Author's Note: The character of Detective Harry Fairborn first appeared in Desperate Measures, Part 2. The past cases of his mentioned here were from that story and from Bonnie and the Beast. The character of Martha has appeared in several stories. None of these stories need to be read to understand this one.
ONE WEEK LATER
After Lucy tugged the black fishnet tights in place, she reached for the red miniskirt and pulled it on. She'd had the skirt since last year, when she started in the trade, and now the hem rode even higher than originally intended. But Detective Ernie Dancheck, in whose apartment she now resided, didn't mind at all.
It had been a week since he had abducted her following some sweaty intercourse in his car. Lucy remembered him calling her name to show her something just as she was about to exit. Then she woke up here with a throbbing headache and a wrist handcuffed to the rail of a bed. Later, Ernie had informed her that she would no longer be working the streets; instead, she was now his personal whore.
She had begged him to let her go and had even threatened that her mother would come looking for her. Appearing contrite, the detective had offered to ask Lucy's mother permission for her to stay the occasional night. After giving him her address, he left. When he returned, he dumped all of her "working clothes" into the spare bedroom that was now her cell.
"Your whore mother was high as a kite," he had sneered. "So I took your shit without her ever saying a word. Now you can dress like a professional cunt. Speaking of which..."
He grabbed the girl by her long pigtails and pulled her face to his crotch. Cowed, she unzipped him and took him in her mouth. At first, he tried to control her movements by tugging her hair, but the little hooker was frantically sucking as she slid her mouth back and forth along his member. With a sigh, he emptied his balls into the captive nine year-old and held her head in place so she'd have no choice but to swallow his musky, slimy wad.
"This isn't your goddamned alley, whore," he growled. "No spitting on the floor."
And Lucy began to learn the rules of her new existence. He told her she had no place to go and if she tried to run off, he would have her arrested and sent to prison where a lot of big men would gang-fuck her around the clock until she maybe was paroled at age twenty-one. And if she tried to claim that he had done anything to her, well, who were people going to believe? The cop or the whore?
Lucy certainly looked like a whore as she eyed herself in the cheap mirror. Ernie worked the night shift in Vice and laid out the particular outfit he wanted her to wear every morning before he went to bed. When he arose in the afternoon, he wanted her ready to "do her chores".
Through the wall, she heard his clock radio and quickly arranged her hair into the pigtails he liked so much. When Ernie emerged from the bathroom after taking a leak, he grinned when he saw the preteen hooker. The too-short skirt revealed the bottom third or so of her tight rump and his eyes greedily traveled over the trim swell of the child's ass. He slept in the nude and stroked his stiffening dick.
"Show me the goods," he ordered, his voice still creaky with sleep.
Lucy lifted her skirt. Beneath it, she wore no panties. Her white, hairless pussy was lewdly displayed under the back cross-hatch of the fishnet. The mesh was wide enough for her front of her little mound to poke through when she pulled it tight against herself. Licking his upper lip, Ernie eyed the prepubescent slit, looking very captive indeed as it bulged between the netting.
As he was mulling his choice, he chided himself for trying to make one.
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Changes last made on: Friday, April 01, 2016