27. A coup carried out in a brothel

Penelope Hill

It was almost 1 a.m., and the bar downstairs was full and noisy as always, with lots of people drinking and having fun making obscenities, men scraping all the money they had brought that night for drinks, and women. Meanwhile, on the top floor of the tavern, everyone's rooms were busy while the prostitutes worked hard. Many said that that work was not worthy and that it was shameful to do. Worthy or not, it was the way that these women had to guarantee bread for their children the next day. Just like Penelope Hill.

The twenty-seven-year-old brunette woman's buttocks began to shake as she was punished by the hungry man behind her. She dug her nails into the bed mattress, moaning loudly more from the act than the pleasure; in fact, she was already doing a good job. Time when the woman didn't really feel pleasure in the sexual act. But the man who was fucking her now looked like a hungry animal, moaning and panting as he inserted his dick into the girl's anal hole.

"Oh yes, more! Fuck more! Show me who's boss here! Awr..." she moaned loudly, spewing obscenities from her mouth to please her client. Penelope knew exactly how to please this specific client. "Put more in that pussycat, Ansel Hughes. Only you make me so delirious!"

Ansel Hughes was completely beside himself when he saw his peak so close because of Penelope. He grabbed the woman's ass and ordered her to penetrate the entire length of his body at once in that captivating hole. He exerted extraordinary concentration on her, squeezing the flesh of her buttocks with his hands and opening her thighs wider as he thrust faster and faster and more precisely.

"Damn you, Penelope. Why are you so fiery?" He screamed, completely crazy with lust, as he finished off the woman's ass. The woman, who was quite experienced in bed, knew how to roll perfectly to further enhance her partner's excitement. Penelope arched her back as she felt the strong jets of Ansel's ejaculate hit her anal canal as he reached his peak.

"So good, awn. Ansel, you're so powerful. I'm completely destroyed!" She acted like someone who had just had the best sexual experience of her life.

"You slut." Ansel cursed after finishing pouring himself inside her and then threw himself on the bed, which squeaked under the man's weight, and soon after he took out his cigarette, lit it, and started to smoke.

"You're getting worse and worse, Ansel. I think this drug you're using is decreasing your potency." Penelope spoke, picking up her own traditional cigarette made from simple herbs, and began to smoke as well. Ansel laughed sarcastically.

"Meanwhile, I think you're too old to feel any pleasure from sex. I mean, you're so wide down there that even your walls seem hollow." He laughed at her, who rolled her eyes. "You have a lot of clients, don't you? How many men have you seen in a weekend?"

"Hundreds, honey." She exaggerated her speech. "I serve as many as want to have me; I do all this to be able to feed your children." She threw those accusing words at him. Ansel already knew her well and knew that Penelope didn't mince words. The man ignored her as always, drawing smoke from his cigar into his mouth and then puffing it into the air.

There was a smell of opium, sex, and waste permeating everywhere in the room. There wasn't exactly a deep cleaning system in that cheap whorehouse; they barely changed the sheets when transitioning from one client to another, and considering that the sex that was had was also dirty (even including piss), you could understand why the small room was stinking as if a corpse had been left under the bed.

"By the way, Killian doesn't care about studying anymore. He's rebelling, and he starts to drink after he leaves the factory." She said that Ansel muttered a dissatisfied swear word.

"What a little son of a bitch; he thinks he's the boss of him now."

"You have to understand that working at the grease factory, in addition to being toxic for him, takes up a lot of his time, so it's almost impossible for him to concentrate on his studies after being exploited all day by the factory." Penelope had to defend her 12-year-old son somehow, but Butane grunted, not liking what he heard.

"He's weak; tell him if he doesn't want to help with the household expenses anymore, he'll have to leave the house. After all, that house is still mine. And tell Jeremiah to go to the Bella Vista coffee shop, which is near the port, on Monday morning; a friend of mine who works there needs a new chimney sweep. He ordered, and Penelope's eyes widened, visibly indignant.

"Jerry's only seven."

"There are children who are working much younger than him." He cut her off. "And if you complain, I'll put the youngest one to work too!" That was a threat. Penelope just gasped as her maternal instincts screamed inside her.

"Why don't you tell your children that yourself? When do you go home to see them, after all? Or have you already forgotten about me and your children? Are you falling in love with your pot of gold now? " Penelope looked at him with shame evident on her face.

"Don't talk nonsense."

"If what I'm saying is really nonsense, then why are you taking so long to get that spoiled girl's money, Ansel? It's been three months since you've been with her; she's even pregnant with you!"

"Stop it! The pregnancy was a mistake…" He seemed uncomfortable with the conversation. "It wasn't planned; I was just having fun with her. She has a very fertile cervix." He confessed, sighing.

"So what are you going to do with it? Don't you think you already have enough children? You damn son of a bitch!" She insulted him, and in one quick movement, Ansel grabbed her chin so hard that Penelope thought her jaw was going to be broken.

"See how you talk to me, you street whore. Disgusting!" He threw her across the bed in such anger and got up from the bed, Penelope holding her sore chin.

"I'm just worried about you," she stammered, almost crying in pain. "You could do very badly with all this." And it was true—this time, Ansel was messing with people who were too powerful. It was certain that spoiled Crystal would not let the scam that Ansel was preparing for her go unpunished. Penelope feared that Ansel would die in the middle of all this; after all, he was still the father of her children. His problem was that he was very greedy; he had been born and raised in inner London on the farms that produced food for the city. Penelope imagined that they could have followed a humble but good life there in the fields, but Ansel was too greedy and was never satisfied with anything; he wanted more women and more money and went to great lengths to achieve this. And now he said that he had found his pot of gold while he was deceiving that naive noblewoman. "One day, your greed could end you." She stammered, wiping her bleeding mouth.

"What spoils you, Penelope, is your poor vision. You're already used to little; that's why you suffer." He scolded her.

"I just want me and my children to survive." She was practically crying. Ansel approached her and hugged her, being strangely affectionate now. Her words were sweet as honey and hopeful as a beautiful summer day. Words that threatened to heal the broken woman's wounds.

"Just imagine, Penny. You, me, and our children. Living far away from this mess means living like nobles, which is what we deserve. I'll manage to do this for us. Trust me, you just have to wait a little longer, and then everything will be fine."