My Pimp And Me

Chapter one

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   Dream stood on the desolate corner as the wind whipped through her hair. She looked left and then right down the street for a sign of human life. Her ride was late. She silently cursed herself for allowing herself to continue to let her boyfriend Supreme put her in these situations. It was not as if she had a choice.

Even if she had refused to do it, he would have beat her until she agreed to sell her pussy to the highest bidder. “Fuck,” she hissed as the rain started to come down. Placing a hand over her head, she used her free hand to fumble through her bag for her umbrella. Dream realized that she had no one to blame but herself.

She should have listened to her parents when they warned her that Supreme would not do anything but take her down a path of self-destruction. Within a month of moving out of her parents’ home, she had experienced her first ass whooping at the hands of Supreme. During that time, all she could think about was how she should not be there. She came from a good family. They were respected in the community.

Her father was a prominent heart surgeon who graduated magna cum laude from Johns Hopkins Medical School. He had received a Lister Award, one of the most prestigious honors a surgeon can receive, for his advancements in cardiothoracic surgery. Dream’s mother Pilar was a former dancer turned philanthropist. She enjoyed wining and dining millionaires out of their money. Dream grew up in a life of privilege. Her parents gave her the best of everything. She went to the best private schools. She did everything from ballet to playing the piano, so it always shocked her parents’ friends to learn that she ended up a teenage mother swinging from a pole, and having her body pimped out for money. Finally, a set of headlights blinded Dream as her date arrived.

The Good Doctor, as Supreme liked to call him, always paid for her services up front. He was a handsome middle-aged doctor. In fact, he was once a colleague of Dream’s father, which is why she was always the girl he requested. He got some sick satisfaction out of fucking Dr. Spencer Marchand over by fucking his only daughter. “Get in,” he demanded as he stared straight forward.

Dream slid into the expensive Mercedes with its custom Italian leather interior. She did not say a word. She was not there to speak. She had a service to perform, and after she would be dropped off on the same street corner she had been picked up from.

She would return to being a mother and girlfriend to her pimp of a boyfriend. The Good Doctor drove to their usual hotel and parked. Dream got out of the car without being told and headed to their usual room. The Good Doctor prepaid for everything, so they bypassed the check-in desk. Not a word was spoken until they reached the room. “Undress,” The Good Doctor said, but Dream had already started to do so. Her hands were shaking and becoming clammy. She always felt this way when she was in the room with the doctor. He made her feel less than human. He ravaged her body every time he invaded her space.

Standing in the middle of the room as naked as the day she was born, Dream felt out of place. Even though she had been doing this for a couple of years, she never was comfortable giving her body to strange men. She just did not like the alternative if she did not do it. Supreme would beat her or worse, make her sleep outside like a dog, so it was just best if she went along with the program. “Get on your knees,” The Good Doctor instructed as he stepped in front of Dream, naked as well. He held his flaccid dick in his hands. Once Dream was in front of him, he slapped her in the face with it before forcing it into her mouth. Dream fought back the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks.