Chapter 3: Samantha Zeek's Rough Life

Ten years ago Sam was going to college (Cal Poly) while living with her sponsor when they had a foolish spat. They argued during the car ride from San Luis Obispo to LA with her sponsor getting so upset he left Sam on the dock when he departed on a sailboat for the South Pacific. All she had was the skimpy outfit she was wearing.

At the time Sam’s mother was living with a crooked California Highway Patrol cop who figured Sam could “spread her legs and help Mom with the rent” whenever he needed his jollies and Mom was unavailable. Sam was not interested in getting porked by the cycle cop, so she knocked on Marta’s door.

Marta and Sam had been neighbors when Sam was a child, long before she entered Cal Poly at 16. Marta took the skinny 20-year old in to help the cook for a few hours a day. Right off Sam also got us hooked up with AOL (this was 1998) and opened a new world for Marta. Marta sent a recommendation to the Patron, who got a wire strung for the service as well as the farm’s first telephones. I was 18 that summer; wee shared the same roof for about two months.

There were a lot more hours in a day than the cook needed. Sam was eager for other activities. Marta’s three indians - Qwit and a married couple - were glad to help the smart skinny girl who was curious and had no innocence to her. They trained her body, sometimes for ten hours a day, at skills for both the day job and night work. All three indians used her every night - it was no hardship for any of them - and I admit I shared the pleasure of her service when I was at home and had the energy. Toad and his friends also dropped over for friendly gang-bangs that Sam loved putting out for. Marta also got in on the action, trading pussy-licking sessions with Sam on Sunday evenings. That was always a special time for us; the two of them held each other, on the sides in a 69 position, licking away while I fucked whatever holes called to me. Sam liked getting it regular from the indians a lot better than what she got from the asshole moneybags who was paying for her top-drawer education. The indians all enjoyed the teaching exercise a great deal and gave her the first cuts on her flesh - an intricate design on one hip. But even by my standards she and I were not especially close.

At the urging of Sam’s mother the cop spent a little time trying to find her, but when he came across Toad’s name on the title to the house he knew better than to pursue it. There were too many ways a crooked cycle-cop could die or wind up in prison - or worse. Toad was known to have a place in Mexico, and the border was easier to cross before 9-11.

When Sam’s sponsor came back from his boat trip - I suspect there was a mutiny as the asshole flew back 10 weeks after he left while the boat followed almost a year later - he invoked Sam’s contract and took her back to his San Luis Obispo mansion to finish her last graduate semester at Cal Poly. After that she owed his corporation the customary 7 years employment as a well-paid computer geek and part-time bed-warmer. (There were 6 or more other girls sharing the night duty, and each other at the mansion.) The education and tech toys were really what she wanted in life, as an employee Sam had access to the bleeding edge of computer tech.

The rich guy died under violent circumstances (I did not do it) three years later, he was naturally arrogant and pissed off the wrong bad hombre. Sam and the other girls in the mansion were collateral damage; that night she started with a decidedly pro-forma rape. The half-dozen attackers intended a gang-rape, but there were more women than rapists, and Sam was not the most attractive, so she suffered one quickie and that was it. A former centerfold attracted the most attention from the attackers, she was used, continually, often by two or three at a time, until they were all exhausted.