'I'm afraid you are not able to hire Justine' Madame Sophie informed me, with a strange smile. This was unusual, I thought. Whenever business had brought me to Rio I'd looked in on the Maison Lys and either borrowed one of the girls for an evening or spent my time there. The place catered for all tastes, including my own, which were of an exotic nature not always available in the more common establishments. 'Not have Justine, Sophie?' I asked, slightly incredulously. 'In the catalogue she's advertised as available for every single activity - so what's the catch?'

Sophie was more than a professional acquaintance now. I'd been patronising her establishment for almost twenty years and had never had any problems here before. I always paid that little bit extra as of course the girls often needed time to recover after they'd performed the particular services I required of them. I'd never damaged the goods beyond repair and Sophie had done very well out of my custom over the years. To be denied this peach of a girl was annoying and I wanted to know why.

'It's a long story, Jacques' my hostess said.

I raised an eyebrow. 'Well, it appears I have a free evening' I said wryly. 'It's not simply a question of money I take it?'

Sophie smiled again. 'No indeed' she said. 'Justine is the cheapest whore on our books.'

Now this really was intriguing. What had attracted me to Justine in the first place was her ineffable air of class, of breeding. For all I knew she was a child of the Rio slums, but despite the high quality of the girls at Maison Lys, Justine outshone them all like a dark pearl in a precious setting. The gloss of her long dark hair, the huge almond eyes, her expression, proud and haughty, high but lavishly-full breasts, the large dark nipples of which pushed like huge cherries through the skimpy thin silk of her robe, the perfect line of her elegant legs balanced as if born to them on six inch spike heels... The sash that drew in the robe to an impossibly slender waist, the generous swell of her hips beneath.... as soon as I'd set eyes on her I'd felt the unmistakable stirrings of lust and also the desire to tame her arrogance, to bind those slender limbs, to raise deep red welts on that perfectly tanned-skin, to draw tears from the dark eyes and screams from the lusciously-full lips.... to see her body taut and racked with agony as I laid into her with the crop, the blows falling exactly, with metronome timing and perfect precision in beautiful parallel stripes across the golden flesh of her arse. My cock was stiff with anticipation and now she was to be denied to me? Surely not.

'Justine is a beauty' I said in surprise. 'I'd pay a fortune for a night with her'.
'Justine is here under a special contract' Sophie told me. 'She has been given to the house for six months by her husband in order to teach her some humility. We have strict instructions. How shall I say... only the lowest types may enjoy her favours, and to them she is given for small change. They are encouraged to treat her like the slut she is.'

This appealed to my imagination. I envied the man who owned Justine and approved his desire to see the proud beauty humbled. 'Tell me more' I said.

'By all means, Jacques' said Sophie. 'She is the wife of one of our foremost businessmen in fact. When he married her she was still a model and a successful one, but the life of a model is not long and Justine was coming to the end of hers. He is considerably older than her and very rich of course. It was not, shall we say, a marriage of love, but of convenience on both sides...'

As she spoke I sipped my drink and regarded Justine. She had noticed me looking and tossed her head with a disdainful expression on her face. Evidently she had yet to learn her proper station in life.

'How long has she been here?' I interjected.

'Two weeks' said Sophie. 'Ours is a high-class establishment as you know - ' I inclined my head respectfully - 'yet I have successfully procured men of the type her husband requires to avail themselves of the services Justine has to offer. In his turn I believe her husband has advertised her availability with the workforce of his industrial complex and there has been no shortage of men turning up to use her - ah, here is one of them now...'

I turned my head and saw Justine rise from the table where she had been sitting in the company of a short, stocky, casually-dressed fellow in his late fifties. As she accompanied him upstairs, she in her heels towered over him by a good eight inches. I smiled. How humiliating for her to have to fuck every last one of what were basically her own employees as often as any of them wished.

'There'll be no industrial unrest in her husband's empire then I take it' I commented.

'On the contrary' Sophie agreed. 'The stock has gone up eight per cent in the last week alone...'

'What did she do to make her husband turn her into the company whore?' I asked.

'Justine is a special case' said Sophie. 'She looks like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth but don't be fooled by that cool exterior. Inside she's just a hot little slut and behind her husband's back she was fucking for France... or Brazil... or both combined. Of course it was only a matter of time before he found out. He decided that if she was going to behave like a whore she might as well make a little money while she was about it. Only a LITTLE money, mind you, as her behaviour had been so trashy.'

'And she agreed to this?' I asked, incredulously.

'He had the foresight to arrange for a stringent pre-nuptial agreement' said Sophie. 'Under the terms of the contract, he could have divorced her and not paid her a penny after the way she'd behaved. If she stays here the full six months, they will have been married for two years, and she will be entitled, should they part then, to at least a small share of his fortune...'

I thought of Justine and her punishment and my cock grew even harder. Even now at this moment some stranger was despoiling those lovely limbs. Perhaps his thick cock was in her unwilling mouth, perhaps he was pulling those long dark nipples with his rough work-hardened fingers.... the slut, she deserved everything that was coming to her. And yet... she was a whore... she was probably enjoying every minute of it. There were women like that, as I knew only too well. From the highest in the land to the lowest of the low, certain women were born sluts, only happy on their backs with their holes stuffed with cock. It sounded to me as if Justine, that arrogant beauty, were just one such. She may toss her hair and pretend to be a lady but she had been found out and now everyone would know she was nothing but a fuck toy and anyone who wanted her would be able to have her.... With a sigh I corrected myself. Not anyone, unfortunately.

Sophie could sense what I was thinking. 'So you see, Jacques... I canot accommodate you, my friend, because you are too rich, too handsome, too respectable... altogether not at all what Justine's husband wants for his slut wife. Of course once the six months are up she will be free to go and she may leave here just as much a slut as she came in. Then you may find her and persuade her that she should be yours....'

I had an idea. 'Sophie... you know me, I'm a player, not a watcher. But I also know how you cater to every taste under your remarkable roof. If I can't have Justine, at least let me watch her in action this evening...'

Sophie smiled broadly. 'Now that, my dear Jacques, is perfectly acceptable. Her husband wants her shame to be witnessed by as many men as possible. If you would just like to follow me...'

She led the way up the familiar staircase, the polished mahogany banisters and handrail, glossy and worn smooth with the touch of countless fingers, the plush red carpet held in place with brass rods, the 'family portraits' that lined the walls giving the place the air of a Victorian gentlemans' club. I followed her to the end of the corridor where she unlocked a room I had not been in before, flicked on the lights and stood aside as I walked in. It was furnished in a style typical of the house, opulent, almost hectically sensual, every surface gilded, or upholstered in velvet, suede or silk, mirrored or tiled in marble. A side table held an arrangement of orchids and another a collection of antique ivory sex toys in a glass case. Behind the bed, which was bedecked with a rich fur and velvet cover, a huge ormolu mirror reflected my face and behind me, Madame Sophie, watching me indulgently, pleased that she was able to please me at least in this.

'Watch the mirror, Jacques' she said and turned the lights off again. Immediately it was clear that I was looking through into the adjoining room and facing me, the bedhead against the opposite wall, was a similar bed, the covers thrown back, and on it, kneeling with her arse presented towards me most tantalisingly and teasingly, was Justine, sucking the cock of her customer with more than professional relish. This one glimpse alone was enough to confirm my suspicions. If Justine's husband thought he would humble his wife here he was completely mistaken. The slut was in her element. More likely, he'd have trouble persuading her to leave when the six months were up.

The man who - lucky devil! - was privy to her attentions just now was short, squat and ugly, but he might have been the God of Love himself to judge from the fervour with which this delightful trollop applied.herself to his cock. Eagerly her head bobbed up and down and she was taking him deep.... if I wasn't much mistaken this was a woman who knew how to deep-throat. I groaned in frustration, forgetting Sophie behind me until she coughed gently.

'Let me know if there's anything you want' she said. 'There are drinks in the cabinet over there... if I can send up one of my other girls to amuse you while you watch....?'

I just wanted to be left alone to watch my quarry and to imagine what I would do with her when eventually I got the chance. For that day would certainly come, I was sure of it. I was prepared to bide my time for the entire six months if necessary, but when that time was up, I'd be back in Rio and no husband then would stand between me and the woman who, even if she didn't know it yet, was destined to feel the kiss of my whip.

'I'm OK, Sophie, thanks' I said. 'Maybe later...'

She shrugged and smiled and quietly let herself out of the room. I turned on a bedside light, momentarily dimming my view of the splendid naked woman so eagerly sucking the stranger's cock in the bed just a few feet from mine. I fixed myself a scotch and then, lowering the lights once more, turned my eyes back to the sex show being enacted in front of me.

If it had been me she'd have been sucking my cock all right but she'd have been tied, her wrists bound behind her, her hair wrapped around my fist and pulled impossibly tight as I drove her face down onto my cock, gagging her with my thick column of flesh. The workman there was just lying back and letting her get on with it. Between her wide-spread knees I could see her tits hanging down onto his chest, her swollen nipples brushing against his thick thatch of greying hair. I could see his fingers reach out for and squeeze her nipples, and the way she moved her hips, helpless with lust, as he did so. Gazing into her cunt I could see just how sopping wet she was, and the threads of cum laced between her thighs. I loosened my trousers which were uncomfortably tight. I could tell from the speed with which she was moving now and the small, urgent, bucking movements of the man's hips that he was close to cumming. Evidently he came and I could see that Justine was loath to let his cock go, milking it for every last drop of cum. She sat back up on her heels finally and he got up, dressed quickly and left.

After he'd gone, Justine slowly and dreamily got to her feet. I watched, mesmerised, as she slid off the bed and at last turned and faced me - or rather faced the mirror on the wall in her room which was the counterpart of mine. I watched in delight as she licked her lips, and unaware that she was being watched, slipped a finger into her cunt, stroking it against her clit, watching herself in the mirror, a catlike expression of contentment on her features. Her hair was disordered and her body coated in a sheen of sweat. Picking up a brush she ran it through her rich dark hair and rummaging in a drawer produced a lipstick and applied a fresh coat of peachy gloss to her lips. She was in no hurry and she did not seem bothered about putting on her silk robe once more - this was a woman sure of the beauty of her body, who delighted in flaunting it even when there was no other audience but herself.

She was not left alone for long. I saw her turn, alerted no doubt by a knock at the door, and saw her move towards it as the door opened and another client appeared in the opening. I saw her hair flip as she gave her habitual toss of the head. She turned towards me then and I saw the secret smile curving her lips as another stranger entered her room, this one taller than the last, fatter, younger, but in no way different in type or quality. He was just another cock to fuck her, use her, the instrument of her husband’s intended punishment and her guilty pleasure. My hands stroked my cock, weighing my balls, their tautness as they filled with the cum which should be spurted all over Justine’s face. One day...

Justine waited for her client as he shrugged himself out of his clothes. Sophie’s arrangements stopped short of sound. At first I’d thought this a disadvantage, wanting to hear the sounds of sex, the wet slickness as the man’s cock slid in and out of that whore’s mouth, her moans and grunts when he went deep... but now I watched the dumb show entranced, the very silence lending the scene a quality of otherness I found utterly compelling. I saw the man’s mouth open and Justine’s head cocked as she listened to him, then knelt on the bed and held on to the footrail, facing me. He climbed onto the bed behind her and the dark curtain of her hair swung around to cover her face as she turned, saying something to him. I could see her pushing her cunt and arse towards him and the swing of her hair as she turned once more to face me. Wonderful.... I had a view of her face and could see by her expression as without preamble he thrust into one of her openings. Judging by her blissful expression he was fucking her cunt. Holding onto the rail she pushed herself back onto his cock and he reached forward to grasp her tits, using them as purchase on her sweat-slippery body.

The golden whore moved against him rhythmically, faster, swinging her hips.... to look at her anyone would think she was the paying client, determined to get the most for her money. I swear her cunt tried to swallow that man alive. The mouthful of cum she’d got from her previous customer had been no more than an aperitif - the woman was insatiable. She was in her element here, she was cunt, pure cunt, a hole, a fuckmachine, designed by a master to suck the cum from men’s bodies and the reason from their minds. I could go mad with lust for a woman like that..... and she would fuck for me, she would be my whore, she would fuck the men I chose, the women I chose, the animals I chose... and I would reward her with the most exquisite tortures she would learn to love as much as she now loved the simpler pleasures of sex. My hands blurred now on my cock yet I would not wish for release, not yet. As the man behind her came and went, I saw my beauty was by no means sated and if she could keep going why then so could I.

Left alone once more, she lay back on the soaked sheets and fingered her used cunt with one hand while the other teased her left nipple with long, sharp nails, digging into the engorged flesh, pulling and twisting, and to my delight I saw my whore was already no stranger to the subtle pleasures of pain... The hand buried between her thighs pressed and caressed and her hips moved lasciviously against it as her nails inflicted greater torment on her nipple.

My mouth was so close to the mirror my hot breath was in danger of misting up my view, the sight of her almost impossible for me to bear as I observed the sudden rigidity of her limbs as she reached orgasm and then shudder after shudder trembled through her frame. With a groan I reached that same height and closed my eyes as gout after gout of cum spattered against the glass, decorating that golden image, as spent, she lay now quietly in the tangled sheets, soft tremors still setting her quivering as she came back down to earth. Sated I threw myself down on the bed, wishing now when it was too late that I had waited longer...

When my pulse slowed finally towards normal and I sat up again and took another pull of my drink, I turned my gaze back towards Justine so near to me yet so unattainable. That whore was already flat on her back with another man between her thighs and as far as I could tell she was going at it with as much relish as she had with the last man, despite the racking orgasm I’d seen which would have been entirely sufficient for any but the most nymphomaniac of women. I cleaned myself up and adjusted my clothing before leaving the room. I had seen enough for now.

But I couldn't resist her... turning at the door, I took one last glance at the lit-up stage of the mirror and at the beautiful woman framed within it, gleefully fucking her third client in less than an hour. Six months was a long time to wait for her and by the time the six months were up countless men would have taken their turn between those elegant legs. Yet here, I felt sure, was a woman who would emerge from the experience with her ardour undimmed and judging by what I’d seen of her left to her own secret devices, ready, yes... ready for exactly the more arcane pleasures to which I intended to introduce her.

All in all, it had been a most encouraging evening. I had expected to be doing more than wanking when I'd set out for Sophie's, but instead I had been given a vision of the future, my future with the delectable Justine. We had not been introduced and yet I had watched her pleasuring three men as well as her own self. And all unknowingly, she had given me the first of many orgasms. Justine and I would be meeting again. Today I was nothing to her, a face in the crowd at most; but I knew I was destined to be the master of her fate. She might not realise it now, but six months hence, fucked full and fed on her diet of cream, sated with the simple lusts of strangers, she would be waiting for me.