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It's A Living free porn video
© Copyright 2012, by Leslie P. Lowe. All rights reserved.
[email protected]
Synopsis: Warning: Very gritty for me! A prison whore meets his new
owner and is forced to demonstrate his skills.
It's A Living
By Leslie Lowe
The label on the green tube of lipstick said, "Revlon Moon Drops Solar
Coral." That brought back memories.
"Quit stalling and put it on, bitch."
"Yes sir," I said, trying to smile at my new owner and his six
lieutenants, ignoring the ten or so of his other whores arranged around
the day room for our business meeting, flipping open my compact and
quickly, expertly doing my lips in the beautiful orange red, very hot,
one of my favorite shades.
"That's more like it," Brick said. "Now I don't want to see you without
it on. All my girls wear it. It's our trademark."
His six muscular underlings, enforcers, collectors, punishers, laughed
on cue. The girls stared off into space, bored with it all.
Except me. I was fascinated. What would Brick do next? He was a very
interesting person I had heard about for years while working in other
organizations.
He walked over to me and tugged on my skirt.
"Where'd you get that dress?" he asked.
"It's a skirt, sir. I made it myself."
"You shittin' me?"
"No, really! All you have to do is cut off the legs, rip the seams, and
sew them together. I've always been a very good seamstress. I just
love to sew."
"You make one for all the other girls?"
"Sure! I'd love to. Maybe we can dye them different colors!" I waited
for the negotiation to begin.
"I'm thinking one for each," Brick said.
"But it takes so long! My income might go down, and you know, it's
hard, so hard, to take care of myself, to make myself pretty for our
clients. Do you think you could make it three? Please?" I moved my
body in its most seductive way. It always worked.
"OK, you win. Two."
"Thank you, sir!"
He lifted the front of my skirt and tugged my panties down.
I moved my hands slowly to cover myself, demure angel that I was, as if
I could not bear the thought of anyone seeing my privates.
"Be still, bitch," Brick said. "Wanna see what I got me for my money."
"Yes sir," I said, standing at attention, feeling the air flowing over
my naked crotch and ass, watching the eyes of the men to see how they
might react, always amusing.
"Whoa!" Brick said. "It is a tiny thing."
"Fucker's like a woman's clit, boss," said a big guy in the front row,
chuckling but not taking his eyes off my shaved pubes.
"Well, it is a clitty," I said musically.
"Yeah, you right," Brick said, spinning me around as if I were a doll
and pushing on my back while pulling on my crotch with the other hand,
bending me over. His fingers probed, checking my boy-pussy, even
fingering me a bit, an inch or so, to see what shape that all-important
organ was in, "and what's that hanging down there under it?" he
continued his commentary, like a judge at a stock show. "They pretty
small too."
"Those are my jewels, boss. Do you like my clitty and my jewels? Do
you like me shaved all over?"
That got a titter or two from the peanut gallery, even a few of the
other girls appreciated it.
"It's OK," Brick said, dropping my skirt, not willing to get too
intimate at the moment.
Not that he couldn't have. He was the boss man on this cellblock. And
it was totally private right then. The guards knew better than to sniff
around when Brick was working. He might cut off their bonus pussy.
I pulled up my panties, wiggling seductively, making sure to ham it up
as much as possible. I caught the eye of one of my girlfriends who had
been sold to Brick months ago. She winked at me. I smiled.
"What you in for?" Brick asked.
"Murder," I said.
Brick laughed. They all joined in. But they were interested.
"Little gal like you? What happen, your boyfriend pull your hair?"
"I was set up," I said, "wrongly accused. I'm in for life without
parole. It's so unfair!"
"Yeah, so was I," Brick said, and the suckups laughed for him.
"No, really," I said. "I've never hurt a soul. You can trust me,
boss." It sounded like the broken record every con played, and yet
sadly, it was the truth for me. Late one night, after leaving a bar, I
had stumbled on a man who lay prostrate on the street, and that's the
last thing I remembered until waking up in jail, accused of the man's
murder.
"You'll do," Brick said, not really listening, never thinking for a
second that I was really a killer, already having assumed I had been
caught in a drug bust in which somebody went down. "Rodney, tell Carl
it's a deal on this girl, what's her name." He turned back to me, a
quizzical look on his face.
"Karma," I said.
"Yeah? Well, Karma, you look real nice in that color. Make sure you
keep it on. You my girl now. Nobody fucks with you without my say-so.
That lipstick is your sign, your friend."
"Yes sir," I said, holding up the lipstick like an Oscar I had just
received for best supporting actress in a prison movie.
"Me and the others got stuff to talk about. You don't know nothing
about it, so there's a trick for you over in D, at 37. New guy. Round
the world. Three packs. Got it?"
"Yes sir," I said, flouncing off the stage, making my exit like a pro,
stopping just outside the door in plain sight to freshen my lipstick,
not just being obedient but being obedience itself, the exemplar of
willing compliance, my chosen profession.
* * *
When I got to D-37, the cell door was open and a large and hairy man lay
back on the bottom bunk waiting for me.
"Hi!" I said, smiling, batting my eyelashes, flicking my painted nails
at him. All girl; that's me.
"You the whore?"
"Yes sir!" Smiling and trying my best to sound eager. "Brick sent me
over? If you approve of me, it will be three packs please?"
He stood up and opened his locker. He put three packs of cigarettes on
the back of the toilet, out of reach for me, easy to protect for him.
I nodded and said, "Thank you, sir!" He was new to us, but he was not
new to the life. He knew how to do a prison deal.
"What's your name, bitch?" He got up and started toward me.
"Karma, sir," I said, smiling my most seductive, starting to get scared.
The new ones were a crap shoot.
"Fuck kinda name is that?"
"It's Asian, sir. I liked it and I think some men like Asian, and when
my last boss got me the permanent eye makeup, I asked Rollo if he could
do, you know, like Asian, oval--"
"Yeah, yeah," he said, putting his enormous, meaty hand on my shoulder,
sliding it up until he had clamped my throat, starting to squeeze.
He wanted to see me suffer, so I suffered, oh I suffered quick, even
before I felt the pressure, long before I felt the panic that getting
close to losing it all always gives me. I caressed his hand, trying to
gentle him like a little girl with a stallion, stroking the wiry hair on
his arm. He let go and moved down to my breasts, such as they were.
"Your nipples are sticking out through your shirt," he said. "You like
a little pain, don't you, bitch?"
"I like you," I said. "Please don't hurt me? I'll do anything you
want. You don't need to--"
"Then shut the fuck up unless I ask you a goddamn question."
I nodded and smiled submissively. I made the porno actress moves the
men liked. I continued to massage his arm and made my way slowly,
kissing his hand and arm as I went, languidly arriving at his heavily
stubbled face, held it lovingly in both my hands, staring deeply into
his eyes as if I loved him and no other, waiting for him to kiss me if
he wanted to. Many of my clients didn't. OK by me. You pays your
money, you takes your choice.
"Kiss me," he said.
I kissed his lips, and he pushed me violently back and into the bars,
hurting me. I gasped as the breath rushed out; I moaned. He probed
with his thick, smoky tongue, humping me as well as he could, but I was
so tiny next to him he couldn't do both ends without bending way over.
So finally, in frustration, he roughly lifted me up, pressing me even
harder against the bars, so he could reach my cunt while he kissed me,
reaching between my willingly spread legs and under me then, twisting my
panties aside, jamming his finger up my boy pussy so hard I cried out, a
muffled cry, like a dying deer.
He backed off, and I slide down the bars to sit on the floor. He sat on
the edge of the bed and spread his legs. "Crawl over here, girl. I got
something for you."
I crawled.
"You are a fucking girl," he said, watching me crawl to him like the
well-paid professional servant I am, then flipping my skirt up and
swatting me on the tush. "Pull it out and taste it, see how you like
it."
I unzipped him and his large cock flopped out and slapped me in the
face, aided by his free hand, the other one now on the back of my head,
entangled in my shoulder-length hair, using it as a handle as he
controlled the range of my tonguing and sucking. "Oh yeah," he said.
"They told me Brick had some hot babes. Can't believe you a man."
I sucked and licked and got into my work. It's a living.
"You listening to me, bitch?"
I sat back, keeping the sensations coming for him by using my hands on
his cock, one of my tiny hands hardly enough to encircle it. "Yes sir,"
I said, smiling. "I'm so sorry. I was enjoying your giant cock!"
He pulled me back on to it and I did my duty.
As so many of them do, he started talking, as if we were in a restaurant
over cocktails, chatting away like a man trying to impress his date.
"You remind me of somebody, like I've seen you before."
I had news for him. He didn't need to chat me up or waste his best
pick-up lines. I was his if he wanted me. If he could keep it up.
"I'm sorry," I said, "I don't think we've met."
"Never did know too many fags," he said, occasionally grunting in
begrudging acknowledgement of a particularly adept move on my part.
"Maybe a couple good fucks the last time I was in, but nothing hot like
you."
"Hmmmp?" I said, to encourage him. A girl can have a fine time if she
can keep her man talking and zone out herself, thinking of Tennessee
hills and babbling creeks and sunshine and shade into the cool of the
evening.
"There was the guy saved my ass one time, long time ago. Came along
walking up the street after a robbery I pulled, before I could get the
guy's wallet, had to hurt the first guy, wouldn't give up his wallet,
dumb fuck, so I popped the fag too. Didn't need a witness. Or he
looked like a fag anyway, little girlie thing like you."
"Mmmhmmm?" I wasn't listening, really, but it keeps them talking to nod
and make sounds of amazed interest at their stories. It's true of all
men, but especially so when cons begin to trot out their tales of
criminal competence.
"Yeah, sombitch went to jail, must a had a fucked lawyer. Funny as
shit, reading it in the papers, seeing him cry on TV as they took his
sissy ass away. Oh, that's nice, yeah right there. What a dumb little
fuck. Name was--? Shit, what was his name? Oh! That's good. Yeah,
baby, suck it harder. Oh yeah."
I wasn't really listening to his sexual drivel, just trying to finish
him off, getting tired on my knees, the tile-over-concrete floor a cold,
hard field of torture. I broke loose for a second, replacing my lips
with my fingertips. "Would you like to lie back?" I asked him. "You
might be more comfortable."
He slid back up on the bed and I followed, not letting go, getting on
all fours on top of him, much more comfortable, thank you. I took him
in my mouth again, hoping he would soon cum. Or would he want to fuck
me first? The customer is always right.
"Cochran!" he said. "I knew I could remember it. Funny name. A little
sissy cocksucker named, like, cock ran." He laughed, enjoying the
memory.
I must have stopped sucking. I was still kneeling there when he slapped
me on the side of my head.
"You quitting on me, bitch? You falling asleep down there? You want
your three packs, you gotta get me hard so's I can fuck your sissy ass."
"Yes sir," I said, recovering, getting back to work in earnest.
And the rest of the date went pretty much as usual, until he asked me at
the end to suck his balls, which I'm very, very good at doing. He was
groggy and almost asleep, laying back after two explosive orgasms and
fucking my little brains out. I think I surprised him with my special
final moves.
* * *
When I got back to the day room, they were still meeting. They looked
at me funny as I stood in the door, unsmiling, my mouth closed tight.
"Where's your lipstick?" Brick said, making everyone turn around and
look at me, sensing a moment of truth.
I pointed to my lips and mumbled something like, "Mouth full."
"She said her mouth is full," one of the girls said.
"What?" Brick said. "Get up here, bitch. You got a trophy? You bring
your daddy a mouth full a cum, prove you done good, like a dog with a
bone?"
I walked up to him, the watching crowd off to our right.
"You do the new guy?" he asked.
I nodded and handed him the three packs of cigarettes.
"Good," he said, tossing him to his purser. "Now what's in your mouth?"
"I think he will be a good girl for you," I said, struggling to say it
with my mouth still full, through my closed lips.
"Don't think so," he said. He turned to his men. "Bitch don't know
nothing about a man like that. He's a bad dude." He turned back to me.
"Right? He hurt you, didn't he? He fuck your jaw up? That why you
can't talk so good?"
I shook my head.
"Well what the fuck you got in your goddam mouth, before I knock it the
fuck out a there?"
I nodded and spit the contents of my mouth into my hand, blood covering
it, dripping down onto the floor, running down my face and neck, giving
my satisfied smile a macabre presence, I'm sure.
"Oh, fuck!" somebody said.
A couple of the girls laughed.
Brick just stared at my bloody hand and the shredded, bloody mass in it.
He looked up at me with genuine shock on his face.
"He should be quite docile after he gets out of the infirmary," I said,
speaking clearly now. "I took the liberty of castrating him for you."
I held up the bloody balls for everyone to see.
[All positive and negative feedback is greatly appreciated!]
© Copyright 2012, by Leslie P. Lowe. All rights reserved.
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