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Songs...
... I remember a time when my world was filled with music - but that was long ago, in another place, another life.
What lasts in this life? What is precious? There was a time when I believed I knew the answers, but I was proved wrong. And now I am here, in this vast, impersonal city, surviving. Just surviving...
New Year 2803
City
The city is very old. I remember - hearing? reading? - that it's been here for over a thousand years, and its roots go very deep. Down here, in the manmade canyons of the undercity where I and those like me end up, it's always dark, even though the lights never go out. Looking upwards to the vast buildings that hide the sky, I sometimes think that wealth, status, can be measured by how close to the sunlight you live. There's no sun down here.
How long ago was it I came to Oedo? I forget. Ten years at least. Sometimes it feels like forever; I can barely remember what life was like before, just distant memories - except for the music. There was always music. And laughter. I must have had parents, though I can't remember them. Brothers, sisters? Maybe. I wouldn't recognise them if I saw them. It's safer not to have a family, here, safer to be alone. Less people to be hurt.
...I have to work now...
Back earlier than usual. I'm hurting, my wrists red and raw, my body a collection of aches. I'm bleeding a little - I'll have to try to take it easy tomorrow. If I get the choice.
I need to sleep, but one of the new arrivals has been watching me, his eyes bright, and unlike some of the others I have no protector, no partner. Rest probably won't be an option.
At least I have plenty of painkillers.
Sleep
... becomes a luxury when you live from hour to hour, from client to client. As I'd expected, I was not allowed to sleep. Afterwards I managed to doze for a while, unable to breathe properly under the weight of his heavy body half-covering mine. He smelt of sweat and dead fish, a nauseating scent. It took me longer than normal to wash it from me, and afterwards he grinned and stroked my face. Telling me I was pretty and he wanted to look after me.
So naïve. He'll be lucky to last a week.
The city destroys all forms of innocence, grinds it to powder, burns it as incense to the gods in the tall towers. Resignation is the least offensive substitute.
I wish I could see the sunrise...
A temporary reprieve as my latest client wishes me to stay with him for the night. The apartment is warm, at least, and he feeds me before he fucks me. To my surprise he wants me to return the 'favour', taking him dry. This one has masochistic tendencies, pays extra to be bitten until he bleeds.
But he holds me almost tenderly afterwards, brushing kisses over my forehead, and I can ignore the aching of my lower body, at least until later.
Another surprise - the masochist wants to make a regular appointment. Once every fourteen days, at his little apartment, and he will pay extra if I agree to stay overnight. I hesitated - I could earn a great deal in the ten hours I would need to spend with him, and a salaryman's wages aren't that extravagant - but... He's kind, and while kindness means nothing in this city, I've known little of it in my life. I agreed, but without committing myself to a long term arrangement. He smiled, cupped my face in his hands and kissed me, gently, then gave me an extra ¥5000, to buy myself "something special to wear" for next time.
Not that ¥5000 will go very far in this city...
Hoshi - my mentor and the closest thing I have to a friend here - smirked unpleasantly when I stupidly let slip the client's proposal, and told me not to get ideas above my station, before slapping my face. (Not quite hard enough to bruise, fortunately, although I'm sure he meant to.) Of course, for a street-whore to take on regular clients is a step towards a higher class in the unspoken hierarchy that exists here - and a cause for resentment amongst the others.
I should have kept my mouth shut. I'll suffer for my 'presumption', later...
Memo...
... to myself be more circumspect in what I say...
There are nineteen of us living here. Of that nineteen, eight are 'partnered' together and refused to participate in Hoshi's 'retribution', and two were out, when I returned.
It will be several days before I can work. I can hardly move, am bleeding heavily, and it would be wise for me not to eat anything for a day or two, to allow myself time to heal. Not that I think I could eat anything in any case, my gut hurts when I move. I suppose I should be grateful they only used their hands and knees to hold me down, and have not marked me in any permanent way - even the bruises are light, will fade in a couple of days.
It has been a long time since I wanted to cry. I daren't. It's a sign of weakness, and weakness here leads to death. Or worse.
Dead Fish - he told me his name but I will not dignify him by using it - smiling shamefacedly, brought hot tea to me this morning where I lay on my front on the thin futon. His attempt to apologise for participating in my 'punishment', I assume. I refused it - whereupon he heaved himself onto my back and shoved into me, muttering that Hoshi was right, I was a stuck-up little bitch who needed to be taught a lesson... The pain made me feel sick, forcing me to bite my pillow to stay silent, and when he'd finished I was shaking, too weak to do more than lie still until the worst had passed.
Hoshi watched, smiling smugly. I've made an enemy there. I had no idea he was so jealous. I think I will have to leave this place, find another, if I am to survive. There are plenty of such 'communes' throughout Oedo, and traffic between them is not uncommon.
I am so tired...
Left
They left me alone, and I was able to sleep for a little while. They'd all gone by the time I woke and struggled to dress, pushing what little I possess into a carryall.
It was easier to leave when they were gone, saved questions, sneers, mocking comments - possibly even more pain.
It hurts to walk, but I was lucky: a courier stopped and offered me a lift in return for the use of my mouth for a while, switching the big delivery vehicle to autocruise while I crouched over him, head buried in his groin... He was clean, at least, and a comfortable size, and he slid a hand into my leggings, fondling my penis as I sucked him. When he finally came, it was copiously, his hand fisted painfully in my hair as he shoved me against his groin so hard I couldn't breathe.
Afterwards he cupped my face in one hand, grinning, and told me my mouth was worth a fortune. But he went out of his way to take me across the city, letting me out in a neighbourhood I didn't know. As I opened the cabin door he grabbed my arm, asked if he might 'look me up again'...
Now I am here, in a small 'commune - seven people - accepted if not yet welcomed. It's warm, and reasonably comfortable, and we all have an individual alcove in which to sleep.
Sleep is all I want to do. I'm bleeding again, and the day's efforts have exhausted me. Tomorrow I will ask the 'commune's nominal leader about medical facilities in this area. I need to work, as soon as possible.
Better
A good - undisturbed - sleep, the rare treat of hot sencha on waking, courtesy of one of the 'commune members (a pretty little boy with spiky green hair), an exquisitely painful, expensive but very successful visit to the local medic, and I feel a great deal better...
I walked a roundabout way back from the clinic in order to get an idea of the locality. It's rather more exclusive than anywhere I've worked before, open, wider streets, high security apartments, a couple of small but beautifully maintained parks, upper class establishments, even an art gallery, something I'd only ever read about before. I'm puzzled as to why the courier brought me here, but not ungrateful. I think, from the interested looks I attracted, business will be reasonable.
I'll find out, later.
It seems this place used to be called Musashino-shi, and the natives still refer to it as Kichijoji. I like it - it's eccentric with dignity and highly original. And my first impressions were right: business is good, and conducted in a leisurely fashion - no quick fuck in an alleyway here. Of course, I am a newcomer and the novelty may wear off soon, but according to Toyo (the green haired boy) residents have a keen appreciation of beauty and form attachments easily and quickly. And in fact my third and last client requested a regular appointment, once a week.
I agreed. He is attractive, interesting and pays extremely well, and the days he wants won't clash with my prior arrangment with the masochist.
Time to bathe and rest. I may have healed, but I still ache, and my second client was - vigorous...
FastFame
It seems my name is becoming known already...
Bemused...
… that was probably the most intriguing - and strange - appointment I have ever had…
I had never heard of Edouard Damune before last night, but on my return I looked him up… I believe I should be immensely flattered.
No, I'll rephrase that. I am immensely flattered. His work is astounding. So varied. Sometimes beautiful, sometimes stomach-turningly ugly, controversial, lyrical, soaring, terrifying. But always unique - always him.
He is unique, also, in and of himself. Driven, obsessive, without pretension, wholly focussed on creation - and very beautiful. He shines from within.
I would like to work with him again. See him again.
I would like to see Yanagawa-san again, too.
Annoyed
It would appear that anyone even remotely connected with Edouard Damune is fair game for harassment! I am his 'disposable art' for a few hours and suddenly all the day's clients turn out to be reporters wanting an interview or an 'insight' or something. The day has been a complete waste of time. Oh, I could have made more in the last twenty four hours than in several normal months if I'd given in to their pestering - some of the amounts these... people offered were staggering. As if I had anything to tell them!
Let me make my position clear. I don't like dishonesty - it'll get you nowhere. And I do not break client confidences. I never have and I never will. So you should not bother asking.
Luckily Edouard Damune's fee will be enough to live on until the fuss has died down...
Perhaps serving as Edouard Damune's 'art' has had one benefit after all: I now have more potential clients than I have time to service, all of them eager to pay more than I charge. It would be embarrassing were it not so useful - for the first time I can afford a little luxury.
Thank you, Josef.
Invitation
I had a 'phone message when I arrived back, from 'Josef', asking if I would accompany Edouard Damune to what he called a 'tedious social affair', some kind of reception hosted by his patron (a very wealthy businesswoman, I understand) as his paid escort, to 'alleviate the boredom' of the evening.
I have never done such a thing before - at least, not for anyone so important - but it might be interesting. As long as I won't be expected to say very much; I can't imagine being able to converse on the same level as those likely to attend...
The artist has also offered to buy me something to wear, if I don't have anything suitable - which is very generous, but raises a question: what sort of thing should I wear? Something decorative? Provocative? Plain and simple? Businesslike? (I hope not this last - I don't have anything that could be called businesslike and can't see myself getting much wear out of it if I did.) What am I to be to him? And will he want me for the whole night? I'd like that.
Well, I have a couple of days to decide. Perhaps I'll take Toyo shopping: he knows the area well and has very good taste in clothes!
Demure, Damune-san has said. He wishes me to look demure. And he will provide the outfit.
I will be most intrigued to see what he considers demure!
... I'm nervous. I shouldn't be nervous. But I am...
It was a wonderful, wonderful night...
..tired...
I have never been so busy. But it is time, I think, to allow myself a rest. Two days to sleep, relax, and recover from the last few days' activities.
Summer 2803
All was going smoothly, I was comfortable with my clientele, my routine, happy with my... occasional relationship with Edouard - and then I made the mistake of assuming that everything would continue in this way...
I remember the group who accosted me as I left Ichi's tower block. There were four of them, all bigger than me, all leering. I remember their hands. I remember the pain as they took me, one after the other, holding me face down stretched over a bench in a nearby park. I remember hands around my neck, cutting off my air, then loosening to let me gasp, then tightening again. I remember their voices, the crude, cruel things they said. And I remember the knife that slid into me as the last of them pulled out...
I came to in a hospital bed, hooked up to a variety of monitors, drifting in a haze of numbness. The medication, I suppose. The lights were dimmed. I didn't recognise the man who walked towards me. He was tall, with long legs and long hair, a straight fall of shining black. Craggy face, intense black eyes fixed on mine. He seated himself on the edge of my bed.
"How are you feeling?"
My throat was bruised and it hurt to talk. He touched a finger to my lips to stop me trying.
"It's OK. You can speak to me later, when you've recovered. I want to know who did this to you."
I nodded, feeling my eyelids drooping. I vaguely remember a nurse coming in, speaking to the tall man, but whatever she said was lost as I fell asleep.
The tall man was beside me when I woke: he smiled tightly and asked how I was feeling. My throat was less painful, though whether that meant I'd been here long enough for it to heal, or there had been some sort of medical intervention I was unable to say. I was able to tell him I felt better. Which was, mostly true, although my side stung and ached where I had been stabbed, and the pain from my lower body was enough to take my breath away: they must have caused some significant internal damage...
The tall man stroked my hair gently.
"Do you know who attacked you?"
I shook my head. He huffed to himself.
"If I were to show you some scans of likely suspects, do you think you'd recognise anyone?"
I told him I didn't think so. It had been dark, and they had attacked from behind. He sighed.
"Very well. But if you think of anything that might help us identify them, have the hospital call me."
He rose to his feet as I nodded, then stroked my hair again and left.
He visited me again the following day, just for a little while, sitting on the bed, not saying much. He was - easy to be with. I asked him why he came, why he was so concerned, and he told me I reminded him of someone he once knew, someone he was very fond of. Someone with green eyes. A nurse arrived before I could ask him his name, smiling apologetically as she announced I needed to rest.
I will ask him who he is the next time he visits.
Damune-san was at my bedside when I woke the following day, his expression worried. He touched my face, and tried to insist I move into his building: he said there was an apartment for rent several floors down, that he would pay for for me, so that I would be safe.
It was tempting. I would like to be close to him. But I also need to have my independence. I have that now, and would not like things to change.
He smiled and kissed me, understanding what I meant even though I could not express myself adequately. He instructed the nurse that I was to have anything I wanted, and to bill him, then stroked my hair and said he'd be back in touch when I was recovered, to make arrrangements for his next artwork.
The tall man with the long hair is Hasegawa Juzo, and he is a member of the Oedo police force. He was there when I was discharged from the medical facility, his hand very lightly on my upper arm as he guided me to a 'car and ushered me inside. He paused for a moment before starting the vehicle, twisting in his seat to eye me sombrely.
"You sure you're ready to go home?"
I nodded. "I am sure. And I have clients to contact."
He frowned. "It's a dangerous job. I'd rather you did something else."
"I know nothing else."
"You can learn."
I sighed. "Hasegawa-san, what would I do? What would be open to me? I have no schooling, and there are few jobs available for one such as me."
That this was unwelcome was obvious from his expression, but he could not deny it. Oedo has too many people and not enough work to go around as it is. He lowered his gaze, scowling.
"OK. But I want you to report in every week."
I stared at him. "Why?"
"Just want to make sure you're safe."
"Why?"
"Because... you remind me of..."
"Someone you used to know, yes." I touched his cheek briefly. "Thank you for your concern. How might I make recompense for your kindness?"
He hesitated - but I had seen the glint in his eyes, the way he shifted slightly in his seat, and I smiled.
"Perhaps I can offer my services? To say thank you?"
He licked his lips, just a fleeting brush of his tongue, but the notion was obviously appealing.
"How old are you?"
Some of my colleagues believe in telling the client what they think he or she wishes to hear. I've always thought that a chancy business, trying to guess what they want: I am always honest. He blanched when I say fifteen.
"And how long have you been a…" he paused, finding it hard to say the word. I smile.
"Since I was eleven years old."
I think he would have been horrified, except that the fact allows him to view having sex with me as no corrupting influence.
Hasegawa-san wanted to keep things discreet. I understood that. I'd never asked what he did - I never wanted to know, it was safer that way - but people deferred to him, he had to be someone of some importance. I wasn't sure what he wanted of me that day, but it seemed safest to assume it included sex, so I wore a pair of what's commonly called 'fuck pants' (the sort that unfasten all the way from the waistband at the front to the waistband at the back and leave everything accessible) and a long, loose tunic. He seemed to approve, giving me a small smile and kissing my cheek before ushering me to a 'car.
I stood and stared. I'd never been topside, not like this. He stood very close behind me, not quite touching, murmuring that sunlight made me beautiful…
He sat with his back against a tree, and I sat on his lap, my legs parted, leaning back against his chest. His arms were around me, holding me tenderly - but I could feel the hardness against my backside, and lifted up slightly to open my pants fully, sliding a hand under me to free his penis then impaling myself slowly and carefully. He gasped, his arms tightening spasmodically around me, then pulled me back and kissed the side of my neck.
"Relax. Let me…"
And he played with me, fondling, stroking my balls, cupping them and squeezing gently then running a fingertip up the underside of my erection before pumping firmly, whispering,
"Come for me, little one."
And, biting my lip to stay silent I obliged. It was easy. He is very skilled.
He wiped my semen from his hands against the grass, then cuddled me, still rigid inside me and pressing tantalisingly against my prostate. After a few minutes his hands strayed downwards again, his lips and teeth possessive against my neck as his fingers teased me erect once more, sliding up and down, rubbing my balls… it took longer, but I came harder, gasping as he gripped me almost painfully. Shaking, I lay limply back against him. He nuzzled my hair.
"Am I hurting you?"
I shook my head. No, he wasn't hurting me, though I wondered at his ability to stay hard in me, not coming.
"Good." He left one hand idly stroking my limp penis, the other sliding up under my tunic to my nipples. He rubbed and pinched them gently for a minute, then murmured,
"You should have these enlarged, you know."
I blinked - the idea had never occurred to me, though it was, I'd heard, a simple enough procedure. I twisted to look over my shoulder, and he kissed the corner of my mouth.
"I'll pay."
Well, it wasn't a big thing to ask, and I was sure other clients would enjoy the effect. I nodded, and he chuckled.
"Good. I'll book an appointment for you." He held me around the waist, lifting me as he got his legs under himself then pushed me forwards onto my hands and knees, holding my hips as he began to move…
And I came once more, the feeling of that big penis rubbing inside me deliciously stimulating. Afterwards he turned me to face him, mouth on mine, kissing me deeply. He tasted of the cigarettes he smokes, but I've tasted worse things.
"Three days time. I'll take you to the clinic."
That soon? Ah well, be as well to get it done as soon as possible, I supposed…
My nipples feel very strange - aching, yes, and very tender, but also… wrong. As though they don't belong to me. Probably because they're a lot larger than they were, the skin stretched over the new flesh underneath. I'm assured that that will ease in a day or so, as the epidermis increases to allow for the extra tissue. The procedure only took half an hour, and was a matter of the medic inserting a fine needle to inject a precisely-calculated amount of tissue accelerant. Juzo held my hand, watching as it took effect, the tiny bits of flesh quadrupling in size (I think he would have liked a larger size again, but I have no wish to look that freakish). Afterwards he took me to the modest hotel room he reserves for us, eased off my tunic, and had me lie on the bed while he gently licked and sucked at them, careful not to hurt me but obviously aroused and fascinated. He stroked the left nipple and regarded me, eyes gleaming.
"When you've recovered, I'm going to have a ring put through this one. Gold, to match your skin."
I frowned. "I have no choice in the matter?"
"No. It will be a gift to you." He kissed my cheek. "… please…"
I sighed and nodded my acceptance. It was a little enough thing to ask. He smiled and eased off my leggings, lowering his face to kiss my penis then reaching for the oil on the bedside cabinet. Sleeking it over his erection he pushed my thighs widely apart and then slid into me, his gaze fixed on my face, smiling faintly as my eyes closed, the better to enjoy the feel of him moving within me.
Some clients are nothing more than bodies, a way to make a living. Some, however, are much much more. Juzo is special - skilled and powerful. It's almost luxurious allowing him to take control...
Afterwards he carried me to the shower, washed me gently, almost tenderly, sluicing our semen from my body. He had to return to work - as did I - so our session could not be of long duration, otherwise we'd have fucked again in the shower...
The ring is solid gold, of medium size, and hurts. I am assured the pain will not last very long - which is just as well, as everyone seems to want to play with it, tugging on it with their teeth, licking and sucking it. My regular clients are obviously pleased with the enlargement of my nipples as well.
I meet Juzo once a fortnight, and we spend an afternoon together. I let him do anything he wants to me: he is always careful not to cause pain. He lavishes attention on my body, licking and nipping and sucking every inch, strong hands holding me still as he teases me. He fucks me at least twice - I think he denies himself relief when we're apart, so he has more stamina and energy when we meet. I've grown to love the feel of him pulsing inside me, the smell and taste of his semen, even the taste of cigarettes in his mouth. I love the feel of his hair, as thick and silky as mine and almost as long.
I relish our time together.
Damune-san has asked me to visit again, for three days this time. He has a larger project in mind, he says: he won't tell me anything about it, but has assured me I will enjoy myself.
I look forward eagerly to finding out what it is...
"Where are you from?"
The words caught me a little by surprise - Juzo has never asked me anything so personal before. I frown.
"I cannot remember..."
I hoped it would be enough to silence him. It was a vain hope: I often forget he is a policeman. He rested his cheek in one hand and stroked my penis with the other, gazing at me keenly.
"You can remember if you want to. Or I can arrange for a session with an authorised psychiatrist."
That was the last thing I wanted. I closed my eyes, concentrating. There'd been a moment, with Damune-san, when I'd come so close to remembering... The smell and taste of buttered toast...
"The other side of the world. A small country - an island..."
I paused, biting my lip. The memory had brought pain with it, and a sense of deep loss. Juzo cupped my face in his hand.
"Europa? Somewhere in Europa? Albion?"
Albion... that sounded so familiar... I nodded hesitantly. Juzo smiled dourly.
"And how did you get here?"
"I came here with... with..." A fleeting image of a woman's face, indistinct as though seen through a haze. Huge green eyes, long brown hair, pale skin. A sharp searing sense of sudden terror. A grey time, frightened, fearful, alone...
Juzo was holding me, stroking my hair as I trembled against him.
"Please... no more..."
He kissed my forehead.
"OK. For now."
He fucked me into grateful forgetfulness.
(tbc)
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