Chapter Two

 

Part Three

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Never Been Used

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I remember the night that I became a whore. I’d been using heroine for a several weeks and I’d already sold everything I owned. I resorted to stealing but I wasn’t very good at it, I kept getting arrested and was put on probation. I had just turned eighteen and so was old enough to be tried as an adult now.

 

I some how managed to scrape enough money together for another hit but this time when my dealer counted it I was twenty short. He did not look happy at all and thumped me in the stomach so hard it knocked the wind out of my chest and I curled up on the floor. “Where's the rest of it?” I tried to explain to him that it was a mistake but I couldn’t make a sound.

 

He knelt down in front of me, slapped me in the face and grabbed my hair. “Look at me. Where’s the rest of it.” I tried to explain to him but I couldn’t say a word. “Well you’re going to have to pay for it some how." He picked me up by the scruff of my neck, spun me around and pulled my sweat pants down.

 

“No! I’m not a whore!” I begged helplessly “Trust me, I’ll make you one after this you fucking bitch.” He spat in his hand and then forced his middle finger right up my anus. "Stop it!" The problem with heroin is that it’s not as glamorous as it is on TV. Not only are the withdrawal symptoms hell, it also constipates you too.

 

He soon changed his mind as he wiped thick light brown shit on my sleeve. Unphased he pulled his cock out spat on his hand again but his spit was all watery and useless. I was very inexperienced and I burst into tears and whelped like a dog, tears ran down my cheeks and my nose dripped with snot but he didn’t care.

 

I could feel him stretching me open as he forced his way inside my dry vagina. I’d had sex before but my dealer was the first man ever to fuck me. He had a big cock and he liked it rough. It was so uncomfortable, I could feel every jab. I could taste salty tears and flem in my mouth as I managed to whimper the word. “Stop.” but he just put his shitty hand over my mouth and fucked me even harder. “You want your gear right?”

 

I nodded as best I could as I felt him break me mind, body and soul. I wouldn’t say I got used to it but after a while despite how awful it was I sort of zoned out. It went on for ages until finally he dug his fingers in my hips and came inside me with a grunt. He followed through for a while but it was more comfortable after he came as things became more slippery. It sounded like he’d spat on the floor as he pulled out and a glob of cum plopped out.

 

I turned to face him pulled my pants up and squatted down against the wall. He handed me a bag. I was that desperate I used half a coke can as a spoon and rain water from a puddle. Comparing it to that first hit is like comparing having a wank to sex. It gets worse and worse until in the end the only reason you take it is to get rid of the withdrawal symptoms but this batch was uncut and it felt like hot treacle going through my veins.

 

“That was the good stuff but a pretty girl like you can afford it if you whore yourself out. Here call this number.” I must have passed out. The next day I woke up in the street. Cum still dribbling out of my stretched cunt forming a crusty stain on my joggers. All I could think about was getting more of that shit he gave me and without hesitation I called the number.

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