Stories, Thoughts and Snippets
A 1st Date 1 A 1st Date 2 A 1st Date 3 A 1st Date 4
"The first time I had sex I was nine years old. Before that it just didn't work, they tried; they tried every day since they bought me when I was six. But I was just too small, and the man that bought me didn't want me damaged, at least not permanently, so he wouldn't let them force it. But he let them put things inside me, little by little they got bigger, until one day when I was nine he decided I was ready, and he auctioned off my virginity. It was still bad, and I bled for three days afterwards, but it didn't feel particularly terrible to me, I mean it hurt physically, yeah, but I'd been sucking dick and letting men, and sometimes women, put their fingers and tongues in me for almost three years at that point. I think most married middle-aged people are more virgin than I was at that point.""My god, I'm so sorry. That's horrid. I'm so sorry."
"Did you fuck me?" I asked him, not expecting a response, and not getting one, he just sat slack-jawed. "Then what are you sorry for?"
"I didn't mean it like that, I was just trying to be sympathetic."
"I know. Don't worry about it, it's my fucked up life, not yours. Besides that was a lot easier than the first time I had anal sex."
"Oh Christ, don't tell me, I don't want to know."
"Yes you do, deep down everyone wants to hear this shit. It fascinates people. Besides you said you wanted to get to know me. This is I, or at least my history."
"Christ."
"Are you religious?"
"No."
"Good. I fucking hate those bible thumpers, at least the perverts that fucked me were honest about what gets them off. Anyway the first time I had anal sex I was ten. Bob, the guy that owned me, auctioned that off too. It was kind of a big day in certain circles, there was a whole party built around it. It went for three thousand dollars. That was a lot of money, especially for someone like me; I was already considered used goods. I don't think it would have been so bad, I'd been practicing on my own because I was afraid after the first time, but the guy that bought me was huge, ten inches at least and thick. If he'd put that whole thing in me it would have killed me for sure, ruptured my large intestine or something. He was actually fairly gentle, it's the little guys that usually like to hurt people, he used lubricant and went pretty slow, at least at first. It didn't really matter though I started bleeding and it wouldn't stop, for five days Bob kept me in the bathroom, but the blood wouldn't stop, and shit would ooze out unless I tried really hard to keep it in, and that hurt and made the bleeding worse. Eventually he admitted I needed medical attention, and he got one of his regulars, who was a doctor, to look at me. He said it was infected and that I needed to go to a hospital, that I needed surgery. Bob wouldn't let me go to a hospital. He couldn't, so he looked around a bit more and found a doctor even less reputable than the first guy, and he gave me some antibiotics and put thirty-two stitches in my ass. It worked but it wasn't perfect, it took me months to get my bowels back under control. I wore a diaper most of that year, it lowered my price and that pissed Bob off. But he was a consummate businessman and he never damaged the merchandise. Emotional torture was so much more lasting anyway."
"That's the worst thing I've ever heard." He sounded sincere.
"That's the worst thing that's ever happened to me." I replied.
"Was that here? In this city?"
"No, I didn't move to San Francisco until I was nineteen. I was with Bob until I was fifteen, after that I was too old for what his clients were after, really interest in me had been falling off since I was 13, but Bob kept me around because the younger kids looked up to me. I was the closest thing they had to a mother, and Bob was the closest thing any of us had to a father."
"After all that he just threw you out? Why didn't you go to the cops?"
"He didn't throw me out, he gave me to someone else, to a woman this time, and the woman kept me locked in a motel room until Bob had had time to find a new place to rent and move his operation. He did this every time one of his children left. When I finally did talk to the police they told me that every few years they got a report from some girl or boy that got away from him, and they had plenty of artist's renderings, but they hadn't found him yet. I'm pretty sure at least one of his clients was a cop that would warn him when they were getting close, anyway."
"What did you do then, what about this woman?"
"She told me I was an adult now and I could make up my own mind. She said I could either walk right out the door and do whatever the fuck I wanted with myself, or if I wanted I could come and work for her, a fifty-fifty split and I didn't have to pay for rent or food."