"The Corridor R-18G" By robblu (https://pastebin.com/u/robblu) URL: https://pastebin.com/1hEsRXs7 Created on: Thursday 25th of July 2019 07:45:00 PM CDT Retrieved on: Saturday 31 of October 2020 03:08:20 AM UTC The Corridor It was a busy day on "the Corridor" and I was called into active duty earlier than I expected. I had thought that I would be able to live through the week which was the normal cycle for a terminal prostitute. However, there was an unexpected convention at the convention center that the brothel manager didn't have listed. When the doors opened at nine a.m., a steady stream of clients poured in. Because we were an express brothel, there was no interpersonal relationship with the client. That was the price of being a lower graded concubine. I started the day as one of the Corridor's attendants. We started the day with only 4 girls mounted into the slots of the Corridor. It was called the Corridor because of the 15 foot wide hidden walk way between the 10 slots on each side. The concubine would put her head through the slot in the thin wall, the stock would be closed. Naked, of course, the concubine would wait for the client to come and use her body as they wished and then press the button which activated the cauterizing guillotine in the wall, quickly killing the slave. Inside the head would fall into a basket where I collected them and sent it down the chute for processing. Attendants on the floor would collect the body and send it for butchering and a new concubine would replace her. In a short time I was radioing the Mistress for assistance in the corridor. I would have as many as two or three girls being used at the same time, with simultaneous beheadings happening and I could barely keep up. The girls were so well trained and professional. They would let me know when they were about to be killed and I would get the basket over to receive their head in the nick of time. The entire afternoon and evening went like that. When we went over 100 girls killed by nine pm that night, we were getting deeper and deeper into the stock of girls upstairs in the dormitory. When closing time was approaching we finally thought we had finished. We would be receiving a busload of new slaves in the morning. Of course, that meant that I would probably be dying much sooner than I expected, but I had already accepted that by the end of the day. There were only three girls left in the Corridor and all of them had someone using them or about to use them. The radio call came over my walkie calmly. "Mary, can you come out?" I assumed that the Head Mistress was going to go over the more extensive clean up that would be necessary because of the extra business. When I got there to the reception table, the Head Mistress looked at her list and then back into the waiting area at the three customers left. "Mary, I need you to take a slot, now," she instructed, "I can't wait for someone to come down. I would have put you in as soon as you got up in the morning anyway." I looked as calmly as possible. "Yes, Mistress," I said and she gestured for me to follow one of the attendants to the slot where I was to be taken. The girl was younger than me but I had seen her on the floor before. She was dark and quiet. Each slot has partitions between them so that the client has a small measure of privacy. There is also a curtain to close if desired. One man, a huge muscular black man chose not to, and as I walked to my own slot, I could see the girl's toes clinching and kicking as he pounded into her. By her apparent discomfort, I surmised that he was taking her anally. Even through the wall, one could hear the girl's baleful crying. I walked on and she took me around to the opposite side. On one side the concubine is on her hands and knees with her butt up for the client to address. She led me to the first booth on the other side where the concubine was laid on her back. This was something I was glad of. The girl accepted my clothes as I undressed. The slot of the stock was already open and I climbed onto the cushioned bench and scooted forward, poking my head into the darkened Corridor. Inside there were two more girls on my side which I could see when I rolled my head to the right as well as girls who's heads were upright on the other side, but I could only a couple of them on the opposite end of the Corridor. The corridor attendant came down and secured the stock of the guillotine around my neck. A second attendant got up to attend one of the girls on the opposite side. Her face was contorted and she was groaning. I think it was the girl I saw with the black man because her face was reddened and anquished her teeth clinched. The attendant placed a basket beneath her face. The familiar sound of the laser enhanced blade mechanically falling and rising came simultaneously with her head seeming to simply slip into the basket. The attendant looked into the basket and stroked the head. I heard her say it was okay to the basket and when she was satisfied that the head had lost the ability to perceive she disposed of it. I felt my wrists being secured and then the outer attendant patting my bare belly as a cursory goodbye. I was about to die. The short haired attendant in the corridor looked down kindly. "You secure?" I nodded. She bent down and gave me a tender kiss on the lips which was our custom in the corridor and went back to her seat. Two slots to the right of me, on my side, a black girl was being fucked. She was calm as her head seemed to bob from the steady strokes being delivered on her body, neither showing pleasure or discomfort. She was looking at me, the white of her eyes showing brightly in the darkened corridor and so contrasted with her dark skin. Even as we made eye contact though, her mouth sort of opened involontarily and her eyes seemed to take on a strained look, her mouth forming an "O". Her eyes slid closed and she sighed. Without bidding the attendant came over and placed a basket just under the head rest where the black girl had become oblivious. She opened her eyes and stared up even as the sound of the guillotine announced her dispatch, her head just turned and rolled into the basket. As the attendant came to collect the head, I felt a hand touch my knee and I flinched involontarily. The hand whichwas distinctly feminine petted my thigh and I stayed still. I couldn't hear anything on the other side. Her hands touched me delightfully. I was so hypersensitive to the fact that I was about to die that I didn't expect to find pleasure from what was going to happen. However the woman's hands gently slid tenderly up and down my torso, over my small breasts, gently tweeking my nipples, before sliding back down my tummy and over my mons. I instinctively let my legs open and she gently let her fingers explore my sex which was unexpectedly moistening. Her middle finger probed inside of me and then was joined by a second before withdrawing. I sucked my breath in as I felt her warm mouth descend on my genitals, her soft tongue hungrily licking. I extended my fingers in the restraints. I wanted to touch her. I was moaning and I was sure she couldn't hear how much I approved of what I was feeling her tongue burrowed deep into my vagina before taking another long lap back up over my swelling clitoris. I began coming in moments, climaxing repeatedly, humping into the strokes of each lap of her tongue. Her hand extended to mine and we interlocked fingers tightly, the emotional attachment causing me to orgasm even harder. Then, she was gone and I held my breath expecting to die. Instead I felt a second pair of hands, masculine and strong, catch my ankles and press my knees to my chest. The velvety soft mushroom head of a strong, hard penis gently ran over my wet, aroused clitoris before pushing open my less than reluctant vagina. Though he was quite large, I was so aroused that he easily entered me fully. I moaned loudly and the attendant came over with a basket. She smiled at me as the man started to slow fuck me. "It's so good," I whispered to her, "better than I could have hoped." The fucking was strong, steady hard but not rough. I came three times, moaning and sighing. The woman held my hand as her husband thorough fucking continued. I sensed his orgasm, as he began to buck into me with an almost primal energy and then stiffened and withdrew. The woman's hand left mine to do only what I could speculate. Then I felt warm semen drops on my tummy followed a moment later by her tongue licking up her husband's seed. I was panting, emotionally and physically spent by this final sex act of my life. Now I was going be killed. A sense of peace and contentment filled me. I felt two sets of lips on each of my nipples giving me a last kiss. Then the woman's hand took mine and held it as the guillotine cut through my neck. Oddly, I still felt her hand in mine as the attendant lifted the basket with my head. I blinked. There was no pain, though I was radically disoriented. The attendant smiled and looked down stroking my hair. "It's okay," she said, "go to sleep, baby-girl, go to sleep." I felt conciousness rushing from me as my brain began to register that it was already dead, the sensation of the woman's hand still clutching mine in my death throes. Terminal prostitution is a concept I love to play with. This is more dispassionate than other scenarios I have, but I love the way commonplace submission and sex are dealt with in this.