(I don’t normally write in first person, but it was needed here)
The day you learn your worth can make or break you. Some people will never keep you, but they will revisit as long as you allow it. There is a small group of people in this world that we call disposable. Today I learned I was one of the few that no one needed, but when 2 am came, they were wanted. I cried for a moment and then used it to my full advantage.
I laid back on the bed, reliving the night before. My hands still stained with blood, the longer I kept it, the tighter my skin felt. The proteins in the crimson nectar pulled my skin, cracking the flesh. My chest tightened as I remembered the event that led up to my discovery. It was supposed to be a typical night in the life of a little whore. Suck and fuck, and out the door. Little did I know, I would meet with someone so diabolical that he made Satan seem like a choir boy. He taught me a lesson tonight. I learned that life is not always precious to everyone. I squeezed my lids shut tight as I played back the reel in my mind.
“Nice to finally meet you,” he said.
I dressed in a little red dress, the slit in the side could reveal my panties, well, if I bothered to wear any. I’m a whore and a damn good one. I dress to make money, not friends. The moment you stop and wonder if you’re good enough, you already know you aren’t. Men don’t fall for what they keep behind locked doors, but they give them what their wives wish they could have. It was a lesson I was about to learn, and he would forever regret it.
“Nice to meet you as well. I hope you’re doing well tonight,” I replied.
He looked me up and down, showing his approval with a little tent in the front of his pants. I love it when I have their full attention. When I got the call to meet him at a hotel notorious for keeping their guest list quiet, I knew that tonight would be something that I would never forget. Little did I know, my self-respect stained that king-size bed. There was something about this man that sent blankets of shivers up and down my spine. It was if I knew him, but that face, I couldn’t place it. There was a familiar scent, and the sound of his voice sent a rush of pain up my spine—a pending dread in my eyes. I was sure he noted that the moment he smirked and suggested we go to his room. God, this is going to be bad. I knew it would be one of the worst nights of my life.
“I’ve paid for tonight and tomorrow, though you can leave before dawn. I can’t have you seen leaving my room by anyone. Fornicating with a common whore isn’t my style,” he said.
If you’ve ever felt the blade of a phantom knife, this was the moment I experienced shame on a new level. I am a whore that I know, but to have this pig call me one scalded me with a furious rage. Not one I could show, but inside of me, I ruined him in fifty different ways before we reached the door.
He was tall, slender, and has the features of a Hispanic male, but he spoke with eloquence and confidence. By far, this was not a run of the mill businessman. He was my nightmare, and for the first time, I could see his face.
A swipe of the keycard and we were inside. It wasn’t as lovely as the ones I usually stay in, but did it have to be? This place isn’t for my comfort. Did I honestly deserve happiness? A whore should take what she can and not make a scene. Just like an eleven-year-old girl whose father has decided she is his property. Many times I wonder if it would have been better just to have fucked Spencer and not ran. At least I would still have a family. Alone seems to be the place I do the best. Many days pass, and I wish I would have died on the cold bathroom floor. Sometimes I think about doing it again, but right this time. I am not doing it where someone can save me. Just eating a bullet and being done with it all. I wish I would have died when I had the chance.
“Take off your clothes and get on the bed. Spread your legs open wide and let me check that cunt. I like my pussy clean, not filled with leftovers from your last client,” he said.
My jaw dropped in shock, never has anyone said this to me. At five grand a night, I damn well know how to care for myself, plus this is the first appointment in months. My heart finds it hard to do this anymore. My husband is dead, but yet I keep feeling like a cheating whore each time I allow another man inside of what was his property. I hate him more with each passing day. He left me alone to fend for myself, and I am failing daily. That’s another reason I want to die. If I’m dead, I get to be with him again. I would give up the world to be with him one more time, but life didn’t work like that for me. God gave me a blessing and took it away. I hate him too. That God that everyone prays to nightly. Fuck him. I hate him.
“I’m not dirty, you know,” I whispered.
Undressing my clothing now on a chair by the door, I made sure to fold each thing before setting it down. For some stupid reason, I thought it would show him that I have some class inside of me. I didn’t care what he thought about me, but I do care what I think about myself.
Exhaling as I laid back on the bed, the next part the biggest humiliation of my life. The moment my legs spread, he pushed two fingers as deep as he could, not caring that it hurt. Tears rolling down the sides of my face, he yanked them back, examining his fingers to make sure there was no cum on them. Did he think so low of me that he assumed I would show up at his hotel with a pussy full from another man? For god sakes, the money was not worth it at this point. He pulled out a roll of duct tape from the drawer next to the bed, laughing. His chuckle like nails on a chalkboard, making me sick to my stomach. What the fuck was he going to do with the tape? He ripped off a 4-inch piece, placing it over my slit like a protective barrier. That was the moment I got the point. I don’t know if this was something I feared, or in a way, was I excited?
“Rollover on your stomach and lift your hips to place a pillow underneath,” he asked.
My fear level went up tenfold, but I did it. I rolled from back to front, tucking a crisp white hotel pillow under my pussy. The coolness of the fabric helped with the heat building inside of my core. Why was I excited about a man raking away at my dignity? It was a shame that I didn’t understand. I don’t think anyone who hasn’t experienced it would ever know why this sometimes happens to a woman. I pushed my face into the pillow, the moment I did, I knew the print of my red lipstick would stain the fabric. What would the housekeeper think in the morning when she changed the bedding and saw the perfect prints of supple lips? Why did I even care what some stranger thought about what I leave behind? Sadly, that was my biggest flaw. I worry about what others think.
“Close your eyes, and don’t open your mouth. One word, one cry, or even the slightest movement gets you punished,” he said. “Do you know who I am?” the man asked.
“No!” I said. I had thoughts about who he could have been, but I kept my thoughts to myself. I don’t like to look foolish, so that would be left unspoken for now.
“I’ve known your father for many years. We work together,” he said. “This isn’t the first time you’ve known me, and it won’t be the last. I can ruin your father with all I know about that family of yours,” he added.
That was the moment I realized who he was. I called him Uncle Robert, and he sat on the Supreme Court with my father. He’s known me since I was born, and now, I realized that scent. I would smell that when I woke in the mornings after one of my father’s drug sessions. At that moment, I cried. No, I sobbed. My tears could have broken a dam with their intensity, and I didn’t care that he told me this was not allowed. I cried because my innocence was ruined because of these men—horrible, misogynistic pigs.
I heard it before I felt it. He pulled up a glob of saliva, spitting it on my tiny asshole. He straddled me from behind, his legs resting on the outside of my thighs to push them together. Remember, access to my pussy was not wanted. Unzipping his pants, he didn’t bother to take them off. Tonight was not about pleasure, rather the mindfuck that one will never get over.
His cock lined up with my asshole, a glob of spit glistening from the head, I knew the moment he grabbed the back of my hair that life as I knew it was over. A single thrust broke through that tight pink rim, pushed to the point of no return. He didn’t stop until his balls touched the back of my thighs, a scream caught so deep inside of me that I felt as though I would blackout from the pain. I don’t care how much someone loves anal sex, that is never the way to do it if you care about the partner. A tight yank to my blond hair and his body jolted forward, repeating every crushing blow to my ass with a fury of hate that I never knew existed. My entire body screamed for mercy, but my mouth never opened. If they ever ask me the day I knew I was a whore, today was the day.
Gurgles, grunts, and groans came from behind me, this piece of shit pulling his dick back to the head, removing it, and forcing me to take the brunt repeatedly. After a while, it didn’t hurt anymore. It just didn’t feel like anything. His free hand slapped my ass until the skin raised with welts. Those I felt with a fury that I have never endured. Was he punishing me? Within minutes he was done, but I would never be the same. Not because of the blood that poured down my thighs, or even the disgust of being touched. It was because I remembered everything.
Left to clean up the mess, I broke. As Robert stood in the mirror with his back to me and adjusted his tie, all the filth finally came to light.
“Mary,” he called out over his shoulder, “Do you remember when you were young, and your father would allow all of us men to jack off all over your sleeping body?” He was making the confession that would change his life forever. “One night, after losing too much in a poker game, your father taped up your cunt and allowed me to fuck you in the ass while you slept. Don’t worry, Princess, he gave you more drugs that night than usual. You never felt a thing,” he laughed.
I sat on the edge of the bed, tears pouring down my cheeks, and my entire life flashed before my eyes. Without forethought, the letter opener on the nightstand became embedded in the back of this man’s neck, my small fist pulling back before once again plunging the knife into his back. Stab after stab. I didn’t stop until he was on the floor, his body staining the carpet like mine stained the bed. That was the day I realized my worth. I never wanted to be a whore. I just wanted the love of a family and became the target of a madman.
Blood drying on my skin, my eyes opened as I laid on my bed, I would never allow a man to steal my worth again. I was once a child name Mary Elizabeth, but now, I am vengeance. Don’t fuck with me.