Chapter 1

I never saw myself living in Inchwood for long ... I was a small town girl at heart with small town dreams living just outside the big city. I was never very happy with my home life after my mom walked out, so I buried my face in every book I could find and focused on getting good grades, hoping to make something of myself without much of an idea of what that even was. I did like the idea of maybe owning a small business, maybe becoming a doctor and opening my own practice, but I always wanted to stay local. It’s funny how thing’s change, especially when you start looking like your mom in your teens, and you can only take your drunk father mistaking you for her at night so many times before something has to change. Being a bookworm kept my socializing limited so I didn’t have too many people to really say goodbye to when I graduated, and once I had that diploma I made tracks and never looked back.

My early adult life was filled with waitress gigs and whatever else I could hold onto in Inchwood, but being from a small place made me a bit of an outcast; I’ll admit, I was never really proud of the way I let my bosses take advantage of me, but what else could I do? Maybe you’re not from around here, so let me explain. The city of Inchwood is a huge place full of ways to get paid but almost no room for you to seek out your hopes and dreams ... that’s part of why I never wanted to live here. The reputation is that it’s like a blackhole, sucking people in with promises of a decent paying job without any real exit plan, so those who get pulled in rarely ever left. Inchwood had become so overpopulated and inescapable that you had to take whatever was handed to you just to afford some shitty apartment and enough food to survive; the only other choice was the streets. In my early twenties I would have let every man in Inchwood wearing a suit fuck me to keep myself off the streets, and as the years rolled by I’m loathe to admit I pretty much did just that. It got so bad that the owner of the restaurant I worked at the time started ‘lending me out’ to his friends and associates in the hopes of a small bonus on my paycheck. One of those men took a liking to me.

“You really are my favorite, Annie...” His booze breath cut through the thick plume of cheap cologne he wore entirely too much of, leaving a thin film of that disgusting scent on my neck with his tongue. His name was Bill Kreger, a long time friend of my old boss and a low level executive at Inchwood’s biggest corporation, BARD. Bill was not an attractive man, something I think he knew since most of his sweaty clothes stayed on during sex, but his impressive girth was something I derived a little pleasure from occasionally. Beer gut crammed so tightly between my thighs it felt as if they would break, my slender wrists bruising from the clammy mitts he called hands using me as support for his heft, he repeatedly barreled into me again and again until he finally finished and, mercifully, collapsed to the side of me. It was in this moment, one so similar to so many we shared before, that he decided to offer me a job as his secretary at BARD. To think, I’d put myself under bill so many times it gave me a chance to be under him in an entirely different way, but opportunities like this were rare and I’d have taken almost any chance to leave what I had behind ... even giving up an unborn child.

Over the next several years I made quite a name for myself at BARD, and I was making more money than I ever thought I would in Inchwood; I fucked and sucked my way through the corporation all the way to the top ... but besides the paycheck it was a lot less glamorous than it sounds. I was getting closer to thirty, working directly under the BARD CEO Robert J. Bay, but it was little more than a glorified secretary position that only saw respect for PR purposes. Still, I had gotten further than most girls from the outskirts do, and I had finally started living a pretty comfortable life. Before today, if I could have told you I felt guilty for the things I had done to get where I was or the people I had walked over to do it I would have jumped at the chance, but part of survival is overlooking those things, and I threw out my humanity years ago ... Sadly it takes some reality to really make you look back on your life choices, and as I stood on the outside of Mr. Bay’s door overhearing him talking about how he was getting tired of my dingy blonde hair, my underwhelming breasts, or me starting to “look my age” all I could think about was the women who had been thrown away to make room for me in the same way I was looking to face. That bastard and his buddies actually laughed about it.

Desperate and hurt I did the only thing I could think of, and the only thing I’m starting to realize I have a talent for ... I burst into his office, locked the door, and got ready to prove to him I had a lot more to offer than I was getting credit for. Mr. Bay and his five associates sat around their expensive round table and watched in an array of amusement and pity as I stripped off my clothes and made my way to each of them, forcefully kissing my boss’ lips with the most passion I could muster and jerking his hands to my ass. Two writhing, worm-like tongues danced in a slimy tango within our lip cage, his firm hands squeezing my flesh so hard it hurt while my own expertly extracted his throbbing meat from its confinement. Without hesitation, amidst the hoots and hollers of his friends, Mr. Bay pulled me onto his lap and penetrated me to the base, our kiss disguising the grimace of pain my face betrayed from such abrupt and dry entry, and my hips feverishly drove into his own. The two of us had played this game countless times, apparently enough for him to grow bored of me, but I was only getting started. Breaking my lips away from those of my boss I hiked up my ass towards the other men in the room and began displaying the intercourse between my legs to them, turning to look over my shoulder seductively and beckoning them closer with a finger. First one and then another came to my sides, the one looker of the bunch hungrily devouring my kiss while the ugliest began to play with my exposed breasts and forced his manhood into my grip. Cum erupted deep inside me with a heavy grunt from my boss, and immediately I was torn from his lap and thrown back onto the table, the handsome one dragging my ass to the edge as he unsheathed his blade and drove it deep inside, Mr. Bay’s slop gushing and gurgling out around him onto the floor below.

As I lay there being ravaged by the first truly good dick I could remember, another of my boss’ associates made his way to the edge of the table; I was angled so that his angled meat could be shoved down my throat while the other continued to fuck me, the two of them using me like a cheap toy. One after another the men came to me and used my body until they had relieved themselves on or inside me, often two or three at a time and most more than once. I tried to deny what I was doing, and when that didn’t work I tried to convince myself it was more than some sad attempt to remain relevant to the only person keeping me off the streets ... and my teen years rushed back to me. Those nights when my drunken father would force his way onto me, driving himself inside and calling me my mother’s name. I did now what I did back then, and lost myself in my own mind, dreaming of what life could be instead of what it was. If I told you it got rid of the pain I would be lying, but it made it survivable enough for me to get through it.