For the Pleasure of Men
Read For the Pleasure of Men Online
Authors: Nora Weaving
PAID FOR PLEASURE:
A Harem Masters Novel
By
Nora Weaving
Kindle Edition
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PUBLISHED BY:
Infinite Muse Press on Amazon KDP
Paid For Pleasure: A Harem Masters Novel
Copyright © 2013 by Nora Weaving
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
Adult Reading Material
The material in this document contains explicit sexual content that is intended for mature audiences only and is inappropriate for readers under 18 years of age.
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PAID FOR PLEASURE:
A Harem Masters Novel
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Table of contents:
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Chapter One
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Kalliope stayed in the shadows, watching the other women move in and out of the darkness. Kalliope knew this place well, she had been here most of her life. She watched Kassandra, the favorite of the men, saunter into the waiting area and move towards one of the men. The man smiled a sideways grin, clearly having enjoyed the wine that was offered. He seemed to not believe his good fortune in having been given Kassandra. Clumsily, he stood up, brushing the dirt from his cloak. Kassandra swayed in front of him, leading the way, her somewhat-dirty peplos dragging on the ground behind her. All of the women wore some type of peplos, or dress, but Kassandra's was by far the nicest.
“Tomorrow night,” Gaia whispered in Kalliope's ear.
Gaia was standing beside her, smiling, as she watched her girls satisfy the customers. Gaia was the closest thing Kalliope had to a mother and she had been more than good to her. Many of the girls in Gaia’s brothel had been put to work when they were fourteen, fifteen or sixteen. Gaia had allowed Kalliope to continue to earn her keep through her seventeenth year. But here on the eve of her eighteenth birthday, Kalliope knew that tomorrow she would become the brothel’s newest addition.
Kalliope gave Gaia a weak smile and hurried back to the kitchen where she quickly busied herself. It had been twelve years since Kalliope had seen her family and she wondered what they were doing now and what their lives were like. She refused to be bitter about the hand she had been dealt, but she sometimes found it hard. Her mother had died during childbirth when Kalliope was only six years old. The infant son had survived and her father had barely shed a tear over his wife’s death. Her father believed that wives were only worth the fruit they could bear, and until that very moment, Kalliope’s mother had been useless, bearing three girls before the son.
Her father had taken to the son immediately, hiring a wet nurse, Minthe, to care for the boy. Kalliope’s oldest sister Hagne had immediately taken over the household chores, cooking and cleaning. But Kalliope’s father complained tirelessly of his three girls and what he would do with them. Hagne had been seventeen, an appropriate marrying age, and within three weeks of their mother’s death, Hagne had been married off to a family who lived in the next village.
Kalliope wept for a week.
Kalliope’s other sister, Ligeia, was fourteen years old, and she quickly filled Hagne’s role and began to care for the household. But still their father complained of the two extra mouths to feed and within a month, Ligeia had been sold to a neighboring farm. Ligeia would work on the farm and when she was old enough to bear children, she would wed the farmer’s son.
That time Kalliope had wept for two weeks.
Kalliope had tried to cook, but she was still so young. She burned food, which infuriated her father, and she often went days without eating. Her fingernails would be caked with dirt and she remembered hiding out in the yard, looking for scraps or berries to eat. Her father didn’t bother to look for her and he only seemed interested in his son. While her father was busy working, Kalliope remembered sneaking into her mother’s room and fingering her fine peploses. Her mother had a closet full of beautiful gowns and Kalliope wept for the mother she had lost. All love and kindness seemed to have left Kalliope’s world.
She tried desperately to please her father, trying to cook and keep the house clean. One time she put on one of her mother’s garments, only to have her father go into a rage when he saw her dressed in the brightly hued garment, the fabric much too long and dragging on the floor. After that incident, Kalliope spent most of her time hiding in the attic and playing outdoors.
Kalliope began to notice her father paying more attention to the wet nurse, Minthe. He would watch her nurse the baby and when the baby was done nursing, her father would play with Minthe’s breasts, gently rubbing them before wrapping his mouth around them. Kalliope watched with fascinated horror and finally had to look away when Minthe began to moan softly.
Her father began to hang around the house more, and Kalliope would hear funny noises coming from the room where her father and Minthe would reside. Minthe began spending more time at the house, cooking and cleaning. Kalliope tried to be friendly to her, but Minthe would snap at her, or strike her, yelling for Kalliope to get out of her sight.
One day Kalliope was sneaking downstairs when she had seen Minthe dressed in her mother’s best gown. Kalliope had lunged at Minthe, yelling and crying for Minthe to take off her mother’s dress. Kalliope’s father walked in to see Kalliope pulling at the dress and screaming. He picked up Kalliope and struck her before locking her in the cellar. Minthe and her father didn’t try to mask the noise as her father fucked Minthe in the kitchen. Kalliope could see everything through a cracked stone, and she turned her back on the disgusting image of the whorish wet nurse wearing her mother’s best peplos as her father drilled into her from behind.
Kalliope shuddered as she continued to scrub the pots and pans in Gaia’s kitchen, recalling the not so distant memories. The day after her father had locked her in the cellar was emblazoned in her mind…
“Baba, where are we going?” Kalliope asked as she stumbled after her father. She hoped he was not mad at her anymore. She had told him she was sorry, but she was not sorry to Minthe.
Minthe did not deserve her apology.
“Just keep up,” her father huffed as he pulled her along the dirt road. They had walked through town and were now going down a street Kalliope had never seen before.
“Baba, why do you love baby brother so much?”
Her father ignored the question and continued to pull Kalliope along.
“Baba, when will I see Hagne and Ligeia again?”
“You won’t.”
“Ever?” Her lower lip trembled. Hagne and Ligeia promised they would see her again. They said that sisters were forever and they would all be sisters back together again soon.
Her father didn’t answer and Kalliope felt two fat tears trickle down her cheeks. She missed her sisters, but most of all she missed her mama. She hated her baby brother but she was too afraid to tell her father. Yesterday he had hit her hard. Hard enough to leave big dark marks and for Kalliope’s skin to ache. Then he and Minthe did the dirty thing in the kitchen.
Kalliope saw everything and she did not like it.
Finally, a stone building emerged and Kalliope looked hard at the building. It was big, but it looked crude. It did not look like a place she wanted to visit. She clung harder to her father’s hand.
“Baba,” she whispered.
“Shush!”
Kalliope shrank back.
Her father knocked hard and a woman answered. Kalliope couldn’t tell if she was old or young. Her face was kind however and she smiled at Kalliope. A shy as she was, Kalliope smiled back, before ducking behind her father’s legs.
“Good afternoon, sir. Please come in. We have a place the child can sit while we attend to your business,” she said slyly.
Her father bristled at the woman.
“That’s not why I’m here. I want to sell you my daughter.”
The woman laughed. “Very funny. Even here, we have age rules. I’m afraid she’s too young.”
“She must be worth something,” he wagered, undeterred. “You must need a cook. A maid? Someone to clean up after your whores.”
The woman narrowed her eyes. “Watch your tongue,” she hissed. “Can you cook?” she asked Kalliope.
Kalliope knew she could not cook much. “A little,” she said quietly, embarrassed.
“Why don’t you want her?” the woman asked.
“She’s of no use to me. My wife died and I have married off and sold my other two teenage daughters. This one is too young. I have no use for her and I want no business in raising a girl.”
“You are the weaver from across the town.” The woman’s voice was hard and cold; it reminded Kalliope of an angry snake.
Her father shrugged. “So what?”
“Heartless,” she spat.
The woman bent down and smiled at Kalliope. Her smile was warm like honey and her eyes crinkled just a little.
“I’m Gaia,” she said kindly, “what is your name.”
“Kalliope.”
“That’s beautiful. Do you sing, Sweet Girl, like your name implies?”
Kalliope shook her head. She used to sing with her mother.
She didn’t sing any more because the songs only made the tears come.
“Well, we shall change that. Why don’t you come inside with me?” She held her hand out for Kalliope.
Kalliope looked at her father to see if it was okay.
Her father gave her a gruff nod.
Kalliope took Gaia’s hand.
It was worn and soft. It was strong and Kalliope felt safe. Gaia pulled her into the building.
“I will give you nothing for her. Let your payment be that I have taken her off your hands. And do not ever show your face at my establishment again.”
“Baba?” Kalliope asked as Gaia began to lead her away. But when she turned around to look, her father was already heading down the road.
“Baba!” she screamed, “Baba! Come back!”
She tried to run for the door, but Gaia held her back.
“It’s alright, Kalliope, I have you.” She hugged her tight.
“Baba! Baba!” she cried again and again.
Her father never turned around.
“Sweet child. Thea Gaia has you now. Auntie Gaia will keep you safe.”
Kalliope finished with the kitchen and she hurried off to the women’s quarters. There were nine women who worked in the brothel and they shared two rooms’ worth of living quarters. For nearly twelve years, Kalliope had kept the living quarters clean. She had certainly earned her keep in the brothel and Gaia had been more than pleased with her. While she had referred to Gaia as her auntie, Thea Gaia, she had truly been more like a mother.
