The overhead light flickered on, and I finally got a proper look at myself. My hair was slightly long, so I didn’t exactly need a wig, and my makeup made me look more disheveled than put-together. I was sixteen, but it didn’t feel like that to me. I felt weighed down and sullen, but I guess that was to be expected, given the life I led.
I fidgeted with the dress one more time – because the damn thing was itchy and uncomfortable – and when that did nothing, I sighed and decided to give up. I walked out of the bathroom and entered my disorganized bedroom, then looked up at theGreenDayposter on the wall next to my bed. It’s the only thing I had in my room as a “décor”. Everything else in there was bland, impersonal.
It was after 11, so the street outside was eerily quiet. There was not a single light to be seen – neither from a house, nor from the streetlamps. One of the many norms of living in the suburb, I guess.
With one last glance at the window, I swallowed and headed out of my room.
The only reason I was able to walk straight was because it’d been a couple of weeks since I’d had a client. Usually, I could barely stand the first few days after one of these encounters, and it’d take me just as long, if not more, to be able to sit without screaming in pain, let alone take a shit without bawling my eyes out.
My bare feet pressed against the wooden stairs as I made my way down to the living room. I could smell cologne in the air, which meant that Marco had arrived already.
I stopped at the end of the stairway, and my heart hammered so fucking strongly against my chest when I saw my client.
Marco looked to be in his late forties. He was on the shorter side, and wore a lose grey shirt with black, ill-fitted trousers. With a head full of slicked-back blond-and-grey hair, a face marred with fine lines, and the little beer belly he was sporting, he seemed like a suburban broker or something. Mom, of course, hadn’t given me any details regarding him or his profession, but shehadmentioned that he was willing to pay a shit ton of money for me, so maybe I was right in my assumption. But who knows. These tedious tidbits wouldn’t get me out of this situation, and neither would Marco – who was grinning at me as I walked further into the living room.
There was no escaping this; there was only enduring.
“Ah,thereyou are!” Mom all but sang when she saw me. She had an awfully theatrical smile on her face – one I’ve seen her use in the presence of every man that visited us. One that made my skin crawl in fucking disgust.
She’d glammed up for this, too. Her curly hair was tamed into a too-tight hairdo, and her face was packed with makeup. She was wearing a black-and-white sheath dress that did everything to complement her tall, lithe figure, but nothing against that cruel heart of hers – beating somewhere behind the confines of the dress’s fabric. I sometimes wondered if she even had the organ inside her, or if she’d given it away in exchange for a few bucks.
I ignored her comment and kept my gaze downwards. When I was close enough to her, she roughly lifted my chin, gave me a quick, scrutinizing once-over, then grabbed my arm in a painful grip and all but shoved me toward Marco.
I stumbled a little – mostly because I wasn’t expecting her to do that – and stiffened when Marco placed his hands on my shoulders in order to prevent my fall.
“Now, now, Delilah,” he crooned at my mom in a smooth, almost velvet-like voice. “Be careful with my toy, will you? I hate it when they’re rattled.” He gave me a smile, and his eager eyes seared into mine. “I prefer to have their complete attention, after all. It makes itsomuch more pleasurable to fuck their wholeness out of them.”
Ice rushed up my spine at his words. I was trying to keep my breathing in check, but I was fucking failing at it.
Marco took a step towards me, and every instinct in me was screaming at me to move back; to run away. But I couldn’t. I simply couldn’t.
He was slightly shorter than me, so he had to look up when he addressed me.
He brought a hand up and dragged a thick finger over my jaw, making me grimace a little.
“Aren’t you a pretty little thing…” he mused, then leaned in before bringing his nose to the side of my neck. He inhaled deeply, and my body jerked in response to it.
He chuckled. “See? You’re rattled – exactly like I’d predicted.” He shifted, and his nose touched my cheek.
Goosebumps rose throughout my body, but I didn’t dare move; didn’t dare make a sound.
He inhaled again, and again, and then groaned as if in ecstasy. “Exquisite,” he hissed against me, right before parting his lips and licking a slow line up to the right side of my face.
I wanted to gag, but instead, I just stood there and let him do what he wanted to. Why? Because I was helpless.
Marco grabbed my waist and pulled me to him. “You are delicious, toy,” he said with a manic grin, and pressed a sloppy kiss on my mouth. He then pushed his hard-on against my stomach, and I imagined it mustn’t take much for him to get a boner, given how he’d barely spent five minutes with me.
When I finally decided to lock eyes with his, he fisted the back of my hair and pulled my head back.
“You want my cock, don’t you, toy?” he asked.
I swallowed, and my eyes stung as I lied by saying, “I do.”
Marco’s expression sharpened all of a sudden. He scowled at me, then slapped me with his free hand – hard enough that my head began to swim a little.
“Master,” he spat, and slapped me again. “Call me your fuckingmaster, you cunt.”
I could feel tears on my cheeks. I don’t know how they’d escaped, but they somehow had. Maybe it was because of how much my face hurt from his brief assault, or maybe it was because I felt sorry for myself. Either way, I had to make sure neither Mom nor Marco saw them.
