Chapter 9: Pimping Nikki

Nikki and I reached an understanding that night. She could buy all the nice clothes she wanted with her newfound wealth as long as she salted twenty percent away in a college fund. And she could wear her new wardrobe whenever she was working or when we went out together, but she had to start dressing appropriately for school. No more miniskirts cut up to the crotch, no more gaudy make-up. Just regular schoolgirl attire.

Business was brisk after that first night. Nikki's john gave her his business card listing all the Saturdays he'd be in town for the next six months. Saturday was the only night of the week I didn't have to see Kimmy, and it was the only night Nikki's parents would let her have sleepovers. Nikki was using the cover story that she was staying with her friend Megan. Megan's mother and father went out every Saturday night and were seldom home before one. If Nikki's parents phoned, Megan told them Nikki was in the washroom. Then she would ring Nikki on her cell, and Nikki would return her parents' call tout de suite.

I became curious about Nikki's little helper Megan. Nikki said she was fourteen and very cute. I made a mental note to have Nikki introduce us. After all, one could never know too much young stuff.

Sometimes it was inconvenient for Nikki to answer her cell phone, especially if she was riding a big cock. Her johns were very understanding, though, and she always made it up to them in a big way.

Word spread quickly that Nikki was a terrific fuck. Initially I had a tough time convincing a few johns to screw a fourteen-year-old—all right, yes, she was only thirteen, but I didn't tell the johns that. It helped that she looked twenty-two, and it didn't hurt that I gave the johns fraudulent receipts so they could write the cost of the date off their taxes or submit it on their expense reports.

Every Saturday Nikki came to my place around four (earlier if she wanted a warm-up fuck), entering through the backyard gate to avoid prying eyes. While it was impossible for anyone to see over my fence, I warned Nikki that Kimmy had a view of my backyard from her upstairs bedroom window, and Nikki started wearing long hooded parkas and sunglasses so that even if Kimmy did see her she wouldn't recognize her.

As soon as Nikki was in the house she headed upstairs. I had converted the spare room into a dressing-room and make-up studio, outfitting it with a cosmetics station with a large mirror surrounded by bright lamp bars. Nikki kept her clothes and accessories there as well so her parents wouldn't find them. She owned some of the sluttiest, sexiest outfits I had ever seen.

To maintain Nikki's privacy, I installed a lock on the door. When Kimmy asked why it was there, I told her I had sensitive client files inside. She seemed to buy it at the time, although later I think she became suspicious.

After Nikki was all dolled-up, we would leave through the door to the garage. Inside the car she kept her head down (sometimes in my lap, with my bone buried eight inches up her throat) until we cleared the neighborhood. Then we usually got something to eat and started the long drive out to the airport. The trip there was never boring; Nikki sucked my cock the whole way, and invariably I blew my load in her hot little mouth. She always took the time to show me her gooey treat before swallowing it down her hungry young gullet.

I arranged six dates for her per night, one every hour from six until midnight. Sometimes if we were really busy I'd sneak in another two, and we'd go till two a.m. Nikki could have handled more, but I wanted to make sure she got a little rest after each performance. Also, I didn't want her johns to think we were shortchanging them. After all, they were paying $500 a pop for the privilege of fucking her little thirteen-year-old cunt and mouth and ass.

After much discussion, Nikki and I renegotiated my commission back up to 40%, with the understanding that I would pay for the drinks and other amenities and she could keep her tips. On a normal night I made $1,020, $1,600 on a good one, all tax-free. It was a respectable paycheck but not quite good enough to quit my day job.

Nikki was also making money hand over fist. Not only did she get her 60% cut, which amounted to between $1,800 and $2,400 a night, she also got her tips, and she always made tips. Her biggest moneymaker was fucking her johns without condoms. She usually made them pay an extra $200 for that, sometimes only $100 if they were regulars and she really liked them.

I warned her about STDs, but because she was so young I think she thought she was invulnerable. Her excuse to me was that most of her johns were older married men who were probably clean, but I knew the real reason: Nikki was a cum-slut, pure and simple. She loved the taste of cum and loved to feel it spurting up her skinny twat or into her tight brown asshole. Her tips added significantly to her bankroll—most of her johns couldn't pass up the opportunity to blow their loads into one of her fresh holes.

I made Nikki go on the Pill so we didn't have to worry about pregnancy. I also made sure she took an HIV test once a month, though I knew it took six months to get a true result. As an added precaution I screened all of Nikki's new johns personally. If anyone seemed to be gay or a hype, or if they looked scraggly or sick, I'd tell them, "No thanks," and send them on their way. After all, money isn't everything, right?

Within a few months we were so busy we couldn't accommodate all of Nikki's clientele on Saturdays, so I convinced her to work Friday nights, too. She talked her parents into letting her stay out till eleven provided she didn't hang out with boys. Luckily they took her at her word.

I picked her up Fridays after school and we went through our routine and arrived at the hotel shortly before six. She'd have four dates lined up from six to ten, and then we'd hurry back to my place where she'd change into her street clothes before I drove her home. The money was fabulous. I was making $2,400 in a good week, and Nikki could earn $3,600 plus at least another $1,200 in tips. I made her hand over 20% of her take religiously, and I deposited it to her college fund and gave her monthly updates.

I soon quit my straight job, although my income from pimping was severely eroded by my atrocious bar tabs and an increasingly expensive cocaine habit.

Things with Kimmy went downhill rapidly. She caught me snorting up in the bathroom one day and started to scold me. I told her I didn't need another fucking mother and that we were through. She was devastated. Kimmy was a sweet kid, but she didn't interest me sexually anymore. Granted, my libido had diminished due to my substance use, but I was also having fabulous sex with Nikki. After our Saturday night gigs we would go back to my place and do some coke, and then I'd fuck her slick cunt and ream her tight ass and shoot gobs and gobs of cum down her hungry throat. I loved screwing her knowing she'd taken on a truckload of guys before me. Sometimes after her last trick I'd tell her not to shower so when we got home I could fuck her slimy twat and deposit my load on top of the last john's. Occasionally she would force me to eat her cooze afterward, and while I didn't like that much, I got used to it.

I loved waking up with my prick buried in her ass, and I often reamed her out while she was still asleep and grogged out from the coke and booze. She was the tightest, horniest cunt I'd ever met.

Nikki and I had been working weekends for a couple of months when I picked her up after school one Friday. She seemed upset.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"My parents shortened my curfew," she said. "I have to be home by nine tonight instead of eleven. And they're threatening to take away my Saturday sleepovers." She gnawed on her lip, waiting for my reaction.

"Shit!" I said. "Why?"

"Well ... my marks on my last report card dropped off. They want to see a significant improvement or they're going to cut off all my privileges."

"What's your average?"

"C+," Nikki said, appearing ashamed.

"Fuck, Nikki! You used to get straight A's. What happened?"

"I don't know, Sam. When I get home on Sundays I'm too tired to do homework, and I usually sleep all day. I'm still worn out on Monday and Tuesday. By Wednesday I'm feeling better, but I only have Wednesday and Thursday night to get my homework done now that I'm working every weekend. And no one wants me as their project partner anymore. They say I'm too unreliable. So I have to do all that work on my own, too." She stared at the floor of the car. "I don't think the booze and the coke are helping, either, Sam."

My face felt like it had been tattooed with a branding iron. "Oh yeah, blame me!" I shouted. "Excuses, excuses! That's all you've got anymore! Just buckle down and do your fucking work! Do you want to screw up this good thing we've got going?"

"I-I don't know, Sam ... I have quite a bit of money saved up, and you said yourself that my college fund is looking good. I was thinking maybe I could—"

"I, I, I. That's all I hear from you anymore. Sure you've got enough money, and sure you're awfully tired, and sure you're this and sure you're that. What about me? I quit my fucking job to manage your career. Don't I count for anything?"

Nikki's eyes welled up. "Oh, Sam, you do count. You know I love you. I just can't deal with school and my parents and everything."

She grabbed a tissue and dabbed at her tears, then gave her pretty nose a blow. I wanted to fuck her right then and there, she looked so damned sexy.

"Maybe I could quit school and move in with you," she said.

"Oh yeah, that'd work. Your parents would have the cops at my door in minutes."

"Well then ... maybe we could get married." Her big brown eyes were pleading.

"You can't get married without your parents' consent, you stupid cunt. Besides, what makes you think I'd want to marry a cocksucking, cum-slut whore like you?" I had reached the point where I wanted to humiliate and degrade this little girl in the worst manner possible.

Nikki burst into tears.

"And don't pretend I corrupted you," I said. "You were sucking cocks and taking them up the ass long before I met you."

I knew that would be the final cold stake through this sweet child's heart.

"Don't tell me what you want!" I said, spitting out the words. "I'll tell you what you want!"

We finished the drive to my house in silence. Nikki got ready quickly and we started out to the airport. We didn't stop for supper, and Nikki made no attempt to get at my cock.

"How about a little blowjob, baby?" I said, trying to break the ice. With a blank expression, Nikki unzipped my fly and pulled out my dick. She worked her mouth up and down it half-heartedly for a minute or two, then started crying again. Her tears dripped onto my cock, and her mouth washed the salty solution away. She started blubbering, which caused her lips to vibrate against my shaft. I loved watching this little adolescent slave-girl give me her best tearful blowjob. It took all my self-control not to push her head down and fuck my dick up her throat.

I felt my stomach muscles tighten, and said, "Here it cums, baby. Time for supper." I fucked my cock up into her face and blasted a heavy wad of sperm to the back of her throat. Shot after thick shot of cream blew into her whimpering mouth as she cried and tried to swallow. She was blubbering so much that sperm bubbles drooled down my dick and onto my pants.

I cuffed the back of her head. "Swallow it, cunt! You're making a fucking mess!"

Nikki worked more proficiently, eating my load, then licking the shot spots off my pants. She straightened up but didn't try to show me her gooey mouthful. Her eyes were red and puffy, her cheeks tear-stained. She looked totally morose.

We pulled into the hotel parking lot at 5:15, and I grabbed my bag of coke and mirror from the glove box and set up a few lines. Nikki said she didn't want any, but I told her it would make her feel better. She took the rolled-up hundred-dollar bill I offered and snorted two lines.

"That's my baby," I said, stroking her hair. "I bet you're feeling better already, aren't you?"

She nodded, leaned her head back, and closed her eyes.

Fifteen minutes later we went into the bar. I told Nikki to freshen up. She looked like shit. As she made her way to the ladies' room, every male eye in the joint was on her. The open back of her slinky red velour dress plunged down to the crack of her ass, and the high hemline barely hid her snatch. A broad band of brown flesh gleamed above each of her white thigh-high stocking tops. On her feet she wore red four-inch heels with narrow straps that wrapped around her thin ankles.

I saw a few guys actually rub their crotches as she walked by their tables. Nikki had single-handedly tripled the business here on Friday and Saturday nights, which was probably why we didn't get hassled by the management.

As she went into the washroom I figured I'd better try to salvage the evening. I walked out to the hotel lobby and rented a suite, then pulled Nikki's date book from my pocket and found the room numbers for her last three johns of the night. Using the courtesy phone, I got hold of two of them and asked them to meet me in my room at six. I told them there'd been a change of plans. They agreed, reluctantly.

I had seen the third john, Nikki's seven o'clock appointment, in the bar earlier. I tore a page from the date book, scrawled the same instructions on it, and folded the page in half. In the bar, I dropped it on the john's table and proceeded to my station against the wall. He opened the note and read it, then looked at me and nodded.