"Why don't you wise up?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well shit, kid, turn a trick now and then. You don't gotta go into it full time… but, hell, you gotta eat."
"I like sex too much," Marcy said.
"Sheeitt," Daisy said, laughing so loud that everyone in the place turned to look at them. "You ain't never gonna have no good sex on an empty stomach… take it from a momma that knows. Besides, honey, when was the last time you had any that you enjoyed?"
Marcy thought. And when she realized what the answer was, she started to cry.
"Hey… take it easy. Look, here's the key to my pad. Go up there and get yourself cleaned up. And take one of my dresses… if you can squeeze those tits of yours into it. But that's it, you hear? I ain't no Salvation Army."
What Daisy had said suddenly made acme. Marcy went up to the apartment and did everything the woman had suggested. An hour later she was back on the street.
He was young, very good-looking, and appeared to be a businessman type. She met him in a bar that Daisy said was a good pick-up place, and safe as long as the girl made sure she dropped at least a five on the bartender.
He acted shy, even embarrassed. "You… you don't have one of those guys hanging around, do you?"
"You mean a pimp?" Marcy asked.
"Yeah… I'm always afraid of getting mugged, you know?"
"No," Marcy said, suddenly liking him, and thinking that hooking with a trick like him wouldn't be half-bad.
"A… I a, always hate to ask," he stammered, "but I know we have to get it out of the way… a, how much?"
Marcy bit her lip. "It's usually a hundred, but… well, you give me what you think I'm worth… okay?"
"That's more than fair," he said. "I've got a hotel room. Let's go."
His name was Phil and he seemed sweet, warm and kind. Everything changed, however, when they got into the hotel room behind a locked door, with their clothes off.
"Lean over!" he said.
"What?"
"Lean over and touch your toes."
She did as he asked.
With his open hand he hit her with all his might across the buttocks. A red welt appeared on her flesh where he had made contact.
"Now lean over the back of the sofa," he said.
She complied as he soaked a bar towel at the tap. Quickly he wrung it out and crossed the room to her, flipping the towel into a hard roll as he moved. About three feet from her bare, upended body, he stopped. Her eyes followed him, and her mouth matched his in a strange suggestion of a smile.
He flicked the towel toward her. Just before it touched her skin, he yanked his wrist hard. The cloth responded with a loud crack, and a three-inch line of red jumped to life on one of her asscheeks.
"No!" she said through clenched teeth. "No!" she cried as he flicked the towel again and again.
"Scream, you bitch, scream!" He pounded her with a fury until the skin finally gave up and began opening.
Then she screamed, again and again.
"Jesus… stop it! You're crazy!"
"You're a whore, dammit! You get paid to give me what! And this is what I want… so shut up and enjoy it or I'll make it worse!" He kept at it until her whole body was a man of red and his own body dripped with sweat.
"Now roll over," he commanded.
She rolled over to the seat of the couch, lifting and spreading her legs as she did so. She screwed again when the ripped skin of her back and buttock touched the hard leather of the couch.
Grasping her ankles, one in each of his hands, he lifted her quivering body high into the air. With one tremendous effort he thrust his cock borne into her moist cunt.
Screams and incoherent babble came from her throat as every fiber of her body strove to bring him to the ultimate.
At last, with the blood pounding in his temples and a fire burning in his loins, he came. His body convulsed again and again in rhythm with hen until he let go of her ankles and dropped across her, panting.
She hadn't wanted it to, but his cock had aroused her. It was strange, but somehow the pain had also aroused her. She smiled at the ceiling, letting his relaxed body settle down on her own. She used his weight, combined with her own, to rub her raw back against the couch until the raw passion of pain again flooded through her body. Slowly she began moving again, lifting and grinding her hips into his until she felt him stir. The more she moved, the more her own salty perspiration found its way into her wounds to inflame her.
When she felt his prick throbbing back to life, she dug her fingernails deeply into his ass and raked as far as she could up his back. Instantly his body responded, and his hips began pounding in unison with hers as his cock found her cunt.
"We're good, ain't we," she sighed, her lips close to his ear. "We're really good. Do it to me… make me hurt good… fuck me hard! You're just like me. We're both just animals."
And in her mind: I hate… I hate… I hate it… I hate him… I hate me… fuck, fuck, fuck!
She pounded her ass up to him, nearly throwing him off of her as she came and felt him come.
Without a word he rose and wiped off his cock. He then dressed and left, without even looking back at Marcy, who still lay on the couch.
He had been gone nearly ten minutes when it hit her… the son-of-a-bitch never paid!
The second time she tried a different tack. She borrowed some money from Daisy and bought a skirt and sweater that made her look like a scrubbed teen-ager.
She then took a bus out to the university and started to walk. It didn't take long. A car pulled alongside her.
"Excuse me," the deep, mature voice called out. "I'm looking for a friend. Maybe you've seen her."
He was an older man, rather distinguished looking, with graying temples. His manner and appearance helped her to feel at ease. There was nothing about him to indicate that he was at all anxious.
"What does she look like? Maybe I've seen her." Marcy answered with a smile. He returned her smile and motioned for her to come closer.
"Maybe you're the one," he said. "Why don't you get in and we can discuss it."
They drove right to his home, which made Marcy feel better. When she mentioned the fifty dollars, he didn't even hesitate. He just flipped out his wallet and paid her.
"Would you like a drink first?" he asked.
"A, yeah… sure. Thanks."
He med two drinks and handed her one. "Let's sit here on the couch for a minute. I always like to watch a film first. Do you mind?"
"I guess not," Marcy said.
He pulled down a movie screen and rolled out a projector which was already threaded with film and ready to be turned on.
He flicked a switch and the worn was completely dark. "I love home movies. I make them myself because I can star in them."
Then she heard a switch turned on, and suddenly the screen lit up with his face. He was revealed entirely nude.
He began playing with his limp cock until it was somewhat erect, and then displayed it for the camera. Marcy felt movement beside her. He had removed his clothing and was rapidly masturbating.
"It's a nice cock, isn't it?" he said, grinning at her like a wild man. "Isn't it?"
She nodded.
"I really got a nice cock. You wanna touch it?"
"If you want me to," Marcy said tentatively.
"I don't cum," he said.
"Should I take my clothes off?" Marcy asked. "If you want to," he replied.
"I don't understand," she replied. "Do you want to fuck me with my clothes on?"
"Oh, I don't want to fuck you," he said. "I never do that. You're dirty. I wouldn't stick my beautiful cock inside you. No… no… no, I would never do that. I just masturbate and I want you to watch me. You'll like it. I'm beautiful. I come real good… you just watch. You're dirty."
And you're crazy, Marcy thought as she watched him go through wild pounding gyrations with his cock. Jesus, was there anybody in the world who wasn't a kook?