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“I’m not a fucking tart. I’ve got my fucking principles. And my darling Buttercup’s not a fucking pro neither.” Buttercup looked up solemnly. “Zeta’s right. It’s an option. I’d not heard of ‘prostitution’ before I came here, but it sort of makes sense. I have sex with men I don’t like every day anyway. Is it better being a prostitute?” “It might be for you,” smiled Zeta. “Notall of us get the same attention as you do. For most girls in the factories, we might have a fuck every now and then,. The men ignored her cries, raised the mallets and let them fall again, driving the nails deep into the wood beneath her pinioned arms. Lisa stared wildly to both sides, seeing the surreal sight of her arms nailed to the crossbar. The pain was excruciating and she tried to lift her legs in a kind of fetal position but the men in the leather pants were forcing them down pressing them against the wood. There was a small triangular wedge at the base of cross and they forced Lisa’s legs to. He started to shake, and someone asked him if he was okay. He couldn't speak. He could nod and shake his head no. The stranger stopped and took him by the arm for a minute, and asked if he could help. Catching his breath and his bearings, he said no, but thank you. His voice was different, he was speaking but the words were coming from a different body, from a different human machine, and they sounded as though they came from a stranger spoken in a city accent that he heard so many times. She said she was sweating and it was irritating her, so Bill told her to take if off. It was dark, no one around or could see and I wouldn’t mind, to which I agreed. Three seconds later, her bra fell off and there she sat in the dark with her lovely breasts loose and free. She noticed I was looking and asked if I liked what I saw and I told her yes, they were very lovely and then I told her how I missed Ginger’s breasts waiting for me at home. Bill asked me what Ginger looked like, so I.
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