less than innocent with the third.
Above Bluefield, the Sun won a skirmish with the clouds, driving away the seasonal morning chill as it climbed to midday. The town burdened with the sheer volume of martial presence, was free of crime. The attributes of the military was hierarchal and order, but this doctrine was less apparent in the funhouses clustered on a back street by the Wall-don’s offices. Located in the centre of town, where cleanliness and conformity were rigidly enforced, they were recovering from the night’s usual spike in activity.
These funhouses lined on a road named happy valley, catered for every taste or vice as long as there was commensurate coin. Disposable coin not rank was the premier requirement: With so many soldiers milling about, adherence to rank existed but in a muted manner. Consequently, it was one of those places were the highest and the lowest in the military firmament intermingled. Based on the weight of a customer's purse, the establishments on offer ranged from the drearily tardy at the end of the road, to the grandly gilded close by the Wall-don’s backyard.
In one specific building, which was large, grand and outwardly significant, was an establishment placed in the upper echelons of this range. As was the norm of funhouses in the Imperium, although these establishments were ostensibly was always open, in reality, proper business started from the second hour after noon, when the comforters would have regained their strength and lustre from the previous day's exertions. As was generally known, the quality and quantity of merchandise was not high in these non-peak hours.
Most of the ladies were asleep as some sharp customers used the late night hours to engage weary or less successful girls for less price. As these girls usually operated to a set target, some customers used these wee hours to get relief at reduced prices. The difference between the peak times could reach to as much as four to ten times, as did the quality of service.
The mean-faced guard at the entrance was not averse to the tipping prevalent in daylight hours: a rare benefit of such duty. Once past its ornate door, with the ground floor activities closed, rugged and silent stairs led the visitor to the upper floors of this three-storey funhouse. Another demerit of daylight patronage: The unlit corridors were dark and dingy, masking the elaborate and erotic cravings and paintings on the walls. Each floor held about twenty ordinary comfort rooms and four superior ones, each having a semi-permanent resident, and containing a large room dominated by a large fluff-filled bed and a gauze-covered window.
In one large but ordinary comfort room, and under the climbing Sun, an amorous display was in place. One early visitor lay atop the occupant, doing his utmost to get his money's worth. Audible in the air was her endearments seasoned with obscenities, matched by his lustful groans.
A month had passed since his enlightening experience and the Legion had still not left its deployment area. From all indications, the required orders had not arrived and Emburmak was awaiting the reinforcement of at least two squads to his troop. In addition, although training was the norm, in meantime, Emburmak indulged.
Using the pretext of visiting Dalamis, he frequented the town, expanding his knowledge, until he stumbled on this high-class establishment. On his first visit he ran into the beautiful Derit, the moaning woman beneath him, who then gave him such a wonderful time. The contrast to the previous one was like a mountain and a gorge. There and then, he engaged her services, more than doubling the agreed fare in the process. Her face lit up even further, gladdening his heart.
This was easy!
While he was at it, he enlisted a course in the art of pleasure: He the student, she the tutor.
That was then this was now.
This was Emburmak's fifth visit since they had sealed their compact and he could now discern the merits or otherwise of her act. As he had belatedly realised, comfort workers were just that, workers. Majority of their performances were just work, so the cries, movements and clutches were all part of the act.
This was the third time he was taking her today, and as it reached midday, it was becoming hot and humid. The first two times he had followed her previous teaching meticulously, bringing her to the crest twice, but the third time he was after his own enjoyment. Due to his exertions, he was perspiring, muscles and joints arching, so foreplay was the last thing on his mind. What was on his mind was not entirely lust either.
It was a strange feeling that he was experiencing, a sort of hangover, for deep inside him, he knew that this was the last time he would grace her chamber. There would be no unburdening of his mind to her on this occasion, for it had emptied of the Amanda hurt. He had initially thought that relief was the lure but he had to concede, it was purely lust.
Derit had taught him all she could about pleasuring a woman. On this last intercourse, he felt she was back to the professional she was, mentally disassociated from the act while physically performing, with a healthy dose of talk. Finally, her verbal entreaties pushed him over the edge, and he climaxed, gripping her powerfully as she matched his cries and moans with fake repetitive ripostes.
Without giving him time to recover, she gently pushed him off. Her relief was evident as she got up. On a wooden cabinet of the sort called the 'chop box' in a corner of the room was a basin filled with cold water. He watched as she took a cloth from a group on a line overhead, dipped it in water and began cleaning herself. Shorn of his lust, he could see Derit as she really was.
Her white skin, and brown hair, he admittedly acknowledged, was a vague resemblance to Amanda. Both seemed blessed with smooth limbs, which crowned a good body. But the courtesan was taller and bigger in a sort of handsome hard-featured way. Moreover, the effects of her profession were beginning to show on Derit’s face or perhaps it was her lack of make-up.
He could not now be sure what had prompted him to offer to buy her time for the past month on the exchange she trained him in the art of pleasuring a woman.
Was it relief, revenge or lust?
At first, she had balked, but accepted when he explained it would only be on every fourth day, with him paying up front and her subject to tips. She had suggested the morning time as being more convenient.
His mind drifted back from their first meeting, and he watched as she dried off. She reached for her own clothes, wearing them with a practiced indifference to his watching eyes. Emburmak did not attempt to wear his clothes until she came to sit by him, in an unspoken attempt to get him to depart. Only then did he reach for his clothes, first checking the weight of his purse. Not that he thought it would be any lighter, but it always paid to be extra cautious.
"That was great my loving bull. You are so big, so strong. Phew! My insides are arching me!"
Her small talk, one of the secondary things to attract her to him, now sounded repetitive, empty and condescending. For the first time he really looked past her physical attributes, concluding she was a narrowly educated girl from some orphanage whom at most had a few more years in this profession, then what next?
If she were lucky, she would build a nest egg and 'purchase' a husband with the dowry. He did not see her as a house Madam or a petty roadside trader. He hoped he had done his bit to add the egg.
"This will be our last time."
"Why, do I tire you already?" Derit asked, the smile drying her face.
"We agreed on a brief. You impart your knowledge to me for favourable financial returns," Emburmak replied, looking away.
"You have learned, but are still in need of more training," Derit replied, a slight tremor in her voice.
"Is that your head talking or your greed?"
"You men are all the same." She replied, the sweetness in her voice gone, her amicable mask falling. She rose, anxious to be rid of him. He took his time to getting into his clothing.
"You are all the same." She said shrilly, sounding both petulant and haughty.
"I am sorry you feel this way."
"You can take that sorry and put it where the Sun don’t shine!"
"What has got into you? You knew what our agreement was," He replied exasperation evident in his tone.
"A girl enters such with a least a hope of something bigger."
"Like?"
"Every girl dreams of a charming saviour. I thought you were mine!"
"But you are a..."
"A whore? A prostitute? Do you think I like this work? Or do you think I took it by choice? You told me of your hurts. You think you are the only one who has ever been hurt?"
“I did not know you were hurt.”
“We all are!”
"I am sorry."
"Oh go away!"
Emburmak stumbled out.
Women!
He could never get a handle on them. One moment you thought you understood them, the next moment you were left even more befuddled than when you started. As he strolled out of the establishment, he took time to reflect. Purging his Amanda-related daemons had been the original reasons for patronising these girls.
However, he had come to realise that the workers were fruits cast away after use, just as Amanda had used him. Although their ordained ends would not be so drastic, he felt a certain disgust at his recent acts. True, the first woman in his life had handled him badly, but he was less than innocent with the third.
