I reached for the pipe again just as Blade came in. Blade was a creepy fucker and the President of the Black Jacks. He was the man who had kidnapped me. The asshole who shot me up with heroin and let five guys fuck every hole I had while he watched, stroking his cock. That was his thing. Watching. He was always watching, brown eyes nearly black always on me while I got fucked every which way possible. He wanted me just as much as he hated me. I could see it in his eyes, but for some reason his was the one cock that hadn’t been anywhere near me.
Yet.
It was only a matter of time, I knew that.
A hard smack on my ass startled me out of my thoughts, but I was too high to do anything but turn over and look at Roadkill. “Come ride my cock, bitch.”
I nodded and climbed on top of him, my movements clumsy as I straddled his hips and used the jizz still coating my pussy to slid down his long, thick dick. I bounced on his cock like the dutiful whore I was, stoned out of my mind and moving like a machine. Up and down, swirl. Up and down, swirl. I didn’t think Roadkill ever really enjoyed sex. He just got off on the degradation and the busting a nut part, but I never saw pleasure in his gaze. Ever.
He slapped my face. Hard. “Fuck like you mean it, bitch or else.”
I knew what or else meant. I’d been difficult and defiant in those early weeks, taking beating after beating, sometimes until I couldn’t stand. Getting ass fucked by a train of thugs with my ribs bruised and screaming from pain was something I never wanted to do again. I learned my lesson really fucking fast.
“Oh yeah,” I said, moaning as I tried to remember what a really great fuck with a really great guy was like. “That feels good,” I lied with my eyes closed as if I was lost in passion instead of disgusted at looking at his creepy face.
I bounced and rocked on his cock, doing my best impression of a porn star because that was what he wanted, what he needed to get off again.
He gripped my hips tight enough to bruise, thrusting up each time I fell onto his cock.
“Oh fuck, yes!” I said each time. He grabbed my hair and pulled me down so we were chest to chest. He crooked an elbow around my neck so I couldn’t move while he fucked me from the bottom, choking me as he thrust harder and deeper. Finally, his cock shot hot spurts of come into my body while Blade watched and stroked his monster cock, his dark gaze never leaving mine.
I was never quite sure if they set it up this way, but Roadkill’s visits to my hotel room always coincided with Blade’s.
I didn’t care anymore. I stared back at him, my mind blank while he stroked his cock faster and faster, until a white stream shot into the air, arcing before it landed on the carpet. His face twisted in dark pleasure, but his gaze never left mine. “Fuck,” he growled so low I barely heard over Roadkill’s loud exclamations of release.
“Good job, bitch. I think I’m fal-l-l-l-ing in love with my little who-o-o-re.” He sang-song.
Gross.
Roadkill shoved me away and stood beside the bed. “Suck me clean so we can get the fuck outta here and I’ll make it worth your while.” His grin was dark and hateful, but I knew what I’d get for sucking him clean so I crawled across the bed on all fours and licked his cock until it gleamed. He tossed a second bag on the bed. “See you soon, baby. Keep that cunt wet for me.”
Not too soon, I hope. They were both gone before the thought was complete and as soon as they were, I ran to the bathroom and rinsed my mouth out. I wanted to shower, but the high felt so good I didn’t want to sober up.
I took the little baggie he gave me and readied another hit. Watching myself in the long bathroom mirror, I inhaled. I used to be so beautiful. Now, I was nothing but a junkie whore. Yes, a fucking junkie. They did this to me.
I hated that sometimes when I was high, I liked getting fucked. I took another hit and warmth flooded my body. Euphoria.
Roadkill was nasty as fuck, but when I got high, I didn’t care. And Blade, with his cock in his hand all the time? I bet he’d fuck me good if I acted right. My pussy clenched with need, and I didn’t know if it was the drugs or my filthy thoughts. Nor did I care.