Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Wendy's Initiation by whippedwendy @yahoo.com Pedo romance gang rape forced
prost forced bestiality extreme torture.  All the usual, this is fantasy
folks.  Get real

   I was twelve.  Yeah, I know that's no big deal, to most people.  We've
all been twelve at one time or another, but it was a big deal to me.  For
that matter, if you had seen me at twelve, you might have thought it was a
big deal too.  I have since learned that the term for me at twelve was a
"Lolita".  But I was just on the verge of knowing that at the time.

   I was born in Missouri.  My father is Baptist minister and my mother is
a, a, schoolteacher.  I hesitated on that, because our dining room was the
school, and my two brothers and I were the only students.  Twelve was a
really big deal to me because it was when my parents trusted that they had
sufficiently instilled their values into us, and we were allowed to attend
public school.

   I have to admit, that while very, very excited to get off the farm, I
was more than a little scared.  One side of me thought if I had to spend
another few years there, alone, I would just die.  But my few encounters
with the city, while restricted to sitting in the back seat of my father's
car, were frightening.  I had never seen more people in one place than
would fit in my father's church.  We lived in a tiny town about
seventy-five miles from Kansas City.  I had traveled to KC more than once,
but my Father never let me out of the car.  There were so many strange
looking people everywhere, I'm not sure I would have gotten out if he had
let me.

   My brothers were both older.  Jim was a lot older than me.  He was in
his late twenties and had moved away from the farm a long time ago.  He
came back for holidays and birthdays.  There was always tension between Jim
and my father.  I wasn't privy, but I remembered big fights between them,
when I was just a little girl.  All I really knew was that Jim lived in KC
and that my parents didn't approve, for some reason.  Things like that
never got discussed in front of me.  He never visited without bringing me
something from the city, always something I had to hide from my parents. 
Nothing all that bad, but my parents were very, very strict and so I had to
hide anything they hadn't given me.  I wasn't allowed to read anything but
the Bible and my schoolbooks, which were chosen by my parents.  Anything to
do with popular culture was banned from the house.  In fact, I would have
grown up without any idea of what was going on in the rest of the world if
it weren't for Jim.  He had a very offbeat sense of humor.  He thought it
was quite the joke when he tucked, a copy of "Lolita" in with the
conservative blouse he brought for my twelfth birthday.  It was completely
scandalous to me.  Not just that this older man was trying to have sex with
a girl my age, but that anyone was trying to have sex with anyone else and
worst of all, writing it down.

   My other brother was Bill.  Bill was seventeen and a high school junior.
I was thankful he wasn't a year older, or he wouldn't have been there for
my first year of public school.  I was just entering seventh grade in his
senior year.  But it was a combined Jr.-Sr.  High School, so we were in the
same building.  Bill and I were close and he had already told me I could
eat lunch at his table.  That had been my biggest fear.  Having my first
school day in seventh grade and not knowing anyone.  That my big brother
was there made it a lot less scary.

   Even though "Lolita" was the first time I became aware that anyone
besides me was thinking about sex all the time, it isn't like I didn't know
the facts of life.  A girl on the farm sees her first erect penis by six
and starts asking about it by eight.  By ten, I had seen at least half a
dozen different animals having sex, and it was no big deal.  Even though I
am writing this for a sex story site, if any of you guys think we girls get
hot by watching horses and cattle doing 'the nasty', think again.  Well,
sure, if some girl on the farm tells you that she never looked at three
feet of penis hanging down from a horse without the slightest tinge of
curiosity, she's lying.  But at the same time, the curiosity it stirs
didn't have anything to do with THAT penis.  That is a fantasy of guys in
the city who have never smelled a horse.  I had seen lots of horses mate
and even seen cum spray from a penis.  It made me wonder about sex in
general.  I never once even came close to wondering what it would be like
to have sex with one of those penises.  Not one of those monstrous things!
It was as long as half of my whole body and the only thing that smelled
worse than the horse's penis, was the horse itself.  Never in a million
years did I imagine I would ever know what one of those things felt like
inside me.

   So, city boys, while we pubescent country girls may giggle embarrassedly
when the horse next to us gets hard and extends three feet of penis out of
his sheath, that is still worlds away from wanting to have sex with a
horse. When you city boys see dogs doing 'it', does it make you want to do
it with a dog?  I didn't think so.  Expecting me to fanaticize about three
feet of black and pink horse penis is about like expecting my brother to
get off watching cow udders swing around.  Trust me, cow udder does not
have the effect that Angelina Jolie's bare breasts had on my brother when
he snuck me out to a movie.  The same way an erect horse cock doesn't do
anything close to how I felt watching Johnny Dep.  He even had most of his
clothes on.  I remember watching him and wondering if he was going to take
his clothes off.  It was the first time I can remember honestly wanting to
see a boy naked.  I was blushing just knowing it was what I was thinking.

   From what I've read to this point, great big dicks are much more what
boys dream about than girls.  I'm young and na?ve, but I do understand the
difference between a boy and a horse.  I've seen erect horses since I was
smaller than their penises and I, for one, am very happy to know that boys
are nowhere near that size.  The only boy penis I've seen is my brother's,
and I've never seen that one hard.  Well, not really!  Once I went into his
room when he was just waking up.  The covers were tented around it.  When
he woke and saw me, he pulled the covers tight to hold it down.  This made
it all the more discernable.  Now instead of being a tent, I could see the
size and shape through the covers.  I was transfixed.  I stared at it,
hypnotized.  No, I didn't have feelings like that for my brother, but it
was the first time I had ever seen an erect human penis, even if it was
just the outline.  My brother brought me out of my trance.  "Did you want
something besides just staring at my dick?" I was mortified and ran from
the room, embarrassed to my core.

   Bill was great.  He came to my room after he got dressed.  At first, it
was a million times more horrible.  As he came into my room, he caught me
looking at his crotch.  "No Sis, it's soft now." I must have turned five
hundred colors and died a thousand deaths.  But he was wonderful.  He told
me I was at an age where my hormones were going to ask questions, even if I
was too scared to.  He explained to me what 'morning wood' was.  It was the
first of many, many talks that Bill and I had about sex.  No!  Get your
filthy mind out of the gutter.  It wasn't like that at all.  Well, there
was once when he showed me his penis.  But he wasn't hard or anything.  He
showed me all his 'boy stuff''.  He never asked me to take any clothes off
and we never touched each other.  We knew we were already pushing the
lines. But it wasn't about experimenting.  It was about my big brother
protecting me by teaching me the things I needed to know.  Things that he
knew our parents never would.

   I can't imagine what would have happened when I got to school if it
hadn't been for those talks.  Even having been forewarned, it was still a
shock when my male teachers talked to my chest just as much as my fellow
students.  Just months away from being a bona fide teenager, I had still
yet to kiss a boy.  I hadn't even been alone in a room with a boy, other
than my brothers.  So I hardly knew what to expect.  I wouldn't even have
had a clue if it weren't for Bill.

   At twelve and three quarters, I stood only five feet tall.  But I wore a
34D bra.  Bill took the other two measurements, making me 34-22-34.  Bill
told me how my 'wasp-waist' made my breasts appear even bigger than they
were.  Trust me, they were pretty big as it was.  Bill told me that this
was destined to define how men would relate to me for the rest of my life.
Of all the advice I ever got in my life, before or after, that turned out
to be the most accurate.

   Just as Bill had predicted, I got 'hit on' as he described it, from the
minute I got to school.  He had also told me not to respond in any way. 
Any reaction at all, was just re-enforcement.  What do girls without
brothers do?  Meanwhile, Bill is giving me a reading list that is blowing
my mind.  The Iliad, Lady Chatterley's Lover, The Marquis de Sade, Candy,
and other stuff.  Believe it or not, Candy was the most shocking.  I guess
because it was the most contemporary.  Also, her saga of non-stop sex that
was all happening because of her total naivet?  struck a chord with me. 
But it's not like I'm a sex-a-holic virgin or anything.  I've been reading
everything I could since I learned to read.  It was my only way out of the
farm.  From the books about the world I would take from the library with my
mom to the stuff I could only get with my brother.  Between them, I never
sounded like a little girl from the farm.  By nine, my parents had to ask
me the meaning of words I used.

   There were other books Bill gave me.  One was a large format book of
nothing but pictures of people making love, in all sorts of ways.  It was
mostly men and women, but some men with men and women with women.  In most
of the pictures, you didn't see their 'parts', necessarily, but where they
were, what they were and weren't wearing, a look on a face.  You knew they
were all making love.  In other pictures, I saw penises go places I didn't
know penises went and tingled with the possibility.  I loved that book.  I
masturbated for the first time in my life, in front of that book.  It was
just my favorite of an entire library I had amassed, my first semester of
school.  From great literature and medical anatomy texts to erotic
literature and out and out porn, From Miller to Nin to Mr.  X.  I had a
library of around thirty books I had locked away in a wooden chest, on a
back shelf, in my closet.  Most of them had come from Bill but some had
come from girls at school, too.  I had been really afraid I would get
teased for being so backwards.  But when they learned I had been at home
since I was born and had a voracious appetite for all things sexual, short
of the real thing, everyone was willing to help.  I loved all my books. 
They kept me sane while still confined to the farm.

   I was on the school bus coming home on Friday before Xmas vacation.  It
was going to be two weeks without school for the firs time since I started.
I was looking forward to Christmas and all that family stuff.  My parents
were strict and sheltering to the point of smothering.  But they did it
because they loved me.  They weren't weird or anything.  I love my parents.
It was really hard keeping to their rules, but I still love them.  As the
school bus pulled up in front of our drive, I saw a bonfire burning in the
driveway and my father and Bill were yelling at each other.  I got off the
bus.  My father started down the drive towards me.  Bill physically got in
his way.  There was more yelling.  My mother joined in, half dragging my
father inside, while Bill came down the drive to me.

   He told me that the fire was my chest of books.  Dad had found them and
was sure I was going to a brothel every day instead of school.  "My books?
My books are burning?" I ran over to the fire to watch my beloved books
burn beyond repair.  I burst into tears and before Bill could grab me, I
bolted into the house.  "Daddy, how could you?  Not just going through my
things and taking them.  How could you think such a thing of your own
daughter?  Daddy, I've never held a boy's hand.  I've never kissed a boy.
I've never wanted to!  Look at me, Daddy!  Look at my chest.  Men look at
me.  I had those books so I would know what it was all about.  So no man
would trick me.  You and mom never told me anything.  I had to learn
somewhere!  Did you want me to learn from a book or have some older man try
to teach me?" "Those books were filled with blasphemy and Sin.  If you
didn't read books of the devil, maybe you wouldn't talk back to your father
like this!" With that, he leaned towards me and slapped my face really
hard. Bill was on him in a second.  He didn't hit him but he pushed Dad
into a chair, hard.  Before he could say a word, Bill cut him off.  "It may
be your house and you may be able to burn Wendy's things if you want, but
God just saw you raise your hand to a woman.  Not just a woman but your own
daughter.  If you're half the man you raised me to be, you'll go into the
chapel and beg God's forgiveness.  So help me God, Father, If you lay a
hand on her again, you'll be asking for a judge's forgiveness.  While you
do that, Wendy and I are taking the car into town.  I'm taking her to a
bookstore for Christmas.  We'll be home late." He grabbed my hand and we
went to the car.  I couldn't believe daddy didn't stop us, but I think he
really did go to the chapel.  He was a hard man, but not a hypocrite.  Bill
took me to a bookstore near KC and we replaced five of my favorite books.
Two of my favorites they didn't have.  My beloved picture book was nowhere
to be found.  Several of my other favorites would have required going to a
bookstore I wasn't allowed in.

   My father didn't speak to me or speak to my brother in front of me for
more than a week.  But Christmas was coming and he was melted by the
season. Even though I had a stash of 'dirty books, I know no one questioned
the honesty of my protests of chastity.  I'm sure my outburst confirmed I
was purer than anyone had expected.  That took some of the wind out of
Dad's sails.

   I even took it as his capitulation when, for Christmas, he bought me a
new pretty carved wooden chest to replace the one he had burned along with
my books.  I even took his filling it half full with religious tracts on
chastity and church booklets about the importance of sex being within the
family unit as the closest thing I would ever get to an apology.  He was on
board for me learning from books.

   I guess they kept it from me on purpose as to not ruin my holiday.  My
birthday is December 30 and so it was a big shock to learn that my father
had decided that I wasn't going back to school.  I was to be home schooled
until I was eighteen.  I guess my father decided I knew too much to be
running around outside the house.  I'm sure me telling him to look at my
chest like other men didn't do a lot for my case.

   I yelled, I cried, I threatened, I enlisted both my brothers and mom. 
Nothing would budge him.  Bill went off to High school without me.  I was
thirteen and trapped in the middle of nowhere.  I was being kept down on
the farm and I had been given a glimpse of gay Paris.  I felt like I was in
jail.  All the school boys I had offhandedly blown off for weeks, now
wouldn't leave my mind.  I'm glad I had announced I didn't want to kiss a
boy weeks ago, because now I thought of little else.

   It was very few weeks before I had decided to run away.  There was no
way I was spending another five years sneaking out with Bill every few
weeks.  My mind is made up.  I know what I'm doing.  I know I can't really
go out on my own and expect to stay a virgin very long.  I'm naive, not
stupid.  It's not what I would have chosen, but right now I'd rather lose
my virginity too soon than too late.  From everything I've learned in
school, my books and Bill, my breasts are going to be my best friend and my
worst enemy, getting me in and out of trouble.

   I made up my mind I was leaving the next day.  Everyone would be gone
mid-day.  I would be alone for at least a couple of hours.  The pick-up
would still be here and like any farm kid, I learned to drive a truck from
the time I could reach the pedals.  After dinner, I kissed Bill goodnight
and I guess I lingered.  He asked me if everything was alright and I lied.
I said I was just a little blue about being stuck at home again.  He
promised to talk to Dad again and said goodnight.  I realized it might be
the last time I would see him for a long time.

   Morning came, my father went to Kansas City to do business and Bill went
to school.  Mom went to do her shopping in our little town.  Dad had the
car, mom the station wagon and sure enough the pickup was next to the barn
where it always was, with the keys perpetually in the ignition.  I
scribbled a note so they wouldn't think something bad happened.  Wait a
minute, they will think my leaving at all, was something bad happening. 
But there's nothing to be done about it.  I wrote that I loved them all,
but that without my favorite books and school to break me out of the prison
that my home was quickly becoming, I didn't feel I had any choice.  It was
hardest to write to Bill and even Jim.  They had both done all they could
for me and I felt really guilty about not saying goodbye to Bill, But as I
told him in the note.  I had no doubt that he was able to talk me out of
it, which is exactly why I didn't tell him.

   I had a little money and brought anything I thought I could hock with
me. That was my first stupid dream, if you don't count leaving home at 13.
I didn't know you needed as solid an ID to hock items as you did to drink.
While my 34D's might have gotten me into a bar, they weren't doing anything
for me at the pawn shop.  I had told my parents in the note where to find
the pickup.  I stashed my stuff under a tarp in the bed and left the car
where I had said.  My plan was simple but to me, elegant.  I would throw
everyone off by buying a bus ticket to NYC.  It would fool everyone but
Bill.  Bill knows I would never go to NYC, ever, even on a bet.  I was
feeling imprisoned by my father and the farm.  That doesn't mean I want to
go to an ugly bustling city.  I had trouble dealing with KC.  It was
January.  I'm thirteen, with the clothes on my back, less than a $100 and
nowhere to go.  If I knew exactly where Jim was, I might try to get his
help, but probably not.  He would try to talk me into going home too.

   I guess what had me the most nervous about my plan was knowing that the
two people I most trusted in the world would try to talk me out of it.  But
the plan was set.  I bought the ticket to NYC and rode the bus to Chicago.
I was sure enough people saw me in KC and on the bus.  I never had any
trouble meeting people, and as Bill had predicted, easily a quarter of all
the men I had any contact with, hit on me.  I could hear in my mind the
ticket clerk and others in the bus station who were talking to my chest
responding to the police holding my picture.  I can hear it now.  "Well she
'looked a little older' than in the picture." I intentionally left my seat
several times just so people would remember me.  Once in Chicago, I ran to
the ladies room.  I dyed my hair from blonde to black and put on enough
make-up to transform from 13 to 23 in ten minutes flat.  I went into the
bathroom as a large breasted 13 year old blonde with a too tight T-shirt
and left as a 23 year old brunette.  I had wrapped my breasts with an ace
bandage and put on a blouse I had from when I was ten, that I never could
have buttoned over my breasts.  As the older, much less noticable brunette,
I exchanged my NYC ticket for one for San Francisco.  Since bus tickets
don't have names and I don't look like me, they may figure out that I
didn't get back on the bus to NYC but there's nothing to indicate where I
really went.  The trail will go cold in Chicago.

   After exchanging my ticket, I had all of $20.  Not quite $20 actually.
Just as Bill had said, my breasts would get me in an out of trouble.  They
were working in my favor so far.  Instead of spending my life savings
buying food on the two day bus trip, I found out the St.  Louis bus station
had showers in the ladies room and I switched back to a large breasted
blonde.  I reapplied the make up to maintain my age.  That had guys
fighting to buy me food on the trip.  That's when I first realized that I
didn't have anything close to a cover story.  I'm sitting with some guy in
a suit who is easily in his thirties.  We're in a truck stop eating
sandwiches and I am packing in as much as I can demurely get down, knowing
I have no idea where my next meal is coming from.  For all my bravado, I'm
always on the verge of peeing my pants.

   What the hell was I thinking?  I'm sitting across from this guy who
hasn't taken his eyes off my breasts since we sat down.  We're only in
Colorado and he is asking me where I'm from and where I'm going and why.  I
have no idea whatever of what to say.  I may not look thirteen anymore, but
I still sound like it.  God am I dumb, or what?  I'm even dumber than I
thought.  I was barely a minute into my seat of the pants lie, when this
guy looks me in the eye for the first time and says, "You're a runaway,
aren't you?  How old are you really?  Sixteen?  I bet not.  What are you
going to do in SF?  Do you have anyone there?" I didn't have anything close
to a plausible lie for any of his questions, except the most important.  I
couldn't have this guy think I didn't have anywhere to go when I got to SF,
or I'd never get rid of him.  I lied that my brother was there and waiting
for me to call when I arrived.

   I told him I was just a month shy of being 18 and between high school
and college.  I don't know if he bought any of it, but he acted like he
did. I remembered a story Jim had told me of traveling when he left home
and went to California.  He had told me about a youth hostel, somewhere
North of the city.  I realized that my ability to remember where it is,
might be the difference between my maintaining my independence and having
to fend for myself on the streets in the city.  He pays for dinner and we
get back on the bus.  Night falls and he is doing all he can to get me to
make out with him on the bus in the darkness.  I haven't even kissed him
and his hands are all over me.  Just when I thought I had him under
control, I feel his hand completely cupping my breast.  He gave it a
squeeze and I screamed.  An older man, more my father's age, got up and
asked me if I was OK and if I needed any help, as he stared daggers at my
new companion.  I said I was OK but when he asked if I wanted to change
seats, I took him up on it.  He was definitely more on the fatherly side.

   His name was Bill, like my brother, by the time he started asking
questions, I had a story.  I was just shy of 18 and while I was visiting my
brother in SF against my father's wishes, I wasn't really a runaway because
I was going to go home afterward.  I was so proud of myself coming up with
a plausible story that made me look much less helpless than I really was.
He was going to SF to visit his brother too.  He was my father's age and
was from Indiana.  We talked about everything under the sun all the way to
SF.  While not immune to my breasts, he was able to look at my face too.  I
was sure I had pulled off my story.  We pulled into the Bus station in SF.
I thanked him for his help and company and told him I had to go call my
brother.

   That's when I came to realize how transparent I was to absolutely
everyone around me.  He looked straight into my eyes and shook his head. 
"What are you?  Fourteen, fifteen?  Your development under your shirt is a
great distraction, but when I really look at your face, you're not a day
over sixteen.  You've got that 'deer in the headlights' of a little girl
with nowhere to go.  I'd take you with me, but the people I'm going to see
know my wife.  Beyond what everyone would assume, if I brought you with me,
I have to confess, that you are so overwhelmingly beautiful, I couldn't
swear the suspicions wouldn't be justified.  I would love to be able to say
that I could spend a night with you in a hotel as your protector.  But
frankly, the only way I can be sure of my higher motives is not to try." He
reached into his wallet and took out all the money.  He offered me every
bill in his wallet.  "I've got credit cards and a means to get more money
without compromising myself.  There isn't the slightest doubt in my mind
that you can't say the same.  Take it.  Go home!  I know you won't, but I
had to say it.  I have a daughter not all that much older than you.  Thank
god she's in college and safe.  I can't begin to imagine what your family
is going through now.  Please!  Take the money and give me your parent's
phone number.  I promise I won't call them until I'm back in Indiana, so
they won't know where you are.  But please, as a parent, let me call them
and tell them you're safe so far.  Don't you at least owe them that?" My
eyes started to tear up.  I looked down and there was easily a couple of
hundred dollars in my hand.  I wrote down my parents' number, and gave it
to him.  "Thank you, you just saved your parents a few hundred, out of
thousands of tears.  Whatever you do, don't get a room in this
neighborhood. People in this part of town are looking for girls like you.
This place is a Mecca for girls like you.  If you won't go home, at least
don't set yourself up to become a stripper/junkie/whore your first week
here.  Don't try to make the money last by staying in really cheap places.
Really cheap places are full of men just waiting for girls like you.  Get
out of the big city.  In a smaller place, there may not be as many
resources but there aren't as many predators either.  Now, having salved my
conscience by giving you the best advice I can, if I were you, I would get
my ass in gear." He shook his head again.  He made no pretense about
staring at my tits then looked me in the eye again.  "Thinking about it, I
could never live with myself if I read about your body being found, raped
and beaten in an alley tomorrow.  My apologies for lying to you, but I have
no intention of waiting until I return to call your parents.  As soon as I
see you go out that door I'm calling both your parents and the police. 
I've given you enough money to keep you safe until they find you.  I'm
sorry, but you have no idea how much danger you're in.  Not just your body,
but your very soul.  When you're older you'll thank me.  Now scoot!  The
first place the police will look is the bus and train stations and you
don't have the ID for a plane, so find a safe place for your few days in
SF. Be careful, honey.  Good luck."

   It crossed my mind to try to talk him out of it, but I didn't think
demonstrating how much I was completely over my head was my best strategy.
I already had my knapsack with everything I owned in the world.  I stuffed
his wad of bills in my pocket, kissed him on the cheek and bolted out the
door.  As I looked over my shoulder, I saw him on the phone.  Directly
across the street was a city bus.  Among the destinations on the placard
was 'Golden Gate Bridge'.  I ran across the street in front of the bus,
making him stop.  The driver glared at me, then his gaze fell to my breasts
and he opened the door.

   The bus took me to a shopping center in Marin City.  While the buildings
were pretty new and the place was kept up, it had an 'inner city' feel. 
Ok, I'm sorry, I hate to admit it, I do know better, but there were mostly
black people here.  As I made my way into the shopping center from the bus
stop, I think I doubled the number of black people I have seen in person in
my life.  I realize that I have to get to a library.  I learned about
computers in my short time at school.  I don't know a lot, but I know there
are computers in public libraries and I know how to use a search engine. 
It's getting dark and I know there is no library open now.  I go into a
Subway and buy the sandwich that is on sale.  It's awful, but I eat it. 
I'm just standing there in front of the Subway wondering what to do next.
The whole panorama in front of me is not very inviting for a virgin who
isn't particularly anxious to lose it on city streets.  A man walks up to
me.  He is staring at my tits, asking me if I need any help.  I don't have
to ask to know what any offer from him entails.

   It is clear to me that where I might have pulled off the 23 year old in
Kansas City, it didn't fly on the coast.  Not only have I been made by the
first guy I really talked to, but a little black kid who couldn't be over
nine has sized me up.  "You need a place to sleep, Lady?" I shook my head
and blinked my eyes.  My mind raced, if a nine year old sees me as a mark,
maybe I should go home.  Maybe I can't do this.  Am I about to be
propositioned by a nine year old?  Of the two of us, I'm pretty sure I'm
the only virgin.  Well, it was good news and bad news.  The bad news was
that he did see me as a total mark, completely out of place and showing it.
The good news was that he was ready to help.  He took me to a really cheap
discount store and bought clothes with me.  Things an eighteen year old
California girl would be wearing.  Then he pointed me towards downtown
Sausalito.  He told me to be wary of the cops.  The sheriffs were ok but
the Sausalito Police were tight.  He told me about 'The Gates'.  The gates
were where a houseboat community was.  It was full of lots of people who
weren't like everyone else.  My new black friend told me this was both good
and bad.  But more, there were parking lots with obviously abandoned cars.
He said to pick a car that was a row or two off the street and sleep so a
causal flashlight wouldn't catch me.  "Be sure to lock the door." Said my
first friend, Roland.

   I woke the next morning to Roland knocking at my window.  "It's too late
to still be in a car.  You'll be noticed." He led me back to the shopping
center where we went to a Starbucks to clean up and use the toilet.  I was
a mess.  Nothing to make you look like a floosy like wearing smeared
evening make-up in the morning.  I used the bathroom, washed up, and
changed into the clothes I had bought.  I put on just enough make-up to not
look like a child and walked out to spend my dwindling resources on a three
dollar cup of coffee.  Roland pointed me toward a library and I walked a
little more than a mile there.  I found out that I was very near the youth
hostel I had heard about.  I couldn't really go to a motel.  For one, I
still didn't have any ID, though Roland was working on that.  For another,
my money would be gone in a few days.  Then there's the fact that the
police are looking for me.  My picture is probably all over the place.  On
the other hand, if there are as many runaways here, as Bill said, how hard
do they look?

   No sense in pushing my luck.  Bill and Roland, have both been incredible
luck for me.  I can't count on it staying this way.  The hostel is in
federal parklands.  It doesn't look all that far on the map but Roland
tells me I am looking at the coastal range and because of the mountains, it
would be an entire day's hard walk.  Instead, he points to a road that
leads to a popular beach.  "Beach in February?" I ask.  Roland explains
somewhat exasperatedly that the water here is always too cold to go into
and so people go to the beach to watch the ocean and do other activities.
While the weather wouldn't get much above the low seventies, that was fine
for a lot of beach activities, just short of sunning in bikinis.  He even
said there were die hard exhibitionists who would be on the nude beaches by
this time of year.

   I spent another night in a car, got up with the sun and went to
Starbucks to use the bathroom.  Cleaner and with brushed hair, I start out
to the place where the tunnel to the beach is.  The hostel is on the way to
the beach.  An hour later, having trudged up a steep road for over a mile,
I am glad I wasn't thinking about walking all the way to the hostel.  I
finally make it up to where the tunnel is.  The tunnel is only one lane so
there is a very long stoplight to allow traffic to go all the way through,
before they open it the other way.  Roland pointed out that I have a five
minute, captive audience to elicit a ride from.  As I was walking up, the
light turned green and a line of cars disappeared into the tunnel.  I
trudged up to the light and dumped my knapsack.  The very first car to pull
up was full of teenage boys with surfboards on the roof.  "We're full up,
but if you don't mind sitting on someone's lap...  Where are you going?"

   When I told them, the hostel, they were full of alternative places to
stay, all of them involving one or more of these guys.  I lied and told
them I was meeting my boyfriend there.  They couldn't contain their
disappointment, but told me to get in.  They pushed the backseat forward
and one of the guys in back gestured me to his lap.  I may be a thirteen
year old virgin, but I haven't stayed a virgin this long by getting trapped
in a back seat with five guys.  "Wouldn't everyone be a lot more
comfortable if I just sat on this guy's lap?" I said, putting my hand on
the shoulder of the guy in the passenger seat.  I'm not getting in this car
unless I am next to a door.  "What's the matter, did this guy lose the
lottery when you pulled up?" Oh shit, I must be right, they all laugh
embarrassedly as I climb in the front seat.  I don't know why I was
surprised, especially after all my reading, but it is a little unnerving to
feel the first erection I have felt in my life as it presses against my
butt the whole ride.  Thank god for the books and Bill.  At least I know
not to ask what I am sitting on.  Between my brother and my books, I have a
pretty good picture in my mind of exactly what I am sitting on.  I catch
myself, realizing that imagining what he looks like naked is exactly why
his penis is erect.  He is imagining the same thing of me.  It was bad
enough to have it pressing against me like that, but there were some really
big speed bumps.  I got the feeling that the driver took them a little hard
to make me bounce on his friend.  That and watch me jiggle.  They drove me
up the hill to the hostel, out of their way.  It was nice enough that I
didn't get weird when the guy, who's lap I was in, managed to brush my
breasts, more than once, and help me out by my butt.

   But with my virginity, if not my dignity, intact, I climbed the steps to
the hostel.  I walked in.  There was no one behind the desk.  In a chair
next to it was a guy who could have passed for Johnny Dep's brother.  He
was beautiful.  He was thin and tall with hair past his shoulders and a
scruffy beard.  He was the hottest thing I had ever seen in the flesh.  I
walked in and he practically jumped up.  He gave me a very nervous, "Hi!"
and seemed very agitated.  He walked right up to me.  "Look, I'm sure you
get this all the time, Wendy.  But I'm here to help you.  I really am. 
Walk outside right now and I'll follow you in a minute and explain.  Trust
me!" My blood ran cold for two reasons.  One, how did he know my name? 
Two, Bill told me that whenever a man said, "Trust me!" don't!  If you can
trust him, he won't have to ask.

   On the other hand, this guy knows my name, a thousand miles from home.
What else does he know?  If my cover is blown, what choice do I have? 
Looking back, my decision to do what he said was based more on him looking
like Johnny Dep, as much as anything else.  I had my new fake ID.  Roland
made me pay him $25 for it, but said it was worth much more.  It was a
California LD card for people who didn't drive.  It said I was Susan and
that I was nineteen.  "Johnny" came out of the hostel and I asked him why
he called me "Wendy".  I told him my name was Susan and that I had ID.  "I
hope you didn't pay more than $25 for the ID.  If you did, you got ripped.
But running away from a preacher in Missouri, at thirteen, you're way
beyond ID.  Did you know your father is in SF and on TV?  Did you know your
picture is everywhere?  Here's the one they sent to the hostel." He handed
me a retouched photo of me with my name and a reward.  Bill the Samaritan
must have described my make up to a tee.  Looking at this photo of me I
know was taken when I was eleven, was like looking into a mirror.

   "That's my bike." He said gesturing to a motorcycle.  "I have a friend
by the coast where we can hide." At first, I really didn't like the sound
of "we can hide".  He didn't have to hide, I did.  But as he straddled the
bike and kicked it to life, his long hair bouncing on his shoulders, "we"
was sounding better all the time.  I jumped on behind him and wrapped my
arms around the first man who wasn't related to me.  It felt good.  It felt
really good.

   Instead of going back through the tunnel, he turned the bike up a steep
road to a ridge over the Golden Gate Bridge.  I've never seen anything more
beautiful in my life.  He pulled over where the berm is wide and I am in a
360 degree post card.  He hands me a helmet and dons one himself,
explaining we will soon be on the highway and it is the law.  I put the
helmet on and throw my arms around him again.  His body is hard and soft at
the same time.  I can feel a tingle between my legs and it isn't just the
bike.  We head up the highway, past where the shopping center was and
continuing North.  We passed through several towns and a couple of cities,
turning onto Sir Francis Drake Blvd.  This was a main drag through several
more towns.  Things started to thin out.  We rode up a long hill and down
into a narrow valley.  We rode through several little dots of towns and
through some woods until we came to the end of the road.  But no, Drake
continued off to the right and we followed it.  Eventually Drake turned
left toward Inverness.  That's a name I recognize from a book.  We stay on
route 1 going toward Pt.  Reyes Station.  The road zig-zags through the
town and we continue up the road another mile to a little turn off.  We
pull off the road and up to a beautiful house above the water.  We go past
the house to a little cabin behind it, and pull up.  He turns off the bike
and we get off.  We take off our helmets and he looks me over.  "Not a bad
look, but you're trying a little too hard not to look thirteen and it makes
you obviously not 18.  That's why your ID was a waste of money.  Thirteen
is a tough stretch.  Hard to add five years without looking like a whore.
C'mon in.  As they say, it ain't much, but..." "I thought you said you had
a friend." I said, noticing the one bed in the single room cabin.  There
wasn't so much as a couch besides the bed.  I was already making up my mind
that I was sleeping on the floor or somewhere else tonight.  "I do!  That
would be the people in the house in front of this cabin, in case you didn't
see it when we came here.  And yes, there is only one bed here and I can
sleep in the house whenever I want so the bed is yours.  You're still a
virgin aren't you?  Girls who have already slept with guys aren't nearly as
easy to spook.  Any girl with your rack who's been around the block knows
she can parlay nearly any guy onto the floor with the flimsiest of future
promises.  If you had ever seen a guy's face when he was making love to
you, you never would have thought twice about who was getting the bed. 
Yes, in a lot of ways you're totally helpless and vulnerable.  At the same
time, you have much more power under your shirt, and between your legs,
than you can ever imagine now.  You've never even had a guy's hands in your
shirt, let alone your pants, have you?  Have you even kissed a guy yet?" I
just looked at the floor and probably turned ten shade of red.  I seem to
have no secrets here.  "Usually the runaways get all that stuff over with
pretty quickly.  It's a sad fact, but it doesn't make it any less true that
a beautiful girl on the run, who doesn't put out, isn't going to get very
far.  How fresh out of home are you?  Two days?  Three?" "Four, actually!"
"Four days on the road and still a virgin?  You must have set some sort of
record.  Didn't have to blow some old guy on the bus for that money you've
got, or did you steal it?" I shot him a look and told him the story of Bill
on the bus and Roland.  "So they say things come in threes." He broke into
a beautiful smile.  "I'm Johnny".  It was too perfect.

   Having deduced from my story that I hadn't had a real bath since I left
home, he offered me a semi clean towel and invited me to use anything in
the bathroom.  "Oh, and yes, the bathroom door does lock, you can check
it." As embarrassing as it was to be so transparent, I did check the door.
Satisfied, I put on the shower and took my first really hot shower in a
long time.  I stood there in the shower washing myself when my eyes drifted
down to his razor.  As a natural blonde, I don't have really dark pubic
hair, but it isn't nearly as fair as the locks on my head.  A mad impulse
swept over me and I soaped up my pubes and started trimming.  Well, one
thing led to another and I incrementally shaved myself back to ten.  I was
just cleaning up with the razor when I zigged instead of zagged and nipped
one of my nether lips with the blade.  I was bleeding like a stuck pig. 
Trust me, I've seen a stuck pig.  I couldn't get it to stop bleeding.  I
finally wrapped my lip in toilet paper and put a towel around me.

   I unlocked the bathroom door and called out.  "Johnny?  Do you have
anything to stop bleeding in here?" He came to the door.  "I do have a
styptic pen but I'm not sure where.  Are you decent?  I can dig it out of
the cabinet." I opened the door.  He had taken off his shirt.  He had a
beautiful chest and just a little hair.  The more I saw of him, the more
beautiful he was.  He gave me a smile and waited to be invited in.  He
strode past me to the medicine cabinet.  He dug for a minute and came up
with the pen.  He sat on the covered toilet holding the pen up towards me.
"Can I help?  I see it isn't on your face," He broke into a big smile. 
"But then why would you have a razor on your face?  Did you cut your leg? I
don't see it." Then he realized that the towel wasn't covering my legs that
much.  Wherever I was bleeding, probably wasn't something I wanted him to
take care of.  He gave a little embarrassed laugh and started to get up.  I
was only a step away and moved over to him.  I will never know why, but at
thirteen and never been kissed, I opened the towel to reveal the bloody
toilet paper clinging to my nether lip.  He was unbelievably gentle as he
wet another piece of toilet paper and wet mine before removing it, so it
wouldn't pull on my tender lip.  He gently dabbed the blood away, revealing
dried blood below.  He firmly but gently scrubbed my cunny lip.  Looking up
at me with the styptic pen in his hand, "This is really going to sting in a
place you don't want to be stung." He touched the pen to my lip and I
screamed.  I also let go of my towel.  It was just as well he thought it
was the pain.  In reality, I was shaking so badly from having a man wash my
cunny lip, I had almost dropped it already.

   I have still yet to kiss a boy on the lips, but I'm thirteen years old
and standing completely naked.  Not just naked, but more naked than I have
ever been since I was eleven, with my pubes shaved.  A man I met not three
hours ago, who's last name I don' even know, is sitting with his face
inches from my bald cunny and has my lip between his fingers.  He dabs with
the toilet paper.  "I think the bleeding has stopped." He leaned forward
and put his hands on my hips.  "You know, they say there's no better
coagulant than saliva." Before I could react, he had his tongue out and was
gently licking my lip.  I must be the first girl on Earth to have a tongue
pass through those lips first.  He licked so gently.  My hands went down to
his head to push him away, but my muscles refused to betray my body as a
wave washed over me and I had the first orgasm I hadn't created.  I came
out of the orgasm to find I had his hair in a death grip, holding his face
to my cunny.  My knees went out from under me.  I felt myself falling. 
Strong arms across my back and thighs carried me out of the bathroom and
dumped on the bed.  My head cleared and I realize I am alone with a man
naked in his bed.  I think about how if I cried rape, you could say I was
asking for it when I let him make me cum with his tongue in m cunny.  He is
on top of me.  Not pressing down, just over me.  He sees my discomfort. 
"Sweetheart, my pants are still on.  You're completely in control.  Nothing
is going to happen that you don't want to happen.  I promise you that.  I
don't promise not to try to make you want more to happen.  All you ever
have to do is say, 'No!'" I formed the letter 'N' in my mouth.  I didn't
want to lose my virginity to a guy I had known for three hours, no matter
how beautiful.  Not in a shack, not before I have even made out.  It's just
not supposed to be like this.  I said no in my head.  It got to my lips. 
But he took a nipple and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger, as he
leaned down to kiss me.  He proceeded to caress and kiss every inch of me
from head to toe.

   He didn't take off his pants for more than an hour.  I swear, if he had
worked on me much longer, I would have ripped them off him.  Even after he
was naked, he went down on me, suckling my clit and driving me crazy.  I
had just cum for what had to be the twentieth time since the bathroom when
I had to do something for him.  I was sure I wasn't going to be a virgin in
the morning, but I wasn't completely ready yet.  But I knew I had to look
at and play with his penis.  I knew all along that he would want me to.  He
was still between my legs when I twisted around so it was right in front of
my face.  It was amazing.  Not just how different this rock hard protrusion
was from my flaccid brother, but more, just what the sight of it was doing
between my legs.  I could feel my cunny was leaking juices into my ass
crack.  I had only read about women getting wet in books.  I knew he was
looking at my cunny right now.  I was so embarrassed.  I took his penis in
my hand.  "Johnny, I don't know what I'm doing.  If I do anything wrong,
please tell me." I started licking the head.  He was circumcised, like my
brothers.  I took the end of it in my mouth, being very careful with my
teeth.  He let out a moan.  I pushed forward on him as he slowly dragged
his tongue across my clit.  I moved him back and forth in my mouth while he
continued to play with my clit with his tongue.  He thrust it into me and
then dragged it slowly across my clit as he drew it out.  I exploded into
the best orgasm I had in my short life.  Almost involuntarily, I found
myself pressing forward on his penis.  I was floating in orgasm-land and I
wanted to consume the penis of the man doing it to me.  I started to gag. I
slowed down and held myself in check as I put the feeling down.  Once I
took control like that, the rest of him slid easily into my throat.  It was
a wonderful feeling.  I didn't mind at all that I couldn't really breathe.
I had just cum wonderfully and now have his penis as far into me as it can
be.  The world is a wonderful place.

   He sat up, moving his penis out of my mouth.  With strong arms he
repositions me on the bed.  He climbed above me and I opened my legs
without having decided to.  I've never done this before, but my reactions
are more instinctual than from my books.  He put his penis at the entrance
to my cunny and rubs the head on my clit a little.  I tip my hips up to
receive him.  He pushes in me hard.  My maidenhead is torn in one thrust.
It hurts.  It hurts a lot more than I thought it would.  He senses this and
stops moving in me.  He bends his head down and plays with my nipples with
his tongue.  He lifts his head and looks deeply into my eyes.  I take hold
of his hips and start moving him in me.  Slowly at first, but soon my hands
have him stroking me deeply.  It isn't what I had thought it would be.  It
is a thousand times better.  His body stiffens and he cries out, As I feel
his warm cum shoot against my womb, I put my heels on his butt and press
him to me.  I've never felt anywhere near this good, ever in my life.  I
have a momentary twinge, realizing we haven't used any protection, but
nothing is going to intrude on how I feel now.  We made love well into the
morning and beyond.  He had wonderful stamina and recoil.  He kept teasing
that it was nothing that any guy fucking a thirteen year old couldn't do.
It was our joke.  We spent the next three or four days in bed a lot more
than out.  I swear, I managed to do all the things I had seen in my beloved
picture book and confirmed for myself that a penis really does go in all
those places.  In fact, it feels really good in every one of them.

   I had been at Johnny's for a little less than a week.  He had been on
the phone most of the bmorning and told me to put some clothes on, that we
were going to have company.  I teased him about making me cover up, but
when his 'friends' arrived.  I was really happy to be dressed.  Though all
of them had undressed me with their eyes the minute they saw me.  They were
bikers.  Complete with hogs and everything.  Johnny wanted me to go
somewhere with them.  He said he wanted me to pickup something for him.  I
can't even remember why he made it plausible that I had to go with them. 
Whatever he said, my believing him was somewhere in between fucking my
virgin brains out for a week and me being thirteen.  In the end he allayed
my fears by giving me a cell phone and telling em to call him as soon as I
got there.  Sooner if there was trouble.  I somehow took this to mean I was
safe.

   We got to where we were going and it was a sleazy bar, full of bikers.
"I'm not old enough to go in a bar." I protested.  "Oh you can go in this
one, honey." Said the leader.  "Your ID is under your shirt." We went
inside and my arrival was met with cat calls and foul language.  I was
hustled into a back room.  Normally this would have worried me, but
considering the front room, and my cell phone, I had a false sense of
security.  The leader turned to me.  He was sniggering to his buddies when
he said, "Well, aren't cha gonna call your loverboy?" I didn't like his
tone.  He evidently knew something I didn't.  I called Johnny.  He told me
he had sold me to the biker group for a lot of money.  I started crying and
asked him how he could do that to me.  He said that he could have gotten a
much better price for me if he had left me a virgin, but it was just too
much fun breaking me in.  He said it had been a lot of fun knowing his was
the first dick in my pussy, mouth and ass.  That there was no way he could
resist my tits, and as he put it, 'virgin snatch'.  Then he cut me to the
quick.  He told me that I was so stupid and pitiful that he had considered
just cutting me loose.  But when I showed him my pussy in the bathroom I
had sealed my fate.  He said he was figuring out a price for me before he
carried me to the bed from the bathroom.  He had known he was going to sell
me to a biker gang every single minute he was making love to me.

   I dropped the phone and threw up.  The main biker started laughing. 
"You don't have to clean that up.  At least not right away.  No sense in
wasting anybody's time.  If we don't have you heaving a lot more than that
in the next few hours, we just aren't trying." I started crying harder. 
"Yeah, there'll be a lot of crying too.  Don't know what it does for you
bitches, but you all want to cry during gang bangs." I started really
sobbing.  He yanked me off the floor by my hair, then tore the buttons off
my blouse.  He produced a switchblade and cut through the seams so it just
fell off me.  I thought he was going to cut me when he thrust the knife at
my breasts.  He cut through my bra straps and between my breasts.  I was
trembling, tears flowing down my cheeks onto my breasts as I stood in the
back room of a biker bar with around eight bikers, licking their lips
staring at my naked breasts.  I brought my arms up around my tits, only to
have them batted away.  "Don't act all shy, baby.  We know better.  We know
a lot better.  We've all seen you fuck like the cock whore you are." He
clicked a remote and a TV in the corner was filled with the imagine of me
with Johnny's penis deep in my mouth, choking out a scream as he made me
cum.  I died a thousand deaths.  He had a hidden camera capturing
everything we did.

   I bolted for the window.  I didn't care that my breasts were bare or
that the window was closed or even that I had no idea of where I was or
where to go.  I just bolted for the window.  I didn't even get close.  A
huge hand caught me in the gut.  He had hit my solar plexus and I couldn't
breathe.  I saw a boot coming towards my face and everything went black.

   I woke up naked.  I can feel a bump on my forehead and my stomach hurts.
I'm tied down on a, a pool table.  My arms are tied to the pockets above
me, and my legs to the ones below.  There is a pillow under my hips and the
table has a big blanket like a moving pad on it.  "Good morning Darlin'" It
was the leader again.  He brought his hand down hard on my bald pussy with
a slap.  Turning to the other men he said.  "Can you believe such fine
premium pussy has only been stretched by just one cock?  Honey, before this
day is over, you're going to forget what it was to only fuck one cock at a
time." He walked up to my face and leered at my tits.  He bent over me. 
"How dumb can cunt get?  You sealed your fate when you decided to lick
Johnny's dick.  Did you think for a minute he could have you just walking
around waiting for the cops to grab you so you could them all about the
nice man who fucked a thirteen year old for a week?  The minute you touched
his dick you sealed your fate.  You think he wants to go to jail for twenty
years?  No thirteen year old twat is worth that.  Nah, you can't ever see
the sidewalk again, honey.  If you ever get your heart set on leaving us,
don't forget we will never let you leave alive.

   Judging from the film, Johnny broke you in pretty good for just one
dick. You like to fuck.  That's going to work in your favor.  It will make
the time pass easier.  The boys and I are going to give you a taste of what
it is to be tied down and gang raped for hours.  It's gonna be your life,
now.  I don't know how routine the farm back home was, but when it isn't
routine here, isn't necessarily a good thing for you." They all laughed. 
They all started taking off their clothes.  The leader climbed on the table
and pushed into me easily, with my butt high on a pillow.  He started
fucking me and I started crying harder.  "Dumb cunt, you don't even know
there are guys who couldn't cum if you weren't crying.  Wait until you meet
the ones who can't cum unless you're screaming in pain.  You'll meet them
too.  Wait until they find out I have an angelic thirteen year old who
cries on cue.  Yer gonna make me rich, little cunt, if you live long
enough."

   He fucked me hard.  As he did, others put a big pillow under my
shoulders.  It was big enough that my head hung completely backwards
without touching the table.  This is what they wanted.  While the leader
fucked me, another man jumped up, his knees on the edge of the table.  He
pulled my hair back under me and shoved his penis in my mouth.  They raped
me like that, two at a time, for hours.  I refused to count but it was
clear I had gone from one man to dozens and dozens in one long day.  I was
sick and crying throughout.  If that helped them rape me, so be it.  I
wasn't having a good time and wasn't about to pretend or be stoic in any
way.  I had just thought I was falling in love for the first time in my
life only to be sold into white slavery.  The leader was in my face again.
"Listen, honey.  We all saw how much you love to fuck on the disk Johnny
gave us.  The guys are complaining that after only a week out of virginity
you have already become one of those girls who just lies there and gets
fucked instead of being a good fuck all by herself.  Now guys like me don't
think the worst of a girl right away.  I figure everybody gets the benefit
of the doubt.  I told them it's because you're tied down.  I told them that
if we let you up you'd fuck like the bitch in heat that you really are.  Do
you want me to untie you?" "P-please!" I cried.  Now, I told them you'd be
a better fuck if we untied you.  But there's a problem.  Do you know what
that problem is, honey?" I shook my head.  "Well, the problem is that the
last time you were untied you tried to jump out a window.  There are guys
here who want to have an iron collar fitted on your neck connected to a
ball you can carry around.  Others just don't think you should ever not be
tied to something.  Now personally, I like throwin' my cunt around a
little. Especially when they're as little as you.  Damn, do you even weigh
a hundred pounds?" I nodded my head, but in truth, as little as I had eaten
since I left home, I wasn't sure I was still a hundred pounds.  "Now our
problem is that you ran once and worse, you ran in a way you could have
gotten really hurt.  When getting hurt doesn't scare a girl, it tells you
she doesn't have enough experience getting hurt.  So that's what we're
going to do now.  We're going to teach you how much it can hurt to do
something we don't want you to do.  You aren't getting punished for bolting
the first time.  We understand you're young and didn't know any better. 
No, I'm just going to teach you what it would be like if we really did
decide you needed to be taught a lesson." "But, but.  No!  I won't run.  I
swear I won't run.  I won't even just lie there.  I'll fuck you.  I'll do
it!  Please don't hurt me, mister." He looked at me with cold eyes and an
evil smile.  "You know what to do with her, boys." Men came to my hands and
feet and started untying me.  Once finished, they lifted me off the table
and carried me to another part of the room.  Here, they put leather cuffs
on my wrists and ankles.  They attached my wrists to ropes coming from the
ceiling and stretched my legs wide to fit rings in the floor that were made
for someone taller than me.  The ropes in the ceiling were pulled taut
until I was completely lifted off the floor.  I am uncomfortably stretched
in a tight X.  The men standing in front of me were looking at me with
hungry looks.  As tightly as I am stretched I still have room to tremor and
shake in my bonds, which I do.  My captor comes up from behind.  Johnny
says your father was very, very strict, Wendy.  Did he ever take a strap to
you, Wendy?  I shook my head no.  You mean he never took off his belt and
let loose on you?  I shook my head again.  "So you mean you've never been
beaten in your life?  You've never felt the kiss of leather on your body
before?" I shook my head again.  "Please don't hurt, me.  You don't have to
hurt me." Oh but we do, my dear.  We're going to hurt you like you never
knew you could be hurt.  You're going to get whipped with a leather whip.
It's going to cover your body with painful raised purple welts.  It's going
to hurt so much that you aren't going to sleep for the next couple of days.
You won't be able to lie on your welts.  It's going to be a world of hurt
just to be you for the next few days.  While you scream, as the whip cuts
into your flesh, and you will scream like you never have before, I want you
to be thinking about how this is just a demonstration and not really a
punishment.  I want you to lay in pain for a few days so you can think
about what it would be like, if you really tried to run.  I've never
whipped a thirteen year old before.  Fifteen is my record til now.  But she
didn't have tits near as nice as yours.  I can't wait to lay down my
stripes on your back and then I can get to those tits.  I bet they bounce
really nice when they're hit.  Good thing they're real.  I've seen a good
hit from a heavy whip like mine burst a fake tit."

   He cracked his whip right next to me and I cried out.  The men laughed.
I felt the whip cut into my butt and it felt like fire.  What was most
distressing was how the pain didn't seem to fade at all.  It was searing,
knife-like pain across my ass and it didn't begin to fade.  With my ass on
fire, he laid the next stroke across my back.  The next was across my upper
thighs, followed quickly by another to my ass.  He hit my back again.  This
time he let the whip coil around and hit the side of my breast.  He did the
same thing with my wide spread legs and the end of the whip cracked in the
space between my thigh and my pussy.  That hurt the worst.  My bladder let
go when he hit me there.

   I was screaming non-stop.  I was totally hysterical.  I had never felt
so much pain in my life, ever.  It felt like my whole backside was on fire.
He walked up in front of me and grabbed my vulva.  Sticking a finger in me
he pulled me toward him.  Inches from my face he said.  "You wouldn't run
on me would you, Wendy?"

   "NO!  No!  Never, I swear.  Oh God Please quit whipping me, Mister.  I
swear I'll never run.  You don't have to do this.  I promise you don't have
to do this.  Please stop!  Please don't hit me with the whip again, Mister.
Wouldn't you rather fuck me?"

   "Oh I'm going to fuck you.  I'm going to fuck you more and in more ways
that you could ever imagine.  But I can't really just stop now, honey.  You
have to get your demonstration.  But tell you what.  I believe you.  I
believe you so much that if you do something for me, I'll cut the number of
strokes you were going to get in half.  Now a lot of guys here would rather
whip you than fuck you, but not me.  I personally would rather fuck you. 
So if you'd rather fuck me, we can strike a deal for half the strokes.  Do
you want to make a bargain where you get to cut your strokes in half,
Darlin?" "Oh yes, Please, please.  I'll do anything, anything at all."
"Well, first of all, darlin', you aren't anywhere where you ever want to
say that you'll do anything, because if you start offering 'anything',
you'll find yourself doin' 'anything' pretty quick.  Naw, what I want from
you is pretty easy, really.  You don't have to do much of anything.  I want
you to show me that you're ready to cut bargains with your body.  Trading
on those tits and cunt are your life now.  I want to see if you know how to
do it.  If you really want your whipping to get cut in half, here's what
you'll have to do.  I'm going to have my boys loosen your bonds so your
feet are on the floor.  Then you're going to bend over and offer your ass
to the whip.  No wimpy little half bend either.  I want you bent over as
far as your ropes will allow, sticking your ass out to me as far as you can
get it.  If you don't do this right, you get the full whipping.  Are you
with me so far?" "Y-y-yes" I sobbed.  "Good!  Now once you stick you ass
out to me, I'm going to deliver one single whip blow to it.  Just one.  If
I wanted to whip you between your legs a thousand blows there's not a whole
lot you have to say about it tied like you are.  But it's not about me
doing this, it's about you letting me and participating.  I'm going to aim
it right in the crack of your ass.  If you do this right, I'll cut a slice
between your cheeks and cut into your asshole.  Of course, the whip is long
and it's probably going to nick your cunt lips, but that's just the icing
on the cake.  Now, I know how much it's really going to hurt, because I've
done this before.  So I'm going to give you time to compose yourself after
you get hit.  After the whip slices up your crack, I'm going to give you a
whole five seconds to get your shit together.  If you don't, you get the
whole whipping.  If you want to cut the whipping in half, within five
seconds of my cracking on your crack, you will ask me.  No damnit, you will
beg me, just like you just begged me to stop whipping you, to fuck your
asshole while it is still burning from the whip.  That's how you buy half a
whipping.  If you don't get your ass into the whip the best you can and if
you don't beg me like you really want it, you get the whole whipping
anyway. Now, are you ready to trade a welt and a fuck on your little brown
bud for a shorterer whipping?"

   "Yesss." I managed to get out among the sobs.  I read about perversion
in my books.  I read about sadism and masochism, but I had always assumed
it was consensual, that sadists and masochists somehow found each other. 
It was just another stupid idea of a thirteen year old.  Sadists don't need
masochists, they just need bodies to string up and whip.  Like, for
instance, mine.  My entire backside is in flames.  I can't believe that the
first strike on my ass still hurts as much as every succeeding blow.  I can
count the five stokes so far by the five individual burning stripes I can
feel across my back and ass.  The idea of being covered with these horrible
stripes is beyond awful.  As much as I don't want to do what I am being
told to do, the alternative sounds so much worse.

   I can feel the ropes slacken and the burning in my armpits lessens as
they allow my weight to return to my feet.  My legs are so far apart, tied
to the hooks in the floor that I can't really balance.  It doesn't matter,
because they haven't really let me down all that much.  My hands have
beenslackened to the point that I can get them down to my shoulders.  I
have to grab the ropes for support.  Behind me I hear.

   "I'm waiting for your ass, honey.  Are you going to offer it to me right
away or shall we just string you up tight again and finish your whole
whipping?" I grabbed the ropes and bent over.  As I did, I felt it stretch
the wounded skin on my back and ass.  I could feel every inch of the cuts
across my backside.  Besides just being painfully stretched by my bending
over, I was sweating to beat the band and the sweat was burning into my
welts.  Allowing my arms to go back up above me, I bent over as much as I
could in this awkward position.  "Stick it into the whip, honey.  Show me
you want your whipping to stop.  Make me believe you want this stroke. 
Wiggle your ass at the whip, darlin' Stick those cheeks out so far that the
crack opens up for the whip, honey.  If you had any idea of the number of
strokes you're buying with this, you'd find a way to whip your own ass for
me." I was still crying uncontrollably.  I bent over as far as my
restraints would allow and moved my butt back and forth the little I could.
Maybe dad was right.  Maybe God does punish sluts for their evil thoughts.
It has only been one week since the very first time I wanted to be naked
with a boy and now I'm hanging in a biker bar having the skin flayed off my
body after a horrible gang rape.  "Last chance to sell your ass for a
whipping, honey.  Get it out there." God was particularly swift and cruel
this time.  I was shaking as I arched my back to tip my butt up to him.

   It was unquestionably the worst blow yet.  Pee ran down both my thighs
and dribbled straight onto the floor from my wide stretched cunny.  It
didn't just 'nick' my lips, the very end of the whip snaked around my whole
cunny and the tassel cracked right on my clit.  It burned into my ass crack
too, but that was nothing like a whip on my cunny.  I saw stars and the
room started to spin.  I've never felt anything so painful in my life, and
in the worst place possible.  I fell forward the moment the whip hit me. 
So now I'm hanging from my arms that are twisted behind me.  My armpits are
screaming but not like my cunny.  "Don't go out on us, honey.  You don't
want to wake up in the world of hurt that this will buy you.  If you go
out, your whipping starts all over again and maybe you get the offer again,
maybe you don't.  I'm waiting for your invitation, darlin'.  You've only
got two more seconds.  And none of your pitiful sobbing, I want to hear you
offer up your asshole to me like you really want to stop your whipping."

   "Please..." "Please doesn't cut it, honey.  Your five seconds are up. 
But tell you what.  I'm not an unreasonable man.  I know you're just a
child, even if you have tits that won't quit.  I'm going to give you one
more chance.  Offer up your ass and give me your permission to make your
cunt feel like that again.  You don't have to say a word, just stick your
Butt out like that again for the whip and I'll give you one more chance to
beg me to fuck your asshole.  Don't feel too bad about how you've become an
instant whore to keep the whip off your cunt.  I hear in wartime they can
get the deepest secrets out of women with just a couple of well placed
strokes.  But I bet there's a part of you that already knows that.  The
part between your legs." All the men laughed.  He walked up and cupped my
vulva, pushing a finger inside, and said, "This part." All the other men
laughed all the harder.  "So now it's up to you, honey.  Are you willing to
offer your cunt to the whip and beg me to fuck your asshole?  Or shall we
just whip the shit out of you, including your precious cunt, without your
help.  It's up to you!" In answer, I bent down and again arched my back to
offer my ass to him and his whip.  I was still crying so hard, I was beyond
speaking.  For some stupid thirteen year old reason, I thought it wasn't
going to be as bad.  That knowing how awful it was to have a whip between
my legs would somehow make it not as bad.  That's another stupid thirteen
year old fantasy.

   Of course, this time the whip was even worse.  My cunny was still
burning worse than it ever had, long before I bent over for him again. 
This time, he didn't even pretend he was aiming at my ass.  I had barely
gotten my butt tipped up when the whip slammed into my ass crack.  It was
worse than before.  This time the entire end of the whip curled around my
mound and laid a horrible welt diagonally across my nether lips.  It hurt
so badly, I couldn't see.  I was truly blinded by pain.  I couldn't stop
screaming.  But somewhere in the back of my head, I knew the seconds were
ticking away.  While I never was told how long my whipping would have been
without doing this, I really will do anything to make the whip stop.  I
fight through the sobs.  "P-please, mister.  Please fuck my ass." "Nice
try, but that's just asking, you were told to beg.  I'm trying to cut you
all the slack I can for being a little girl, but you're trying my patience.
Do I need to lay another stripe across your cunt, or are you ready to beg
right now?" "Oh God, Please, mister!  Please fuck my ass.  I beg you to
fuck my ass.  Oh God, I can't take another stroke.  Please, please, please.
I beg you, please fuck my ass, mister.  Do anything you want.  Just please
don't hit my cunny with the whip again." "That's a lot closer to what we
want.  It'll do for a first try.  But we can and will make you much, much
better at begging for sex instead of the whip.  Your cunt has just been
introduced to the whip.  It is the beginning of a long and intimate
relationship.  Don't doubt for a second that we won't make your cunt burn
with the whip and make you a lot better at begging for it to stop, as time
goes on.  After all, practice makes perfect.  But first, let me give you
what you asked for."

   I felt his hands on my hips.  His right hand burned on the welt that
wrapped around from across my butt, clear into my right hip.  One hand left
my hip, and I felt his penis against my ass crack.  He was clearly aiming
it with his hand.  His penis burned against the welt in my ass crack.  I
felt his penis poke at my anus and in an instant he pushed into my ass. 
God it hurt!  Describing pain has become so much more complex in just the
last few hours.  Back home, something hurt or it didn't.  Now I have to
compare the awful spasms in my butt to the burning across my ass cheeks and
cunny.  As he fucked my nearly virgin ass, the strokes pulling back hurt
worse than his cock stabbing deep in my bowels.  A half an hour ago I would
have described this as the worst pain I could ever feel.  Now I know it
isn't even close.

   After the longest time, he thrusts extra hard in my ass and I can feel
him cum.  As he painfully ripped his semi-hard penis from my tiny asshole,
he spoke.  "Thank me for fucking your ass like you begged me to.  Make me
believe it or we do it all again." "Thank you Mister, for fucking my ass."
That's a bare minimum, honey!  Sir works much better than mister.  Now make
me think I answered your dreams.  Don't forget for a minute that your
whipping starts again as soon as you're through.  You are determining how
many and how hard the strokes are by your performance.  Make me think you
love your ass fucking more than anything in the world or I'll make it the
happiest thing to happen to your ass for the rest of your sad little life."
Thank you for fucking my ass, m-m-Sir.  I'm so glad you fucked my ass, Sir.
Thank you so much." "Tell me how you liked the feel of my cock in your ass.
Tell me you love my cock and want me to fuck you whenever I want.  Make me
believe it, or would you rather get to your whipping instead?" "Your penis
felt so good , Sir!" Suddenly his whip cut another deep welt across my ass
as I was still bent over.  I screamed and cried and fell forward again. 
"Penises are what are in little girls books.  Cocks are what sluts like you
take into their cunts, mouths and asses.  You just sold your asshole to a
man who's name you don't know for a vague promise of leniency.  You are
officially a whore now!  The only thing you need to decide now is if you
are a cock whore or a whip whore.  I'm as happy with either, because I whip
my cock whores and fuck my whip whores.  Now tell me what kind of whore you
are and how much you like my cock.  Or if you want, you can tell me how
much you like my whip...  Don't let me put words in your mouth.  There's
lots of other things I have planned for your mouth.  Now tell me what kind
of whore you are and make me believe it.' "Thank you so much, Sir!  Thank
you so much for fucking me in the ass with your cock.  I love your cock,
Sir.  I am your cock whore.  I love you to fuck me with your cock, Sir. 
Thank you so much.  Please don't whip me anymore.  Fuck me with your cock,
Sir.  Please don't hit me anymore." "That was acceptable, cunt!  Now just
tell me you are a worthless cunt to be fucked and whipped and I'll get back
to your whipping.  If you do that right, you only have to take half the
strokes I was going to give you.  You just successfully sold your asshole
for a diminished whipping.  You're an honest to goodness whore now.  There
aren't a lot of whores who sell their asses first.  You've now officially
sold your ass, literally!  So now that we all know what you are, I want to
hear it from you.  Tell me!" "I am a whore, Sir!  I am a cock whore.  You
can fuck me whenever you want, mister, I mean Sir.  Please fuck me.  You
can fuck my ass again.  You and your friends can tie me to the pool table
and fuck my mouth and cunny again, whenever you want.  Please stop whipping
me, Sir.  Please don't hurt me anymore, mister."

   "Now you wouldn't be a proper whore if you didn't get paid.  So I'm
going to keep my part of the bargain and halve your whipping.  Now let's
figure this all out.  I got distracted in that tight little ass.  Damn, I
can't wait to go there again.  I can't remember feeling anything that tight
since the fifteen year old.  She got all stretched out within a few months.
You can drive a truck up her ass now, and she's barely seventeen.  No
matter, we have you now.

   So let's see.  You got five strokes.  Then you got three more, but those
don't count.  They were part of your wheeling and dealing like the whore
you are.  So as far as your original whipping is concerned, you've taken
five strokes.  Take her back up boys!"

   The ropes on my cuffs pulled me upright again.  I barely had a chance to
get my arms around so they weren't pulled up behind me.  They kept going,
and soon I was lifted off the floor in the stretched X I had been in, not
so long ago.  It just seemed like a very long time.  As I am pulled as taut
as before, he appears in front of me.  He runs his finger across the welt
on my right breast, then my nether lips.

   "As I told you when we started, half the blows come from behind, half
are from the front.  That means I get to see your face when the whip cuts
into your little cunt.  I can't wait." He slapped my cunny hard enough to
hurt.  "So as I told you child, or is that child-whore?  I told you that
you whored your way down to half your whipping.  If you were here getting
punished, there's no way you could buy more than a stroke or two and at a
much, much higher price.  We'll have you doing that soon enough.  For now,
know that if you were here being punished, you'd be looking at two hundred
strokes; One hundred from behind, and another hundred from the front. 
That's the standard minimum punishment.  You know how five have felt.  Can
you imagine two hundred?  Knowing I can get your precious cunt from front
or back, if you run, you better arrange to get killed in the process,
unless you like the idea of another 195 strokes just like the one's you
just got.  But fortunately for you, this is just a demonstration.  So you
were only slated for half that: A hundred strokes.  That's fifty on your
back and another fifty on those sweet globes and cunt.  Because you're a
whore you cut that down to fifty.  So you only have twenty more strokes on
your back and then just twenty-five from the front." He surely saw the
panic in my eyes.  How will I ever endure forty-five more strokes from that
awful whip?  How could he do that?

   "Don't sweat it honey!  The fifteen year old was a really slow learner.
She's had all two hundred strokes, eight times, Last time she took four
hundred at once.  It took a really long time.  We had to keep waking her
up. To look at her today, there are only a few noticeable scars.  She was a
real mess for a while.  But damn, she really knows her place now.  You're
young, you'll heal up from this whipping in under a couple of months,
unless, of course, you do something stupid and earn another two hundred. 
But before I give your backside the next twenty, I can't resist giving you
something to look forward to." He took a couple of steps back and uncurled
his whip.  His arm went behind him and he swung the whip over his head,
with what looked to be all his might.  It was a downward stroke that tore
into my belly like I had been punched by a fist.  A nanosecond later, the
tip cut into my left breast so hard, my nipple began bleeding.  I was held
so taut, I could barely shake the awful pain away.  I screamed and
screamed. It was horrible.  Once the loudest screams subsided and I hung in
my bonds, sobbing, he walked up to me again.

   "Let's see how good a whore you've become.  If I tell you I will stroke
from the front one less stroke and I will only deliver 23 more strokes like
that instead of 24, will you willingly beg to suck my cock and take it deep
in your throat while I fuck your mouth?  Will you do that for just one less
stroke?"

   Does it sound stupid to you to go through something else just to take
one less stroke?  Am I willing to make myself a little slut to buy my way
out of only 2% of this whipping?  Damn straight!  You can't know what it is
like to be whipped by a bullwhip until it happens.  I'd suck every penis in
this room for even one less stroke than the one I am buying.  I can't
believe I'm going to be able to take another forty-four strokes and live,
as it is.  This is hell beyond anything my father ever imagined.  "Oh God,
mister, I mean Sir!  Please fuck my mouth as hard and as deep as you want.
I will suck your p-p-cock for as long as you want.  Please let me suck your
cock, Sir.  Is there anything I can do to earn another stroke.  Sir?"

   "I warned you about offering a group like us 'anything'.  Let me see if
I can think of an anything that will be a hard choice against a whip stroke
while you suck cock like the whore you are.  You are a whore now, aren't
you honey...  say it!" "I am a whore, Sir." "Just what kind of whore are
you, honey?" "I am a cock whore, sir." "Tell me what you're going to do to
earn one less stroke.  We have all seen how you sucked Johnny's cock.  Tell
me how you're gonna suck my cock better to stop one whip blow than you did
for love.  Tell me just how big a whore you are." "I'm going to take your
cock in my throat deeper than I did Johnny's.  I'm going to let you fuck my
mouth like it was my pussy, Sir." "Why?" "Because I am a whore, Sir.  I
will sell you my mouth for one less whip stroke because I am a cock whore,
sir." "Well, pretty good.  Not many girls can make the transition from
virgin to whore in one week.  Are you sure you're really a whore?  How can
I know?" I couldn't begin to believe I was going to survive another
forty-four whip strokes like the one's I had taken so far.  "Please, Sir. I
am a whore.  I am a cock whore.  Please fuck my mouth.  Please fuck my ass.
Please fuck my cunny.  Just please stop whipping me.  I'll fuck all of you
any way you want, I swear I will.  Please stop!  I can't take it.  Please
don't whip me anymore.  I'll fuck all of you whenever you want.  Please
mister.  I mean Sir."

   "What was that?  I didn't recognize that word.  Did you say we could all
fuck your cunt.  That's what it is called, you know.  In fact, it is why
you are just a cunt.  We are all going to fuck your cunt.  Shit, we all
already did.  But I want to hear you tell us what you are.  Not just a
whore, but tell us what you have to offer us, as a whore.  You want to earn
less strokes?  Then make a concrete offer."

   "Please, Oh God please.  Why are you doing this?  I'll do anything. 
What do you want?  Oh god, please stop.  I'm a whore.  I'm a cock whore. 
I'm just a cunt for you to use.  I am a cunt with a cunt between my legs
for you all to fuck.  Are you happy now?  Oh God Please don't hurt me
anymore...  Please, mister.  I'll fuck all of you all you want.  Please
don't whip me anymore, Sir!"

   "Oh, we're just getting started, honey.  If anything, we're going to
make you look back on this day fondly, as the day you were gently broken
in. Your days of pain have just begun.  But the really rough stuff is for
another day.  Right now, I want you to say what I told you to say.  If you
can't even entertain me with that, I'll just have to get back to your
whipping, your extended whipping." "God, Please, No!  I'm a whore, sir. 
I'm a cock whore who is offering her cunt and everything else to all of you
to do whatever you want.  Just please stop.  Oh God, please stop.  Oh God,
please.  I'm just a dumb thirteen year old cunt for you all to fuck. 
Please stop hurting me."

   "Well, I guess before I see what you think you have to whore out, I
should see how well you carry through with your second trick.  Let her down
again."

   I was hysterical.  They ignored my cries and backed off the ropes on my
cuffs and I returned to the floor again.  Now the pain from moving my arms
competes with my backside, which is still on fire.  If it started out as a
ten, it is now still easily between an eight or nine.  My torn nipple is
throbbing with my heart, which is racing in my chest.  Above it all is an
intense burning between my legs.  The welt across my cunny is the worst. 
It throbs worse than my nipple.  I'd give anything to just be able to rub
it, even for a second.  It burns so badly.  I can't imagine a world where I
have to take another forty-four burning strokes.  Especially when he has
told me my cunny is a particular target.  I had decided the moment he told
me there was any way out of a whip blow, that there really wasn't anything
I wasn't prepared to do.  He's right.  I am now a total whore.  There is no
question I will volunteer for a gang rape to stop the whip.  I know I would
agree to having to participate in them raping me for hours to stop the
whip, even a stroke.  He's right, I've gone from virgin to complete whore
in only a week.

   The ropes slacked even more than before.  It was hard not to fall
forward.  He stepped forward and supported me.  The ropes slackened more.
With my head pressed against his stomach, I was looking at his penis,
inches from my lips.  But it wasn't happening yet.  He took my arms and
drew them up behind me, attaching the cuffs together.  I heard him say,
"Take her back up, 'til I tell you to stop." As my arms were drawn up
behind me, he stepped back.  The pain in my shoulders was instantaneous.  I
desperately tried to catch my balance to take the pressure off my arms.  As
I bend over hard to take the pressure off, I hear him say, "That's good"
The rope stops tightening and I am held as tautly as before.  But now I am
bent over hard and instead of ropes holding me totally motionless, it is
now pain that holds me in position.  He walks up to me, cock in my face
again.  "Show me you are selling something, whore!  This was your idea;
Your offer, from the beginning, remember?  Now start sucking cock like the
pro you are." I put my mouth on his penis and pushed down.  This really,
really hurt my shoulders.  "I thought you said you'd take my cock all the
way in your throat, cunt!  I saw you take all of Johnny's cock in your
throat.  I'm not that much bigger, cunt.  Get your little whore nose into
my pubes before I decide to give you an extra stroke for this pathetic blow
job.  If you aren't a pro, if you aren't a little cocksucking cock whore
who can't get enough, then you have nothing to bargain, nothing to offer
the whip but your cunt.  I can stick my cock in you whenever I want. 
Letting me do things isn't what you have to bargain, not even close.  What
you have to offer is what you will do on your own.  If you want to get
paid, it means you do all the work.  That's what it is to be a whore.  You
didn't decide to be our property.  That's what gets you tied down and
fucked.  That's what gets you whipped.  But being a whore?  That's your
idea honey.  If you don't like being a whore, just come off my cock.  I'll
have them draw you up and give you all hundred strokes.  As for the ass
fuck, I owe you one.  Tell you what, I'll even throw in the bargain strokes
and take another four off.  That would be only ninety-one to go.  C'mon
honey, what's another forty-seven whip strokes compared to your honor, your
pride!  Show me I can't break your spirit.  Show me you'd never, ever
become a whore.  Wait 'till we start really tricking you out and you're
doing it for money instead of whip strokes.  You're gonna learn all about
what it's like to be a whore and fuck for money.  That is, unless you're
too good for that.  All you have to do is lift off my cock and you'll tell
me you aren't a whore and you don't strike bargains with your honor and so
I can't trust you not to run and so you never leave this room the rest of
your life.  So what is it, honey?  Are you a full-fledged voluntary whore
or the prisoner of sadists?  It's all up to you.  Keep selling your body
for less whip strokes or take all hundred with your honor intact.  Ha-ha.
Who are you trying to kid?  You knew you were selling your body, the day
you decided to leave home without any money.  How the fuck did you think
you were going to make it.  You're pretty stupid, but not that stupid. 
Nobody's that stupid.  Now, fulfill your destiny, the future you were
destined for when you grew tits like this at thirteen.  Take my cock
completely down your throat and leave it there until I tell you
differently, or else you can forget your bargaining and take your whole
hundred."

   I pushed clear down his penis.  Without all the endorphins of my
multiple cums, it was much, much harder not to choke.  Then there was the
'wanting to' factor.  I was amazed how it was much different than when I
had wanted to.  Not that I didn't think it would be worlds different, but
it's even more than that.  It didn't help my esteem that I really was more
stupid than he thought.  I didn't know I was going to sell my body. 
Clearly I was stupid to think anything else.  With what is happening to me
this very second, covered in welts, tied painfully with a biker's penis in
my throat, selling my body on the street would be a big step up, on any
level you wanted to consider.

   He didn't ever tell me to come off his penis.  He took my head by my
hair, grabbing handfuls behind each ear.  As he smashed my nose into his
pubes again and again, all I could think of was having invited him to fuck
my mouth like my cunny.  He is doing just that.  But as horrible as it is;
As awful as what is going on in my mouth is, as painful as each stroke is
on my shoulders pinned above me.  I can still feel the welt on my cunny
above everything.  There is no question in my mind why I have become a
whore.  Anything, anything at all to stop another one of those.

   But my luck was not going to be that good.  It was clear after the first
day that my cunny would always be their prime target.  Any words to the
contrary were active subterfuge.  But I didn't know that yet.  I still
thought I could really change anything, that there was any of it they
hadn't already decided to do.  He was fucking my mouth so hard that it was
hurting the back of my throat as he burst past the back of my mouth.  He
was building to a climax, pushing me down harder and pushing his penis
deeper in my throat.  He stabbed my throat in a mighty plunge, and just as
my nose slammed against his pubic bone, the whip crashed into my cunny. 
Not bouncing off my ass crack, but landing directly on my cunny lips.  I
went instantly insane.  He locked my head to his crotch as my legs tried
desperately to flail behind me.  The searing pain of nearly dislocated
shoulders couldn't begin to compete with what was happening between my
legs. Somehow, with no air in my lungs and a penis buried in my throat, I
screamed.

   It was exactly what they were waiting for.  With my throat screaming
around his penis, he came at the entrance to my stomach.  He pulled out of
my mouth just as I was ready to pass out and left me there for fully five
minutes as I gyrated wildly, trying to diminish in any way the horror that
had become my cunny.  Finally, I returned to Earth and just hung in my
bonds sobbing.  I still was alternating my weight on one foot then the
other.  It still hurt so very, very badly.  My hair was matted to my face;
I was bathed in sweat; I felt like I had just run a marathon.  I had no
idea how exhausting it was to be whipped.  It must be tensing every muscle
as tightly as you can.  He came over and pulled my head up by my hair. 
"Well, my little whore, do you remember when I told you I would come up
with a hard bargain for you to sell your body with?" "Y-yes, Sir." "Well,
here's your next sale.  If you suck down the cocks of nine more of my boys
and make them cum the exact way you just did me, complete with the whip,
then I will call your backside whipping over.  You know I can hit you
there, anyway.  Will you take nineteen hanging up...  or nine with a cock
in your throat and your cunt pushed out at the whip.  Either is fine with
me."

   While every single thing that has happened here is as bad as anything
could ever be, the next two hours were among the longest of my life.  Half
the guys were so dirty, it was all I could do not to throw up.  Every blow
to my poor cunny was worse than the last and in addition to the last. 
After two hours they hit my cunny so much I can feel little traces of blood
trickling out of the deep welts right across my cunny.  My other set of
lips is bleeding too, after cock after cock rammed my throat.  I can't even
feel my shoulders, probably a good thing.  My sweat burns into my welts.

   My captor pulls my head up by my hair again.  "Hey, that wasn't so bad,
was it honey?  Don't forget, this is the day you were eased gently into
your future life.  You've got another twenty-four strokes coming on your
front side.  I don't trade these as easily, so it won't be easy like the
last ten were.  I really like looking into a cunt's eyes as she sees the
whip coming at her.  The sheer terror is so vivid.  It really gets me off.
The tits and clit are right there and an occasional face shot is nice from
time to time.  Naw, I treasure every strike from the front.  The price for
those is much higher.  You wouldn't be interested in whoring out for those,
would you?  The price is too high." "How high, Sir?" "High!" "Like what,
Sir?" Like I let you down to your knees with your arms above you.  One of
my boys lays under you and you fuck him like a bitch in heat with your raw
bleeding cunt.  While you do that, I'll give you three more strokes on your
tits.  Do that, and you're down to twenty strokes.  That fuck will buy you
one stroke and only one stroke.  Take it or leave it." "I'll take it, Sir"
I couldn't believe how much it hurt to move on him.  His pubic hair tore
into my raw cunny like steel wool.  The slightest movement was sheer hell
and I was expected to fuck him like the whore I am.  The whip started
tearing into my tits and I didn't think it was possible to be any more
miserable than I am.  I know I've said that to myself at least five times
since I got here, but every time it's true.  It seemed to take forever. 
But finally it ended.

   The ropes brought me up taut again.  He took a stance in front of me. 
He began to pull back his whip when I called out.  "Sir, Isn't there
anything you want your little whore to do for you?  Can I offer you any
service, no matter how degrading?" He broke out in a loud laugh, the other
joined in.  "Oh sweetheart, you have no idea all the services I have in
mind for you.  You don't have the slightest idea what degrading is, but you
will.  But for now, I just want to hurt you.  I want to watch those globes
bounce under my whip.  I want to see you desperately and futilely trying to
get your legs together.  Nothing you can offer me is anything I won't have
from you sooner or later.  As I already told you, this is my favorite part
of whipping a girl...  Nah, you're getting all twenty strokes, there's
nothing you have to offer that comes anywhere near the fun this is going to
be.  For all your whoring all your begging, I'm going to beat your tits and
cunt until you pass out.  Then they're going to throw water on you and I'm
going to start in again." "What can I do?  I'll do anything, absolutely
anything.  I'm your whore, what can I do?" "You can scream, little cunt,
you can scream."

   I don't know how long it was before I woke up.  Well, it wasn't really
waking up.  It was coming to.  I noted the difference when, as he had
predicted, I couldn't sleep because of how much my body hurt.  There was no
comfortable position.  Every part of me hurt awfully.  My breasts and
cunny, all of the front of my body was painted with ugly black and purple
welts.  There was even a slash across my cheek that gave me a black eye. 
All I really remember is the horrible, horrible pain of every stroke. 
Watching him look straight into my eyes on every stroke.  He was really
enjoying this.  Even after fucking me on the pool table, fucking my ass at
the beginning of the whipping and then cuming in my stomach, I couldn't
believe how his penis sprung up on the first stroke and stayed hard for
every single one that followed.  They had to throw water on me twice.

   Now I am in a glorified broom closet.  No, I take that back.  Now I am
in a broom closet without brooms.  There is a thin mattress with no bedding
on the floor and nothing else.  I am naked.  I don't think I could take
anything on my skin anyway.  The window has that criss cross of steel I
have seen all over the city.  Only here it is on the inside too.  The
window faces an alley.  There is no one to plead for help to.  It was as if
he read my mind.  He opened the door and came in.  "You don't ever want to
look at the window that way.  You whored your way down to a puny 31
strokes. If bolting is worth two hundred strokes; Then, looking at the
window like that is worth a hundred.  Don't say you weren't warned.  Know
that if anyone ever does show up at that window, we'll hear you a long time
before they do.  Yelling out the window is the full two hundred.  You
really want me standing in front of you with a whip for a hundred strokes?
Nobody wants to fuck you like you are, covered in welts and all.  You're a
fuckin' mess.  You'll be a couple of weeks before the black and purple
one's go away enough to be able to ignore.  You been able to sleep yet?" I
nodded my head, "No!" "Pretty soon you'll get so exhausted you'll fall out.
In a week or two it will barely hurt at all.  You're a good one.  You're
feisty and dumb.  You're gonna give me lots of opportunity to lay stripes
on those great tits.  I just know it.  I'm gonna love every stripe too. 
Now, I'm not as squeamish as most.  I really don't care how striped up you
are.  I'm interested in the inside.  I've got your meal outside the door.
Get down on your mattress and stick your ass up so I can fuck you.  If I
feed you, I get to fuck you.  Hell, I get to fuck you anyway.  That's why
you won't pick now for a hunger strike.  The food is optional, the fuck
isn't.  Now get your legs apart and your ass in the sky, cunt!  Damn you're
tight, we need more thirteen year olds.  You take a beating pretty good
too. You'll do two hundred strokes easy.  I can't wait.

   Once you heal up, you can start learning to earn your keep and be a real
whore, like you were born to.  A little make-up and we can get you out
there in no time.  Damn, in no time, we'll be able drive a truck up your
ass too.  What a pity!  Bring your hands back and pull your cheeks apart
for me.  Then ask me to fuck you up the ass.  Do a good job or I'll string
you up and give you ten stripes because I'm bored." I reached back and
pulled my cheeks apart.  "Please fuck my ass, Mister" "Whatever you want,
my dear.  Know that while I'm fucking your ass, I'm thinking of something
you can do for all of us for your 'anything".  Remember you said you'd do
anything.  Well, that's just what you're gonna do.  I've even got a couple
of weeks to think of something really awful.  I'm trying to decide on
painful, degrading or both.  I'm leaning toward both.  For now, after I cum
in your ass, you're going to turn around and lick your shit off my cock. 
Do a good job and I'll feed you.  Welcome to your new life.  This is all it
is until we whore you out.  Or you give me an excuse to whip you.  I bet if
I could get a couple hundred strokes into you I could take you out for a
month.  Some of the really deep shit would never go away.

   Clean my dick with your mouth slave.  That's what you are, you know.  We
bought you from Johnny and you're nothing but a thirteen year old sex
slave, whore.  Anytime you don't like being a whore, you can go back to
being the prisoner of sadists.  Then you owe me sixty-nine stripes.  If you
aren't a whore you can't deal your way out.  Is there anything on Earth you
wouldn't do to keep the whip off your cunt?  "No, Sir!" "I'm really looking
forward to watching you prove that.  For now, I want you to show me the
welts on your cunt." I turned around and opened my legs to him.  He had hit
me there over twenty times out of the thirty-one.  My mound was a mass of
deep ugly welts.  It hurt to move my legs.  "We're going to play a little
game.  Any time you tire of our little game we can string you up and find
games to play with a whip." He pulled a big thick rubber band out of his
pocket; The kind that goes around produce.  "Hold this just above your clit
with two spread fingers and don't let it move, no matter what." I did as I
was told.  He took the other end of the band and pulled it up hard.  I
could barely hold it down.  He held it around eight inches above my wounded
mound and let go.  The band slammed into the raw flesh on and around my
clit.  I screamed.  Tears poured down my cheeks, but my fingers didn't
move. He was clear that his goal was to get me to fuck up so he can whip
me. I'm not going to fuck-up.  "Ready to sell your body, whore cunt?" "Yes,
Sir!" Here's today's deal.  You can watch me do that to your clit
twenty-five more times, Or you can lift your clit hood for me so I can get
your unprotected clit.  Then after you expose you clit to my torture you
can suck me off.  Since I just came in your ass, it's gonna be a long, long
blow job.  But it's not twenty-five strikes to your clit, is it?" I reached
down and exposed my clit as I closed my eyes.  "Open your fuckin eyes and
watch me do this to you.  Better still, since you decided to be such a
pussy about this, watch you do this to you.  Take hold of this end of the
band and pull it up higher, until I tell you to stop." I took hold of the
loose end of the band and tentatively took hold.  "C'mon, pull on it,
cunt!" I pulled on the band, steeling myself for what was coming.  "Pull it
harder.  C'mon bitch, get it up higher than I had it!" I pulled the band up
until I could hardly keep my two fingers either side of my clit.  "Don't
let go yet.  You need a hand" With that, he reached down and pulled my clit
hood back, exposing my bare clit.  "Ok, cunt, you can let go now.  But no
moving your hand.  Just release the band." I let go of the rubber band and
it slammed into my exposed clit.  I screamed and tears wet my eyes.  "That
was fun.  Let's do it once more.  You don't mind playing this game do you?"
I shook my head, "No." "This time take it up a little higher.  Like for
instance, as high as you can get it without moving the fingers on your
cunt." I pulled on the rubber band.  "C'mon baby, you can get it a lot
higher than that.  Or would you just rather I do it for twenty-five times?"
I pulled the band as far as I could.  He again lifted my clit hood.  "You
can get it higher than that.  Or do you need me to show you how,
twenty-five times?" I pulled up the band the little more that I could. 
"Ok, if you want this to stop you're gonna have to make it good for me. 
Keep pulling as hard as you can and ask my permission to sting your clit.
Beg me to let you hurt yourself and if you do a good job, I might not think
you have to keep learning this.  We're gonna do this until I think you got
it right." "Please, Mister, I mean, Sir.  Please let me hurt my clit for
you.  I know you like to se me hurt.  Let me hurt myself for you.  Please
make it just this once, please mister.  Please Sir" "Let go by pulling the
band up until it slips from your fingers!" I did as I was told and let the
band slam into my raw clit.  Having just been stung, the band had made the
welts all around my clit start oozing again.  The raw skin around my cunny
was almost as sensitive as my clit.  The band snapped and put me in agony
again.  The tears were streaming down my face.  "Again, just like last
time, for practice." I again pulled the band up and asked permission to
hurt myself.  Again the band tore into raw sex organs.  Damn, bitch! 
You'll do fuckin' anything to avoid the whip, won't you?  I bet I could
take a dump in your mouth and make you lick your lips, just by threatening
one lash.  You'd just lay there and let me do it.  Anything to avoid being
hung up again." I just sat there, tears streaming down my face.  "Well,
that will be an experience for another day.  I bet you're really cute with
a turd sticking out of your mouth, but I'm too anxious to get my extended
blow job to check it out now.  So start sucking my cock as though you were
going to have to eat shit if you didn't do a good job." I bent over and
took him in my mouth.  All the welts on my tits and belly burned as I bent
over.  My clit was still on fire.  His hands went to the back of my head
and pressed me down to the base of his penis.  "You're gonna be a lot of
fun, I can tell." He proceeded to fuck my mouth for over half an hour
before leaving my closet/cell.

   He was back at my cell daily, sometimes twice.  Every time started with
one of his games and ended with him fucking me somewhere.  All of his games
involved inflicting pain on me.  Usually ending in me having to do it to
myself.  Always involving one of my sexual parts.  It became obvious that
every time he left me it was to go think up some new awful way to hurt me,
always presented with the alternative of being hung up and whipped.  As
horrible as some of the things he has done to me are, he has yet to come
close to the horror of watching that awful whip coming at my cunny or
breasts and feeling it tear away my most sensitive skin from my most tender
places.

   Time passed.  It seemed like years.  In fact, it was around two or three
weeks.  I wasn't keeping track.  Whether I ever leave this place alive or
not, I really don't need to know how long I have endured this.  I know it
is a few weeks because most of the welts have faded and the others have
scabbed and are nearly gone too.  He came to my cell and I was ready to get
hurt and fuck him as usual.  After all this time I still didn't know his
name and knew better than to ask.  Instead of stabbing my nipples and clit
with hypo needles, which had been my last torture, he told me to get up and
follow him.  I was naked.  I haven't worn clothes since I was stripped my
first hour here, weeks ago.  he walked into the biker bar proper. 
Reluctantly, I followed.  I had barely stepped through the doorway when
they were all over me.  Fingers poked deep into cavities; breasts were
mauled by competing hands.  My ass was being slapped non-stop.  The leader
pulled me free and lifted me up on a table.  "Boys, say hello to Wendy."
There were as many of them who distinctly said 'Hello cunt" as used my
name. "Wendy is our newest wage earner.  I mean, somebody's gotta earn our
gas and booze.  Wendy has only been a whore for a couple of weeks now, but
between you and me, she took to it like a fish to water.  Well, you all saw
how she couldn't get enough of Johnny's cock.  She was a virgin then, but
she's learned a lot in a couple of weeks.  She's spent most of that time
growing skin back to the places a whip took it off her.  I need you boys to
get her used to what she is going to be doing all her waking hours from now
on.  Break her in to all the weird things she is going to be made to do. 
That is to say, go all perve on her so she knows what she's up against. 
With a body like this, most of her johns will be happy just to fuck her,
but I want you guys to show her what the 'special options' are and what she
should charge for them.  Give her the best one-day schooling you can and
we'll open her up for business, so to speak, tomorrow."

   He pulled me down from the table and led me through a door.  The door
led to a hall with a series of doors leading off the main hallway.  "This
is our whorehouse.  It is where you will live from now on.  Though you are
strictly forbidden to mingle in any way, let me introduce you to your
housemate.  Remember the fifteen year old who made it to seventeen?  Well,
she's still here." He opened a door and a haggard, emaciated, girl who
looked to be forty, sat on a bed.  She had deep circles under her eyes, and
her body was covered with faint lines where the whip had left permanent
scars, some of them very distinct and ugly.  The moment he opened the door,
she jumped up with a start and curled into a ball on the corner of the bed.
She looked like a terrified trapped animal.  "Wendy, meet Betsy.  You're
going to have to forgive her manners, but after her fifth series of two
hundred strokes, the double, about six months ago, she stopped talking. 
She's a record holder, you know.  She's the only one to live through a
thousand strokes.  Well, not all at once.  Nobody could do that.  But her
last time, she took four hundred in one hanging.  I personally strung her
up and gave her twenty-five, telling her I would stop when she spoke.  I
knew after a couple of blows that she wasn't going to.  But then I don't
have to tell you how much I enjoy whipping a woman from the front.  I just
couldn't stop myself until twenty-five.  The cunt forgot how to talk.  But
we don't need her to talk, so it doesn't matter.  The worst part of that is
we couldn't whore her out for a couple of months, the marks were so bad. 
As you can see, they never really went away." "Betsy!  Show Wendy your
asshole!" As she uncurled from her fetal ball, her appearance was even more
shocking.  Her breasts were badly scarred with one of her nipples
completely disfigured.  I felt a twinge in my healing split nipple as I
looked at her.  She opened her legs to prepare to turn around and her cunny
was covered in ugly scars.  Her cunny lips hung down, distended.  One of
them was torn nearly to the entrance, and healed as two pieces.  She turned
around and exposed her butt.  There wasn't a space on her butt that wasn't
covered in scars.  As she pushed up her butt and reached back, there was no
reason to reach back.  Her asshole gaped as though she had been ass fucked
by the Jolly green giant within the last five minutes.  Seeing me staring
at her deformed anus, he commented.  "See why I appreciate your tight
asshole?  Hers has been like that for nearly a year.  You can practically
drive around in her cunt.  That's why we bought you.  It's hard to get more
than $20 for her blowjobs these days.  Nobody wants to fuck her, at all. 
We're hoping to get a last few bucks out of her by selling her for a snuff
flick.  Those audiences like their victims covered in scars.  But starting
you out at thirteen, you should be good for three or four years.  You're
going to singlehandedly revitalize our whorehouse.  Well, it won't exactly
be your hand." Looking at this girl who I couldn't believe was seventeen,
chilled me to the core.  At the same time it made me want to try to run
more than ever before.  But seeing how she had been reduced to a beaten
wild animal by the whip, made me even more frightened to try anything. 
"Wanna see what she's good for now?  Betsy, twist your good nipple until it
makes you cry!" Without the slightest hesitation or expression she took
hold of her nipple and started twisting it.  She had it at something well
over 360 degrees, when tears flowed from her eyes.  "That's good, you can
let go now." She released her nipple.  "You look tired Betsy.  Punch
yourself in the face until you pass out." Just as passively, she made a
fist and brought it up to her face.  Bam, her nose started bleeding.  She
had really hit herself hard.  Next she hit herself in the eye.  It started
swelling up almost immediately.  "This is horrible, please stop her! 
Please!" "Tell me to punch you in the gut as hard as I can, and I'll stop
her." I looked over, she had split her lip.  "Please punch me in the gut as
hard as you can, Mister.  I mean, Sir." 'Actually, you're giving me a
liking for 'mister'.  It reminds me that you're only thirteen.  You can
stop, Betsy." It was scary.  She passively dropped her arms and made no
attempt to wipe away the blood from her nose or her lip.  She was ten
thousand miles away from her body and there was no question in my mind
about why.  How could you live in a body that had been through what she has
in the last two years?  "Wendy, stand against the wall so I can hurt you
more.  Put your arms out like you were on a cross.  Good!  Now, arch your
back and get your bellybutton as close to me as you can without taking your
shoulders or butt off the wall."

   It was so bad; it was good.  There had been a horrible impact.  I felt
this horrible pain in my gut, then my back hit the wall.  I could sorta
feel his fist compress everything inside me, and in an instant, I was gone.
I woke up in bed, in a room not unlike Betsy's.  My tummy hurt something
awful and I could taste vomit in my mouth.  "Welcome back.  I was afraid I
was gonna have to throw some water on you and that would have messed up
your bed for your customers.  I forgot how new you are and how you aren't
used to getting hit like that.  But don't worry, you'll learn to stay with
me for those, soon enough.  Shit, I was hardly playin' with you.  We need
to toughen you up or you'll never get past our best payin' customers.  The
one's that do a little damage pay the best.  Damn, we used to charge them
by how long and loud Betsy screamed." He went to the corner and opened the
closet.  He brought out both leather and metal handcuffs, all sorts of
leather things I didn't recognize, in spite of all my reading.  He took out
an assortment of whips.  When I saw the whips, I'm sure I wasn't all that
far from the expression of raw fear I had seen in Betsy's eyes when we went
into her room.  "Don't freak out on me.  There aren't any single tails
here. Single tails or bullwhips, are made to injure and maim.  It's why I
love watching the look on your face when you cunts get hit with one. 
Customers aren't allowed to use a bullwhip unless they pay every penny
you're worth in advance.  We can't trust customers not to kill you with
one. Comparatively unmarked and thirteen, nobody who comes around here can
afford you.  You'll have to go downhill an awful lot before you have to
worry about bullwhips.  That is, unless you fuck up.  You may have noticed,
I use single tails exclusively.  None of these will do nearly the damage.
These whips are made to sting the hell out of you.  I'm told the impact is
almost as bad, but more of a knife blade than the heavy thud of a bullwhip.
The welts turn bright red instead of black and purple and they hardly raise
up at all.  They're gone in days not weeks.  Why I bet after a couple of
whippings with these, you can get to sleep by the second night." "Now
here's what's gonna happen.  You're going to spend the next six hours with
the boys acting like customers.  It will be a dry run that will be anything
but dry.  You will do everything you are told by anyone, down to the
letter, as cheerfully as you can muster.  If anyone asks, you're 18 and
being voluntarily pimped by your biker boyfriend.  It's what they expect.
After that, you'll do your first two shifts of real customers.  The
assortment of restraints and whips on the table will serve as a menu.  If
somebody wants to shit in your mouth while he pees on your belly and smacks
your cunt with a buggy whip, you will wipe the shit off your teeth, smile,
and get top dollar for it.  Refusing or pissing off a customer in any way
is an automatic 75 strokes, 50 of them from the front.  I never got a good
piece of your tits or face last time.  Maybe you'll give me another chance.
Then, of course, you'll have to make up your lost earnings while you heal
by taking the harder, kinkier trade.  Some of them might even pay extra for
you all stroked up.  You'll do three six hour shifts a day with half hour
meal breaks and five to sleep.  Once a week you get to go outside for an
hour and once a month you get to go out in a car and see the world.  We
found if we didn't do the last two, the girls didn't last nearly as long.
You gotta keep showing them the world outside so they have something to
live for, no matter how unlikely.  I'll be one of your customers from time
to time.  Think of it as 'quality control'." He went to the door and opened
it.  As he left he turned.  "Have a nice life as a fuck hole and just
remember.  You could be in a warm house in a warm bed with mommy and daddy
feeding you wonderful meals.  But you didn't want that.  You're a thirteen
year old whore/sex slave who will be lucky to see eighteen.  Remembering
that Betsy turns eighteen next month, maybe lasting to eighteen isn't the
best outcome, after all.  And it's all because of how stupid you are, dumb
cunt!  I'll be one of your first customers.  I can't wait to ream that
tight little asshole again while it's still tight." The door closed and
locked.  I looked around.  Not a lot to see.  One floor lamp that cast
light on the ceiling for diffused light in the room.  A minimalist bed,
thin mattress on stretched springs.  A single small table littered with sex
toys and whips with a chair next to it; a toilet without a seat and a cold
water sink; just a single sheet; not a lot to my life now.

   It wasn't very long before my first customer came in.  I sorta
recognized him from my gang rape when I first got here.  Besides getting
off, they really were instructing me.  Teaching me terms that men might ask
for: 'Rimming' and other disgusting things like that.  Most of
them were happy just to make me do something disgusting like rimming or

sucking their balls and then cum into one of my orifices.  A few liked to
hear girls scream.  I did a lot of screaming.  Screaming is top dollar.

   He had been right.  Customers weren't nearly as savage with a whip as he
was.  Even though half a dozen of his friends had whipped me, and now four
or five real customers, I was so exhausted by the end of my first day, I
fell asleep right away, even though my breasts stung something awful. 
Though I had sworn to myself that I wouldn't the score for my first day was
forty-one customers, twenty-nine of those paying for a total of around
$4000.  Never let it be said I'm not a top dollar whore.

   It was pretty hard to keep track of time.  Nothing really changed.  An
especially big or small penis; a sadistic cruel whip blow; a particularly
degrading, disgusting request: These were the demarcations of my life. 
Even the car rides were routine.  Tied tightly under a coat in the back of
a passenger van was hardly an outing.

   Like most girls I had always hated my period.  Now especially.  While
there were men who paid extra to fuck me then and even some who wanted to
suckle at my bleeding cunny, by and large, my period was when my business
went down and I had to make it up by taking on extra 'rough trade'.  So
usually getting my period meant getting whipped and having the shit kicked
out of me for a few days during and after.  But it was a miracle that I was
having periods at all.

   I've had three periods since I got here so I've been here between three
and four months, call it fourteen weeks.  With time out for healing and
between forty and fifty customers a day that's around 300 guys a week for
say twelve weeks.  Oh shit, even rounding everything down to a bare
minimum, In less than six months after losing my virginity, I've fucked
well over three thousand guys.

   A customer comes in.  Wordlessly he ties me to the corners of the bed.
He takes the buggy whip and lays a dozen quick lashes to my tits.  As I lie
there screaming he throws off his clothes, jumps on the bed and facing my
feet lays five strokes into my cunny.  I'm just screaming at a new octave
over this when he sticks a gigantic penis in my mouth, maybe the biggest
I've ever seen.  He uses it to start fucking my mouth as hard as my cunny
has ever been fucked.  And that's saying a lot.  I lose it and throw up. 
He slaps my face calls me a dumb cunt and rams his giant cock back into my
throat ad holds it there.  I struggle for air as best I can but I'm tied
down with him sitting on my chest.  I remember being totally panicked as I
ran out of air, then everything went black.

   I woke up hanging in the first room I had been taken to when I got here.
I was stretched taut.  No sooner had I come to when the single tail cut
into my back and down across my ass.  "You finally fucked up, my sweet. 
You've made my whip wait so long for you." He was next to me mocking me. 
"You shouldn't have made me wait so long.  You've allowed me to choreograph
this a hundred times in my head and decide what would be the cruelest. 
Beside that, there's nothing that would bring home what a whore you are
than the fifty guys a day you fuck for money, so you'll be getting all
seventy-five strokes.  I promised myself two things.  I now promise to you.
Every one of the seventy-five strokes will be worse than the last and
before I even start on the front of you, you will have screamed yourself
hoarse.

   Every last one of the twenty-five on my back was worse than the last. 
He had to throw water on me three times.  I couldn't scream anymore and he
hadn't put his lash on my cunny yet.  He had brought the whip up so it tore
at the stretched flesh where my thighs met my trunk and he had visited my
perineum repeatedly.  But he was clearly unsure if he could keep upping the
ante if he started in on my cunny.  When he came around front, he laid the
first fifteen on my belly and thighs, by now, he was leaving torn skin and
ugly purple welts with every stroke.  That's when he laid into my tits.  He
laid nine agonizing strokes on each breast, alternating.  Each one tearing
the flesh, splitting both my nipples so blood flowed freely down both my
breasts.  The blood was cleaned off, by the water he had to thrown on me
three times, just while he whipped my breasts.  He first hit my cunny with
seventeen strokes to go.  I couldn't believe I had lived through
fifty-eight.  Every inch of my body was covered in raised, bleeding welts.
My welts are oozing so much that there are drops of blood dripping from my
toes.  Just when I think I can't be made to suffer more, he starts in on my
cunny.  By the fifth blow I woke to the bucket of water.  I could feel that
he had torn one of my inner lips and worse, I think my clit hood is torn
too.  Twelve strokes to go and he is sworn to make each and every one
worse. He's already tearing my cunny apart.  In another twelve strokes will
I have a clit?  Will I even have a cunny?  I couldn't look at Betsy's
cunny. I could tell it was scarred but I didn't look at her that hard. 
Does she still have a clit?  He slammed the big whip between my legs again
and again.  I had to be revived for every one of the last seven of ten
strokes.  Every bucket of water ran red once it got between my legs.  Two
to go.  He was in my face.

   "You know your cunt is going to remember me forever.  I've changed it.
You must know if I hit your cunt harder two more times, you won't have a
usable cunt.  There's a lot of people who would be really mad at me for
that, so you get the last two in the face.  Those had to be last, all
along. They'll put you in la la land for a while." He was right again. 
After the horror of seeing the whip coming at my face, there was nothing.
He didn't wake me for the second, but I would find both my cheeks burned
like the rest of my body.

   I woke up.  No, came to is the operative word again.  There's no way I'm
sleeping in this much pain for another few days.  I'm in my whoring room,
lying on the bed.  I need to pee and I know it's not going to be easy. 
There's some sort of brownish stuff all over me.  I assume it is medicinal,
to keep off infection.  I know I make them too much money to kill me for
nothing.  I notice I am breathing through my mouth.  Shit, I think my nose
is broken.  I'm an incredible mess.  If they brought in a new recruit now,
I bet I'm scarier than Betsy, because I'm clearly in pain, on so many
levels.  I try to get up.  Everything, but everything hurts.  The slightest
movement of my legs sets my cunny on fire.  I try to get up again.  The
sheet sticks to my oozing wounds.  I have to painfully pull it off my skin.
It hurt so much to get to my feet that I cry out.  My throat still hurts
from hours of screaming with no voice.  I take the tiniest steps to move my
cunny as little as possible.  I reach the bathroom and it hurts too much to
squat and I let my thighs be supported the porcelain.  I began to pee and
that's when I screamed.  My voice couldn't take it and went hoarse
immediately and I was left to silently scream as my injured cunny burned as
though I was peeing acid.

   I was able to sleep a few hours within a few days and I could pee
without screaming within a week.  It got easier to move without wincing. 
Food seemed to magically appear on my table while I slept.  As miserable as
I was, and as little as there was to do, I slept a lot.  My body needed to
heal and it was the most sleep they had allowed me in months.  He didn't
start coming to my cell until the third week.  At first, he only asked for
blow jobs.  He could hardly fuck me, I had discovered pretty quickly that
my face blows had make me not have to be awake for my cunny to be repaired.
Now there were still stitches in my torn lip and clit hood.  I wasn't sorry
I wasn't awake for that stitching.  As time progressed, he started
including my anus.  It had been a month, I had another period.  Maybe I'm
too scared to get pregnant, too fucked over.  It was the longest I had gone
without having to service customers since I had become a real whore.  But
it also took a lot longer to heal this time.  There were lines on my
breasts that made me wonder if they would ever go away.  With bits of
thread holding my genitals together, I didn't have to speculate about
scarring between my legs.  Surely my ass was scarred too.

   He told me I was being allowed to heal up completely because they wanted
me to make a movie.  When he saw my eyes get wide he looked at me.  "Don't
worry.  It's not that I have any qualms about you grinning into the camera
with ten cocks in you, but because of your age, your face will never make
the screen.  So I can't even play my games with your clit.  I don't dare
open the tear again...  Not if your cunt is going to be a movie star."

   It wasn't even a week before he came to get me.  I barely had a visible
mark left, except for the fine lines that you had to be really close to
see. They bound me up in the bonds that fit under the coat for my car
trips. As we headed over the Richmond-San Rafael bridge.  We headed North
on 101.  Somewhere past Laytonville we pulled off the highway and onto a
ranch.

   We stopped in front of a large barn.  He pulled me from the van and
stripped off the coat and bonds and put a dog collar and leash on me.  He
took the leash and told me to stay on my knees.  He led me into the barn.
He led me along a long row of stalls toward one at the end that was lit up.
He led me in and it was a stall that had been made of two and recently
painted bright white.  It was full of lights and the hay on the floor
didn't smell as bad as what I had just crawled through.

   He turned and looked down at me.  "Ok, here's the speech that goes with
this one.  I don't know why, but every girl I ever brought here gets
squeamish.  Let me tell you why I know you aren't going to give me any
trouble.  I have at least a hundred reasons, maybe even two hundred reasons
why you aren't going to give me the slightest bit of trouble.  Am I right?"
"Yes, Mister" I knew if I ever had to face two hundred strokes, I would
find a way to kill myself.  I don't think I could do another seventy-five.
It's just too, too awful.  "In a few minutes, the crew is coming in here
and shooting a movie.  First you're giving him a blow job.  We have a mask
you can wear.  After that, he's gonna fuck you.  For the first shot the
camera is going to focus on his cock in your mouth and then pull back to
see his cum drip on your tits.  For the fuck, the camera will be on your
cunt, watching his cock move in and out of you.  Are you ready?  "Yes,
Mister!" "The one part I haven't mentioned is that your co-star is a
horse." My eyes turned to saucers when he said this.  I have to fuck a
horse?  This is my worst nightmare.  It's like I'm back on the farm.  "Get
that fuckin look off your face.  If you weren't shooting a movie right here
and now I'd take my belt off right here and lay ten into your cunt for the
look on your face.  Are you really so stupid that you don't know I'd much
rather lay another hundred into you, than watch you fuck a horse.  Are you
really gonna make it that easy for me, honey?  I'll even promise to give
you at least twenty-five from behind.  But I don't know if they'll be able
to sew your cunt back together this time.  So if you have any problem
fucking a horse on camera, just let me know now.  I'll have you home and
strung up in no time.  Do you really prefer the whip?" I shook my head. 
"Good!  There's no trick to it really.  Put on your mask and when they
bring the horse in, get up on your knees.  His dick will hang down so you
can easily get it in your mouth.  Needless to say, horses aren't
circumcised.  You'll have to pull his foreskin up, you'll have to pull it
up nearly a foot.  Once you have it up it'll look much more like a cock.  I
know it's been a while, but you remember what a cock looks like don't you?"
I again nodded my head.  "All you do is take it in your mouth and lock your
lips around the head.  Then just start jacking him off.  They don't really
get all that hard, you'll be able to move it around pretty easily.  As for
the fuck, like I said, it's nearly three feet of cock but he really doesn't
get all that hard.  I guess horse pussy is pretty loose.  You're going to
be on a table under him and I'm sure you're scared of three feet of rock
hard cock driven by twelve hundred pounds of horse, fucking you.  It won't
be like that at all.  He'll barely get hard enough to get him in your cunt.
We want him to fuck your ass too, but you might still be too tight, we'll
see."

   "When he cums in your mouth, you'll never get it all down, which makes
for great theater.  It'll come pouring out of your mouth like you were
bringing up a pint of cream.  Smile for the camera when it happens.  Then,
for your fuck, we get another horse to fuck you.  Once he cums in you, one
of the hands will pull the horse cock out, the minute he cums, so we can
get a shot of your cunt spraying horse cum everywhere.  Then they bring in
a new horse, bend you over the table and he fucks your ass.  I'm glad the
camera is focusing on the horse cock sticking out of your ass, because I'm
going to be in front of you, watching the look on your face when a twelve
hundred pound horse cums up your ass.  I've never seen a thirteen year old
take a full load with a horse's cock sticking out of her ass, before.  I
can't wait.  Maybe I'll have you suck my cock while he cums in you.

   It all went pretty much like he said it would.  Of course, he forgot to
mention what I already knew, that horse crotch is one of the worst smelling
things on Earth.  What I didn't know was that horse cum tasted worse than
horse crotch smelled.  Nor did I know that he came buckets.  The horse came
in my mouth with me stupidly doing what I was told, wrapping my lips around
the head.  When he came, my mouth exploded with torrents of cum.  I choked.
It went down my throat the wrong way and pretty soon I had horse cum
pouring out of my nose.  It poured and poured out of my mouth and all over
my breasts and thighs.  I was completely covered in cum.

   I was completely drenched in cum when they put me up on the table to get
fucked.  I was more than a little nervous.  I had just held close to three
feet of horse cock in my hands and mouth and was pretty frightened about
the idea of lying under this huge animal and his three foot cock.  I know
from hundreds, no thousands of men, at this point, how men felt about
pushing hard into my cunny, I was afraid of him wanting to cum too deeply
in me with something that big.  I was more afraid of him than his cock.  I
lay on the table as they fed the horse's penis into my cunny.r It was
weird. It felt exactly like the thousands of cocks that had fucked me in
the last few months.  It was the biggest by far, duh!  Probably by a
multiple of two, but it was still just a cock.  I was expecting something
really different.  Then he came in me and that's what I got.  Something
really different!  It was like a fire hose shooting against my womb.  The
force of his cum filled me so completely, there wasn't any room for his
cock anymore.  My cunny was as filled as it ever had been.  But he never
got rock hard like a man.  When he exploded in me, it pushed his semi-hard
cock out with a huge gush of cum like the classic picture of an oil well.
It was the strangest thing I had ever felt.  But that would change only
fifteen minutes later.

   Fifteen minutes later they had me bent over the table.  As I said, he
felt like a cock only bigger.  This wasn't true in my ass.  Between how
soft he was and how tight I was, even thought I had been ass fucked
hundreds of times, it was different than any of them.  They had to stuff
him in me like overstuffing a suitcase.  It kept popping out of me until
they had enough of him deep enough in my ass to stay.  My tormentor was in
my face for all of it, just as he said he would be.  He was naked and erect
as they pumped the horse cock in and out of my backside.  I thought he was
going to make me suck him while the horse fucked my ass, but as he said,
he'd rather look at my face when it came in me.  There was a reason which I
found out only too soon.  He had done this before, I hadn't.  Of the three
places, a horse had now been in me, cuming in my ass was the worst.

   Had anyone cared what I thought, and asked me, I would have predicted
that my mouth would be the worst.  The taste, the huge cock head in my
mouth, the smell.  The whole experience is pretty nasty.  And as I said,
getting fucked by a horse is just plain weird.  But a horse in your ass is
painful, any way you cut it.  First, he gets as hard as he ever gets, while
stuck in that tight place.  He may not get rock hard, but when you have a
foot of horse cock up your ass, he doesn't have to get all that hard to
painfully stretch you.  So when they moved him in an out of me, it really
hurt.  Not that he didn't stretch my cunny something awful, when he fucked
me, I haven't been a whore that long.  But then he was just painfully
stretching my cunny.  They are made to stretch.  In my Butt, he was tearing
me apart.  No sooner had they gotten enough in me to stay, than he hardened
up.  Maybe not rock hard, but a lot more than before.  When you have a cock
as big as a horse, how hard does it have to get to hurt a thirteen year old
girl's asshole?  He was big and hard enough that they never could have
gotten him in there when he was this big.

   Things are as bad as they can be without bullwhips.  I am bent over a
table with a 1200 pound animal fucking my ass with a three foot cock.  The
worst sadist I have ever met in my life is inches from my face waiting for
this monster to cum in me so he can fuck my face.  When both these savage
animals are through with me, I get to go back to fucking fifty guys a day
in the most perverted ways imaginable.  That's if things go my way.  If
they don't, I get the skin flayed off my body with a bullwhip, by a sadist
who loves to hurt my breasts and cunny most of all.  But right now it's
hard to think about that because I have a foot of horse cock in my butt. 
Of the three places a horse had been in the last hours, now, with one in my
ass this is the most interested a horse has been in me today. 
Unfortunately, the more interested he is, the worse it is for me.

   Never having done this before, I was anxiously awaiting him to cum.  Not
exactly looking forward to it, as It was bound to be weird, at best, and
that's when I would start getting face fucked by someone I trusted less not
to hurt me, than the horse.  But all that was beyond my control and
definitely going to happen.  If the horse in my ass takes a little less
time to do his business, so much the better.  That was what I thought
before a horse had ever cum in my butt.  Words can't describe.  If I hadn't
been screaming in pain, I might have caught some of the nuances.  As it
was, anyone who has ever had gas pains has a tiny, tiny inkling of what it
felt like to have somewhere around a pint of horse cum shot up my bowels at
very high velocity and pressure.  His cock blocked any of it from getting
out and it was like taking a fire hose up my ass.  I guess the look of
"WHAT THE FUCK" mixed in equal parts with intense pain, was the look he was
waiting for, as my mouth fuck started.

   They held the horse cock in my ass, with my guts churning, all through
my mouth fuck.  Only when he had cum in my throat, did they let the horse
out of me.  He wiped his dick on my face and laughed at the noises of all
the horse cum being expelled from my butt.  I could see the cameraman
moving behind me.  Oh God they're filming me shitting horse cum.  How low
does it get?  God, could I be anymore thirteen?  They just filmed me with a
horses cock in my mouth and I'm embarrassed that they'll see me poop.  The
slime is still running down my legs when he pulls me up.  He drags me out
of the movie stall.  We stop at a stall a few doors down.  "I just got an
inspiration.  Do you remember when I was softening you up, with my whip,
your first day?  You told me you'd do anything for the whip to stop.  You
said it again when you got your first 75.  I can still picture you hanging
there.  You were so very beautiful covered in welts, blood dripping down
your tits and cunt.  I really don't know why I've waited this long to see
you like that again.  It's you destiny, you know!  I bet you'll Promise me
'anything' again when you earn your first two hundred.  I can't wait. 
We'll deal with that promise when you make it.  But you already promised to
do "Anything" for the whip to stop.  You aren't currently being whipped,
though you already know I'm happy to change that whenever you want.  So
that would mean that your whipping stopped and you owe me an 'anything'.

   You know, there's even weird shit that I haven't seen, yet.  So who
better to check it out with than my favorite "I'll do anything but the
whip" girl.  You made yourself three new boyfriends tonight, taking all
their cum.  I think it's time for a little parity.  There's a mare in this
stall.  I want to see you eat her out.  I want lips pressed to horse cunt,
I don't fuckin' know if horses have clits, or not, but I know in a few
minutes you're going to use your tongue to find out for me."

   "Oh God, please.  My guts are still churning and there's still horse cum
leaking from my gaping ass.  I'm just fucking miserable.  Please don't make
me do this." I didn't see his hand come out.  I don't think he punched me.
I think he backhanded me.  Whatever he did, I was suddenly sitting in a
pile of horse shit with a bloody nose.  "Just for that little insolence
we're going to save the experience for posterity.  Not only are you eating
horse cunt, tonight, but you're eating it for the camera without a mask. 
This is going to be my personal little movie.  I only wish for once you
weren't thirteen, or I could make a fortune selling it on the Internet."

   He dragged me through the straw by my leash to the photo room.  He
talked to the cameraman and grabbed a light stand and dragged me back to
the stall.  He opened the door and threw a box behind the horse's legs for
me to climb on.  The light was set up and the camera started rolling. 
Without a mask or even a clean face, I stood behind "Get up on the box and
yank her tail up and get your face into her cunt, cunt.  Get your tongue in
deep, then smile for the camera and get your face back in there, or so help
me god, I'll take off my belt and give you two hundred right here and now.
Or maybe I'll have her kick you in your cunt for snubbing hers.  Now eat me
some horse cunt just because I want you to, or I'll take my whip and savor
every minute of tearing that sexy body apart with my bullwhip.  When I'm
done with you, you'll make Betsy seem talkative and given a choice of
fucking you or her they'll choose fucking her, because she still looks like
a girl.  I already took one of your prettiest parts and made your nipple
ugly, next time it's the whole tit.  Now eat me some horse cunt with a
passion that was as though your whole future depended on how far you get
your tongue in her cunt.  You never know."

   With no disrespect to my own gender, this was horse cock times ten.  He
wouldn't stop telling me to lick here and suck there, shove my tongue ever
deeper.  Her vaginal lips were black and there was an acrid smell from the
pink insides.  After a far too long of disgusting licking, he came up
behind me and began rubbing his dick in the crack of my ass.  In one motion
he pushed his cock deep in my butt while his hand pressed my face so that
everything from my chin to the bottom of my eye sockets were pressed
between her lips.  He proceeded to fuck my butt while shoving my face
deeper into her vagina.  I fight for air.  However my body is found when
this is all over, I refuse to smother in a horse's vagina.  The camera came
in close to get my face trapped in her lips, then pulled back to get the
whole scene of me eating a mare while I get ass fucked.  I could feel him
building to a cum.  At the crucial moment, he grabbed my hair at the crown
of my head and yanked, so my face pointed up.  As he pushed up in me, he
also pushed my head with his handful of hair, pushing my face straight into
her asshole.  Do I need to tell you her asshole is bigger than my face?  As
he came, he kept grinding my face into the mare's asshole.  It made her
vagina a picnic.  Having cum, he let go of me and I fell to the floor of
the stall retching my guts out.  Without anything resembling competition, I
have just spent the most disgusting half hour of the most disgusting day of
my life

   My face covered in mare juices and horseshit along with all sorts of cum
dripping from everywhere, they threw me in the van and told me to stay on
the floor.  They drove me back to my whore room and told me I had two hours
before my shift started.  Fuck, well, at least they're human.  I went into
the shower and took the hottest shower I ever have in my life.

   Time passed, but not really for me.  I was getting closer to thinking
Betsy had found the only way to deal with this life.  The only thing that
kept me the least bit present was fear of pissing anyone off and being
beaten.  If I really had to endure two hundred strokes, Betsy and I would
be sisters of silence.  They usually gave me all the kinky trade, all the
disgusting stuff.  All the stuff I really didn't want to be present for.  I
don't know if it was because I put up with it to avoid the whip or if they
just liked knowing the girl who was a virgin just weeks ago is now doing
stuff only found in abnormal psych books.  But in spite of being the kink
whore, I had plenty of vanilla guys too, I don't doubt any of them wouldn't
like to do all the disgusting stuff, but only some could afford it.

   Endless john after endless john went by, distinguished only by their
particular kink.  How long has it been?  Months: probably seven or eight.
Men?  It's been twice as long, it's gotta be close to six thousand by now.
Horses: three, four if you count the mare.  I count the mare.
Whip strokes: countless from my johns, 117 bullwhip strokes from my

captor.  I remember 116 of them vividly.

   Since I work seven days a week, there isn't a lot of difference, so I
have little idea of what day of the week it was.  It was my second shift of
the day, around five guys into it.  I had a real nut case first shift who
sent a buggy whip into my cunny a few too many times.  I'll lose some sleep
tonight over that and, of course, it makes the rest of the day tougher. 
Fortunately, everyone had been vanilla since then, or it could have been a
lot worse.  A john comes in.  I barely look at them now.  I sure as hell
don't count them.  That would be too awful.  My John is acting weird.  He
doesn't look at me and keeps his body turned away.  He is still turned away
as he approaches the bed.  I can't see his face.  He climbs on top of me.
He's completely limp.  Oh shit, some crack head, or worse, who needs me to
suck him hard and takes forever to cum.  He turns his face to me.  "Jim" I
cried out loudly.  It is my oldest brother.  Quickly, he speaks just as
loudly, "I'm flattered you remember my name.  It is because of how big my
cock is?" He quickly whispered in my ear that there was a camera in the
corner and that I had to act like he was a john and say, "Yes".  "Yes!" I
said loudly.  He had to act like he was fucking me.  If my life was
anything other than what it had been for the last few months, this would be
over the top weird.  Now it is just weird.  Thank god he wasn't hard, I
don't think I could have dealt with my brother's hard dick down there. 
Then there would be dealing with how seeing me like this, made him hard. 
But thankfully, it was the limpest dick to ever be between my legs.

   He went on to tell me to sit tight and he would be back with help as
soon as he could arrange it.  He said that what ever I did, I couldn't let
on that anything was different, or they might move me, or worse.  He moved
on top of me for a while, in a simulated fuck, then gave a big grunt and
laid on me long enough to give himself an excuse to be soft when he stood
up.  Before he left, he told me that he, Bill and my father had never
stopped looking for me since Bill the Samaritan had turned me in.  That the
family now lived in California so they could look for me.  He said they
were always sure I was alive.  Someone who had been showed my picture
thought they saw me here and he followed it up.  He told me not to blow it,
and hang in there, and I'd be home as soon as he could arrange it.  He put
on his clothes, kissed me, and left.  A minute later my next john come in
and tore big chunks of my hair out stuffing his penis in my mouth.  I have
to remember to charge him extra for that.

   Ironically, my brother's visit made my life worse, much worse.  Because
of my brother, the next john hurt me in ways he couldn't have before.  I'm
not talking about having my hair ripped out.  But for the first time since
the horses, I felt really, really dirty and sick inside.  Before Jim showed
up, I was 'Wendy the cock whore' which was so much better than being 'Wendy
the whip whore' that I couldn't hope for anything better.  I had been told
for months that I would be a whore for the rest of my short life and didn't
see anything that made me think any differently.  But now I was Wendy the
Jr High School girl, for the first time in an eternity.  Every john's cock
disgusted me.  Every degrading act I was made to do hurt me to my soul.  I
felt a connection to me, the life I once knew, but I was still living the
life of a whore, a really disgusting whore.  Worse, I didn't feel like
Wendy the whore, but Wendy the thirteen year old farm girl had to fuck
johns like Wendy the whore.  If my captor suspected anything at all, he
could move me, kill me, or worst of all, give me two hundred strokes.

   Waiting was the worst, time-crawling period of my life.  I was keeping
track of every day.  Worse.  For the first time, I was counting johns.  How
many guys will I have to fuck until they rescue me?  It was two days, a
little more than 48 hours.  Six shifts, fifteen whip strokes, tied down
eight times, pissed on once, and ass fucked twelve times for a total of
ninety-six johns.  I had expected the police to rescue me, so I was as
surprised as anyone when I heard a commotion in the biker bar in front of
the whorehouse.  Gunshots.  Big gun shots.  Bless Bill.  He was suddenly in
my room with a trench coat.  Not just one, but an armload.  He had one for
Betsy and I found out there were three other underage girls there too, I
never was told about.  I think they got there after me.  I was the youngest
by two years.

   Bill tried to keep me from the bar, but I wouldn't be stopped.  I walked
out to see five dead bikers.  My family had used shotguns and it was pretty
messy.  "Where are the police?" I asked "We called them once we had you. 
We weren't taking any chance of anyone messing up your rescue." Answered
Bill.  Jim and my father were holding sotguns on another half dozen bikers
and that's when I saw him, the leader.  He was sitting on the floor, with
his hands out.  I ran up to my father and gave him a big hug.  "I'm so, so
sorry Daddy.  Please forgive me.  Thank you for saving me." With that,
having him smiling at me and relaxed, I ripped the shotgun out of his
hands, tore the trench coat open and let it hang from my gun arm.  Naked
and scarred, I swung around on my tormentor.  I aimed the gun at the
motherfucker who had made my life absolute hell for most of the last year.
"Well fancy that.  For the very first time since I met you, you're looking
at my face, when I'm talking, instead of my tits.  It's really funny,
because this is the one time I want you to look at my tits.  Look at my
tits, Mister, because I want you to remember them as the last thing you saw
while you could still be called 'Mister'."

   Farm girls know about shotguns.  I was too eager and let the kick put a
pretty good bruise on the top of my tit, but I knew my recoil and aimed
low. I wanted his cock and balls, not his guts.  I'd have to take my
chances with the arteries in his legs.  But the cops are on their way and
it's not like I'm going to be broken hearted if he dies.  I have a secret
wish to see him after he can't grow a beard anymore.  I wrap the coat
around me again.  I hope I haven't scandalized my preacher father too
terribly.  There's no way I can look him in the eye until I put the coat
back on.  I hand him back the shotgun.  My eyes welled up with tears. 
"Daddy!  I'm so sorry Daddy!  I promise I'll never take off my clothes in
public again as long as I live, but I just had to do that, forgive me."

   "Damn straight you did, baby!  That's my girl."

   It not only was the first time I ever heard him say 'damn straight', but
it was also the first time I ever heard him call me 'his girl'.

   The cops got there just after that.  At first they were going to take
everyone to jail; the bikers, my brothers, my father.  It didn't help
anything that my tormentor was lying bleeding on the floor, screaming that
I had castrated him on purpose.  Well, maybe I did, but I had my reasons.
When the man in charge said he was taking everyone in, I took him into the
hallway and opened my coat to show him my disfigured nipple and all the
traces of he whip.  I told him how the man bleeding on the floor had done
that to me with a bullwhip.  I told him I was thirteen, and forced into
prostitution by the bikers.  My father and brothers came to save me and
were attacked by the bikers and defended themselves.  I told him the man
who did this to me was trying to attack me, I assume to silence me, when I
grabbed a shotgun and defended myself.  He seemed to be siding with me, by
now.  That's when I introduced him to Betsy.  He came out of her room and
told the cops to take all the bikers to jail, take statements and call
ambulances for the girls, find their families and leave my family alone.

   They wanted me to go to the hospital, but I couldn't bear to be away
from my family.  I let the EMT's look at me and they agreed that the
evidence on my body wasn't going to go away for years and they could
photograph me later.  I went to my new home with all of my family.  Mom
burst into tears when I came through the door.  So did I.  I honestly
thought I was going to die servicing cocks.

   I never did have to go to court.  I had a private meeting with a woman
in the DA's office, the kind of meeting you could never have with a man. 
Bill took me, but she insisted in talking to me alone.  She told me they
had found the horse films.  That this caused everyone to plead guilty to
racketeering, kidnapping, white slavery, child pornography, there was a
long list.  Nobody wanted to have a jury see any part of the films. 
Richard, as I learned his name was, had been really stupid to fuck me on
film with neither of our faces covered, save for a horses butt.  It was
inescapable evidence of several serious crimes.  They even had him up on
animal cruelty, which a part of me took as an insult.  He had filmed that,
just to rub my face in it, so to speak.  Who's the 'dumb cunt' now?  She
went on to tell me they had found Johnny's film too.  He had been found and
they found stuff to tie Becky back to him.  He was going away forever. 
Forever and a day.  I can't resist thinking, that as a pretty-boy child
molester, he is going to have a life in prison not unlike the one he had
planned for me.

   When she told me she had found Johnny's video she looked the most
embarrassed for me, yet.  For all the bizarre hell I had been through, only
a woman could understand that after everything, this was my most exposed
moment.  That the johns, the whips the pain, all of it was external.  All
of it just happened to me completely out of my control.  But I had given
myself to Johnny.  She had seen me give myself freely for the first time in
my life to a man who's betrayal was worthy of record books.  She knew, as a
man never could, that this was the pain that would never go away, and she
was embarrassed for having seen it.

   She handed me a little package and told me it was the disks.  She said
she didn't trust them to be anywhere but with me, and that she would burn
them without watching if it were her.  She told me that only three people
had seen them.  The main detective, who found them, only watched enough to
see what they were.  She was chosen to see them in the DA's office because
she was a woman and then the woman judge who sentenced the bikers saw them,
and that's whey they all got maximum sentences.  She said she wished she
had never seen them, especially when they found a film of my seventy-five
strokes.  That was the one that made Richard agree to plead guilty to
everything.  He knew if anyone saw how much fun he had ripping the skin
from my cunny that it could only be worse.  She said they also found a disk
of Betsy's 400 strokes and it was easy to see why she went insane from it.
Thank god I never did my own two hundred.  I was told that Betsy moves
between home and an institution and while far from normal, she can talk
again.  Though I hear she doesn't have a lot to say.

   "Are you seeing a therapist?" she asked.  "Why?  So she can wish she
didn't know what happened to me, too?  I don't blame you, I wish I didn't
know what happened to me, either.  What do you do?  No one has dealt with
recovering from stuff like this since WWII.  I try to find a good side. 
Like the idea that the worst thing that will ever happen in my whole life
has already happened and number two isn't going to be able to compete.  You
get plastic surgery.  You try to move on.  They stole a year of my life.  I
don't want to give them any more of it.  People look at me like I'm a freak
and say, 'well at least you're young'.  No I'm not.  Not anymore.  What the
fuck is that supposed to mean, anyway?  So that I have so many more years
to remember it?  We all agree I'm into new territory here.  I think I'll
try to muddle through on my own.  I'm thinking about just writing it all
down to get it out.  I don't know what I'll do with it then, probably burn
it with the disks."

   I got up to go and she spoke, then hesitated.  "I thought you might like
to know.  No one is even vaguely thinking of charging you.  But we aren't
stupid either.  We had a vote in the DA's office and it's officially a
'gender thing'.  All six male DA's would have killed him with the shotgun.
The other woman and I were with you in blowing his dick off."

   Daddy bought me surgery for my nipple and cunny.  There's still a little
scarring, but since I grew hair back, you can't see anything.  My lip is
really fixed now.  I've had surgery to tighten up my rectum.  I had been
leaking a little The same kind of laser treatments that remove tattoos, got
rid of 99% of the fine whip lines.  It even got rid of a faint one on my
cheek.  If I look in a mirror, I can see faint lines on my butt, but I'm
sure it's because I know they are there.  Daddy has been absolutely
wonderful, really.  He hasn't said a word and I am going to public school
here in California.  I even found Bill the Samaritan's address and sent him
a letter thanking him for saving my life.

   You would think I would have had enough of men and sex for my whole
life. But this really cute boy, in my class, took me to the movies.  We
went without chaperones and Daddy drove us.  He fumbled hopelessly with my
breasts for half the show.  I had to open my bra myself.  Do you have any
idea how wonderful it is, after all this time, to have a guy with no idea
what to do with my breasts?  I'll put him through some amount of shit for
as long as is socially appropriate before he gets in my pants.  When he
asks me the inevitable question, I will tell him he is my second, and I
will be telling the truth.