Home > Fiction > Community Service

Community Service

April 11th, 2006

FictionIconSoft red curls teased along the crack of a tight sun kissed ass as sensual curves danced her across the room, a cup of coffee in each hand. She watched him fidget as he watched her walk and gave him that smoky ‘Come fuck me’ smile. They’d been screwing a month, to the night, and he still couldn’t sit still around her. Her mother always said she’d be a whore. Somehow, she missed the fact that Jezzie didn’t care.

Setting the mugs on the table beside the pseudo-stranger’s bed, she slid between the jersey knit sheets and snuggled close to Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome, a slutty smile teasing on her painted red lips. Gazing into his eyes, she whispered “Come on, sexy. Do me again.”

“Woman, you are insatiable. When are you gonna tell me your name? Mine’s Tr…”

She put her slender fingers, with those long blood red nails, over his mouth before he could finish. “What’ve our names got to do with sex?”

He knew if he pushed her too hard, she’d leave him with balls so blue he’d hump a whale just to get off. She’d done it before. And what it took to get her to that point changed with the meeting. A dangerous look would cloud those erotically blue eyes like lighting flashing just behind the pupils. It was the only warning you got that one more word would transform this Irish goddess into a pumpkin.

And damn if he wasn’t addicted. Long, thick, red hair, electric blue eyes and legs clear up to her throat. A chest you just couldn’t help but touch and that baby-bare pussy tasted as good as it looked. The kind of girl who could infect you with a glance. You’d fuck her if she were your sister. Who cared that she was at least twenty years younger than he was? The sex was good and it was free. And she wouldn’t tell a soul.

He knew he wasn’t the only one. She took home three, maybe four men a night, fucked their brains out, and when they were spent, sent them on their merry way. She always used protection – it was a requirement – and she never got paid for what she did. “Consider it… community service.” She said in that excitingly husky voice that was way too old for her. He wondered if any of them knew her name.

“Are we gonna fuck, or what? There’s one more after you tonight and I’ve got an early shift in the morning.”

“Sorry, baby, yeah. Let’s go.”

She shoved him onto his back and bit his ear lobe hard. Though the pain in his eyes told her how much it hurt, she knew by the rock hard rod between his legs that he loved it. Her pussy ached too bad to tease him any longer, so she sat down hard and fucked him till he came, then fucked him till she came, then laid back on the mattress beside him and fucked herself three more times, shoving her cum-slick fingers in his mouth and finally slinking off to the shower. He was asleep when she let herself out.

Bernice was seventeen when she gave birth to Jezebel. A gift from her stepfather, though she was the only one who knew it. Bern couldn’t bear to break her mama’s heart so she told her the daddy died in a car crash right after he found out. How Mama fawned over that baby. It made Bernice ill.

From the moment she was pregnant, she knew she was carrying a whore. Little slut bitch that would stop at nothing to get a man, or even a woman, between her legs. She could see it in the way the doctor looked at Jezzie when she was born. The way men stared at her when Bern took her for walks. And from the moment Jezebel could see past the end of her nose, she would scream relentlessly if Bernice put anything on her but a skirt to go out in.

Jezebel was beautiful. There was no doubting that. She looked just like Daddy Tray’s sister Birdie, though Mama didn’t live long enough to see it. All that damned smoking and fucking. Mama was the reason Bern carried a whore for nine months. And Daddy Tray added to the terror by making that baby a demon. A succubus. Bernice was sure of it.

But Jezebel was a good child. Never made much of a fuss and understood when she couldn’t get her own way. She liked to play outdoors and always did what her mama told her. Bernice never really had to raise her voice. Oh how the other mothers in the PTA envied her.

“That Jezebel’s just precious, Bernice. How on Earth did you get so lucky?”

“Jezzie’s always so good, Bern. Wish I could get Ally to listen like that.”

And all Bernice could think about was the day when Jezebel was four and Bern walked in on her fucking herself with a Barbie doll. She took the doll away, told Jezzie that was bad, and tried to put it from her mind. There was still hope. Perhaps she could teach her daughter how evil sex was. A week later, it was a hairbrush in her ass. And a little part of Bernice died that day.

Mama never told Jezebel about sex. She figured all there was to learn Jezzie would learn in school and from her friends. And what they didn’t teach her, she’d learn on her own. She was a bright child, always picking things up from the strangest places, and always told her mother everything. Her mother didn’t really shelter her, just refused to discuss what she was sure would be her only child’s downfall. And, oddly enough, though she was obsessed with things being in her nether regions, the girl was still technically a virgin at nineteen.

At least until that fateful night during her second year of college.

Jezebel was walking to her dorm from Billy’s football game, choosing to go home rather than celebrate. Going to the after game parties always left her feeling uncomfortable. Billy wanted to fuck and she wanted to as well, but she was scared that her appetite would frighten him. Even though she hadn’t ever had sex with a boy, Jezzie knew that her pussy was hungrier than most girls just from the talk in the locker rooms.

Less than a block from her dormitory, she saw someone approaching her. A tall man wearing a hat and overcoat. She couldn’t see his face and didn’t recognize his build, but smiled at him anyway as she veered to the right of the sidewalk to give him room. As he walked passed her, he grabbed her hair and yanked her backwards, crushing her to his chest. A glint of steel caught the light as it snapped to her slender throat and she whimpered huskily as she heard his lust filled groan in her ear.

“Silence. Nothing but perfect silence. Nod if you understand.”

Jezzie nodded incredulously as that familiar ache began to build between her legs.

“Do you have a roommate?”

Jezzie shook her head no.

“Do you ever play your stereo loud enough to drown your screams?”

Jezzie nodded and fought back the urge to tell this stranger that no one was in the dorm to hear her anyway. Everyone went to the game and they were all, no doubt, out celebrating the team’s victory. For the first time in ten years, The Lioncats were going to district.

“Good. Take me there.”

Jezzie led the way.

Once inside, the man threw her to the floor and yanked a piece of cloth around her eyes. He slipped another in her mouth, nearly tearing the corners of her perfect lips, and tied it under her hair. A loop of rope snatched her wrist up and it wasn’t long before the other was tied helplessly to the first. Then she heard her stereo blasting and it was all downhill from there.

He stood her up and untied her wrists and Jezzie moved to break away from him. Something cool and sharp and eerily seductive touched the side of her throat and she felt his warm breath on her ear.

“Do exactly as I say and you won’t get hurt. Okay. That’s a lie. You’ll get hurt no matter what you do. But maybe if you’re good you’ll survive.”

Jezebel pressed her back against his body trying get away from the knife. The ache between her legs was growing and all she could think was “Fuck me, you monster, or let me fuck myself.”

“Strip.” He commanded, his voice full of carnal longing.

Her hands flew to her throat and she unbuttoned her blouse, then slid it gently off her shoulders. She reached up slowly and grasped the man’s wrist, turning to face him in his arms. Then she began to dance as she dropped the shirt to the floor. Her nipples bulged against the white lace of her bra and she moaned softly feeling her juices dribbling from her bare pussy to her toned thighs.

As her hips rocked to the music, she reached back and unhooked the bra. She cocked her thigh forward and brushed it against the bulge in his pants, another moan slipping from behind the makeshift gag. The piece of lace fell to the floor, her large breasts springing free, and her hands quickly undid the three small buttons holding her skirt closed. Jezzie turned again, still dancing sensuously to the deafening music, and rubbed her ass against his cock.

Angrily, her attacker yanked her hands behind her and tied them to each other again. Throwing her to the floor, he removed his belt and began to beat her with it. Jezzie screamed into the gag with each lash of leather and with each lash, her pussy grew wetter.

He flipped her over and took the belt to her tits and she gasped for air, unable to scream any longer. She’d read of masochists before, but never imagined herself one. Now, as her pussy dripped into the puddle forming beneath her, she arched her back into the lash and tried to beg for more from behind the gag. Her attacker stopped long enough to reach behind her and untie her hands, only to retie them and attach them over her head to the bed frame. He then yanked her feet apart and tied them, widely spread, each to their own leg of her desk.

She heard her desk drawers open and close and wondered what he was looking for, till she felt it hitting her pussy. Her wooden ruler. Over and over he spanked her already aching cunt with the thin piece of wood and she realized his naked cock was bouncing on her leg, much harder than before. She pulled at her restraints, soft, inaudible whimpers coming from her throat now as she tried with everything in her to offer her slick hole to him. He ignored her movements and continued to beat her.

She felt something clip to each of her aching nipples and then tighten and she gasped at the sensation. Her body writhed with primal need and she whimpered piteously trying to beg him to take her finally. He went back to hitting her, only now with his bare hands. Sometimes slapping her face and tits and thighs, sometimes balling up his fists and punching her as hard as he could. She wondered what she could have done to make him so angry.

After what seemed like hours, he took the clamps off her nipples and began to swat them with the ruler. She screamed hoarsely into the gag, incredulous that her pussy was growing ever wetter. Another slap, and another, and suddenly she was cumming.

As if that was what he was waiting for, the man slammed his cock into her pussy and violently stole her virginity. He called her every vulgar name in the book, and slapped her face and her breasts, pounding her sore cunt and making it hurt ever worse. And she was cumming again. He untied an ankle, turned her over and ripped into her ass, claiming her virginity there as well. For a third time she came.

Finally, he was finished. He ripped his cock out of her ass and squirted his semen all over her back. When his breathing slowed and he regained his composure, he untied the other ankle.

“I’m going to free your hands. If you try to get up before I leave, I’ll kill you. Do you understand?”

She nodded. She felt his hands roughly remove the rope from her wrists. As soon as he let go, she snatched the gag from her mouth. “Do me again!”

He punched her in the back of the head and the lights went out.

She never reported the rape when she came to. She looked herself over to make sure there were no serious injuries and then went to the bathroom to shower. No one ever asked her what happened, and she wouldn’t have told them anyway. She never saw the man again and as far as she knew, no other girls were ever attacked on campus.

Now she roams from man to man giving them what they want hoping to find one who knows how to fulfill her needs. Knows how and wants to. They’ve never been able to keep up and all of them always want her to top them. And she knows all about BDSM, even tried a few Doms, but she’s never found anyone willing to take her with the violence the attacker in her dorm did.

And she supposes Tray’s taking it a bit far. She knows he’s her father and what he did to her mother. He doesn’t recognize her, though, and it’s just as well. Odd how he doesn’t notice the likeness to his own sister. Or maybe he does and that’s why he fucks her.

Glancing over to the “John” she’s with, she smiles that ‘Come fuck me’ smile as he rapes her with his eyes. “Let’s try something new, tonight, baby. What do you say?”

He growls that playful growl he thinks is oh so sexy and whispers, “What did you have in mind?”

She reaches into her purse and pulls out the ruler she carries around to remember that night. “How bout you spank me over your knee like a bad little girl? I think I’d like that.”

Categories: Fiction Tags:
Comments are closed.
%d bloggers like this: