Dear Abby

Dear Abby,

When I was younger, a lot younger, I was really stupid. I used drugs and eventually became a prostitute to feed my drug habit. During that period of my life I had so little self esteem that I allowed men (and women) to do what they wanted with me as long as they gave me the money I needed for my next fix. I ran around on my husband, got pregnant twice and had two abortions, the last of which ended in my getting a hysterectomy.

It started out as a lot of fun. Several boys that I dated were into pot, they talked me into trying some and I did. It made me mellow and I saw things in a nice rosy glow, but it also put me in a very susceptible condition and when one of the guys made a move on me I just laid back and said "groovy." Before long every guy at school was showing me his stash of 'killer weed' and asking me out for a date; a date that consisted of the guy getting me high and then collecting his reward for keeping me high. This went on for several months before one night my date took me to a college fraternity party. I got high that night too and when I woke up the next morning I was naked and laying on a dirty mattress on a floor. I found out later that I had been used by seventeen guys that night and some of them had used me more than once. I started to get up and I heard someone say, "Hey, she's awake" and several naked guys came into the room. They were passing a bong around and they gave it to me and I took a hit and then another, and another and pretty soon the guys were between my legs. Sometime later that night somebody put me in a cab and sent me home. Luckily for me my parents were out of town for the weekend and I didn't have to worry about them making a stink. When I woke up the next morning my pussy was sore and I hurt when I walked and I swore that I wasn't ever going to let that happen to me again.

But the next Friday I went out on a date and the same thing happened. This time my parents were home and I caught holy hell for staying out all night. It's a good thing that they didn't know what I'd done or they would have locked me in the basement for six months. As it was I wasn't allowed to date again for two months. The guys must have missed my easy pussy and didn't want to get cut off again because when I started dating again they always made sure I got home on time.

My parents went out of town a lot leaving me and my older sister home alone. My sister and I had an agreement; we each went our own separate way and we kept our mouths shut. On the weekends my parents were gone, so was I. I was high from the time my date picked me up and I rarely knew what happened from then until I woke up the next day. I did know that my pussy got used - got used a lot! Before I knew it I was the gangbang girl for three different fraternities and I didn't care as long as they gave me what I needed to stay high.

Then the AIDS and herpes scare came along and all of a sudden I didn't seem to be popular anymore. Without guys giving me pot my life got back to that of a fairly normal eighteen-year-old and I finished high school, met a nice guy and got married. For a year everything was cool and then my husband got transferred to the afternoon shift. One night one of his friends, who didn't know about the shift change, stopped by. I hadn't been adapting well to being alone in the evening and so I asked his friend to stay and have a cup of coffee with me. I didn't mean for anything to happen - I just wanted some company - but his friend took out a baggie and asked me if I would mind his lighting up. "Not as long as you share" I said. Before he left that night I had sucked his cock twice and he had fucked me three times including once in the ass.

After that he started coming over every night that Tom worked, I would get high and Al would have sex with me. After a week Al showed up with a buddy and by the end of the third week I was getting high and pulling trains for Al. That went on for about six months and then one night Tom came home and found me with a cock in my ass, in my pussy and in my mouth. There were also five other guys waiting for their turn and when Tom tried to break things up they tied him to a chair in the dining room. I was so high that I didn't know that it had happened until I woke up in the morning and found Tom. He tossed me out onto the street and Al took me in and for the next two months I stayed high and fucked whoever Al brought me.

It was the night of my twenty-first birthday that things got really bad for me. Al threw a party for me that ended up with my getting high and with guys depositing gifts in me. I vaguely remembered the first six guys and then it got very hazy. I remember hearing portions of conversations, but I had no idea what they meant at the time: "...is young, ain't she." "How much you..." "Anyone going to miss..." and then I woke up and found myself on a cot in a windowless room. When I tried the door I found that it was locked so I beat on the door and hollered for someone to let me out. Finally I heard a key in the lock and the door swung open and three black men came in. They didn't say anything, two of them just took my arms and held me while the third did something with a hypodermic needle and then came toward me. I started kicking and screaming and the two guys holding me pushed me back on the cot and held me down while the third man stuck the needle in my arm.

I never left that room or saw clothes for the next week or so. There were injections every day, followed by euphoria and a steady stream of men who did whatever they wanted with me. Black, white Asian, Mexican, they all took my ass, my mouth or my pussy. Then one day no one came into the room, not to use me or to give me an injection. It wasn't long before my skin began to itch and then it almost seemed like my skin began to crawl and I began crying, beating on the door and begging someone to come and help me. After a couple of hours of absolute misery the door opened and one of the black guys came in. He prepared my dose, gave it to me and I immediately felt better. The man said, "You need this" and he held up the needle "and that means you need me. And here is what you are going to do if you want me to help when you start feeling bad." What I had to do was give my body to who ever he said. His name was Washington; he was my pimp and I was his whore.

That's the way it was for the next two years. I did whatever I was told to do and I was rewarded with what I had to have. I did not go quietly into the life; twice I broke away, but it did me no good. The first time I managed to get home, but my parents threw me out; called me a worthless druggie and a whore and slammed the door in my face. By noon the next day I was begging Washington to help me because I was sure that I was going to die. Five months later I tried again and was hooking on my own to earn money for a fix, but I couldn't find anyone that would sell to me and I ended up crawling back to Washington.

After that I gave up any thought of trying to get away and settled in to be the punch board for everyone willing to pay Washington for the privilege; twosomes, threesomes and foursomes were common place and gangbangs were the norm rather than the exception. I was made to sit in a bathtub and be peed on and I had to straddle the tub and do the peeing and there were lots of other things that I had to do that were too disgusting to write about.

Then one day a miracle occurred; I was being gangbanged during a high stakes poker game and the police raided the place. A couple of people at the game told the cops that I was being paid to be there and I was arrested and given six months. The good part was that I was given treatment for my drug problem. I have been clean for almost a full year now and I've met the most wonderful man and we have a great relationship. He wants to marry me and my question is: Should I tell him about my past or cross my fingers and hope to God he never finds out?