“Yes, I know about life participation. You’re young, beautiful, been to hell and back, and now you want to spread your wings and fly,” he mocked, putting his hands out to his sides like a bird in flight. Chuckling, he continued, “Dirty girl, you’re a whore. Nothing but a whore. And now you’re a whore with no clients. How are you going to take care of yourself? Have you even talked to your aunt about going to see her?” He fisted her hair and yanked her closer to him. Through gritted teeth, he whispered a vile declaration against her soft cheek. “Does your aunt know what a filthy whore you are? Fucking me for money. Selling that tantalizingly sweet body so shamelessly?”
He held her there for a moment, balling her hair tightly in his fist. Nervously her eyes flitted to his, and he stared deeply into them. It was like he wanted her soul, and his dark eyes never left hers.
She wiggled, trying to sit up, his stinging words rehashing in her brain. She was hurt, cut deep to her heart like never before. Taunting memories of heartache and devastation infiltrated her mind, all the harrowing loss she’d suffered—the turmoil she had faced. What hell her life had been since the day she lost her mama. Sir’s fist balled tighter against her scalp and she winced in pain, shouting, “Sir, that fucking hurt!” Her skittish eyes met his once more, though his eyes were relaxed—a storm brewing in the ocean blue of his irises. He looked so calm, yet stern.
“Stella?” Sir challenged and crushed his soft lips on hers, his tongue probing deep into her mouth as it caressed and entwined with hers. She resisted, half-heartedly, but all she could do was moan. Fuck, not now, Sir, she thought as his hand reached under her nightie and trailed across her thigh, but she knew damn well she wanted him badly.
She shuddered when his fingertips touched her lower lips, searching for the pearl hidden inside. She broke the kiss and whispered, “Sir…”
“Don’t talk,” he replied as he returned his mouth to hers. His fingers caressed her clit, but she didn’t need any help. Her pussy was already soaking wet with her juices. Still gripping her wrists with one hand, he unfastened his jeans with the other, letting them fall to the floor. She felt the warm probing of his cock, hard between her thighs as he lifted her nightie and plunged himself into her.
“Ahhh!” she cried out as his entire length slid deep inside her swollen pussy. He held her wrists tight as he pounded into her, over and over again, her hard nipples scraping against his muscular chest. “Oh, fuck…” she gasped, feeling his cock pummel her pussy, filling her completely. He was like a man possessed, and with each powerful thrust, he brought her closer and closer to her inevitable orgasm. He grabbed her ass with his free hand and pulled her hard against his relentless pumping, moaning into her mouth as he kissed and crushed her lips with his once more.
Breathless, she turned her head to come up for air and as he pounded his stiff cock into her, harder and deeper, she groaned, “Michael… I’m… going… to… come… ooh, FUUUUCKKK! Ooh, ooh, aaahh!” Her body tightened, she arched her back, and dug her nails into his tight, muscly ass. She exploded, her pussy spasming around his thick length.
Michael watched her face as she came hard then his own body tightened. His ass clenched, and he grunted like a wild animal, “Hmmm… hmmm… hmmm…” He jerked into her hard, and she felt a hot stream of cum shoot deep inside her. They both gasped and moaned as they came together in a sea of light and dark. He continued to fuck her hard and steady until she came again then lowered her arms and held her tight, pinning her against the wall with his strong body. Panting, sweaty, and shaking, he buried his face into the crook of her neck and whispered, “Stella, you can’t leave me.”
She struggled against him, sliding down the wall then stood up. “As good as that was, I can and I will. You’re a liar, Michael, and I that’s why I can’t stay with you. Just because you fuck like a god, doesn’t mean you own me. Why would you think I’d want to stay here anyway? You’re just another fucking john. A client—and your time is up, the deal’s over. You got what you wanted. Sixty days, even longer than that now, and I have to—”
He zipped up his pants and said, “I’m the liar? I’m the fucking liar? You stayed with that drug dealer for three years. Why did you do that? Was he fucking you? Were you getting high with him like your mother did? What did he—”
She ran over to him, her fists flying. “Don’t say that! Don’t you fucking say that! You’re a dirty liar!” She pounded on his chest as the sobs racked her body. “Stop! Stop it!” She fell to the floor, her sobs coming faster now and her words coming out in bursts. “Stop… just stop. God, I miss her so much…”
“Oh fuck, shit, I didn’t mean to—” He ran his fingers through his hair and sat down next to her on the floor.
“Go away. I hate you.” She wiped her face on her nightie, not caring for one second what she looked like, or even what he thought.
He took a deep breath and exhaled. “Hate me, Stella, but it’s the truth. Walt and your mom were using together. You don’t know the whole story.”
“Maybe I would if some lying jackass would tell me the whole story.”
“Stop with the name calling. I know you’re hurt and upset, but you sound like a five-year-old.”
She scoffed, “Me? Name calling? What the fuck do you call me? Kitten? Dirty girl? Whore? What’s up with all that?”
“That’s different. You are a whore.”
“And you’re a liar, so what makes it different?”
“I’m not lying.” He turned to face her and as she jerked her head to look the other way, he cupped her chin and pulled her face to his. “I promise you, I am not lying. I did have history with Walt, but I bought you to protect you.”
She pulled his hand away from her face and sighed. “What kind of history do you have with Walt? I’d never seen you with him until that night.”
“We have a long history.” He paused and let out a long breath. “Where do I start? You see, I grew up in a foster home in the city. And one day there was this—”
She felt the heat rise in her cheeks and she asked, “You grew up in a foster home? Fuck, why didn’t you say something?” She had him pegged as a rich boy with a silver spoon up his ass, and now she was finding out he was a foster kid? Fuck.
“I don’t usually tell whores about my past.” He glanced at her, stood, and said, “You know what? I don’t know why I’m telling you this now. Go if you want to. I’m done with this shit. There are plenty more whores where you came from. I just wanted to make sure you were safe.”
With those words, he walked toward the door, and she jumped up after him. “Michael, wait! I really want to hear this.”
He turned around and said, “I’ll have Maga bring you some things. Good luck.” And with that, he walked out the door.
Chapter 11
Stella tried the doorknob, knowing it was probably locked. She slumped down on the floor trying to take in everything she’d just heard. Her thoughts were scrambled, and she felt numb, like she had no feelings at all. “Okay,” she said aloud to herself, “Mom was using with Walt. Makes sense.” She wondered if that was the reason he was so good to her and she got the high dollar perks he didn’t give to the other girls. She was also curious to know about Michael and Walt growing up together. Was Walt a foster kid as well?
She glanced over at the door as she heard it open. She stood, ready to get some questions answered from Sir, but it was Maga who entered, holding a Coach duffel bag and some clothes. “Hey Maga, so I guess you heard?” she said and quickly sat down again on the bed when she felt Sir’s cum seeping from her pussy and down her thighs. Impulsively, she tried to slide her nightie between her legs to catch it and hoped Maga wouldn’t notice.
“Yes, dear, I heard. You are leaving today. I wish you well in your adventures in life. God bless you.” She sat the duffel on the floor. “Here are some clothes and shoes, I hope you like them.” She turned to Stella and lightly ran her tanned fingers over Stella’s cheek. “Take care of yourself, and I wish you well.”
“Thanks, Mags, I’ll be all right.” Stella wanted to stand, but didn’t want to have to deal with her leak issue, so she patted the bed beside her. “Have a seat, I’m not leaving just yet. I still have to get cleaned up.”
Maga looked toward the door as if she was frightened of Michael coming in, but she sat down anyway. “Just for a minute, dear. I have to get back to my work.” She forced a smile.
“You knew Sir when he was younger?” she asked then added, “Did you work with foster homes? Were you a foster mom? I used to tutor foster kids in first and second grade when I was in high school. I always wanted to be a social worker so I could help them out. That obviously didn’t happen.” She shrugged and laughed aloud, “I don’t think they’d let me near the kids, now.”
“Oh, Miss Stella, you have such a beautiful heart, and there is so much life in you. You have a long and great life ahead of you, I’m sure. Now I must run along. Your things are already packed in the duffel. I wish you well.” Maga curled her arms around Stella’s waist and hugged her. “I’ll leave the door open so you can leave when you’re ready to go. I’ll miss your smiling face. Take care, and God bless you.”
“Okay, Maga. I’ll miss you and your amazing food, too! Bye for now.” She squeezed her tight then let her go. She still wanted to know about Michael’s life, but she knew Maga wouldn’t tell her too much.
*****
Stella rummaged through the duffle looking for something easy to wear. She came across an off-white tank with gold sparkles and some long denim shorts. She pulled out some strappy silver and gold sandals and put them on. Everything fitted her perfectly. Michael or Maga had a good eye for fashion. She felt great after the hot shower and new clothes, and was even more excited now she knew she’d soon be free. She hurriedly pinned her dark red curls on top of her head, grabbed the Coach duffle, and walked out of her room for the last time.
She stepped out onto the veranda and found Michael sitting on the wicker couch, reading his tablet. “I see the clothes fit. Maga took the liberty of buying you a fresh but classy wardrobe.” He took a long drink of what looked like whiskey on ice. He set the glass down and swirled his thumb through the drops of condensation that had formed on the glass.
Stella nervously bit her lip. “Yes, they are nice, and they do fit. She did a great job, thank you.” She’d hoped he would give her some money to help her get by for a few days, but she wasn’t about to ask. She knew he’d already paid for their time together, but she was hoping he might have given her something from the goodness of his heart, especially as he’d just fucked her. If he did, great. If he didn’t, well, she knew how to make a few bucks, but without Walt there to protect her, that could be dangerous.
He looked up at her, and she hoped he didn’t see her hands trembling. She moved her weight from one foot to the other and tapped her shoe on the cement. “Well? Are you going to say anything, or are you just going to stare at me?” She wanted to be strong, stay tough, but she felt his deep blue eyes piercing through the façade. She wanted him to say something, do something, before she got caught under his spell again.
“Okay, I’ll bite. I’ll play your silly game. You know you can’t make it out there alone.” He stood up and moved toward her. Lifting his eyebrow, he asked, “How much do you want?”
“How much do I want for what?” she quipped. Was he talking business?
He stopped in front of her and took her arm, pulling her into him. She gasped. She could feel his hard body under his shirt, and she had to be careful not to lose the fire she’d built up inside. His hand worked its way around her hip, and he grabbed her ass cheek, squeezing it tightly.
“Oww! Stop!” She was surprised at her reaction. Her mouth was hollering ‘no’ while her body was saying ‘yes’.
“How much do you want to be my whore?” he asked as he let up on the squeeze. “That is what you do, right? Get paid to fuck?”
Fuck! He did it again. He had a peculiar way of making her doubt herself and every time he did, she felt her self-confidence wane and the fire in her belly burn hotter. She took a deep breath. “You can’t afford me,” she smirked, practically shaking the words out. Fire, stay put.
“I can and I will. Now no more of this nonsense. You want to be a whore? I’ll let you be a whore, only this time, it’s on my terms. Not yours, not Walt’s—mine. Got it?”
Stella stood there, stumped. If she left, she’d have nothing but what was in the duffle bag. If she stayed, she’d get paid, have a comfortable bed, Maga’s food, but she’d have to submit to his shameless urge for domination. “How long?”
“As long as it takes.”
“Five thousand dollars a night.”
“Five hundred, you aren’t that good.”
“Fuck you!”
“I plan to.”
“Two thousand.”
“One thousand and that’s it.”
She thought for a minute. She’d never made a thousand dollars a night, and at least with Sir, she knew what to expect. “Okay, a thousand dollars a night.”
“Good, now that we got that handled, come with me.” He walked across the veranda toward the house, and she followed behind.
“Hey, Michael. Uhm...” She wondered how long this job was going to last and didn’t know how to ask.
He stopped and turned quickly, his eyes piercing holes right through her. “The rules don’t change. Don’t ever call me Michael. Not now, not ever.”
Her heart jumped into her throat. She’d never seen him look at her that way. Lowering her eyes, she whispered, “Yes, Sir,” and followed him into the dark dungeon as she had so many times before, wondering just what it was that she’d agreed to.
Chapter 12
When they stepped into the dungeon, she slid off what she’d already deemed to be her favorite new shoes and slipped out of her new clothes. She instinctively moved to her position on the floor pillow. On her knees, legs spread, breasts out and leaning back on her arms. If she’d learned anything over the past two months, it was how to ‘assume the position’.
He kneeled beside her, licked his middle finger, and reached between her thighs. She bit her lip, holding in a gasp. His hand was rough as he rubbed her pussy back and forth, a little more pressure with each pass of his fingers.
He teased her clit with his index finger, now wet with her juices, probing and stroking her pussy lips. “Do you really think you can make it on your own? Out there in this big world where no one, not even your drug addict pimp, can help you?” he asked, his face inches from hers. She felt every breath he took, watched every word he spoke form on his lips.
Lowering her face, she replied, “Yes, Sir, I think I can. I took care of my mama for years. She was—ahhh…” The warm ache quickly built deep inside her.
He caressed her pussy from her clit to her ass, his thumb stopping every now and then to tease her sweet spot. “Your mama? And where did that get you?”
She swayed her hips, concentrating on his fingers, and tried to drown out his cutting words. This was a job, she would play the part. Although he was right and she knew it, she just didn’t want to hear it. Her knees started shaking, his fingers working deftly along her slit then sliding around each side of her swollen clit, his middle finger barely touching it. He circled then rubbed, and she trembled and let out a gasp. He shook his head. “I’m really disappointed in you. You seem to have already forgotten the rules, dirty girl. How can you take care of yourself if you can’t remember one simple rule?”
“I can remember the rules, Sir,” she panted, bucking her hips against his hand. “Sometimes, I just don’t want to follow them,” she teased as she ground her greedy pussy harder onto his fingers. She didn’t care if he punished her for coming. Her body trembled, and beads of sweat formed on her lip. “Oooh, ahhh! Sir… may I come, please?”
Suddenly, he stopped moving his fingers and gently clamped her swollen clit between his thumb and forefinger. She yelped and moaned as the warm sensation of her or
gasm flowed through her body. He squeezed the tender bud a little tighter, leaned in by her ear, and whispered, “See, Stella? You are nothing but a dirty whore who doesn’t play by the rules.”
She didn’t care. She wasn’t concerned about punishment, spankings, or pleasing him. All she wanted to do was forget. As her orgasm washed through her, she shuddered, her legs trembling, circling her hips on his hand with her clit lightly pinched between his finger and thumb.
He stood and said in a cold, unfeeling way, “For that, kitten, you will be punished. I told you... the rules haven’t changed.”
Surprisingly aroused at his forcefulness, she took a deep breath and gathered her senses. With her pussy throbbing and wet and her heart beating out of her chest, she sat there, arms behind her head, her breasts out, and her knees apart. Weak and panting, she looked into his eyes and replied, “Yes, Sir. I’m sorry, but you—”
“Did I say you could talk, little slut? That will be the last words out of your mouth unless you are directly spoken to.”
She lowered her gaze as she saw the crop in his hand. She knew what that meant. She closed her eyes and prayed she could stay still. It was harder to stay still when he teased her with the crop, and she wasn’t bound to the bench or the bed. Still weak from her orgasm, she sat there and waited for the fiery sting of painful pleasure.
“Slave, get on your knees and crawl over here,” he demanded, pointing to the spanking bench. She started to crawl, then a ‘crack’ rang in her ears, coupled with painful heat as the crop landed on the fleshy part of her butt.
“Ahhhh, that fucking hurts! Owww,” she moaned as the pain once again sliced through her bottom and moved up her spine. Everything went white as she struggled to control her breathing. “Sir?” Heavy tears welled up in her eyes.
“Ass higher, I want to see what I’m paying for,” he barked. As she crawled to the bench, she felt the burning pain move deep inside her from her fleshy cheek. She wanted to reach back and rub her wound, but the crop flew through the air again, and she jumped when it landed in a stinging slash against her ass. “Aaaggghhh!” she cried out, gritting her teeth as she tried to endure the ripping pain she felt on her bottom.
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