Chapter One: Punishment
It's been 4 months, since Madison died. Of course I still think about her often. I try desperately not to, but every time I see a brunette walking by, I immediately think its Madison. That maybe they really didn't kill her and just warned her to stay away from me. But unfortunately, my mind always took me back to her cold body every time I have a little hope.
As for my current lifestyle, I'm still high on drugs most of the time. I switched from cocaine to heroine because I needed something stronger to get me out of bed every day. Every since that dreadful day, I've felt so lost and heroine was the only thing that helped me cope with everything. During this time, I started 'dating' Dion, the leader of our family. You're probably thinking what the hell Spencer, you're gay! And you're right, I am gay but sometimes things don't work out the way we want them to. I had to survive and Dion made it a lot easier for me, along with the constant drugs he fed me. I was a true junkie. My father would have been so proud.
Even though I had Skye, and by default Dion, I was alone in this world. I had no family, no friends, and I lost the love of my life. I was stuck with no place to go, no place to feel safe and secure. A blonde, blue eyed girl was not safe living on the streets of New York, so the family was all I had. Even after everything they did to me when they found out I wanted to leave, I stayed. Like I said, I was stuck. Stuck in life my mother threw me into by hating who I was. I too started hating myself, hating the life I created for myself.
You're probably wondering what the consequences of my wanting to leave were. There's really no easy way to start that tale but here goes. Dion locked me in the basement of the house without food and water for 2 days. At least I think it was 2 days, I blacked out often during the whole ordeal. Now that wasn't the worse part of my punishment, and believe me when I say I wish it was. I was tortured and raped by at least 20 of the male members of the family. I couldn't do anything to stop them. Dion had tied me down on the bed with my hands above my head tied to the headboard and my legs spread out wide with my feet tied to the footboard. I was completely naked and helpless.
Dion was the first one to come into the room. At first I didn't know what was happing until I noticed him taking off his pants. He definitely took an enhancer or something because his dick was longer and bigger than usual. He got on the bed and straddled my chest, with his left hand he opened my mouth and stuffed his dick in. He shoved it down my throat, making it difficult for me to breathe.
Without realizing what I was doing, I bit down hard on his dick causing him to jump back and pull out of my mouth. I finally could breathe again, but Dion wasn't happy and didn't care that he almost suffocated me with his dick. He called me a stupid whore and socked me in the face a couple of times. I felt my face bruise and swell right away. The blood seeping from the wound on my face mingled with the tears I had begun to shed. I wished he would just knock me out, but he knew that a bruised prostitute didn't make a lot of money.
After a couple of seconds he was back on the bed rougher than ever. Unlike a few times we've had sex I wasn't turned on by him and was very dry. Come to think of it, I was high the majority of the time we had sex so it was easy to be turned on. Not this time though. This was all about punishment and submission. He wanted to prove that he was the only one who controlled my life, not me.
He shoved his dick inside me hard and I felt my insides tearing. Oh he definitely took something because I was painfully full. So painful that I began to cry again which just caused him to thrust into me harder and harder until he finally came. I felt his warm sperm flood into my center and that's when it hit me that he wasn't wearing a condom. After a few more minutes of his fucking me, I just couldn't handle the pain anymore. I closed my eyes, shut out the world, and retreated to the good days of my life, praying he would finish soon. When Dion came inside me for a second time, he removed his dick, dressed and walked out the room.
I thought it was over until the next guy came in and fucked me and then the next and the next. This went on until the last guy in the house fucked me. Thankfully Dion was the only one who came in me. He warned the other guys beforehand that they could have sex with me without a condom, but they couldn't cum inside me. If they did and Dion found out, they would have to deal with the consequences. So every time a guy was about to release, he pulled out his dick and sprayed his cum all over my naked body, not caring where it landed. Some would stick their dick in my mouth and make me drink them dry, while others unsuccessfully tried to enter my ass but the way I was tied up made it too difficult of a task.
Once my punishment was over, I never felt so shitty in my life. I couldn't even stand on my own once I was untied. I collapsed immediately not being able to carry my own weight and from the lightheadedness from not eating and drinking. I passed out on the floor and awoke to a concerned Skye who was right by my side. Apparently I had been out of it for a full day, with little to no response.
I took me a week to recover and get back to work. The first days of work were terrible, I couldn't help but cry. I wanted to kill myself, slice my wrist open because I wanted to die so badly. I hated my life so much that I didn't feel a thing as I watched the blood flowing down my wrist. I was more than ready to let go of this fucking life I was living. But Skye found me and once again saved my life. I hated her as I watched her stitch and bandage my wrist. Why couldn't she just let me die? Why does she want me to be apart of this dreadful life we're living?
I yelled and screamed at her, calling her bitches and whores and she just sat there, crying with me. I tried to remain mad but I couldn't once she told me that there was a bigger purpose and meaning to what we're experiencing and that's why she saved me. I wasn't mad at her anymore but I pitied her. She sees this horrible life every single day and yet she still has hope that we'll come out better after all of this pain. Yeah, I pitied her naiveness.
As I mentioned before, after the punishment, I became Dion's girlfriend. I was his property and nobody could touch me except him and my customers. I didn't want to be his girlfriend, or property, I still wanted to be Madison's. The only good thing was that by being his girlfriend I finally got to sleep on a real bed. Not that the bed was comfortable but it was much better that the blanket pallet I always slept on.
In the beginning of the relationship I had to sleep with him every night whether I wanted to or not. If I refused, he would just force himself on me. As much as I fought against him, it never fazed him; he would just keep pounding his dick into me. After about a week of fighting I knew that I never had a chance to win, so why fight it. So I would just lie back on the bed and let him do is job without getting hurt in the progress.
Not too long after my complete submission, Dion became a 'nice' boyfriend and gave me a shot of smack every time we had sex. He hoped it would loosen me up and make me enjoy it more. The bad part was that he was right but only because the drugs tricked me into thinking I was fucking someone I actually wanted to be with. That was the only way I could cum and enjoy myself while escaping at the same time. He just thought he could work it and that the smack enhanced it.
Dion also gave me what he thought was every girl's dream. It wasn't sweet or anything like that, to contrast it hurt like hell!! Because I was his sweet, loving girlfriend he wanted to make sure that everyone knew it. He wanted to make sure nobody would every touch me again without knowing who I belonged to. So he branded me like a farmer would brand his cattle. The brand design was a lock with an encircled capital D. It stands for Property of Dion and was burned into my skin right above my groin area. Yeah, what a guy, right?
I was a living ghost, I lost 22 pounds and you could practically see all of my bones sticking out from my skin. I had huge rings under my eyes and you could definitely see that I used drugs to put it nicely. I wasn't the nice and innocent girl everyone knew back Ohio and Cali. But I didn't mind, the only thing I wanted was to die, but I didn't have the strength or will to kill myself. I didn't eat or sleep much, and sex had the same meaning to me as brushing my teeth every day. It was something I had to do, a chore. Every single day my routine consisted of just getting high and fucking.
To make matters worse, I found out that I was pregnant but I didn't know for sure if Dion was the father. It wasn't one of my clients that I knew for sure, because I always used protection. I immediately knew it was either Dion's or one of the two guys who raped me the night before my "official" punishment. Unlike the others, they weren't instructed not to cum in me. That night three different guys came in me and one of those bastards was the father of my child. At the time though, I couldn't afford a paternity test, so I just told myself the baby was Dion's.
I decided not to tell anyone that I was pregnant, including Skye. I didn't want to take the chance that the family would hurt me, or worse, hurt my baby. I continued to see clients, hoping they wouldn't notice the small bump I had developed. I couldn't risk losing my job, because that meant no money which automatically meant no money for Dion. No money for Dion meant punishment and I didn't know if I could survive another one, especially now since I was pregnant.
I thought about having an abortion, but my Catholic upbringing wouldn't allow me to do such a thing. Prostitution and being a druggie was one thing, aborted my child was something I just couldn't do. Plus I didn't have money for an abortion, so the decision to keep the baby was easily made.
I tried to quit the heroine because I wanted to become a great mother, but I couldn't shake my addiction. The first day I got by okay, it was hard but I had experienced worse. The following days were hell. I became all sweaty, my body temperature varied between hot and cold. My body would become stiff, making it very difficult to complete regular tasks, let alone perform my job duties. I was fine for about a week but then life happened and I couldn't handle it anymore and began using smack again only this time I mixed it with lots of alcohol and cigarettes. Yep, my father would have been so proud. His soon-to-be 17 year old daughter was not only a prostitute, but a pregnant prostitute who's addicted to heroin and alcohol.
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Present day
I thought morning sickness only lasted the first trimester. Almost every morning this week has started with me bending over the toilet. Thankfully Dion was a hard sleeper and never heard me toss the contents of my stomach. That's a conversation that needed to wait until after my stomach stopped doing flips. I normally didn't have much to get rid of so I spent a lot of time just dry heaving. You could see that I've gained some weight around my stomach but for the rest of just consisted of skin and bones. I knew I was pregnant, but to the people who knew me, it just looked like I was eating more.
The store where Mitch's office is located is always open for business, regardless of the hours. Questions are never asked because we're in New York. Plenty of businesses stay open 24 hours. It is the city that never sleeps after all. The store always smells like drugs and cigarettes and is always hot and stuffy, sometimes making your clothes stick to you. I made my way towards Mitch's office in the back of the store and knocked gently on the open door.
"Hey." I mouthed to him with a slight wave.
Mitch, sitting in his comfy leather chair with a cigar in his mouth and a phone to his ear, gives me a smile and motions for me to take a seat. More than likely he was on a business call. He's always seen with a phone attached to one of his ears. He's on the phone so much that I wouldn't be shocked if he died of brain cancer one day.
I glanced around the room waiting for him to finish his phone call. I've never really taken the time to look around before. I'm usually just here to find out who I'm fucking for the night, not to learn more about Mitch. His office was painted a deep brown, more chocolate actually. With the curtains always closed, the dark room was only provided light by a simple desk lap. On the walls hangs different kind of posters with naked woman posing in various sexual positions.
There was also a bookcase, and most importantly, a file cabinet that probably held all of his prostitute's information, including who we slept with, how much money we've made and profile pictures. The file was basically a prostitute portfolio, hell it even included our favorite positions and how we rate with our blow jobs. Even though I was a junkie, I was the best he had. Not anything to be proud of but we can't all be class president.
After a minute or two Mitch ends the call and closes his cell phone with a big smile on his face.
"What are you doing tonight?" He asked me with a twinkle in his eye. That sparkle always means he has a special client for me. I wonder who I'll possibly be fucking tonight. I pray that it's a guy with a small dick because after my night with Dion last night, I can't take another dick in me so soon. He didn't care that I had just finished fucking the last few hours, he was horny and he wanted me to take care of him. That's exactly what I did, right after he gave me another shot of smack in my vein.
"Actually that's why I'm here. I was hoping you had a job for me. Because I need to pay Dion soon and I barely have enough to cover the minimum, even after last night. " I told him, hoping that that twinkle meant what it always did. Dion makes me suffer when I don't come up with the money he needs every month. The last time I was short, he made me fuck his younger brother and cousin, at the same time. I don't need to go into details, but I will say they were not gentle with me. Since then I've tried to make sure I have the right amount each and every time.
"I have the perfect job for you tonight. The guy I just got off the phone with called me a couple of days ago, asking me if I had some beautiful girls working here. He didn't want any girl who looked like a hooker and I immediately thought of you. I knew you would be the perfect candidate for the job so I sent him your photos. He called to tell me yes, his client has selected you." He explains with excitement bubbling in his throat. It's amazing how he can get excited over selling pussy.
"Wait…uh, which photos did you send him?"
"The ones on the beach where you are almost naked, those are beautiful pictures." He said with a widening grin.
I panicked. I don't look anything like the bright-eyed girl in those pictures anymore. "You know that I don't look like that girl anymore right? I don't have that shinny blond hair, those big clear blue eyes or the body!" I cried out, hoping he would understand the dilemma. He's feeding some sucker false hope. I'm a junkie and I think I look like a junkie, no one would think otherwise.
"I know that, but he doesn't know that! He will pay you 1500 dollar for one session, which is like 6 times more than you usually earn!"
"What!" I yell with excitement. "Someone is willing to pay that much money just to fuck me? I can't believe it." Actually, to be honest, I can because I'm that damn good, high or drunk. Now that I think about, I realized I should have been a high-class call girl instead of a dirty street hooker. I wasn't making shit compared to what I'll make tonight. Plus, I need to start saving money for the baby and this will help a lot.
"So who's the client?" I asked, curious to know who the mystery person is.
"Her name is Ashley Davies."
"Sorry, I can't do it" I said shaking my head. I looked down to avoid his questioning glare.
"And why the hell not Spencer? You might never get this opportunity again! If you fuck this woman you don't need to worry about paying Dion and finally get some new decent pair of clothes!" He must have noticed my tattered and oversized clothes. Hell Stevie Wonder could see I needed an entire new wardrobe. But given that I give the remainder of my money after paying Mitch his cut to Dion, I never had enough money left to spoil myself.
All I could think about is Madison. The last girl that I touched intimately, the girl I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. The last girl I ever let touch me. The same girl who was killed by a single gun shot and died all because she fell in love with the wrong person. My dear, dear Madison Duarte. God I miss you.
I look up to find Mitch's eyes on me. His face flinches when he notices that my eyes have begun to water. "I just can't have sex with another woman. It's too hard and too soon for me. I can't stop thinking about Madison." I said, my voice cracking with the intense pain that has resurfaced.
Mitch comes towards me gives me a loose hug, trying to comfort me. "It'll be alright honey, I knew you cared about Madison and Madison cared you. But it's been almost 4 months and you know that you have to start your life again. Madison would want that for you." Wow, my pimp is giving out fatherly advice as if I'm not about to go and fuck someone for money.
I sighed. I can hardly say to know him. "Maybe you're right, so who is this Ashley Davies"
"You've never heard of Ashley Davies?" He asked me with a shocked face. His face softens once he remembers that I lived on the streets for the last year and some months. I have no I idea what's going on in the rest of the world, especially when it came to new music.
"Hello, me on the streets a year… No television or papers or radio." I'm missing out on so much in my life, my young life.
"Sorry, I forgot. Uh…, anyway Ashley Davies is the best and at the moment the most popular rock star. Every single that has been released from her CD has been a hit. Also she is one of the riches teenagers in this world!" By the way Mitch is acting you would think he wanted to fuck her, regardless of her request for a female.
Wait. If she's so popular and successful, why does she need to hire a hooker to get laid? There are probably enough girls and guys dying to sleep with her. Or is she that ugly with a huge pimple on her nose or something?
"If she is so famous, why does she need to hire someone?"
"Because, she likes to have sex with different girls each night and her record company is getting upset about the constant bad publicity about her private life. So her manager called me to arrange something for her and that's where you come in. For one night of fun and hopefully hot sex with a celebrity, you walk away with 1500 dollars. Now this has to be top secret, no one can no about this or the location. She can't afford more pictures from those damn paps following her around everywhere." He signed and ran his fingers through his hair. "So, are you going to do it?" He asked hopefully.
"Has she seen the pictures of me?" I asked, wondering what the hell she sees in me.
"As far as I know she hasn't seen pictures of you."
That explains it. I hope she handles disappointment well. "Ok, good. She must really like surprises. So what time is this date with the amazing musician?" I hope he notices the sarcasm in my words. I shouldn't be upset with him, hell I came to him tonight and I need the damn money. He was just looking out for his diamond like he always does.
"9:00 pm sharp." He responded while writing something down on a sheet of paper and handing it to me. "Here's the address were you two will meet. Remember to be there at 9:00pm sharp. Don't let me down Spencer. This could open up new doors for the both of us."
"I won't, I promise!" This time the sarcasm was gone.
He stands up and comes around the desk. I stand as well and meet him half way for a big hug.
"Be careful out there." He says releasing me from the hug.
"Don't worry, I will." I definitely plan on being careful but for some reason I don't think he's talking about my safety.