Chapter 2:

Penny's POV

“Penny, can you handle the client in the third cubicle? I need some desperate rest after my last session”. Amanda, a blonde girl dressed in a leathered gold bikini calls out as she enters the make-up area in the back. 

She slumps on the seat next to me, tipping her head back and massaging the small of her back with her long fingers. The freckles on her face glisten with small sweat dews as she creates an O-shape with her lips puffing some air out. 

I look at the clock on the wall; it’s almost the end of my shift but who doesn't like some extra cash in their pockets. So I remove the pumps, lining the bruise on my leg with a second skin patch, before trudging towards the door.

“Penny, you just had a rough session with Alpha Valen”, Martha voices out, her eyebrows crossed in the middle of her face, and I just look at her. 

I don't understand what all the fuss is about. As strippers, we get clients for private dances, and sometimes the Alphas and the Betas that enter have sex with us, which isn't against the rules. Sure it leaves you with heavy breaths or some blood down there, but it is not something bothersome. Your breath returns to even the moment you sit, and your blood stops after some time. 

And well the same happened to me thirty minutes ago when I left after having sex with Alpha Valen. My blood stopped the moment I washed the wound with some water, and even though there is some throbbing down there it is nothing I couldn't handle. 

I ignore Martha’s comment, making my way out to enter the client cubicles. Entering the third cubicle, I see an old man sitting in the middle of the room. 

People that work with me say that they can smell whether their client is an Alpha or a Beta, but when I whiff the air flaring my nostrils, all I smell is the alcohol in the club. 

I shut the door behind me, walk to the center of the cubicle, and on queue, the music starts. The music is ninety-minute, cue music and I start swaying my hips left and right to the beats that flow in the room. Walking closer to the man tucked in the seat, I trail my fingers on his shoulders, sliding them up and down his arms, from behind when his palm wraps along my wrist. 

Pulling me up on his lap his lips bite mine, and his fingers dip between us as he pulls the sheer fabric away from my pussy before shoving his dick in me. I hold onto his shoulder, bouncing and doing the tricks that could please him. His fingers wrap along my waist, and when he takes charge I look at the back counting the two hundred and ten squares engraved on the wall.

It is the only thing that keeps me from getting bored when a dick continuously pumps in me. I never understood what the fascination with sex was all about. All I can know is cold hands grope your body, and yours move in their rhythm. 

The old man holds onto my waist, his nails digging into my skin. He shouts, making different noises and I do the same as instructed to make him feel good. I don't understand what that means, but the woman said it is something that will give me money to pay rent, buy food, and clothes for the job. 

It's not like I need a lot of money, but it's just I have been doing this for as long as I remember and Alpha Damon always taught me to always put work first.  

The old man below me shouts loudly and I feel a movement of his dick down in me. Maybe it's over. He finished a lot faster than anyone that has come here, and also I did not bleed. 

Is he not satisfied? 

I look at the old man. His chest rises up and down as he stretches his lips wide showing his teeth. 

“Are you not satisfied?”, I ask looking at the man below me. 

“No baby girl, I am satisfied. What made you think I am not”. The old man places his hand on my cheeks. 

“You finished fast and I did not bleed or felt breathless”, I say when he pushes me down on the floor. 

He walks over to me, placing his shoes on my face. 

“What do you want to say, baby girl, that I am not a man or am I not big for you? Huh…”. 

He twists his leg, the sole under his feet digging into my skin, and blood starts to flow from the region. 

“I…”

He yanks me up the floor by the hair. 

“Should I tell your Alpha about the disrespect”, he shouts near my face. “Oh no, I won't. You are just a whore who takes multiple dicks at a time so you won't be satisfied with my single big dick. Why should I call the Alpha and demean myself, when you are the fucking whore”

The old man lifts his shoes, the blood now entering my mouth. I wipe my lips with the back of my hand to get rid of the tangy taste that spreads on my tongue.

“My money”, I say and the old man turns towards me with wide red eyes. His teeth rub against each other inside his mouth. Pulling out a couple of bills from his pocket he throws them up in the air. 

“Here whore. Maybe you could pay some beast to satisfy your fucked up pussy”, he shouts and walks out with loud footsteps. 

I get up from the floor, adjusting the fabric along my pussy, before picking up the bills littered on the floor. 

One, two, three…. Twenty nine, Thirty.

That makes it Thirty thousand dollars. 

Wiping the blood that trails down my face, I get out of the cubicle walking to the make-up room. 

“Oh my god, Penny what happened to your face.”, Sarah chirps holding my upper arm. 

 I look at myself through the mirror. Small freckles of blood litter my upper cheek and I brush them with my fingers. 

“Nothing the old man punished me.”

“Punished you? For what?”, Sarah asks and I look into her wide eyes. They are not the ones like that of the old man. I mean they are wide, but something is different between their eyes. Maybe it was because he was a man and she was a woman. 

“Maybe I did something wrong?” I say, still looking into the different types of wide eyes before me. 

“Oh come on Sarah, it's the smallest bruise that Penny has. Honestly, doesn't matter, especially for a lifeless doll, right Penny?”

Amanda says her eyebrows raised on her forehead, her lips pressed together. And I nod. 

“Sarah darling, you are new here. You will slowly know about this lifeless doll.”, Amanda says, swinging her bag over the middle of her chest and walking out of the room. 

I see Sarah look at me, her eyebrows the same - raised on her forehead. I walk towards my duffle bag picking some clothes to change when fingers curl over my upper arm. 

I look over my shoulders at Sarah who is holding me. 

“Do you want something?”

Her mouth opens, and she tilts her head to the side to look at me. 

“Why did you let him hurt you if it wasn't your mistake?”

“Hurt, what does that mean?”, I voice not understanding her words, and she points towards the bruise. 

“Oh, the old man punished me.”

“For what?” she shouts.

“Maybe I did something wrong?”, I say and she shakes her head from side to side. 

“Oh my god, are you seriously a lifeless doll that witches created as a part of their experiment?”, she says, placing her hand over her mouth. Jumping a step away from me she pokes my skin with her nail.

“No, I have a life so I am not lifeless. Amanda just likes to call me a lifeless doll because she named me lifeless doll. After the small doll in her bag. Just like the women in the brothel named me Penny after they found a penny in my pocket.”

“So you are not related to witches?”, she says. 

“No”

“Wait! You were born in a brothel?”, Sarah collects her bag from the other corner of the room pulling a hoodie over her blood-red sheer bodysuit.

“No, I was left in the brothel by my parents and the women found me on the door. They told me I had one penny in my pocket, so they named me Penny”.

“Oh, I am sorry!”, she holds my palms in her hand looking at me through small eyes. 

“You did not make any mistake”, I say at her sorry and her eyebrows meet in the center. 

“No, I said sorry because I feel bad for you.”, she said and I enquire about the words that people say to me all the time. 

“Why do people feel bad for me? Am I going stale anywhere?”. Her laugh echoes in the room as she slaps my back until she falls silent. 

“That wasn’t a joke? Was it?”

“I mean don't we call bread bad when it goes stale, so is my body going stale.”

“Oh no, that’s not what feeling bad means.”, Sarah shakes her hand before my eyes. 

“It’s a feeling, you know when you feel happy, sad, angry. It is the same thing, you just feel bad.”, she tries to word things I don't know, but the word that catches my ear is the new word, “Feelings.”

“What are feelings?”