Prologue

 

 

Promiscuous... She was promiscuous; and before she was, she wanted the thrill of promiscuity. The girl had read somewhere that tragedy sometimes leads to bizarre behavior, and she supposed the untimely death of parents was just such a life-changing event. She had been intimate with silly boys on back seats of cars; sex with the handsome naughty man she called uncle was as close to fantastic as any drug high she ever experienced. Was it not incredible to be ordered about like common trailer trash, instead of catered to like a princess?

Her uncle and she had circled each other for months. They touched each other at rare moments and kissed in secluded corners. And before getting right down to clandestine fucking, they snorted dope and made love on her gaily quilted canopy covered bed when her aunt shopped.

For the last several weeks, they had gotten high and stolen away in a cheap motel room. One of those afternoons delight places in the poor part of the city where one paid in cash and expected not much more than clean linens and privacy. A place she had longed to visit; a place reserved for dirty girls and crack whores. And when she resisted the needle, he pointed at the door and offered an option. "Leave, then."

The girl coward, but didn't go and her eyes didn't waver. He loved her, didn't he? Submission was what he wanted and what a promiscuous girl craved; gang fucked and strung out with needle marks between her toes?

"Okay..." Her mouth parted.

"Mighty fine," greeted her answer. He clasped her shoulders and turned her to toward the bed. He pulled her green angora sweater off and tossed it on the only chair in the room. In the same brisk manner, he unsnapped her bra band and let the divisions hang. He pushed the shoulder straps from her arms and let the disassembled brassiere assembly fall to the floor. He spun her around and brushed a loose stand of silky blond hair from her forehead and claimed her mouth. His kiss, so deep and long and consuming that neither she nor he drafted oxygen until it ended. Nor had she buried her face in the crook of his neck. "You're my dirty little whore, aren't you, Sugar tits?"

The girl hated the name, groaned and yet reveled in its decadence.

His hands found her hips and pulled her to the bed. He lowered his mouth to her breasts and nipped her nipples, first one and then the other. His fingers roamed unimpeded and unsnapped her jeans. His hand worked into the spread wide opening of her zipper and then plunged beyond the waistband of her white cotton panties. He had barely cupped her pussy before her thighs eased apart and her pelted aperture became sodden to his touch. With a groan of satisfaction, he slid his middle finger up inside of her and pumped preparation in her channel. "Shall I have your name burned into your flesh?"

Branded, oh my, branded she thought. She moaned and her desperation grew more vibrant with each intimate caress and with every breath-extinguishing brush of his thumb. Would he love her afterward? Would she love him? "Must I?"

"Sluts have brands."

"And the boys..."

"They're good boys." Her uncle stood and yanked off her tennis shoes. He pulled down her jeans and swept away her panties. With a flurry of movement, he pitched his clothes on the floor. And without considering her comfort was on top of her, then deep inside her, and then his cock was fucking her as hard as he knew how to fuck, and she drowned with fucking.

She moved with him, closed her arms around his shoulders, and slammed up against him as he slammed down against her. A knock sounded on the door. "Will they hurt me?" she asked.

"The boys will make you cum."

 

Chapter One

 

Summer in the mountains

 

Mr. Roy Chambers, the most important man in May Belle Livingston's hope for stardom, swiped the key card to his top floor condominium penthouse and stepped inside the door. "You ready, sweetheart?" he asked with a shout. Roy wasn't the handsomest man ever to grace a trim tuxedo, but in West Virginia, he was one of the wealthiest.

"Out in a few minutes, sweetie," the melodious voice of last year's Miss White Water Beach called back. "I'm putting on makeup."

"Don't forget nipple rouge."

"Cherry douche too?" asked May Belle. "You sure he's kinky?" May Belle had turned nineteen two weeks earlier. She had lost her virginity so long ago, she forgot with whom and now made sure she was available to Roy Chambers whenever he wished. Without Roy's interest in her talent, she'd be selling her body over on Madison Street along with the twenty-dollar crack whores and girly boys. Instead, she sold it at the Cat's Eye, one of Roy's adult dating places, for much, much, more. With a successful screen test, by this time next year she'd be an in demand movie star.

Doug, Dirty Dog, Bensigong, besides being the owner of West Coast Pictures, kept a home up on Walton's mountain with a sound stage for out of the way fun and owed Roy favors for underwriting several of his adult movie flops and investment busts. In consequence, he had promised to screen test Roy's latest live-in piece of pussy girlfriend. "Dirty Dog's middle name is kink," Roy said with a bark, before crossing to the cabinet bar by the grand piano and pouring a hefty drink; single malt scotch, no ice. Then, just to make sure she hadn't snuffed cocaine early, he padded to the master bedroom; his master bedroom, where occasional hopefuls had short term squatting privileges, and long-term hopefuls never got invited. Roy took up light in the doorway. "You'll do whatever he wants, right, May Belle?"

"Him and the horse he rides," said the hopeful. May Belle dipped her middle finger into a fragrance jar and spread a bouquet of cherry pie delight liberally onto the naked crease of her invitation center.

"And May Belle-"

"Yes, Mr. Chambers."

"No drugs. Doug requires compliance, not dopers."

May Belle stood and whirled as the hem of her black party dress danced high on her thighs and her black party pumps shined intrigue to anyone who noticed. "How's my dress, Mr. C.?" She curtsied.

Roy supposed the best feature of May Belle's dressing ensemble supported tits. Roy loved tits, big tits, little tits, pointed tits, hanging tits. He loved tits. "I've had it," he said. "Doug hasn't; make sure he's the one who likes what you offer."

"Yes, of course, sweetie-pie..."

Moments later, Roy clasped her elbow, moved her from his elegant in the city residence, into his private elevator and then his car, a two-month-old red Lamborghini. "And May Belle," he said as she slid into the black leather bucket passenger seat. "This doesn't work out... Your ass is mine until we're finished with the dean of students, Reynolds, or you're too old to fuck."

"Yes, sir-"

By then, May Belle had been bedding John Reynolds for a month and soon, she expected to bed his wife. Roy had promised her a new apartment when she took up with little wife Joan, so her association with the Reynolds' had importance. She nodded and added cherry lip gloss.

Then an hour later, on a rented sound stage in an abandoned movie theater, Roy sat next to Dirty Dog well out of reach of the hot overhead light bars, as cameramen wrote video tracks to disks and May Belle Livingston pulled a flesh train; not just any old plain vanilla flesh train either. White, black and brown cocks moved this train, always kept hard by an extraordinary older dick-fluffier named Gina; and an occasional gorgeous young serving girl for backup. "Who's the girl?" Roy asked. "She should be your star."

"Name's Paula; don't know her last name; but just like May Belle, she's a great fuck, though she can't act a lick. Her eyes can't stop finding the camera lens."

"Someone's mistress...?"

"Not anyone from here. I'm told she's been with lots of guys. Sells her ass; over sexed, you might say. Right now, the word is she's fucking her physiology professor."

"College girl...?"

"Education, over at the teacher college..."

"Shame," said Roy. "She could make a fortune in the movies."

"Two kids in foster care, and broke, I've heard... You interested?"

Roy said, "Don't think so," but keeping his eyes interested, he was so intrigued by the girl; his dick was hard and his testicles were banging against each other like billiard balls seeking a bumper. Pussy is a dime for a dozen in today's society, he thought. Still, this little piece of pussy had caught his interest and twitched his memory. Not that he wanted Dirty Dog aware of his interest.

"Camera man found her; we pay her six dollars an hour and she charges extra for the other."

"Which one...?"

"Steve Griffin, over on camera one..." The movie producer, three hundred and sixty pounds of him, swaddled in Gorilla black, pointed. "Best sound and picture specialist in the state; I tried to shunt him to L.A. but he likes the hills." Dirty Dog snatched up his megaphone and yelled, "Action!" He ignored the action and cast his eyes on Chambers. "Want her to suck your dick. She sucked mine for fifty. She can use the money."

"Griffin?"

"Most likely-"

"The professor...?"

"A cheapskate..."

"May Belle will take care of me later."

"May Belle will be comatose later."

"Steve does moonlighting?"

"I'll give you his card."

"Why, thank you, Dog."

Roy no longer considered cameramen. Instead, he watched May Belle take a long thin cock in her asshole, a cock in her pussy and a cock in her mouth from actors in front of the cameras. Then he switched attention to the serving girl. Paula, without a last name, had her succulent red lips wrapped around a makeup man's appendage as he stretched her mouth to the limit and powered his cock toward her unplugged esophagus.