Ch 3 - Honest Hookers
Was it smart for a prostitute to tell the customer she is addicted to sex?
An argument broke out. Alvdis was standing with another muscular looking girl. Both of them got into a heated argument with the girls who had dragged Emmet into the changing room.
"Girls, the house rules says you are not supposed to mob guests like that," Alvdis said. "Guests are supposed to have freedom to pick girls freely themselves."
"But we found him first!" Vigdis insisted. There was a slight desperation in her voice.
"Look at him!" Alvdis said. "He looks like a scared little rabbit. You girls scared the poor boy."
All the girls started protesting loudly as if greatly insulted. "No, we haven't! Haven't we been kind to you Emmet?" the neon green-haired girl said, almost pleading.
Emmet didn't know what to respond. "Eh...," was all he could produce. They had been bullies. They had just torn his clothes off without his consent.
The muscular girl smirked, as if saying: "looks like you girls are full of shit."
"Doesn't sound like he agrees," Alvdis said. "Look at him, he is almost shaking." Alvdis took Emmets hand and pulled him gently towards her. The other girls let go of him. "Come here with me, Emmet. I will take care of you."
"Emmet, we didn't mean to be mean! We are so sorry," the girls started pleading. Desperation was rising in their voices. The little rabbit they had looked forward to suckling on and devouring was escaping their claws. Another predator was taking their food.
"I am Alvdis and this is my friend Trude," Alvdis said, gesticulating towards the muscular woman next to her. Both of them put their arms around Emmet in a friendly, casual manner. "Want to hang out with me and Trude?" Alvdis asked.
Emmet nodded and said a barely audible, "yes."
Why would he not say yes to that? Alvdis was his dream girl. She was the reason he had entered the club. He had obsessed about her for weeks in his room. He knew every inch of her body. He had seen closeups of big black cocks pumping both her pussy and anus. He knew every lille imperfection. The closeups of her breasts and nipples from Mordell and Caleb's breast torment. Many of the abuses of her boobs had been suggested and paid for by Emmet.
Emmet fantasized about keeping Alvdis in a dungeon, chained up. Maybe in a little cage where he could go down and do whatever things to her body that pleased him, while he watched her wail.
As Alvdis and Trude left with Emmet, he could see the despair on the faces of the girls left behind. Some of them started sobbing. Emmet had a hard time believing they would be that emotionally put out by him going with some other girls.
"Are they acting? Emmet asked. Trude shrugged and said, "Nah, they just haven't had dick in a long time. They were desperate."
Emmet had trouble understanding how anyone could be on the verge of crying over not getting sex. He had certainly obsessed a lot about it but not cried. And how could girls like that not get all the sex they wanted?
It was almost as if Vigdis had read his thoughts. "Fosse-Enger syndrome," she said dryly.
"Fosse what?" Emmet responded not understanding what she was talking about. She was leading him towards a spiraling staircase.
Emmet is walking of green glass stairs inside the Soria Moria house of pleasures to get to Alvdis Collett's room
"Fosse-Enger syndrome. A chronic condition we all suffer from. All of us Norwegian girls I mean," Alvdis said and stopped by the staircase. "This leads up to my room. We can chill there a bit. Fetch you are drink. Looks like you need it Emmet," She smiled.
"She is nice," Emmet thought. She not only looked great, but she also smelled nice and acted friendly. He could not remember any girl being nice to him. It made him feel a slight discomfort about how he had paid Carter Evans to have her raped and humiliated. But Emmet pushed the thought aside. His social media idol Andy Hayter had told him you cannot have empathy towards women. They don't care about you. Girls manipulate men with their emotions. It is all an act. It isn't real. It is just to control men. Andy Hayter knew what he was talking about because he had fucked a lot of girls, was rich, successful and drove luxury cars.
The key, Hayter had said, was to treat girls like shit and not care about them. As soon as you cared they would sense your weakness and exploit you. Emmet would stay strong. But Hayter hadn't said how hard that would be. Alvdis just seemed very likable.
Povel Vieregg
"It is from the cocktail of VIR-X9 and DOLL-3 retrovirus the patriarchs infected us with, in order to alter our genes to fulfill their sick fantasy of an Aryan master race," Alvdis continued as they walked up the spiral staircase. It was almost like some sort of art with steps that looked like some sort of colored Venetian glass.
Povel Vieregg
"Makes you strong," Trude said dryly while flexing the muscles on her forearms. Her muscular body intimidated Emmet. He knew she could break his thin limbs like twigs.
"But also makes you a sex addict. But it is more than just liking sex. It is like a physical need. Those girls Emmet were acting stupid because they haven't fucked in a long time. It makes us incapable of thinking straight," Alvdis said as they reached the third floor, "Mine and Trude's room is over here."
Emmet was puzzled by why she was telling him all of this. Was it smart for a prostitute to tell the customer she is addicted to sex? But it was as if she had read his mind when she laughed, "You might wonder why I am telling you this."
Emmet nodded carefully.
