City of Whores – Part One

ROZALIA

Czernowitz – Austria-Hungary 1910

Oberkriminalrat Rudolf Krenek hated Czernowitz even more than he hated whores,the ones he controlled as much as the ones who worked for other pimps, the ones he hararassed and arrested when bribes were not paid on time. There were plenty of whores in the city, plenty of girls who were lured away by promises of glamorous work and easy money in Ottoman Istanbul which, geographically, wasn’t so far away, not too much far from Vienna in fact. And that was the problem. Czernowitz was a charming city in so many ways, but it was too far from the capital of the Monarchy. He had been transferred there for disciplinary reasons in 1908. If it was intended as a punishment he certainly felt it as such. Free sex and the extra money he made from controlling prostitutes were the only things that made his life here tolerable.     

Most of his girls worked the alleys leading down from the Austriaplatz. It was here that he swt to work his newest recruit, a young Jewish widow called Rozalia Kluger.  Rozalia’s jeweller husband had died in unexplained circumstances, two years earlier, on the eve of the World Yiddish Congress.  Some items were, apparently, missing from the shop but there were many other leads, as Kluger had been an active Zionist, an advocate of Yiddish, a man who had enemies in the world of Jewish politics, So many leads, bit so little police interest. Krenek didn’t care but was quick to take the pretty Rozalia under his wing. This was a means of recruitment he used often.    

Actually, as Rozalia wept before him in her parlour, he felt sorry for her.  She was 22, had a full face, curly black hair that she kept mostly under a wide brimmed hat. Krenek felt his cock hardening as he looked at her, told her that he would need to  interview her formally at the police station. He helped her into her coat, and when she pulled on her black leather gloves, he gasped as he felt a spontaneous ejaculation flood his trousers with sticky warmth. A damp patch formed on his brown trousers, the smell was unmistakable. Rozalia appeared not to notice.  

The cab drew up outside the police station and Krenek got out to help Rozalia descend. He led her inside and offered her a seat in his dark, smoky office.

“Frau Kluger” he began, “May I”

He took her gloved hand, ad kissed it, aroused again at the smell of the leather,

“But Herr Kriminalrat……….”

“Frau Kluger, I will look after you, I can find you work. I can give you all the protection you need.”

He drew a cock anf balls on a piece of paper and held it up. .

“It’s easy work. Have you had one of these in your mouth before?”

Rozalia said nothing.

“Easy money. And you don’t have too many options do you? I will look after you.”

“What’s in it for you?”

Krenek was startled by the directness of her question.

“I take half and protect you, keep the Sitte off your back.”

“And you will look after me, And I can stop whenever I want….”

Krenek nodded.

Later that evening Krenek sat at home, working on the rota for the women he protected, and cross referencing it to his police duty roster, making sure he would be there to keep any eye on his girls. Then he lay on the hard narrow bad and wanked to Rozalia. She was a natural, they would make good money together…they… he imagined the leather gloves spanking his bottom, pressed against his mouth as Rozalia abused him, he began to fantasise about being circumcised by her, being Jewish for her, for her……..he arched his back and stiffened as he grew harder and came. He rolled over and ground furiously against the bedsheet. Before dropping off, exhausted and satisfied, into a deep sleep, he took the half of a pork chop that was left over from supper and threw it away.  

Rozalia began to work the streets of Czernowitz, She shared her takings with Krenek, who was always near when she was working, watching, waiting, noting the names of any prominent men of Czernowitz who paid for Rozalia’s favours, information he could use against them at some point in the future. And he always took her for dinner at a small kosher restaurant, a few yards from the cheap hotel where rooms were let by the hour, where he held information on the owner, Elias Goldblum, and could eat for free. He always plied Rozalia with vodka, especially on cold winter nights.

Some nights he would take Rozalia home. She would grab his cock in her gloved hands, bring him quickly to the edge, and finish him off with a delicate tongueing before swallowing the come that streamed into her mouth.

She would sometimes, thrust her hand down the front of her knickers, rub her clit coquettishly and ask

“Herr Kriminalrat, do you never want to come inside me?”

And Krenek would turn red, look away, and mumble something that Rozalia could not make out. Them, as ever, Rozalia would pull on the gloves, put Krenek over her knee and spank him until red marks adorned his buttocks and he whimpered.

He knelt before her naked, kissed her ankle boots and said

“May I, a miserable Gentile, worship you, fairest of the Chosen People.”

Then he began to cry. Rozalia quickly learned that this was all an act. Krenek was controlling even in his grovelling. And she could not forget the first time she had been out to work for him and showed him the money she had made.

He pushed her against a wall, grabbed her by the throat.

“You thieving  Jew!” he hissed and pushed his face against hers, so close that she could smell pickle gherkins on his breath. He had taken all the money she had in her purse and left her with nothing from an evening when she had service five men, and nothing to buy food or pay the rent. She realised afterwards that he never suspected her of theft at all. That didn’t matter. She was now forced to walk the streets for him.     

After the spanking ritual they would drink more vodka before Krenek turned her out onto the cold street. Seeing that se got home safely was not part of the protective urge he felt towards her.

But Rozalia Kluger lived up to her name. Emboldened by the liquor that burned her mouth but warmed her inside she stood out again, saw more clients as Krenek slept. She hid the money away in a box she kept beneath her bed.

Tonight. Krenek needs a blow job, he needs to feel Rozalia’s gloved hands round his cock, He looks out for her but she isn’t there.

“Where’s the Jewish girl?” he asks an older woman, a veteran of the trade here.

“Herr Kriminalrat, I haven’t seen her for 2 days.”

Krenek storms off and goes to Rozalia’s small, dingy flat. He lets himself in using his copy key.  The mattress on the iron bedstead has been stripped. The bedside candle is cold, a ribbed and nobbly lump of wax poured out over the wooden surface of the bedside cabinet. The wardrobe is empty.

Krenek kicks the door shut in cold fury. Rozalia has escaped.

He will never see Rozalia  again. She has already crossed the border into Germany and is on a train to Hamburg, taking her whole life in a battered suitcase. In  a few weeks she will arrive in New York and disappear into the slums of Brooklyn to start a new life. She has her nicest underwear. She has the black leather gloves. She is 22 and beautiful. She is bright and resourceful. She will use the opportunities that come her way.

To be continued.

A post for Wicked Wednesday. Click here for more wickedness

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6 thoughts on “City of Whores – Part One

  1. Wow Eve – bloody brilliant
    “he hissed and pushed his face against hers, so close that she could smell pickle gherkins on his breath”
    fabulous
    May x

  2. This was excellent Eve, brought to life by so many well observed, small details. Also the contradicitions in Krenek’s quirky behaviour – so illogical – making them very believable. I shall be very interested to read what Rosalia does next, I’m delighted she got the upper hand.

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