SLIPPING INTO DEPRAVITY - Ch. 06, Kayley's Dark Path

KAYLEY TAKES A TURN DOWN A DARK PATH, PART ONE OF THREE

"You want to go get a drink," Leroy asked. "Give me an hour or two, and I'll have enough gas in the tank for another run."

What had I been thinking?

KAYLEY POV

"You want to go get a drink," Leroy asked. "Give me an hour or two, and I'll have enough gas in the tank for another run."

What had I been even thinking in the first place, with this guy? His semen was running down my leg. Absently, I wiped it with the hem of my dress. Yeah, that would leave a stain, but so what.

We walked out of the bathroom, into the bar. Maybe it was my imagination, but it felt like the ripple of bar babble quieted briefly for us, and that at least a few eyes checked out my new, just fucked really hard, look.

There was no sign of Sam. Good. We sat at an empty table, maybe the one Sam had vacated.

My stomach hurt a little bit, but I felt surprisingly good. Energetic even. The temporary exhaustion of shattering orgasms had dissipated. I felt invigorated, almost frisky.

"You know," I said. "I almost feel like I could go back for another round."

He grinned that sleazy knowing grin, his gaze sliding across my body like I'd oiled up for him. My nipples hardened. There was a wet spot on the seat, probably from his come leaking out of me. He might be a loser, but he had a sexy thing going on.

"You know," Leroy said, "I'm down for at least an hour. But I could probably arrange a few trips to the men's room for you."

"Really?" I asked.

The idea sent butterflies racing through my stomach. The notion was disgusting. I glanced around the bar, to see who, if anyone, was watching us. What the men were. I imagined walking into the men's room over and over again, each time with a different man, taking off my dress and being nude, or being fucked in it, being looked at, touched, bent over the toilet, or sitting on the sink, or up against the wall or the urinals, taken from behind, kneeling. I could feel my soaked pussy clenching, my heart rate picking up. My mouth was a little dry.

"Who?" I couldn't stop myself from asking.

Again, that sleazy grin. He shrugged elaborately and leaned forward, his eye seemed to fix on someone over my shoulder.

"No!" I said suddenly. I wanted to turn and see who he was looking at, who he might pick to fuck me. At the same time, I didn't want to see. I wanted and didn't want. "I have an Uber coming."

"You can cancel it," he said easily.

"Yeah," I said. "But no. I don't think I will."

He shrugged.

"Just a thought."

I was shocked that I had thought of it, even if only for a moment. I decided not to mention this thought to Sam.

My text message beeped.

Sam.

I picked up the phone.

"Delay."

"What?" I texted back.

The three dots of text typing flickered in and out. To hell with this, I thought.

"Excuse me," I said to Leroy, as I stood up and moved away from the table. I needed to find a quieter place in the bar. "I need to make a call."

Easier said than done. I retreated to the hall for the washrooms, and then behind the women's washroom door. I'd been here before. Maybe I should have done it here, it was cleaner, than the men's room, there was a small bench, and the vanity for the sink looked solid. But that was a passing thought. I dialed into Sam.

"Hey hon," I said. "What's wrong."

"You know that low tire, we keep having to pump air into?"

His voice sounded odd. Maybe frustrated.

"Yeah."

"It's flat. I've called auto-service, but it's going to be at least an hour's wait for them to come and fix it."

"Oh shit," I said. Fuck, I thought, I really needed to get out of here. "Well, you're just outside. I'll come and wait with you."

"No good," he said. "When I saw how low it was, coming back out, I figured I needed to get to a gas station and pump some more air in. But by the time I got here, it was completely flat. I've been trying to pump air in, but it just hisses out. I'm stuck out here."

"How far?" I asked.

"I don't know, two or three miles."

Too far to walk, even if I knew where it was. And definitely, it was the kind of rough neighborhood I didn't want to walk at night. Especially not looking as trashed as I was. Walking the street, I wouldn't just look like a hooker. I'd look like a low cost hooker.

"I don't think you should walk it," he said. "I'll be okay. I just need to look after the car."

"Okay," I said.

"You can wait for me," he said. "Of course, by that time your new boyfriend should be ready for round two. Or you can take an uber."

There was an edge in the way he said 'new boyfriend' and 'round two.' Had listening in gotten too real? Was it that I'd actually came this time. Or the ugly things Leroy had forced me to say about him. I winced at the memory.

"Sam," I said, "it was just sex talk, okay. It didn't mean anything."

A pause.

"Yeah," he said, forcing cheer into his voice. "I know. He's just hung, that's all. And stuff."

What did that mean?

"I'll take an uber," I said.

"Sounds good," he said. "Meet you back at the apartment... Sooner or later."

"Love you."

"Love you too."

I pulled up the Uber app, and tried to initialize. It came back no cars available in the area. What the hell? I tried again. Same thing. And tried again. Each time, the message was no cars available, please try later.

I texted Sam again.

"Can you try your App? I can't get a car on mine. Something's wrong with it."

"Hold on."

While I waited, I tried the App again. Nothing.

"It's not working," he reported back. "No cars available. Not even a time estimate, just no cars. And a 'try in a little bit.'"

"I get the same thing," I texted.

A pause.

"I guess wait fifteen minutes and try again. That's all. Or wait until I'm fixed, and can come for you."

"I'll wait and try again. If I get through I'll let you know." I texted.

"Okay."

I sent a heart emoji.

Fuck! Okay, I was stuck out here for at least twenty minutes, looking like a trashed out hooker, in a bar where apparently I had probably become well known as the men's room slut, and half of them probably knew I'd just gotten railed hard. Totally awkward.

I went to the mirror and ran some water, appraising myself more critically. The big wet spot on my dress was drying, and a small safety pin from the bottom of my purse took care of the worst tear in my dress, ensuring my breast wouldn't fall out. The sexy slit up the side of my dress had extended to a tear going up past my hip, it changed the way the dress clung to me, and definitely made very clear that I wasn't wearing underwear, or even a garter belt - but it was tolerable, and I'd only found the one safety pin.

I wiped around my eyes and reapplied a very light mascara, fixed my eyeliner, redid my lipstick, and brushed my hair. Appraising the result in the mirror, it was far from perfect, but it was serviceable. I checked my phone. Only five minutes? Fuck. Tried the App. No luck.

So, I could hide in here, until the App was working or Sam made it. Or I could go out there and maybe have a drink while I waited, and Leroy tried to talk me into getting shared with some of his friends.

I felt a sudden lightening sensation in the pit of my stomach, not butterflies, but something, at the thought. Almost concurrently, I felt a tingle in my clit. My hand slid down through the tear/slit in my dress, to stroke my pussy. My vagina was now a lot more open access than I technically liked.

The insides of my thighs were soaked, my lips wet and puffy, although I wasn't sure if that was current arousal or the after effects. I'd wiped myself down there, but he'd seriously pumped a lot of semen, and even if I'd wiped most of it, some was still oozing in me.

I thought about the way Leroy'd looked past me at someone when he made his suggestion. Maybe I should have looked to see.

Down girl! I thought. Go out there, get a drink, wait it out. No getting shared. Big tingle at the thought. No round two. Little tingle. Just chill and wait it out. No tingles allowed.

I took a breath and went out. There was a man standing in the hallway, South Asian, or East Indian, I wasn't sure the appropriate term. Pakistani? Hindu? Bangladeshi? Somewhere around there. He looked harmless enough. He looked at me, I looked at him, and we nodded as we walked past.

Leroy waved, as I sat down with him.

"Problem?"

"My uber is delayed," I said. "At least an hour. And I can't raise another one."

He shrugged.

"I'm surprised you got one at all, actually," he told me. "This area's a no-go zone after nine. A driver got jumped around here a few weeks ago."

I checked my phone. Nine twenty. I did a mental calculation backwards. Fuck me, I'd missed by minutes.

"So," he smiled, "you give any thought to..."

"Yes," I said, "and no, I'm not interested. I just want to sit here and wait. And maybe have a drink."

"Well," he said, "too bad. But I can take care of the drink for you. Cabernet, coming right up."

He headed over to the bar to place the order. I watched him walk away. Nice ass, not as good as Sam's, but nice. Muscular but not excessive. He moved with a smooth grace that let you know he'd be good at fucking, which I already knew.

I hoped that no one would try to join me now that he'd left the table. I glanced around in the direction he'd been looking, but no one met my eye and I couldn't spot his candidate, or candidates, to fuck me. It was just bar people, different ages, different looks, that was all. None of them really stood out or appealed to me.

Leroy returned with a wine glass and a fourteen ounce snifter, and poured. I took the glass and drank half of it in two swallows. As the wine hit my stomach and a warm glow started to spread, I relaxed. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

"Were you really a sommelier?" I asked, just to have something to say. I didn't believe it for a second, but saying something was better than nothing.

"Yep," he replied. "For a while. I was a sous chef, an assistant before that, but I switched. I've been around restaurants here and there."

Bullshit, I thought, as I smiled at him. "A sous chef," I said. "That sounds interesting."

"An assistant," he corrected.

I couldn't imagine that.

"I find that hard to imagine," I said. Shit, I'd said the thought out loud. Watch the wine, Kayley. "I hope that I didn't offend."

He laughed.

"No," he said. "In the end, it wasn't for me."

"What do you do now?"

He shrugged, evading the question. "I've been around," he said. "I've done a bunch of things. I was a cowboy. Traveled a bit. Musician...."

I didn't believe any of it, but it gave us something to talk about.

"Anyway," I asked suddenly, "who was it that you were thinking of lining me up with?"

I was well into my second glass of wine, and feeling comfortable. I'd never stopped feeling curious. There just didn't seem any harm in asking. I took out my phone, unconsciously, and checked the app. Nothing. Fuck. And nothing from Sam, still waiting, I guess. I thought about texting him some heart emojis, just to let him know I was thinking about him.

"Jake," Leroy said.

I looked up. "Who is Jake?"

"That big guy over there," Leroy told me. He pointed. I looked, not being particularly careful. There were a few guys clustered around tables in those directions.

"Which one is he?" I asked.

"The big guy," Leroy repeated. He waved. "Flannel jacket."

"Oh," I said, "I see him now."

Jake noticed the wave, and looked right at us. He was tall, a little heavy, but not bulky, with a shock of curly brown hair, cut close to the sides. He had one of those bodies that looked like they grew too fast when they were young, and filled in, but never quite got past the ungainly awkwardness. He waved back.

Then he got up and started heading our way. Fuck. He was carrying his beer. Double fuck. That meant he intended to sit down with us. My heart started to race. My mouth was going dry, so I sipped the wine, and clutched the slit in my dress where it had become a tear, to maintain at least a little modesty.

"Hey Jake," Leroy said, "join us. This is Kayley. Kayley, Jake."

Jake was huge, at least six four. Older, I made him to be in his forties or fifties. There was a wedding band. Probably had kids. He seemed stable. I wondered how he knew Leroy. He reached for my hand. I wasn't letting go my dress, so I put down the wine glass and offered the wrong hand. He shook it gravely.

"I've seen you around," he said. "A few times."

"Thanks," I said, like an idiot, and followed it up with, "Okay." I was blushing madly, and between my legs a traitorous excitement. He'd seen me around here a few times? Well, given that I'd only been here three times, and each time had ended with me going to the men's room with a man I'd just met, I could only imagine what was going through his mind.

"Jake's a diesel mechanic," Leroy told me. Jake nodded affirmatively. "Kayley was telling me how much she wanted to meet you."

Wait, what, now? What the fuck? That was such a bold faced lie. I didn't even know who he was until Leroy waved at him. Now he was sitting here. I had no idea what to do, so I smiled and nodded.

"That's good. I've been wanting to say hello," Jake said. He looked at me. "Get to know you a bit."

"Oh," I said, blushing, smiling. "That's nice."

Awkwardly, I pressed my legs together, and then, self consciously, relaxed. Leroy put his hand on my knee, casually pushing so I parted a little. Jake's eyes drifted down.

"You know," Leroy said, "you guys have so much in common. It makes me happy to put you together."

"How old is she," Jake asked Leroy.

"I'm twenty-four," I replied.

"Kayley's very friendly," Leroy assured him. "Very easy to get along with."

Jake glanced at me and nodded. "That's not too young. Okay."

Jake took out his wallet, peeled out some bills.

"For what I owe you," he told Leroy, handing the money over. "For that thing, from a while back."

"Thanks," said Leroy, pocketing it.

Wait a second, I thought. What thing? Was there a thing a while back? Money had changed hands right in front of me. What for? Leroy's hand pushed my dress up my thigh, to the tops of my stocking. He reached down, grabbing the hand I was holding the slit together with. As he took my hand in his, the fabric hung loose, the gap showing my hip from the top of my stocking to just short of my ribs, the absence of panty prominent.

"Kayley's a fine girl," he told Jake. "Very friendly. You're going to like her. And she's clean too. You won't need a condom."

What the fuck? How was this happening? I reached for my wine glass, leaning forward, conscious of their eyes on me. The slit in my dress gaped wider, exposing more of me, but I didn't care. I swallowed the rest of the drink.

Leroy pulled me closer, I looked at him. He kissed me, his lips pressing mine apart, his tongue slipping lightly to tease. He stared into my eyes.

"Kayley," he said. "I want you to go to the Men's room with Jake, and help him out. Okay? You need to take care of him. Okay?"

I shivered. It felt, somehow, like 'no' wasn't an option. Technically, I could say the word, theoretically, I could refuse. But right there, in that moment, with Leroy's hands on me, his kiss fresh on my lips, Jake sitting there watching and expectant, having paid his money...

"Okay," I repeated, dully. Leroy sort of gave me a nudge, lifting my elbow, guiding me to a standing position, and turning me towards Jake.

"Off you guys go," he said. "Have fun."

What am I doing? I thought wildly, as I walked the short distance to the Men's room with Jake's looming presence beside me. Had I just been sold? I had. I had just been sold. My body felt weightless, disconnected from my mind, moving on its own. Where was my purse? Oh geez, I'd left it with Leroy. Fuck.

Jake held the door open for me, and then I was in the men's room again. I looked up at him. I had no idea what to do. Was I supposed to kiss him?

"So," I said, "you come here often?"

Oh fuck! Did I just say that? He was going to think I was defective.

Jake shrugged.

"It's a nice bar."

Showed what his standards were.

"Okay," I agreed.

"Can I touch you?"

"Sure?" I told him.

His hands reached for my breasts, as I backed against the toilet stall door, leaning against it. My dress was loose enough that he had my breasts out, playing with the nipples, as I looked down on them, watching his hands.

"Are they real?"

I didn't know whether to be flattered or insulted.

"Yes, they are."

"I like real breasts."

He lifted my skirt, exposing my pussy.

"Are you shaved?" He asked.

"Yes," I said. "Do you want to touch it?"

I guided his hand between my legs, I felt like he was going to go there anyway, but at least this way, I had some control, rather than him just pawing me. Would he feel the slickness between my lips and be repulsed by the thought of touching Leroy's come. Would he even know what it was?

"You're really wet," he whispered, as I guided his hand up and down gently over my pussy. His free hand fondled my breasts. I reached for his pants, stroking his erection through his trousers.

"Can I see you naked?"

"Okay," I replied. I pushed him away a little, and shimmied out of my dress.

"You're gorgeous," he told me. "Your body is amazing."

I couldn't help smiling. "Thank you."

"Can I take a picture?"

That surprised me. My impulse was to say no. But I was alone, naked with a six foot four behemoth and no idea what to do. I couldn't think of a good reason to refuse.

"Okay, sure," I said tentatively. He took out his smartphone and clicked.

"Smile for this one...."

"Okay, hands over your head, no not like that, like behind, hands in your hair, like you're lifting it, good."

"I want you to cup your breasts, no don't cover your nipples..."

"A good shot of your pussy, up close... spread your lips."

"Turn around, I want your back."

"Okay, stick your ass out..."

"Pull your cheeks apart so I can see your asshole." I balked at that one.

"That's enough," I said, turning around. "We should... let's just get down to..."

I had no idea what he wanted. Sex, yes, for sure. But what kind of sex did he want, what did he want from it. Maybe just ask him?

"What do you want to do?"

"A blow job," he said, "to start off. Then I'd like to fuck you."

I thought about that.

"What if you come from the blow job?"

He shrugged. "That will be okay. But I don't want you to try too hard to make me come from the blow job. I want to come in your pussy. You're clean right? Leroy said you were."

"I'm clean," I said. "How do you know Leroy."

"I know him from the bar," I see him there. "I buy grass from him now and then. I don't really know him though."

I wasn't surprised.

"All right," I said. "So the blow job, come in."

I opened the toilet stall door, and backed in, sitting on the toilet. He followed me in. I reached for his cock in his trousers, unzipping him while he undid his belt.

"Not like that," he said, pulling away, even as his cock sprung free. It was straight, and thick, uncircumcized and veiny. His pubic hair was thick, but nondescript. I looked up, confused, letting my hand drop away.

"What?" I was honestly puzzled.

"Not sitting on the toilet," he said. "That's a gross way to give a blow job. It's not hygienic."

"Oh."

"You should be on your knees. When women suck cocks, they should always be kneeling."

I was pretty sure that wasn't actually a rule. Like it wasn't written down anywhere. But he'd paid for me, which was a really fucked up thought, but there it was. And, I'm a petite naked chick, and he's a big fully clothed behemoth, who so far hadn't gone psycho, and I definitely didn't want him too.

"Right, I'll kneel," I replied, looking at the floor in front of the toilet. It was hard tiles, not fun to kneel on, and pretty gross. I wished I had a pad, or newspaper. But all I had was my dress, so I bundled it to kneel on. I looked up from my kneeling position, as he stepped forward.

Jake reached for my head, placing one hand on the back, and then moving it to the side as he placed his second hand. The grip wasn't tight though, and he didn't thrust into my mouth. He let me open wide and take it in, as he guided my head back and forth. There was no teasing, no exotic tricks with my tongue. He just put his cock in my mouth, and I did my best to suck it, bobbing my head back and forth, squeezing it between my lips, and trying to slurp it with my tongue.

After a minute, he took his hands off and grabbed the tops of the stall walls, almost suspending himself. I kept bobbing, one hand gripping the base of his shaft, the other playing with his balls.

"That's really good," he whispered. "You're a really good cock sucker, I can tell. Girls who love to suck cocks, you can tell the difference. I'd love to come in your mouth sometime. I bet you swallow."

I tried to make agreeing noises in my throat. Actually, I did like sucking cock, the right cock. But this was... uninspired. Not awful or unpleasant, just kind of a nothing. But he seemed to like it. I guess this was his idea of a great blow job.

Jake showed no sign of losing control, so I just knelt there and bobbed my head. I changed things up a little to experiment, stroking the inside of his thigh with my nails, or picking up the temp. His cock got harder in my mouth, but not that much. He'd already been hard.

"Okay, that's enough," he said. "I want to fuck you now."

"All right." I was still wet, so I thought it would be okay. I felt a weird kind of arousal, not so much from being with Jake, but from the realization that I had been bought and sold. I stood up and turned around, folding my arms and resting them on the toilet tank. I wiggled my ass.

"You like what you see?" I asked.

"Oh yeah," he breathed.

"Then come and fuck me with that big cock of yours, I need a good fucking."

I like talking dirty.

He stepped behind me, awkward because his trousers were around his ankles. With one hand, he grabbed my ass. The other, he used to line up his cock. By twisting my head around, I could just see him vaguely in peripheral vison.

"That pussy is so wet," I husked. "Waiting for you."

He pushed it in me. I wasn't as crazy wet as I'd been with Leroy, so he felt bigger, and because he was so much taller, his cock, when it went in me, angled down in a way that was surprisingly, intensely pleasurable.

"Fuck!" I cried out. "That cock feels good!"

It wasn't quite acting, it really did feel good, and I really was surprised. As fucked up as the situation was, I was wet, his cock was hard, and there was something bizarre and exciting.

"Your pussy feels really tight."

"Oh yeah," I agreed. "Now fuck it, fuck my tight little pussy with that big hard cock!"

But he was already thrusting hard, his hands on my hips, plunging deep and down with ever push. I moaned in genuine pleasure, feeling my heart racing, my knees trembling. My arousal built with each thrust. My breasts swayed back and forth. His fingers dug into my hips. It built up and built up.

Then he stopped, still buried in me. He was grunting.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm almost ready to come," he said, pulling out. "But I don't want to come this way. I want to see you when I come in you."

Oh for fuck's sake. I was sort of getting into it. He turned me around, pushing me back gently, until my ass was up on the toilet tank. I felt cool porcelain on my butt.

"I don't think this is going to work," I told him. "We tried..."

"Hold on," he said. He reached down hooking an elbow under one knee and lifted. I grunted, as for a moment, I felt like a wishbone. I could feel my pussy suddenly gaping wide. Then he got his other elbow under my other knee, and suddenly I was literally suspended, ass perched on the toilet tank, practically bent double. He pulled my hips forward, until they were literally at the edge of the lid, and moved his hips forward, straddling the toilet bowl.

"Holy shit!" I was astonished. This is what sex with really big guys is like I guess. They literally can pick you up and turn you into a human pretzel. It was exciting and disorienting. Suddenly, I couldn't move, my knees were up in the air, hooked over his elbows, my feet were dangling, I was spread wide open, so I could feel myself gaping between my legs. My pussy was wide open and presented for mounting.

With one surge of his hips, he thrust up into me, bottoming out, and making me cry out with breathless pressure. He grunted as he pumped up into me.

"Oh fuck!" I moaned. "Oh fuck! Your cock feels so big."

With each thrust, I could feel my whole body rock and lift as he rammed up into me. My shoulders and head were slammed against the wall behind. His cock fell out, and he just pulled back and rammed in again, making me cry out.

"Oh fuck," I grunted. He was fucking so hard it was almost hard to breath. I kept trying to time my breaths to his rapid thrusts, panting at a dizzying rate. But he kept knocking the breath out of me.

Jake was barreling towards orgasm, I could feel the heat bursting off his body as his frenzied pounding ramped up. His cock felt bigger in me, hotter, harder.

"Yes," I cried my own orgasm closing in. "Fuck. Fuck me. Come in me. I need--"

Then it hit him, I practically saw his eyes roll up. Suddenly, he was pushing into me like a freight train, all his weight and muscle flattening me against the wall, contorting me even further, as his cock swelled and shot rope after rope of viscous semen up inside me. Teeth clenched, his face a rictus of contorted muscle, made this roaring noise in his throat, pumping into me with spastic jerks, trying to achieve a few more millimeters of penetration.

Finally, he relaxed, but he didn't let go. He held me in place as he panted and came down, our bodies jammed together so hard, I couldn't even get my fingers in to reach my clit if I wanted to.

My orgasm had been so close. Now it hovered, dissolving slowly into this sort of wet generalized arousal, a pressing mindless need to be fucked, even after the hard cock inside me, slowly softened and shrank with each tick of a second.

"Oh fuck," he whispered. "You're a good whore. You're a real piece of ass. Fuck. Good cocksucker, tight pussy, hot bod, clean. Worth it. Any time you're around, I'm going to have you again."

There it was. Said out loud, it was official, no pretending, no denial. Whore. That's what I was now. My body, my cunt, sold for money, sold for use. It was a weird feeling. I knew I wasn't going to start walking the street.

But at the same time there it was.

"How much?"

"Eh?"

"How much did you pay?"

"Oh, fifty bucks."

I didn't even know if that was good or bad.

He grunted, lowering me. I felt my weight settle on the toilet tank lid. He sank down, sitting reverse cowgirl on the toilet seat, letting my knees lower, slipping his elbows from under. I felt very stretched out and cramped all at once. Up inside, I felt the sensation of his cum oozing rapidly inside me as my position shifted.

"Here," I said awkwardly, "can you let me out?"

He backed away in the stall, and pulled up his pants, handing me my dress which was now even dirtier and more mangled, with a fresh rip.

I felt jangly, I guess being contorted into a pretzel does that to you. It was like my limbs didn't feel right, my walk was loose and almost bouncy. My pussy, leaking cum again, felt funny. We walked out of the Men's room, and he want back to his buddies, I guessed.

I sat down at Leroy's table, that was where my purse was. He was sitting with a young man. As I sat, he put his hand up my skirt, gripping the smooth bare skin of my thigh just below my pussy, and kissed me hard. Horny, disoriented, I kissed back, our tongues meeting. He stroked my pussy, already sensitive, bringing a sigh.

"Good girl," he called me.

My lover, though there was no love in the fucking he gave me, the fucking I seemed to crave from him. Or in the way he'd turned me out. But what better word for him.

My pimp. The man who turned me out. Who sold me to a stranger. Who I fucked a complete stranger twice my age for. There was an awful psychic gravity to it, a dark delicious pull. Whore. Pimp. As awful as it was, there was a thrill, an excitement, even if it was a game.

"Kayley," he addressed me, "this is Byron. I've been telling him about you."

I looked at Byron, knowing two things without a doubt: That he had paid Leroy money to fuck me, and that he was going to fuck me. Or I was going to fuck him, because now I was Leroy's whore, and he was going to order me, because he was my pimp.

It was that simple.

And I wanted it. I was feeling fresh fucked, and horny and I'd almost come but hadn't been able to get there. So if letting... what was his name? Brian? Letting Brian put his cock in and fuck me till he coated my insides with his cum, was what it would take to get me my orgasm....

Well then,... Ryan? Yeah, Ryan. Come fuck the shit out of me.

While Leroy was talking about how I was a fuck machine, and how clean I was so you could rawdog me if you wanted, Ryan was glancing at the torn slit in my skirt, where it went up so that you could see I wasn't wearing panties. He was sneaking peaks, looking when he thought he was getting away with it, and back to me and Leroy when he thought I couldn't.

"Ryan." I caught his eye. I glanced down, directing his gaze to my the bare skin between the slit, very deliberately, I slowly pulled the fabric away exposing more and more of my stocking clad leg, my smooth hip and torso, until my crotch was bare. Sitting as I was, he couldn't see my pussy, but he could see I was shaved smooth and covered by nothing at all. I enjoyed the way his face turned red. Fucker, I thought.

"I think," Leroy said, "that your new friend is sold. Why don't you take him back to the men's room and--"

I put my head close to him to whisper.

"You're selling me," I accused Leroy, without anger.

"I wouldn't put it that way," he said.

"I'm not mad," I said, which was true. "I don't know, it's hot I guess." Which was a simplification of some very complicated feelings.

"It's more of a finders fee," he told me. "You like to be fucked. You came here to be fucked... You came here, all alone, behind your boyfriend's back, to slum around and get fucked, isn't that right? A girl like you? This place is beneath her."

That startled me, and it stung. Did I really come off that condescending and shallow? I wondered. I didn't like to think of myself like that. But there was enough of something like truth in it, that it made me uncomfortable.

"This is the third time you've been here," he whispered, "sneaking around on your boyfriend, spreading your legs for me, and when I wasn't here, you spread them for Derek. You didn't fucking know either one of us, but you spread them. Who's fucking fooling who?"

He reached down casually to my stockinged leg as he spoke, laying his hand on it, and smoothly sliding down to the inside of my thigh and up towards my crotch. Automatically, I opened for him, lifting my knee, moving my hips to give him access.

"It's not--" I tried to whisper. It was like that, but it wasn't. It was more complicated, but the words died.

Ian's eyes went wide, as my pussy was exposed for a brief moment, before Leroy's fingertips slid over it. I moaned, as he stroked my clit. Fuck! Every time he touched me below, I just went weak at the knees.

"You're so fucking wet," Leroy whispered. "That's what you want, isn't it? To be down in the gutter, with the trash. That's what gets you off.

A finger slid inside, almost at my G-spot, I rocked my hips.

I moaned softly, not trusting words.

"I just dangled it in front of you, and ten minutes later, you wanted to see who I'd sell you to. I took money for you, right in front of you, and you went and fucked him. You didn't even complain, you just did as you were told."

He kissed my cheek.

"You're a whore, darling," he whispered. "That's what you wanted. Maybe you didn't come here as a whore. You gave me your pussy, you just handed it over. And when I talked selling it, your only real question was 'who?' You were just fine with getting turned out.

"Jesus," I breathed. Two fingers were in me, stroking my G-spot, while he pressed his thumb against my clit.

"Look at how fucking wet you are,"

"Hey," I whispered. "Shit."

"A little finder's fee," he said. "To give you what you need, that's nothing. Makes it even hotter for you. You want me to sell you. Deep down, you need it."

I moaned. He put his lips on mine and kissed me deeply.

"Now," Leroy said, "here's how it's going to be. I'll take money for you. You'll fuck who I'll tell you to fuck. And you'll like it. Because you want it. Got it?"

"Yes." I nodded in affirmative.

"Am I wrong?"

"No, I want it."

"Good girl," he said. "And when we're done, I'll send you back to your life, and everything goes back the way it was. Except deep down, you and I both know who you really are. Deal?"

I nodded. He smiled.

"Say it."

"Deal," I whispered.

"So what are you going to do?"

The fingers withdrew, leaving me shaking and breathless, but lucid. It was dark, but there was an undertow of wicked excitement, of abject submission, of a kind of black fulfilment. It was an ultimate abnegation of me as a person, and I found I craved it.

I wanted to know who and what I was, when I had been reduced to this pure essence. I needed to know who I was, when this was all that was left of me. When there was nothing else to me but a whore.

Just like that, I had transitioned from free woman to income earning property.

At least temporarily. Unless it really was who I was, what I needed. And I came crawling back to him.

The thought made me shiver.

I embraced it.

I swallowed, and licked my lips and smiled darkly.

"I'm going to make you a lot of money," I whispered, and opened my mouth to kiss him, letting his tongue slip in. "And I'm going to do what I'm told."

He grinned his sleazy grin.

"If you get knocked up tonight, you better hope whoever did it was white. Or you're going to have a lot of explaining to do to your boyfriend."

He looked over at Ian.

"Our girl here," he said, "she was telling me how bad she needs a cock. Why don't you let her take you to the men's room and help her out."