Belonging

I don't know what deal Titch struck with Des, who was one of the guys at the party, but the upshot was that Des bought me off him, and surprise, surprise, it wasn't to work the streets any more. I'm not saying that he was in love with me, he never said that either, but he wanted me to be his – well, his and his chums. I suppose in a kind of a way it was like a Weegie version of the Edinbuggers Ring that I had belonged to – OMG that was like years ago, although it can't have been even a year because I was still 13, even though Titch often told me to say I was 12 or if the punter was shortsighted, 11. But I don't think Des was too specific in his requirements, just that I was young and white. Cos that was what he liked. Young and white. But he did call me Teri, and said I was to call him Daddy, cos he was my Sugar Daddy and if I was sweet to him and his chums, I'd have an easy life.

But not a quiet one. Des was one of those guys who could keep his pole up for hours and only cum when he wanted to, and then it was a pint-full pumping away inside me. But, I'll say this, he never slapped me or hit me or anything like that. He did sometimes tie or strap me up, especially if he was having a particular friend or group of friends over, cos some of them have to see a girl whose not only submissive, but is restrained, completely helpless and at their disposal. I can't say I really se the point of it myself, but certainly I know there are lots of guys who like that.

Now Des was a hairdresser, which was kinda funny in a way. He was quite big and black and strongly built, and I can assure you he was 100% straight, not even remotely bi-sexual, but on a few occasions he took me with him when he was working on a TV show or movie, and he put on this absolutely ace camp persona – he should have been an actor, because I swear anyone who didn't know he'd been fucking me all night before, would have sworn he was gay. Maybe it's what's expected of people in jobs like his, in TV or Movies, they are expected to be gay so act it, if they aren't already.

Anyway, Des had this idea. Which I've heard more about since, that white girls and women have a duty to please black men, because of the slavery stuff. Which in a way I can understand, cos their ancestors were really badly treated and white men used black women as prostitutes or concubines,

But on the other hand, that was nothing to do with me! And they do say that two wrongs don't make a right. But either way, I belonged to Des now, and I suppose that meant I was his slave, and he and his friends used me, It wasn't dangerous and scary like being out on the streets, I wasn't freezing my arse off trying to pick-up some drunk punter who might give me a social disease, but I was still being used. I didn't have any rights, or freedom, and I certainly couldn't say “no!” All in all, my childhood was really down the toilet and not one of the guys who'd used me gave a toss about Me! They just wanted my body, or to be specific, my See You Next Tuesday and my Bum! Oh, and my Gub!

But at least I got regular meals and his flat was nicely decorated and there was this huge free-standing bath-tub and I could have lots of real soapy soaks. And when he was out I could sleep or watch TV or videos or read any of his books, so in a way I was able to educate myself, although if you've been fucked non-stop for four or five hours, you're head's mince and you just want to sleep. So I can't say I honestly did a lot of self-improvement.

The truth is for all the time since I'd left home, what I mostly did was get fucked. Day in, day out, by lots of men. Old, Young, Black, White, Brown, Yellow, Scots, English, Pakistani, African, American service-men on a pub crawl, Football fans out for a shag, Stag parties with the Groom putting it up a wee lassie the night before he gets wed, I'd been someone's birthday present from his pals, someone's retirement present from his colleagues, even someone's productivity bonus after a good quarter's sales figures. I'd had all sorts, and sizes and shapes of cocks inside me, been filled with cum, showered with cum, pissed on by a group of Bankers all high on coke! And I accepted whatever happened to me. Even the dogs. And in a way I felt closer to the dogs than to the Men, cos they were just being used to entertain the men exactly the same as me. That was all I was. A bitch.

 

I sometimes wonder why so many men want very young girls – or boys. They call it Paedophilia, which literally means child-love. Which sounds fine and good. But they don't love children the way mothers and fathers are supposed to, caring for them and nurturing them, teaching them about the world and how to grow and develop their skills and abilities and be happy and part of the society they live in. These particular men, or at least a lot of them, or of the ones I was abused by, don't do any of that. What they really are, are Child Users, they maybe aren't able to relate to adult women, or they can pretend to, while also having a part of their life where they do things to kids. A bit like the men who used to get married although they were actually gay, but they managed to hide it away, to act like loving husbands, maybe even fathers, while their real preference was for other men, and sometimes that stayed hidden all their lives, and sometimes it came out. No pun intended.

And I think the men who like women, or at least girls who have been through puberty, to be smooth and shaved, really want them to look pre-pubescent.

I saw the movie about Effie Gray and John Ruskin and then read a bit about them. He had never seen

a woman's private parts before his wedding night, and at that time, in 19^th century England, art – paintings, sculptures – didn't show pubic hair, so he never knew of such a thing. Or so it seems. Maybe no-one showed him any pornographic photographs. But anyway, he was so horrified by what he saw that he was unable to consummate the marriage. And she later married Millais, who was fine about hairy pubes and they had lots of kids. But Ruskin later formed an interest in a young girl called Rose La Touche, although I don't think anything happened between them. I suppose lots of people’s lives have been blighted because of some kind of hang-up or lack of knowledge or understanding.

Fuck me, I amn't a psychologist or anything like that and sometimes my fingers just run away with me and I type lots more than I ever meant to!

Troo Fizz: I quite liked being with Des, he was nicer to me than my previous owner, but I spose I kept hoping that I might meet someone who loved me. Des didn't. I think he liked me but I know he didn't love me. He enjoyed fucking me and so did his friends, but none of them loved me. And that was what I wanted, to be with someone who actually loved me for myself, not just my body or what they could use it for. But how? At 13 I wasn't an adult, was I? And no-one seemed to be prepared to let me be a child. If Des found another kid he fancied more than me, what would he do? Just dump me? Or sell me back to Titch? Or someone else? It just wasn't right and it wasn't fair!