A Mermaid In His Claws

*1st of April 1850* “Alana?” Someone asked outside the room. The door was locked from the inside, and the voice outside sounded like a man. I was lying down on the bed. The one that was given to me after the last girl left. That is when I got in. It was a few years ago and, still, nothing has changed, even if the faces have changed, every single detail of the absurd building is the same as to when I got in. “Alana!” The man called again. It was not enjoyable, yet it was my only way of getting money. Being the way I am, in a world where my kind is used for their attributes, is not the best way to live. And still, that is all I know. I am only fifteen and have spent the last six years in this place, sleeping in the same bed every chance I get. I simply want to enjoy the little time I have before that man outside finds his way in to get me back to work. As the door flew open, I got out of bed in just a red corset with a chemise underneath and lots of lace all over it. Cinched in for the delight of the client, tightly laced, and my t**s were almost completely out, making them look ten times fuller than they already were. The corset was a tad small for me. After all, my body is the main reason that I am still getting money in this place. As the man entered the room, he examined me, like every single morning. The same questions: ‘Did you get good sleep?’ ‘Have you had your bleed yet this month?’ ‘Are you pristine?’ It's always those same questions. It's never a genuine concern for someone else, it is just a concern about whether he's going to get money off of us. He took me outside the room to the common room. Work didn't officially start until six, except if someone had requested it before. It wasn't common, though. The mornings were relaxing, well, as relaxing as they can be in a brothel. Some of the other girls were sick of living there. Most were 16 or above. That's when they can make you lose your virginity. Before that, it's blowjobs, or they can hit as much as they want, anything that sparks their interest that does not involve the act of getting their c**k inside a v****a as soon as they see one that they like. So, naturally, those who still get to conserve their virginity are either desperate for money, like I am, or they’ve nowhere else to go. The complaints started, not that there was anything that anyone could do. “He was so old, I’m only 17 Ala,” a girl sat next to me, no doubt telling me that. Despite all the years that I have spent in this building, I still don’t know anyone’s name. “It was arguably one of the most awful experiences that I’ve had since coming in here, and frankly,” that is when I stopped listening and started to drink a cup of tea. She continued on, and on, and on. All I did was nod at her every word whilst sipping, slowly and calmly. On the other hand, I have already forgotten their names and faces. I’ve even forgotten what their c***s looked like. Plural. There were five guys. I am overly thankful that they liked to get high and put some of those drugs in my mouth. Sure, it was a clear violation of my person, but I asked for it, and they gave me some. They're my frequents, that I know. They always have some weed on them, no matter what. I wouldn't be surprised if someday they asked for my services for longer than a night. “Ala! Are you even listening?” I nodded. “Well, answer me, how was your night?” Here we go, the false concern for others' experience. “Nothing too different. They're my most satisfied clients an-” “More than one!?” Oh, so she has the guts to cut me off when talking. “They all fit inside of you?” She said with her eyes wide open. From what I've heard, she only works for old men, something about not being as beautiful as her sister or s**t, or was that the red-haired one? “No, still virgin, it was more li-” “Oh, I thought it was your sixteenth birthday last week,” she f*****g did it again, and her voice. I hate her voice. “Fifteenth birthday, today.” I said nonchalantly. “Well, happy birthday Ala. So, who do you think is the VIP that they're bringing tonight?” That's news. “Do you think it might be like someone from high society or just someone who paid extra?” “I don't know, and I do not care.” And with that, I walked out of that stupid conversation. I will have to find out who this VIP is. From the little I heard of the conversations in the room, he wanted a fifteen-year-old. He doesn't want s*x, or so I hear. Others say he does want it. Either way, the day passed by, more like morning passed by, and right after lunch, the boss came into the common room along with a tall guy, maybe 17-18. He was handsome, with black hair and gray eyes. Sure, I was drawn to him when it came to his looks. There was something about him, I could not quite pinpoint, something in his posture, or the way he looked at others, as if he was above them. But surely, there was something about him that I did not like entirely.