A work of fiction.
Chapter 4 - Working My Beat
3 Weeks have passed since I sat down with Martika and signed the contract. Not just any contract. The contract. The contract that gives my full co-operation, that I give myself fully emotionally, physically and sexually over to her control. To her understanding.
I've been beaten - physically, emotionally and verbally - into being pulled apart and recreated in her own image. To that end, I'm now a vegetarian. I smoke. I smoke a lot; between 40 and 60 cigarettes a day. I drink. I drink an awful lot; at least a litre of vodka a day. Drugs, I'm not so sure of the quantities - if I'm told to do cocaine, then it's somewhere in the ballpark of 6-8 grammes. Heroin? I believe, when I'm on that, it's around 500 mg, street level, as they call it, of course.
I've had more sex, so far, than most 18 year old girls have in their whole year. All in 3 weeks.
I have my 'branding', on my arse, I dress how Martika wants me. I use language that Martika feels is appropriate. I am created in her very own image.
I wake up at home today, as per usual, with a kick in my back. "Bitch, get up. Today is the fuckin' day for you." shouted Martika.
I get up, naked, and pull on my robe. After a quick visit to the toilet, I head downstairs.
Martika is making the toast as I pour out two pint glasses of vodka for us both. Breakfast made, we consume and then, using the downstairs bathroom, powder my nose with a couple of lines of coke.
Good way to start the day.
I light up a cigarette and polish off the remainder of the vodka.
We chat, we smoke, then once we've finished our cigarettes I head up to use the shower and get ready. Apparently, it's another gangbanging for me today, which I'm totally down with, and then getting my shit together to work my beat.
My beat.
My first time on the prostitute stroll. On the game, as they call it.
I'll have my own patch. Wow.....that thought really is getting me wet. Well....wetter than I am in the shower, anyways.
So, I'm out. Dried. Dressed in a red top, black leather mini skirt, fishnets, heels. Hair done. Jewellery on. Nails painted. Cigarette burning away in the ashtray whilst I put on my makeup. I want to be the best that I can be for tonight.
I head downstairs, to where my owner, Martika, is waiting. She throws me my jacket and we're off, over to Emma's house. I could make it there blindfolded, if I needed to, so often had I been.
The guys are there. Pleasantries are made. Bottom's groped and then we're down to it. Well....more specifically, I'm down to it. Skirt pulled up, on my back or on all four's, sexual partner with his penis inside me pumping away hard...fast.....until he stiffens and cums....and is quickly replaced by another....and then another.
Semen, as always, leaks and trickles down my leg, but...whatever. Just normal. I just light up another cigarette as Emma brings in the drinks.
I down my half pint of vodka, do a couple of lines of cocaine and bend over to get taken anally.
Cigarette lit and jacket on, we head back to the house. Martika is happy with how I am doing and acting today. Get in, after picking up Jas from the neighbour and then sit down with a cup of coffee.
As Jas plays outside, Martika shoots me up again and I'm off in the land of nod. Out for the count.
I'm probably out for an hour or so. Martika smiles.
"Right, bitch. We've got to get you some rubbers for tonight...."
"Cool, boo." I answer, but about stirring.
"We've got to go to the Chemist and buy 'em, bitch. C'mon..." she says, practically dragging me up by my hand. I'm not quite understanding, I tell her, as she asks the neighbour to look after Jas and Miya for a little bit.
So, jacket on again, out the door, lighting up and walking to the big chemist. It takes around 15 minutes or so, from where Martika lives, and Martika informs me that they come in boxes of 10, and that she expects me to buy two boxes tonight....
"Oh, and don't think that that's it. You'll be buying some tomorrow, the day after, the day after that...and so on. Each night that you're working, I want them to know what you are."
So, she hangs around outside whilst I go in, having that scent of the glorious combo of perfume, cigarettes and semen around me, and strut over to the 'Family Planning' section, under Martika's watchful eye. I pick up what I require and then.....join the queue.
God. A bloody queue!
I feel eyes burn into me. I'm wearing my black leather mini, red top, black fishnets, red heels. Lots of jewellery. Like, lots. I look cheap, which is how Martika wants me. I love the look, and what it represents - normally - but stuck in a shop with normal people like this? Highly embarrassing. But then, that's how Martika wants it.
All part of the deconditioning plan. Get me used to this, just like everything else she has made me do, and at some point I really won't give a shit. Until then, get used to it bitch.
The queue takes a while and the person on the till is a woman.....and she gives me a 'look'. Like, she knows what I represent. She knows what I'm gonna be doin' tonight. Selling myself.
So, I put on a bit of a forced smile as I hand her the cash. She processes it and asks if I want a bag. I tell her that I'm ok and pop the condoms in my handbag - Martika makes me take my tacky, to-be, work handbag - and slowly walk out to the door, where Martika has been watching my every move.
"Nice going, bitch...." she says as she offers me a cigarette on our way back home. Naturally, I accept.
As per routine, I look after the kids as Martika showers, then we swap as she preps our meal.
Mark comes home, we eat, we chat. He wishes me good luck for tonight and Martika and I go upstairs to get dressed and ready for tonight. As we do our faces, we chat.
"Bitch, you fuck anyone that pays. You turn anyone down and I'll batter you. You chicken out and run off? I'll find you and I'll batter you. Got that?"
"I'm not going to chicken out, boo. You're my owner. I am going to do my best to earn for you tonight, boo. I'm scared and I'm excited. This is what the last 3 weeks have been about, boo." I tell her.
Right. Almost ready to get going.
"Arm, bitch..." asks Martika as I put my arm out as Martika preps and injects me with the now-familiar heroin. Untying me and, as Martika gets to spend her 'quality time' with Mark, I'm stopping the bleeding, pulling down my sleeve and generally getting myself ready for tonight's adventures.
Martika doesn't take long and, when she returns she has a smile on her face.
One last toilet break and then she checks my handbag, making sure I have my cigarettes, lighter, lippy, chewing gum, rubbers and a purse (that's empty) and then she throws me a jacket.
Mark wishes me luck...
And...we're off. Off to sell myself.