THE STARLET SLAVE 11
joypaine
11. Getting Ready
When that damned thing was secure in my asshole, Rosie marched me back to the
office, where Peck took the other Persuader out of my cunt. Apparently, there
was some trick to it, because he got it out without having it shock me even the
least bit. And then, of course, he had to "test my response" to the shocker in
my ass. (He couldn't pass up an opportunity like that.) Believe me, it hurt
just as much as the other one had. And of course he pinched my tits a couple of
times. That bastard wouldn't have been able to keep his hands off a pair of
naked tits, even if the building had been on fire. Especially a pair like mine.
Then he made me pose in a lot of pornographic positions, while he took pictures
("for your portfolio", he said). His last pose had me sitting on the sofa with
my legs drawn up underneath me, a lascivious smile on my face, and my hands
cupping my tits, as if I were offering them to my viewers.
"That's the stuff," Peck enthused. "Just make sure that you give your brightest
and most convincing smile. That's the way you're going to greet all your
customers."
My heart sank. "Customers", in a pose like that could mean only one thing -- he
was going to peddle my ass. (Paddle it too, no doubt.) I should have known from
the beginning that this set-up was too elaborate just to get himself a quick
lay. But that's the way Peck operated, I learned -- push a girl step by step
into the depths of depravity, without giving her any hint of where she was
headed, so that each outrage had the full force of novelty.
And just to make sure that I got the picture, Peck laid it out in detail.
"Baby," he told me, "that cunt of yours is going to make us rich. Well, me,
anyway. Your profit will come as the richness of experience.
"Your friends here have done pretty well, but a bod like yours will draw the
boys like flies. Just as soon as the word gets around.
"So let's start spreading the word, before you lose any momentum.
"Sheila," he turned to one of the other girls. "Ferdy is a special friend of
yours. Suppose you go over to the garage and tell him that little Ellen is
ready for him."
Sheila made a little face of disgust, a gesture that was not lost on Peck. "And
remember," he taunted her, "it's Ellen that he's paying for this time, not you.
If he wants to feel you up, that's OK. But make sure that he keeps his pecker
in his pants -- or out of yours, anyway." He laughed uproariously at his own
joke. "I don't want you beating Ellen's time, no matter how much you care for
the big lug."
He was kidding, of course. Nobody cared for Ferd the Nerd, as we called him.
Behind his back, of course -- you didn't insult Ferdy to his face.
Pimply face, dirty hands, dirty talk -- Ferd the Nerd was the guy every girl
dreams of having a love affair with -- in her worst nightmares, that is. He was
the kind of guy that you didn't notice his bad breath so much, because of his
B.O.
And whatever he lacked in brains, he made up for with meanness and brute
strength. He used to brag about how he once crushed a puppy's rib cage with one
hand, and then left the poor creature whimpering while it died in pain. Nice
guy!
Peck knew how I hated Ferdy, of course. Shit, everybody hated Ferdy.
"It's very important," Peck pontificated,"for your first few dates to be with
people you wouldn't dream of putting out for willingly. Except for me, of
course," he grinned.
"That way, we can get your feet wet fast, as the saying goes. If you only had
Johns that you like, you could maybe persuade yourself that you were doing it
for `love', but if we start out with the bottom of the barrel, you'll have it
driven home to you that you're doing it for money -- never mind that the money
will be coming to me instead of to you -- and that you're going to be fucked by
any and every customer that I send you, whether you like him or not.
"And you'll do it any way he wants, and as many times as he wants," Peck
concluded. "Or she wants," he grinned as an afterthought. "After all, this is
the age of equal rights."
Bottom of the barrel, eh? Well, that certainly described Fed the Nerd to a T.
"But I had some other reasons for choosing Ferdy for your first trick," Peck
went on. "Reasons intimately related to your career development.
"In the first place," he ticked off on his fingers, "Ferdy agreed to let us
take pictures of him screwing you, just so long as I give him copies that he
can show around to his friends -- some of whom are also your friends, of
course. And, besides the advertising uses we can put them to, action pictures
of a broad that's built like you are money in the bank.
"And the second reason is that Ferdy is the kind of guy that kisses and tells,
as they used so delicately to put it. Nobody can get the word around town that
you're available as fast as Ferdy will. And people will figure that anybody
that would fuck for Ferdy will take anyone on. And they'll be right, of course.
"And there's no advertising quite so effective as the word of a satisfied
customer."
I couldn't take it any longer. "I may not be able to keep him from raping me,"
I groused, "but I'll be damned if I'll do anything to satisfy him."
Peck replied with a little session from the Persuader. When I had stopped
screaming, he went on matter-of-factly, as if nothing had happened. "I think
that it might be more accurate to say that you'll be damned if you don't
satisfy him", he chuckled. "Ferdy can be pretty mean if he thinks that his girl
friend of the moment is doing less than her very best. Or if he decides that
her best isn't good enough for him. And we don't want him leaving any marks on
you that you won't be able to explain to your mother, do we?
"And of course I'll be keeping a fatherly eye on you, and will give you a
little shot of the Persuader whenever I get the feeling that your enthusiasm is
waning.
"And one more thing. I always ask my girls' clients to grade their performance
afterwards. A, B, C, D, or F -- just like in school. If you get an A, you have
nothing to worry about. Anything less puts you in line for a course in remedial
motivation. Where the stimulus is applied depends on your grade. If you get a
B, I burn your butt. For a C, I clobber your cunt. If you get a D, I dust off
your ding dongs. And if you should be so injudicious as to get an F we take
serious steps to see that it doesn't happen again. Rather effective steps, too,
aren't they, Rosie?"
The look Rosie gave him was pure hate, mixed with remembered panic.
"Rosie has been a straight A girl ever since our little session," Peck
chortled. "We also have an incentive program, whereby the girl with the lowest
average grade gets assigned to our special rate customers -- unless, of course,
the customer pays an extra premium for the privilege of selecting a specific
victim -- I mean, lover. After all, the customer is always right -- if he pays
enough."
The bell in the outer office interrupted Peck's monologue, announcing that
someone had come into the store. "I expect that'll be Sheila, with your ardent
lover," Peck observed. "Let's see you sit up on the couch, and give him the
greeting that we taught you. And see that Ol' Ferdy gets his money's worth.
"And one more thing," he added coarsely. "Always remember, in this business,
the customer comes first." He laughed uproariously. "Not that you'll be
bothered by little annoyances like premature orgasms with a customer like
friend Ferdy. Or any kind of orgasm at all, for that matter."
