April – From Teen to Street Hooker Pt. 04

Literotic asexstories – April – From Teen to Street Hooker Pt. 04 by AprilTwenties,AprilTwenties
A work of fiction.

Chapter 4 – Working My Beat

3 Weeks have passed since I sat down with Martika and signed the contract. Not just any contract. The contract. The contract that gives my full co-operation, that I give myself fully emotionally, physically and sexually over to her control. To her understanding.

I’ve been beaten – physically, emotionally and verbally – into being pulled apart and recreated in her own image. To that end, I’m now a vegetarian. I smoke. I smoke a lot; between 40 and 60 cigarettes a day. I drink. I drink an awful lot; at least a litre of vodka a day. Drugs, I’m not so sure of the quantities – if I’m told to do cocaine, then it’s somewhere in the ballpark of 6-8 grammes. Heroin? I believe, when I’m on that, it’s around 500 mg, street level, as they call it, of course.

I’ve had more sex, so far, than most 18 year old girls have in their whole year. All in 3 weeks.

I have my ‘branding’, on my arse, I dress how Martika wants me. I use language that Martika feels is appropriate. I am created in her very own image.

I wake up at home today, as per usual, with a kick in my back. “Bitch, get up. Today is the fuckin’ day for you.” shouted Martika.

I get up, naked, and pull on my robe. After a quick visit to the toilet, I head downstairs.

Martika is making the toast as I pour out two pint glasses of vodka for us both. Breakfast made, we consume and then, using the downstairs bathroom, powder my nose with a couple of lines of coke.

Good way to start the day.

I light up a cigarette and polish off the remainder of the vodka.

We chat, we smoke, then once we’ve finished our cigarettes I head up to use the shower and get ready. Apparently, it’s another gangbanging for me today, which I’m totally down with, and then getting my shit together to work my beat.

My beat.

My first time on the prostitute stroll. On the game, as they call it.

I’ll have my own patch. Wow…..that thought really is getting me wet. Well….wetter than I am in the shower, anyways.

So, I’m out. Dried. Dressed in a red top, black leather mini skirt, fishnets, heels. Hair done. Jewellery on. Nails painted. Cigarette burning away in the ashtray whilst I put on my makeup. I want to be the best that I can be for tonight.

I head downstairs, to where my owner, Martika, is waiting. She throws me my jacket and we’re off, over to Emma’s house. I could make it there blindfolded, if I needed to, so often had I been.

The guys are there. Pleasantries are made. Bottom’s groped and then we’re down to it. Well….more specifically, I’m down to it. Skirt pulled up, on my back or on all four’s, sexual partner with his penis inside me pumping away hard…fast…..until he stiffens and cums….and is quickly replaced by another….and then another.

Semen, as always, leaks and trickles down my leg, but…whatever. Just normal. I just light up another cigarette as Emma brings in the drinks.

I down my half pint of vodka, do a couple of lines of cocaine and bend over to get taken anally.

Cigarette lit and jacket on, we head back to the house. Martika is happy with how I am doing and acting today. Get in, after picking up Jas from the neighbour and then sit down with a cup of coffee.

As Jas plays outside, Martika shoots me up again and I’m off in the land of nod. Out for the count.

I’m probably out for an hour or so. Martika smiles.

“Right, bitch. We’ve got to get you some rubbers for tonight….”

“Cool, boo.” I answer, but about stirring.

“We’ve got to go to the Chemist and buy ’em, bitch. C’mon…” she says, practically dragging me up by my hand. I’m not quite understanding, I tell her, as she asks the neighbour to look after Jas and Miya for a little bit.

So, jacket on again, out the door, lighting up and walking to the big chemist. It takes around 15 minutes or so, from where Martika lives, and Martika informs me that they come in boxes of 10, and that she expects me to buy two boxes tonight….

“Oh, and don’t think that that’s it. You’ll be buying some tomorrow, the day after, the day after that…and so on. Each night that you’re working, I want them to know what you are.”

So, she hangs around outside whilst I go in, having that scent of the glorious combo of perfume, cigarettes and semen around me, and strut over to the ‘Family Planning’ section, under Martika’s watchful eye. I pick up what I require and then…..join the queue.

God. A bloody queue!

I feel eyes burn into me. I’m wearing my black leather mini, red top, black fishnets, red heels. Lots of jewellery. Like, lots. I look cheap, which is how Martika wants me. I love the look, and what it represents – normally – but stuck in a shop with normal people like this? Highly embarrassing. But then, that’s how Martika wants it.

All part of the deconditioning plan. Get me used to this, just like everything else she has made me do, and at some point I really won’t give a shit. Until then, get used to it bitch.

The queue takes a while and the person on the till is a woman…..and she gives me a ‘look’. Like, she knows what I represent. She knows what I’m gonna be doin’ tonight. Selling myself.

So, I put on a bit of a forced smile as I hand her the cash. She processes it and asks if I want a bag. I tell her that I’m ok and pop the condoms in my handbag – Martika makes me take my tacky, to-be, work handbag – and slowly walk out to the door, where Martika has been watching my every move.

“Nice going, bitch….” she says as she offers me a cigarette on our way back home. Naturally, I accept.

As per routine, I look after the kids as Martika showers, then we swap as she preps our meal.

Mark comes home, we eat, we chat. He wishes me good luck for tonight and Martika and I go upstairs to get dressed and ready for tonight. As we do our faces, we chat.

“Bitch, you fuck anyone that pays. You turn anyone down and I’ll batter you. You chicken out and run off? I’ll find you and I’ll batter you. Got that?”

“I’m not going to chicken out, boo. You’re my owner. I am going to do my best to earn for you tonight, boo. I’m scared and I’m excited. This is what the last 3 weeks have been about, boo.” I tell her.

Right. Almost ready to get going.

“Arm, bitch…” asks Martika as I put my arm out as Martika preps and injects me with the now-familiar heroin. Untying me and, as Martika gets to spend her ‘quality time’ with Mark, I’m stopping the bleeding, pulling down my sleeve and generally getting myself ready for tonight’s adventures.

Martika doesn’t take long and, when she returns she has a smile on her face.

One last toilet break and then she checks my handbag, making sure I have my cigarettes, lighter, lippy, chewing gum, rubbers and a purse (that’s empty) and then she throws me a jacket.

Mark wishes me luck…

And…we’re off. Off to sell myself.

We chat, as we walk and smoke to our spot, and Martika reiterates what is expected of me tonight. That I will have to fuck whoever pays, regardless of how attractive they are or anything like that. That I will use the rubbers that I have for anal or vaginal sex. That I will blow whoever without a rubber and I’ll swallow…and that I will do whatever drugs Martika tells me to.

“Do that, earn for me tonight, and all will be good. Try to run off, I’ll batter you. Turn down a punter, I’ll batter you. Got that, bitch?” she calmly says.

“I won’t, boo. I’m wanting to do this.” I reply.

She shows me off to some of the other girls that I had seen but not had an opportunity to chat with. They seem nice. She introduces me as “..this is April. It’s her first night out hooking. This is the bitch I’m running…”

We chat. Some of them – Carla – has only been hooking a few weeks. Jessica has been out for 10 years. Kat, another girl, has been out hooking for so long that she knows Martika’s mum, Samantha.

“Right. Here’s your fuckin’ patch, bitch. I’m watching you. It’s £20 for oral, £40 for a fuck and £60 for anal. Got that?” I nod. “Good, now, do a good job or I WILL fuckin’ kick the shit out of you. Don’t forget that.” she reiterates.

It’s not long before a guy sidles up to me and asks if “…I’m working.” I reply that I am and reel off my prices. He suggests a blow job and gives me the £20. I pop it in my bag, put my arm around his waist and take him down the alleyway behind me.

He stands in front of me and I’m with my back against the wall, lowering myself on to my knees. Head at groin height. I help to unzip his fly, grab into his boxer’s and pull out his penis. I stroke it, just like Martika has taught me to do.

I lick the tip, down one side….then the other….then slowly swirl my tongue….and then start sucking…slowly…then harder and harder. My hands on his thighs, squeezing them occasionally….I blow him and look into his eyes as he stares down at me, mouth semi open, groaning… moaning….as I feel him twitch in my mouth and eventually cum. I swallowed. I swallowed with pride.

I had serviced my first punter….and I didn’t even know his name!

Didn’t care actually; cock is cock, right, boo?

Martika wasn’t around when I got back. Pity.

I’d just lit up a cigarette when this punter turned up, on foot, and wanted sex. So I took him also down the alleyway for a fuck. I slipped the money in my bag and walked him down. I lay against the wall and shimmied up my leather miniskirt. Then, I unzipped my punter and pulled out his cock, slipping on a rubber, as I braced myself for him to enter me.

My young sex partner – dark hair, asian, fairly tall – eased himself into me as I took a drag of my cigarette and dangled my arms around his neck. He bangs me hard, lifting me onto my toes. I intermittently take drags of my cigarette, blowing the smoke over my shoulder, as he pumps me. Again, grunts and groans.

“C’mon, boo. Lay this bitch…” I whisper in his ear, flicking my cigarette butt to the floor.

He lets out a groan and shudders inside of me.

“That was fantastic…” he says, pulling out and then pulling the condom off his now flaccid penis.

“Thanks, boo. You were hot, babe…” I exclaim “Hope to see you again, boo..” I sign off.

I head out onto the street and see Martika. She sees the guy leaving and smiles. She offers me a cigarette, and lights me up before telling me to do some coke with her, down the alleyway. Which, of course, I dutifully do. Both nostrils. Then, back on the street.

Martika gets picked up by a regular of her and I pretty soon have a car driver sidle up beside me. I stroll over, my best sexy walk, stoop over his open window and do my thing.

“Hey boo, wassup? You fancy doing somethin’ together?” I ask, chewing my gum.

“Sure. I’d like to fuck you…” he says.

“Well, I’d like to fuck you too, boo, but this ‘lil bitch here needs some coin, y’know?”

“How much?”

“For a fuck? I’m £40 and I’m good, boo.” I say.

“Yeah. I bet. Ok….” and he hands me the cash. Once again, in my purse, in my handbag I deposit it, then strut around the front of the car and get in the passenger’s side. Looking in the mirror, I admire just how hot I look and just how I am taking to this all.

I’ve exceeded my expectations and more.

We drive off. I give him directions to the car park that the hooker’s use and that I’ve seen Martika taking punters to. We park up. I get into the back….he pull down his jeans, puts on the rubber that I give him and then we fuck.

I feel so much like a prostitute when he’s having me like this.

My hands caressing his back, my bangles clanking, as he fucks me, like a piston, hard and fast. It can’t be more than 10 minutes before he’s cum.

I feel moist myself, from all the lubrication, as he pulls his sheathed penis out of me.

He gets off me, pulls up his trousers, and gets back in the driver’s seat. I pull my skirt down and do likewise into the passenger’s, touching up my lipstick. There. Looking hot again.

I’m back, hanging around with Emma, chatting and smoking for a little while, then it’s another punter. This one want’s anal, so he gets anal. I finish up with him, do another in a car for a blowjob, then out, shooting up some heroin with Martika, another anal, a few more fucks and then I get another break between punters.

I’m flying high, boo…like, soaring, y’know? I’ve no fuckin’ idea how many more cars I get in and out of, Martika has helped to make me into a purely sexual being. I never once asked who any of my sexual partners were, nor have I bothered to argue about how much drink and drugs I have been regularly taking.

This is my life, these days.

End of the night comes. It’s just after 1am when we finally finish up. I’ve just finished my last blowjob of the night and I’m counting out my earnings. Excitedly, I’ve made over £500 for my owner tonight.

I dutifully give it to Martika, who smiles, says “Well done bitch..” and offers me a cigarette and we walk, linking arms together, back home.

Life is good.

“So, you’ve experienced being a prossie. You’ve done more than experience it. You are living it. This is not a fuckin’ ‘dip in and out’ shit, this is it for life. You’re all in. I own you. I pimp you. You do what the fuck I tell you to do. Your life is my life? Got that, bitch?”

I smile.

Back home, Martika fixes me a glass of Vodka and, Mark is up and awake too. We chat about the night and of how I was about it all, right now. I tell them that I was elated. Excited. That I had found my niche. That I felt so ‘..damn sexy, boo..’ after undergoing it.

Both Mark and Martika smile.

She asks if the training helped. I totally agreed that it did. I felt like a prossie before I was even out streetwalking, but now that I that first night under my garter belt? I totally get it.

She tells me to go to bed, after a hug, and I carefully put my clothes on the chair by my bed. I can’t really sleep so I just masturbate myself to sleep just as I can hear Martika getting her rocks off with Mark next door.

End of Pt 4