Marcy in heat

CHAPTER TEN

She roamed the streets for two days. Sex wasn't on her mind at all now… food and a bed were. She managed to get a few handouts from strolling prostitutes who thought she was one of them and just down on her luck. One of them even offered to let her sleep on her couch as soon as her last customer left for the night.

Marcy thanked her the next morning and left, after first turning down an offer for some sex from her pimp, and then an offer to go to work for him.

"Hooking's an easy life, honey," Daisy, the prostitute, said. "How else could you make a livin' layin' down?" She threw back her head and laughed uproariously.

Marcy laughed along with her, but declined anyway.

By the time Marcy met the two young drug dealers she was on her last legs.

"Hey, honey… you need a boost bad," said one.

"Yeah, baby… you want to crash up in our pad?" his girl friend asked.

Marcy went with them to a small two-bedroom apartment. There were nine people in all, not including herself, who shared the apartment. Her first night there, she was awakened three times by two boys and a girl. All three of them were stoned to the eyeballs and wanted to know if she wanted some sex.

Marcy declined in all three cases and they all rolled away to another body without giving her any hassle or argument.

For the next two days in the pad she went out and looked for work, any kind of work. She found nothing. The third day the boy who owned the apartment told her she could earn some quick bread by scoring a "coke" delivery for him.

Just the idea of drugs, let alone selling or delivering them, scared her to death.

She declined.

He seemed disgruntled and mumbled a lot when he walked away from her, but nothing more was said that afternoon.

That evening, he approached her again. "Listen, honey… everybody pays his way around here, and you're no different. Here's an address. His name is Ike. Show him a good time or don't come back."

It was nearly dark when she left the apartment. She crumpled the piece of paper and dropped it in the gutter. She walked for hours. It was past midnight when a hand fell on her shoulder.

"Let's go, honey."

She turned to see a policeman. "What's wrong? I haven't done anything."

"I know, honey," he said, his smile almost friendly, "I guess you just didn't get the word. I thought all you girls heard about the city-wide clean-up tonight. Jesus, can't you chicks go just one night off? C'mon, let's go."

And then Marcy understood.

"But you don't understand," she said. "I'm not what you think I am."

"Sure you aren't… c'mon."

Marcy did thirty days. During the first ten she was miserable, and even thought about calling her parents to come and get her, or telling the police that she was a runaway. At least that way she would be placed in a home rather than a cell. But she did neither one. She was afraid her parents would be contacted, and that was the last thing she wanted to happen; she would then have to admit defeat.

She got out and was on the street two days when she ran into Daisy again.

"Jesus, kid, you look like shit. C'mon, I'll buy you a bowl of soup."

They went into a restaurant and Marcy laid into a bowl of soup, a sandwich, and two glasses of milk.

"Damn, kid," Daisy said, watching her wolf the food down, "when was the last time you ate?"

"Yesterday," Marcy replied.

"Why don't you wise up?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well shit, kid, turn a trick now and then. You don't gotta go into it full time… but, hell, you gotta eat."

"I like sex too much," Marcy said.

"Sheeitt," Daisy said, laughing so loud that everyone in the place turned to look at them. "You ain't never gonna have no good sex on an empty stomach… take it from a momma that knows. Besides, honey, when was the last time you had any that you enjoyed?"

Marcy thought. And when she realized what the answer was, she started to cry.

"Hey… take it easy. Look, here's the key to my pad. Go up there and get yourself cleaned up. And take one of my dresses… if you can squeeze those tits of yours into it. But that's it, you hear? I ain't no Salvation Army."

What Daisy had said suddenly made acme. Marcy went up to the apartment and did everything the woman had suggested. An hour later she was back on the street.

He was young, very good-looking, and appeared to be a businessman type. She met him in a bar that Daisy said was a good pick-up place, and safe as long as the girl made sure she dropped at least a five on the bartender.

He acted shy, even embarrassed. "You… you don't have one of those guys hanging around, do you?"

"You mean a pimp?" Marcy asked.

"Yeah… I'm always afraid of getting mugged, you know?"

"No," Marcy said, suddenly liking him, and thinking that hooking with a trick like him wouldn't be half-bad.

"A… I a, always hate to ask," he stammered, "but I know we have to get it out of the way… a, how much?"

Marcy bit her lip. "It's usually a hundred, but… well, you give me what you think I'm worth… okay?"

"That's more than fair," he said. "I've got a hotel room. Let's go."

His name was Phil and he seemed sweet, warm and kind. Everything changed, however, when they got into the hotel room behind a locked door, with their clothes off.

"Lean over!" he said.

"What?"

"Lean over and touch your toes."

She did as he asked.

With his open hand he hit her with all his might across the buttocks. A red welt appeared on her flesh where he had made contact.

"Now lean over the back of the sofa," he said.

She complied as he soaked a bar towel at the tap. Quickly he wrung it out and crossed the room to her, flipping the towel into a hard roll as he moved. About three feet from her bare, upended body, he stopped. Her eyes followed him, and her mouth matched his in a strange suggestion of a smile.

He flicked the towel toward her. Just before it touched her skin, he yanked his wrist hard. The cloth responded with a loud crack, and a three-inch line of red jumped to life on one of her asscheeks.

"No!" she said through clenched teeth. "No!" she cried as he flicked the towel again and again.

"Scream, you bitch, scream!" He pounded her with a fury until the skin finally gave up and began opening.

Then she screamed, again and again.

"Jesus… stop it! You're crazy!"

"You're a whore, dammit! You get paid to give me what! And this is what I want… so shut up and enjoy it or I'll make it worse!" He kept at it until her whole body was a man of red and his own body dripped with sweat.

"Now roll over," he commanded.

She rolled over to the seat of the couch, lifting and spreading her legs as she did so. She screwed again when the ripped skin of her back and buttock touched the hard leather of the couch.

Grasping her ankles, one in each of his hands, he lifted her quivering body high into the air. With one tremendous effort he thrust his cock borne into her moist cunt.

Screams and incoherent babble came from her throat as every fiber of her body strove to bring him to the ultimate.

At last, with the blood pounding in his temples and a fire burning in his loins, he came. His body convulsed again and again in rhythm with hen until he let go of her ankles and dropped across her, panting.

She hadn't wanted it to, but his cock had aroused her. It was strange, but somehow the pain had also aroused her. She smiled at the ceiling, letting his relaxed body settle down on her own. She used his weight, combined with her own, to rub her raw back against the couch until the raw passion of pain again flooded through her body. Slowly she began moving again, lifting and grinding her hips into his until she felt him stir. The more she moved, the more her own salty perspiration found its way into her wounds to inflame her.

When she felt his prick throbbing back to life, she dug her fingernails deeply into his ass and raked as far as she could up his back. Instantly his body responded, and his hips began pounding in unison with hers as his cock found her cunt.

"We're good, ain't we," she sighed, her lips close to his ear. "We're really good. Do it to me… make me hurt good… fuck me hard! You're just like me. We're both just animals."

And in her mind: I hate… I hate… I hate it… I hate him… I hate me… fuck, fuck, fuck!

She pounded her ass up to him, nearly throwing him off of her as she came and felt him come.

Without a word he rose and wiped off his cock. He then dressed and left, without even looking back at Marcy, who still lay on the couch.

He had been gone nearly ten minutes when it hit her… the son-of-a-bitch never paid!

The second time she tried a different tack. She borrowed some money from Daisy and bought a skirt and sweater that made her look like a scrubbed teen-ager.

She then took a bus out to the university and started to walk. It didn't take long. A car pulled alongside her.

"Excuse me," the deep, mature voice called out. "I'm looking for a friend. Maybe you've seen her."

He was an older man, rather distinguished looking, with graying temples. His manner and appearance helped her to feel at ease. There was nothing about him to indicate that he was at all anxious.

"What does she look like? Maybe I've seen her." Marcy answered with a smile. He returned her smile and motioned for her to come closer.

"Maybe you're the one," he said. "Why don't you get in and we can discuss it."

They drove right to his home, which made Marcy feel better. When she mentioned the fifty dollars, he didn't even hesitate. He just flipped out his wallet and paid her.

"Would you like a drink first?" he asked.

"A, yeah… sure. Thanks."

He med two drinks and handed her one. "Let's sit here on the couch for a minute. I always like to watch a film first. Do you mind?"

"I guess not," Marcy said.

He pulled down a movie screen and rolled out a projector which was already threaded with film and ready to be turned on.

He flicked a switch and the worn was completely dark. "I love home movies. I make them myself because I can star in them."

Then she heard a switch turned on, and suddenly the screen lit up with his face. He was revealed entirely nude.

He began playing with his limp cock until it was somewhat erect, and then displayed it for the camera. Marcy felt movement beside her. He had removed his clothing and was rapidly masturbating.

"It's a nice cock, isn't it?" he said, grinning at her like a wild man. "Isn't it?"

She nodded.

"I really got a nice cock. You wanna touch it?"

"If you want me to," Marcy said tentatively.

"I don't cum," he said.

"Should I take my clothes off?" Marcy asked. "If you want to," he replied.

"I don't understand," she replied. "Do you want to fuck me with my clothes on?"

"Oh, I don't want to fuck you," he said. "I never do that. You're dirty. I wouldn't stick my beautiful cock inside you. No… no… no, I would never do that. I just masturbate and I want you to watch me. You'll like it. I'm beautiful. I come real good… you just watch. You're dirty."

And you're crazy, Marcy thought as she watched him go through wild pounding gyrations with his cock. Jesus, was there anybody in the world who wasn't a kook?

"I… a, have to go to the bathroom," she said. "Huh?"

"I… a, bathroom." She raised her voice, trying to get through to him.

"Yeah… sure, out there off the hall. But hurry… I want you to watch me come."

"Sure, sure…" she said, "you just hang on."

She slipped off the couch, found her purse and left.

That night she got a hotel room. She curled up in bed after a hot bath and turned on the television.

And there he was.

Bruce Moran was on a local talk show.

Her mind raced… he would give her a job, and he would give her the kicks and the sex she wanted.

He would be her salvation.

She got the television station on the phone and asked if the show she was watching was live.

It was.

She dressed quickly and took a cab to the station.

"I'm sorry, Miss," the guard said, "Mr. Moran says he doesn't know a Marcy Whalen."

"But he would if he saw me," Marcy begged. "Please, if you'll just…"

"I'm sorry, Miss Whalen, but… wait, wait, you can't go down there!"

Marcy had seen Bruce emerge from the studio.

"Don't jack it too fast," he said, bending his head to her ear and nibbling on the lobe. "I might shoot all over your dress."

"I'd like that," she said.

"You are some kind of cunt, Marcy. Where the fuck have you been? Ohhhhh, careful with the head, I'll came, sure as shit!"

"It feels so good," she sighed into his neck.

"It'll feel even better inside you," he said.

Her skin was on fire with anticipation as he pulled down the zipper on the back of her dress and slid it off her body. Her tits, the nipples hard and pink, danced in the light.

They had gone to his hotel room. He told her that he was only in town for one night, and that he was leaving the business. He told her that he had finally found what he was looking for.

She heard none of it. She could think only of him, his cock, the security he gave her just being there.

"What do you want?" she said.

"What?" he gasped, his hands caressing her billowing breasts.

"Tell me!" she said.

"I want you," he replied.

"No," she said, a tone of command coming into her voice. "Tell me what you want! Tell me what you want to do to me!"

"I… I want…" he stammered, his mind mesmerized by the fullness, the softness, the perfection of her naked body. "I want to suck your cunt. I want to slip my tongue inside it and suck the juices from it. I want to fuck you everywhere – between your tits, in your ass, in your cunt. I want to suck your tits. I want to do everything to you."

She smiled as she kissed him and fisted his cock again, feeling the long muscle fairly leap in her hand.

She liked what he said. It excited her and made her feel even more of the mature, free woman she wanted to be.

Together they sank to the bed, her hand instinctively closing tighter around the rigid shaft of his cock. Back and forth went her hand on his cock, sending even greater chills of excitement through his loins. He kneaded her ample breasts furiously and sucked first one nipple and then the other deep into his mouth.

He ran his fingers up and down the slit of her cunt, soaking his whole hand with her hot juices. Then without warning, he slipped a finger inside her, shoving it clear up to the last knuckle and grinding it.

She lifted her hips and molded her clitoris against the heel of his hand and urged him to put a second, even a third finger up her pulsating channel.

His manipulations sent her body into wild spasms. Suddenly her cries and moans of passion intensified. She urged his hand and fingers to greater and faster efforts. Her eyes seemed to roll backward in their sockets as her head flailed back and forth, the black mane of her hair swirling around both their heads and shoulder.

Her hands sought and found the insides of her thighs. She raised and bent her legs until the wails of her cunt spread wide, sucking and pulling his fingers until they formed a fist buried to the last knuckle deeply inside her flaming, dripping cunt.

Furiously, her hips bucked upward, splitting her spread cunt with his thrusting fist, until, with a great sigh and a final wrench of her body, she came. Great streams of pussy juice flowed across his hand, over the insides of her thighs, and down the parted crack of her ass.

"More?" he said.

"One come is never enough for me," she said, "you know that. I still want your cock, Bruce. Jesus, more than ever I wanted it, all of it."

She had it made now. Everything was going to be all right. Bruce would take care of her.

"Do you always want my cock, Marcy?"

"Yes, oh yes."

"I'll take care of you, Marcy," he said. "But first, you must do something for me."

"Anything," she replied. "I'll do anything."

"Anything I tell you?"

"Yes."

"Then, get down on the floor, Marcy… that's it. You obey very well."

"What!"

"Obey. You obey me very well."

Her mind started swimming. Something was happening to her. She felt she was going around in a circle.

"Everything will always be all right as long as you obey, Marcy. Tomorrow we'll leave… we're going to live with my brother in a wonderful place, Marcy. You'll like it… and you'll like my brother. His name is… Jason."