Disclaimer: Do not own Marvel or The 100
Business as usual
Clarke Griffin tried not to think too hard about how this had come to be. She had accepted her business and even enjoyed it throughout the years. Still, here she was, her arms tied to the headboard, naked, on her stomach, her legs tied apart, two plugs in her, one lubed up and stuck in her ass, the other lubed up and stuck in her cunt, both plugs vibrating fast.
Clarke gasped against the mattress, shaking weakly, sweaty.
She felt mouths kissing her back. She wasn't entirely sure how this relationship had formed, when she had met these people surrounding her through her work, but it was what it was.
She had heard of sex workers sometimes marrying their customers, rare as it was.
Usually when someone was looking for someone to marry? Their first go to, would needless to say, not be a sex worker.
But that was how this relationship had formed.
Above her, were her thirty customers-and lovers.
The arrangement between them was simple; Clarke was not to have any other customers, except them. Or they would provide their own customers-people they trusted with her.
And in return? They would give her enough money that she would be able to retire by the time she was thirty.
And she'd live like a queen for the rest of her life.
So far? That seemed to work out. Clarke had a fortune already in her bank account because of these people.
They just asked that she be theirs only.
And she had kept to that agreement.
So far, it benefitted her pretty damn well.
The thirty of them, and their employees, who they had said they selected as good clients-who also paid just as well, as these thirty, kept her wallet fat, and kept her more pleased than any other customer had.
Yes, as a sex worker, it was literally her job to please the client, not the other way around, however, while she was doing her job? These thirty customers and their companions seemed all hellbent on being responsible for giving her a great deal of orgasms.
Clarke had faked enjoying the sex with many of her clients previously.
The whole point of a sex worker was to make a client's fantasy seem like reality.
But here? She didn't need to pretend, apparently.
Almost as soon as she had entered into this relationship? These people, her supposed clients, had focused on every moment of their time with her, pleasing her.
Their tongues and fingers went into her cunt, into her asshole, they'd lube up anything that was particularly large that they inserted into her, whether it be their fists, a flesh and blood cock or a fake cock.
Their interest seemed to be only pleasuring her.
Clarke screamed as she went limp, overstimulated, and exhausted, collapsing against the bed.
She could have used the safeword that these people had given her, and she knew them well enough to know that they would have stopped as soon as she used that safeword. But she hadn't used it. No need for it. This was her job, after all.
Almost immediately, she felt the toys being extracted from her body.
Her legs and arms were all untied, and she heard movement behind her.
She heard Wanda's voice speak softly, "You did wonderfully, my love."
Clarke gave a small, short laugh.
That was another thing-the praising.
They focused only on her pleasure and happiness. They praised her.
Was she positive that they were the ones that hadn't been sex workers for years?
Clarke had been in that business for quite a while, yet these people with her that were her only clients and gave her all the money in the world, to allow them to praise her endlessly and put their mouths on her clit and tongues in her asshole, and stimulate every inch of her, pulled off things that she had never even dreamed of.
"We'll get you some water and food, okay, baby?" Pietro, Wanda's twin brother said, voice holding that same Russian accent that Wanda's voice did.
She heard several footsteps move from the bed and move to the kitchen, getting water and the food that Pietro had promised her.
After a few minutes, the items were brought to the bed and Clarke was gently sat up, a glass of water being pressed to her lips and she was coaxed to drink it.
There was a microwaved pizza placed onto the table next to the bed, ready for her, as well.
The people around her had insisted before that they could do much better than "some microwaved pizza," that was how Pepper had put it, as if sounding offended that Clarke should eat something like that.
But Clarke had assured them it was fine.
After a few moments, Clarke scooted to the edge of the bed, sitting on the edge and beginning to pick up one slice of the pizza.
She felt eyes on her as she felt one of the sheets being folded around her body, covering her nudity, though that seemed rather pointless by now.
But she knew they were doing it for her benefit, not theirs.
They knew that she felt self-conscious sometimes, even if she had tried to make herself less and less self-conscious over the years as a sex worker.
"Do you like it?" She heard Yelena ask, sounding hopeful.
Clarke smiled, glancing at where Yelena stood and nodded.
By this point, Clarke had learned that she could drop her sex worker persona.
These people didn't care about that. They didn't need her praises. They were the ones that wanted to praise her, to lather her with attention and affection.
Clarke said, shrugging her shoulders under the soft, light red sheet, "So, I imagine you want to stay over?"
That was their usual method. They would praise her endlessly, fuck her brains out, pleasure her in ways she hadn't even begun to contemplate, feed her, pay her, and sleep over with her, holding her.
They got off several times, sure. But the most attention they paid, was to her own pleasure.
Tonight was no different.
Clint had gone to town on her asshole. Frank had thrust up into her cunt over and over again, after he had eaten her out five times. Natasha, Elektra, Wanda, Brunnhilde, Carol, Maria, Yelena, Hela, Sylvie, Melina, Laura, Peggy, Christine and Simone had all fucked her hard with their straps that they'd kept well concealed beneath their pants and skirts. Jessica had ground her cunt against Clarke's until they came together, then Jessica had crawled down and had eaten Clarke out over and over again. Pietro had fucked her hard doggy style. Pepper and Tony had fucked her together, Pepper in her cunt and Tony in her ass. Luke had had her ride his cock. Thor, Loki, Eddie, Bruce, Sam and Danny each took their turns with her.
And on and on it had gone.
But their main focus? Was how many times they could get her off.
And Clarke noted how many of the men used condoms. Not many men that she knew, bothered to wear condoms.
She took birth control regularly, but she appreciated the condoms.
Besides, birth control didn't protect a person from sexually transmitted infections.
Many of the men and women that she was in a relationship, brought actual bills of health to her, showing that they had no sexually transmitted infections. But the men still insisted on using condoms.
It was like the lube thing, they seemed to care only about her safety and comfort.
Clarke didn't understand these people. These bizarre puzzles of individuals.
What did they get out of this, besides their own pleasure and perhaps a controlling power game?
Then again, maybe that was all this was.
Maybe they got off on them being Clarke's only clients. Perhaps they felt like they "owned her" in a way.
Maybe that was what did it for them.
It wouldn't surprise her, actually. You'd meet all types people like that in this sort of business.
A lot of people got off on some power trip in some way or other.
There was just a question as to how they got off on that power trip.
For many it was usually the same thing. Wanting to be on top, wanting to be called "master" or something like that. Sometimes wanting to cause pain.
But then you'd get people like this. People that essentially "bought you."
Clarke assumed now that that was what was going on.
"If you'd like us to sleep over, then sure," Steve said, smiling at her as he began to pull on some boxers.
Boxers, Clarke noticed, that he didn't have before.
She knew that these people had prepared for potentially sleeping over. They had brought extra bags, in case she asked them to sleep over.
"I'm alright with that, if you are," Clarke confessed.
They were the customers, after all.
"Okay, sweetie," Pepper said, smiling as Clarke began finishing up the second slice of pizza.
Later on that night, Clarke's many clients slept around the room. Clarke, since becoming a sex worker, had obtained quite the bank account. And an even bigger one since these people had become her only clients.
Now, she'd been able to afford a much larger apartment.
There were mats and couches laid out for Clarke's…guests to sleep on.
None of them asked to sleep in Clarke's bed. They only said they would if Clarke wanted them to.
Clarke had seen the hopeful look in many of their eyes. They were hoping she'd let some of them in bed with her and hold her.
Clarke had a few times, during when they would sleep over with her, contemplated not letting any of them in her bed when she was sleeping. But she had assumed it would be good to remain on their good side.
So, for tonight, she selected Bruce, Hela and Natasha.
Bruce, Hela and Natasha crawled into bed with her after she turned out the lights and curled around her in a way that Clarke suspected was possessive and Clarke rested her head against Hela's breasts as she closed her eyes, feeling Bruce and Natasha against her back as she began to sleep, not wanting to admit that she felt comforted by them holding her.
As Clarke's small snores filled the room, several of the people that had made sure they were Clarke's only clients that were still awake, smirked.
Clarke didn't understand this yet, most likely, but they had every good intention with her.
It was why they had paid her enough money to give her an incentive to only want all of them as their clients-because no one else could look after her but them.
No one else could give her what she wanted, except them.
They had first met her a few years ago and had gotten to know her and had fallen in love with her completely.
And they knew that they had to keep her safe. How could a bunch of ungrateful, dirty clients that were looking for a quick fuck, possibly give her the pleasure or happiness that she needed?
They were protecting her.
They were loving her.
They would give her everything, and maybe one day, she might just realize that they loved her and wanted to do nothing but take care of her.