Life Sentence Ch. 04byMVPrimetime©
In this chapter Penny tells of the worst time she had as a slave before Michael bought her. There is some detail of violent and abusive behaviour, which I think is appropriate in context. You have been warned...
It was late. I was tired, Penny was exhausted. When I bought her at the Meeting six months before she was almost catatonic. She had hardly spoken a word since and now her throat was sore with the effort of telling me her story. We needed to sleep, but the following morning I instructed her to continue.
I had thought that it was me that had taken her to her first Meeting, but I was wrong. There had been so many girls that I had sold on behalf of The Boss it was easy to forget. In fact Penny had been sold to a Los Angeles pimp known as Hollywood Joe, who broke her and sent her for sale in a Meeting in Paraguay.
I remembered that Meeting, although I had not seen her there. It was on a ranch way out in the country with its own landing strip and a range of huge barns where the girls were auctioned. The Committee had organised a fantastic barbecue feast, and I had brought back an Irish red-head for The Boss.
Penny had not had such a good time.
The German agent who was selling her for Joe had three friends on the plane, all Reps or Players like himself. These were hard men used to dealing in flesh; meat market traders. Penny wasn't a girl to them, she was a fucktoy and a chance for a profit.
On the flight down they had made her perform various acts with fruit, bottles, a double ended dildo and a hairbrush. They had each also used her in every orifice. Once they landed the German had taken her for registration, and the Unbroken Circle tattoo on her wrist. A permanent reminder to her that she was now forever bound into this world of slavery. If she tried to leave she would be hunted down. If she was lucky they would only kill her.
Penny was cleaned up, dressed in a sheer fabric tunic that concealed nothing, and instructed in how to stand a move on the block. She was told that it was in her interest to be as attractive as possible. As the German put it "Men don't damage things they pay big money to get. You make a good price then maybe your new master will be good to you."
Penny gave a dry laugh when she told me that. I asked her why she laughed, and she said "The man who bought me had billions. I cost less than his dry cleaning bill for the year. He wasn't worried about me depreciating in value. But he did want to get his money's worth"
She went on "He was a Florida hotel man. He smuggled me back into the US with a passport belonging to a girl from Arizona that he had brought down with him. That's how my name got changed. I suppose it was part of the dehumanising process, cutting me off from myself He mostly called me "slave" in private, but in company I had to answer to "Denise". The original Denise had been sold in Paraguay a few turns before me. I saw her on the block as I waited for my turn. Poor girl hadn't a clue what was happening to her. When they put her on the block and pulled off her tunic she tried to cover herself up. So they bound her wrists and hauled her into the air to let the auctioneer spin her round and show her off. She wet herself and fainted. She still made a good price though. Fresh meat.
Anyway, I ended up in Miami as personal servant to Mr R. I just called him Master. In many ways he wasn't bad. He never beat me. I just had to keep the house tidy and be available for sex in any position or orifice at any time. It was rare that he would want to fuck more than twice a day, so really it seemed not so bad a situation. But it didn't last. He was bored with me in a month, and he sent me to work in one of his brothels. It was a place with high standards, a top notch hotel, everything clean and all the girls good looking, well dressed and healthy, and all with the dolphin tattoo on their right side. Some had Circles as well, but we never spoke about that. Girls never had more than two customers a day, unless they were doing a group thing. I settled into that life, not happy, but coming to terms with it.
That wasn't easy though, especially on my birthday. I was nineteen, lying naked with my pussy shaved and vibrating egg buzzing in my ass while a fat retired car salesman on Viagra tried to make himself come by getting me to call him "Daddy" as he fucked me. Later that evening I was given to a couple. I usually hated doing couples. The women were always jealous and spiteful, even when they tried to hide it. This one didn't try.
She was in her twenties, her husband much older - a second wife trying to keep her husband amused by playing out his fantasies. She kept talking the whole time, telling us both what to do, praising her husband and flattering him, asking him what he would like, and telling him how much she liked seeing him fuck this slut. She lay with her legs open and had me lick her pussy while her husband took me from behind, keeping up a tirade of "Lick me bitch, that's it you dirty slut, put your tongue in me, come on whore, move your ass when my husband fucks you, that's it, fuck her cunt darling while she licks mine out!" and so on. She took great pleasure in guiding him into my ass, and lay on the bed with her face an inch away from mine spitting her words at me "You're getting a good ass fucking now bitch, and you are going to suck him clean after, you dirty whore."
It wasn't a great birthday. Still, I had started to make friends with the other girls, and that night after hours we had a little party. But then it all changed again. I was put on a bus for Detroit with three other girls and a football team. They had made up four "fuckstations" at the back seats, and they gang banged us the whole way. Those guys are fit. Serious stamina and power in those thighs. I thought I would never walk again.
In Detroit we were handed over to Madame Gene at the Cherryville Hotel. Again she seemed nice, although the second day we were there she had one of the other girls I came up with tied to a table and thrashed until she bled. Gina had complained about a client being too fat, and he had complained to Madame. All the girls had to watch. The lesson stuck.
In Cherryville I got another tattoo, and once a week I had to report to Madame Gene to lick her pussy. She liked girls with real tits. She also liked to watch her girls getting fucked by black men.
Thinking back on it, neither The Boss nor Joe Armandene ever had a black guy at a party. In Miami the clientèle were 99 percent white, mostly retirees and local big wigs Half the guys on the football team on the bus were black, but then again in Detroit it was only a few clients. We were in a white neighbourhood, pretty conservative and typically hypocritical. Clients never want to think too much about what a girl has done before, although knowing she is a whore gives them licence to do whatever they want, but I suspect that a lot of the clients there really didn't want to think about putting their cocks in a pussy that had just been fucked by a black guy."
I was struck by what Penny said. It never occurred to me that racism was so rampant in the prostitution business. But she was right. The Boss was quite openly racist, and would never want to have sex with a girl who had "gone black". He was as phobic about it as he was about anything anal. And I supposed that Joe's Hollywood party gang probably didn't include a diverse racial mix -- how many black actors or producers are there in LA? I had no beef about it. I understood the attraction of all sorts of variations in women, had slept with every kind I could, and was happy to watch mixed race porn, or live shows. There is something exciting about the contrast of skin. What chilled me a little was that as her narrative continued I started to get turned on by the things she described, but Penny had no hint of excitement. To her this was just raw fact. Raw and unpleasant. I began to feel bad about being aroused.
Penny went on "So while just about all of the Johns were white, Madame Gene had half a dozen coloured guys that she regularly set up a scene with, while she sat and watched and a girl licked her out. I had done that a few times, and saw the other girls role playing as teachers taking on two bad boy students, or housewives getting their plumbing fixed, lost hitch-hikers finding a cabin in the woods for the night, and Southern belles taking revenge on strict daddy by playing with the coachman. Madame would brief the man, or men, on what she wanted to see, and sometimes direct things in the scene.
The first time I was on as a performer she had me dressed up as a school girl. Three men came in and I knelt in the middle and sucked them all. Then one of them picked me up and held me in mid air while the other two pulled off my skirt and panties. He was a huge guy, I think he moved furniture for a living.
Once I was bare below he just lifted me onto his cock and then bounced me up and down on it like a doll. The other two were standing wanking as they watched, and after a minute or two they called time on the big guy, and lifted me off. I was made to ride one of them as he sat on a chair, me facing his feet, facing Madame.
The other guy stripped me of my blouse then. No bra of course. Madame liked seeing pale tits being rubbed by dark hands, and the two men shared that task as I rode one and sucked the other.
The girl kneeling half-naked in front of Madame was doing a good job, and I saw she was coming just as the guy on the chair lifted me off him and said "Your turn, man"
The third guy pulled me up, turned me round and moved sideways so Madame could get a good view of my tits hanging down as he bent me over to enter me from behind. I had one hand on the back of the chair, and number two was squeezing and pulling on my nipples, when the big guy stepped up to take my mouth.
I had taken larger cocks before, and in Miami I had learned to deep - throat a man without gagging, but the way he did it was different He just pushed his whole cock into me, right into my throat, and held it there. My nose was crushed against his stomach, his hands had a strong grip on my head, and his friend was holding my waist and pounding my pussy.
I began to run out of air. I started to struggle, to try to breathe, and I felt his grip tighten. I was scared, scared he would crush my skull, scared I would choke and die. They were laughing as I flailed against him. I thought of trying to bite him but I couldn't do it. He had my jaw painfully locked open, and in any case the vision of having his bloody detached penis stuck in my throat horrified me even as I started to black out.
Mercifully he pulled out. I took a deep breath, gasped down another, and tried to snatch a third as I felt his fingers sink into my cheeks to force my jaw open and his cock slammed into me again. I knew there was no pint in struggling, so I tried to keep still and calm, but that wasn't what he wanted, and when your breath starts to run out there is nothing you can do.
He must have done it to me half a dozen times before I finally collapsed. The man behind me kept fucking me the whole time.
I was placed on a sort of padded bench, on my back with my legs spread and my feet on the floor. The men took turns fucking me. When they got close to coming they would pull out and move up to my mouth. Madame liked seeing that, a teenage white girl sucking a black cock as it pumped spunk into her mouth.
Of course she liked watching black girls get fucked by white guys too. And watching two girls of contrasting colour together. Funny that, now that I think of it, the first time I actually got fisted was by a tiny black woman who Madame kept as a maid.
But again that didn't last. Cherryville customers like them fresh and young, and want new girls to choose from. After a few months I was old stock, and hadn't been adopted as a regular request by any important client, so I was shipped out to Chicago."
Penny shrugged then, and and ran her hand over her left breast in an unconscious gesture. I knew it was the site of a tattoo of stars, the sign of the Rocket Club, a very expensive establishment. I was a little surprised at this development, as to be frank I would have thought that by that time Penny would have been a bit too well-used for the Rocketeers. Sometimes The Boss would sell a girl to them, but mostly they took in fresh girls; young runaways picked up by agents who knew they would fetch a good price and trafficked girls from various nations to give the members a wide range of choice.
I remarked on this. "You don't fit the usual profile for The Rocket Club."
Penny looked startled, brought out of her memories. "No. No I wasn't typical, but they do get in some girls with peculiar talents for variety. Not many of the members wanted me to do anything with them, but they liked watching me get airlocked by the waiters, who were all built like male strippers, in the dining room after dinner.
And they liked getting new girls in to fist fuck me and lick me. I got good at getting the girls to make a good show. I felt sorry for some of them, but knew there was no hope for them, so I would talk to them and tell them what to do, and make it clear that it would be better for them if they did it right.
I would strip them on the stage in the middle of the dining room, feel them up, kiss them, lick them, rim them, finger them if they weren't virgins, display them to the diners. Then they did the same to me, although I got them to use dildoes on me, sometimes anally, and if they had small hands, to fist me. That always went down well, some blushing, naked, half-terrified half-disgusted virgin pumping her hand in me while I was coming.
Or I would do a lesson with a girl on the stage with one of the members, or a waiter, teaching her how to suck a man off, or how to use her pussy to clench a cock as she rode him, or lubing her up for her first anal.
The thing was, I knew it wouldn't last unless I made myself indispensable. I knew if the club sold me on it would be back to a brothel, and I didn't want that again. Madame Gene had not restricted our hours like they had in Miami. Customers could take as long as they wanted, but some days I would have six or eight men. That was bad enough, but I knew that there were many worse places.
It didn't work. I did a good job, but the members got bored seeing my pussy get pounded, and I was told to train one of the other girls to do the show. Then Friday came round. Friday night was always a big night, the dining room would be full. I was told I was performing.
They tied me to an X shaped frame, and wheeled me out stark naked and oiled up, freshly shaven and with a ball gag. I was scared. I had seen some girls after these sort of shows. Sometimes they were scarred for life.
The Chairman of the club was there and introduced me. "Ladies and Gentlemen, you all know Denise, who has been entertaining us for the last few months. Well sadly the time has come for her to move on to some exciting new career opportunities (that got a laugh) but we wanted to give her a gift to remember us by, so tonight let me introduce you to Anton, The Jeweller."
"Anton was fully dressed in an old fashioned frock coat and top hat, and carried a leather doctor's bag. He took out of it some long needles, pincers and pliers, and showed them to the crowd, and to me. He started pretty tamely. I had already had my ears pierced for ordinary earrings, but he put in cuffs on the upper parts and spikes in the centre cartilage. He didn't use anaesthetic. Next he did my nose, putting in a stud, Indian style, and then he grabbed my lower lip. He put a ring in it.
Then he started on my body.
He began by piercing my navel. Then he did each of my nipples. Then he did my clitoris.
The gag had muffled my screams, but once he had done all the piercings he removed it and twisted each of the bars he had inserted "To make sure they are not loose" he said. It was as I had my mouth open in a pained gasp that he reached in with forceps and grabbed my tongue. He pulled it out and I saw an enormous needle in his hand, which to great applause he plunged down through my flesh. I couldn't scream, even when he wiggled it about and then pulled it out. Then he put in the bar and finally let my tongue go. I thought it was over then as he bowed to take his applause, but he reached down and fiddled with something and I heard the familiar sound of a tattoo gun. That is when he did this."
Penny touched her right breast, which had a 'tribal style' black sun about three inches across centred on her nipple.
I shuddered and said "That must have hurt like hell."
Penny shrugged. "Not as much as when the guy in Mexico pulled the ring out of the other one."
"Anyway," she went on "the next day I was in what you call the trunk of a car on a long trip to a place I never saw the outside of. I thought they were taking me off to the wilds to kill me and dump my body, so I was sort of relieved when I was let out in a garage and bundled into a concrete corridor. I was naked, again, with bleeding wounds and bruised and cramped from hours in a metal box being bounced around, so I hardly took in the welcoming speech given by a really thin man with lots of rings and chains. It was the usual thing though I'm sure - do as you are told and don't run away or else. I was locked up in solitary then for a couple of weeks while everything healed. I only saw the doctor who examined me every day and a girl who brought me food. Her name was Anya. She died of a drugs overdose in New York.
They taught me to dance, and strip, and lap-dance. And of course I did 'special' shows, and 'special private dances'. I was Emo Girl in torn stripy tights and with my hair dyed blue.
I think I was a disappointment to the management.
The men liked my stage dancing, and the sex shows, but after the first couple of weeks it was clear that few wanted lap dances or private sessions. Most men just don't like a girl with that much metal.
Some men do. Jimmy Razors did. He was the dealer that supplied the Dirty Dolls club with drugs. He took a shine to me. He was in The Circle, so he bought me.
He had an apartment in New York, which was a nice place, but he had some really nasty visitors. He was no saint either. Jimmy thought it was fun to pick up homeless girls at the train station. Runaways and dreamer kids who had come to the big city and after a few days with no money, food or friends would be easy prey. He would take them home and drug them, have his way with them and let his friends gang bang them. He would only keep a girl for a couple of days, constantly stoned, then throw her out naked at night in one of the rough neighbourhoods. The girls never came back to accuse him.
In between times he had me. And so did his friends. He had a pole in the apartment and I had to dance for them. They would also have me do lap dances, but they always ended up as 'specials' - hand jobs and blow jobs, and they could grope what they wanted. If they wanted to fuck me they had to pay.
Then one night he took me to a party. That was unusual - I was never allowed out of the apartment. He had me in Emo gear again, with a dog collar and lead. It was a loft apartment, like the one The Boss took me to the night he had me gang banged and sold to Hollywood Joe. It might even have been the same place. There were loads of people there with their 'pets'. Most in full rubber or leather gear, some simply naked. It was a weird scene. People played party games, or made their slaves play. They had races for pets with their legs bound, or on all fours. They had rubber rings that fit over erect penises which girls had to transfer with their teeth to other men. They had inflatable swimming pools ten feet across for water sports and scat. I was glad my master was not into that.