Slaves of the Billionaire Read Online Free PDF Page A

air.”
    I obeyed. I thought he would ram it in, but instead he eased it in, an inch at a time. I could hear him breathing heavily. I knew he was excited.
    “Did any of the guards at the jail rape you? Did they want you to suck their cock for drugs?”
    “Yes.”
    “Tell me.”
    “One of the guards wanted me to blow him. I wanted some marijuana. So he told me to suck his cock and he would get me a joint.”
    “Was it a big cock?”
    The dildo was deep inside my ass. “Yes, he had a big cock.”
    Jon started panting. “Fuck, that’s hot.” He moved the dildo in and out. “I used to arrest hookers and promise to release them if they licked my balls. You want to lick my balls, trash?”
    “Yes.”
    He pulled the dildo out. “Get over here.” I got up and stood before him. “Get on your knees.” He lifted his hard cock to expose his full balls. “Lick them like the dog you are.” His balls were cleanly shaven. I licked hungrily. I was a dog. Not a delicate kitty lapping at a delicacy. I was a dog attacking meat. This is what I am, I thought. A dog. Drake is kind and sweet, but I never had an orgasm with him. He was too gentle. Too considerate. I needed something harder. Something awful and delicious at the same time.
    Jon was moaning and I felt power spreading through me. I was being degraded and it caused pleasurable heat to course through me.
    “You like that?” I asked.
    “Oh, I like it very much. Take off your uniform. Let me see your breasts.”
    I complied. Jon smacked my breasts and bit my nipples. I yelped and moaned.
    “Such a bad girl. Fuck, you’re hot. Your breasts are huge. Naughty puppies. I want them bruised. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
    “Yes, oh yes.”
    Jon pushed me on the bed, squeezed my breasts together and then slid his cock between them. He thrusted a few times and then came over my chest and chin.
    I dressed and didn’t look at Jon. I went to the door to leave.
    “Here,” he said. He put money into my hand. “It’s two thousand dollars. Leave my son and granddaughter alone. You’re good enough to beat, but you’re not good enough for my son. Leave Hicksville. Don’t come back here. Get on with your life.”
    I grabbed the money. A lump formed in my throat and I couldn’t speak. I found my way out of the house and noticed the pink bike on the lawn.
    “Bye, Drake and Darlene,” I mumbled.
    With the money, I moved to Queens and got a job as a stripper at Silver Snatch. Every stripper there had a theme. DeeDee posed as a little girl and brought out giant suckers on the stage to lick while she swished in her white stockings and pigtails. My theme was vampiric. I called myself Vanessa Vampire. I dyed my hair black, wore blood red lipstick and dark latex. I wasn’t popular. My biggest draw, as the owner told me, was my “big floppy tits”. He scoffed at my routines and outfits.
    One night, I was dancing to electronic pop and noticed that none of the men in the audience wer e watching me. Men not paying attention meant no tips. I got frustrated and stomped off to the dressing room. I took a pair of scissors from my dresser table. I then went back on stage and cut myself. Not deep, but blood bubbled up. The music had died. I looked up and noticed I was finally being watched. I licked the blood and then wiped my arm across my breasts. I flung the scissors and jumped onto the stripper pole. The music started again and I finished my routine. A strange thing happened when I cut myself. I felt sexy. Cutting myself released the frustration and the blood made me conscious of my body. My routine was no longer mechanical. It had become sensual. I got a smattering of claps and a grandpa type gentleman in a golf shirt stuck a twenty dollar bill in my G-string. That was my first tip in two weeks.
    “That was twisted and sexy baby,” he said as he winked at me.
    As I was cleaning the blood from my body in the dressing room, Trent Raider walked in. I didn’t know who he was, but