Family Girl - Part 12 free porn video

Family Girl Copyright (c) 2011 by Cody Disclaimer: this story contains subjects that are not suitable for all audiences, such as underage sex, homosexuality, references to incest, and drug use. If such things are illegal in your area, stop reading now. If such things offend you, stop reading now. Preface to Part 12: As mentioned in prior parts, while the first parts of this story were mostly factual, the remainder of this story is complete fantasy. Please enjoy! *** *** *** Part 12 I stared at the wad of money on the table in front of me and thought about what I was. I'd started out as a simple sissy girl, and then I became a girl, and then a slut. I'd loved every moment of that transition. But being a prostitute, a whore: that was more than I could handle. I looked through the blurred vision of the tears that filled my eyes at Mandy and Rosalyn, and the first feeling I felt was betrayal. I saw then that they both had been preparing me to be what I then was. I couldn't deny it: I was a whore. I'd earned money from having sex. I loved having sex, but somehow, some tiny bit of conscience was trying to tell me that whores like me were dirty, they were beneath contempt, and sluts were angels by comparison. But something within me wanted to deny that. That part of me was delighted at the idea of earning money from doing something I loved so much. And I couldn't see Mandy or Rosalyn as dirty or evil. I loved them so much, and I admired them. And then I remembered how Mandy had reacted when I told her I wanted to be just like her; she said I didn't know what I was asking for, and I then realized what she'd meant. But I was like her, then; I was a whore. And yet, I couldn't help but feel horrible. I only wanted to be a slut. I wanted to be sexy for Daddy. I wanted to have sex every minute of every day. But realizing I was a whore was too much and I broke down and starting crying. I got up from the table and ran up to my bedroom. I saw the pile of my 'good girl' clothes lying on the floor and kneeled over and cuddled them to my chest. I just stayed there and cried; I couldn't accept being a dirty whore. I knew that I was just like my idols, but that didn't help. I was still on the floor, my head down in the pile of clothes on the floor, crying when I heard my beloved's voice: "You said you wanted to be like me. Now you are. Isn't that what your wanted, silly girl?" She tossed the bills I'd held downstairs at me and the money flew up and landed all around me. I turned my tear-filled eyes up to see Mandy standing at the door to my room. She was obviously annoyed with me. Painful pangs tore through my heart as I saw how upset she was. "Oh Mandy!" I moaned out. "I'm so sorry!" She looked at me and her face softened. She walked up to me and knelt down beside me while I continued crying. I didn't even know what I was crying about anymore. I stayed on my knees, curled over and crying out the last of my innocence as I cradled my old clothes to me. "You don't have anything to be sorry about, baby," she said. She caressed a hand along my back. "Please don't cry, sweetie," she said. "Please don't cry." "I can't help it," I cried out. "How could you ... how could I ... I can't believe this!" I kept crying into my little girl clothes. I hurt so bad, I felt so worthless, and that's the only other thing I could say to Mandy. "Worthless?!" she exclaimed. "You are *not* worthless, baby girl! Far from it!" She knelt lower and draped herself over my back and held me tight. "I love you, Joanne, I love you like a sister, like a girlfriend, and Mom loves you like a daughter." I heard the emotion in her voice and I knew she was telling the truth. "Do you feel bad because of the surprise or because you earned money doing something you love? Please don't tell me you think me or Mom are bad people because we earn our money having sex?" I started to calm down a bit when she said that. I didn't think badly of Mandy or Rosalyn; I felt badly for myself, because I'd been raised to believe that prostitutes were dirty low-lifes; they were women who had no respect for themselves. But Mandy and Rosalyn were two people I loved above everyone except my family; I loved them like family and respected them both. And I knew they loved me; they'd been nothing to me but wonderful friends, so generous and kind and loving. How could they be bad people? In my confused mind I finally accepted that they weren't bad; they were good people, no matter what, and if I was like them then I was a good person, too. I stopped sobbing and sat back up on my heels. Mandy's arms were still wrapped around me. I turned to look at her and smiled. I threw the little girl clothes I'd been clutching on the floor. Those were the things that I suddenly felt no respect for, and everything they represented: they were the past. My love of sex and Mandy and Rosalyn were the future. I decided that, no matter how hard it might be, I was going to look forward to my life. If I was a whore, so be it. If I was a mere school-girl slut, that was fine, too. Mandy was right: I loved having sex, and the idea of actually earning money from it started to sound exciting. I wondered how much I could make, and thought of all the wonderful clothes and other fun I could buy with it. A small germ of a thought took shape in the back of my mind that maybe I could provide for my family doing something I loved so much. And then it suddenly hit me, and my faced went slack with the shock: I had already become a whore, long before the party. I became the person I was to earn the security of a home for my mother, brother and sister; to provide for us all by being the slut I knew Daddy would want me to be. As this realization sunk in I couldn't help but start to laugh. It was so crazy, and funny, and I kept laughing harder and harder, and I couldn't stop. I bent back down and cradled my head on my arms as I laughed and cried out. "Joanne?!" Mandy asked loudly enough to be heard over my laughing. "What's wrong with you?! What's so funny, babe?" She wrapped me in her arms again and hugged me tighter then ever, and with her kissing my ears and cheek I finally started to calm down. Mandy cooed to me and whispered calming words in my ear as she held me. I sat back up and wiped the tears from my cheek with the backs of my hands. I scooted around in Mandy's arms to face her. I put my arms over her shoulders and stared into her eyes and smiled. She smiled back, though her brows were furrowed with concern. "We're not bad people, Mandy," I said to her. Her beautiful face broke into a huge smile and she leaned over and kissed me softly. I wrapped my arms around her. "I love you, my darling, my love," I said. "I'm sorry for being so silly." "Oh, sweetest baby girl!" She pulled me tightly to her and me hugged and rocked each other from side to side. She kissed my neck. "You're not silly." She pulled back and looked me in the eyes with a loving smile. "Ya know what? Last year, I had the same reaction as you after my first party." My eyes grew round. "It's true!" She kissed me again on the lips. "I didn't think I'd be a whore either, just a little slut like you, and it was such a shock when Mom gave me my share of that party's take." She laughed and tickled my crotch. "And she was right: you made more on your first party than I did." "But, you're a real girl ..." I started to say. "So are you, babe, but you're a girl with something extra, and that's what those guys paid for. There are a lot of men out there who like girls like you, especially because you still have that little wiggler between your legs." "Really?" I asked. It had never occurred to me that my little clitty was worth anything. It felt good when someone played with it, and it squirted my sticky cummies, but I thought girls were supposed to have vaginas, and I wanted mine so badly so I could feel like a real girl, but Mandy said I already was, and that men would like my clitty the way it was. I felt confused again. "Oh yeah, sweet cheeks!" She caressed a hand across my cheek. "Mom told me that John wants you for some private time. What do you think about that?" "Oh wow!" I said. "I like John." I'd never been around so masculine a man. He made Daddy seem like wimpy guy by comparison, and his cock had felt so wonderful pumping in and out of my pussy, and my mouth. Mandy giggled. "See? You like it, don't you? Come on, admit it! You like the idea of making money from doing something you love!" She wrapped her arms around my waist and slowly slid her hands up and down my naked body. I couldn't help but giggle. Her touch felt so good, and I couldn't deny what she was said. She was right. I loved having sex, 'anytime, anywhere' as she said, and the idea of making money from it started to sound really, really good. I imagined charging the boys at school for blow-jobs and giggled again. I couldn't help myself. "Okay, I admit it!" I said, laughing. "I admit it!" "Okay, babe," she said. She looked deeply into my eyes, holding my head. "Say it with pride! Repeat after me!" She leaned forward and kissed me. "Say it: I love sex! I'm a whore!" Her face turned serious. "Say it, baby." "I love sex! I'm a whore!" I said it fervently, knowing how true it was. "I love being a whore!" "I love being a whore!" I repeated after her, even though I felt a little silly. "Good girl!" she said. "Good girl!" I said. Mandy laughed and took me into her arms. We held each other tightly for a couple minutes. I felt so good then, finally. "Come on now, we have to get some clothes on before the cleaners get here," Mandy said. She started gathering my money from the floor around us and I quickly went to help her. She handed me the bills she'd collected. I quickly counted through it. "Oh my god!" I said. I had three hundred and fifty dollars in my hands, in tens, twenties and the fifty! I looked up at Mandy in wonder. "This is so much!" Mandy laughed and caressed my shoulder. "That's just a part of what those guys paid to be with you," she said. "Mom will keep most of it, for now." She leaned in and whispered to me. "But you get to keep all of what you make on your own, baby." She kissed me on the cheek and then stood up and offered me her hand. I took her hand and stood up. "What do you mean, 'on my own?'" I asked her. I went over and got my purse off the desk, and stuffed the money into a zippered pocket inside. "Like when we go down to Portland? Like last weekend?" she answered. "I knew it!" I said with a laugh. "You paid for our tattoos and my piercing with money from those boys, didn't you?" I put my purse down and walked back to her. I took her in my arms and slid my crotch across her thighs. "Tell me the truth, please?" Mandy laughed. "Of course I did, sweetie." She caressed her hands over my bottom. "That's what's so great about doing what we do. It's like free money, and all we gotta do is have sexy fun, like we would do anyway." She kissed me on the lips. "And I know how much you love having sex, my girl." "Oh, Mandy, I really do!" I hugged her to me. "I'm sorry for upsetting you and Rosalyn," I said. "It's okay, dolly," she said into my ear as we hugged. "We totally understand." She pulled back and held me by the hips. "Now get dressed, in something comfy, we have the rest of the day to just relax." "Okay," I said. *** *** *** Mandy, Rosalyn and I spent the rest of the day just lounging around. As horny as I was, we didn't have any sex, though not one of us wore clothes after the cleaners had left. We were never apart, and we talked about everyday old things, like women would do and it felt so wonderful to not have any more deceptions between us. I admitted to them that I was a little upset because I felt like they'd manipulated me into becoming a whore, but I also told them that I knew that's what I was at heart, and I had learned to love the idea. I also told them I wanted to be the best whore I could be, and work as much as possible. Rosalyn said that if I was serious she would arrange for me to have 'dates' as much as I wanted, though she would always take her two-thirds cut if she did. I told her that was fine, since she'd spent so much on making me feel so much at home as her protege. By the time I'd got home that Sunday night I felt a new-found sense of purpose. I had accepted what I was, and loved it. I was going to earn money doing what I loved: having sex. Why should I have sex with strangers if they weren't willing to pay for it? My friends, and lovers like Mandy and Rosalyn, would always have me for free, but everyone else was going to have to pay -- Daddy included. I would make things perfectly clear to him when we finally got together: he could have me as much as he wanted but he would pay, the bastard! He would give Mom, and my brother and sister, whatever we wanted, or he could go to hell. I figured I was going there anyway, but I didn't care. Of course, I never said any of those thoughts to my mentors, but we talked a lot about what being a prostitute really meant, and they helped me see that we were better people than what society said we were. We were givers of pleasure, for a price, and if we were willing, and someone was willing to pay the price, then what was wrong with that? I received glowing smiles when I told my beautiful goddesses: "Nothing at all!" Over the next week I performed my purpose to Mandy and Rosalyn's praise. Mandy told me I couldn't charge the boys at school; for one thing, they couldn't afford us, but for another it could raise unnecessary questions and curiosity. After all, what we did for a living was technically against the law. The boys at school were there for us to have sex with just for the fun of it, like playing instead of working. I made a joke about how us getting our homework done by the geek squad was like working as a whore, but Mandy laughed and said it was the other way around. Those boys were the whores and we were the customers; we were paying them in sex for their schoolwork. I fell into a knot of laughter and giggles at that. After school, I wasted no time in reporting to Mandy's house when I had a date for the afternoon. I serviced the men Rosalyn arranged to be with me and loved every minute of it. I felt so free, so liberated, and by the end of the week, so damned rich, especially on those days where Rosalyn had me working more than one man. On Thursday of that first week, Rosalyn had me serving three men, two of them at once, and I was almost late for my ten o'clock curfew because I didn't want to stop having sex with then. I couldn't believe how wonderful it was to let go of everything: no regrets, no morals, not giving a damn about anything but the moment. Between all the sex with my 'customers', and the sex with the boys at school doing my homework for me, and the drugs and booze Mandy constantly fed me, by the end of the week I'd completely forgotten ever having been anyone else than the whore I loved being. Mom somehow could tell the difference in me after only a couple days. But I could see the difference in her, too. The weirdest thing was pleasuring a 'date' while Mom was in Rosalyn's bedroom down the hall, making more rapturous noise than even I made. I never knew whether Mom was having sex with Rosalyn, or with another man that Rosalyn had invited over. But Mom seemed totally absorbed by Rosalyn. On those rare days when we had some time to talk after I'd gotten home with a tummy and an ass full of cum, she would go on and on about how wonderful Rosalyn was, and how happy she was having discovered the joys of loving a woman. I just knew that Rosalyn had cast some sort of spell over my mother, as she had over me, and I thought it was terrific. I couldn't help but wish that Mom could know that her eldest child was a prostitute, and would be envious, but I knew better than to say anything about that. As Mandy had promised, on Saturday we took a trip down to Portland to earn some money for ourselves. Rosalyn had to go to Seattle that day to work up there, which meant Mandy and I had the weekend together. Mom had already told me several times during the week that I should 'have fun', and just 'be myself', and I didn't have to call or let her know what I was doing, as long as I was with Mandy or Rosalyn, and home before ten on Sunday. I had no idea what Rosalyn had told her, or how she'd convinced Mom to give me so much freedom, but I didn't really care. I really didn't care about much anymore, except having sex, making money and staying high. Nothing else mattered. Mandy and I rode the bus down to Portland early Saturday morning and hailed a cab. She gave the driver an address and after we split the fare we got out and walked up to a run-down looking house with car parts and other crap in the yard, a couple of hot-rod-looking cars and motorcycles in the driveway Mandy banged in a rhythm on the door, and a man answered. He looked a lot like John from the party; his head was clean-shaven and he had earrings in both ears, but otherwise he looked like he'd seen better days. He was overweight, with grey hair, and he wore black denim jeans, black boots, and a black, leather vest over a naked hairy chest that did nothing to cover his huge belly. But he did have a nice-looking cover of manly body hair, and I tingled thinking how it would feel against my skin. He greeted Mandy warmly, and invited us in. Mandy I enjoyed the rest of the day giving pleasure to cock. I took so much pride in discovering that I could make more money than Mandy. Not a lot more, but I figured it didn't matter. I made money having sex, and having sex was all that mattered to me in the drug-induced haze I was in that entire week. Mandy and I worked in separate rooms in that house, and the men that used me ranged in looks as much as I thought possible; fat or skinny, clean or dirty, white to black, and everything in between; I didn't care. Mandy had told me that in that house I had to use condoms to protect myself, and the first guy that used me knew what to do. I supposed he thought I was as dirty as a street slut and wanted to protect himself, but it didn't matter to me. I thought it was funny. I hated the way the rubber tasted when I sucked on his cock, but at least he still felt warm sliding in and out of my pussy. I missed the feeling of the man's juices spurting so deep inside me, but I took Mandy's warnings to heart and accepted it as the price of getting to keep most of the money I earned. Mandy told me the owner of the house would keep some, so we could work there, but the rest was mine. By the end of that first Saturday at the biker house I'd earned almost three hundred bucks. That meant, from the money I'd earned at my first party, and the men Rosalyn had arranged for me -- minus her cut, of course -- I'd made almost eight hundred dollars. I couldn't even imagine what that kind of money could do for me or my family, for only a week of doing what I loved most in the world. By the time Mandy and I left to strut down the street to a gas station to call a cab -- because the owner was already pissed off that we'd arrived in cab and he didn't want any more attention to his house -- I was exhausted. I was glad that I'd taken so many pills and smoked so much weed, because the buzz I felt helped me feel so much better, but I was still tired. At least I didn't have to have a tampon in me since the men had used rubbers. We got to the bus station just after eight o'clock and were able to catch the next bus up to Longview. Mandy and I cuddled in our seats and fell asleep for most of the way back home. I got cleaned up and redressed at Mandy's house after we got back. I really was tired, and I told her I wanted to sleep at home that night, even though it was only a Saturday. I missed being home, and I wanted some peace and quiet for a time. My ass ached and my lips hurt a little, but in an almost pleasant way, as I bid Mandy a longing, kiss- filled goodbye for the rest of the weekend. I walked back home and when I arrived Mom and Rita were happy to see me home. Rita asked me all sorts of questions about what I'd been doing, and I covered myself as well as I could; but with Mom, it was impossible to hide anything except that I'd earned money being who and what I was. She didn't seem in the least bit phased that her fourteen year-old child was having more sex than a girl twice her age. I was glad, because there was no way I would ever stop. Not ever. That Sunday of my first full week of being a whore, and knowing it, was spent at home with my family. I helped Mom and Rita with the chores, and I even got to play dolls with Rita. I felt nothing but joy in doing something I'd always loved to do with my pretty little sister, and for a few brief moments I felt like a little girl again. I looked into her beautiful, smiling face and knew that when she grew up she'd be more sexy and beautiful than I could ever hope to be. She was a regular girl, she had a vagina, she was pure and innocent, she would be what I could never be: a real woman. I was envious but also joyful in that Rita was as pretty as she was; I knew she would never be alone, but being a regular girl meant she could be with whoever she wanted, and that one day that would be with some spectacular guy who would give her his soul. I could look at her and I knew it instinctively; I would never have the purity that she would have. She was a regular girl; I was just a slutty whore. I was worth less than the dirt on the soles of her shoes, and I felt that no more so than when I was playing dolls with her. But another part of me took pride in being able to earn money for myself and my family doing what came naturally to me. I could never express such feelings to her, or to Mom, but I felt them all he same, every moment I was at home. But I felt good about it; I felt good knowing I served my family by not letting my Mom or my darling sister demean themselves by doing what I was dong. I existed to have sex; that was my purpose. *** *** *** Such became the pattern of my life over the next several weeks. By the end of October I'd earned almost four thousand dollars, between Rosalyn's next party and Mandy and I going down to Portland every Saturday. Rosalyn helped me to get an identification card with my picture and address and such, and to open a bank account in my own name. I loved how my account balance grew when I deposited my earnings every week. Rosalyn showed me how to keep my checkbook balanced. She also said she would help me invest my money like she did to make even more, if I wanted. I told her I would think about it, but that there were so many things I wanted to do with it. She laughed and told me she understood how much I wanted to help my family. Mandy and I would sometimes have a little contest. Instead of going to the biker house we'd get dressed even sluttier than usual, and we'd hang out around East Burnside where other prostitutes worked, to see which of us could turn the most tricks before heading home. At first the other girls there were real upset about the competition, but after a couple times they relaxed and let us work there, too. Mandy almost always made more than I did, and I joked that it was her bigger boobs that got the men interested and we laughed. I didn't much like working the streets, especially as the weather turned colder and wetter. Sometimes we'd hang out at a diner across from a motel and sip coffee and talk while it rained. Once in a while we'd get picked up in the diner by someone staying at the motel so it wasn't a complete loss. It was so much fun being me. But all that fun came to shattering end the Saturday before Halloween. October 26th, 1974 is a day I will never forget. Mandy and I were working at the biker house. It was early evening and I was in the middle of my fourth guy. I didn't even remember his name or if he'd even told me; I was so drugged fogged and filled with lust. His cock was pumping forcefully in and out of me, and we were both quickly approaching our orgasms when there were loud banging noises from the front and back of the house, and a lot voices yelling and people rushing around, and sounds of glass crashing. I even heard a couple of gunshots. The man pulled out of me, put his clothes on and listened at the door. I saw him pull a gun from his jacket pocket. I quickly got dressed, too. My heart was thumping in my chest with fear. I collected my things, but put my money in my bra just in case, and sat trembling on the bed with my eyes clenched shut. "What's going on?" I asked him, my voice choked with fear. "Shut up!" he said in a whisper. "I think we've been raided." Just then I heard heavy footsteps coming down the hall banging open doors, and voices shouting words like "freeze" and "hands up". The man backed away from the door and stood at the foot of the bed next to where I was sitting. He tossed the gun into the open closet. I jumped in fright and my eyes flew open when the door crashed in and a man in a black jumpsuit, with a big vest around his chest with the word "Police" stenciled across the front. He wore a helmet with a clear plastic faceplate on his head. He was carrying a machine gun and it was pointed right at the man. I could see other men behind him dressed the same, all of them with guns. The cop stepped further into the room and another one came in behind him. The buzz I'd had from smoking a joint before servicing the man was gone. I was more terrified than I'd ever been in my life. "Hands up!" the policeman said to the man. The man put his hands on top of his head. The other cop frisked him down then cuffed his hands behind his back, and then took the man out and the other cop stood in front me. His gun was pointed right at my chest and I was shaking all over. Another cop came in behind him. "Get up!" he ordered. I obediently stood, clutching my purse and coat to my chest. I felt myself leak a little pee into my panties. I felt like bursting out in tears but I was afraid the cop would get angry. The first cop took my coat and purse and looked in it. He looked through my wallet to find my ID card. He put that in his pocket and then gave my purse and coat to another cop. He quickly frisked me: "Hands behind your back," he said a little softer. I think he could see how scared I was. Soon enough I had my arms behind me, and handcuffs tightly holding my wrists. They hurt and my arms pulled painfully against my shoulders. The cop put my coat over my shoulders and led me out of the room. When I got to the front room I saw Mandy, handcuffed like me. She was in tears and when I saw her I started crying, too. They had us standing on opposite sides of the room so we weren't able to talk about what was happening. I just stood there and cried while the police went through the house. I don't know how long we stood there like that but eventually we were led out single file and loaded into a big van. Thankfully I was seated next to Mandy on the bench and we rested our heads on each other's shoulders and started crying again. I hurt so much inside, and was so scared, and I wished we could have held each other. I had no idea what was going to happen to us, but I knew we'd been arrested. I figured I would end up in jail, and because I still had something that looked like a penis they'd put me in with boys or men, and that was scariest of all. "Wha -- what's going to happen, Mandy?" I stuttered to her in a whisper after they slammed the doors shut. A little light came through the barred windows above our heads. "We're going to jail, babe," she said, her voice low and choked. "I'm sorry!" She started crying again and I joined her. A couple of the guys around us made rude comments about us trying to comfort each other but I was too broken up to be bothered by them. It was hard trying to stay in place on the smooth steel bench as the van drove to wherever we were going, and a couple times we got jostled around. "You don't have to be sorry, Mandy," I said to her. "I went there because I wanted to." She just looked into my eyes and then kissed me. Even in the horrible situation we were in I still felt love and passion for her as we kissed. The guys in the van made even more rude comments about the "lezzie action" but that didn't stop us. It was the only way we knew to comfort each other. After a couple minutes we just snuggled together as well as we could. I didn't know what the future held, but I was scared. Finally, the van pulled to a stop and the doors were unlocked and opened. Several uniformed policemen were waiting and helped each of us get out. Two cops, a man and lady, took Mandy and I away from the men and led us into the police station to a small waiting area, unlocked the cuffs, and locked us in. We both put on our coats because it was chilly in there and we hardly had any clothes on anyway. Mandy and I held each other in a tight hug. We were both cried out and just held each other in silence. We just stayed like that for a while, but then the lady copy appeared behind a thick window and she told us to break up. Feeling completely defeated we obeyed. She called Mandy over to the window and told me to sit in one of the chairs bolted into the floor. She and Mandy talked quietly for a while and then Mandy turned and smiled at me and walked over to a set of phones hanging on the wall. Before I could ask Mandy what was going on the lady copy called to me. I immediately went over and stood in front of the window. "Okay, honey," she said. "You've probably figured out that you're in big trouble." I nodded my head and looked down. She looked at a form on the counter in front of her. "Is the information on this correct?" she asked, holding up my ID card. "Yes," I said. She started writing my name and address and such on another form. She made some comment under her breath about me being 'just a little kid.' I hadn't felt 'little' for a long time but I didn't feel like correcting her. "What're your parent's names?" I told her and she wrote that down too. She also asked for my home phone number. She wrote my answers down as I gave them. I didn't see any point in lying. I felt doomed, like the new life I had come to love was now over. After that she then looked at me seriously. "Now, is there anything you want to tell us before the doctors examine you?" "Examine me?" I asked in shock. I couldn't let them do that. "Yes, it's procedure, especially in this case. That house you were in is a known hotbed for prostitution, drugs, and gun-running. You and your friend are both suspected to have been 'working' there, based the report from the arresting officer." "But --" I started to say. "No 'buts', miss. Right after you make your phone call we'll be taking you to the doctor, then you'll be processed back here." She paused and smiled. I could tell she was trying to be nice, all things considered. "Now, would you like to call your parents?" She indicated the phones where Mandy was talking with someone very quietly. "Do I have to call them?" I asked. I wanted to call Mom but how could I tell her I'd been arrested? I couldn't even imagine that conversation. I could never tell her why. "Honey, because you're underage, we'll be calling them anyway," the lady said. "Your parents have to know so they can bail you out. Your friend is calling her mother now. Don't you think they'd rather hear about this from you first?" I heard Mandy hang up the phone behind me. I turned to look and she smiled and gave me a thumbs-up sign. I turned back to the lady copy. I finally became aware enough to notice her nameplate over her breast pocket. "Okay, Officer Hansen, I'll call them." The lady cop was right; Mom and Daddy would find out one way or another. "Good girl," she said. "After you're finished just have a seat until we're ready to take you two to see the doctor." I went over to Mandy and we hugged again. "Did you talk to Rosalyn?" I asked her. "Yeah, she's on the way down," Mandy answered. "Are you gonna call your mom?" "Yeah, she said I should," I replied, nodding my head towards the lady cop. "I don't know what to say to Mom." I started to cry again and Mandy held me until I calmed down. "Thanks, Mandy," I said. Mandy pulled back and held me by the shoulders. "Hey, you're my sister, now, babe." She kissed me gently. "I love you." She pulled me back into a hug. "I love you, Mandy," I said with my head resting on her shoulder. "Just tell your mom the truth, baby," she said, still holding me tightly. "She'll find it out anyway." She let me go and patted me on the bottom. "Go on, Joanne. Call her. And don't forget the area code." She smiled at me. I smiled back and went to the phones. I saw a sign above it that gave the address of the police station we were in. On the counter below the phones was a phone book. I took a deep breath and picked up the handset from the cradle. I started dialing my home number, my hands shaking. After a lot of clicking noises I heard it ring. "Hello?" It was my brother. "Hi, Darryl," I said. "It's Joanne. Could I talk to Mom or Daddy?" "Hi, Joanne. Just a minute." I waited for one of them to come back. I didn't know who would be easier to tell. I knew Mom would be disappointed in me, again, and the thought of that made me sick in my tummy. And Daddy would probably me very mad at me. I was trembling all over waiting for someone to speak. I knew it wasn't more than a minute, but it seemed like a long time. "Joanne?" asked Mom. "What's going on, honey?" I took another deep breath and let it out slowly before answering her. "Um ... Mom ... I'm at a p-p-police station in Portland," I stuttered out. "What?! Portland? Police?!" She was definitely upset. "What's the matter, Joanne?!" "I'm sorry, Mommy!" I said. "I've been a-a-arrested," I stuttered again. "What do you mean 'arrested'?!" she asked. "What the hell have you been doing?!" How was I going to tell her what they arrested me for? I started crying into the phone. "Talk to me!" she said. "Come on, Joanne, please tell me what's going on." Her voice was a little softer and it helped calm me. "Mom, I don't know how to tell you," I said. I took another deep breath and remembered that the cops were going to call her and Daddy, and they would find out everything anyway when they came to get me. "They arrested me for prostitution." There. I'd said it. But now I was worried because there was a thumping noise on the other end of the phone and then just the hiss of dead air. There were some voices in the background but no-one picked up the phone. "Hello?" I said. "Hello? Is there anyone there?" I kept asking that louder and louder. I felt Mandy snuggle up behind me and wrap her arms around me. "What's wrong?" she asked. "I told Mom why we were arrested, and now there's no-one there," I told her. Suddenly I heard Daddy's voice on the phone. "Who is this?" he asked gruffly. He sounded upset, but not angry. "It's me, Daddy," I told him. "Joanne? What the hell did you say to your mother?! We just found her fainted away on the floor." He paused. "What's happening, Joanne." "Oh, god, Daddy! Is Mom okay?" The rest of the situation faded to the back of my mind with worry over Mom. 'Yeah, I think she's okay," he answered. I breathed a sigh of relief. "She's lying on the couch now. Rita and Darryl are with her. Now tell me what the hell is going on." "Daddy, I'm in Portland. I've been arrested," I blurted out before I could stop myself. I kept telling myself he would find out anyway, but that didn't make it any easier. "What?! What for? Have you been getting that sissy ass of yours in trouble?" He sounded like he wasn't taking me seriously. That upset me, and with everything else I'd been through for him to be joking around, it just made me mad. I couldn't help but want to lash out. "I'm a whore, Daddy," I said as sweetly as I could. I was satisfied at the silence on the line. I knew he wouldn't have fainted but I was sure he was surprised, and probably mad. "Where are you?" he said after a minute or so. His voice sounded as tightly-controlled as I'd ever heard it. I could tell he was upset and I was glad. I looked up at the sign and read off the precinct number and station address to him in the same tone of voice I'd used to tell him what I was in jail for. "I'll see you in a while," he said and then hung up. "Bye Daddy," I said to the dead line. I hung up the phone and turned around in Mandy's arms. "Well, that's done," I said to her. I wrapped my arms around her and we kissed. "I heard," she said. "What's wrong with your mom?" "Daddy said she fainted after I told her. He says she'll be okay." Mandy unwrapped her arms from around me, took my hand and led me over to the seats. We sat down and held hands for a while before I spoke again. "Did the lady cop tell you they were gonna have a doctor examine us?" "Yeah," she answered. She squeezed my hand. "What am I gonna do when they find out I'm not a regular girl?" I tried not to cry again. My eyes were stinging and dried out, and I'm sure they were all bloodshot, too. "They can't do anything, sweetie," Mandy said. She turned in her seat to face me. I did likewise to face her. We held each other's hands between us. "First off, you're underage. We'll probably have to go see a judge or something in juvie court, but I don't think either of us will go to jail. Plus, Mom knows some people in the system. They'll probably let us off with probation or something." She reached up to caress my cheek. "So don't worry, babe, okay?" "I can't help it," I told her. "I'm so scared." She scooted as close as she could in the chair and held me to her as I couldn't help myself and started to cry again. "Oh, Mandy! What am I going to do?" "Shhh, baby girl, we'll be okay." Mandy tried to comfort me and after a while I calmed down. We just stayed cuddled like for I don't know how long. I was actually starting to relax when I heard a door unlocking. We both got up expectantly and looked to see the door going further into the police station swing open. Standing there was the lady cop. Now that I was calmed, I could see that she was a nicely attractive older woman, her blonde hair tinged a bit with gray and pulled up into a bun. She looked like a motherly type, and wore only a light pinkish gloss on her lips. She had a sturdy figure, or maybe it was the uniform with the heavy belt around her waist that hid a womanly shape. She had a smile on her pleasant-looking face. "Come along, girls, it's time to see the doctor," she said. She motioned for us to walk through the door. We complied obediently, Mandy going first. We entered a room full of other cops, some uniformed, some not, sitting at desks or standing, talking on phones. Just like any office anywhere, except they were our jailers and we were under their complete control. Under other circumstances I might have liked submitting to a group of strangers, but right then I was very uncomfortable. The lady cop directed us down several hallways until we entered what was obviously some medical facility. There were curtained alcoves, devices, and all that I'd associated with hospital exam rooms from movies and television. I started to feel like I was in one of those shows; the reality of my situation started to drain out of me, and I felt so weird. The lady cop had me sit on one of the beds and put Mandy on another one in the next alcove. A curtain separated us. The lady cop stood off to one side and watched us. After a while a man and woman came in. The white man wore a white lab coat over a shirt and tie and slacks, while the black woman was dressed in blue cloth pants and top. They both had stethoscopes around their necks and other things stuffed into their top and coat pockets. The man went over to talk quietly to the lady copy while the woman first examined Mandy and then me. She took our blood pressure, pulse and other vitals, and drew some blood. I was too out of it to really do more than do what I was told. I sat and waited while the man, evidently the doctor, pulled the curtain around Mandy's alcove. I heard soft voices but couldn't see much of what was going on. I could tell at one point that Mandy was laid down on the bed, with her feet in stirrups at the end of her bed, her legs spread wide. I looked on either side of my bed and saw the same things and shuddered. I knew what was coming, and it scared and worried me. I heard the curtains pulled aside as the doctor emerged from examining Mandy. He walked over and faced me. I looked up to him with mixture of fear and excitement. He was really young and handsome, with dark black hair, light blue eyes, a masculine but almost boyish face, and full pink lips. I warmed to him immediately and smiled. He smiled back and looked at his clipboard before setting on the counter. "Hello, Joanne," he said pleasantly. "My name is Doctor Poe, and I'm here to take a look at you." He took the stethoscope from around his neck. "Just relax, honey. I can see how scared you are. This won't take long." His voice was soft and comforting. Even with all I'd been through, I was getting a little turned on around him. I felt myself relaxing in his warm glance. We went through the usual deep breathing, and him listening to my heart and all that. But then came the scary part. "Okay, Joanne, now take off your skirt and panties and scoot up on the table and rest your feet in the stirrups." He said it like I'd had these kinds of exams before, but of course I hadn't, not even with the doctor Mom had been taking me to for my shots and hormone pills. "Doctor, I ... I can't ... can't do that," I stuttered. "Come on, honey, of course you can. You're fourteen; surely your family doctor has looked at you?" He patted the exam table next to me. "It's okay, Joanne, it won't hurt." I could feel the fear returning as I complied. I slipped off my skirt, folded it slowly and carefully and placed it on the table behind me. I looked at the doctor with tears rolling down my cheeks. He had a comforting expression on his face, as though he'd been through this before, but I felt he would be completely upset when he saw what was under my panties: a stupid, ugly little penis instead of the sweet, tender welcoming vagina I wanted so badly. I took a deep breath and slipped my delicate, lacy pink panties down, and bent over to slip my feet from them. I turned around to place them on top of the skirt, and then looked back to the doctor. I stood with my hands at my sides and wished I could just melt into the floor. "Go ahead, sweetie, get back on the table," he said, as he swung the stirrups around. I was confused. Surely he must have notice my anatomy by then. I did as he asked numbly, almost robotically. He moved the stirrups around and positioned them. He looked at me with a smile as he put my heels in them and then spread them wide apart. "Lie back, Joanne," he said. I obeyed instinctively. I felt him touch my clitty and gently rub on it, almost sexually. He lifted and rolled the skin of my empty scrotum around. I felt so confused, and yet tingly, too. The shock and surprise, and cruel words, that I'd expected were totally absent. It was as though this doctor was used to seeing girls like me every day. "Lift up and roll up your hips a bit, sweetie," I heard him say. I did as he asked and presented my pussy to him. I felt him probe and examine me for a while. I felt a tiny touch inside me and bent up to see him put a Q-tip swab in a small plastic baggy. I laid back down in wonder. Obviously, I really wasn't the only girl like me that he'd seen, and he didn't seem to care one way or another. I wondered about the other girls the doctor must have seen to be so carefree about examining me. "Okay, Joanne, that's it. Go ahead and get dressed." He pulled the stirrups closer together and took my feet out. I sat up and looked down at him still seated between my legs. We shared a smile before he stood up and pulled off the rubber gloves he'd worn while looking at me. I hopped off the table and reached around behind me for my clothes. I quickly dressed while Dr. Poe made notes on his clipboard. I stood submissively at the foot of the exam table while he wrote, and admired what I could see of his slim, yet fit physique. He turned to me when he was finished writing and smiled. He leaned in close and whispered in my ear. "Relax, sweetie, you're not the only girl like you that I've seen, though you're probably the prettiest." He stood up, patted me on the shoulder and smiled. "You're gonna be okay, Joanne, don't worry. You're smart to be using condoms." He smiled again, turned around, slid open the curtains and walked out. I just stood there. I was surprised, amazed and relieved, all at the same time. I felt a wave of calmness wash over me as I watched him walk over to the lady cop and talk to her for a couple of minutes. I turned to see Mandy and she looked over to me and smiled a little smile. I returned it and blew her a kiss to show her I was okay. Her smile broadened and she winked at me. The lady cop stepped over to us after the doctor and nurse had left. "Okay, girls, time to get you processed." She directed us back to the main room of the station and led us to a door and ushered us in. Inside were a few other girls seated on benches against the wall, or on mats on the floor. We stepped inside and the heavy metal door clanged shut behind us. Mandy found us a spot on the floor on one side of the room and we sat down. She leaned in and whispered to me. "Don't say nothin' to nobody, babe." I looked at her with a curious expression. "Any of these bitches could be a stoolie," she said. "You tell them anything and it'll get right back to the pigs." "Okay," I whispered back with a sudden understanding. I realized that it was best to pretend like this was all a big mistake, that we were innocent. I didn't feel the least bit bad if it meant lying to the cops. I wanted out of this mess any way possible. "How was the exam?" Mandy asked me, still in a whisper. We were seated comfortably close together and she had an arm wrapped behind me around my waist. She pulled me closer and I felt so warm in her embrace. "I couldn't believe it," I said back to her. "It was like it was no big deal to him. He told me I'm not the only kind of girl he's seen." "O' course ya ain't, ya silly bitch," said a somewhat deep but girly- sounding voice with a laugh. I turned to see a black girl with a full though short afro, luscious red lips, and a face that, while girly, was also unmistakably the face of someone that used to be a boy, with a solid chin and jaw line, heavy brows and her deep voice. "You think you the only tranny ho in the world?" I looked at her in amazement, and then heard Mandy giggling beside me. I turned to her and she looked at me. "Aint' that the truth?" she said to the other girl. They both started laughing. "This here's Joanne. I'm Mandy." "I's Brandee," the girl said. "This is ma girlfriend Lacey." She elbowed another girl sitting beside her that appeared asleep. Lacey was a very petite little Latina girl, with jet black hair and a pretty elfin face, and thick, full lips. Both of them were dressed as sluttily as me and Mandy were, though their clothes seemed cheaper and were worn and tattered. A part of me felt better seeing that. "Where'd you get pulled?" she asked. "We were at Jake's place," Mandy said. She'd never told me the name of the guy we worked for at the biker house. "Oh yeah, I worked there a while, 'fore I got hooked on smack," Brandee said. "Jake kicked me out afta that." She sounded upset about it. "What's 'smack'?" I asked. "Never mind," Mandy started to say, but Brandee spoke louder. "I's what they call's heroin, sweet cheeks," she said. "Bes' dam' high in the worl'." She looked at me and smiled. "You likes gettin; high, girl, I can sees it yo eyes." She must've seen something because I did love to get high so much. It was the next best thing to fucking as far as I was concerned. I looked at Mandy and smiled at her. As long as she was a part of my life I would do only what she said was okay. I wasn't worried. I whispered that same thought into her ear, and she turned and smiled at me. She gave me a gentle kiss. Brandee chuckled. "You two lovers?" she asked. "Yes!" I answered fervently. "But we both love boys, too," I said with a giggle. Mandy clutched me tighter to her and whispered tightly into my ear. "Hush up, you silly girl. We don't know this bitch. Do like I told you!" She shook me gently with the arm wrapped around me. I lowered my head to my goddess, feeling utter shame and submission overwhelm me. I heard Brandee chuckling. "I knew it!" she said. "This yo bitch, ain't she?" Mandy just glared at her without a word. Brandee put up her hands in a token of surrender and stayed silent. The room was quiet after that. I rested my head on Mandy's shoulder and wrapped an arm over her tummy. An unknown amount of time passed without a clock in that little room. In ones and twos other girls were called out of the room, and other girls were brought in. After a while all the girls that had been there when we'd arrived were gone. No-one said hello or good-bye as they entered or left. There didn't seem to be any point. Mandy and I just stayed clutched together and ignored everyone else. Finally our names were called from the open doorway to the cell. "Mandy Wilson! Joanne Peterson!" said the gruff voice of a male cop. "Out! Now!" We got up and followed the guard out into the central room. Mandy and I were separated and I followed a mean looking Asian cop over to a desk. He had me sit in a chair by his desk. Mandy was led to a different desk by a white, older cop. I kept trying to steal glances over to Mandy, just in hopes of seeing her smile or a twinkle in her eye, but the cop I was with kept asking me questions. He seemed to want to know everything about my life, as well as what I knew about what I now knew was 'Jake's house.' I told him everything I knew, except why I was there. I was never going to admit to cops about being a whore. I had a pretty good idea what would happen if I admitted that. There wasn't much I could tell him about Jake, because I really didn't know anything, other than about why I'd been there and they weren't going to learn that from me. After he was done asking his stupid questions, the cop took me over to an area to get my fingerprints and a 'mugshot' taken. For some reason I smiled for the picture. By that time I just didn't care anymore. My only fear had been getting treated differently for not being a regular girl and that seemed now long past. I knew I was being a 'bad' girl, and a strong part of me loved it. I felt that Mandy and Rosalyn would be proud of me. *** *** *** I was alone, and had never felt it more than I did at the moment. Mandy had been called out of the waiting cell a long time before. I hadn't seen her in what seemed like hours. I was handed a pile of clothes and a baggie of toiletries and led to a small room and told to change. I put on a plain, white bra with too big cups, and white cotton panties. I stuffed my money in one of the cups and wondered if anyone could see me. I put on a loose-fitting pair of blue cotton pants with no pockets and a short-sleeved top. I put my girl clothes in a large bag that they took away. I was led into another area of the jail and they put me in a large round room with several doors leading to small cells. None of the other girls there seemed friendly, and I felt very uncomfortable around a few of them. I recognized the predatory looks in their eyes and I felt shame and fear in response. Fear over what they wanted to do to me, and shame that I wished they would. The cop that took me to the area showed me to a small cell with bunk beds, and a stainless steel sink, toilet and mirror. The room was very small, and I hated the idea of being locked up in it. There was a television in one corner of the room. The tough-looking girls were watching some sort of comedy show, and I watched along with them for a while, out of habit I suppose. But I wasn't really watching, and my mind was flooded with thoughts of what was going on back in my home. I thought of Mom and why she'd had the reaction she did when she heard why I'd been arrested. I thought of my sister and brother, and wondered if they knew that I was in jail. And I thought of Daddy, and the sound of his voice after I'd told him I was a whore. I regretted doing it, then, but I comforted myself with the knowledge that he would've found out anyway. Maybe I should have told him a little more gently but he'd upset me joking about me being in jail, and still calling me a sissy instead of a girl. I sat there and wondered what was taking Daddy so long. But there was no-one to ask. After a while the television shut off automatically and the lights in the main room dimmed and the lights from the cells streamed out. It was time for bed, and I was still in jail. Daddy hadn't come. End of Part 12