April - From Teen to Street Hooer

A work of fiction...

Chapter 1 - Hopes & Dreams.

I'm feeling quite nervous. Not for the first time in my life, I guess, but this is something more.....

More......important.

I'm in a strange city. A strange part of that city. Seedy. Very seedy.....

I've fought this day off for many, many months....yet at the same time thrilled to have my imagination - my fantasy - become real......

I find myself down a busy main road. It's evening time and this part of town is coming alive.....

To my left, up ahead, are two scantly clad women....talking.....laughing....

....and to my right, not 100 metres away are two other women.....dressed similar to the first pair. There's a short blonde and a slightly taller blonde. The short blonde is lighting up a cigarette, pointing with the cigarette between her fingers to punctuate her sentences.....

I'm going to meet Martika.....

Martika. Oh how my heart thrills to those very words. She's been on my mind since I first joined an Internet support group where people share their life stories and experiences. I believe it was put together for cancer survivors but, just like everything else put together on the Internet, it found it's way to being corrupted and used by the more 'fringe' elements of society; the perverts, the cuckolds, the transgendered, the bible bashers etc....

This is where I found out about Martika.

Let me back-track a little here; my name's April. I'm a mixed race teenage girl. 18. Never knew my real parents. Never knew why they put me up for adoption. Mum, apparently, was white and dad black. I was adopted by a devoutly religious family; adopted dad black, mum white. After me came their biological daughter, Serena, who was 2 years younger than me.

Life was nice. Wholesome. We always went to church, never missed a Sunday. Helped out at the local mission too; feeding the homeless.

I had even had sex. Just once, mind. With a boy from the church. Felt funny. Felt ashamed. Felt different to everyone else afterwards.....

.....like everyone could see right through me and just KNEW what I had done....

So I joined the site, looking for religious support and understanding but found so much more......

Martika had posted up some things. She had a catholic background but she also was a prostitute.

A woman of the night. A slut. A whore. A 'Good Time Girl', as my dad would call them. But Martika didn't care who knew. She was proud of the decadent life she lived.

Sex.....smoking.....drinking.....swearing. She was a bad girl...completely unlike anyone else I ever knew!!

She used to write, in graphic detail, how her working night was and proudly boast of how many men she had sex with.....

She was married too; and that her husband encouraged her life of vice.....

As she said in her posts, she did '...Walk It Like You Talk It....' and that, I think, along with how glamorous she made prostitution sound, made me excited by her stories......

This was all that I had thought about for the last 18 months......

I composed myself and walked meekly up to her....

"H-h-hi.....a-a-are you Martika?"

The woman stops talking, looks down on me and takes a drag of her cigarette.....

"Who the fuck are you?" She sneered....

"I-I-I'm April. I've c-come to s-see Martika...."

"Why?"

"I-I-I think you're wonderful!" I blurted out....

Martika looked confused. The taller blonde started to chuckle......

Oooops! This is not going well. Thinking on my feet I quickly responded with....

"I've read all your blog posts on 'The Experience Project' and I want to be like you...."

Martika looked bored...

"Bitch, I get this shit all the time. All the fuckin' wannabe's and crap. What makes you so fuckin' different? Why don't you just piss off!"

"N-No...." I began to answer "I-I want you to train me. I want to be like you..."

The taller blonde's eyes rolled as she heard me. She looked behind her, saw a car, took one last drag from her cigarette before throwing the butt to the curb.

"Martika, babes, just got Phil pulled up for me. See ya later, girl. Fill me in later what happens to this fucker, ok?"

Martika nods....

"So you wanna be like me, do ya?"

"Yes, Martika. You're my idol" I gushed...

"....and you want ME to train you?"

"Absolutely!"

"Do you drink?"

"No...."

"Smoke?"

"Erhhhhhh....no..."

"Tried drugs?"

I blush......"Sorry, no...."

"Had sex?"

"Yes!" I proudly answered...

"Hu-fuckin'-ray!", she sighed. "How many times?"

"Errrhhh, just the once." I answer; shuffling my feet and averting my gaze. I'm sure this wasn't the answer that she was looking for.....but probably expected.

She let out the briefest of laughs before stating the obvious....

"Pretty shite hooker you're gonna be then, aren't you? Still, I can make something of you...."

She paused. "Ok bitch. Prove yourself; I want you to get a tattoo on your right arse cheek saying "Martika's Bitch" at the top, a swallow underneath that and then "Number 1 - April" underneath that...".

I think my mouth dropped and I looked nervous. I hadn't expected this!

Martika sensed this and slapped me hard around the face.

"Bitch, don't waste my fuckin' time; you want to be just like me - for me to train you - then you have to do what I say! What I say goes, you fucker! So get that bloody done and come out here, same time tomorrow. You prove to me you're worth my fuckin' time. If not then you can fuck right off!"

"Anyways, piss off I'm trying to sell fuckin' pussy!"

And, with that, I scurried away....getting the bus back home.

I thought about what had happened and what I had kinda agreed to on the 40 minute ride. It sounded thrilling but, heck, how am I going to tell my parents?

I had some money in the bank. Not super lots. Not sure how much a tattoo actually costs or where, to be honest, was a tattoo.....what you call it? Parlour? Yes, parlour; where my local tattoo parlour was!

It kept me awake most of the night. I slept in spits and spots, feeling quite exhausted when morning came....

I got up, wearily, for breakfast and made small talk to my mother before she left for work.

I got myself showered and changed into something nice and pretty - White Capri leggings, light pink top, white Nike trainers - and headed into town to withdraw the money from my account and to hunt down a tattoo place....

I found a place. I meekly asked the heavily tattooed guy what I wanted. I was impressed by his professionalism; he didn't even bat an eyelid. Naturally he checked if I was 'of an age' to get a tattoo and he checked my ID card. All good.

Quite embarrassed I pulled down my leggings....then my panties.....to reveal the proposed 'site'; I really wished it was elsewhere....but this was what Martika had asked for and I have to follow her wishes.....

What wasn't good was how much it hurt me! It hurt like the dickens! And it seemed to take ages!

....with a final wipe he wiped away the gunk and showed me the design, by way of a mirror. It DID look nice.....

It was hard to sit down for the rest of the day but, come nightfall, I got on the bus back over to meet Martika again.

Sure enough, she was on the streets....from the looks of it just finished with her client.

She notices me coming over.

"So bitch, you got it done? The tattoo, like we said?"

"Yes." I answered.

"Good, well, let's see the fucker then!"

"I-I- I can't. There's people about!"

"You shouldn't care who fuckin' sees that ass of yours, shithead. Punters'll be seeing that cunt and tits too so no fuckin' need to be so prim and proper! Bitch, you either want to be a fuckin' hooker or not!! Get those fuckin' leggin's down now or you can fuck right off!"

Martika was angry. I'd read about her and her anger issues; doesn't think twice about hitting someone.....as I had found out myself yesterday!

I turned around and pulled down my leggings, showing my right bottom cheek. I felt hands pulling my panties to onside....

A snap of a lighter.......

"'Ere, Emma. Check this shit out!"

The taller blonde from yesterday strolled over to see my bottom. I felt so ashamed....

"Good, bitch, good. Looks real nice. Guess you were on the level with me."

"I was.....I am!"

"Well, if you still want to be my fuckin' hooker protégé then let's do this! You still want this life?"

"Y-yeah, more than anything...." I said excitedly.

"Good.....good. Well, first lesson....."

I felt a slap around my face, knocking me sideways....

Martika stood over me....

"You do what I fuckin' well tell you to do, OK? No fuckin' thinking about it..." she pointed her finger at me "..what I says, goes! Understand? You don't and I'll kick your fuckin' head in! Got it?"

"Yeah, yeah.....sorry Martika" I state, scrambling to my feet "I didn't want to diss you..."

"Well...." she says, scrawling on a piece of paper "....here's my address....", she hands it to me "I want you over at my house tomorrow. You're moving in with me....where I can keep a sharp eye on you......bitch, tell your folks you're going away. Don't want no fucker's worrying about you....."

So I thank Martika for the opportunity and head off home, very scared but very excited. What shall I tell my folks?

By morning time, when I awoke, I had a plan. I worked part-time at this major department store, selling women's clothing and accessories. Well.....I could tell them that I had been offered a full-time job in another city.....nowhere nearby, naturally.....and I had accepted that....

Hmmmmm......not sure if they were going to believe me or not......

.....but I found that they did!!

When asked by my father why so late telling them - as I had to start tomorrow - I told him that it had been unconfirmed and that I didn't want to raise my hopes up......

The lies grew and grew....

They waved me off with my suitcase at the train station and told them that I would call later that night.....

I felt bad....and stupid....getting on the train to head down to London, getting off at the first stop out of Nottingham then travelling on the coach, because I had spent all my money, to get to Derby. That suitcase was rammed with stuff.....very heavy!!!

I walked and walked, suitcase wheeled behind me, crumpled up piece of paper with Martika's address in my hand. I soon found her address. It was about midday. I nervously knocked on her front door....and stepped back....

A woman's hand appeared to pull the door open. It was Martika, dressed brazenly....similar to the night before....cigarette, between her fingers, pint glass in one hand....and beautiful little children....

Ah......that's Miya, the eldest, and the mixed race one must be Jasmin.

They're laughing and giggling; like you do when siblings share a joke.

"Who are you?" asked the oldest one....

"I'm April, I'm a friend of your mum's..."

"Goodie! Are you going to stay?"

"Miya babe, she will be staying for quite some time to come..." replied Martika

Martika offered me in and, pulling up that suitcase in her step, eventually I did....

"What's the fuck is this shit? Your clothes? Won't be needing these fuckers, cunt. You want to be a hooker then you'll fuckin' DRESS like one too, shitbag! You hearing me? This crap is going straight to the charity shop.....along with that crap you're wearing!", Martika exhumed.....out of the way, and earshot, of her playing children.

"You want a coffee or a tea?" She asks.

"Coffee, please."

Martika spins in her 4 1/2" ankle booted heels and I turn to watch her leather trouser form heading towards the kitchen.

I sit in the lounge and wait.....

"Here's your coffee, Bitch, and here's your contract. Mark knocked this up the other night. Once you sign it I'll be able to make you like me..."

I sipped my coffee with one hand whilst reading the document with the other.....

There's a lot of legal jargon but, from what I can gather, it all amounts to Martika 'owning' me and that I will follow her every command and advice. That I will be expected to have sex with whomever she chooses, regardless of age or gender.....

I am also expected to wear what clothing and jewellery she recommends too. Oh, and I am expected to take drugs, smoke and drink alcohol to the amount which she chooses.....

To go along with the sex point, Martika has forbid me to have any relationships outside of what has been discussed. She also has final sway over contraception, as and when used......

*Gulp*

For all that I am allowed an 'allowance' of just £100 a week; Martika has control of all my money, in return I get to live with her and her family, rent free, and have my meals.

Wow! That's pretty heavy going. My head was in a spin and I came over a little faint....

"What's the matter, bitch? Too chicken to be a real prossie?"

I take a gulp of coffee before I answer.

"N-No.....just wasn't expecting....'this'", I say, pointing at the contract.

"Well, there you go. I've gotta protect my assets, don't I? I'm going to invest heavily into you and I don't want no shit."

"So.....you, ah, gonna sign?"

She leans forward and hands me over a pen....

I pause, momentarily, before signing the paper I have and a copy that she gives me. She informs me that one is going to be her copy and the other my own.

"Congrats, Bitch! Well, your training starts here...." she says, smiling, whilst throwing me an unopened packet of 'Silk Cut' cigarettes and a rather cheap looking red plastic lighter. "Hookers should smoke and my bitch - that's you - smokes so I'm gonna show you how to smoke, ok?"

I turn the packet over in my hands and nod.

"Good, well, once you know how to fuckin' do it then you're gonna match me, cigarette for cigarette. When I light up, you light up, slut."

"Ok" I answer back.

"So what am I to you, bitch?" She asks.

"I dunno", I think about saying but don't; just shrug my shoulders.

"Bitch.....get with the fuckin' programme! I own you! You do what I fuckin' say! You're just a wannabe Ho bag, designed to fuck..."

"So......again?" asks Martika, angrily....

"Y-you're my owner..."

"Good, bitch..." she smile "....and....what are you?"

"A wannabe Ho bitch?" I half question, half answer.

"Right first time. So, bitch, let's smoke..."

For the next 15-20 minutes, Martika proceeded to show me how to smoke. It wasn't easy; hacking and coughing on my first attempts, tears staining my eyes, smoke stinging them....

The acrid smoke bit deep into my lungs. I felt woozy, initially, probably from the hit of nicotine in my body but felt better as time when along.

Martika then got me to smoke in front of a mirror....

"Gotta look sexy, bitch, when you smoke. Make sure you inhale deeply.....and blow the smoke out like this....."

She demonstrates the perfect cone exhale....

I practice in the mirror until I got it down pat.

"Shit, girl! You ain't even got your bloody ears pierced!"

"I know, Martika..." I exclaim under a stream of smoke.

"Well, we gotta fuckin' do something about that shit, then! Gotta have 'em triple pierced, at least!!"

Martika pauses.....then phones her mum "Hi mum. Can you do us a favour? Can you babysit the kids for a short while. Just gotta go out. What? Yeah, got the bitch here. Well, she'll be alright, 'specially after I get her all slagged up...which is why I called. The fucker ain't ever got her ears pierced! Ok....see you in about 10 minutes..."

"Love you..."

.....and Martika puts the phone down.

"Bitch, we're heading into town to get those ears pierced. Fuck, girl, they're gonna be triple pierced and you're gonna start looking like a right ol' scrubber by the time I'm finished with you..." Martika smiles......

"Girls, Sammy's coming over!" Martika shouts to the living room, where her children are playing. Miya and Jasmin scream with definite roars of approval.

Martika lights up again and I follow suite.

I'm getting the hang of this smoking now. Feel like such a bad girl....and the smoke tastes nicer in my mouth. I sit there wondering.....this is all going quite quickly. First the contract, then learning how to smoke....and I'm going to have my ears pierced shortly. I wonder if it hurts? Some of the girls at my old school did have theirs's done more than once and they said as it went further up the earlobe then the more it hurt....

"Let's do a bit of eyeliner and mascara; make you look more like a slag..." Martika states before running upstairs to get her makeup box. Quick as a flash she's up and down with it. Very impressed, especially in THOSE heels....

With cigarette dangling from her lips she gives me instructions on where to look and position my face as she attacks it with pencil and wand....after about 5 minutes she's done.....steps back, takes the cigarette from her mouth....and smiles....

"Nice..."

I look in the mirror. With those eyes and still smoking my cigarette I see my imagination coming towards reality.

....a reality where I'm a hot looking girl, waiting for a punter, out on the streets. Hanging out with my 'homies', smoking and laughing.....and then turning on my punters and fucking them....

There's a knock at the door that brings me abruptly back to reality.....

It's Samantha, Martika's mother.

Martika throws me one of her leather jackets to put on before giving her mum a hug at the door. The kids bomb down the hall to grab hold of Sam's legs....

"C'mon, we're going." Martika says to me. I get just the briefest hi to Samantha before I'm pulled out the door and made to walk to the jewellery store that Martika gets her ears pierced at.

It's not that far. Just about 20 minutes walk away from my new home. The shop itself has a couple of barely teenage girls having their respective ears pierced and a rocker type just getting the information on how to look after his new tongue stud....

Pretty scary.

Martika talks to the girl at the desk and I notice a £20 note exchanging hands. The girl pockets it, nods her head and escorts me through the back to have my ears triple pierced.

Wether it's just the fear of it all or whatever the girl is doing, playing with my ears, I don't feel a thing until quite late on; she does one ear and then the next....the stinging in my ear building and building in intensity until my eyes feel like they're welling up...

"Oh, behave will ya!! Don't be such a fuckin' wuss!!" Whispers Martika right in front of my face. I try to suck it up.....

Soon, the girl's finished and, after a little clean up, sends me on my way with advice on how to look after them.

As we walk on home Martika lights up a cigarette....so I light up a cigarette.

"Good bitch." says Martika in a mellow voice for her. She links my arm as we walk on home. I feel special.

Samantha complements me on the job that the girl has done on my earrings.

"They'll be sore for a bit but you'll look lovely with earrings; nice big hoop one'll go with your face and hair. You'll see..."

As Sam says goodbye, Martika is opening up her laptop and getting out her purse. Then she scurries along to get a tape measure, pen and paper and, from what I gather, are some ring size templates.

Heights, sizes, widths and lengths are measured off and frenetic activity to write it all down....

Then firing up the laptop; from one website to another, buying makeup, jewellery, perfume, shoes, boots and bespoke clothing.....

"This shit'll be coming in the next few days. I've just spent £1800 on you to look like a fuckin' street whore. Think you'll just love this." she proudly goes down the list of 4 1/2" stiletto shoes in black, red and purple, some 4 1/2" black over-the-knee boots, a couple of black leather mini-skirts....likewise red leather....a plethora of different coloured bras, black and red fishnet shocking and matching suspender belts, a leopard print dress and some of the most scooped neckline, tight tops that you ever did see!!