Chapter 9

Terry used his key to unlock our apartment, two days later. It was Saturday. He carried what looked like a doggie poop bag and five twenty dollar bills. I waited naked on our new couch. He passed me and knocked on Stace’s door. “I got what he promised, and what I promised.”

The door opened and my teen child, red faced from frequent crying fits, peered out blankly. He gave her the money and the bag. “That’s all yours. The house rule doesn’t apply.”

In the bag was a severed little toe, fresh. My terrified daughter dropped it and the money. She hugged Terry.

Donald screamed from the master bedroom. We had bound him to the bed. “He’s got the addiction bad. Even a small dose might kill him.” Terry had explained. “Gotta let it burn down for a few days.”

“I’ll take care of you, baby.” Terry patted Stace’s behind.

“I hate you.”

“You got reason, but it don’t matter. If you want more money, you’ll work when I tell you.”

I cringed seeing my daughter embrace our enemy, but when I learned what was in the bag I thanked him. He told me after sticking me on his hard prick and fucking a fresh load of cum into my cunt. After cleaning him with my mouth, I mounted him again and thanked him. “Our mess is all your fault. I hate myself for not being able to send you to the hell you deserve. I hate you more, but you’re the only strength this family has.” I lay across his fat torso and hugged him for warmth. His arms embraced me.

“It won’t happen again.” He lied.

“Will you be living here from now on, or just check in on your cunt and baby whore, from time to time?” I said it as sarcastically as I could.

He slapped my bruised, naked ass. “Fuck if I’m going to commit to anything.”

“Ow!” I nestled my face into his curls of chest hair. It smelled less rank. Only two days had passed since he showered. I wished I had power to get him in that cramped bath, every day. “I’m going buy you some new clothes.”

He grunted and pushed, rolling me off his girth, popping me off his cock, and dumping me on the carpet. “OWW! What the hell?”

“You’re not my fucking mamma.” Terry groaned and heaved himself up. He pulled on his pants and shirt. Then, with difficulty, he stood.

I felt for fresh injuries before crawling on the couch.

“Get off that!” He pulled my arm, and I landed ass to floor again.

I yelled. “Fuck!”

“You still have to pay for that couch. “He struggled for the excuse. “I don’t want your dripping pussy touching it.”

“I’ll never pay for it!” I cried. “I don’t make enough to feed my family and pay the credit card interest on three thousand dollars. Our card was for emergencies only!”

“You’’ll do the right thing.” He lumbered out of the apartment.

Stace found me in tears on the living room carpet. She sat on the couch. “Here.” She held out five hundred dollars.

“I can’t take that, Stace.” I grimaced. “I’ll lose you if I take that.”

“You’ll never lose me, Mom. No matter where that bastard takes me, you’ll never lose me.” She pushed the bills into my hands.

I rose to sit next to her.

“No, Mom!” She pushed me away. “He’ll know!”

After that mysterious night when he summoned me to the flophouse, I checked the apartment for cameras or microphones. It was a stupid thing to do, but he had known when I cracked. I realized I hadn’t been in the house. I had been walking. I looked at my phone.

I went to our cheap, notebook computer. Stace used it for school. The battery had died, but the power cord still worked. I looked up spying on cell phones. The old phones, like mine, could be set to listen even when folded and sleeping. What bum could afford that kind of surveillance? The kind that could afford to give away heroin, the answer came to me. I didn’t understand it, but if figuring it out would save my family, I had to be the strong one.

Before the banks closed that Saturday, I deposited seven hundred dollars into my savings account, to spend on the credit debit, which fortunately wouldn’t bill me for three weeks.

The next week passed slowly. Terry stopped by once, to dose Donald and throw a quick fuck into me, in the kitchen. He spoke with Stace in private. She told me after he left, and after I hid my cellphone in my husband’s sock drawer.

“He gave me fifty dollars to buy a little girl dress.” Stace’s hand trembled. “He said there’s a woman who will pay three hundred dollars to strip it off of me.”

The woman wanted, specifically, a Sunday dress, the kind a ten year old might wear. Stace was much taller than any ten year old, but she found one that fit well enough. The ankle high dress barely covered my daughter’s knees.

Following his orders, she donned it before dawn, the next Sunday. Terry sneered at me, when he took my baby girl away in the wee hours. My heart sank. My pussy clenched at a fat, black dick that wasn’t there. I masturbated shamefully, imagining a horrible woman tearing off my daughter’s new dress.

Terry walked Stace to a Baptist church. The woman must have had access. She let my girl into the chapel area, but locked out Terry. The sun rose promising on the horizon.

Stace looked at the perverted woman. She was black, older but not middle aged. She wore a church dress too, lavender with a silver pin. Her earrings were tiny sand dollars. She wasn’t much taller than Stace, just by half a head.

The woman looked over my daughter. “You’ll do, Sweetie.” She pulled six, fifty dollar bills out of her purse and set them on a pew. “Those will be yours when I’m satisfied.” Her hands trembled when they reached for the top buttons. “I knew a white girl in Sunday school. We would play sometimes. It was all very innocent, but I can’t forget how it made me feel.” She fumbled one button undone. “I’m glad you don’t have much for breasts, Honey.” She unbuttoned a second before cupping her hands on Stace’s chest.

My daughter kept quiet, trying to ignore what was happening.

The woman slapped her face! “Don’t you judge me, you little cunt!”

“I wasn’t! I never did this before.”

The woman’s other hand caught Stace’s cheek with a loud, SMACK! “Hush!” The woman unbuttoned the top of my daughter’s dress. “Good. You got the training bra.”

Stace didn’t say the tight thing really hurt. She didn’t want another slap.

“Oh, you have nice skin.” The lady sniffed my daughter’s cleavage. She shuddered.

Had the lady orgasmed? Stace couldn’t stop her face from grimacing, but she blanked it before the woman noticed.

“Barbara was a pretty doll, naked.” The woman kissed my daughter’s pert nipples. Her hand reached up under the Sunday girl dress. “I’m going pull off your little panties.” Another hand joined it and they found the undergarment’s waist band. She tugged them down to Stace’s ankles. Then the lady bent to sniff the crotch panel. Her body convulsed and she groaned. “MMMMnnnngggghhhh!!!”

Stace couldn’t believe something so simple could bring a grown woman to orgasm. She assumed men were far more perverted.

“Sweetie, are you a virgin?” She looked up from the panties. “Don’t lie to me, child.” She threatened with a palm.

“I don’t have a hymen anymore, but I never did it with a boy.” She tried to give an answer that would earn another slap.

“I have to taste it to be sure.” The woman looked fierce. Her hands lifted the pleated hem. “Sit on the pew and push your slit forward for your auntie.”

“You’re not suppose to touch me.” Stace sniffed. She didn’t like this lady.

The slap that followed was the hardest yet! “Don’t tell me what I’m paying three hundred dollars for, you silly tart! Whatever Terry told you wasn’t what I told him.”

“OW!”

“Hush! or I’ll slap your puss.” She gripped Stace’s hips and forced her next to the closest pew. “Now, sit and be a good little girl!”

Stace sobbed, but she sat. This wasn’t the deal he had told her. She pushed her pelvis to the edge of the pew.

The lady threw the hem up to Stace’s waist. She pushed her face between her legs and sniffed. “Barbara’s was sweeter.” She swiped her tongue up my daughter’s slit. “But you’re not bad. I guess you might be a virgin, at least enough to imagine it. Pussies get more sour every time a rotten dick goes into them!”

Clearly the woman thought all dicks were rotten. Stace sniffed back her bout of tears. The hot tongue kept lapping her puss. Her loins twitched from the sensations.

“Ooohhhh.” The lady moaned. “If only you were Barbara.” She complained, but she kept licking my daughter’s cunt. She sucked the juices that started to flow from Stace’s vulva.

She couldn’t stop that. Stace told herself. Her sex tingled from the experienced tongue. She felt her inner wetness succumb to the woman’s stimulation. It felt wrong. If the bastard with a knife hadn’t threatened her, sucking him might not have felt worse than a woman sucking her. She didn’t dare tell the woman how wrong it felt.

The lady kept licking and sucking. She occasionally moaned. Her hand reached up to Stace’s naked torso and rubbed all around, front and back and sides, while she gave head to my daughter.

Stace felt her sex tremble. The woman was too experienced to miss it.

“Let Auntie make you cum, Girl.” Her hands continued to roam Stace’s body, lightly massaging every part.

I don’t want that, my daughter told herself. Stace couldn’t stop the tingles from becoming tremors. Her hips twisted and twitched. The hot mouth glued to her dripping cunt never stopped. It only adjusted postion and sucked in my daughter’s turgid clit.

“OOOHHH!!!” Stace cried! She grabbed the woman’s head and pulled it into her crotch.

“AAAAAAAAA!!!” The lady screamed into her cunt, swatting away my daughter’s hands. She bolted up and slammed her hand across my daughter’s face! “STUPID BITCH!” She struck Stace a second time, with better aim and more force. The blow knocked my daughter off of the pew. “No you don’t! Not in the house of our Lord!” The lady pulled Stace’s ear, hauling my hurt daughter painfully to her feet! “How DARE you force my head!” She slapped Stace again! “Out with you!”