Stephanie's Humiliation Ch. 08

The men chuckled and Tyrone took another sip on his bottle, feeling pretty happy with his deal.

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LaQuisha, a short woman sporting a weave and knock-off Gucci threads, arrived thirty minutes later. When she barreled into the apartment, talking animatedly more to herself than to the big man who opened the door, she suddenly stopped dead in her tracks and pulled back her sunglasses.

"What the hell?" she shrieked, seeing Tyrone with his feet up on the naked white girl. "...Oh ma lord!"

"Hey, LaQuisha," Tyrone said pulling out his wallet. "Meet Stephanie, my new ho. As you can see, she needs a new outfit so I can put her to work tonight. Take her and take this and get her into somethin' nice, understan'?"

LaQuisha hurried over and snatched up the roll of twenties. "Yes, T," she said sweetly, giggling at the sight of the pretty girl on the floor. "You so bad."

"Don't disappoint me and maybe I'll give you some a that when you get back."

LaQuisha stuffed the roll in her pocket and looked Stephanie up and down as Tyrone finally let the disgraced woman up off the carpet, seeing the nearly dried cum stuck to her face and the crude words scrawled above her brow. Jamal roughly threw the fur coat at her and LaQuisha grabbed the girl by the wrist, hurrying her out and making her scramble to conceal herself. They went out to the parking lot where LaQuisha bundled her into her car.

The ride through the neighborhood only helped to confirm Stephanie's misgivings. The streets were neglected and crime-ridden, with not a single white face in sight. Throughout the journey, LaQuisha talked incessantly in her annoying high-pitched tone, telling her what she should expect, where to go and where to avoid and why she shouldn't dare to disobey Tyrone. Stephanie couldn't get a word out the entire way and instead decided to sit tight until they got to wherever it was they were going. They soon parked up on a corner, outside a clothing store and LaQuisha practically pulled Stephanie out of her seat and into the building, almost as if she was afraid to be seen with her. Then again, maybe she was just eager to get back to the apartment and claim her expenses.

The store was empty except for rack upon rack of colorful and cheap clothing. One woman at the counter waved LaQuisha through and Stephanie found herself being led down a stairway into a darker basement floor. Unlike the relatively normal clothing upstairs, the designs tucked away downstairs were notably wilder and trashier. Miniskirts and bodices hung next to boxes of fake jewelry, fake nails, weaves and plastic handbags. Marijuana pipes and bongs filled the shelves next to tacky ornaments and novelty lighters. Then there were the other items that reminded Stephanie worryingly of her mistress's 'special' closets. Dildos, PVC outfits, lingerie and other cheap sex aids lined one of the walls, giving the place a seedy atmosphere of forbidden temptation.

Another woman at the counter saw LaQuisha descend the steps and called out to her. "Hey, girl! What brings you over these parts?...And who that with you?" The store owner heard the second set of footsteps and watched with curiosity as her friend was followed inside by the beautiful red-haired white woman, clutching a thick fur coat around herself for protection.

"Denise! I'm on an errand. For Tyrone." LaQuisha didn't need to say anymore than that. She shoved Stephanie forward for her friend to inspect. Denise peered at the girl as she stumbled closer and immediately noticed the writing on her forehead. Stephanie looked down at the floor.

Great. Yet another person to see me like this.

"Oh shit!" Denise suddenly burst into laughter. "No wonder you in a hurry. Don't worry, I think we can find something that'll work."

LaQuisha steered Stephanie into a small changing room and told her to wait in there while they picked her out something to wear. Stephanie could hear them from inside the stall, joking and tittering among themselves as they walked the aisles, grabbing items off the hooks and debating whether they would suit her.

"Ok, bitch," LaQuisha's voice sang out as she pulled the curtain back. "Gimme your coat. Hurry it up!" Stephanie reluctantly shrugged off the garment and handed it over, only to have a number of items shoved into her hand. "Put these on and come out to show us when you ready. We just guessed your size so if anything's not right...well...tough shit, pretty girl. Now like I said, hurry the fuck up."

Stephanie's heart sank as she looked at the coat-hangers in her hand but despite the garish and sleazy selections, she at least now had something to cover her nudity. Unstrapping her shoes, she began to sort through the items.

Denise and LaQuisha were waiting outside impatiently and as Stephanie emerged, they stopped chatting and turned to admire their special sense of fashion. She had replaced her black pumps with a pair of black ankle boots. Her ivory legs were encased in fishnet stockings that traveled up to a pair of skintight leopard print booty shorts, so snug they left her displaying a very noticeable camel toe. Meanwhile, her upper body was adorned with a slinky top, complete with a plunging neckline that more than hinted at her lacey push-up bra underneath. Completing the look, she wore a pair of large gold hoop earrings. All in all, she looked like stereotypical white trash. The girls slapped a high-five.

As it turned out, Tyrone was also happy with the result and skimmed off two of the twenty dollar bills for LaQuisha to spend on her usual diet of soda, weed and bling. He had already picked out a street corner for Stephanie to work her first night and she was allowed to shower and primp herself with heavy makeup before she began her first shift. All she was given was a small clutch bag to store her earnings and a few essential items.

"Now remember the rules, bitch," he snarled at her as they drove over to the spot. "Use the cell phone to message me after every job. Use the rubbers. And don't show your white ass back at the crib until at least 3AM and you got at least thirty bucks with you."

"Yes, sir."

He dropped her off just as the sun was going down. Stephanie did the math. Fifteen jobs within the next five hours. The car pulled away and she was alone under the glow of the streetlamp.

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The neighborhood was even more unwelcoming in the darkness. She felt like eyes were watching her from the alleyways and car windows wherever she walked. Memories of stories she had heard of hookers going missing off the streets or found bloodied and beaten at the hands of some psychopathic curb crawler cycled through her head. Other prostitutes caked in makeup hung out nearby, giving her evil looks as she wobbled along the sidewalk in her high heeled boots.

"Yeah, you better keep walking, Miss Thang!" one of the sleazily dressed women yelled from across the street. "This is OUR patch!"

She didn't look at them. Instead, she took a deep breath and forced herself to put the dangers to the back of her mind.

Just treat it like a game. Like a movie. You're the lead actress in the remake of Pretty Woman. Yeah, that's it...One of these guys may even be a rich banker who'll save you from all this. Yeah, it's just a movie...show 'em what you can do.

It didn't take long for a car to roll up alongside her and slow to a halt. The window wound down and the young man behind the wheel caught her eye. Evidently, he liked what he saw. "Hey, baby. Lookin' good. You havin' a good night?"

"Sure am," Stephanie replied, approaching the vehicle and leaning seductively inside. "How about you, sweetie?"

At least he's ok looking, she thought, peering at his youthful features emerging from the shadows.

"Not bad. How much?"

"Two bucks, honey."

The crawler frowned for a moment. Then he laughed. "Right! Sure! Hey I may look young and I may be from outta town but I ain't no dummy."

"No, really...it's two bucks. That's it."

"What is? Are we talking about the same thing?"

"Two bucks for whatever your pleasure. Two bucks a pop."

He stared at her, confused, massaging the stubble on his jaw. He looked at her cleavage and at her stunning facial features. "You a cop? Is that it?"

"No, I'm not a cop. I just...I need the money, ok?"

The man nodded slowly and Stephanie realized that he was assuming she was a drug addict down on her luck.

Whatever. If it gets this over with more quickly, they can think whatever they want.

The door locks sprang up. "Get in."

They drove down a side street and parked up behind a tattoo parlor, all the while the guy glanced at her legs and shifted nervously in his seat. She was fairly sure he wasn't going to be her Richard Gere. Sitting in the dark, he pulled out two crumpled dollar bills and placed them on the dashboard, waiting for her to make the first move. Stephanie took them and dropped them in her purse.

"Ok...so what do you want?"

"I want you to sit on my lap and fuck me," he responded matter-of-factly.

"That's it?" she asked, surprised, but then quickly wondered why she'd said that out loud. The man just nodded and she could tell he seemed anxious to hurry things up. The low price had unnerved him and he probably still thought this was some sort of sting. To put an end to his fears, she tugged her shorts down, pulling her knees up to wriggle them off in the cramped confines of the passenger seat. He watched her take them off and calmly unzipped his pants, lowering them to his thighs. Stephanie could see that he was already at half mast and reached down, stroking him gently. "It's ok. I'm gonna fuck you hard like a good little whore and make sure I earn every cent of those two measly dollars."

Let's get this over with. I just know Tyrone will make me work all night if I don't meet his target.

Her words perked the man up and his shoulders relaxed. Soon, he was standing to attention enough for her to roll a condom onto him. A small mercy, not just because she wouldn't have to risk catching something from sordid strangers but because she wouldn't have to provide her own lubrication. She quickly straddled him and sat on his cock, wasting no time on foreplay. This had to happen quickly.

Well jeez, for two bucks, what does he expect?

He sighed as his prick slid inside her and she bounced on it as hard as she could to keep things moving. The front of the car began to squeak and rock but there was no one else in the alley to witness the scene.

Just a role in a movie...he's just an actor...I'm going to win an Oscar for this...

"Oh yeah, baby! Stuff my fucking cunt! That feels so good!" Stephanie kept the dirty talk going as she humped him wildly, hoping she could see her first john off quickly and not have to think about it for long. The touch of his hands gripping her ass as she fucked him was a good sign, his fingers digging into her soft flesh. She pulled her top open, shoving her breasts in his face. Another smart tactic.

It seemed to work. The man's face went from grin to grimace in a couple of minutes and he pulled her closer into him. She felt his cock twitch and his gasps suggested he was shooting his load into the rubber.

Thank fuck for that.

As soon as the man lay back in his seat, Stephanie hopped off and grabbed her shorts, opening the door so she could kick her legs out and give her more room to put them back on.

"Thanks!" the man said, pulling the condom off carefully. "That was nuts. You really know how to get a guy off."

"Yeah, don't mention it."

"What, no small talk?"

"Look, you got what you wanted. Can I go now?"

He paused for a second, pulling his pants up and checking the rearview to make sure they were alone. "Sure, bitch. Enjoy your coke habit." Stephanie suddenly felt a hand on her back and saw the ground coming towards her. She fell to the concrete paving, her shorts still tangled around her knees as the door slammed behind her and the car squealed off onto the street. Her purse flew out of the window before the vehicle disappeared forever, leaving her belongings strewn across the alley.

She was relieved to find she wasn't hurt. The only damage was to her pride as she quickly pulled the booty shorts up before having to scramble around in the gutter to retrieve her belongings. She found the sad dollar bills and opened them out.

All that just for this...

Stephanie sighed, put the money back in her purse and dusted herself off. One down, fourteen to go. She sent a text to Tyrone, the only number in the cell phone, to tell him just that.

She had barely been back on the main street when another car's headlights washed over her and the wheels slowed to a stop a few paces ahead. She decided it was better if she just smiled and kept her attitude in check this time. The last guy had been an average creep but in a place like this, he was probably one of the nicer ones. She sauntered to the window and leaned in, bending at the waist to show off her toned legs in case they needed a little more encouragement.

"Hey, sugar. Feeling lonely?"

The man behind the wheel was Hispanic, with a moustache and thinning hair. His eyes widened as he saw how unexpectedly pretty the girl was and immediately reached over to open the door. Stephanie climbed in and they began to drive, her heart racing even more than the last time. She had no idea who he was or where she was going and she knew she'd feel this same anxiety every time she got into a car.

"So, where are we going?"

"Motel a few blocks down," he replied in a heavy accent.

"Ok, sure. What do you wanna do?"

"Depends. How much?"

"Two dollars a time."

The car almost skidded to a halt and the man looked at her with the same stunned and wary look that the last guy had shown. This was never going to be easy to explain.

"Are you fucking with me?!"

"No, sir," Stephanie instantly jumped on the defensive, realizing she would need to be as polite and friendly as possible in case the guy thought she was mocking him. "Honestly, it's just two bucks. Any hole you like, any kink you have. I'm...I'm on discount."

He drove a while longer without saying anything and Stephanie hoped he wouldn't push her out of the car while it was moving. The neon lights of the motel blinked up ahead and a rundown sign announced there were vacancies available. She waited in the lot while he spoke with the receptionist and he came back not long after with a key to one of the dank rooms. Inside, the peeling walls and aged furniture were worse than she had expected.

The man put the latch on the door and then pulled out his wallet. Carefully, he pulled out six crisp dollar notes and waved them in the air with a smile. By the pleasure on his face, she knew what he was after without even having to ask. She watched him feed the slot by the rickety bed a handful of quarters, making the bed begin to vibrate, before sitting down on it and winking at her. The greedy pervert then stuffed two of the bills down the front of his pants.

"First two dollars. You want it, bitch? Come get it."

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She earned her money that night. Sucking and riding him hard and letting him take her in all three of her holes, even letting him discard the condom when he was close so he could finish himself off over her face. The man enjoyed his time immensely and he promised to come back to see her again soon. He just couldn't believe he had been given the best sex of his life for next to nothing.

And he wasn't the last. Stephanie's first night on the job saw her go through no less than a dozen men. Some of the men who scouted her fled when they heard the low price, thinking they were being stung. But the ones that took the risk had their dreams fulfilled. She went down on them in their cars, in alleyways, in dilapidated bedrooms and in the same squalid motel. She fucked them like a true professional, moaning in all the right places as they railed her in backseats, against walls and on rusty beds. She let them use all of her holes without complaint until each one was sore and swollen and reeking of rubber and lubrication. Her skin was clammy with sweat and the remnants of their seed. Worst of all was the feeling on the inside. The ever present and powerful feeling of degradation. She wondered, even if she were to one day escape her enslavement, how she would ever be able to move on. To live a normal life again. To ever think of herself as anything other than a whore.

By 3AM, her orifices felt loose and tender. She was exhausted but she had made the required amount and sent a message to request a pick up. When Tyrone came by, he snatched the money off her without a word. On the way back to the apartment, he told she would be allowed to shower and sleep as a reward for a job well done. First though, he said they had to eat. Stopping by a drive-thru restaurant, he ordered a large meal for them both, telling the intercom to serve up cheeseburgers, wings, fries and diet cokes. To Stephanie's horror, almost her entire earnings for the night landed in the hands of the cashier, replaced with greasy fast food. She told herself it was better than nothing. In fact, a warm meal, a shower and a rest would feel like heaven at that point.

As it turned out, Tyrone had a system. Stephanie was to spend alternating nights on the street and in his apartment, putting her talents to use as he saw fit. Compared to the draining ritual of having to pleasure a multitude of men, she preferred being at the 'crib', even though Tyrone was a bully and always seemed to be on the verge of violence, keeping his gun nearby at all times. When she stayed with him, she would be used as a plaything and a maid, not unlike her regular life with Madame Snyde. Yet Tyrone inspired a different sort of fear, one that was brutal and masculine. He enjoyed ordering her to debase herself for him and his friends and she wondered if even Snyde had bitten off more than she could chew by dealing with him. If they wanted to keep her as their own, what was to stop them?

Meanwhile, the relative freedom of the streets was still just as dangerous as it was the first night and the more time she spent on them, the more her soul seemed to disappear. Her valuable Caucasian body and beautiful features were gold dust in this neighborhood and finding men to pay her for sex was never difficult. Stephanie became an expert in giving back alley blowjobs, squatting in filthy passages and working her mouth on customer after lucky customer. She amused them with her willingness to please and they found they could make her do anything to see to that end. Private strip shows. Spit roasts. Foot jobs. Rimjobs. Stephanie was their go-to girl, whatever the kink. And all for just two George Washingtons. Unless of course they wanted to pay with nickels and dimes. That was fine too.

As word spread of her discount rates, more people showed up looking for her and several customers became regulars. All of them got to indulge in the delights of her own dark alleyways until the small hours of the morning when she would walk with a limp back to the corner and wait for Tyrone to swing by in his Cadillac. The other hookers hated her even more as she started eating into their business and she soon became a pariah within the working-girl community. While she didn't experience any real trouble with the men, more than once she was threatened with a knife by another prostitute, sending her running back to the safety of her own patch.

It was one of those very nights when she was halfway through her shift that things took a different turn. A car pulled up on the curb and Stephanie sensed an easy catch. Strutting up to the window as usual, she peered inside and batted her heavy eyelids. "What's happening, tonight, babe? Looking for some fun?"