I can’t say that I’ve ever been a classy lady; I’m more of a white trash whore. That doesn’t mean I can’t conduct myself accordingly when it’s necessary. The other day a very wealthy family strolled into my little truck stop diner, and I couldn’t help but notice the way the father was staring at me like he wanted to bend me over his table and fuck my brains out right in front of his wife and brats.
When I gave him his receipt, I wrote my number real small on the back. I saw him discreetly stick it in his pocket, and he called me a few days later. Oh I dressed up in my finest black dress, with the most beautiful heels I owned. I presented myself as such a proper lady instead of a slut. He took me out to dinner, and then we went to an upscale hotel room. What he wanted me to do wasn’t upscale though.
He gave me some of the finest Colombian cocaine that’s ever graced my nose, and then bound me to the bed where he proceeded to carve tiny words into my skin with a stainless steel scalpel. I must have been in there for at least two days, but he kept the do not disturb sign on the door and a gag in my mouth.
I realized after the first day and nobody was coming to help me. Between scarring me, writing words like beautiful, skank, fat ass, wet pussy, slut, he was fucking me and making me suck him off until he emptied his balls into my throat.
So this is what acting like a proper lady got me, being called out for what I really was; a lot lizard prostitute who would do anything for her fix. I finally passed out, and when I woke up I was in the back of a moving van. I heard him on the phone talking about dog crates on a plane to Ireland, and that he had a nice new bitch to add to his lot.
Amara
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