April: Life on the Game - Chapter 1
A tale of fictional events
April: My Existence as a Street Prostitute
Chapter 1
The year is 2015. For the past five years, I've dedicated myself to Martika, my mistress. Devoting my life to fulfilling her desires as a street prostitute. This is the life I know. Nothing new, not anymore. Over the years, I've slept with countless men, bringing in heaps of money for her.
Martika claims that I've earned £600,000 through my sexual services. All of it goes to her. I've only kept £4,800 for myself, but I'm not bothered. In my world, hooking and earning money for my mistress is all that matters.
I'm quite low-maintenance; a pack of cigarettes, toast, pasta (at times), fruit, vodka, heroin, and cocaine are all I require to stay alive.
I've just had a shot of vodka and some coffee, finishing up a cigarette, while the children—Martika's—watch cartoons. She's at home tidying up, smoking a cigarette between her lips...dangling...chatting about her day. Mark's finishing off his coffee.
I'm wearing a robe, of course. Naked beneath. That's how Martika prefers me to stay.
Martika plans to go to the brothel after she takes the kids to school and sees to their needs.
Fine by me.
Martika, too, no longer drinks. Her grandmother, Sue, passed away at the end of last year, causing quite a fuss. So did I. Sue's death prompted Martika to follow a similar path, ingesting large quantities of heroin and cocaine, accompanied by god knows how much vodka.
The incident left Martika MAWING. She spent time away, partying, and gangbanging, resulting in a lot of emotional turmoil. Mark thought she'd died. She showed up, looking like hell, and was slapped around for it. The children were crying. I was hidden in the back when all that went down. Quite a traumatic experience.
Then, just a few days later, martika got swine flu. Couldn't believe it! She came home in poor health. Mark cared for her. She was on the verge of hospitalization. I helped out. After all, she's my owner.
She recovered, thankfully. I kept my usual drug and alcohol intake. Martika got her life back on track. She lost a lot of weight. Resumed selling herself. Back on the drink and drugs. Then, her back started to hurt. I joked that it was due to too much sex, which Martika found amusing...
She went to see a doctor...who referred her to a specialist...who conducted several scans and blood tests. In that specialist's office, alongside Mark, she was given this diagnosis: stop the drinking or risk dying before Christmas.
Amazing how she stopped drinking cold turkey, without any complaints. I, too, managed to maintain my normal drink and drug levels and continued my work as a prostitute.
So, we got things back under control. She's lost weight. She's back to selling her body. Back on the drink and drugs. Then she developed a back problem. Thanks to all that fucking...I joked.
She visited a specialist...who pointed her to another specialist...who performed a slew of scans and blood tests. In that doctor's office, with Mark and me present, she was given a dire warning: stop the drinking or she wouldn't make Christmas.
Amazing what she accomplished. After a little while, she simply stopped drinking. No fuss or complaints.
A few months have passed since then. She still pours my drinks, but she claims to have no fear of relapsing.
Proud of her. She's my lady...
We do a few lines of cocaine each, after Mark leaves for work and Martika takes the kids to school. I shower, get dressed, and have my face done. The doorbell rings as I'm putting on my makeup. Martika quickly showers and changes. We put on our hooker gear, light up, and head off to the brothel.
The other prostitutes—Wendy, Candy (my sister), Sarah, and Donna—wait inside. Jackie, Wendy's sister, manages the brothel. They're already dressed up, wearing their leather and lace outfits, fishnet stockings, and sky-high heels.
Martika always gives the best speeches to the prostitutes—my fellow sisters—to give them that sexual vibe and prepare them for their clients.
After her pep talk, the girls are all hyped up—just like me for her. She's got quite a talent with words.
Candy gets up and we chat momentarily. She's worked as a prostitute for over a year now. She's found her place, but remains frightened of Martika. And yet, she earns well...looks the part...often high on drugs...and drinks lots of vodka. She appeals to the clients. [Candy is an established prostitute who has embraced the lifestyle. Though fearful of Martika as the owner, Candy earns well, looks the part, usually under the influence of drugs, and spends a lot of time drinking vodka. Clients enjoy her company]
Sarah is taking another hit of cocaine while lighting her cigarette when Martika and I enter the room.
Sarah is new and pals with Amber. She's a cool lady. Great in bed, as some say. After Candy, Sarah ranks second on Martika's list. That's the prostitutes at the brothel. Wendy is part-time. An older gal. Does well. Been working with Martika for a while now.
As I embrace Candy and tell her to "Earn well, slut," Martika and I return to her house.
We arrive, I toss my jacket on the hook, spark one, and prepare a couple of coffees for us.
Martika goes on about the success of the brothel's prostitutes the previous night and how smoothly everything went.
Brothels are a unique business. Prostitutes on the streets, such as me, pre-screen customers to use their services. Street life can be harsh, so Martika's reputation ensures she doesn't tolerate any nonsense from these people. I've seen her beat up some idiot attempting to harass one of her prostitutes. She used her heel, spike upward, straight through his face! Crazy, right? She also has her niece, Amber, who's into martial arts. I've witnessed her high kick the living daylights out of someone. Seriously, girl.
Keeping unsavory characters out of the brothel is essential, as Martika doesn't want that crap impacting her business.
Most customers are nice individuals, prepared to pay extra for the prostitutes. They also seek bareback, meaning they're clean. A necessity...it's Martika's reputation at stake. She's the one in charge, you know?
The brothel is invite-only. Puncters receive a phone number and an address. There's an effort to avoid unwanted visitors by sharing their names with Jackie, the "front-of-house" girl.
Meanwhile, we street prostitutes have to sleep with whomever pays. I'm expected to comply. No exceptions. As Martika often says, "You're not here to think, lady. Do as I tell you. My decision is your decision. You try to think and I'll beat your ass."
This uncertainty gets me hot.
Love it.
Sorry, that's enough banging on about that. Martika's not working tonight; she's trying to be a wife and mother. She and Mark are out for the evening. We settle into household chores - cleaning and shopping - dressed in our scandalous garb. Then we prepare the evening meal for Mark's return. I'm next.
I shower, change, and prepare for my street job. I adore this experience.
I do two lines of coke, fix the children's hair, light up a cigarette, and don my jacket.
It takes about 10-15 minutes to reach my corner. I greet my fellow street prostitutes.
Carla, Amber, Jennifer, Felicity, Jo, Kat, Emma, Jessica, Carly, Sofia, Gemma...all the gals on duty tonight.
Exciting.
I reach my position...Elena just exits hers, getting into a car...Kat goes down the alley with a punter. We exchange greetings.
I sway down the road, rolling my hips along with it. Smoking a cigarette.
A few minutes pass, and I get selected. A routine customer. In a car.
I take cash, flaunt myself in front of him, enter, and head to the car park. There're a few other prostitutes outside, perhaps Jessica and Sofia.
Never mind.
My customer approaches me. I climb into the back of his vehicle, pulling my skirt up. His condom-covered length grows, eager to be inside me. [end of paraphrase]
This is the paraphrased text describing a woman named Sarah who is a friend of Amber and a prostitute working under Martika. The text describes the hierarchy of Martika's brothel business, where Sarah is the second-best earner, followed by Wendy, an older part-time worker, Donna, who sleeps with anyone, and Candy, the main earner. The narrator comforts Candy and then leaves with Martika to their house, where they discuss street life and Martika's reputation. They engage in household chores and prepare a meal for Martika's husband. The narrator prepares for her street job by getting ready, doing lines of coke, and lighting a cigarette.
Sarah, a newcomer, is friendly with Amber and has a reputation as a cool chick. She's said to have great sex skills. Following Candy, who's the top earner, Sarah stands as Martika's second-best worker. Wendy is another prostitute who works part-time and has an established clientele. Donna is known for sleeping with whoever pays; she's also successful. Back at the house, the narrator shows affection towards Candy and prepares to leave with Martika. They discuss the importance of maintaining a clean environment in the brothel and mention their former street life, which includes fending off rough customers.
As they complete household tasks, clean up, and prepare dinner for Martika's spouse, the narrator looks forward to her street job. She totals up her earnings and walks away. Her path intersects with Elena, who leaves in a car, and Kat, who waits for a customer. The narrator takes a moment to greet her friends before getting into a waiting car and heading to a car park where fellow prostitutes are gathered.
"Come on, babe. Give me a good fucking." I whisper in his ear as he lies on top of me...grunting...ramming that average-sized cock in and out...all the way in...long, hard thrusts...initially...then picking up the pace until he's a blur of motion. I'm getting turned on...my feminine juices are lubing up my fuck buddy...he's pushing all the right buttons...so soon...I'm out of breath, but try to purr and moan him on to his climax. I'm almost there, but not quite...while he shudders to a halt. I tell him to stay inside me while I vigorously finger myself before eventually cumming.
He wasn't expecting that. I wasn't expecting that!
He gets off of me...there's a near-silent "Wow.." from him as I get myself up off the chair, skirt down again...and slide back into the passenger's seat, next to my man. He grins a huge, shit-eating grin...I mimic it back.
"Thanks, baby, that was really something..." I say to him.
We drive back. I lean over, kiss him on the cheek, thank him for picking me up, and get out. Back to my spot.
Okay, next.
I light up and wait a while. A car pulls up. I overtly saunter over, cigarette in hand, and take a drag. Hooker 'stepping' to the door and reeling off the prices. It just spills from my lips.
This guy wants sex, so I get the money, drop my cigarette butt to the floor, put my heel on it, then sidle around the front and get in. I never ask his name. He asks mine, though. We drive back to the hooker's parking lot. Park up, then down to business in the backseat.
He's cute. Asian. Smells good. Works out, too, judging by his pecs in that tight t-shirt. Whatever. It's great to fuck a cute guy, but I'll fuck anyone, right? That's what turns me on.
I unclasp my seatbelt and slide myself into the back of his seat, bridging to raise my skirt while he's pulling down his jeans. He leans toward me...I unravel and then blow on a condom before he's ready to mount me.
He slides himself into my waiting vagina. Gentle...gentle...then fully in...smiling...concentrating...then relief that he's in.
Pretty soon my fuck partner grunts over me while shunting me around the backseat. The walls of the car echo with sighs and moans...from both of us. 15 minutes of heavy fucking before he spams to a halt, taking a deep breath while still inside me. He smiles. I smile back as he removes his penis.
We gather ourselves and get back into our positions in the car. We drive back, mostly in silence. I'm still wet.
I'm out...greeted by Amber...and we chat for a bit. Small talk, you know? We also do a couple of lines of cocaine down that alleyway. Jen, Amber's partner, is sucking off some punter as we make our way down to the end. Amber doesn't even blink an eye. That's what hookers do; they fuck and suck. That's business. Love? That never comes into it. Love is between them. They make that distinction. I find that fascinating.
I recall asking Jen about it once, after a big drink and drugs session, and she has no problem watching her girlfriend, Amber, take cock after cock because they love each other. "It's just a job, sweetheart. She's great at it. She does a shit-ton of punters. She's attractive and can fuck for hours. That's great for business...but I end up going home with her. I spend all day with her. We love each other. The punter's ain't got that."
We've done our couple of lines and head back past her.
A brief period of just chilling with Amber and then I'm ready to go again. I'm stopped by a guy in a car. He's in a Mercedes. Nice. Black. Of course. Looks hot as hell.
He lowers the window. We chat. White guy, mid 20s, I'd guess. Well-groomed. He wants full sex.
He pays, handing it to me through the window, and I get in the passenger's side. Seatbelt buckled up and away we go to the parking lot. We park up, I unbuckle, and my fuck buddy leans back to unbuckle his belt and then his pants. He must have come from work. I tug his boxers down. He's semi-erect. I lean over, stroke his member into a full erection.
There's just my breath between me and the tip of his cock. I lick...then engulf...making an 'O' ring...sucking on that condom.
We get in the back and I hike up my leather mini-skirt...creating a saddle for him...and he lowers himself on top, and then inside, of me. He sure smells good. Expensive.
I'm in it, going at it...hard...fast...a decent-sized penis inside me...moaning...smiling...deep.
Long strokes...and then an eruption of semen in that condom...and then he withdraws.
Back in the passenger's seat, all cleaned up...back to my spot.
A car soon enough, a few minutes after I get out. We agree to a full-blown sex act again, and after receiving the cash, I'm inside the vehicle and driving away.
Back at that car park. Felicity is a few meters away, also attending to personal duties...and no time passes before I do the same.
"Come on you filthy slut, lie down..." my sex partner calls out. I like that. I am a slut, after all. Me and my owner have talked about being sluts, many times. "They make the best whores..." she'll say.
We perform. I do.
We're done. We drive back. Smoke a cigarette. Walk those 5...10 meters...that's my designated area of work...and then we get back in the car again.
Anal. We drive. I get mounted. He cums. We drive back.
On and off, we try different sex acts, different men, younger...older...shorter...fitter...fatter...whatever.
I pick up a young lad walking down the street. He pays for sex. I guide him down an alleyway. I need to calm him down first, as he's trying to enter me before my skirt is up and before he has a condom on.
Again, I need to explain that we can't have sex without a condom or "...my pimp will kill me.." he questions this, until I add "...and you." to the sentence.
He gets the idea.
He puts on the condom, tossing the wrapper to the ground, and approaches me. He slips into my vagina, now very wet from the constant attention from various punters tonight, and we begin.
Slow strokes...then harder...then faster...feeling the warmth inside my vagina...and then...he cums...and reaches climax...condom pops out...wrapped in plastic and stored on the ground...flaccid and now spilled seed back in pants and jeans zipped up...and we head back to the street.
Another £45 earned.
It's getting late...not been picked up for a while. I offer my cigarette to Elena, who gratefully takes it, and we both light them up. We engage in conversation. It's nice.
The weather is nice...beginning to get chilly at this time - around 11pm...but there are still cars and people on foot. Money to be made.
I just finished another cigarette when a pedestrian approaches and offers to pay for sex. So, I meet him in the alleyway. I slide the money into my bag and guide him there. I slip my skirt up while standing by the wall. I unzip his pants and let his penis out, put on the condom, ready for him to enter me.
My middle-aged sex partner - black hair...going gray, black, slim build, moderate height - eases himself into me, as I take a drag on my cigarette and drape my arms around his neck invitingly. He pumps me hard, lifting me onto my toes. I take drags of my cigarette, blowing the smoke above us, as he fucks me hard. More grunts and cries from this prostitute.
"Come on, baby. Fuck me hard. I need a good seeing to..." I murmur in his ear, flicking my cigarette butt to the ground.
He groans and convulses inside me, followed by a groan.
Then, he withdraws. "That was excellent, slut." he says, and I pull my skirt back down.
On to the next.
A car stops, a few minutes later, and he wants sex. So, I get the money and go inside. Once again, back to the car park. Elena gets a fuck...then it's back to my spot.
I manage a few more before midnight. I notice Martika, my owner, and Mark making their way towards me as I exit the last punter's car.
They smile. Martika inquires how I'm doing. I share that I've earned quite a bit for her...let's say around 13 johns, mostly vaginal, one oral, one anal...£600 or so in total.
She's pleased. I hand over the cash. One by one, the other gals come over, acting friendly, talking to Martika and Mark, giving them their earnings - 100% of it at first, then 75%, then 50%, depending on how much they made - while they wait patiently for the 25% she's promised to return.
The girls are pleased. Mark chats casually with me while Martika speaks to the others. Eventually, we leave and head back to the brothel, where Martika talks to Jackie, collects her earnings. Some girls are working. Candy emerges with a customer, lighting up a cigarette as we see her.
Once more, Martika conducts a brief conversation before acquiring all the funds from them, leaving out the 25% share they've gained and Jackie's share.
We return home.
Martika and Mark enjoyed themselves, according to them - the former in jeans for a change - as they indulged in a dinner and drinks session...Martika partaking in mocktails, obviously.
We enter, Mark prepares some tea for them and I set out a bottle of vodka for myself.
We talk...we imbibe...then call it a day.
It's been a hectic day for me, babes. Time for some sleep before I start anew.
Conclusion of Part 1.
Read also:
- A Thrilling Excursion
- The One-Way Voyage (Day Zero)
- One Purpose, Her Pleasure Ch. 03
- What We Have to Lose
Source: www.nice-escort.de
