They're sitting still now. Whores should sit still. Whores wait for what's coming to them. He calls the shots. He takes his clothes off. T-shirt, jeans, underpants, shoes, socks. In that order. He undresses in front of them. If they don't look at him, he kicks them until they do. Whores should look. He stands naked in front of them. He's handsome. He knows that he's handsome. Trained body. Muscular legs. Firm buttocks. No belly. Handsome.

'What do you think?'

The dark slag is crying now.

'Horrid horrid cap-man.'

She's crying, she took her time, but she's just like all the whores.

'What do you think? Handsome or what?'

'Horrid horrid cap-man. I want to go home.'

His cock is hard. He calls the shots. He comes up close, pushes his penis at their faces.

'Looks good, eh?'

He shouldn't have wanked. He did it twice this morning. He can only manage two more times, probably. He does it in front of them, his breathing quickens. He kicks the fat blonde when she looks away for a moment, empties himself in their faces, on their hair, it gets messy when they shake their heads.

They're crying. Whores always cry, all the fucking time.

He undresses them. Their tops have to be cut first, now that their hands are tied to the hot pipe. They're younger than he'd thought, no sign of tits.

He pulls everything off except their shoes. Not the shoes. Not yet. The fat blonde slag has got pink shoes, shiny, like patent leather. The brunette is wearing white trainers, like for playing tennis in.

He bends over the fat blonde whore. He kisses her pink shoes on top, near the toes. He licks both of them, starting at the toe, all along the shoe, the heel too. He takes them off. Her little whore's feet are gorgeous. He lifts one of her feet, she almost tips over backwards. He licks her ankle, her toes, sucks a little on each one. He glances up at her face, she's crying quietly.