Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Author: Maso Slave Cunt
Title: Miss Angela's Home for Girls
Part: Chapter 1
Summary: A young girl is sold away to the most depraved whorehouse ever
built.
Keywords: Mf, ff, bd, best, fist, sad, scat, sm, tort, ds,

   Warning: This story contains or will contain descriptions of underage
sex and sexual slavery, abuse, torture, and neglect.  If any of this
offends you, this is not the story for you.
I was sold to Miss Angela's Home for Girls when I was thirteen years
old. I didn't understand what happened at the time, my mother just told me
that I was going to live with someone else for a while.  I couldn't even
read at that age, I hadn't even gone to school at all.  Being the sixth
child of a single mother who could barely afford to feed us, most of my
life had been spent lying on the floor of a trailer home watching TV all
day.  All I knew was that one day we took the bus out of town to a huge
concrete slab of a building in the industrial district.  I boggled at its
size, it seemed to fill a couple city blocks.  At the door a little window
slid aside and my mother asked for Miss Angela, while I stood, fidgeting

and confused in torn clothes and ratty flip-flops.



   The door heaved open and mother dragged me inside, down a dingy dark
hallway to a dingy dark room, where a harsh light swung gently over a
battered wooden table.  Sitting on the other side of it was the most
beautiful woman I'd ever seen; my mouth dropped open gently.  Her skin was
pale and flawless, her hair pitch black and hanging down well past her
shoulders, her lipstick a pure vibrant red.  Her bust was enormous,
straining at the low cut fishnet and vest combo that she wore, displaying
much of her flesh.  Looking back, they must have been E cup at least.

   The woman said "this is her, I take it?", and mother nodded wordlessly.
The woman pulled a thick wad of cash from under the table and set it down,
and my mother practically lunged forward to grab it.  She sheafed through
it quickly, then turned to me, said "do what she tells you", and walked out
of the room.

   I immediately ran after her, grabbing at her shirt.  "Whats going on? 
Where are you going?  When are we going home?" She brushed my hands off of
her, and I clung again, trying to drag her back.  Suddenly the woman from
before was behind me, grabbing me around the waist and dragging me away.  I
began to scream as my mother walked out the front door and it slammed
behind her, thrashing in her arms.  The woman hauled me back down the hall
and into another door while I was still screaming, tears running down my
cheeks.  She dumped me on the floor and bent down, delivering a sharp slap
to my cheek, eyes cold and expressionless.  I yelped and stopped sobbing,
whimpering a little.

   Looking around, the room I was in now was strikingly different then the
rest of the place.  It seemed rich and luxurious, with a thick carpet on
the floor, a roaring fireplace on one side, and an elegant wooden desk on
the other.  I looked up fearfully at the gorgeous woman towering over me.

   "Stand up!" she barked.  I didn't react, still lost and confused.

   "I said stand up!" she snarled, and grabbed my hair, yanking up.  I
struggled to my feet, lowering my eyes, and squeaked out "why am I here?"

   "You are here, girl, because your mother could no longer support you. 
So now that burden falls to me instead.  This will be your new home." She
began to pace around me, looking me up and down, and I was very conscious
of the fact that I hadn't showered in a few days.

   "When can I go back home?" I asked, and she slapped me again.  I fell
down to my feet and started crying again, and she snapped: "You can't. 
This is your new home.  Get that through your head."

   I tried to curl up, whispering "no no no", thinking that this was all a
nightmare, that I would wake up any moment.

   She grabbed my hair and forced me to my feet again, and then holding me
up this time slapped me once more.  "Stop crying, or you will regret it!" I
did my best to stifle my sobs.

   "Now, take those sandals off your feet and hand them to me" she
insisted, standing with one hand outstretched.  I bent down awkwardly and
obeyed, handing them over.  She held them disdainfully.

   "Pull off your shirt as well," I looked at her in confusion: take it
off, right here, in front of her?  Hesitantly I began to turn around,
reaching down to pull it over, she grabbed my arm and spun me back to her.
"No!  Where I can see you!" I paused, and then pulled it over my head,
handing it to her.  My tits were still small, and we wouldn't have been
able to buy a bra anyway, so they stood bare before her.  She reached out a
hand and ran one fingernail around them briefly, and I shivered.

   "Pants as well, girl." Without hesitation this time I stripped down out
of my jeans, revealing my young pussy, where a few hairs had begun to grow.
I handed them over as well.

   With one motion she took everything I had given her and walked over and
threw it in the fire.  I gasped and ran over, almost reaching into the
flame.  I was completely naked in here with her now, and she grabbed my arm
and pulled me back.

   Knocking on the door on the far wall, she shouted, and a large burly man
walked in.  I blushed bright red and tried to cover myself, and she grabbed
my arms and pushed them down.  "No!" she insisted.

   She spoke to him "put this one on the floor right away, she can pick up
the slack for number 17 today." He nodded briefly, and she turned to me
"and if you tell anyone your name, or that you don't want to be here," she
couched down and met my eyes "we'll kill you."

   I saw hardness there in her eyes, cold and ruthless.  I believed her,
and I nodded, terrified out of my skull.  I had a pretty good idea what was
going to happen to me.

   He grabbed my arm and led me out, walking quickly.  I stumbled over the
rough floor and he ignored, dragging me.  Down several hallways we went
until we reached one that stretched several hundred feet, lined with doors
on either side.  He took me to one halfway down, opened it up, and threw me
inside, slamming it behind him.

   I was lying on a mattress of some kind, in pitch blackness.  Reaching
out, I could feel all four concrete walls just outside the extent of the
pad.  As silence fell, the terror finally got to me, and I curled up naked
in a ball and began to cry.

   Close to an hour later my tears had dried up and I was just lying there
in terror.  It was then that the other door opened, providing a brief flood
of light.  I squinted, trying to see anything, but all I got was a shadowy
figure standing there.  He slammed the door behind him and knelt down
behind me.  I tried to crawl away, but he grabbed my ankles.

   "So, you're the new virgin girl, is that right...?" I got the feeling he
was smiling.  He grabbed both of my legs and dragged me back towards him,
and I began to scream and struggle, knowing what was coming next.  As he
pulled me up against him, I felt something long and hard pressing into my
leg.  He practically lifted me up, and I briefly felt something against my
pussy before he thrust forward.

   I screamed and thought I would pass out from the sudden stab of pain: it
felt like I was being ripped open.  With barely an inch inside he began to
force his way further, pushing up against my hymen.  I was sobbing, begging
him to stop, but he ignored me, impaling me further on his shaft.

   With a ripping feeling he forced himself deeper into my young tight
cunt, and I screamed again.  I could feel something leaking between my
legs, and I knew it was my own blood.  Once he was inside he began to pound
away mercilessly, holding my arms behind his back, each stroke feeling like
I was going to rip apart.  This continued for a good five minutes before
with one grunt he shoved forward as far as he could, and a sudden spray of
something hot filled inside me.  I was just crying by this point, and as he
pulled out and dropped me back onto the mattress, I lay limp and weak.  I
would later come to call him customer #1.

   Over the course of that day five other men came in and used me the same
way, each time ending with that same hot spray.  By the time everything was
done, I could feel the thick liquid oozing from between my legs.  It was
then that the man from before came back in and dragged me out, pulling me
away into the depths of the building.  He ignored anything I said and
shoved me into another room, slamming the door behind him.

   Inside it was cramped and hot, not because it was small, but because
every inch was occupied by someone else.  There were dozens of other naked
girls in there, some as young as me, some looking far far older, and most
of them were collapsed in one great sprawl of flesh on the floor, limbs
entangled, sweaty and asleep.  I picked my way among them and tried to find
somewhere open to lie down, but there was nowhere.  I eventually just
shoved a few people gently aside and lay down, crying softly, stomach
aching from hunger, mouth dry of thirst.  That was my first day at Miss
Angela's.

   Life became routine.  The entire room of girls was awakened each morning
at six am sharp by a spray of ice cold water from the hose, and we were
marched out.  We got one bathroom break right then in the morning, in one
massive grey room where there weren't even any stalls.  I learned to
overcome my embarrassment quickly.  We stood in a line for breakfast and
ate it as we walked along to our stations, always nothing but plain
oatmeal, water, and a small pill.  Dinner was much the same, with the
addition of some tough flavorless jerky and a citrus tablet.  And ever week
our entire bodies were waxed to prevent even the slightest hair from
sprouting.  The pain of that never got any less, and I always screamed.

   We spent every day from seven in the morning to seven at night in the
small dark room, and we usually serviced dozens of men every day.  I still
remember the first time I was taken in the ass; I squealed like a stuck
pig. It took a while for me to willingly give blowjobs, but a few days of
starvation quickly cured me of that.  And my first orgasm is something I'll
never forget.  It just happened one day while I was being taken, and soon I
was able to cum from every fucking.  I began to love my shift, love the
time I spent in the room, love the feel of hot cum gushing into me.  My
periods were torturous because that meant I just lay there alone in the
tiny room all day in the blackness, cramping and in pain.

   I learned from the other girls that there were forty of us crammed into
a small room barely thirty feet by thirty, and that there were three other
batches of girls like us, one on the same shift, and the other two from
seven at night till seven in the morning.  None of us had names anymore,
just numbers, and I learned that I was #137

   Some of the older ones in their mid-twenties had come from a different
place they said.  They said that Misstress Angela had bought everyone until
she ran the only operation like this in the western United States, one
giant warehouse of sex.

   No-one ever talked of escape, and after a few short times I learned not
to either.

   That was my life for the longest time, and after a while I didn't want
to think of anything before it.  I was a slave to each days fuckings, and
the orgasms that they gave me.  Like most girls I began to crave more, and
at the end of the night I engaged with the other girls in a huge lesbian
orgy of kissing and licking and sweat and lust.  I learned to love the
taste of pussy, the feeling of grinding my crotch along another girls leg
as I writhed in pleasure, lost in the tangle of flesh.  My best friend #124
and I fell asleep in each others arms each night, tits mashed together,
cunts wet and tingling.  I began to love my life.  Things began to change
after I turned sixteen though.

   End of Chapter 1
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