Absent

Fourteen

My shift ended and I headed back towards the changing took when a pair of hands gripped my hips and pulled me backwards.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the little tease." I knew that voice. It was the man from earlier. I simply smiled and pulled out of his grip, paying no attention.

"That is one thing to call me." I said to him and continued on my way. My only mistake was leaving the leash in the back. He grabbed it and held it, pulling in it slightly.

"I don't remember saying you could walk away." He growled.

"I don't remember you paying for my time." I shot back and turned to face him.

"So you want money so someone would take your horny ass home?" He tugged on the collar.

"That's the rule. You want the body, you got to pay." I said, blinking him.

"So how much to slam you?" He gave a vicious tank to the black leash, causing me to stumble into his arms. "Better be a good price."

"Depends on how well you perform." I ran hands up his chest and around his shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze.

"How about I show you, you damn teasing slut?"

I faked a smile at him. Little did I realize that he would only be the first of many. Every night. A different man. Different room. Same outfits.

Almost eight months. Then they got sick of me, and once again, I was back with Alex, still wearing my stage clothes. The next man was horrible. He was a walking manifestation of a ashtray. His voice was so thick and gravelly, it was hard to understand him.

His favorite thing to say was "Do you not understand the English language?" I hated that man. Thankfully, I was for nothing more than show. Nothing more than a lap trinket or a servant.

This also meant that unless I was answering him, I was to make not even a sound in his presence.

"Dearie." He called. That is was he told me my name was. I do not know why, only that he did and questioning got me hurt.

I approached, head ducked, hands behind me.

"Yes, master?" I asked. Next thing I knew, I was hit across the face and sent to to ground. I didn't get up, just laid there, hand on my cheek, hoping to hide the tears.

His boot connected with my hip, kicking me harshly into my back. I kept my eyes averted, trying my hard to stifle my cried as he kicked me a few more times, right in the ribs. Soon, there was a crack, and it hurt to breath, hurt to move, but I still held my tongue. His last kick was aimed at my head and made my head throb painfully and ears ring.

"I didn't tell you to speak." He snarled and moved off. "Now get up and get me a damn sandwich." He flipped down on his chair and lit a cigarette.

Painfully, I managed to get to my feet, holding my left side, trying to take as small breaths as I could. The pain was unbearable. But he wouldn't care. Not even a little bit. In fact, I would dig myself a deeper hole by saying something.

Suffering through, I did my best to stay silent as I reached for things above my head, almost falling to the ground in pain, multiple times.

At last, after almost three times longer than normal, I got him His sandwich and delivered it to him, doing my best to keep my limp imperceptible.

"Dearie." He said again in that sickly sweet voice. This time I stayed silent as he continued on with his words. "Buddies of mine are coming over. So how about to go and make yourself presentable for once? I don't want to have introduce such an ugly whore to respectable men."

What made me hate this man so much was that his abuse was all physical. Until it wasn't, and then he voiced the thoughts in my head. His verbal abuse was worse than the physical.

I simply turned and moved away to the closest space he provided me. I pulled on the outfit reserved for company. Thankfully, it was just companionship he was looking for, so the clothes covered. The outfit I had on currently was a pair of jeans, with a long sleeved, black turtle-neck that rested on my hips.

Finally done, I moved to the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror.

A dark bruise was already spreading across my cheek, and I had a cut the other side of my head. I painstakingly lifted my shirt. I gasped at the sight. It was an ugly mess of blacks, blues, purples, and even yellow.

I dropped the hen and let it fall back to where it was before. No wonder it hurt so bad. It was ugly.

"They're here!" He snarled at me from the front room. "Get out here and open the damn door."

Same routine. Open the door, let them all pass through, head down, then walk in and kneel beside him, unless instructed to do other wise. Then, they would have me order them food and set up their table for card playing, pouring them their alcohol. Through it all, they always progressively more handsy. All except my owner. He only got more abusive.

I came to the door as fast as I could, hiding my pain under a mask nearly a year of horrors had forged.

I waited just until the first reached to knock before I opened the door, moving out of the way.

"Damn." One said, then called out louder. "This little servant of yours is so obedient! You scored." I made not even a sound to show that I heard, just kept looking at my feet.

"Yes. I know. It is taking quite well. Only had it, what, a month?" The man called back. At last, the last man entered and I set about the other duties. Thankfully, he seemed content to leave me kneeling on the floor until it was time for my set up the rest of night.

Four hours passed. I had been knocked around constantly for almost an hour now.

They were in the middle of a round of cards when one of the men, a little more sober than his buddies, spokes up.

"Yeah, Ash." How fitting. The ashtray is named Ash. "Do you ever show the thing a good time? I heard you were pleasing." I said a little more sober. He was still wasted.

"Ha! No way am I going to fuck it. I got it as a cast out from a Stripper club. Thing had been dressing as a female for months." Ash laughed as though the though of sleeping with me was the funniest thing he had ever heard.

"Well, could I? I heard men are so fun to fuck, and Miriah has been extremely displeasing as of late."

"Go ahead." He waved a hand, not even batting an eye. "Be as rough as you please. He is simply there to please you. That is all he is good for. Oh, the Stripper Club said he was good with his mouth." He advised. I snapped up to stare at Ash. How on earth did this fucking drunkard remember that? Thankfully I couldn't dwell to long on that before the other man stood and walked over, ordering me to the bedroom, grabbing my arm and marching me when my steps were too slow for him.

"Get in there, you fucktoy." He snarled, pushing my into the room, then slamming me against the wall. My side was in agony and I was whimpering pathetically.

"Get ready for the night of your life."

~°~
Yah! Update! More smut next chapter probably.

Okay. All readers. Please, tell me. Would you like a second book? If so, something big will have to happen.

Oh, and stay sexy.
-Scomiche❤🍓❤