April - From Teen to Street Hooer

A work of fiction

Chapter 8 - Left Out In The Cold

Just over another year has passed. I'm not a teen anymore. I'm 2 years into my career as a streetwalker. I've learned from my mistakes from the past.

I never go without rubbers, not with the punters anyways. Not after my owner, Martika, broke my ribs in a fit of anger. I deserved that. I shouldn't have been so fuckin' stupid.

She's added more bitches to her stable. She runs 7 of us now. Well, 7 and me...so that's 8, right? I'm the OG, baby. The only bitch that she owns. I'm also the only bitch that she calls 'Bitch'. The others, by now, she calls by their own names. Me? I've been told by her that I '..still don't deserve it.'

Even so, I have a special link to Martika...and the other bitches know that. I am treated with some respect by them. The other tarts out on the streets that Martika doesn't run? They just think I'm an idiot.

Whatever, boo.

The deal has changed for the other bitches. Martika makes them hand over 75% of their earnings to her. It used to be only 70%. Me? I still give her 93.66% of what I make...willingly, of course.....and I still live with her and do what she tells me to do. The prices have gone up too...maybe due to inflation, who fuckin' knows...but we charge £25 for a blowjob, £45 for regular sex and £80 for anal now.

Like I said, I do what the fuck she tells me to.

If she says jump, I ask 'how far, boo?'. If she says snort a line of coke, I do it without asking. I've learned...the hard way...but I've learned.

It's been a while since I've been physically hit. I'm obedient. I'm glad I don't get hit. Martika flips still between calling me '..a waste of space..' and a '...good bitch...'. It's a bit like quicksand, I guess. Not sure of my footing. Where I am with her.

But, she's my owner. She makes the rules. I'm still infatuated by her. What she says goes, y'know?

So...I'm still on the drink - vodka, just like her - and drugs...again, whatever she wants me to take. Sometimes Heroin...mainly cocaine. I had OD'd some time back...Martika rescued me and brought me into hospital. She saved this bitch's life, so I owe her. I still smoke, like she does, she has final say on my clothes and shit...oh, and if Jen or Amber - some of the other bitches that she runs, and Amber is her aunt - want to fuck me then they just give word to Martika and I go with them to party and shit.

The OD thing was scary. But my girl, apparently, found me down an alleyway and got me sorted. I even had a couple of days off, when I got home. She got my head on straight and got me back on the horse. She got me back on an even keel. Then I was out, doing whatever drugs she wanted me to take and banging whatever punters were out on the streets.

I still chat to my folks, in normal 'April speak'....that sounds so fuckin' foreign to me now. Every sentence of mine is now littered with expletives, unlike how I was back when I first came to Martika for training. I was so fuckin' prim and proper, boo. Never used the 'F' bomb, certainly never used the 'C' word and calling myself or other's 'bitch' like I do...that was unfathomable.

But, I have to remember all that shit when I try talking to my folks on the phone. I try to ensure that it is during regular working hours, and that I am not too stoned for it all.

They are getting a bit antsy about not seeing me, now, for over 2 years...but, I hope, with the conversation that it keeps them fairly happy.

Obviously, they would shit themselves if they knew the truth, boo.

..and the truth today, boo, is that it's just after 8pm on a weekday evening. It's winter. It's starting to snow, as per the forecast, and this bitch is in her knee high, 4 1/2" heeled black boots, black leather mini skirt, fishnets, red top and a white fake fur, 3/4 length coat. Pendants, rings, bracelets, bangles...they all catch the light from the overhead streetlamp...as I take a drag of my half smoked cigarette. My regulation hooking handbag - that tacky red one - is hanging from my shoulder as I walk up and down a well-trodden path.

Waiting to get picked up.

I've made good coin already. 2 fucks and a blowjob, so this bitch is up and running. Martika will be pleased.

She's just getting out of the car that's pulled up, wiping her mouth. She comes to me. I offer her a cigarette. She accepts and I light her up. We shoot the shit a bit.

I see a regular's car pull up, throw my cigarette butt to the floor and chat the punter up. We agree for a fuck, I get the cash, I get in...we drive....we stop....I get fucked....I pull my coat back on....we drive back...I get out, waiting for the next punter.

Mere seconds before me, I see Jen up the street getting picked up...and then my next punter turns up, asking for anal...We drive to the spot as I see what looks like Emma, Martika's bestie, riding a guy and nearby the back of Jen's head bobbing up and down out of view.

This is real life. This is my reality. Either down this car park, or a nearby filthy alley, or maybe in an old telephone box. Whatever, boo. Fucking....or sucking....taking cock in some shape, or form...making money...and obediently giving it to my owner.

This is what I live for.

I don't understand it. I don't need to. Martika doesn't care what it is. It is what it is, after all. Is she taking advantage? Hell, no boo. I gladly said that I wanted to be just like her...for her to train me...and, to be just like her, I have to do what she do, right? Do what she says. I signed that contract giving her exclusive rights on my body.

Martika got me to read this book, last year, called 'The Surrender Experiment' by this guy called Michael A Singer. In it, he gives up control of his life, has less stress and anxiety and good things happen. I bet he didn't start selling himself on street corners, boo...but I never feel stressed these days....not like when I was about to start this...my angelic self really had issues with the devil on my shoulder, which was Martika's life and her writings of how she lived on that social media platform. That was a struggle for me.

Now? I feel free. Ironic as I am owned by her. Her sexual slave, for want of a better term. But free to live this lifestyle.

Martika's lifestyle is mad, really. But mad is normal, right? Especially for slags like me.

She recently gave birth to another child. Another from one of her punters. She has 3 now, from punters going with her bareback. She's well happy over that. So is her husband, Mark. That was their plan when they got together, to get her knocked up by her punters. Martika, after all, was the result of her own mum, Samantha, another streetwalker, getting knocked up herself.

She used to go out dogging too. I find that fascinating. Her and Emma. Mark would drive them up, I think, to this layby in Leicester and they'd be man after man cumming in both of them. They're both sex addicts.

Martika is heavily into her drugs, of course. I've worked it out; she'll shoot up heroin, like, once a month but keep on line after line of cocaine the majority of her time. In double figures, taking lines? I guess. She loves Vodka too. At the very least a litre a day. I'm not quite there yet, myself, but do my best. But, she loves her cigarettes the most. 60 a day. When she was carrying her baby, Suzanne, she cut down on her smoking - which did make her a '..grumpy bitch..'...her words - to just 20 a day.

I still had to smoke what I did...which was what she used to do. Whatever, I enjoy smoking, boo.

So, I'm thinking all this shit whilst the punter I'm with spasms to a halt inside me, having just cum. I come back to my senses as he pulls out, throwing the used prophylactic out the window, and putting himself away. I turn around, off all four's, arch and pull my skirt down. No panties, 'cos bitches like us don't need them, boo.

I climb back into the passenger's seat, reapply my lippy and we're heading back. My man likes what I did. I have no idea what I did, boo...I just let him empty himself in me. Y'know? Anyways, I graciously accept his thanks and thank him for picking me up.

Right. Next one!

Not a few minutes go by and there's this guy is on foot. He wants a blowjob. I take him down the alleyway and suck his dick. Kneeling before him, in the snow....pulling down his joggers....bringing that delicious cock out of his boxers...and then going wild on it...hands...tongues...mouth...all working in unison...until he cums in my mouth.

Nice.

Back out, waiting for punters. I light up.

A couple of girls are passing on the other side of the street. They see Martika and I, sneer and then shout 'Fuckin' skanks!' at us. Martika just gives them the finger. They soon walk by.

Ain't no big deal.

I see Martika on the phone, when I'm not busy taking cock, and she's talking to Mark. I think. Guess she's keeping up with how her youngest is doing. The perils of parenthood, I guess.

I feel a hand om my arse. I turn around, thinking it's a punter. No, it's not. It's Jen. We kiss. I'm a passive bitch. I let Martika's bitches do or say what they want. She says she wants to party with me and Amber tonight. As usual, I say 'Boo, just ask my owner if that's ok. If she says yeah, then we'll party and shit, 'k?' She nods, spots Martika and heads over to chat to her.

The universal hooker greeting of offering out cigarettes happens, and Jen lights Martika up. Jen is pointing to me. I can see Martika nod her head.

'Bitch, you're mine tonight...' replies Jennifer as she walks past me a few minutes later. She's got a wicked smile on her face.

I'm picked up again and driven to the hooker car park, again to be balled, and then back to my spot. Martika's just finished her punter. She nods at me, looks down the alleyway and so we head down, past Carla who is getting her arse burst open by her punter, down to the very end where Martika preps some coke and we do a couple of lines...each...

We're just tidying up when Carla's punter notices.

'Hey, can I have some of that?' he asks.

'Fuck off!' comes Martika's stern reply. I just look to the ground, shrug my shoulders. It's what I do.

I chat a little, throughout the night, with Carla and Jessica, respectively, just to pass the time. Between punters, y'know? Beats just walking up and down a 5 metre strip all evening. Less boring.

I chew my gum, blow bubbles and shit, y'know?

I pull some more punters. There's waves of no snowing and light snow....occasional flourishes of heavy downfalls for 5 to 10 minutes at a time....It's cold, but not freezing.

I do enjoy the warmth of being inside....in a car....and getting fucked....better than shivering out there. Plus, I earn. I get money for my owner.

Whatever. I end the night, just before Carla, and hand our money over to Martika. She pays the other bitches...not me....I've done 13 punters, a few up my arse....a couple in my gob....but most in my vagina. I've earned better than the other bitches.

Fact.

As Martika is giving each of the girls their cut - Amber and Jennifer amongst them - they pocket their cash and Jen links arms with me. Amber lights us all up and we head to their house.

Jen kisses me, passionately, as Amber gets the drinks...once we're in their house. Pint of Vodka for me, Brandy for the ladies. They put the music on...quietly....I feel Amber's hand up my skirt as Jen helps to take my coat off...I feel her fingers in my vagina...coming, pardon the pun, from the back....

I turn around...I feel Jen's hand on my face...caressing...taking a gulp from her brandy...smiling...then leaning in to kiss me...passionately...tongues...dart into mouths..

Amber lets go....eases my skirt up...and lovely places me on the sofa.....Jen straddles me...on her knees and continues to kiss...when Amber is lapping at my now exposed vagina.

I still have my drink in my hand...Jen notices...grabs it...and delicately leans over to place both hers and mine on the table in front...and then continues to kiss and caress anew.

It seems like a lifetime....on the edge...in another world...sheer bliss....before they swap over and Jen is licking at my now very swollen cunt lips....I'm beyond moist, boo....and Amber is the most amazing kisser.

I get off, big style.....I hear myself humming...moaning...cumming...

Amber gets off me and sits by my side and Jen gets out from between my legs. She smiles.

She's quickly on her heels, getting the cocaine for us to 'party' with.

God, I love this shit.

Jen takes a couple of hits...likewise Amber...but I blast 2 lines per nostril. That's what me and Martika do. Go big or go home? Fuck yeah, boo.

There's more drink....more drugs....making Jen cum...before the obligatory bang on the door from Martika and me coming to, in a 69, on top of Jen....Amber stroking my head.

I get my shit on, come down the stairs and I'm greeted by Martika and the kids. It's been icy overnight and so walking back home, on those heels, is quite precarious.... but this bitch manages it.

As the kids play, there's the usual breakfast - pint of Vodka, toast, cocaine and coffee - before I get my shit together, going for a shower and getting dressed again.

I was tired, but all that coke gives me a new lease of life, boo.

So, doing shit around the house. Helping with Martika's new baby. Bite to eat for lunch. Afternoon, over to the chemists to buy my usual rubbers for work.

I don't give a shit these days. It is what it is. I'm desensitised by it all these days. People looking at me, sneering, treating me like shit. That doesn't even register. Now, if Martika looked down on me and treated me like shit then I'd be concerned. But, teenage girls, laughing? Oh, give me a fuckin' break! That doesn't ever concern me, boo.

I get my 2 packs of rubbers, proudly, at the till. Pay the boy and then head on back home, the obligatory cigarette lit as I do so.

Again, in my high heeled boots it's a bit of a thing, but I manage to get home ok. No falls.

I'm in and there's Martika's mum, Samantha, there having a coffee. She says hi and gives me a hug. She always gives me a hug. I like that.

Sammy Jo is over to spend some time with Suzanne, her newest grandchild. Suzanne is so named after Samantha's mum....Martika's grandmother....who was the 1st generation street hooker in the family. She got herself knocked up at 15, with Samantha, after being a streetwalker for just a matter of months.

Apparently, getting kicked out of the family home she resorted to prostitution to survive. Survive and thrive, so I hear. She thoroughly loved the drink and drug lifestyle that came with it, pointing Samantha into that line of work, initially, and then encouraging Martika to do the same.

Suzanne passed away some years ago, but she's held deeply in the hearts of both her daughter and her granddaughter.

That's cool.

Martika, as usual, reiterates the birth of the child...in comparison to that of Jasmin. I hear this a lot.

So, to tell the tale; Martika gave birth to her first born, Miya, after giving up hooking 2 weeks previous. Plenty of time to get her shit together, right? Right. But, Jasmin...Jas came early. Martika tells of going through her last few days of her final week, before her decision to take the last couple of weeks off, out on her beat, fucking punters.

She'd banged this punter in the back of his car...and then her fuckin' waters broke!

The driver, obviously, shit himself....as did Martika, with the head of the child getting very close to the opening. She composed herself enough to phone up Mark, who hightailed it up - complete with Miya - to get Martika in the back of his car and drive to the hospital.

Luckily, just in time. A healthy birth.

All before I got involved, obviously, but she told me about it....many times.

As usual, Sammy Jo is meticulously made up and presented. Rings....pendants...a shitload of bangles clank whenever she moves her arms. The obligatory leather mini skirt....tight top...It's almost like I was created, by Martika, in her image.

She's sipping her coffee, just chatting about everyday stuff. She's very down to earth. Sometimes, with some subjects, she's hinting on books - she's very well read - and movies and health things.

I like her. My world, obviously, just consists of sex, drugs, alcohol, clothes and jewellery...and then kids stuff. My owner says that is all I need to know about. She makes me watch porn too, when I'm flyin' the red flag.

'This is you. This is your life, bitch. Breathe it in. That's the only shit you need to know about. What's happenin' in the world means fuck all to you. You need to be that narrow minded. You have no opinions on anything. What I think is what you think. Got it?'

'Sure boo. I get it...' I'd always answer.

The only time I knew anything about the real world are the snippets that I'd see on the TV...Mark likes to watch news programmes, amongst other shows, so I'd get a hint from that. But, yes...Martika would tell me what my opinion should be on things that mattered.

That's sticking with 'The Programme' as she'd always tell me..usually between hits, kicks and verbal abuse. 'The Programme' is king.

...and I'm all about sticking to the programme.

Martika asks for me to get the coke out. Obviously, Sammy Jo doesn't partake these days but she used to party and shit, mainly with cocaine but sometimes with heroin, when she was younger. She'll do it, occasionally now....but today ain't obviously one of those days.

She lights up a cigarette and smiles as she watches Martika and I take a few lines of the well prepped stuff on the plate....Bent over, rolled up fiver, huge snort...wipe the nose...then onto the other nostril.

Samantha takes a drag of her cigarette....'Y'know, April, luv...It's pretty amazing. I remember you first seeing my daughter here, just before you were having your ears pierced. Heavy eyeliner. I know that wasn't your thing...and just about learning to smoke..'

'And...look at you now? Banging out line after line of coke, looking hot and sexy. A seasoned prostitute. You've took to it well.'

I smile, proudly 'I have a good owner, boo..'

'Oh, less of that 'owner' bollocks. I hate that. But, you've applied yourself and I hear from the punters that I go with, well...they really like you too. That's good.'

'Thank you, boo..' I start, reaching for a cigarette myself and lighting up. There...blowing out the excess smoke before continuing 'I have tried my hardest. I love the look, the attitude and all that shit. I want to get the same kind of rep that you and Martika have...'

Martika smiles...then shakes her head 'You're not even in the same fuckin' league as either of us. Nowhere near...'

Samantha interjects '...yet...'

Martika '...yet...ok...alright...'yet'. Mum's been selling herself for over 30 years now...I'm in my teens. You? Just two fuckin' years. Bitch, you have a long way to go...'

'Whilst that is very true and accurate, luv..' starts Sammy Jo '...you have at least made the start. You have regulars, you must earn pretty well and you get on ok with the other tarts. So, I'd say that you're doing fine, luv. Ok? Forget about shit for brains here..', points at Martika '..I know a good hooker when I see one, and you'll get there. You're doing fine..'

Martika looks uncomfortable.

'I do this to impress my owner, boo. Thanks for those kind words, but Martika's is the only opinion and praise that matters to me.' I answer, looking my owner in the eye.

'That's ok, luv....but I'm always around if you want advice, ok?' Samantha finishes.

We have another brew, and Sammy Jo plays with Suzanne a little, before she has to go. We exchange hugs and she's gone.

The time has come to prep tea and do our normal routine. Miya and Jas are outside at this point, making a snowman and giggling. We join them for a little bit whilst food is cooking. It's lovely to watch them this happy together...working together...playing together....having fun.