Indebted - Part 3
Story by fugi88 on SoFurry
This story discusses life in the brothel as the threat of a strike comes up. There is one short sex scene here, but the development into it is gradual and can be skipped relatively easy.
Written by fugi88 ( patreon.com/Fugi88 ), commissions open
If you like stories like this, feel free to donate what little you can to paypal.me/fugi88 or patreon.com/fugi88 - It helps a lot!
Indebted, part three: Continuing from the brothel as we realise rumors of worker action have been coming along.
All nine of us were seated together at a pushed-together table in the centre of the room, us humans eating lunch mostly alone; most of the werewolves had left for their work.
"Damn", Muscle Mike said. “I never thought of it like that"
“Yeah, and to imagine how it might spread upwards!", the second lesbian said. “People love the idea of protest. They want to have power."
“It'll be the category Vs, and then the category IVs will want a taste of freedom, and before you know it, the entire brothel is bankrupt!", she continued.
“I've seen things like this talked about, but it seriously does feel like it's going to happen now", said the first lesbian. “We really can't do much about it in our position, though."
“I mean, we can try to discourage them, right?", said the third one. “I mean, they're also kind of fucked, right?"
“Yeah, actually! Prostitution is very illegal here!", exclaimed Muscle Mike. “Have you seen prisons? They're worse then then here!"
“Oh, and the loan sharks tend to seek repayment, without exactly being held back by the law", added Skinny Joe. “They'll never leave until the debt's gone."
“Well, not if the brothel falls bankrupt and it has to be sold off!", the first lesbian said. “No, the prostitutes know that if they kill the brothel, the loan sharks have no bribe money, and then no power because then they go to jail."
“I don't think the strike will ever happen, actually", said the third lesbian. “It's too risky and prison sucks. There you know you never get to leave."
“Couldn't they use their physical force against the management to get what they want?", i asked.
“Not here. No, There's a support structure if you know where to look", said Muscle Mike. “Every wing has a few real prostitutes. They get financial incentives to back up the management."
“The management has kept them armed. A murder is nothing worth paying attention to", he grimly noted. “Nobody knows who they are, either. They're fired if people figure out who they are, so there's that kind of push."
“That said, i'm pretty sure Mr Troy came here by choice", said Slim Joe. “Well, by a choice like mine, not literally just asking for a job here…!"
That was a lie. Maybe he liked Mr Troy.
“Yes. If even by force they end up winning over the management, what happens next?" said the second lesbian. “Every prostitute at work here had to give over personal details in some way or another, so it'd certainly be very easy to arrest them if the police raided."
“Oh, and they will raid. If you kill the management, no management equals no bribes. If you keep them from making money, no bribes. No bribes equals grounds for a raid.", said the first lesbian. “A raid equals being sent to the shitty prisons."
“We're fucked in all cases, you see", said muscle Mike. "With the strike, though, the loan sharks can be sent to prison
“Lunch over!", yellow-hair shouted. We seperated ways, down the hallways to the brothel-sections. The loan sharks would go back to their work in gaining new prostitutes and we'd be left the brothel mostly to ourselves. Well, locked in our respective main rooms. We were to keep it tidy and well-maintained for the night.
“Really though, what can we do?", asked Muscle Mike, puffing up a cushion, to nobody in particular, except maybe to what god might have been watching us. Muscle Mike was an atheist. He believed in himself more then any deity, so probably just to himself.
“I have a crazy idea. Maybe one of us report the plans to management and have them handle it", i replied.
“Would that not get category V angrier?", he said.
"Not if i handle it", said Skinny Joe.
At some time later, the paid werewolves started coming back into the brothel through the side entrance. The sun had put-put across the sky quite far by now. Each of the prostitutes found their seat and began their nervous games, their nervous tip-tapping, their waiting.
And i watched as the time came for the clientele to come in; the already-waiting queue poured in first, followed by the meager but consistent flow that began taking away prostitutes, several in groups.
I sat waiting as i watched the cash began flowing from customers to the workers. Well, not to the workers so much as to the management. The real prostitutes made sure to mentally log the transactions. I'm sure they were getting a cut. The occasional clink of coins a kind of soundscape to the tired semi-green banknotes moving between hands, pairs of bodies walking off into the sex rooms.
Conversation ran around the air in sultry and bassy tones, seductionary fakery to in a ploy to knabber more green.
A werewolf walked up to us. A potential client.
Black-arms was still supervising me, still sitting next to me. He was always out of place on these human-sized sofas. They were probably the highest quality sofas in the damn brothel. Maybe they'd been stolen from the human world, a bit like i was.
It made our potential client seem slightly confused.
“I didn't know normies got to take category I…?", he said. "
“Ah, no, it's because we have a newbie.", explained black-arms. “Normies for newbies, as we all know!"
He made a wry little smile at his little rule.
“If you had seen who we call, er, Muscle Miguel… no, Mike, here for his first few days, you'd see he had me too", said black-arms.
“Ah, ok. I'll have the skimpy one here, then", said the new client, to nobody at particular.
Skinny Joe…? Wait, no, he's casting his gaze at me. It sent butterflies into me for some reason.
It was weird. If i had to explain it, i'd say it was the fact this body was giving me attention. I felt very special.
“Oh, actually, i'd like to have two skimpy humans… that'd be more interesting", he said. “Let me tell you, like right now, about the fantasy i have. I want to be like, in control of two humans but i want them to like, fight against me and take over, and i want to be, like, dominated"
“That's certainly very possible", said black-arms. “Well, it'd cost quite a bit; category Is are very valuable!"
“Certainly, around ¤150 for each for the first part, and then maybe ¤200 for the next part", he said. “That's, er, take the 3 and add it to the 4, ¤500 in total."
“Ah, that's not too bad actually!", the werewolf said.
Wait, how did the economy even work here? How much is the currency worth? Is it really equal to my euro? Probably not. €500 would be really cheap in my home country. I'd have to leave these questions for later; my supervisor was already ushering us to the sex rooms.
“Would you like to have me tag along to give some direction?", black-arms asked.
“I've got plenty of direction to give", said skinny Joe. “Just explain and i'll have you just what you need!"
“Hmm… if that's true, then maybe", our client said. “I don't really like other werewolves in my fantasies."
I quickly thought of the human equivalent of this and then i saw you, the reader.
The cash was moved, a key was taken and the three of us, the client, i, and Skinny Joe, went off to a sex room.
“So, this is what i want: I want to be controlling you. Once you get to the dick, i want you to be disgusted and then hold me down. One of you sits on my face and the other holds down my hands", he said. “And what the face-sitter does next is dominate my ass whilst the hand-holder sucks the dick."
Wow, niche interests...
Skinny joe took a little breath and opened his mouth to speak but closed it as our client continued.
"But I'm not even done yet; i want there to be like, a real fight for control. Make it seem like your life depends on you taking over so i can fight hard against you."
Skinny joe tried to speak again.
"I'll give you both more money if i don't have to hold back for my fantasy", our client added, oblivious.
Skinny joe finally got a word in. "Ok, so who do you think should be the face-sitter? I think I'd be best", he said with a hint of sultriness in his tone. “Newbie here has no idea what he's doing."
"Yeah, I'd love it if you did", said our client. "I've had good experiences with you..."
Well, that was agreed now.
“And the vocals, should we like, tease you?", i asked.
“Only after taking over!", replied the client
“Oh, and what do we do before?"
“Shut up and accept it!"
“Wait, what's the safe word?", i asked. “Not that we, er, need one."
"Lets go for 'the minutes of the 1975 general assembly on transcontinental shipping and transportation of hazardous and perishable goods in British waters'", Skinny Joe joked. "You know, because i had to suffer for hours studying it... I needed a safe-word to escape my job, ha ha"
He laughed a dying laughter, a joke poorly received. He ended up just holding back his little giggles.
"That's a really shitty one! Lets just go for 'safeword'", said the client.
"Let's start!", announced our client. Followed by an enthusiastic “yeah" from skinny joe and a slightly less enthusiastic but still affirmative “let's go" from me.
"You're mine now. Go massage these legs", started our client. “And i don't want no fighting back!"
We, in a faux reluctance, spread some lube on our hands and began rubbing at the hairy legs. We were careful to look for sensitive, sensual points, and we made sure to start at the lower calves to give us the most time whilst moving up.
We made him moan. He came up with new nicknames. I was still "newbie" but skinny joe was called "slave". It irritated him, well, seemed to.
Eventually, i used my hands to get deep into his legs.
"Stop slacking off, slave!"
Skinny Joe began to copy my technique
We continued rubbing his great legs, making him start to moan. Skinny Joe still struggled with doing it right.
I found a technique to get our client happy; keep the thumb as a kind of opposition, push it perpendicular to the fingers, keep a kind of squeezing motion on the muscle.
In, out in, out, in. Give those lovely, spacious calves some love!
We slowly moved up, past his kneecaps. We made sure to give the big depression found behind the caps a kind of deeper, sensitive rub.
As we grabbed onto those thighs, i relished in the size and just the volume of the muscle, rigid enough it tired our hands out But we still rubbed and rubbed, sending our client into a more moany and moany headspace. They loved this so much. Why were werewolves always so touch-deprived?
Eventually, Skinny Joe's hands made their way through the thigh, just about reaching the testes.
He faux-gagged but kept going, a little further back down the thigh. He whispered to me that on the count of three, we push the client back onto the mattress. A kind of sultry whisper, a mischievous one.
3.
2.
1.
With a sudden stop and a jump, we pushed on his pecs, Skinny Joe jumping straight onto the confused face and i grabbing at the wrists.
The client shook like crazy, trying to escape me, but i kept sat on his lap. He was writhing now, trying to escape my grip. I held them tight for dear life. His claws were coming dangerously close to my arms, but i kept them away.
“Nawww, the big bad werewolf can't even defeat two skimpy humans. Go get a grip!", teased Skinny Joe. Oh, don't get a grip, dumb werewolf.
More writhing as he desperately tried to escape. It almost felt real. Maybe it was; arses can block breathing quite well.
“Now then, go lick this arse, not that you have any choice!"
The wrists tensed up but suddenly relaxed. I put them on my thighs as i used my own hands to grab onto the red shaft, growing steadily erect between my half-erect member and his belly, well, more rather, “discreet sex 6-pack".
“Aw, the werewolf is getting off to licking some human's arse! So pathetic!", i teased at him.
I grabbed the dick with my two hands, the fingers clenching around my thighs. I slowly, teasingly, rubbed at the member, keeping the client's hands clenched to my tingling thighs in an involuntary sign of enjoyment.
I got more connected with the dick, rubbing it up and down, using slow, teasing, strokes to keep the werewolf on edge.
Without any warning, Skinny Joe jamp up and slapped on a condom and some lube. He revealed a slightly confused but mostly aroused face, one that was likely getting its money's worth.
“Now then, i'm going to put my dick in your arse. You lick newbie's arse now."
I kind of knelt above the client's mouth parts, facing his dick.
I bent down to get ready to suck off the member. I could smell a very strong musk, a kind of air-based Viagra, coming from the droplet of precum that was now swelling as he took his tongue and rubbed my buttocks, grabbing my waist and pulling me onto his lips. His tongue made contact with my arse ring. He was intent of teasing it, sending me off, maybe to relieve himself of the tension Skinny Joe was building up.
I lent down further. I took my tongue and touched it to the precum droplet, the surface tension making the viscous droplet stick to my skin. Skinny Joe got into position at his arse, his dick standing proudly at the entrance.
I slowly embraced the tip with my lips, using a repetitive strong-soft-strong-soft pattern to tease it. The werewolf, though, let go of my waist with one of his hands and pushed my head down onto my member. This, though, gave Skinny Joe the excuse to grab the werewolf's thighs for the support needed to push his dick into the hole. My hair began brushing against Skinny Joe's belly, tickling him a little.
I took began to suck harder at it as i went up and down, his tongue in my arse giving me such a high.
Eventually, after several movements, we all came.
First, it was Slim Joe, who came with a satisfied sigh, leading to the client to suddenly cum inside my mouth. I swallowed the almost salty, bitter seed. He, with one final lick, made me go over the edge. It was a deep, internal kind of pleasure, something that built like waves on a beach in a rapidly-increasing tide,
I moaned, dropping some of the client's cum onto his body. We stayed interlocked for a little while, relishing in the post-orgasm glow, a kind of shared heat which brought us together and kept us warm.
After the sex we returned to the brothel.
"You did much better, newbie, i've heard" said black-arms.
"But you need to get better, i've heard", he said, directed at skinny Joe. "We'll have to fire you, and that'll be bad for everyone!"
A wry smile at his own little joke.
Time passed through the night. There was always something happening in the main room, from raised voices over some disagreement to the various clients that came to one of us, twice me.
I made a good amount of money that night, some 750.
Eventually it was the time the brothel to close. A small dinner in the main cafeteria before we retired to the bedroom.
It wasn't quiet there. It wasn't so much of a bedroom as a common space.
Sleep wouldn't be for another few hours, it seemed, even if the sunset had been 6 hours past.
I was next to a wall dividing the various wings of the brothel. I had a bed nearby the lesbian quarter.
I heard a loud whistle. Just in the room, afront the main door, stood Yellow-arms.
“Category II prostitute 7 to meeting room", he said.
He and one werewolf left the room.
I heard the same noise through the thin walls of the lesbian room.
“I don't think they made enough last night. They'll be 'punished', AKA made to calculate for straight-ears all night", explained Skinny Joe. “I was sent there once. There are way too many numbers."
“You're with three others doing the same calculation and you're supervised by a real prostitute to ensure theres never any fraud", said Muscle Mike. “Redundancy is part of the punishment."
I imagined how i might feel in the same situation. It'd drive me mad, possibly.
"Are you tired too?", i heard through the wall. "You'll never pay off the debt, will you?"
It was intended for the people from that room but the thin walls made conversations quite between wings trivial.
I heard a reply from my side, a manly, almost exhausted voice.
"Yeah. What do you want to do about it, though?"
"Let's arrange for a strike out in two days, to go on until the brothel is bankrupt."
"Ah-ha, and...?"
"If we keep the clientele from giving us money, the brothel dies and we'll be free!"
It was an optimistic voice, possibly dumbly so.
"Would we not be sent to prison?"
"We have plenty lawyers and we'll be certain to keep you from prison; you never chose to go here, remember!"
Fuck, we forgot about that. Prison is avoidable, it turns out.
"Maybe we should arrange a deal...", said the masculine voice. "We'll stop the strike if our debt is quartered and we get a bigger cut"
“Yeah! Spread the word!"
"If the brothel dies, I'll die, too!", i exclaimed in shock. “The police hate us humans!"
"Yes, and?", they responded in an almost furious tone. "Look, we couldn't care less about you elitist assholes! You make most of the money and you have no right to complain!"
"We couldn't give less of a fuck about you and your management, you corrupt assholes!", a voice added.
"As you can tell, We're fucked", muscle Mike, in the bunk below me, grimly noted. "Nobody here cares for us because they see us as the elite."
I took a bit of the tired, grey breakfast. It was almost flavourless, a kind of nutrient-free mush. It fit the mood, really.
I had only this day to get this strike to end.
They'd agreed to a specific rationalisation as to what would stop them; a half of their loan and a bigger cut. They probably had more then ten years in this damned place when i had just 400 days. I put that number through my head. It was a year and a third, basically. I just needed to hold the brothel together and i'd be safe.
Today, I'd go talk to black arms with my coworkers, i decided to myself.
I talked with the other humans in the lesbian bedroom. Nobody really cared for sexuality-segregation in the morning hours, and this room had the fewest sleepers.
“We're fucked", Muscle Mike stated. “We're fucked beyond belief and the brothel is going to die."
“I don't think there's anything we could do", Chad said.
"I think we could at least do something... Do we have anything for leverage against the management?", asked the first lesbian. “You two are too damn narcissistic!"
"We are the highest earning members, aren't we?", suggested slim Joe. "It's risky, but we could arrange our own strike, right?"
"They can kick us out, though. If they can't get money from us, they have a simple", the second lesbian mused. “They might just negotiate with us and we'll find a compromise. Either that or, if the negotiation fails, they'll take us into the street and let us fend for ourselves, AKA being killed."
"That's too risky, damn you", Muscle Mike stated.
“Maybe it's worth a try, though", said Skinny Joe.
"Wait, no, i have a safer idea! We just tell them that the strike's about to happen and 60% the income of the brothel might just disappear!", i exclaimed. “Straight-ears is kind of materialistic, right?"
"It's a good suggestion, but we only have, like, two days", said the first lesbian. "Wait, no only one now"
"Lets just try something… ok , we'll try this and see what they say by lunchtime", said the third lesbian. “I have faith that they won't let us die; they won't let such great moneymakers just disappear!"
“I'll go do it, and if it doesn't work out, we can find something else to do", i said. “And that something else might just as well be starting an anti-strike movement. You mentioned real prostitutes, didn't you, Muscle Mike?"
“Yeah, you already know three here, but…" he said. “The others, we just don't know who they are. And if they managed to rile up action against the strike, they'd lose their jobs for being found out."
“I only know two, though!", i said, thinking of Mr Troy and Skinny Joe (but was he really that much of a real prostitute?).
“Well, there's Ortil", he said in a hushed tone. “Oh, wait, you don't know her yet!"
Ortil, what a strange name!
“Hi, yeah, i'm basically the straight female Skinny Joe", she said. “I was a prostitute but my pimp was too abusive, so i left. I needed a loan, and look where i am now!"
“I've paid it off and i'm building a hefty sum in my bank account, but i see no reason to spend any yet", she explained.
“And your name… where from?" i asked
“Oh, it's just a silly nickname. I used to be called Señorita Fértil by my co-workers, for my libido, but it contracted, a bit like Anista here", she replied. “You already know her name comes from 'One Night Stand'. What silly names we come up with!"
“Could we not just use your money to find a way to mediate the loan?", i asked, somewhat naïvely.
“Do you know just how old i am? I want to retire early! It's my money!", the shocked Ortil responded. I had struck a nerve, quite the spicy one, too.
“I guess we'll have to find other ways of making things work, eh", i said.
“Breakfast over!", black-arms shouted.
We all went off to our separate wings and found ways to occupy ourselves.
“Maybe i should go talk", i said.
"Let's go together", Skinny Joe said. “We'll do better as a unit."
All of us, save for Mr Troy, a kind of statue of thought, stayed. Black-ears was pulled with us instead.
Skinny Joe guided us through a maze of hallways, passing the stinking sex rooms, past some “staff-only; no fucking whores" signs (likely installed by the manager), the various offices and cash rooms, and into the staff break-room, where we saw yellow-hair.
“Why are you in the management-only room?! Werewolves only, at least!", the angered werewolf said.
“It's very important, they said", said the black-armed werewolf. “Let them talk."
Skinny joe started. “There's some strike brewing. They want to bankrupt the place."
“Is that so…?" the yellow-haired creature said. "They won't succeed. We have three wings and if one breaks down, we're not fucked."
“No, it's all the wings!", i exclaimed.
“Oh, fuck", said yellow-hair. "I'll threaten them with prison then if they dare strike."
“Aren't some of our workers lawyers, though?", i said. “And they have the argument that they were forced into work here, don't they? There's an exemption for forced prostitution."
“Oh… er… it was in the terms and conditions, right?" he said.
"They were in very ambiguous language. Who wrote it, a snail?", said Skinny Joe. “You cant just say that they agree to forced employment here, you know, without the correct workplace licenses and forms as required clearly by the General Workplace Ethics and Humanity, Year-190. It's not 'employment', it's slavery!"
“I can, it's fully legally binding, right? So then we can use the contract as a way to sta-", said the yellow-haired werewolf
“Prostitution is illegal, and thusly, by the Permissible Contractual Rights And Obligations Agreement of Year-57, you cannot have them work here by any circumstances!", he said.
"we bribe the police, don't we? I'm sure they'll let us send them to prison!", said the werewolf.
“Not really; you won't have any money to bribe them", replied Skinny Joe. “Go get the rest of management. We need to have a meeting to unpack this."
The yellow-haired werewolf left, leaving us with black-arms.
“What conditions are there on the strike?", he said.
“If i remember, it was to have the loans quartered and the cut towards their loan being raised to 40%", i said.
“Oh, damn, that's really steep", he said. “consult straight-ears."
Yellow-hair, straight-ears, and the manager entered this room.
“Explain again?", said the manager. “Shit, no, let's first go to the meeting room."
We followed the old hag into a large room, outside the staff-only area, in which a very long but not very wide table sat. There were five chairs door-side and about 20 wall-side.
“We usually teach theory to the prostitutes here, so that's why we have such a table", explained black-arms. “You know, negotiation and other important things."
“You should do that more often", said the manager. “I don't like how little we've made."
“No, the log shows that the lower categories have been, so to say, 'slacking off'", said straight-ears.
“Ok, so explain this shit", said the manager. “So, they're organising a strike, right?"
“Yes, right. The categories from V to IV will be on strike for about a week. They want their loans quartered and an increase in their cut of the pay, to about 40%", said Skinny Joe.
“That means ends won't meet", said straight-ears. “Each category V prostitute only makes ¤50 a night."
“That means they spend decades paying off their debt, though", Skinny Joe said. “Of course they want a strike"
“I have an idea. Let's go for a compromise; half the loan and a 30% cut", said skinny Joe.
“Tight, but it's possible to turn a profit off that", commented straight-ears.
“I'll go contact them and we'll see what they say", said black-arms.
“What if they say no?", i asked.
“They're free to go to jail. I'll send them once every hour. The lawyers can be killed", said the manager. “Well, only if shit turns to shit", he added, almost nonchalantly.
“That's horrible!" black arms protested.
“No, we enter negotiations with the main ones and find a way to keep them silent", he said.
“We'll see what we can do", he said.
“Meeting paused", said yellow-hair.
We went our separate ways.
It was night again and just the time for prostitutes to enter yet again
Black-arms stood guard at the door, taking away the occasional prostitute. At the point when everyone had come back (save for the few newbies who thought they could escape; they'd be later hunted down and captured), i and the other humans of the gay branch were called for negotiations upstairs.
Back in the main meeting room, there were all the humans, a wide array of prostitutes from all sides, and some new werwolves i hadnt seen. Based on their position at the table, i guessed that they were other managers.
"I've gathered you all today about the strike action that's been arranged for tomorrow", said yellow-hair. “We all have a stake in these strikes and i th-"
“Shut up.", said the manager. “Stop with the shitty buisness words and get to the fucking point. I don't have the damn time."
“You idiot whores are calling for some shitty one-week strike just to fuck with us, right?!", he screamed. “I've already had to deal with this shit back 10 years ago and i'm not letting this shit happen again!"
“Well, er, all we really ask for i-", began a prostitute
“I don't give a fuck about what you want. You could handle this maturely but you idiots decided to put up an attitude!", he hollered.
Yeah, black-arms., you were right He just does get angry sometimes!
“Calm down!", black-arms said firmly, a strong dollop of seriousness with his words. “Be civil or i'll kick you out!"
Straight-ears, yellow-hair, and the various other managers nodded in some kind of agreement.
The manager produced a bar of hematogen and bit into it. He sipped from a flask too, a strong smell of iron hitting my nostrils.
“As i was saying, before i was so damn rudely inter-", began yellow-arms. "As i was saying, there's a strike impending. So far, they've aksed for quarter the loan and 30% the pay, right?"
“Well, no", said a prostitute. “We'd like 50% of the cut and indeed, and yeah, a quartering of our initial loan."
“I've looked at the books. Not possible", said straight-ears. “We can do three-quarters the loan and a 20% cut"
Hey, those aren't the figures initially mentioned! Was he using his negotiation skills against the students? Had they surpassed the teacher?
“As if! And when am i ever going to leave this damn place?", the prostitute said. “I've already spent 4 years here and i'm sick of it!"
A general nod of agreement from all the prostitutes.
“The lowest personally i could do is a 25% cut and a half-loan", said a different one.
“For me, 40% and a quarter-loan", said another one.
“Nonsense! The lowest we can go without going bankrupt and, of course, sending you to prison, is the aforementioned three-quarters of the loan and 20% cut!", said straight-ears.
“Didn't we mention other numbers?" i asked.
“Shh!", black-arms explained.
“Yeah, it was half the loan and 30%, right?" said skinny joe.
“No, it was one eight and 90%, though!", lied Muscle Mike.
“Shut up", said straight-ears, irritated at all three of us. “Yes, we did agree to half the loan and 30%", he reluctantly admitted. “But that doesn't mean you get to have it for free."
“Ha! You liars!", triumphantly said one of the prostitutes. “I always knew that we were underpaid!"
“Calm it the fuck down", said yellow-hair."Straight-ears, break down the money flow"
“Per person per night, we make an average of about ¤300. We then take like 15% and toss it into the loan, about 30% goes into catering, 30% into bribes, and the final 25% into so-called 'other expenses'"
“And what are these other expenses?", asked the prostitute.
“er, some of it goes to us. obviously, and, eer-", said straight-ears
“Not enough!", complained the manager
“Yeah, some to us, some to utilities, and into tax", said straight-ears.
“Wait, we pay tax? I thought prostitution was illegal!", i said.
“Yeah, we're still a business; a restaurant offering spicy goods", he explained. “We pay the police to look past what might be called 'food hygiene inspections'"
"We might be illegal, but we still need to keep the governme-"
“That's beside the point. a 30% cut is fine, i guess", said a prostitute, interrupting.
Every other prostitute seemed to agree.
“And the cut of the loan… can we pay just, like, 40% of our original loan instead?"
A nod of acceptance around the prostitutes.
“Well, possibly", said straight ears.
“I wouldn't be opposed", said the manager, having calmed down in the course of chewing on hematogen. A nod around the room. “But, there are some conditions."
“First, you little shits, i want to establish a strong hierarchy. You, prostitute III-1", he said, gesturing at the prostitute who had suggested the offer. “You manage the categories III, IV, and V from the straight wing."
“All categories have a designated manager. I don't want softshark here having to handle all your dumb requests."
“Slim Joe, you manage the humans, all of them", he said. “You collaborate with human managers Otil and the First lesbian to handle wing-specific matters. Any strike will go through them, first."
“That's a requirement. Handle this shit yourselves. I have things to do, damn you!"
"I don't want to be stirred at all
“sssh", said black-arms. “Let's go for a simple split: humans and management work together to keep the brothel in good shape, and maybe the others can keep the place, let's say, receptive to clientele, AKA with good working conditions. That's for you, big boss."
"We'll have to cut someone's wage to make this a better place to work, i guess", said the manager. “Oh, category I, why can't you give us some of your wage?"
“We already do.", said Muscle Mike. “Use that."
“It's possible", said straight-ears. “But we still need some extra if we want to keep the workers here!"
“Another condition: No strikes or riots allowed!", said the manager. “Just keep in line."
“Yeah, so, to conclude…", said yellow-hair. “We'll be giving some of you new responsibilities but you'll get a 30% cut instead and your loans will be halved. Well, save for category I, who so selflessly paid for this!"
“Not cool", said muscle mike.
“It will have to be cool", responded black-arms.
“Meeting over!"
That night i heard word not of a strike but something else.
“We can always gang up against them… the humans, right?"
“Yeah, we can do that tommorow!"
“And freedom is ours!"
The end (stay tuned for part 4 where we discuss violence!)
Some notes:
- The year-system measures time since the werewolves were first developed by a scientific experiment. Given it was in the 1800s, year-190 would be relatively recently.