Trafficked Love Ch. 18 - Sex Stories

Trafficked Love Ch. 18

Chapter Eighteen: Angels and Demons Having been born into the lifestyle, it was only natural that Rich was now deeply immersed in it. He had been born to a prostitute, and no one ever knew who his father was. He was raised by his mother, his mother’s pimp, and the other girls the pimp managed. As a small child, the girls happily played with him and watched over him, and although he knew who his biological mother was, none of the girls acted more like a mother figure than the rest. He simply bounced from one girl to the next. As he grew older, the girls lost interest. He watched girls come and go, watched them as they sold themselves, got high on drugs, were beaten by pimps or clients, and struggled from one day to the next. Money was scarce, since what money the girls did make, always ended up going towards the drugs they seemed to need to survive. There were many times he went to bed hungry, dirty, and alone. When he was deemed old enough, his mother’s pimp began to teach Rich about the life, and the “game” of pimping women. He started to see the darker side of the life. But this was Rich’s life. He knew nothing different, and therefore had no motivation to be anything different. By the time he was a teenager, Rich had two girls working for him. Each had been in the life for a long time, and the effects of that living was wearing them thin. A year or so later, Rich lost one of his girls to a drug overdose, and the other was beaten by a client so bad that she could no ...

... longer work. Unsure what to do with her, another pimp gave Rich the contact info of a man who took “used girls.” And that’s how Rich met Frank. +-+-+ Rich and Jessica sat in the car silently. They both knew what was coming, and yet, they were both very new to it all. Rich had never sold a girl before, and Jessica had no clue what was to come. She couldn’t work anymore. Her last client had beaten her senseless, and after two weeks, her body still twitched and shook uncontrollably. Her thin frame was still darkly bruised from the ordeal, and her mouth sagged in one corner. The yellowish bruises on her inner arm from the years of drug use, and the blister on her upper lip just added to the obvious life she lived. Rich looked over at her. She was the first girl he’d had. And he had done his best to take care of her. How could he have known what that man was going to do to her? And now, there was nothing he could do except sell her. This life was all she had ever known, and Rich knew she wouldn’t last without a pimp. But Rich couldn’t keep her; she couldn’t work. Not like this. Riggz, a fellow pimp that Rich had befriended, had given him the phone number. Not knowing what else to do, Rich had called. Now they were meeting a man named Frank in a deserted parking lot, out in the middle of nowhere. Hearing the engine of another car, Rich looked up to see white utility van pull up a few yards away. The driver sat, watching them. Rich watched him back. Deciding to take the initiative, Rich ...