Trafficked Love Ch. 15 - Sex Stories

Trafficked Love Ch. 15

Chapter Fifteen: Worth Angel slammed the club’s back door open; letting a blast of cool August air hit her in the face. Every once in a while, she would get these crazy offers from clients. They expected her to do anything. A guy wants to see her bend over for a dog; she’s expected to do it. Someone needs a star for a taboo or snuff film, she’s supposed to follow, no questions asked. And they all get stark raving mad when she turns them down. The thought of doing some of the stuff she’s asked to do, it was enough to make her stomach churn. Hence the reason she now found herself outside, in the shadows of the back of the club, in nothing but a bra and bootyshorts. “Hey you bitch!” A hard smack landed across Angel’s cheek as she turned toward the voice. The smack caught her off guard and she lost her balance. Landing on her side, Angel turned quickly to look up at the man whom had just offered her a grand to partake in beastiality. “You disrespectful little cunt!” The man reached down and snatched Angel by the throat, straddling her body. Angel couldn’t lift him. He was bigger and stronger than her, and she had been working long hours the past few weeks. Physically, she was exhausted. The man gave a firm punch to the side of Angel’s face, followed by a few to her stomach and ribs. He grabbed hold of her thin bootyshorts and ripped them clean off of her. Angel tried to scream, but his grip on her throat got tighter. She thrashed, clawing at his legs and arms, even trying to ...

... reach up and claw his face. But another punch to her ribs was enough to stop her thrashing, if only for a second to catch the breath that was violently pushed out of her lungs. The man gave a hard slap between her legs, causing Angel to jolt and thrash again. “Your filthy loose pussy could easily take a doggy dick, you sick cunt!” Again Angel clawed at him, thrusting her hips up at him in an attempt to buck him off of her. He gave her face another slap, his grip tight enough on her throat that she couldn’t even barely gasp for breath. Angel clawed at the dirt, trying to throw handfuls of it in his face. Nothing phased him. He just continued to maul her. +-+-+ Unsure of which way she went, Rich pushed the back door of the club open. It was an emergency exit, but the alarm had long gone out, and many of the dancers used it to step outside for a cigarette between their performances. It was likely Angel would be outside smoking, or pleasing a client. He heard them before he saw them. The sound of an obvious struggle; thumping, cursing, gasping, even soft pleading whimpers between derogatory remarks. Either Angel had just taken on a client who enjoyed things a bit on the rougher side, or she was in trouble. Rich quickly spotted the struggle. The man was straddling her, pinning her to the ground. His back was to Rich, so Rich couldn’t make out the entirety of what was happening, but Angel’s desperate thrashing and clawing at the dirt made it obvious to him that this was not business. ...