THE STARLET SLAVE joypaine Foreword. With one exception, the characters in this story have no intentional resemblance to anyone living or dead. The one exception is that I like to imagine myself in one of the roles. I'm not going to tell you which one -- after all, your tastes may be different. I posted this story some time ago, under the cybernym joypaine.
========================================== THE STARLET SLAVE 1 joypaine 1. The Escape Thank God, Ellen thought. Finally, things may be going my way for a change. Who would have expected to find a police cruiser in this remote corner of Beverly Hills at this time of night? Or any car at all, for that matter? And believe me, she thought, I'd be glad to take my chances with a stranger -- any stranger at all -- rather than to depend on the mercy of that leering pack of rapists back there. She was acutely aware of the bizarre figure she must present, hair awry and flying in the wind, halter and mini-skirt torn from that frantic escape down the trellis. Heedless of personal safety, she hurled herself into the path of the patrol car, flagged it to a screeching halt. The lone officer got out warily, pistol drawn. "OK, miss," he barked. "Both hands on the car, and spread your legs." Ellen debated for a moment whether to try to talk him out of frisking her. What the Hell, she thought. She could hardly blame him. She must look like a fugitive from the funny farm, or worse. And it would probably take longer to argue him out of it than it would to make the search. If only he wouldn't take so much time about it. "Please make it quick," she begged. "They can't be far behind." Well, maybe he wasn't quick, but he was pretty goddamned thorough. When Ellen commented acidly on the great time he must be having, the cop grinned. "Just following regulations, lady," he answered. "You'd be surprised at where some broads will stash a gun or a knife. And you must admit that I have some grounds for suspicion, the way you look. "Of course, if I had known that you weren't wearing a bra or panties . . . well, anyway, I know now," he finished happily. "OK now -- what brings you out here this time of night, looking like this?" Ellen tried to impress the officer with the urgency of the situation. "Please," she breathed desperately, "help me to get out of here. I'm being chased by a pack of wolves." The officer chuckled. "Look, lady, the only kind of wolf this side of the zoo is the two-legged variety." "That's the kind I mean," Ellen all but screamed. "I'm sure that they've missed me by now. Please -- just take me anywhere -- get me out of here!" Her voice, rising in panic, finally stirred the policemen to action. "OK, lady, I'll go along for the ride. Or maybe I should say that you can come along for the ride. I guess I can risk enough of the taxpayers' money to take you downtown, at least. "But if this is a trick . . ." He let the sentence hang ominously. "OK, climb in the back." "In the back?" Ellen's dismay showed in her voice. "Why can't I ride in front with you, instead of like a prisoner? After all, you frisked me, and you know that I can't hurt you" "Regulations, lady," he explained. "And not so stupid, either. How do I know you don't have a weapon up your snatch? Or that you won't grab the steering wheel when we get into traffic? No, doll -- if you're going to ride with me, you're going to sit in the back behind the screen, so I know that I'll be safe." Ellen could see that she wouldn't be able to change his mind. And she was just wasting precious time by arguing. She climbed into the back seat, heard him close the self-locking door behind her. At least those drooling rapists couldn't get her now. But she still held her breath until the car put precious miles behind them, finally pulled to the curb in a well-lighted part of town. "OK, honey," the officer turned around. "Let's hear your story." Ellen's words tumbled all over each other. "This -- this pack of men. I was going to be their sport for the night. They were going to -- to sodomize me." "Hold it!" the policeman interrupted. "You're talking too fast. And hysterically. You've got to calm down, talk rationally enough so I can decide whether to take you into custody as a mental case, or accept your story and start a wolf hunt. "Suppose you back up a bit. Tell me how you got into this situation in the first place. Here . . ." He drew a tape recorder from the glove compartment, held the microphone up to the screen, near Ellen's lips. Suppose you take it from the top." Ellen drew a deep breath, forced herself to relax.
========================================================= THE STARLET SLAVE 2 joypaine 2. The Fraternity Party It all started (she began) that night in the fraternity house. I was going with Jeff then, and things were pretty close between us. All right, so I was living with him. What the Hell, all the girls in college were doing it. I'd lost it in high school, anyway. Jeff was pretty demanding. He said that he wasn't going to let me ride on his coattails around the college social circles unless I put out for him regularly. So living with him seemed the easiest way. It wasn't much fun with Jeff, though. He didn't give a damn about a girl's needs -- all he wanted was to get his gun and then roll over and go to sleep. But on the other hand, he wasn't kinky, either. Oh, he used to grab my tits once in a while, and pretend to squeeze them, but never to the point where it hurt very much. And you can be sure that I didn't give him any encouragement in that direction. All in all, I considered myself pretty lucky. After all, some of the girls were little more than slaves to their boy friends. And some of the boys used to make their girls do things like sit with their hands folded in their laps while the boy friend pinched their tits -- hard -- in public. Just as a sign of obedience. Well, there was this fraternity party to honor Larry, one of their big shot alumni. Spell that "big shit" in view of later developments. Anyway, Larry was a talent scout for some Hollywood movie company, and you can just bet that all the girls were drooling over him. He was a real smooth article -- he would have gotten the girls' attention even without the Hollywood connection. As it was . . . You know how college girls feel about the chance of getting into the movies. No matter what the price, or how slim the chance. Well, they were telling the story around of how Larry had "discovered" a girl waiting on table in some hick town, and talked her into leaving with him for Hollywood that very night. And she had become a big star within six months. Of course, she'd had to sleep with Larry, and with who knows who else, but what the Hell. That's the way things are done. Everybody knows that. And it wouldn't be all that bad sleeping with Larry. As to the who knows who else, who knows? Well, Jeff started kidding me about maybe that would happen to me, and asked me to promise that if I had any luck like that, I'd give him one last lay before I went, for old times' sake. Well, what the Hell, I can go along with a gag. It wasn't going to happen to me, for sure. And after all, I was putting out for him every night, anyway, so why the Hell not? So believe it or not, Larry did take a shine to me, and finally asked if I wouldn't want to go back to Hollywood with him. Boy, would I ever! I told him there wasn't anything on earth I wouldn't do for a chance like that, and he said OK let's go. By then, I began to think he was maybe serious. So he said I realized, of course, that I'd have to be his mistress for a while (such a cute romantic word for it) and then sleep around in the proper Hollywood circles. And I said sure, I was grown up and knew the score. So he asked if I was ready to go tonight, and I said yeah, not sure whether he was kidding or not. And then came the howler. He said that he had made sure that the fraternity "cunt room" wasn't in use at the moment, and why didn't we go up and seal the bargain with a kiss, so to speak? Well, I still didn't know but maybe it was all a trick to get into my pants, but Larry was a pretty smooth article, and I was a bit drunk, and what the Hell? There was even a chance, I told myself, that Larry would be a better lover than Jeff. What a dreamer! If anything, he was even more perfunctory. He made me suck him up a little before he started, and then it was just WHAM! BAM! Thank you, ma'am. After he finished, he said why didn't I use the en suite bathroom of the "cunt room", and he'd take his clothes down the hall to the bathroom there. So I was just lying there trying to get over the frustration of being left up in the air, and wondering whether maybe I should try to cool myself down with a finger fuck, when Jeff walked into the room! I assumed that he had seen me and Larry head for the "cunt room", and had just waited for us to finish. After all, he would have known we were through when Larry walked out with his clothes over his arm. Well, Jeff reminded me of my promise to give him one last fuck, and handed me a douche bag, all loaded and ready to go. Talk about taking a girl for granted! I should have thrown it in his face, but what the Hell. After all, I had promised, whether I had meant it or not. And I was feeling pretty horny after Larry-the-rabbit's performance and -- well, what the Hell. I found out -- afterwards -- that the "cunt room" was fitted out with all sorts of television cameras, and that the whole gang -- boys and girls -- had been sitting at the TV in the rec room watching me entertain Larry and Jeff. And making video tapes of the performance. Like I say, I learned this afterwards. At the time, it seemed like a rare coincidence that the four guys walked into the room just after Jeff had shot his load. Not too soon to spoil Jeff's fun, but while his body was still pinning me to the bed. And they knew just what they were going to do. Probably they had rehearsed it all before, with other girls. The four guys just grabbed my arms and legs and held me there, while Jeff grinned and wrapped his big hands around my tits and squeezed, hard enough to hurt. And then he made me an offer I would have been delighted to refuse. Since it was my last night in town, he said, didn't I think it would be a nice gesture if I were to put out for these fine loyal fraternity brothers of his, who had waited so patiently for this moment. Well, I wasn't really feeling that generous. The effects of the alcohol had pretty much worn off by that time, whether it was from the exercise, or the passing of time, or the pain, or just the grossness of Jeff's suggestion. No more what the Hell. I told Jeff in no uncertain terms what he could do with his proposition. And then I spat in his face.
====================================================== THE STARLET SLAVE 3 joypaine 3. The Party Gets Rough There's an old African proverb that says that you should never slap a woman's face while she has your prick in her mouth. Well, the same thing goes if a guy is squeezing your tits. Jeff muttered that he could see that I needed a lesson in obedience. And then he started squeezing for real. One of the fellows holding my arms held a pillow over my mouth to stifle my screams. And you can bet that I did scream. By the time that bastard had squeezed my knockers for a couple of seconds, I was ready to do anything he wanted. Anything at all. But he didn't give me a chance say so, of course. He was was having too goddamn much fun. He kept up the pressure until I was sure I was going to faint, and then he let up for a moment. But just for a moment. And then he set up a sort of rhythm -- squeeze and relax and squeeze again -- that hurt even worse. And he was getting a real kick out of it. I could feel his prick getting hard inside me. And then he kept up that damned rhythmic squeezing until my squirming made him come. Then he started whispering in my ear, just lying there inside me, punctuating his words with more of those damned squeezes. He told me I could nod if I agreed with him. And believe me, I nodded pretty damned enthusiastically. No more of that squeezing for me, thank you. Jeff told me that I was going to put out for all the boys -- not just the four that were holding me down, but a real gang bang. But that wasn't all. After the guys had finished with me, he pointed out, they wouldn't have much strength left to satisfy their dates. So didn't I think it was only fair that I should French the girls as well? Fair? Shit, it was about the foulest thing that I could imagine, especially since I knew that they'd be taking pictures of the whole orgy, and who knows where they'd be showing the pictures around afterwards. But I wasn't in any position to protest in the slightest. I just nodded my head as if he were inviting me to the prom. When Jeff had finally finished with the lesson, the four guys holding me marched me into the bathroom. One of them held my arms behind my back, and two of the others pried my legs apart, pinching my clit when I resisted. And the fourth did the honors with the douche bag. Then back to bed. I got to know that path between the cunt room and the bathroom pretty damned well over the next couple of hours. I'm sure that every guy in the house fucked me at least once, and I counted at least three that came back for seconds. More of them probably, but I lost count. Like the guy says, they all look alike in bed. And Jeff wasn't kidding abut the girls, either. They didn't all want to be Frenched, but they were all delighted to watch, and four of them had me eat them, while a couple of the guys paddled me, and did other cute little things, like sticking their fingers into my cunt and asshole. Thank God they didn't fuck my butt, though. I know that I would have just died if they had.
===================================================================== THE STARLET SLAVE 4 joypaine 4. The Grand Finale Finally (Ellen continued) the guys started talking about what they could do for a "grand finale". Some of their suggestions were pretty far out, and I couldn't tell whether the guys were seriously considering them, or whether they were just trotting the ideas out for the thrill of talking about them. I'm sure that those bastards suggested some of the more revolting ideas just to get a rise out of me. At least, I hope so. And believe me, if that's what they meant to do, it worked. With the guys as drunk as they were, and after the sadistic things they had dome while they raped me, I wouldn't have been surprised if they had gone ahead with even the kinkiest of ideas. Cute little tricks, like hanging me up by the tits, or sticking them full of pins. One guy even suggested cutting off my nipples, to add to their "trophy collection". Well, they finally decided that it was my turn to have a little "fun". Since I had so kindly serviced the girls, they pointed out, it was only fair that one of the girls should do me. On camera, of course. Well, the girl they nominated for the job didn't like the idea any better than I did. Especially the part about the camera. But they knew how to take care of a little detail like a girl's reluctance. She was already naked -- she had stripped for her part in the girl-and-girl orgy that they had made me go through. So the guys brought out a cute little pair of clamps that they fastened on the poor girl's tits, and buckled them on with a set of straps. Just like a brassiere. And then they showed me how I could increase the pressure whenever I wanted to, by pulling on a pair of straps. Like I said, I didn't want to do it. But the boys brought out another pair of clamps to put on me if I didn't join in the fun. It would spoil the plot of the movie, they admitted, but they could still make a pretty good show out of it. Maybe they could shoot the original script later, after I had learned the value of obedience. And maybe they could stage a contest, to see which of us could stand the most pain before blacking out. Well, I could tell by the way the poor little bitch was screaming that it was hurting her badly -- probably much worse than Jeff's squeezing had been. And believe me, I didn't want to invite that. And she was one of those smart asses that had let me eat her pussy, so it would be only fair that she should get some of her own medicine, I figured. I guess that I was a little brutal, too, pulling on those straps even when she was doing her damnedest. But I kept thinking of all the pain and humiliation those bastards had caused me, and took it out on the poor kid that was servicing me. I should have known better, of course. In the first place, there wasn't a chance in Hell that I could enjoy sex in that frame of mind, even though I'd often dreamed how great it would be to have somebody tonguing out my pussy. And it only made things worse when the guys decided it was her turn again. Yeah, I should have known. That bunch of sadists had stuck in that little interlude just to make her mad at me, so she'd be even more creative when they turned her loose on me. And just to make doubly sure, they left the clamps on her tits, and now and then one of the boys would give a little tug, just to inspire her to be more enthusiastic. And she did herself proud. They didn't let her cut off my nipples, or hang me all the way up by my tits, but they did help her to put the other set of bra-clamps on me. And then she hoisted me up so I was standing on tippy-toe, and tied those damned straps to a ring in the ceiling, so if I leaned back to rest my legs a bit, or if I swayed a little, or even took a deep breath, the pain in my tits was excruciating. And they had all sorts of little tricks, like: can you imagine how a sneeze would feel to someone trussed up the way I was? And did you ever try to stifle a sneeze while some bastard tickled your nose with a feather? And then they brought out a little tray of pins, all nicely soaked in alcohol, to prevent infection. Yeah, they were very careful about infection. They even made her swab off my tits and cunt before she stuck the pins in.
=============================================================== THE STARLET SLAVE 5 joypaine 5. Caught! "Hold on a minute," the cop interrupted. "You say that you weren't a virgin when you entered college?" Ellen nodded, a bit embarrassed at being cross-examined on so intimate a subject. "So tell me how you got started into sex", he went on. Ellen actually blushed -- something that she hadn't done for a long time. "It's a long story, and not exactly a pretty one. I don't think that it really needs telling now." "After all," the cop protested, "if I'm going to help you, I should know the whole background of the matter. But if you don't want to co-operate, I can take you back to where I found you. Maybe we can even find the place you ran away from." "No -- please don't," Ellen protested. What the Hell, she decided. I do owe the guy something. And I may want him to do a lot more for me. Starting right now, by giving me his protection. And there's absolutely nowhere else that I can go in this crummy town. Yeah, she thought. Better to have him on my side. She moved up to the microphone again. Well, (she began) it started with that horrible Mr. Peck, the town jeweler. We girls used to joke among ourselves about what a Dirty Old Man he was -- how he was always staring at the girls' tits. Especially the girls that were built like me -- although there weren't very many of us that were, come to think of it. Some of the girls said that he used to try to cop a feel now and then, although I never let him get near enough to try it with me. But the way he kept staring right through my blouse was just about as bad. A lot of the kids used to call him "Old Pecker", or even "Peckerhead", but I never used language like that in those days. Well, some of my girlfriends told me once about the "get Peck" club that they had organized, and I thought it was a great idea. Until they told me about the entrance requirements for the club, that is. The trick was to rip off a piece of jewelry from his store, and wear it to club meetings as a sort of membership badge. It didn't have to be expensive, or anything, just as long as it was stolen from Peck's store. Now I come from a pretty straight-laced family, and the idea of stealing didn't appeal to me -- even from a toad like Peck. So the girls started teasing me. I didn't care so much about the ethics of the situation, they insisted -- I was just chicken. And in my heart, I knew they were right. And I told myself it's just like the Bible says -- if you sin in your heart, it's just as bad as if you really did it. When the girls saw that I was weakening, they took another approach. After all, they teased, if I was really chicken, I could probably get Old Pecker to give me a piece of jewelry if I let him feel me up. A piece for a piece, sort of. We giggled a bit at that, and one of them suggested that even if I did get caught, I could always buy him off by putting out for him. I didn't think that was so funny -- even the slightest suggestion of being at the mercy of a monster like him sent chills up my spine. But then the girls started joking about how useless he probably was in bed, and the giggles took over again. Anyway, I finally agreed to give it a whirl. The girls all told about the various techniques they had used to rip off their pieces of jewelry, and we worked out a plan that we thought combined the best features of all of them. And as the day for the Dirty Deed approached, I got to feeling really adventurous -- I just couldn't wait to try out my "foolproof" system. Here's the way we worked the scam: we all went into the shop together, and asked Peck to show us an assortment of cheap pins. And then the other girls would get Peck to go down to the other end of the shop, where they would keep him busy (maybe even by rubbing up against him, one of them suggested) while I pinned one of the brooches to the inside of my sweater, where it wouldn't show. Then I would rearrange the ones that were left on the tray, so he wouldn't notice that one of them was missing. Meanwhile, the girls would give a signal if Peck happened to turn his attention in my direction. And when everything was ready, I was going to join the other girls, tell Peck thanks but I didn't see anything I wanted, and we'd all walk out together. And in my mental rehearsals, I could even picture myself twitching my ass triumphantly as I walked away. I knew that Peck would be watching. And everything worked perfectly, down to the moment when I walked back to the end of the shop where the other girls had steered Peck. And then I knew that something had gone wrong. The other girls were gone! And Peck was leering at me, as if he knew some dirty secret. And then I saw it. On the counter behind Peck was a TV monitor, showing the exact area of the store where I had just been. And the tray of pins was still in the picture, just where I had left it. Peck licked his lips, and gave a nervous little giggle. "I've been having trouble with shoplifters," he smirked, "so I had this little detector installed. And it looks as if I caught one. I've got it all on videotape, too, so I have a permanent record of your little escapade." His hand went to my sweater, where I had hidden the pin -- and I knew that it was no accident that his fingers brushed my nipple. "Maybe you'd like to step into my office and talk about it?" he said in a voice that fairly dripped with oil. "Or should we call the police right away?" He had me, and we both knew it. Shit, I didn't want to go to jail. I burst out crying. "I take it that this means you'd rather explore ways that we can keep the authorities out of it?" I nodded desperately. "OK", he crooned, "I'll put up the OUT TO LUNCH sign, and we can go into my private office and talk it over."
THE STARLET SLAVE 6 joypaine 6. The Examination Peck felt my tits again as soon as he got me into his office -- both hands, this time -- and then he told me to sit down. His voice really oozed as he pointed out that he didn't want to ruin my life by turning me in to the police -- a stigma like that could follow me to my grave, and he didn't want to bear the responsibility of destroying a fragile flower like me. And just think what the shock would do to my mother. She had suffered a severe heart attack last year when Dad was killed in that traffic accident, and a blow like this might finish her off for good. But, he went on, he couldn't let me off without any punishment at all -- that would be bad for my character -- and disastrous for his business if word got around. And he went on to tell me how hard it was to get the right kind of help these days, and maybe I'd be willing to work for him as a sort of penance? I assumed that he wanted me to work in the store -- shows how naive I was in those days. Well, the idea of being cooped up in the store, with his eyes -- and hands, I was sure -- all over me just about turned my stomach, but I would have agreed to just about anything to keep him from calling the cops. So he said OK, it was all agreed, but he'd have to have some kind of guarantee that I would keep my word. So would I sign this confession, like a good girl? It didn't occur to me at the time how fishy it all was -- his having the confession all ready and typed up and all -- but it wouldn't have made much difference to me if it had. I would have signed anything to get the Hell out of there and get a breath of fresh air. So I signed the damned thing without even reading it. That was my second mistake. And then he said would I please give him back the jewelry I had stolen? I started to unpin the brooch, and he interrupted me. Not that cheap stuff, he sneered -- he meant the really valuable stuff that was listed in the confession. As well as the other stuff that I had stolen from him over the past few weeks -- also listed in the confession. That's when I really started to panic. I wept and I begged and I sobbed that I hadn't taken anything else, and that I knew what he was trying to do, and he didn't answer, but just sat there and grinned at my tits the whole goddamned time. Finally, I ran down, and he started talking again. He didn't bother to deny my accusations -- Hell, we both knew better than that. And he said that the only way to prove that I was telling the truth was for him to search me. He wrapped his mouth around the word like a kid with a stick of candy. Now, if I wanted to go by the book, he went on, he could take me down to headquarters and have a police matron search me. But he assumed that I still wanted to avoid involving the police. So that left us with two alternatives. Either he could frisk me --and very thoroughly, he assured me, or I could hand him my clothes, one garment at a time, so he could check whether I had anything hidden in them. And he meant all of my clothes, he reminded me -- every last stitch. Well, he had me good. If I didn't want to call in the police -- and I didn't -- I had two choices. Either I stripped right down to the buff for him, or I let him have the feel of his life. I decided that being felt up would be even worse than stripping, so I started unbuttoning my blouse. He didn't even go through the motions of searching it. he just folded it and laid it on the desk, and waited for my skirt. And then he called for my bra. . . Believe me, that's when a girl really feels lonely -- when she's locked up with a dirty old man who's telling her to take off her bra, and she doesn't have any say in the matter. My fingers were shaking so I could hardly get the hooks undone, but I finally managed to work them free. It was a moment of sheer despair when the bra came away from my body and I felt the cold air on my tits. I held the bra in front of me for one desperate moment, while I wished the earth would open up and swallow me, and then I let it drop. Then I held my hands cupped over my tits as long as I dared, while I could feel his eyes boring through my fingers. He didn't try to rush me. The bastard was enjoying my embarrassment even more than the sight of my body. Finally, I realized that my modesty was just turning him on, and I forced my hands down to my sides, and let him look to his heart's content. And did he ever look! I was hoping that he would have a heart attack or something, but he didn't, of course. For some reason, it was easier to take my panties off than my bra had been. Maybe because the ice had already been broken, so to speak, maybe because he was so obviously a tit man, or -- who knows why? So there I stood, stark naked except for my sandals and my bracelet, while he enjoyed what may have been the best free show that he had seen in years. And then he started talking abut his "stolen jewelry" again, and allowed as how I must have hidden it in my asshole or my twat. Boy, did it ever get gross then! He made me spread my legs, and then he grinned at me while I had to spread my ass cheeks for him, and then my cunt lips. And then he had to feel for himself, of course. I was scared to death that he was going to ram his finger into me and break my cherry, but he just joked a little and made some vulgar comment like who was I saving it for. And he had a good time feeling of everything else while he was about it. He squeezed my tits again, too, but this time he really put his heart into it -- maybe because they were bare -- and I damn near fainted from the pain. Like I said, he was a real tit man.
======================================================= THE STARLET SLAVE 7 joypaine 7. Spanked I had been right abut one thing -- being felt up was even worse than the stripping had been. I just hadn't realized that the bastard was going to manage to get both. And then came the real eye-opener. Peck said, "OK, girls", and my three friends -- the ones who had talked me into this scrape -- walked into the room. Make that my three ex-friends. I realized then that the whole scam had been a put-up job, right from the top -- the whole schtick about the club had been a con just to trap me. And boy, had it ever worked! Well, it turned out that the girls had not only been watching the whole thing through a two-way mirror, but they had also been taking pictures of my whole ordeal. Video tape, too. And then they played the tape for my "entertainment" while I crouched in the corner, trying to cover myself with my hands.. Without the sound, and if you didn't know how Peck worked, it looked as if I was willingly stripping for him, and letting him feel me up and finger-fuck me, just for kicks. For his kicks, sure, but it looked as if I also had been enjoying it. My hesitation could have been coyness, and the blush in my cheeks -- sure, it could have been embarrassment, but it could also have been from sexual excitement. It was even more embarrassing, if that was possible, to watch the replay than it had been when I was actually stripping for the old goat. And the fact that I now knew that my "friends" were watching didn't make it any easier, of course. Like the true sadist that he was, Peck was paying more attention to my reactions than he was to the show. He cheered as each new goody came into view, making vulgar (but enthusiastic) comments about my anatomy, and speculating out loud on what my state of mind must have been at each new development. "And now for sure we don't have to worry about you going to the police," he gloated. "Not only do we have the shoplifting charge to hold over you, but these pictures show pretty well that you are trying to seduce me, and the authorities would feel that any complaint you might make would obviously be only an attempt at blackmail. "Plus which, I don't thank that you'd be anxious to have these pictures shown around town. Especially to your mother. In fact, I'm going to bet that these pictures will be enough incentive to keep you working for me, even though you might not be satisfied with the pay. Or the working conditions, either," he added slyly. "At least, pictures like these have been ample incentive for your three friends here." So now I knew. They were being blackmailed, too. I felt a little more forgiving toward them, now that I knew that they hadn't screwed me just for the Hell of it. Or for money. "And now," Peck said to the girls, "I think our little Ellen needs a bit of a spanking, to punish her for her misdeeds -- and to cure her of any rebellious thoughts. OK, girls, lend a hand. You know the routine." I fought like a wildcat, and I succeeded in making some ugly scratches on Rosie's arm, but I was no match for the three of them. Bit by bit, they managed to buckle a pair of straps on my wrists -- broad leather straps, lined with lamb's wool, so they wouldn't leave any marks, no matter how much I struggled. And I did struggle, believe you me! They stretched me across a sturdy wooden bench that was standing in the middle of the room -- a bench that apparently had been designed for just this purpose. Lying flat on my belly, I could just barely reach the floor with my toes. They fastened my wrist straps to a pair of rings at the side of the bench, with my arms stretched out over my head. Another pair of straps fastened my ankles to the legs of the bench. So there I was, legs spread to show everything I had, and my bare ass waving in the air. "Better put some antiseptic on those scratches, Rosie" Peck said. "And the rest of you fix the little minx so she won't scratch anyone else." It was no trick at all for the girls to clip my fingernails right down to the quick. Not too elegant a manicure, but pretty damned effective, as far as making my nails useless for defense. Then the old bastard walked around in front of me, so I could see what he was doing. And so he could watch the expression on my face as I realized what he had planned for me. Slowly, deliberately, he took off his belt. "Maybe this will teach you the error of your ways," he hissed. I lost track of how many times he brought that belt down across my naked ass -- I was too busy begging him to stop. I knew that it was going to be a long time before I wanted to sit down again.
========================================================== THE STARLET SLAVE 8 joypaine 8. A Plucked Duck Finally, he stopped and came around to my face again. "How about it, My Lovely?" he taunted. "Have you learned the value of good behavior yet?" My Lovely! How corny can you get? You could practically hear the audience booing and hissing while he twirled his mustache. But I wasn't about to press the point just then. I nodded a yes to his question, not trusting my voice after all that screaming. "The perhaps you'll kiss this nice old belt that whipped you?" Shit! That was asking too much, and I told him so. In rather indelicate terms, I'm afraid. I was just starting to tell him where he could stuff that nice old belt, when he nodded to the girls. "It appears that our little pigeon hasn't completely learned the value of obedience yet." He sounded happy about it. "I guess that you'd better turn her over, ladies." It was no trick at all for the three of them to unfasten the straps holding me to the bench, flip me over, and spread-eagle me again, this time with my cunt where my ass had been. And that point wasn't lost on me when I saw him start hauling the belt back over his shoulder for another stroke, I began to beg, and to promise that I would do anything -- anything he wanted. But he just chuckled and ticked my cunt with his finger. "Later on," he taunted. "Later on, you'll have lots of chances to do what I want. But for the moment . . ." He grunted with pleasure as he brought that belt down with all his strength, squarely between my outstretched thighs. I never knew that anything could hurt as much as that whipping hurt my cunt. Long before he had finished, I was ready to kiss that nice old belt, and to do anything else he wanted. And I told him so, again and again, between my sobs and screams. "That's really sweet of you, My Lovely," he crooned. "And, as I told you, I'll give you a lot of things to do for me. But first, there is one more delight for you to savor." Like I said, he was a tit man. He brought that belt down just one more time, and this time the agony in my cunt was nothing compared with the excruciating pain of that single blow. I think that I actually fainted for a moment. He waited until my head cleared a bit -- after all, he didn't want me to miss a moment of the "fun" -- and then he dropped that nice old belt to the floor, and started to drop his pants after it. I really got the picture then -- although, to be honest, I had suspected from the first moment he had tied me down that he was going to rape me before he was through. Cherry and all. And I didn't have any fight left in me. Even if I had not been immobilized and helpless, I wouldn't have been able to put up any effective resistance, after the brutalizing pain he had just put me through. And he knew that, too. I was a plucked duck, and he knew it.
======================================================= THE STARLET SLAVE 9 joypaine 9. Defloration The girls knew the routine -- they had been through it before, maybe many times. Without waiting for instructions, they unfastened my wrists, and moved the straps to my upper arms -- near the elbows -- and then proceeded to fasten them to the table, near my waist. So I could move my forearms, but not enough to defend myself, or anything. And I couldn't sit up, of course. My legs were still spread way apart, with my ass practically hanging over the edge of the table. And then Peck, who was completely naked by now, told me why they'd changed the straps on my arms. "I want you to rub your fingertips over my nipples while I fuck you," he rasped. "And here's why you're going to do it for me." His huge hands closed once more on my tits, which were still throbbing from the blow with the belt. He didn't have to squeeze hard at all. I agreed with him -- I wanted to co-operate. Meanwhile, one of the girls was spreading a lubricating jelly on the lips of my cunt, and working it inside, taking great pains not to break my cherry. Woe unto the careless slave girl whose errant fingers deprive the Great Man of his moment of glory! Peck took a fresh grip on my tits, and stepped between my thighs. He let go of my tits for a moment, so he could use his hands to spread my cunt lips and start his prick in the door, and then he teased me for a couple of beats, pushing gently on my cherry until he got the feel of it. After all, he probably didn't bust a virgin every day. And then he grabbed my tits again, and I knew that it was good-bye cherry time. Giving my tits one last vicious squeeze, he rammed right in. He was unnecessarily rough about it, of course. As I well knew by now, he was enjoying my pain and humiliation more than the fuck itself. And the fact that I was -- or rather, had been -- a virgin made it all the sweeter. He knew that he was destroying the dreams of my whole life. After a few strokes, he stopped, leaving it buried to the hilt, while he reminded me of what I should be doing with my fingertips. And why I wanted to do it for him. It didn't take many squeezes for me to get the message, and I gave him what might have been the best screw of his life. He thanked me when he had finished, with ironic politeness, and "promised" that I would be his best girl for the next few weeks. Thanks a bunch! I thought. "So", he went on, "you'll be all the more eager to help your little friends recruit more cunt for the club, to take my mind off you. Or maybe I should say to take my hands off you?" he laughed. Yeah, I could understand why my "friends" had been willing to trap me. Understanding doesn't always mean forgiving, though. I hated their guts, and promised myself that I would never give up until I found some way to get even with them. Peck knew what I was thinking, of course. And he knew that it was in his interest to keep us all hating one another, so we wouldn't gang up and find some way to break his hold on us. Divide and rule, as they say. And then he told Rosie to "do the honors".
=============================================================== THE STARLET SLAVE 10 joypaine 10. The Persuader I'll give Rosie one thing -- she wasn't getting any pleasure from my troubles. But that didn't stop her from obeying old Peck. She went meekly over to a cabinet on the other side of the room, and brought back what I was going to come to know as the "Persuader". To come to know it all too well. It was an ugly thing -- it looked just like a man's prick, although it was a bit smaller than the tool that Peck had just stuck through my cherry. And it didn't take a great stretch of imagination to figure what Rosie was going to do with it. And I couldn't do anything to stop her, strapped as I was to the table. All I could do was squirm and moan as she stuck the goddamned thing into me. All the way in, so that my cunt lips closed over it, and it just disappeared. And then they untied me. My first thought was to get that fucking dildo out of my cunt. Not that it hurt, but the idea of carrying anything around in there was nauseating. So I reached in to pull it out. Never mind that they were all watching, like a flock of vultures. After all, they'd seen everything that I had. Nothing like a spot of rape to break down the walls of modesty. So I reached in, and got hold of the sides of it, and gave a tug. And screamed, and almost flew through the ceiling with the pain. The damned thing seemed to come alive, and start chewing on the walls of my cunt, hurting as if they were on fire. Old Peck laughed uproariously. It was great fun -- just like pulling the wings off flies. "Just a mild electric shock, my dear", he teased. "Just enough to discourage you from pulling it out. You see, it's very important for you to keep it in place, because your behavior is going to be influenced very strongly by that little gem. Here, let me show you." He held up the control box for me to see. "Works by radio," he explained. "Now watch what happens when I press this switch." I watched, and -- ZAP!! The shock was even worse this time. Peck gave one of those sadistic chuckles of his. "As I said, a mild electric shock. We can increase the intensity, if necessary -- bit by bit -- until you think it's burning a hole right through your little twat. It's set at about 30 percent now. Would you like to see what it feels like when we step up the power a little?" I screamed and pleaded and promised again that I would do whatever he wanted, only please don't turn the fucking thing on again. "Fine, my Lovely," he said."If you can remember that promise, you can save yourself a great deal of pain. And we'll give you a chance to show us the sincerity of your promise -- there are a lot of things we want you to do this afternoon. And later on." And then he handed the control box to Rosie, and told her to take me to the bathroom and "get the dirty part over with". Well it turned out that the "dirty part" that they had planned for me was an enema! Hell, this wouldn't be the first time that I had ever had an enema, but I was deathly afraid that this one meant that Peck was going to fuck me in the ass next. And that was the one thing in life that I wouldn't be able to take. Worse than the loss of my cherry, in fact -- far worse. I remember the first time that I learned that people did things like that, and I had nightmares ever since when I thought about it. And now it was going to happen to me . . . Well, Rosie didn't give me any time to think about it. The pain from that damned Persuader was strong enough to overcome even the pathological repugnance I felt at having things stuck up my ass. And anyway, Rosie wasn't equipped to fuck me there, of course. After she had finished, Rosie pointed out that I wouldn't have to worry about shitting my pants for a couple of days, and sure enough, she started putting some of that lubricating jelly into my asshole. Well, this is it, I figured. But then she took another Persuader, very much like the one in my cunt, only smaller, and started to stick it up my ass. "This'll let the old goat release your twat for active duty," she explained. I felt pretty nauseated at having that goddmned thing poked into me there, and I knew damned well what it would feel like when Peck turned on the current, but what the Hell -- it was a thousand times better than being fucked there. And I figured they wouldn't be doing that as long as the Persuader was in place. I was glad that they had given me the enema, though. That fucking dildo in my ass made me feel all the time as if I wanted to shit.
THE STARLET SLAVE 11
joypaine
11. Getting Ready
When that damned thing was secure in my asshole, Rosie marched me back to the
office, where Peck took the other Persuader out of my cunt. Apparently, there
was some trick to it, because he got it out without having it shock me even the
least bit. And then, of course, he had to "test my response" to the shocker in
my ass. (He couldn't pass up an opportunity like that.) Believe me, it hurt
just as much as the other one had. And of course he pinched my tits a couple of
times. That bastard wouldn't have been able to keep his hands off a pair of
naked tits, even if the building had been on fire. Especially a pair like mine.
Then he made me pose in a lot of pornographic positions, while he took pictures
("for your portfolio", he said). His last pose had me sitting on the sofa with
my legs drawn up underneath me, a lascivious smile on my face, and my hands
cupping my tits, as if I were offering them to my viewers.
"That's the stuff," Peck enthused. "Just make sure that you give your brightest
and most convincing smile. That's the way you're going to greet all your
customers."
My heart sank. "Customers", in a pose like that could mean only one thing -- he
was going to peddle my ass. (Paddle it too, no doubt.) I should have known from
the beginning that this set-up was too elaborate just to get himself a quick
lay. But that's the way Peck operated, I learned -- push a girl step by step
into the depths of depravity, without giving her any hint of where she was
headed, so that each outrage had the full force of novelty.
And just to make sure that I got the picture, Peck laid it out in detail.
"Baby," he told me, "that cunt of yours is going to make us rich. Well, me,
anyway. Your profit will come as the richness of experience.
"Your friends here have done pretty well, but a bod like yours will draw the
boys like flies. Just as soon as the word gets around.
"So let's start spreading the word, before you lose any momentum.
"Sheila," he turned to one of the other girls. "Ferdy is a special friend of
yours. Suppose you go over to the garage and tell him that little Ellen is
ready for him."
Sheila made a little face of disgust, a gesture that was not lost on Peck. "And
remember," he taunted her, "it's Ellen that he's paying for this time, not you.
If he wants to feel you up, that's OK. But make sure that he keeps his pecker
in his pants -- or out of yours, anyway." He laughed uproariously at his own
joke. "I don't want you beating Ellen's time, no matter how much you care for
the big lug."
He was kidding, of course. Nobody cared for Ferd the Nerd, as we called him.
Behind his back, of course -- you didn't insult Ferdy to his face.
Pimply face, dirty hands, dirty talk -- Ferd the Nerd was the guy every girl
dreams of having a love affair with -- in her worst nightmares, that is. He was
the kind of guy that you didn't notice his bad breath so much, because of his
B.O.
And whatever he lacked in brains, he made up for with meanness and brute
strength. He used to brag about how he once crushed a puppy's rib cage with one
hand, and then left the poor creature whimpering while it died in pain. Nice
guy!
Peck knew how I hated Ferdy, of course. Shit, everybody hated Ferdy.
"It's very important," Peck pontificated,"for your first few dates to be with
people you wouldn't dream of putting out for willingly. Except for me, of
course," he grinned.
"That way, we can get your feet wet fast, as the saying goes. If you only had
Johns that you like, you could maybe persuade yourself that you were doing it
for `love', but if we start out with the bottom of the barrel, you'll have it
driven home to you that you're doing it for money -- never mind that the money
will be coming to me instead of to you -- and that you're going to be fucked by
any and every customer that I send you, whether you like him or not.
"And you'll do it any way he wants, and as many times as he wants," Peck
concluded. "Or she wants," he grinned as an afterthought. "After all, this is
the age of equal rights."
Bottom of the barrel, eh? Well, that certainly described Fed the Nerd to a T.
"But I had some other reasons for choosing Ferdy for your first trick," Peck
went on. "Reasons intimately related to your career development.
"In the first place," he ticked off on his fingers, "Ferdy agreed to let us
take pictures of him screwing you, just so long as I give him copies that he
can show around to his friends -- some of whom are also your friends, of
course. And, besides the advertising uses we can put them to, action pictures
of a broad that's built like you are money in the bank.
"And the second reason is that Ferdy is the kind of guy that kisses and tells,
as they used so delicately to put it. Nobody can get the word around town that
you're available as fast as Ferdy will. And people will figure that anybody
that would fuck for Ferdy will take anyone on. And they'll be right, of course.
"And there's no advertising quite so effective as the word of a satisfied
customer."
I couldn't take it any longer. "I may not be able to keep him from raping me,"
I groused, "but I'll be damned if I'll do anything to satisfy him."
Peck replied with a little session from the Persuader. When I had stopped
screaming, he went on matter-of-factly, as if nothing had happened. "I think
that it might be more accurate to say that you'll be damned if you don't
satisfy him", he chuckled. "Ferdy can be pretty mean if he thinks that his girl
friend of the moment is doing less than her very best. Or if he decides that
her best isn't good enough for him. And we don't want him leaving any marks on
you that you won't be able to explain to your mother, do we?
"And of course I'll be keeping a fatherly eye on you, and will give you a
little shot of the Persuader whenever I get the feeling that your enthusiasm is
waning.
"And one more thing. I always ask my girls' clients to grade their performance
afterwards. A, B, C, D, or F -- just like in school. If you get an A, you have
nothing to worry about. Anything less puts you in line for a course in remedial
motivation. Where the stimulus is applied depends on your grade. If you get a
B, I burn your butt. For a C, I clobber your cunt. If you get a D, I dust off
your ding dongs. And if you should be so injudicious as to get an F we take
serious steps to see that it doesn't happen again. Rather effective steps, too,
aren't they, Rosie?"
The look Rosie gave him was pure hate, mixed with remembered panic.
"Rosie has been a straight A girl ever since our little session," Peck
chortled. "We also have an incentive program, whereby the girl with the lowest
average grade gets assigned to our special rate customers -- unless, of course,
the customer pays an extra premium for the privilege of selecting a specific
victim -- I mean, lover. After all, the customer is always right -- if he pays
enough."
The bell in the outer office interrupted Peck's monologue, announcing that
someone had come into the store. "I expect that'll be Sheila, with your ardent
lover," Peck observed. "Let's see you sit up on the couch, and give him the
greeting that we taught you. And see that Ol' Ferdy gets his money's worth.
"And one more thing," he added coarsely. "Always remember, in this business,
the customer comes first." He laughed uproariously. "Not that you'll be
bothered by little annoyances like premature orgasms with a customer like
friend Ferdy. Or any kind of orgasm at all, for that matter."
========================================================== THE STARLET SLAVE 12 joypaine 12. Starting Out After Peck's little pep talk, I just about busted my ass trying to make Ferd the Nerd happy. I smiled my sweetest, and moaned enthusiastically at the right times, and screamed when he pinched my tits and cunt lips (I didn't have to fake that part), and went through all the proper gyrations. So that Ferdy -- and anyone who happened to watch the tape that Old Peck was making of my ordeal -- must have been sure that I was fucking for the pure love of it. Or for the love of money, anyway. And Peck helped out from time to time, with a little goose from that damned Persuader, keeping me squirming and howling like a mad fiend at the strategic moments. And when Ferdy was finally ready to come, Peck let loose with a shock that stiffened my whole body into what must have seemed like the wildest orgasm on record. Ferdy had the time of his life. He even kissed me good bye afterward, and told me that I was a real tiger. And said that I was going to take Sheila's place as his best girl from now on. Just what I needed! Like a hole in the head, that is. After Ferdy, the second John was an anticlimax. Some old bum from Skid Row, smelling of cheap wine and vomit. And even the smell wasn't all that bad, after Ferdy's B.O. Peck made a big deal out of giving him a special low price because of his low income status, but insisted that he had to charge something, in order to "maintain the integrity of my commercial standing". Pretty fancy language, just to say that he was reminding me that I was a whore. And a fifty-cent whore, at that. But it was my third customer that really took the prize. Old Mr. Nelson, my English teacher. We all used to joke about Old Nelly (Nelly Gray, we used to call him, because of his gray hair) -- what a Dirty Old Man he was. And what an ineffectual Dirty old Man -- a regular nebbish. All of us -- boys and girls alike -- used to joke about how he was always watching the girls' tits and asses. We figured that he was really harmless, though. Way over the hill. He must have been fifty at the very least, and we figured that he probably couldn't get a hard on anymore. All of us girls -- even the innocents like me -- used to tease him, rubbing our tits when we knew that he was watching out of the corner of his eye, and twitching our asses when we walked away from him. One or two of the girls used to go so far as to bump into him "accidentally" now and then, rubbing their bodies against him, and getting a real kick out of how he tried to pretend not to notice. He wasn't pretending not to notice now, though. He was all eyes -- and hands. He had a new schtick. He took out his false teeth and started gumming my tit. At first it was just gross, but then he started pulling more and more of the tit into his mouth, and biting harder and harder, until it really started to hurt. I pulled away and slapped his face gently -- after all, I thought, I can put old Nelly Gray in his place. But he surprised me. Instead of the abject apology I expected, he gave my tit a backhand swipe with his fist. And not so gently, either. And then he turned to Peck. "Time to take the gloves off," he said. Peck handed him the control box for the Persuader, and Nelly lost no time in showing me that he knew exactly what to do with it. He started out by beating out a sort of rhythm on that fucking switch, sending me into a frantic dance that made my tits jiggle. And then he glommed onto my tit with his gums again, and chomped down as if he was trying to milk me dry. And I just screamed myself hoarse. It was obvious that he was enjoying my pain more than he was the taste of titty. Every time I screamed, he just grunted in satisfaction, and grabbed a bigger mouthful and chomped again. And then the other tit . . . When he finally let go, I knew that my tits would ache for a week. And then the real fun began. He strapped me down on that bench again, spread-eagled and face up, and Peck handed him a beautiful leather case full of what looked like surgical instruments. Nelly took great care with each instrument as he picked it up, waving it before my eyes, and explaining in great detail what he was going to do with it. And what he was going to do it to. They were the most satanic assortment of tools that you could imagine -- something like what the Mad Doctor on TV is always coming up with. Except that they don't show the Mad Doctor operating on the tits and cunts of his victims. I realized damn quickly why the rates for this sort of John were extra high -- and why the Johns were willing to pay them. This was the kind of trick that only a slave would turn. There wasn't enough money in the world to get a girl to go through an ordeal like this voluntarily -- especially on a repeat basis. And Nelly lost no time in telling me that he'd be coming back. Again and again . . . While he tortured me, he gloated over the fact that it was he who had "discovered" me. He explained that he had noticed me in class -- shit, I knew that -- and had called Peck's attention to my "potentialities". A nice word for tits, he chuckled. And he had paid Peck a special bonus to procure me "just for him".
=========================================================== THE STARLET SLAVE 13 joypaine 13. Tamed Well, he certainly worked me over for a while. He even made a couple of wounds that I was sure would leave scars. He apologized to Peck about it -- not to me, of course -- and said that he'd pay extra for the damage. But after all, he pointed out, they were in places where nobody but my clients were ever likely to see them -- and probably only the special rate customers at that. And for those guys, a scar in a place like that could be a turn-on, rather than a blemish. Well, Old Nelly was a first in another way, too. By the time he had worked himself up to the pitch of excitement where he was ready to fuck me (and we had been wrong at school, by the way -- his prick was hard enough to do plenty of damage) he didn't want to remove those torture devices he had so lovingly placed. So he had me French him instead. But first he put a bite block between my back teeth, to keep me from damaging his tool, either out of spite or when I involuntarily clenched my teeth in pain. When he had finished raping my face, he left me still strapped to the bench while he dressed, with the torture devices still in place. After all, he said, Peck or one of the girls could undo me at their leisure -- unless they wanted to take up where he had left off. Well, after those three customers had finished with me, not to mention the rape by Peck himself (and the one after Nelly had left), I felt so filthy and so -- used -- that I just didn't give a shit any more. All of my self-esteem was gone, and I was already thinking of myself as Peck wanted me to -- as the town whore. And I knew that the rest of the town would, too, as soon as Ferd the Nerd started shooting his mouth off and showing those pictures of him fucking me. I guess that Peck had set some sort of record with me -- from virgin to whore in a couple of hours flat. I knew that I couldn't run away, or even kill myself, because of what the shock would do to Mom. And, as I said, I just didn't give a shit. As long as the word didn't get back to Mom, I knew that I would do just about anything that Peck asked. And I had a pretty good idea what he was going to ask, too. And he wouldn't even have to use that damned Persuader to get me to do it. The only use he'd have for that Little Wonder from now on would be for fun -- his own and that of his "special rate" customers. Old Peck knew that he had me. He knew his business, all right. I wondered how many other lives he had ruined, and how much money he had made from the pricks that had helped to ruin them. So life settled down into a hellish routine from then on.
===========================================================
THE STARLET SLAVE 14
joypaine
14. Terms of Slavery
Peck let me wear ordinary street clothes whenever I went home, or went out with
Mom, but all the rest of the time -- to school and everything -- I had to wear a
T-shirt (advertising Peck's jewelry, of course, with some rather special bits of
jewelry silk-screened onto the shirt in the logical places) and mini-skirt,
saddle shoes and bobby socks. And nothing else. Nothing. No bra, no panties, no
sweater, no coat. Nothing. Except for a transparent plastic raincoat on rainy
days.
Thank goodness it was Spring.
And I had to let anybody -- anybody at all, that wanted to -- pinch my tits,
pull up my skirt, goose me, and even finger fuck me, no matter how public the
place was, or how many other people were looking on. But no free fucking. That
cost. The rates were reasonable, of course -- reasonable enough to keep me on my
back just about all of my free time. Except for the "special rates".
And did I ever learn something about the upstanding citizens of the town! Or
maybe I should make that lying-down citizens, although some of them did like to
do it standing up. Or sitting, or with me hanging from a trapeze, or just about
every other position you could imagine.
And the teachers. Not every one of my teachers was one of Peck's customers, but
it sure seemed that way. And you can imagine how embarrassing it was for me to
fuck a teacher at night and then have to sit in his class the next day. And
every one of the teachers who were my clients were "special rate". Even the
women. Shit, especially the women. They were the most vicious of all. And since
they were women themselves, they knew exactly what hurt the most, and what would
be the most disgusting.
But one thing I absolutely refused to do was take it in the ass. Even when Peck
put me through an intensive "training session" with the Persuaders -- both of
them, front and back. And you can imagine what fascinating rhythms he could play
with a combination like that! I told Peck he could probably rape me in the ass
if he really tried hard enough, but if he did I'd kill myself, but only after
writing to the police and the newspapers and everybody about his whole
operation.
Peck was pretty impressed by my determination, and I had to tell him why I
thought that sodomy was so much worse than being fucked any other way.
* * * * *
It was when I was 10 years old, and it was absolutely the most horrible thing
that had ever happened to me -- until that day when Peck got his hooks into me.
Or maybe the most horrible, period. Mom and I had gone on a picnic, and suddenly
there was this bunch of teen-age boys surrounding us and making lewd
suggestions. I didn't know what the score was entirely, but you can just bet
that I knew something was wrong when two of them grabbed Mom and held her arms
twisted behind her back, while the others held me and made jokes about how good
I would be. Then they made my mother a proposition. Either she'd strip and put
out for them, they told her, or they'd fuck the shit out of me. I didn't
understand at the time. but I guess they meant that literally, in view of what
they did to Mom.
They made a big show out of it, applauding as Mom took off her clothes --
slowly, garment by garment, with lots of bumps and grinds. And then they fucked
her. In the ass. Her screams of pain were enough to put me off men for life.
With what I've learned since, I know that my revulsion was compounded by the
feeling of guilt because Mom was doing it to save me. But whatever, I meant
every word that I told Peck.
So Peck offered me a deal. Rosie would take all my "backward" customers, and I'd
take her "special rate" ones. Rosie was delighted with the arrangement. So was
I. It made things pretty rough on me, but I was still glad to jmp at the chance.
And Peck always put the Persuader in my ass when I went out on a date -- for my
protection, he said. After all, if I thought that sodomy was so terrible, I
ought to be glad to have a plug there. The trouble is that he always told the
John about it, and showed him how the Persuader worked ("just in case") and gave
him the control box to use if he "had" to. And of course the "need" always
arose, Johns being what they are.
Thank God, the Persuader he used was a modified model that only put out about
one-quarter power, but that was enough to be pretty uncomfortable. Especially
since the Johns didn't show much restraint about using the damned thing.
===================================================================
THE STARLET SLAVE 15
joypaine
15. In the Trade
One funny thing. Although lots of the teachers -- men and women alike -- were
"enjoying my favors", as the old stories used to put it, the kids at school left
me alone. Oh, not quite alone. They knew the score, of course. Even if the word
hadn't gotten around, they would have been able to guess from the way I dressed.
And I knew that Peck's pictures of me were circulating around the school -- he
used to make a point of telling me whenever he sold a set to any of the
students, making sure that I knew exactly who the buyer was.
And sure, the guys used to rub up against me, and maybe cop a feel now and then,
but no more than they did with the other girls. And it was all done furtively,
as if they thought that they were getting away with something. I dunno. Maybe it
was more fun if they thought they were getting something that they weren't
supposed to. Or maybe they were afraid of what the other guys would do -- or
even more what the girls would say -- if it was known that they were fooling
around with the town whore.
Even a whore as young and as well stacked as I was.
Above all, none of the fellows ever asked me for a "date". And I'm sure it
wasn't a question of money. Old Peckerhead's rates were very flexible. Sure, he
liked to make as much as he could on every trick I turned, but he was a good
enough businessman to realize that a cheap trick brought in more than no trick
at all. And he got a kick out of my degradation, too. I think that he would have
given my ass away for free, if there ever was a time when he couldn't find a
paying customer. The thing that broke his heart more than anything else was to
see me in any position other than flat on my back.
No, I didn't mean that literally. He didn't give a shit what position I did it
in, just so long as I was doing it.
And of course he always took advantage of my off periods for a little diversion
for himself. And believe me, I used to bust my ass trying to get a customer --
any customer at all -- that would give me an excuse to avoid Peck's attentions.
That may be one of the reasons he used to make our sessions so unpleasant -- to
encourage me to go out and find paying customers that would occupy my time. But
some of it was pure meanness, too.
Interesting, though. Although the guys left me alone, a lot of the girls
regarded me as a sort of folk-heroine. Or maybe that should be fuck-heroine. Not
all of them, of course. Especially not Peck's other girls, who knew as well as I
did how sordid the Life was. Well, they almost knew. I'm sure that my lot was
worse than theirs.
And here's an interesting question: Although he had at least those three other
girls from school in his stable -- and there were the ones that I recruited, and
a couple of others that I was suspicious about, and God knows how many others --
none of them had to be as blatant as I had to about their availability. I
figured that maybe it was just because of my big tits, but Rosie told me that
was only part of it. One reason he made me a special case, she pointed out, was
that my family situation made it possible. Mom didn't get out hardly at all, so
there wasn't much chance that she would see me in my working clothes. And
everybody knew about her heart condition, so they weren't going to tell her
about me, for fear of sending her over the brink.
And besides, Rosie pointed out, it was useful for him to have some of his girls
put up respectable fronts. ("Although your front is pretty damned respectable",
she giggled.) Some of his customers liked to have a girl available for
"legitimate" dates, such as for a visiting boss. Or some of them would like to
go out on a conventional date now and then (with an assured fuck afterward, of
course). And it was convenient for Peck to have a number of "clean" girls for
such assignments.
"I'm no psychiatrist", Rosie added, "but it's also just possible that he takes
this approach with you because you were a virgin when he first screwed you. That
would be in line with the way his sadistic mind works. He took my cherry, too,
and you may have noticed that he treats me worse than any of his other girls,
except you."
But like I say, some of the girls actually admired me. Or admired what they
thought I was. They didn't have the slightest idea how painful and degrading
each sexual encounter was for me, and how humiliated I was every minute. To the
girls, I was "liberated", whatever they thought that meant.
And they assumed I knew a hell of a lot more than I did. Sure, I knew a lot of
things that they had never guessed at, but that wasn't what they had in mind.
They used to come to me for advice on "how to get the most out of sex". If
they'd asked me how to get more sex, I could have told them -- just let old Peck
get his meathooks into them. And I did recruit a number of white slaves for him,
too. I'm ashamed of it, but he gave me a quota to fill -- or sometimes he would
designate who the next victim would be -- and he made it just too damned painful
for me if I didn't meet the quota.
But the girls wanted me to tell them how to enjoy sex. Shit, I'd never even had
one orgasm. Until that date with Dicky, that is.
THE STARLET SLAVE 16 joypaine 16. Invitation Dicky was the last guy on earth that you'd ever expect to go on a date with a whore. Or with any girl, for that matter. Dicky was a brain. He wasn't a wimp, by any stretch of the imagination. He had done several things around school that showed real leadership ability. He was President of the school band, for instance, and he had just about single-handedly organized the Science Club. And made it work. But he just didn't seem interested in girls. Sure, he liked to joke with them, just like with the fellows, but you got the idea that if he ever thought of you as a girl, it was as a sort of biological curiosity. We used to joke that if Dicky ever had a wet dream, he'd wring out the sheets and bring the semen in to the lab the next morning. No, he didn't give any indication of being gay, either, and he used to treat the girls with the utmost respect. But he reminded me of that scientist Tesla, who they said cultivated a love for a pigeon so he wouldn't be distracted by women. Tesla, I think. Dicky's mind just operated at a high altitude. Well, you can imagine my amazement when Dicky started taking a shine to me -- catching up with me in the corridor to walk to the next class, for instance. Asking permission (permission, yet!) to eat lunch at the same table with me. The usual things a guy did with a girl he was interested in. No, he didn't offer to carry my books for me. Fellows weren't doing that in those days. I figured that he might be going to do a study on the influence of heredity and diet and lifestyle on the size of breasts, or something. But if he did, I was willing to bet that it would be a scholarly study, worthy of publication in the AMA Journal. And he never made any reference to my "profession", nor did he make any improper suggestions or advances. Hell, I was frustrated when he didn't, and he became sort of a challenge to me. I figured that if he was going to ignore the fact that I was a woman, I was gong to have to find some way to get into his pants. Christ, he probably was a virgin, too. Wouldn't that be just something! What fools these mortals be, as somebody said. Puck, wasn't it? Dicky even asked me to help him with his research project -- something about the mechanism that arouses oestrus in dogs, whatever that is. But I had to beg off, because Peck's demands didn't leave me any free time. Believe me, though, I was really flattered that any man -- especially a Big Man About School like Dicky -- would pay any attention to me. And the fact that I declined to help him with his project didn't turn him off a bit. He just kept on as he had, and finally he got around to asking me for a date. "Bill's parents are going out of town for the weekend, and he's going to give a party," Dicky said. "There'll probably be some drinking, but no dope. Bill's pretty straight when it comes to what he puts into his body. He's really serious about wrestling, you know." Well, you can bet that the invitation flattered the pants off me. If I had been wearing pants, that is. And although a big party wasn't the ideal place to get screwed -- at least, I assumed it wasn't going to be that kind of a party -- there would always be afterwards, when Dicky took me home. Mom would probably be asleep by then, and I could even sneak Dicky into my own bedroom, if he didn't have anything more original in mind. Hell, this wouldn't be the first time. Lots of my customers thought it was fun to defile me in my own bed, where I could just turn over and dream about it afterward. They didn't know that I always had to get up and report to Peck for a debriefing, and maybe for another trick. Or a little playtime with Peck himself. I don't have any idea where the term "debriefing" came from, by the way. Usually a girl had her briefs off long before that time. Well, I was walking on air after Dicky's invitation. And then I came back to earth with a jolt. Shit, Peck would never let me have the time off! I knew damned well what Peck's answer would be, but the dream was so sweet that I asked him anyway, at a time when he had just finished torturing me, and I thought he might be in a good mood. Well, Peck surprised the Hell out of me. He said that he'd be glad to let me have the night off, if . . .
============================================================== THE STARLET SLAVE 17 joypaine 17. Come to the Party I should have known that there would be a catch to it. And boy, was there a catch! He'd let me have that single night off, he said, if I'd take a "special rate" trick every night until then. Ten straight nights of "special rate"! And I knew it wouldn't do me any good to say no. Now that he had the idea, he'd just assign me to those sadists anyway, whether it was part of a bargain or not. And then he sprang the other half of the deal on me. This was a very special customer, who wanted me over the school vacation on a live-in basis, 24 hours a day. After all, with school in recess next week, he pointed out, that nice Mr. Nelson would have time hanging heavily on his hands, so . . . Besides, he pointed out, Mr. Nelson was one of his few customers that wouldn't mind at all that during half of the time I was going to spend with him, I'd be having my period. I knew that already -- I'd had "periodic" dates with him before. I just about threw up at the thought of spending ten days with Old Nelly, and 24 hour days at that. But, as usual, I didn't have any choice. And I did have Peck's permission to take one night off -- after I had earned it . . . I hated like Hell lying to Mom -- I told her that one of my classmates had invited me to spend the vacation on her cousin's farm -- but I'd been lying a lot to Mom lately, anyway, to explain why I never spent any time at home. Well, I don't want to go into any details about that week with Nelly -- the sooner that's forgotten, the better. Suffice it to say that he made me strip the minute I walked into his house, and then he fastened those damned bra-clamps on me the first thing, and made me keep them on the whole time. And then he took it from there . . . I kept trying to cheer myself up with the thought of how my date with Dicky was going to be -- my first real romantic date since I had become Peck's white slave. Of course, Peck insisted that I wear that damned Persuader in my asshole for my date with Dicky -- just like he did for all of my dates -- even though I wasn't going to be "on duty". "After all," he smirked, "if you won't fuck that way for my clients, I won't have you doing it on your own, for free." He wouldn't listen to my protests that Dicky wasn't that kind of guy -- he just sort of smiled as if he knew better, and then sent me off to take the enema and put in the Persuader. And he tested it, of course, with a couple of bursts of current, to make sure it was properly in place and working. It was. So I got all fixed up in my pretty party dress and my sexiest underwear, and Mom was delighted at the thought of my going out on a date. I'd been spending far too much time on that jewelry design course that I'd been taking with Mr. Peck, she said, and there was something about that man she didn't trust. And so on. Well, Dicky came to pick me up, like a perfect gentleman, corsage and all, and escorted me to the car. He even held the car door open while I got in, and then walked around to the driver's side. We had just got under way when things suddenly went sour. That damned Persuader in my asshole started going off! It was very low voltage, but enough to make me squirm. Luckily, Dicky didn't notice. That damned Peck! I might have known that he wouldn't let me have one night of real fun without spoiling everything. Either he was firing that goddam thing by radio, or he had put some kind of timing device in it, I was sure. And who knew what that Little Wonder was going to do before the night was over? Well, we got over to Bill's house without my actually breaking down and screaming, but the shocks had been getting steadily worse. And then Dicky parked the car, opened the door for me, and escorted me into the house. He must have noticed my agony by now. He probably put it down to stomach cramps. I can imagine what he was thinking -- here I've gone to all this trouble to take her out for a good time, and it turns out that she's got the rag on! Poor Dicky! And poor me! I knew that there was something wrong as soon as we walked in the door, but it took me a moment to put my finger on it. Then it hit me. Most of the guys from school were there, but I was the only girl at the party!
======================================================= THE STARLET SLAVE 18 joypaine 18. Snappy Clothes Well, I thought bitterly, so much for chivalry and romanticism, and all that sort of horse shit. While he was giving me all that sweet talk, Dicky had been planning a gang bang for me! I was going to tell him what I thought of him, and about the whole idea, when he pulled his hand out of his pocket. And guess what? He had the control box of the Persuader in his hand. Shit! he'd been buzzing my asshole all the while he'd been playing Mr. Nice Guy! I had a pretty good idea by now how the evening was going to turn out. Even before he told me to strip. Well, I told myself, this is the absolute bottom. After I put up with 24 hours of Old Nelly for ten days -- to get this -- things couldn't get any worse. Shows how little a girl knows, sometimes. Even after my "professional" experience, it was embarrassing to strip in front of my friends (some friends!), especially when I had been planning to have a nice old-fashioned normal party evening with them. But Dicky and the Persuader didn't give me any choice. He told me to take my time about it -- nice and slow, "by the numbers" -- slow and sexy. Pantyhose first. He said that if there was anything that turned him off it was a broad in pantyhose, so let's get them off before the dress, even. The fellows started whistling and clapping and cheering as soon as I unzipped my dress, and they gave a real round of applause when I let the garment fall to the floor and stepped out of it. Dicky had me walk around a bit in my slip, just to get everybody in the mood, and then gave me the nod to take it off. Well, you remember that I had worn my sexiest peekaboo bra and panty set -- the ones that were part of my working clothes on those rare occasions when Peck didn't want to present me as pure slut. Pure slut! Now there's a contradiction of terms for you. Just like what Old Nelly used to call an oxymoron in his English class. See -- I'd learned something from him besides how to get fucked, in both senses of the term. After I'd taken off my slip, the guys started joking about what would happen with a pair of tits as big as mine when I took off my bra. And of course they had to make the test, to find out. I was very proud in those days of the fact that my tits didn't sag a bit without any support. Hell, I still am proud of it -- even after all the abuse they've taken. But Dicky said, don't worry -- he had some real snappy underwear for me. s# So off came the bra, and on went the "snappy" replacement. It was a pretty stupid looking thing -- it was apparently made from a standard bra, but the fabric had all been cut out of the cups, leaving just the straps and a ring of cloth circling each tit. And some strips of elastic had been sewed into the rings, in the form of a big X, criss-crossing the tit, and crossing each other right at the nipple, where they had sewed a big button. It didn't look very snappy to me, but then Dicky showed me why he had given it that name. He grabbed the buttons, one in each hand, and stretched the elastic out as far as it would go, and SPLAT! They snapped, all right -- and hit right on the nipples, with devastating pain. And all the guys cheered as I screamed. They all took turns with the snapping for a while, and then they had me take off my panties . . . The snapping button at my clitoris hurt almost as much as the ones on my nipples did. And then they snapped all of them together for a while.
================================================================= THE STARLET SLAVE 19 joypaine 19. A Real Bitch It was about this time that Sheila and Rosie walked into the room, dressed just as I was. So I wasn't going to be the only girl fucked at the party, after all. But I didn't know that they had something special in mind for me. "You remember, Ellie Baby," Dicky said, "that I invited you to help me with my research project. On what makes dogs mate, that is. But you were too busy, you said. Well, I've decided to give you one more chance to work with me." Goosing me with the Persuader, he directed me over to a sort of low table on one side of the room, where he made me lie down on my back. "I'm afraid we'll have to take off the panties for this gig." he said. in mock apology. And then he fastened my legs to the table, spreading my thighs out wide. After he had strapped my wrists down so that I couldn't move, and put a pussy gag in my mouth so that the guys could rape my face whenever they wanted to, he gave me the bad news. "Now," he announced, "we're going to demonstrate what it takes to make the dogs fuck you." My God, how gross! I just about tore my arms off, trying to get loose, but whatever they had tied me with held too damned well, and all I could do was lie there. They put a pillow under my head, so I could watch my "lovers" while they screwed me. Well, first they said that they wanted my "boyfriends" to get acquainted with me, so they poured some gravy on my cunt and nipples, and let the dogs lick it off. And that's when I had the first orgasm of my life. And the second, and the third, and . . . shit, it was just one orgasm after another for the next several minutes. At first, it was real pleasant, even though the edge was taken off by the fact that my schoolmates were watching, and applauding, and making all sorts of lewd comments. But the pleasure wore off quickly, and it was no time at all before I'd had enough to last me for moths. I moaned and struggled and screamed through the gag, but the fact that I was in agony didn't stop them, of course. After all, that's why they were doing it. And then Dicky took the stage again. "It is generally accepted", he said as if he were lecturing to a class, "that oestrus in the lower animals is produced by the odors of the pheromones secreted by the female's vulva. Or in language that you will all understand, it's the smell of the bitch's twat that makes the dog want to fuck her. We are about to test that theory. If a couple of you fellows would please fasten the dogs' leashes to the leg of that table over there for a few moments . . ." He took a sealed jar from the bar -- a jar in which a rag was immersed in a clear fluid. "The base of this liquid", he went on, "is the wipings from the cunts of the lab's bitches that were in heat this morning. They're mixed with an odorless liquid that just makes it easier to spread. And also lubricates the cunt when necessary. I think, though, that we'll find that little Ellie's twat is naturally slippery enough after the antics she's just been going through." The dogs just about went wild when Dicky uncorked the bottle and they got a whiff of it. It was the real stuff, all right. He wiped it liberally on my cunt, smearing a bit of it into the crack, so the dogs would know exactly where it was at. And then he sealed up the bottle again, and wiped his hands off with something that killed the smell on them. Then they turned the dogs loose. Nauseating as it was, I couldn't tear my eyes away. Those dogs swarmed about me just as they would have around a real bitch, fighting, growling, the whole bit. The fucking itself wasn't painful -- just thoroughly disgusting. And of course it was all being recorded for posterity on film and videotape. This was one rape that was going to be enjoyed at stag parties for generations to come. After that, the fucking and sucking that went on for the rest of the evening were an anticlimax. Sucking for me, that is; both fucking and sucking for Rosie and Sheila. Nobody wanted to come near my cunt after that stint with the dogs. Including me. The guys did introduce some painful and degrading little games to spice things up, but nothing like the stuff that I was used to with the "special rate" customers. And then Dicky became the perfect gentleman again.
=============================================================== THE STARLET SLAVE 20 joypaine 20. Free After he helped me back into my party clothes, Dicky drove me home again without even turning on that damned Persuader once. And then he invited himself in -- he had to use the Persuader just a touch there -- and Mom gave us some cake and milk, and asked if we had a good time at the party, and talked with Dicky for a while about how his research project was going. It was great "fun" listening to Dicky's double-meaning answers about the ways he had tested his research -- how he had just recently tried it out on a special "bitch". . . Peck had great plans for that summer. After graduation, he told me, I was going to tell Mom that I had been offered a job as counsellor in a summer camp. He was even going to print up some fancy stationery for the camp, after he decided whether to call it the Four King Hideaway or Many Forks. Or maybe the 4-Q dude ranch. He always was a fast one with the dirty pun. And then, while Mom thought I was off at camp, I would move in with Peck so I could be on duty 24 hours a day (and every day of the month, as he loved to put it). And maybe he could make me available for out-of-town trips with some of his clients, as well. Or take on temporary assignments in some of the whorehouses that he had "exchange programs" with. Or maybe as live-in sex slave with some rich man -- or woman. And he didn't say so, but I was deathly afraid that once I got into some out-of-town gig, I might never come back. But it didn't work out for him. I hate to put it this way, but it was a great relief when Mom's heart gave out in her sleep one night, and the only real hold that Peck had on me was broken. I had known all along that that fake confession he had wouldn't hold water -- its only value had been to give him an excuse to threaten to worry Mom by calling in the police -- and there was nothing I had to lose by letting the rest of the town know what was going on. After all, they knew me as the town whore, anyway. Mom's insurance money, along with what I got from the sale of the house, was enough to enable me to enroll in the university in the state capital, where I could make a fresh start. And then Jeff came along. I lied to you a little about Jeff. After I had been in class with him for a few days, he recognized me from some of Peck's hard-core porn pictures that he had bought under the counter somewhere, and he blackmailed me into moving in with him, or else he would show them around the campus. But he was a Hell of a lot better master than Peck had been. I just thanked God that Jeff hadn't got hold of some of those torture pictures of me that Peck had been peddling -- I'm sure that he would have made me re-enact them again and again. Well (Ellen concluded) that's the way it all happened. So now you know everything that led up to that fucking fraternity party.
THE STARLET SLAVE 21
joypaine
21. The Promised Land
OK (said the policeman) That brings you up to the fraternity party. So what went
on after you left with the Hollywood talent scout?
Well, (Ellen went on) there's not much to be said about that trip across the
country, except that Larry had more sexual stamina than any other man I've ever
known. He'd drive a few hours, and then we'd check into a motel, where he would
remind me that putting out for him was the price I was paying for his influence
in Hollywood. You can bet that I didn't need much reminding -- especially after
his performance the first few days. And then, the third day out or so, he
brought out a kit of "tools" much like those that Old Nelly had introduced me
to, 'way back there in high school. Jesus Christ! This was turning out to be the
same old nightmare all over again. But at least I had only one customer to put
out for, I consoled myself, even if he is insatiable, and a sadist to boot.
Wrong!
Pretty soon he had me making office calls -- at least one a day -- on people
that lived along the way. People who were influential financially in the movie
trade, he said. And who was I to say he was wrong? Well, I told myself, I had
chosen this bed of roses, and after all, he had warned me that I would have to
sleep with a lot of people, if I was going to hope for a successful career in
the dog-eat-dog world of Hollywood. Or maybe I should say "bitch-eat-dog". I was
amazed at how many of Larry's "friends" preferred oral sex. Luckily, there were
very few "special rate" demands; Larry seemed to have a near monopoly on that
angle. Just my luck that the one true sadist among my Johns was the one that I
had to spend all day -- and all night -- with! And every damned night, at that.
So life was more or less of a nightmare until we arrived in the Promised Land.
Perhaps less than it had been with old Pecker, though, I must admit.
Larry's "palace" in Beverly Hills was the most sumptuous house I had ever seen.
("This business is built on appearances", he said. "If you can't impress the guy
you're negotiating with, you might as well be dead.") I soon found, however,
that most of the estate was off limits for me--in fact, most of my waking hours
(except when I was "working", that is) would be spent in the health spa.
Constant working-out and careful dieting are essentials for keeping that
glorious figure that was my principal stock in trade, Larry pointed out.
There was something curious about the forbidden areas, though. There was an
almost constant stream of visitors coming and going at all hours. The few women
among them all had a curiously determined air when they arrived, and when they
left, they looked as if the burdens of the world had been lifted from their
shoulders. I don't know why, but they reminded me in some way of the women that
used to be my "customers" in high school.
But for the moment, I was too busy with screen tests to worry much about such
things. And those tests bothered me, too. It looked as if I was getting trapped
into a world of porno pictures -- every one of the scenarios called for me to
fuck, or suck, or do something else that only Dirty Old Men would want to watch.
But Larry again pointed out that there were lots of legitimate stars who made
their entries into the profession via the porno route; that these gigs were the
easiest kind to get; and that what I needed more than anything else at this
stage, was widespread exposure.
Well, exposure I did get, and most of it spread as wide as my muscles would
tolerate. I don't remember a single script that didn't require me to take my
clothes off. For openers.
And my co-stars were not what you'd expect -- most of them were tired old men,
who seemed to be there just for the chance to screw me. And when I questioned
him about it, Larry was quite open -- most of the men were executives in the
business. This was my chance not only to show them how I could act, Larry
pointed out, but also to ingratiate myself with them so that they would remember
me when they had to make a casting decision.
Well, I figured, maybe that's the way it's done in Hollywood.
The acting part was easy. In the rape skits, my partner was usually ugly enough
so I didn't have to pretend that I didn't like it; in the torture routines, the
screaming came naturally. In the few cases when I was supposed to be consenting,
the action required such bodily activity that I doubt that anybody looked at my
face; although I did have to swallow my pride (and often other things) with some
of the scenarios.
=========================================================== THE STARLET SLAVE 22 joypaine 22. The Verdict And then (she went on) there were the house parties. Some of them were real orgies, but a lot were intimate little affairs -- just me and one or two men (or women) that Larry thought I should know. Yeah, "know" just like they said David "knew" Bathsheba in the Bible. And he developed a scenario, which he introduced me to, bit by bit. We'd start the evening out watching a porno show, in which the "heroine" (or often the victim) would be dressed just as I was. Then at the end of the show, they'd all be in the mood to re-enact the show. And I'd know damned well what was coming, so I could have the "fun" of dreading each development. And still no offers of a starring role, or even a bit part, in a legitimate film. Well, I'm not usually this slow, but this time I was hypnotized by the possibility of stardom, and, let's face it, taken in by Larry's glib spiel. But bit by bit, it dawned on me that there were no movies in my future; that Larry was using me -- that I was no more than his live-in whore. But tonight was the last straw. There were three guys as my "guests", and the girl in the movie (who was dressed just as I was) had to submit to the most painful and degrading torture you can imagine, after which they had a butt-fuck gang bang. And that's the one thing about which I have a pathological fear. I began to puke, to their amusement -- after all, they joked, they hadn't planned on kissing me, anyway. But at least it did make them let me run to the bathroom. I considered it an act of God that there was a rose trellis beside the bathroom window. Luckily, I could pry open the window far enough to squeeze through, and climb down the trellis, although you see what a mess the roses made of my clothes. Now, for God's sake, please take me someplace where I can get away from those perverts for good!" "You'll be safe here for the present," said the cop. "Just hold your water while I mail this tape to a safe place." Ellen had no choice, although she almost held her breath while he put the cassette into a mailer envelope he took from the glove compartment, addressed and stamped it, and dropped it into the nearby mail box. "Now let's see what to do with you. "I could take your story at face value, but I don't know where you could go at this time of night in those clothes. Of course, I could go whole hog on the Good Samaritan bit, and treat you to a new outfit and a bus ticket, and feel real good while you go off thinking SUCKER! Or I could let you share my bed for a while -- and then pass you around among the guys down at the station. A girl with the past that you claim probably wouldn't mind a few more lovers", he leered. "But all this doesn't take into account one fact that you apparently aren't aware of. You see, doll, your precious Larry is very well connected with the Mob. In fact, he's their regional cuntmaster, and obviously has long-range plans for you. And he'd be awfully disappointed if a lowly cop like me were to upset them. No, I'm going to take you back to him -- maybe I can turn the situation to my advantage." Ellen shrieked in dismay, then fainted.
================================================================== THE STARLET SLAVE 23 joypaine 23. A New Beginning Ellen regained consciousness just as the squad car was approaching the door of that dreadful house. She cowered in the back seat, helpless, while the cop rang the doorbell, spoke to the man who answered. He disappeared for a moment, then returned with Larry. "I think I have a mental case that escaped from your custody," the cop began. "I'd suggest that you be more careful with her in the future. Oh, by the way, please don't think of rewarding my honesty by disposing of me. I assure you that I mean you no harm. And I must further advise you that I taped her whole life story, and have it all on tape, with names, dates, places -- the whole schtick." Larry's face lost all of its unctuous charm, leaving a mask of pure rage. "Don't think you can scare me, punk," he growled. "I can fix any charge that you punk cops can bring against me." "Of course," grinned the cop. "You've proved that time and again. No, I wasn't thinking of running this through channels. I've arranged for the tape to go directly to your boss in the Mob, if anything happens to me." "Why, you bastard," Larry blustered. "Try to blackmail me, will you?" "Heaven forbid! I mean nothing of the sort. I know far better than that. I'm holding the tape only for protection. I assure you that it is perfectly safe, as long as you're willing to live and let live." "So what's the deal? I know you want something, or you wouldn't be standing here like this." "Actually," said the cop, "I'd like to work for you." "And what do you think that you can do for me? Don't you know that half of the top brass in your department is on my payroll?" "Yes, I'm not surprised", the cop replied. "But I can offer you two things that you will find very useful. First, although you have connections at the top, you may find it useful once in a while to have ears at the foot soldier level. And then there's one other service you might find useful." "Which is . . .?" "One of my duties is to keep an eye on runaway girls who come in every day on the interurban buses. Usually I turn them in to one of the various shelters that are run by churches and other social agencies. But those shelters are woefully overworked, and I'm sure that if you were to organize a shelter for your own purposes . . . It'd be quite easy, really, to set up a shelter that would satisfy me. Just a bit of paper work, that's all." Larry's eyes lighted up. "Now that sounds like a proposition that might do me some good. OK, so how much do you expect to be paid for looking out for the girls' future so carefully?" The cop grinned. "Well, if I suddenly began earning an extra salary of any sizable proportions, it would be pretty hard to account for the money. How about letting me have free access to your Boss's stable of girls -- with the extra proviso that I can play a leading part in the training sessions of any girls I recruit or" (leering at Ellen) "in the disciplining of any runaways that I bring back." "And what sort of training routine do you have in mind?" "Well, I have some ideas, of course, but I expect that I'll get even better ones after I have a look at your facilities. As for little Ellen, let's start out by viewing that film that made such an impression on her earlier tonight. After all, she's already dressed for the part." (The END)
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