A Working Girl's Life

September 13, 1931 dawned as if it knew that today a girl was going to be thrown out to the world on her own. An unwelcoming chilled dampness greeted Ella when she stepped outside her front door into the pale late autumn sun that was just peeking over the horizon. She wore her best dress, a threadbare pale blue gown with tiny yellow flowers on it. It was too small for her, barely falling to her knees, stretching tight around her young breasts. Over her left shoulder she had a burlap bag that held all her worldly possessions. Another dress, this one a patched work-dress of an indiscriminate gray. Three squares of cornbread, two boiled eggs. A cracked china doll with the paint flaking off the pretty face and a ragged little dress of faded pink muslin.

She stopped in the yard, tearful gray eyes turning back to the doorway where her mother stood, wringing her hands unhappily. The two women stared at each other for a long moment. The older an aged copy of the younger. Both with fine wispy blond hair, pretty soft gray eyes, full mouths, high narrow cheekbones, delicate pale skin. Something in their carriage, their bodies, spoke of a blue blooded ancestry. But there was no trace of that blue blood in the stark poverty that surrounded them now.

"I am so sorry, baby. But you can't be here when Ed gets back from the fields this afternoon. You heard'em last night. You ain't his, and your eighteen now. A big girl. You gotta make your own way, baby girl."

The mother's voice quivered, tears spilled down her sunken cheeks. The thin starved wail of a child inside sounded the end of this sad little goodbye. Ella managed a croaking, "I love you, Mama."

Then her mother disappeared back inside, the patched thin blanket falling back over the doorway. Ella began walking down the road to town.

Her hands grew numb with cold, and she wished her feet would do the same. But the cold just made them hurt more, and what would have been a pleasant walk down the dirt road in the summer became a painful one in the winter. Each gritty grain of sand scraped along the cold skin of her bare feet. Each rock dug in viciously. She stopped three hours later and crouched on the side of the road, her dress hanging over her feet and providing a faint tease of relative warmth as she ate one of the eggs. A car raced by, pelting her with small rocks. She was still hungry, so she ate one bite of one of the cornbread squares too. Then she walked on.

When she reached Yardley the townsfolk ignored her, and she kept walking. There was nothing for her here. They all knew of her stepfather Ed Lanton and his shifty ways. No one would hire anyone from his family, and even if she had been thrown out to live her own life she would still be considered one of them. She spent the first night in a haystack in a field off the road, and she slept warm. The weather was considerable warmer the next day, and she rather enjoyed her walk, but by the time she bedded down that night in some leaves and bushes she had eaten the last of her food.

Three hungry days later she arrived in Nashville. She stood in line for three hours in a soup kitchen and ate outside in the cold wind, savoring the hard roll and small bowl of soup she was given. Afterwards she went from store to store, begging pitifully for a job. None were to be had. No one was hiring, and if they were they had no interest in hiring a half starved girl from the hills who could not even read her own name.

On the evening of her sixth desperate day in Nashville, she met Ms. Irene Tranton. She was leaning against a cold brick wall, shivering as her daily soup turned to lead in her stomach. She was so cold, so terribly cold. She thought she would never be warm again. Even just standing still hurt the bottoms of her bare feet, and her thin dress provided absolutely no protection from the wicked wind that slashed at her thin frame.

Then she felt the softest of silks against her arm as a beautiful black-haired woman touched her elbow. Ella looked up into kind blue eyes, trembling violently as the woman gently spoke,

"Poor darling. My name is Ms. Tranton. Come along, I will take care of you."

Ella never protested. She simply followed mutely to the old three story home they entered through the back into a gloriously warm kitchen. There was a large fireplace there in the kitchen with a fire crackling in it. Ella was sat next to the fire, and she huddled so close to the cheerful fire she was in very real danger of simply falling in. Her rescuer whispered for a few moments to an older, portly gray-haired woman in a white cooks apron, then disappeared. The cook brought her food. Two pork chops, mashed potatoes, green beans, cornbread.

"Gretchen, I'm STARVING! I need to eat something before the custom....oh, hello there!"

With a mouth full of meat Ella looked up at the pretty brown-haired girl who dashed into the kitchen, and promptly began choking. The girl was practically NAKED! She was dressed in nothing but a thin housecoat belted around her waist. A deep shadow between the gaping edges at the top revealed the firm naked flesh of the girl's breasts. She didn't seem that much older than Ella, far too old to be running around half naked.

"Oh no! Oh my goodness, here, cough it up!"

The girl gave her a hearty slap between the shoulder blades, leaving Ella coughing but able to breathe again. She looked up, blinking into gentle, laughing brown eyes.

"I know I'm a fright this early, but I didn't mean to scare you!" The girl threw herself into a chair nearby, scooting it over closer to Ella. "My name is Beth."

The cook brought another plate over to Beth, handing it to her with a warm smile.

"Better eat up fast, missy. Ms. Tranton be openin' the doors soon."

Beth began eating, glancing inquiringly over to Ella. Ella flushed, remembering her manners.

"Ella, Miss."

Beth laughed merrily.

"Oh, don't 'Miss' me! I am just Beth, a normal working girl. Did Ms. Tranton fetch you off the streets?"

The question was so casual Ella found herself nodding, then flushing. She didn't like being the object of pity, but had been too hungry and too cold to care before. Beth simply offered a sympathetic look as she hurriedly ate.

"She did the same for me. It's a fine place to work, Ms. Tranton takes good care of us girls as long as we do our job."

"Job?" Ella perked up curiously. She could work here in this wonderful place? In the warmth, with regular food? Oh, she would do anything!

Beth giggled through a mouthful of food.

"Yes, but Ms. Tranton will tell you all about the job. I hope you stay with us. You are very pretty, I think you would do well here."

Another kind smile accompanied that cryptic remark and then Beth vanished in a flurry of activity, leaving Ella alone by the fireside. She stayed there for perhaps another hour with the cook moving quietly around the kitchen. Ella offered twice to help, and the cook gently but firmly turned her down.

"I do my work in here. You girls do your work out there."

That was that, and the cook refused to answer Ella's inquiries about the job.

"Ms. Tranton will tell you all about it."

Ms. Tranton appeared an hour later. She was a slender, graceful woman with rich black hair that was arranged in an elegant twisted knot on the back of her head. Simple gold jewelry graced her neck and wrists. She wore a maroon silk gown with black lace. Ella wanted to touch it, but refrained.

"I am sorry I had to leave you, dearling. I needed to get things situated for our customers. Things are going nicely on their own now and I have a few moments to spend with you. What is your name?"

"Ella Faircloth, Missus."

"Ella, do you have any family?"

Ella's pretty face twisted in momentary despair, and she shook her head.

"Not no more, Missus. It's time fer me to make my own way."

Soft pity touched Ms. Tranton's eyes.

"It's a hard time for a girl alone, Ella. Do you have any options? Any other job opportunities?"

"No, Missus. I was hoping I could work here maybe."

"Do you know what the girls who work here do?"

"No, Missus. But I can work hard, and I promise..."

Ms. Tranton held up one hand.

"Promise nothing, Ella. Not yet. First, let me tell you what you will get by working here. You get $2 a week, and get to keep all your tips. You get three meals a day. Simple food, but all you can eat. You get a bed to sleep in and a room of your own, and two sets of clothing a year – one dress for going out in and one set for work."

It sounded like heaven to Ella.

"Now as for what you do, the girls here take men to their beds. They fuck the men, they suck their cocks, they do whatever the men want. Some will allow men to hurt them, and they make a lot more money."

Ms. Tranton seemed to deliberately use crude language for it, and she seemed to get the reaction she wanted. Ella's jaw dropped, her eyes widened in shock. Ms. Tranton smiled grimly.

"It's not as bad as it seems, dearling. Most of the girls actually enjoy it a good bit of the time. For the first couple months till I feel you are trained well enough I will choose your customers, but after that you can choose your own for the most part. You are a pretty girl, Ella. A bit too thin, but you will fill out quickly. There are a lot of men who would very much enjoy you. One in particular would pay $20 for the chance to fuck you tonight if you're a virgin. I will give you $10 out of it. Are you a virgin, Ella? That's more than some men make in a week."

Ella swallowed hard, her body suddenly numb. It was an amount she had never considered making in a week, much less one night. But she would be a whore. A fallen woman. Really though, what choice did she have? Go back out there on the street and slowly starve to death? She would probably freeze to death first.

"I don't know nothin' about layin' with a man."

Ms. Tranton laughed softly. "I know, my dear. That is why they will want you."

"I spose..."

Ms. Tranton had no interest in letting Ella linger over the thought, and possibly change her mind. "Excellent. Then come with me, let's get you ready."

An hour later, Ella didn't even recognize herself. Her stringy blond hair was scrubbed and towel dried, tumbling around her face in damp wispy curls. Her body had been scrubbed till it glowed pink, and carefully denuded so that the only hair on her body was attached to her head. She had been dressed up in a filmy silk creation that fell to the tops of her thighs, barely covering her crotch. She was in her new bedroom - basically a large closet that had enough room for an iron-work bed with a thin mattress and a plaid quilt, a small writing desk with a plain wooden chair, and a small set of drawers for her belongings. There was even a narrow window facing a blank brick wall, letting in a pitifully small amount of natural light.

"There! You are beautiful, loveling. Now you just wait here, and when the man comes in you just be sweet and do what he says and you will make lots of money." Ms. Tranton left her there with a kiss on her forehead.

Five minutes passed by as she stood there in the chilled room, shivering. Waiting with a cold dread in the pit of her stomach making her sick. She looked longingly at the quilt on the side of the bed. A few more minutes passed. Finally giving in, she dragged the quilt off the bed and wrapped it around herself, perching on the edge of the bed. Her shivering gradually died down, and she closed her eyes in blissful contentment. The quilt was so thick, so soft, so....

The door creaked open and she stiffened, her eyes cutting warily over to it. The man standing there smiled genially at her as he closed the door behind him. Amusement danced in his blue eyes when he saw the quilt wrapped around her. She eyed him critically. He didn't seem to be wicked. He seemed...normal. Middle-aged, probably late thirties. Hair beginning to go bald, but the hair left was brown speckled with gray. He wasn't fat, wasn't thin. His face was average, with a brown eyes, narrow patrician nose, and a thin jutting chin. He wore a brown suit with a crisp white shirt, no necktie.

"Like what you see, doll?" He settled into the chair, smiling at her when she flushed and ducked her head in response.

"Irene said you were a virgin. Is that true?" He reached into his pocket, and her eyes widened when he withdrew a small roll of bills. His grin widened when he saw the greed in her eyes.

"Y...yes, sir."

"Sir....I like that. Very polite. You can call me sir for the rest of the evening. I already paid Irene, by the way. What I leave you here is yours – and yours alone."

He peeled off a bill, laying it on her desk. It was a whole dollar. Just for her. Her gray eyes widened even more, her lips parting slightly. She knew Ms. Irene had promised her $10, but that fantastical amount seemed a dream. The dollar on that desk was real. Tangible. She could see it. If she was on her own she could eat for a week off that dollar. It wouldn't feed her a lot, but it would keep her alive.

"I know it's a bit chilly in here, love. But if you drop that quilt I will warm you up real soon, and you will get another dollar."

She hesitated for only a second or two, then her fingers loosened. The quilt tumbled to a thick pile on the bed around her. The silken bed-gown had no sleeves. The arms on her skin prickled underneath his eyes. Her breasts tingled. Her soft gray eyes tracked his hand as he laid another dollar down on the desk.

"Good girl. You are very pretty. Irene said you were, but I didn't expect you to be this pretty."

"Thank you, Sir." Her eyes flickered from the two dollars on the desk to his, and she flushed crimson. His eyes held amusement, lust, and a note of contempt. Despite the thin covering of the bed-gown she suddenly felt naked, vulnerable, ashamed.

"Now I want you to spread your legs as wide as you can for me. Let me see that pretty little pussy of yours."

He peeled off another dollar, holding it dangling temptingly in his fingers.

"Your blush is adorable."

She ducked her head shyly, but silently spread her legs. Sleek young thighs opening wide, revealing the tight slit of her pussy, squeaky clean. All pink and fresh and sweet.

"Oh that looks lovely. Touch it for me, Ella."

His voice was husky now. He dropped the dangling dollar bill onto her desk, and peeled off TWO bills.

"Touch it for me. Play real nice with it, baby."

She burned with humiliation, but underneath it she felt a touch of ....excitement? Confused, she obeyed. One small hand drifting down between her legs, tentatively stroking the plump pussylips.

"Spread that little pussy, darling. Let me see it."

She obeyed, peering down at herself as she did so, trying to see what fascinated him so. Her lips parted to reveal bright pink flesh. Healthy looking flesh that beckoned and twinkled with moisture.

He groaned, and she glanced up at him. The contempt was gone. The amusement, gone. In place was heavy lust and need. Even as innocent as she was she recognized the emotions darkening his eyes. She looked back down at herself, and with the other hand not holding herself open, she began stroking herself again.

"Yessss....." His whisper was loud, and the rustle of another bill hitting her desk accompanied it.

She found her clit, and her soft gasp filled the room.

"Oh yeah. You're gonna be an amazing whore, pretty one. Make yourself feel good."

There was a slight rustling of cloth as she kept stroking herself, her little fingers exploring her sex, toying with her newly discovered clit. Her pleasure-dazed eyes lifted to him, and she saw him open his trousers. His hard cock sprang loose and he fisted a dollar bill around it, slowly stroking himself as he watched her. Ella was fascinated, she had never seen a cock before. She watched him, even as he watched her. Together they masturbated – a jaded older businessman, an innocent young whore.

Her fingertips grew moist.

"Ever seen a man's dick before, baby?"

She shook her head mutely.

"Come here. Kneel in front of me."

She hesitated again. He dangled another dollar. The money brought her off the bed, reluctantly crossing the floor to him. Bare feet padded softly on the wooden floor. His smile was genuine as he looked down at the pretty little thing kneeling so submissively at his feet.

"Touch me."

Her small delicate fingers hesitantly brushing against his heated flesh brought a groan of pleasure from him. His large fingers folded around hers as he taught her how to stroke him. Gray eyes remained fixed on his brown ones as she secretly marveled at the softness of him. He seemed so hard there, yet his flesh was soft, spongy. Her finger circled the helmeted tip, gently probed the flexing slit.

"Fuck...."

That last move brought a swear word from him that had her blushing, ducking her head again. He chuckled low. The pretty little whore was selling her body for money, but salty language embarrassed her. She was utterly delicious.

"Kiss it, baby. Lick it with your tongue."

Another dollar fluttered to the desk as she hesitated again. The little pile of money was growing though, and while he had never indicated it she suspected if she started getting too reluctant the pile of money might vanish right back into his pocket. She bent her head, blond hair lying falling against brown woolen pants.

Cotton candy pink tongue sliding out of pretty pink lips, flicking against the throbbing tip of his cock. He gasped, his hips jerking.

"Oh yeah, just like that. Lick me all over. Pretty little slut."

She cringed at the word and started to draw away from him, but his hand dropped onto the back of her head, gently urging her forward again.

"Be a good girl, sweetheart. I want that hot little mouth of yours on me. Now."

He was firm, but not cruel. And his reward was her tongue on him, wet glittering hot trails up and down his cock as she licked him like a piece of candy. His head fell back and his eyes closed, savoring her wickedly innocent endeavors.

"Suck it, baby." His voice was guttural, thick with pleasure.

Her mouth closed on him, enveloping him in the wet heat of her mouth. At the first suckling sensation he nearly shot out of the chair.

"Holy shit, you're a hot little whore, aren't you?" The tone of gentle affection made the rude term easier for her to take. "Suck it hard, slut. So good...."

He felt her flinch at the terms he so casually threw at her, but his firm grip on her soft damp hair kept her working bobbing that pretty little head up and down his pulsing length. The fact she didn't like the words he used for her but so meekly accepted them made him even harder. It was a gentle humiliation he adored inflicting on young virgins. He liked the pale pink flushes, the way the blushes reached the tops of their breasts. The guilty look of shame that would flicker in their eyes even as they screamed with the pleasure he gave them. He would the first to take and use young Ella, but there would be more. So many, many more. He would be the first to enjoy her tight little soft body, but after him she would spread her legs again and again for men who would lay on top of her, grunting out their pleasure as they impaled her. Perhaps in a couple weeks he would come back and watch her being fucked by others. The thought of watching her service another man when he was the first to introduce her to this new life nearly made him cum right down her throat then and there.

Yes...he would make arrangements with Irene. He would watch this sweet little whore's debauchement over the next few months. Watch it? Hell, he would fucking arrange it! He had the extra money, and Irene would do anything for an extra dollar...well...Irene would make her girls do anything for an extra dollar.

"Such a good girl...." He crooned down at her, smiling at that pitiful look of pleasure that flickered in her eyes at the praise.