Page 2 of The Show (Dirty Little Harlots #3)

“ Our little whore,” Edward chuckled.

A wave of humiliation washed over me, but it did nothing to dampen the heat building in my core. Another hand found my breast, replacing Edward's, kneading the soft flesh before pinching the taut peak. I bit back a moan, hating myself for the way my body responded to their crude touches.

Did I want this?

After everything I’d been through, everything I was enduring now…did I still yearn for Edward’s touch? Or any man’s touch? Or did I just enjoy being used this way—degraded?

Fingers probed my mouth, parting my lips, pushing inside. I tasted salt and smoke, and suckled instinctively, my cheeks hollowing out. A groan echoed around me, and the fingers withdrew, only to be replaced by another set, these thicker, rougher as they pressed my tongue down, causing me to choke.

I was lost in a sea of sensation, of coarse words and crude laughter.

They touched me everywhere, their hands harsh and demanding, and my body…I burned . I was adrift, drowning in a tide of shame and desire, unable to anchor myself to anything solid, anything real.

Until Edward's voice cut through the fog, sharp and commanding. “On your knees, slut.”

His hands, those familiar hands that had once caressed me with tenderness—or so I’d thought—tightened in my hair, pushing me down. And I, grateful for the anchor of his touch, went willingly, sinking down to my knees on the soft carpet in the center of the room.

The Supplicant Swan.

I remembered this position from A Harlot’s Guide to the Forbidden and Delightful Arts . Madam Eve had given me a copy when I’d first approached her about the unusual opportunity she was offering. She’d told me to read it, to memorize it.

And I’d always been a good student.

The kneeling woman twirls her tongue around the head, working the shaft, or occasionally the ballocks, with her hand, bringing him to completion.

But I’d never done it for anyone but Edward.

Edward tugged on my hair, and I opened my eyes, my gaze level with the waists of the men surrounding me.

Their hands were at their trousers, unbuttoning, pushing fabric aside, freeing their cocks. I saw them in various states of arousal, some already hard and proud, others being stroked to full erection by their owners. The sight sent a shiver down my spine, a mix of apprehension and anticipation.

Knowing what was expected of me, I reached out, my hands tentatively gripping the two closest shafts. I began to stroke them, my fingers learning the shape and feel of each one. This was called Milkmaid’s Delight , and I’d practiced it at the Farthington’s Ball with Edward, a lifetime ago.

But I’d never seen this many cocks. One was smooth and straight, the other thick and veined. I could hear the men's breath hitch, their low groans of approval as I worked them.

Suddenly, a cock was at my lips, pressing for entrance.

It wasn't Edward's; I knew the shape and taste of him intimately.

This one was longer, the tip already wet with precum.

I parted my lips, taking him in, my tongue automatically swirling around the head.

The man grunted, his hands coming to the back of my head, pulling me forward until I was taking more of him.

I struggled to breathe, to keep up with his rhythm, as he fucked my face.

He was rough, his thrusts making me gag, but I forced myself to relax, to take him deeper. Tears stung my eyes, saliva dripped from my chin, but I focused on my breathing, allowing him to use my mouth, and kept stroking the cocks in my hands.

The man in my mouth stiffened, his grip on my hair tightening almost painfully. He thrust deep, making me choke. Then he was coming, his hot release pumping down my throat.

Disgusting. And yet…

I swallowed, the way Edward had taught me, but I couldn’t manage it all, and some of his seed spilled across my tongue.

Instinctively, I pushed the sharp-tasting cum from my mouth, and as it drippled across my chin to my chest, my body responded to his pleasure with a rush of heat between my own legs.

I should not be aroused by this.

I was.

As he pulled out, the stranger petted my head, his voice a low chuckle. “Such a good little slut.”

His words sent a humiliating thrill through me. I didn't want to be their slut, their whore…but my body betrayed me, responding to their crude touches and words with a desperate, shameful arousal.

I looked up, my eyes meeting Edward's. He was watching me with something like amusement, and I dropped my gaze before I risked him recognizing me. Or had he recognized me already, and this was part of one of his cruel games?

With my chin ducked to my chest, I allowed my dark curls to fall forward and hide more of my face as I continued to stroke the cocks in my hands.

“My turn!” Rogers gasped eagerly, and I saw his boots step up into position in front of me. “I’m ready to come just watching her suck off Daniel!”

Dutifully I opened my mouth, but when he grasped my hair and yanked my head back, I couldn’t hide my gasp of pain. Pain and humiliation, as he shoved his cock between my lips.

I could already taste his pre-cum; he was nearing the end, and I suspected he required no help from me. No, in fact, his painful hold on my hair kept my head steady as he slammed into my mouth, again and again, using my face the way he’d use a hole.

It was all I could do to keep my jaw wide and my airway open; I’d ceased my stroking of the other cocks and now used my grip on them to hold myself upright more than anything, as the over-enthusiastic Rogers fucked my mouth. Tears ran from the corners of my eyes and I feared I might pass out.

At least, when he came, it would be down my gullet instead of all over me.

“Wait.” Edward’s command cut through the wall of sound around me.

When Rogers dutifully halted—unfortunately with his cock down my throat, cutting of my breath—Edward’s smooth voice continued.

“I want you to come on her face,” he commanded. “ All over her face. Now.”

Rogers laughed and, using his grip on my hair, yanked my mouth away from where my lips had been pressed against his bollocks. Gratefully, I sucked in a lungful of air, my throat already sore from his rough use.

It took Rogers two strokes of his own cock before he grunted and came, spurting hot seed across my forehead and cheeks. I sputtered, dropping the other men’s members, to wipe at my face, grateful that the mask protected my eyes somewhat.

“Hold.”

I froze, and his fingers wrapped around my wrist, pulling them away.

“Look at this mess.” His tone was mild. “Our canvas has been positively defiled. Madam Eve, do you always allow your whore to get this dirty?”

Until I heard her throaty chuckle, I hadn’t realized the other woman was still in the room with us. “Well, my lords, the state you leave my flowers in is your own fault.”

“Nevertheless,” Edward continued, his hold on my wrist absolute, “it’s your responsibility to come over here and clean this slut. With your tongue.”

A moment of silence, and I don’t think I was the only one in the room holding my breath. Then Madam hummed. “That will cost you each extra, I think.”

“And I am certain the show will be worth it,” Edward smoothly replied.

Another throaty chuckle. “Very well, my lords.”

Edward didn’t release me until Madam Eve dropped to her knees beside me. Then he stepped back, and Madam’s hand rested on my chin, turning my face toward hers. Her smile, which had been one of calculation, now turned soft.

“They want a show, my dear,” she murmured, even as she leaned toward me.

Madam Eve's lips met mine, soft and warm, a stark contrast to the rough handling of the men. I was surprised by the gentleness, by the sweet taste of her, and even more surprised by the spark it ignited within me. I had never been kissed by a woman before, never knew I could find it so arousing. Or perhaps my body’s response was merely because of where I was, and what I was doing.

What we were doing.

Her lips moved against mine, coaxing a response, and I couldn't help but lean into her, my lips parting slightly.

Behind us, the men grunted their approval, their voices a distant rumble as I found myself drawn into the unexpected tenderness.

Madam Eve's tongue traced the seam of my lips, and I opened for her, my body heating in a way I hadn't anticipated as her touch moved from my cheek to my throat, then my breasts.

When she cupped my breast, squeezing gently, I gasped and arched into her hold, much to the delight of the men around us, judging from their crude comments.

But then, her kisses began to move, trailing from my lips to my cheeks, my forehead. I realized with a start that she was licking the remnants of Rogers’ release from my skin, swallowing it with soft, humming sounds of pleasure.

The men grew louder, their crude comments filling the air. “Christ, that's hot,” one of them growled, while another chuckled, “I never knew Madam Eve offered such cleaning services.”

I was both appalled and aroused, and my stomach churned even as the heat pooling between my legs left my blood thrumming.

Madam Eve's tongue was warm and soft, her touch gentle, yet the act itself was so depraved.

I couldn't reconcile the two sensations, the disgust and the desire.

It left me gasping, my body trembling with a mix of shame and need.

When she pulled away, I swayed toward her in desperation, and only her hold on my breast kept me upright.

“Good,” murmured Edward, watching both of us. “Who is next?”

Another man stepped up, his hand pumping his cock eagerly. “Open your mouth, loves,” he demanded, and I saw Madam Eve exchange a glance with me, one brow raised in question.

I wasn’t sure what she was asking, but when I leaned in, lips spread, to accept the man’s cock, she did as well.

I had no idea that The Supplicant Swan could be performed by two women at once!