I ran away from home at the age of fifteen, only to be lured in by a pimp.
My life has been hell since then.
But not once did I ever consider being abducted by aliens.
Different location, same situation. I'm still a wh*re.
Except... these alien males want more than to just get off.
They want to make me come - a lot!
Maybe being abducted by aliens wasn't such a bad thing after all...
WARNING: Content for readers 18+ due to language, sexual content, and adult situations. This is 100% pure erotica and not an erotic romance. There's no happily ever after or happy for now ending. If you want a plot or character development, you've come to the wrong place!
Bart shook me so hard my teeth snapped together. He hauled back one hand and slapped me across the face. It wasn’t the first time he’d hit me. In fact, it was rather common. The heat blooming across my cheek wasn’t much different from any other day. It was a wonder anyone wanted to pay for my services. More often than not, I had bruises covering my body. Although, some guys got off on it.
“You stupid, bitch! How many times do I have to tell you? You either pay what’s owed, or I’ll get the money out of you the hard way.”
I’d already been down that road. Stripped. Tied to a bed. Then he’d charged for men to fuck me one right after the other. It had been three days of pure hell. Then again, I wasn't living the high life on the street corner either. No matter how I looked at it, Bart owned me. The only way to leave him was to die or have a client offer to buy us outright. But that only happened once.
According to the news, that poor girl hadn’t had an easy death. Police found her body a week later, tortured and mutilated. No thanks. I’d rather take my chances with the Johns and Bart. It might not be glamorous, but I figured the chance of surviving was higher.
“You hearing me, Cherry? You get me five hundred before morning.”
I nodded, knowing it wouldn’t do any good to say I couldn’t. It wasn’t for a lack of trying. Not all men wanted a redhead. Not to mention, I wasn’t fifteen anymore. Yeah. I said fifteen. Bart lured me in after I'd run away from home. He’d been charming, even sweet. It only lasted a week before he’d put me to work, after making sure I knew escape wasn’t an option.
I’d been one of his whores ever since. While I might only be twenty-three, eight years of prostitution hadn’t been kind to me. At least I wasn’t hooked on drugs like some of the girls. It might make things easier, but it would only kill me faster, and I somehow still managed to hold on to the dream I’d get out of being a whore one day. I’d once read a romance set in the eighteen hundreds where a man fell in love with his mistress. If I had a chance to be with one man and only one, I wouldn’t care if he loved me or not, as long as he didn’t beat the hell out of me.
“Get your ass to the corner of Maxwell and Park. You hear me?”
His question snapped me back to reality. Dreaming right now wouldn’t do me any good. I knew it was a miracle I could dream at all, but there was a time and place for everything. And right now was the time to work.
“Yeah, Bart. I got it.”
He released me and I stumbled in my four-inch heels. Walking off, I hurried to the corner he’d assigned me. I knew he’d have someone watching. If I took too long to get there or tried to keep any of the money I earned, then Bart would find out. I pulled down the strap on my cropped tank so the top barely covered my nipple. Leaning against the lamp post, I tried to be as provocative as possible, making sure they could tell I didn’t wear anything under the skirt that stopped right below my ass cheeks.
The wind blew my hair away from my face, and I tried not to shiver. It wasn’t getting any warmer out here, but covering up didn’t exactly pull in the customers. From the corner of my eye, I saw a man approaching. Hands in his pockets, a swagger I’d come to associate with the local thugs, and a smirk on his lips. Looked like maybe I’d have my first client for the night. Bart would be pleased.
“How much?” he asked as he drew closer.
“Depends. What do you want, Sugar?” I licked my lips and leaned forward, exposing my nipple.
"I'm only procuring the merchandise." He eyed me up and down. "Client wants someone open to multiple dicks at one time."
A gang bang? Not my favorite. If I could make a big chunk of what I needed to pay Bart by morning, it would cut down on how many more customers I’d need tonight. Might be my best bet.
“For how long?” I asked.
He shrugged. “However long they want.”
“We talking three men? Four?”
When he smiled, a shiver ran down my spine. For a moment, I saw pure evil peering out me from his dark eyes. “You’re quite the little slut, aren’t you? Didn’t even balk at getting stuffed by three dicks at once. Done it before?”
“It pays the rent,” I muttered. It wasn't like I got off on it. I'd never gotten off. Well, not unless it was with my hand. After reading that book, I'd wondered what an orgasm would feel like and decided to try giving myself one.
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