"There's no way I'm doing that," Lucy said, gesturing at the sign with a nod. "You can paint it up all you want, but I'm not..."
"Course you are," the ghoul cut in smoothly.
He picked at his teeth with a sliver of bone, like he had all the time in the world. "Or I can sell you for parts. Your choice."
"You—you wouldn’t." She tries to keep her voice steady, but even she hears it break.
He sighs, long and slow, like he’s explaining to a particularly thick-headed child. "Got no use for anyone ain’t pulling their weight. Every cap I don’t make off of you is a cap I lose."
Lucy shifts uncomfortably, feeling the ropes that are tying her hands biting into her skin. "I’ll—I’ll work in a kitchen."
"That don’t pay nothing," he says.
"Cleaning then."
"Nah," he drawls. "Who cares about anything being clean these days."
She’s silent for a moment, watching him paint another letter with meticulous care. "What about..." Her voice is small when she finally asks, "What about guns?"
A short bark of laughter escapes him, harsh and rattling. "You? With a gun? Surefire way to get us all killed."
She clenches her fists. "I’m not—"
He cuts her off with a wave of his hand, yellowed nails catching the light like old ivory. "You are what you are. Ain’t gonna change it by pretendin’ otherwise."
There’s a long pause where words pile up in her throat but come out as nothing more than a stifled noise.
"Best decide quick," he says calmly, dipping the brush again.
"Fine!" she snaps, her eyes bright with what could be tears or fury or both. "But I’m not doing it here! Out in the open like some kind of—"
"Slut?" he finishes for her, then shrugs nonchalantly. "Where else you gonna do it? Costs too much to rent a room."
She presses her lips together so hard they go white.
Her shoulders slump. She thinks of the girls she's seen on street corners, their faces hollowed out by hunger and desperation, and wonders how many thought they’d never end up there either.
"Just do it proper," he says, almost an afterthought but not quite.
"What?" Her head snaps up.
"Ain’t gonna pay you if you half-ass it." He squints at his handiwork on the sign and nods in satisfaction.
"You mean...act like I want to?" The very idea seems absurd enough to laugh at.
He gives another one of his slow shrugs. "Dignity’s nice when you can afford it."
She blew out a long breath. “Okay then,” she said finally, squaring her shoulders and forcing her arms down from their knot across her chest. “But I’m not doing any of that anal stuff.”
“Ohhhh,” he said with a slow chuckle. “Yes you are.”
* * *
Five minutes later, Lucy was on her knees in the dirt.
The men came quickly, drawn by the sign’s promise like flies to carrion.
The first one loomed over her, unzipping his pants to reveal a cock that seemed impossibly large. She froze for a moment, but he just laughed and grunted at her to hurry it up. She opened her mouth and closed her eyes, imagining she was somewhere else.
But the ghoul was right: they wouldn’t pay if she half-assed it.
She tried to move her tongue the way she imagined someone who wanted to do this would, flicking it along the sides of him until he groaned. When he finally pulled out and came on her face, she felt more relief than shame. He murmured something that might have been thanks and tossed his caps at her feet before walking off. They bounced off her legs, clinking against each other as they hit the ground.
The second man wasn’t much different—huge and impatient and greasy with sweat—but without the shock of the first, she found herself almost able to bear it. Her jaw ached by the time he finished, but not as much as it did when he smeared himself across her cheek
“Why they always gotta cum on my face?” she muttered as he strolled away.
“Cause you’re a pretty picture like that,” the ghoul said matter-of-factly from where he squatted nearby. “And cause they can.”
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He didn’t bother untying her hands between customers, just wiped her off with a rag and waited for the next one to show up.
“Why’s no one paying for handjobs?” Lucy asked after number three—a wiry little bastard with a cock so absurdly thick she almost gagged—stumbled away with a contented sigh.
“Maybe they don’t want your dainty little hands touching ‘em,” the ghoul suggested with a grin. “Not when there’s other parts more suited.”
She glared at him, but under the cum and grime, it had less effect than usual.
By the fourth man, she knew what to expect: another massive cock, another load across her nose and lips when he yanked out at the end. It was humiliating, every second of it, but it paid more than she thought possible for something so quick. She started counting caps instead of minutes.
“You’re getting used to this,” the ghoul observed smugly when number five approached—tall and quiet with calloused fingers that were almost gentle in Lucy’s hair.
“Shut u... mmph,” she started to say but was cut off by the cock in her mouth.
When this last one finished and left his spatter cooling on her skin, she spat onto the dirt and shook her head like a dog shedding water.
“At least no one’s paid for pussy or anal yet.”
“Ohhhh,” said the ghoul with a faint smile. “They will...”
Lucy looked down at herself: filthy and tied up in front of him like livestock or worse. She let out a long breath and shoved back against despair with all the force of stubbornness she could muster.
"Speaking of which," the ghoul said, "I think it's time we lost the suit. Need to show the wares if you want to make the sale."
Lucy's eyes widened, "No... no way I'm just standing out there naked on the street!"
The ghoul just shook his head at her, "Business is business girlie. Ain't nothing personal."
TO BE CONTINUED!
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