Kiri was dreaming when the manager started pounding on the door.  She had the dead bolt in, but he was threatening to call a locksmith or even the cops.  It was after eleven, he was saying, and she hadn’t paid for the next week’s rent on the fleabag room with the ripped mattress and banged-up metal furniture.

            She didn’t want to wake up.  During the night she’d somehow managed to shed her clothes, and was now twisting her sticky body in the sheets.  She was on her belly, pushing her cunt down onto a conveniently placed lump.  In the dream a man was behind her taking her anally while another was sticking his cock up into her from underneath.  Her skin was fiery red from where they’d whipped her.  Whipped on her buttocks, back and thighs until she had no choice but to obey their lascivious orders.

            “Take it,” the man underneath was saying, grasping the ring mounted in the center of the thick leather collar encircling her neck, forcing her to look in his eyes and acknowledge that he was about to come inside her.

            Kiri did so and to her horror she saw it was him—that despicable rapper, T-Time, she’d met the day before.

            He laughed at her, with that snarl of his.  “It’s me on top, too,” he was telling her.  “I’m both.  Remember, you belong to me.  Never forget that.”

            “For the last time,” the manager bellowed.  “Open the frigging door!”

            Kiri stumbled out of bed, the sheet in tow.  She’d barely managed to cover herself by the time she’d opened the door.  It hadn’t occurred to her to put on anything, any more than it had to disobey the man’s order to let him in.

            The manager looked her up and down with a mixture of lust and disgust.  “A hundred twenty bucks,” he said, his eyes finally coming to rest on her breasts.  “For the next week.”

            Kiri tucked the sheet up under her arms, blocking his view.  “I can get it for you today.  From my boss.”

            “You’re lying.  You ain’t gonna get me shit today.”

            “I will, I promise.”

            The man looked behind him in the hall.  When he was sure no one was looking, he said.  “I might be able to give you a day extension.”

            By his tone, she could tell he was offering to trade her time for sex.  The thought of giving herself to this pock-covered, pony-tailed man made Kiri sick, but would he be any worse than her boss, Smiley? Surely her boss would take as least as much out of her, probably a whole lot more. 

            “I won’t fuck you,” he said, his eyes riveted hungrily on her bosom.  “I just want those tits.  Ten minutes, to do what I want with ‘em.  Nothing heavy-duty.  A little slapping, then I come on them.  Either that, or your arse is on the street.”

            Kiri saw the sheet being lowered by her own hands, as if she were in a movie,  watching herself.  “Ten minutes,” she agreed, knotting it around her waist.  “That’s it.”

            The manager licked his lips, like a small boy.  “Over there,” he pointed, still not making eye contact.  “Kneel on the floor, hands behind your back.”

            Kiri did as she was told.

            “They’re lovely,” he commented, his manner suddenly transformed as though he were a highbrow critic in an art gallery.  “Really precious.”

            Kiri winced as he stood over her, his hands kneading her mounds like dough.  It took every ounce of willpower not to interfere as this pathetic little man abused her.

            “Do you like your tits?” he asked, pausing now to pinch her nipples.  “They’re real, aren’t they?”

            “You’re hurting me,” she cried, her head thrown back in anguish.

            “Are you questioning me?”  He let go of her, a frown on his face. 

            Kiri lowered her head, not liking the look in his eyes.  “Forgive me,” she whispered.

“I can forgive you,” he acknowledged, “but I still have to punish you.”  The manager delivered a pair of short, efficient slaps, one to each of Kiri’s breasts.  The brutal precision of his assault indicated he’d done this sort of thing before.

The pain was terrible, all the more so because it was so sexual.  Twice more he repeated the attack, drawing tears from her eyes each time.

“You’re a little slut,” he informed her, his hands working at his pants. “You like men to look at your tits and you need to be disciplined for that.  You make men hard, and you have to pay.”

The manager told her to hold up her breasts to him as he masturbated over her.  When he got close to the end, he made her pinch her own nipples, as hard as she could.  Kiri moaned in discomfort, her loins burning.  She needed to be filled, bad.

            “You’re a bad girl,” the manager slurred, saliva dribbling from his mouth.  “Very bad.”  He spurted himself now, all over her tits and belly. 

For a little guy, he produced a lot of the stuff, big white gobs of it.  He told her to rub it on her chest while he continued to stroke himself.  After a few more minutes of watching her, he seemed to lose interest.

“One more day,” he reminded her as he fiddled with his zipper.  “You just bought one more day.”

A feeling of dread gripped Kiri as she realized just how few her options were.  Did she dare go back and get her purse now from the audition hall where she left it the day before?  If that horrid producer Anton were there or that arrogant rapper, T time, she’d never be able to endure the embarrassment.  Worse still, she could run into Vinny. Boy, had she been stupid of buy his line! On the other hand, the last of her money was in that purse. Without some cold hard cash she’d be sleeping in an alley. Either that, or spreading her legs for Smiley.

            Kiri shifted her thighs at the thought of sex.  She was still deeply aroused despite her predicament.  Having the manager’s sperm all over her made her feel extra slutty.  Sliding her fingers down to that familiar spot, she found her nether lips slippery and inviting.  She’d do anything for a cock right now, especially that Detective Owens’ cock.   He was exactly the man to help her now.

            Wait, there was an idea.  She could call Tracy Owens for help.  He’d get her purse for her.  Strong, capable Detective Owens. Sexy, dark haired blue-eyed Detective Owens.  The man who’d beaten Vincent the bodyguard to a pulp and saved her honor, and all on his off duty time, on the way to get Chinese. A tinge of regret surged as Kiri remembered his kink invitation. 

            He’d wanted her to eat with him.  And she’d told him she wasn’t hungry.  Well, she was hungry now.  Hungry for an orgasm, she thought, snatching her dildo off the bureau.  Ever since she was a young teenager, Kiri had played with herself to relieve stress.  It was the fastest, cheapest getaway she knew of from life’s heartaches. Sometimes she used her fingers, but when she really needed to get off, she had the dildo, a thick, rubbery one, flesh-colored, the exact model of a healthy, generously-proportioned penis.  It vibrated, too.  Kiri liked this kind because it was raunchier.  Closing her eyes, Kiri began to lick it.

            It was large and she’d have to make it very wet so it would fit inside her tight little pussy.  Vincent Dane was nearly this size.  She’d been deep throating him when Owens came, repressing the urge to gag so as to give him the most pleasure.  She knew she had no choice.  She had been naked, on her knees, utterly helpless, the juices slick between her legs as he contemplated her request.

            Kiri put the shaft between her lips now as she thought of how she’d shamed herself last night.  She, Kiri Renfrew, Miss Lancaster County and second runner-up Miss Iowa, not to mention Miss Teen Queen two years running at the Oakley Mall, had begged a man to fuck her in an alley, on a cardboard box as opposed to the damp, stinking concrete.  And she would have been fucked, one way or the other, if not for the sudden appearance of the blue eyed cop.  He’d said she was in shock, but the truth was, she was still super heated, with a sexual neediness that frightened her greatly.

            Had Detective Owens wanted, he could have had Kiri himself.  She hadn’t dressed at first because, deep down, she wanted the handsome, rugged officer to see her as a sex object, a toy designed for his pleasure.

            A moan escaped Kiri’s throat as she mouth fucked the rubber cock, imagining it to be Tracy’s.  What if he had commanded her to suck him, in return for his saving her?  What if he’d told her she must service him or go to jail and that afterwards she would have to be his slut, allowing him to use her young body for his pleasure?  What if Detective Owens had told her that she belonged to him now and that if he wanted, he could loan her out or give her away?  What if he kept her under discipline, punishing her nude body if she disobeyed him in any way?

            Kiri plucked the cock from between her greedy lips.  She needed it elsewhere, needed it to fill her and dominate her senses.  Lowering herself to the floor, on her back like a whore, she opened herself as far as she could, then thrust the thing into her throbbing hole.  Arching her back, digging her heels into the carpet she offered herself, surrendering to the inanimate shaft as though it were a strong, uncompromising man. 

            She couldn’t get it deep enough to satisfy her; couldn’t get enough of the kind of feelings she needed.  She knew that a dozen men could take her, and she’d still want more.  Mercilessly, she forced her rubber friend in and out, chafing the lining of her sensitive vagina as she did.  At the same time, she seized her breast in her hands, squeezing it till she winced, her fingernails pricking and ultimately breaking the soft, delicate flesh.

            For some reason, though, she couldn’t come. The gurgles from her throat became moans and finally screams.  But still no orgasm.  Again and again she backed off, regrouped and tried again to push over the top. 

Kiri wanted to cry.  Nothing like this had ever happened to her before. She’d never lacked her secret power to make things all right through self-pleasuring.  Everything up to now had been worked out this way.

            All the fights with her parents, all the times she’d liked boys and they hadn’t liked her.  And when she had to break up with someone, too.  Even the ordeal at the dreadful Gregorians had eventually found its pleasurable end as she imagined herself the men’s sex slave, being commanded to serve them in humiliating ways, having no rights herself, not to clothing, or food, not even the dispensation of her own flesh. 

Somehow, this was different, though.  They’d left her hanging in that alley, physically and mentally, Vincent and Tracy Owens both. For a split second, she thought of calling Owens and spilling her soul to him.  But she knew that would be surrendering her independence.  The man would help her, as her own father would.  The price would be a few lectures, a couple of condescending nods and smiles.  Not much of a price to pay in the scheme of things, Kiri supposed.  But she couldn’t go there now. 

Besides, if the man were kind to her now, if he were in any way solicitous of her needs it would only frustrate her more.  She needed roughness, not talk.  It wasn’t about her feelings, it was about her being able to please a man and in turn to get her own pleasure from the look on his face, from knowing how it made him feel to control her little body, to pose it and penetrate it and, if need be, to punish it, with a slap, a spank or maybe something more terrible still. 

No, kindness was not what she wanted.  She’d tried that route before, with her old boyfriend, Kyle, and it had only gotten her hurt.  Here she’d been the one to give up her precious virginity, to be fucked like a bitch in heat by a pack of dogs—by the Gregorians and all Kyle had cared about was staking his own claim, like she was a fire hydrant, a piece of property. Once he’d gotten what he wanted, he wouldn’t even talk to her anymore.  He’d been worse than her parents, treating her like crap, as if any of it were her own fault.  She’d show them all.  As soon as she made it big as an actress.  As soon as someone recognized her for what she was.

Kiri choked back the tears.  Who was she kidding?  What she needed was more of what she’d just gotten; a temporary fix, someone to make her forget all her pains, everything nasty except for that sweet, sweet sense of degradation that she was coming to crave, coming to find irresistible, like flame for a moth.  That and some cold, hard cash.