Maybe I'm just crazy...or the Devil got inside
One
Sometimes I wonder if all business men have the same fantasy of fucking a lady of the night...or if they are all so disappointed in their marriages that they seek comfort slamming their frustrations away between the thighs a nameless, faceless woman who is paid to take any and all perverse fantasy that they have, regardless of the severity or disgusting factor of their imaginations.
Maybe I’m just crazy instead...I’ve been technically a prostitute for the past five years...six if you count my first year with Devon...my pimp...which I guess you probably should since he started collecting money for my services within a few weeks. Which I guess makes me sound like a worthless slut...and I suppose that description would be right.
Funny the thoughts that go through my broken mind as my first ‘client’ of the night releases himself inside my womb making my skin crawl and my body shudder in disgust which made him smile, clearly thinking I was enjoying being tied up in such an uncomfortable position in another flea bitten hotel, the skin on my ass glowing a bright red, each welt throbbing from the lashes he dealt out with his belt. My poor, tortured breasts would probably never be the same, who the hell gets off sticking pins and needles into a woman’s breasts and nipples as she is gagged. Even a couple along my mound, pushing dangerously and painfully close to my vulnerable womanhood, leaving the man panting and me fighting back screams of pure agony.
I honestly wish that I could say that this is the worst that I’ve ever experienced, or that “don’t scream bitch, I want you to hurt after this. And I’m going to get my money’s worth of that prized cunt” was something I only have nightmares about. But this is my life...this is the life of many prostitutes. We live in a constant fear of finally having that one client that just goes too far and kills us. I’ve been lucky to have lasted so long considering the amount of drugs I used to force into my system everyday for years. I am not proud of much in my life, but I have been clean since I was nineteen and I am beyond proud of that. Now...to figure out how to get myself out of this life and living a life with no pain, no fear. Just love and healing....that is what I need.
I feel the man stand up, his now wilted manhood slipping from my most private of places with a slight popping noise before he draws back and lands a hard smack against my sensitive and exposed clit making me scream in shock and pain and causing him to laugh evilly. He tosses a couple hundred bucks onto the bed as he gets dressed in his Armani suit...yep, third lawyer of the day...prosecutor this time. Assholes.
He unties my legs and arms and leaves, leaving me to deal with the pins he pushed into my body. I wince and whimper in pain as each stick of metal slides from my flesh. I pull the final pin out and start wiping up the blood streaks that slid over my body from the tiny pinpricks and the painful welts on my poor, poor ass, when my phone rings out a shrill sound causing me to jump slightly in shock before sighing and picking it up.
“Hello sir, I was just about to leave to go back to Hollis,” I say softly into the phone without waiting for a reply from the deep breathing on the other end of the line.
“No need Scarlet,” Devon states, a throaty chuckle strumming through the line causing my skin to break out in gooseflesh, and my stomach to churn at the fake name he gave to me. “I need you for a bachelor party tonight, Craig got himself stretched too thin, you’re going to him now kitten. The money you earned from that man is your severance.”
“Oh god,” I whisper as I feel my body tremble slightly.
“Just do what he says and you’ll be fine kitten, good luck,” Devon says before hanging up. I feel like my world is spinning out of control as my heart pounds painfully in my throat, making it hard to breath as I fight off a full fledged panic attack. Yes, I hate my job, but Devon takes care of us, his girls. Keeps us clean, safe and protected, well as much as he can protect a bunch of prostitutes who flirt with death on an hourly basis...charging a couple hundred for a quick roll in the sheets. But Craig...Craig is like the Lex Luthor to his girls. He tortures them frequently, keeps them locked up when they’re not in use. But he normally as pretty classy customers...with very deep pockets. He holds two types of women...street walkers....and escorts. Considering I’m new to him and still pretty young, hell I’ve only legally been allowed to drink for three weeks, he’d try me in escort first it seemed...what with being in a bachelor party.
I take a deep breath to try and collect my thoughts as I collect my clothes and quickly have a shower and get dressed before leaving the skevey motel and heading to my tiny one bedroom, bottom floor apartment with windows that don’t lock and a door that doesn’t fully close, termite infested paper thing walls, and cracks in the ceiling. I own a ratty couch, a table and one fold up chair, a busted cd player and an air mattress.
Yeah, I said Devon treated us well...but he kept the money...we barely got anything ever. I get home as my cell phone rings and I quickly answer as I sit on the uncomfortable couch.
“Hello,” I say softly into the receiver.
“Scarlet. This is Craig,” I hear the raspy voice lull out.
“Hello sir, how may I help you this evening?” I say, praying this was just a social call.
“I am just making sure that Devon explained your new situation with you before the end of the day?”
“Yes sir, he told me I am now yours, I hope I do not, disappoint you,” I lie flawlessly through the phone as I fight back the hateful tears threatening to slide down my cheeks.
“I’m sure you will, I will need you tomorrow evening around eight for a bachelor party. We will discuss your future Monday morning at ten sharp, does that work for you?”
“Yes sir, just one question if I may?”
“Go ahead,” he says, clearly amused as I roll my eyes slightly.
“Sir, is there a fantasy these gentlemen have requested?”
“Oh, I almost forgot, thank you. They want school-girl, which I think you can pull off wonderfully. They just want the look and some dances according to the guy who ordered it, Ashley I believe. No school girl role playing...just the skirts and shirts and shoes kind of thing, can you do that?”
“Of course sir,” I reply, letting out a small yet shaky breath.
“Very well, I will be at your apartment by seven tomorrow evening to assess your outfit and take you to the clients. I suggest you soak and rest tonight Scarlet, you’ll be non-stop tomorrow.”
“Yes sir, sleep well,” I whisper as the man chuckles softly and hangs up. I lay my phone down and let out a sigh before sobbing into my hands pathetically.
Maybe...maybe I’m just crazy, or the devil got inside...either way my soul is gone.
Maybe I’m just crazy instead...I’ve been technically a prostitute for the past five years...six if you count my first year with Devon...my pimp...which I guess you probably should since he started collecting money for my services within a few weeks. Which I guess makes me sound like a worthless slut...and I suppose that description would be right.
Funny the thoughts that go through my broken mind as my first ‘client’ of the night releases himself inside my womb making my skin crawl and my body shudder in disgust which made him smile, clearly thinking I was enjoying being tied up in such an uncomfortable position in another flea bitten hotel, the skin on my ass glowing a bright red, each welt throbbing from the lashes he dealt out with his belt. My poor, tortured breasts would probably never be the same, who the hell gets off sticking pins and needles into a woman’s breasts and nipples as she is gagged. Even a couple along my mound, pushing dangerously and painfully close to my vulnerable womanhood, leaving the man panting and me fighting back screams of pure agony.
I honestly wish that I could say that this is the worst that I’ve ever experienced, or that “don’t scream bitch, I want you to hurt after this. And I’m going to get my money’s worth of that prized cunt” was something I only have nightmares about. But this is my life...this is the life of many prostitutes. We live in a constant fear of finally having that one client that just goes too far and kills us. I’ve been lucky to have lasted so long considering the amount of drugs I used to force into my system everyday for years. I am not proud of much in my life, but I have been clean since I was nineteen and I am beyond proud of that. Now...to figure out how to get myself out of this life and living a life with no pain, no fear. Just love and healing....that is what I need.
I feel the man stand up, his now wilted manhood slipping from my most private of places with a slight popping noise before he draws back and lands a hard smack against my sensitive and exposed clit making me scream in shock and pain and causing him to laugh evilly. He tosses a couple hundred bucks onto the bed as he gets dressed in his Armani suit...yep, third lawyer of the day...prosecutor this time. Assholes.
He unties my legs and arms and leaves, leaving me to deal with the pins he pushed into my body. I wince and whimper in pain as each stick of metal slides from my flesh. I pull the final pin out and start wiping up the blood streaks that slid over my body from the tiny pinpricks and the painful welts on my poor, poor ass, when my phone rings out a shrill sound causing me to jump slightly in shock before sighing and picking it up.
“Hello sir, I was just about to leave to go back to Hollis,” I say softly into the phone without waiting for a reply from the deep breathing on the other end of the line.
“No need Scarlet,” Devon states, a throaty chuckle strumming through the line causing my skin to break out in gooseflesh, and my stomach to churn at the fake name he gave to me. “I need you for a bachelor party tonight, Craig got himself stretched too thin, you’re going to him now kitten. The money you earned from that man is your severance.”
“Oh god,” I whisper as I feel my body tremble slightly.
“Just do what he says and you’ll be fine kitten, good luck,” Devon says before hanging up. I feel like my world is spinning out of control as my heart pounds painfully in my throat, making it hard to breath as I fight off a full fledged panic attack. Yes, I hate my job, but Devon takes care of us, his girls. Keeps us clean, safe and protected, well as much as he can protect a bunch of prostitutes who flirt with death on an hourly basis...charging a couple hundred for a quick roll in the sheets. But Craig...Craig is like the Lex Luthor to his girls. He tortures them frequently, keeps them locked up when they’re not in use. But he normally as pretty classy customers...with very deep pockets. He holds two types of women...street walkers....and escorts. Considering I’m new to him and still pretty young, hell I’ve only legally been allowed to drink for three weeks, he’d try me in escort first it seemed...what with being in a bachelor party.
I take a deep breath to try and collect my thoughts as I collect my clothes and quickly have a shower and get dressed before leaving the skevey motel and heading to my tiny one bedroom, bottom floor apartment with windows that don’t lock and a door that doesn’t fully close, termite infested paper thing walls, and cracks in the ceiling. I own a ratty couch, a table and one fold up chair, a busted cd player and an air mattress.
Yeah, I said Devon treated us well...but he kept the money...we barely got anything ever. I get home as my cell phone rings and I quickly answer as I sit on the uncomfortable couch.
“Hello,” I say softly into the receiver.
“Scarlet. This is Craig,” I hear the raspy voice lull out.
“Hello sir, how may I help you this evening?” I say, praying this was just a social call.
“I am just making sure that Devon explained your new situation with you before the end of the day?”
“Yes sir, he told me I am now yours, I hope I do not, disappoint you,” I lie flawlessly through the phone as I fight back the hateful tears threatening to slide down my cheeks.
“I’m sure you will, I will need you tomorrow evening around eight for a bachelor party. We will discuss your future Monday morning at ten sharp, does that work for you?”
“Yes sir, just one question if I may?”
“Go ahead,” he says, clearly amused as I roll my eyes slightly.
“Sir, is there a fantasy these gentlemen have requested?”
“Oh, I almost forgot, thank you. They want school-girl, which I think you can pull off wonderfully. They just want the look and some dances according to the guy who ordered it, Ashley I believe. No school girl role playing...just the skirts and shirts and shoes kind of thing, can you do that?”
“Of course sir,” I reply, letting out a small yet shaky breath.
“Very well, I will be at your apartment by seven tomorrow evening to assess your outfit and take you to the clients. I suggest you soak and rest tonight Scarlet, you’ll be non-stop tomorrow.”
“Yes sir, sleep well,” I whisper as the man chuckles softly and hangs up. I lay my phone down and let out a sigh before sobbing into my hands pathetically.
Maybe...maybe I’m just crazy, or the devil got inside...either way my soul is gone.
Notes
So, i got this idea tonight driving home from a party...weird huh?its probably going to be a little slow moving but meh, i'll update when i can.
Comment, rates and subscriptions help keep me motivated though :) please and thanks :)
@Insertsarcasmhere
You can still subscribe! I am still updating on here I just made the site as one convenient way to get any information and ask questions :)
3/15/14