WARNING: You must be 18 or over to read this story of nonconsensual oral sex. It involves a teenager and a much older man. If you don’t like such stories, please turn back. I don’t promote girls being trained for prostitution. The type of training featured in this story typically involves rape. And rape is a heinous crime, and the penalty is many years in prison. There is crude language in the story, violence, and fear. This is only a story, fiction, and the characters are fictional. If you do not understand the difference between reality and fantasy, read no more.

The title used is a reference to a specific term for certain pimps, Gorilla Pimps. Rather than making the girl feel he loves them and that they grow dependent on him, the gorilla pimp destroys her self-worth and dignity. Therefore, he reduces the woman (in her mind) to a state of something less than human.

This story begins minutes after Stolen Innocence: Catch and Keep. It is advisable to read it before this one.

It’s Rick’s job to break her...

Destroy her self-worth ... Train her...

Turn her out...

Arvada, Colorado

Saturday, June, 27th 2015

Tina lay crumpled in the darkened trunk. Her world shrunk into the stifling confines of the sheriff’s department cruiser. The claustrophobic space had an unpleasant aroma, like an old pizza gone off or a dead mouse. The persistent hum and vibration of the engine filtered through her body, a constant reminder of the car’s relentless motion.

But where was it taking Tina, naked, bruised, and feeling the weight of the world crushing her? To jail to be exposed to other deputies and other prisoners. A humiliation piled on top of degradation.

She felt each turn in the pit of her stomach. The tires’ rhythmic thrum against the pavement was the ticking of a clock counting down to an uncertain fate. Her cuffed hands were confined behind her back. It was a chilly night, and her limbs were numb from the cold metal and fear. Tina could still taste the salty and savory flavor of his cum in her mouth. The blurred sounds of passing automobiles occasionally pierced her ears. Her mind was convinced she was en route to jail.

A tear streaked down her cheek, lost in the shadows that cloaked her.

As the cruiser decelerated, winding its way into town, Tina’s thoughts churned in tandem with the slowing wheels. Could it be possible that the drugs had been planted in her cutoffs? She cursed her own naivety.

Images of Deputy Sheriff Mansard’s stern face flashed before her. An unsettling thought took root: What if he played a part in this nightmare? The car lurched around corners, and abrupt stops at intersections often caused Tina to slide helplessly on the trunk’s unforgiving surface.

Fear mingled peculiarly with an inexplicable excitement, an uncomfortable arousal borne from the night’s chaos, left her breathless with anxiety, anticipation, a tingley where she shouldn’t have one, and confusion.

The abrupt cessation of movement jolted Tina back to the present. Her senses grappled with the sudden shift. The familiar whine of a garage door resonated through the metal walls that cocooned her, its creaks and groans an ominous prelude to what awaited beyond. For a fleeting twenty seconds, the cruiser crept forward. Its powerful engine echoed in the confined space, mingling with the mechanical dirge of the door’s descent.

Suddenly, the world went still.

The trunk’s release latch clicked, a deafening sound in the silence, and a bright overhead light invaded the darkness. It blinded her. Unable to shield her eyes, Tina squinted as the figure of Deputy Sheriff Mansard appeared, silhouetted against the harsh light. His hands, firm and unyielding, gripped her shoulders, and the strong man hoisted her from the trunk’s depths.

Her bare feet met the cold concrete of the garage floor. The shiny gray cement sent a shiver up her spine. The chill was a stark contrast to the warm moisture inside her pussy.

Why was she turned on by this? It wasn’t right for her to have these sensations.

Rick Mansard loomed over her, his gaze intense and probing. In one fluid motion, he bent to her level, his lips finding hers in an invasive kiss. His tongue thrust into her mouth. It was a show of dominance, their tongues entwining briefly before he withdrew. Drawing out an involuntary response from Tina.

“Mmm,” she gasped.

The chase ended within the confines of her own mouth. She wanted more but couldn’t admit that. The kiss, broken, left them a silence heavy with intention. Lubrication leaked from her, marking the crotch of her tight cutoffs.

She clamped her legs tight together.

Without a word, Rick’s fingers moved to the buttons of Tina’s shorts, deftly freeing them from her hips. The man pushed them off her hips and shoved them downward. The fabric whispered down her legs, pooling at her feet like a discarded secret. The cool air of the garage whisked across her exposed skin. A reminder of her vulnerability under Rick Mansard’s imposing presence.

How can she hate something and crave it at the same time?

With purposeful nonchalance, Rick reached into the cavernous void where she had been confined and extracted a pair of high heels, tossing them carelessly at her feet. Tina gazed at them, wondering what this meant. She wanted the man to kiss her again, touch her, pinche her nipples, gently this time, unlike before.

So incredibly tender and lovingly the way she’d always dreamed it would be.

With a resounding clamor, the trunk slammed shut. It jolted Tina from the haunting reverie of her predicament. She flinched, her heart pounding against her ribcage like a caged bird desperate for freedom.

“Put them on,” he commanded, his voice devoid of warmth.

Balancing precariously, Tina bent awkwardly to slip her feet into the shoes, the leather cold against her skin. Her wrists chafed against the unyielding cuffs, a reminder of the control he held over her. Once shod, she watched as Rick gestured for her to follow, his movements assured and owning every inch of the space around him.

He strode forward and opened the door to his abode—a threshold that seemed to separate two worlds. With trepidation etching lines across Tina’s forehead, she stepped over the threshold after him, her eyes darting around the unfamiliar surroundings.

The flick of a switch bathed the interior in a harsh light, casting long shadows that played tricks on her vision. In the dim glow, Tina’s gaze settled on a figure almost blending into the room’s muted tones. A young woman sleeping on a dog bed. The sight was so absurd it took Tina a moment to process, an unsettling vision that hinted at an untold tale.

Would this woman’s story become hers?

She couldn’t help but notice the prominent collar clasped around the sleeper’s neck. A symbol of restraint and ownership, chilling in its implications. She was a black girl and a slave, Tina thought.

That was wrong.

Rick’s attention turned to a small cabinet, his back momentarily to Tina. He retrieved a remote and placed it within easy reach while his hands rid himself of the weight of his gun and belt. The metallic clicks of lock and key resounded through the silent house, echoing off the walls like a gavel delivering a final verdict.

Then, without warning, Rick pressed down on the thumb button of the remote. There was no hesitation in his action. Only the cold, calculated press of authority asserted itself through technology.

The collar buzzed, sending a jolt of electricity through the girl’s body. She convulsed and twitched and rolled about and tumbled from the bed to the tiled floor. The convulsions stopped as abruptly as they had begun. This left the room in a tense silence punctuated only by the girl’s heavy breathing.

She rose to her feet with grace despite the violence of the moments before.

“Whats ya needs, Daddy? Jus tells me, I’s’ll do it.”

Her voice held a trained timbre of docility that clashed eerily with the fear still lingering in her eyes.

Rick closed the distance between them. His figure loomed above her. She rose on her tippy toes and offered him her lips, open, waiting for him. The intimacy of their kiss was empty of tenderness; it was perfunctory, a transaction of flesh without love or even affection. He pulled away and gestured dismissively towards Tina.

She was a slave dismissed by her master, almost indicating unworthiness.

“This cunt’s my new bitch,” he declared as if introducing one pet to another rather than a person to another person. “You’re taking a trip. Your new Daddy will be picking you up soon.”

“Y-Yes, Daddy,” the girl stammered, casting a venomous glance toward Tina. It was a look that carried the weight of hatred. However, beneath the stare, Tina sensed a current of shared desperation.

“I’s gonna go make money for my new Daddy ... Daddy?”

“He’s paying me good money for your worthless nigger hide, so you better be an earner. Or else, I’ll come there and cut your throat myself.”

“Yes, sirs, I’s’ll be an earner, Daddy. I promise to makes you proud of me.”

Taking one of her big tits in his bear-paw of a hand, he clutched it, twisted it hard. “You better, bitch.”

Tina’s heart pounded against her ribcage, each beat a drumroll to an unknown fate.

The girl cried. He let loose of her. “Go pack your shit and put on a dress. No underwear. He may want to sample you.”

Without another word, the girl turned on her heel and exited, her steps carrying the heaviness of resignation.

“What’s going to happen to me?” she asked. Tina’s voice barely rose above a whisper. The plea in her eyes was naked and unashamed, the last vestige of hope glinting in the dark.

Rick’s expression hardened into something cold and unreadable.

“You’re going to be trained, like I did her, to be a whore.” He spoke with an authority that would accept no argument. A comment to crush spirits and dreams alike.

“I ain’t no whore,” Tina shot back, defiance flaring within her despite the tremor in her words.

Without warning, Rick’s hand whipped across her cheek, a sharp crack that filled the room. He struck her again with the back of his hand, a double insult stamped onto her skin. He leaned in close, his breath hot against her face.

“You will be, you most assuredly will be.”

Tina felt the sting bloom across her face, her skin burning with the imprint of his contempt. But it wasn’t just the physical pain that seared its mark. It was the realization that she had been reduced to a collection of parts, stripped of humanity in this man’s eyes.

Rick’s grip was firm on the nape of her neck. His fingers were a vice against her fragile skin, hurting her. With a forceful shove, Tina’s face pressed harshly against the cold, unforgiving wall of the mudroom-turned dungeon.

She felt the metal bite of the handcuffs release as Rick’s key twisted in the lock, granting a bitter freedom that made her not at all free. Her arms, numb and tingling from being bound behind her back for hours, flopped uselessly to her sides.

“Time for a nap,” Rick growled, his voice a rumbling command that brooked no dissent. “You’ve got a long day ahead.”

Tina’s eyes flickered to the dog bed he pointed at. A ragged, coarse fabric circle of poorly padded imitation carelessly positioned on the linoleum floor. Disbelief registered faintly, but she dared not let it bloom into defiance.

“In a dog’s bed?” The words slipped out more in astonishment than challenge.

His hand rose again, promising another strike, and at that moment, self-preservation trumped her incredulity. She shuffled to the bed, her high heels clicking discordantly on the ground, and then awkwardly curled up within its confines, her body contorting uncomfortably to fit.

“Get this straight,” Rick sneered, looming over her diminished form. “You’re nothing now. Less than nothing. Just a plaything for men to use.” His words were a venomous wheeze, stripping away her identity, her worth, bit by bit.

He flicked off the light, plunging the room into darkness save for the sliver of light that seeped from beneath the door. In this new world of shadows, fatigue washed over Tina like a relentless tide. It dragged her under, deep into a restless slumber filled with feverish dreams.

Her subconscious twisted reality into fantasy, replaying the nightmare she’d endured. She dreamt vividly of Rick’s dominance, the imagined heat of him too real, too invasive. Her mind concocted an erotic horror where she was powerless, yet her body betrayed her with a response born of some primeval, dark desire.

Awakening with a start, Tina’s breath came in shallow gasps. A new, unfamiliar weight encircled her throat. Panicked fingers traced the contours of the cruel collar now locked around her neck, a tangible symbol of her captivity.

The coldness of the concrete seeped into her bones as she lay there, a shiver of dread spreading through her veins. The nightmare had ended, but the true horror of her situation was only just beginning.

Tina rose unsteadily, her limbs stiff from the unnatural rest on the hard dog bed. The collar around her neck felt heavier each moment, a constant reminder of her grim reality. She shuffled into the kitchen, eyes downcast, where the stark light glared off the cold surfaces.

Rick sat there, as bare and unabashed as the day he was born. A steaming mug in his hand. His gaze lifted from the dark liquid to meet hers, the corners of his mouth curling into a smile that held no trace of humor or concern.

“Sleep well?” he asked, his voice smooth like the coffee he sipped.

She nodded slightly, her throat tight against the collar’s embrace.

“Can I have something to eat?” she asked, her voice betraying her hunger.

“Sure,” Rick replied, setting his mug down with an air of casual authority. “First, get under the table and give me head. Show me you learned how last night. Do it real good; if I don’t have to make you do anything, and you get me off, taking all the cum without losing any on the floor, you can have a bowl of cereal.”

Tina suppressed the urge to retch, to scream, to resist.

Instead, she sank to her knees. The cold, cheap tile against her skin grounded her to the moment. She crawled beneath the table, a wooden canopy above her, and Rick’s expectant glare, a weight on the back of her head. With trembling hands, she reached for him, her fingers brushing against the warmth of his flesh. She took him in her mouth, slowly at first, finding a rhythm that was dictated by necessity rather than desire.

There was an unwanted, unwelcome warmth inside her. The moisture built. Damn me, she thought, why do I want this? What’s wrong with me?

Her movements became fluid, almost mechanical, as she worked to accommodate him. Tina’s hands assisted where her mouth could not reach. It was a wet affair, filled with sounds obscene and nasty rummaged about within the confines of the kitchen.

Tina focused on the task, the ebb and flow of her breath, a pressing need built within her even more. Tina shifted, rubbing herself against Rick’s foot, chasing a shameful relief amidst her degradation. Not once, but twice, waves of unwanted pleasure crashed over her, leaving her gasping as Rick finally released himself down her throat.

Finished, he withdrew and stood, leaving Tina crouched under the table, her body slick with exertion, a pool of humiliation between her legs. Proof she enjoyed her degradation. She hated herself but felt a strange pride that Rick had been pleased.

She tried to convince herself it was a relief that she wouldn’t be disciplined. But in the end, she realized it was pride, foolish pride in being a good whore. A small amount of herself slipped away from her.

Rick fetched a bowl and filled it with Cheerios, then turned his attention back to her. His arousal had not waned. The fat, long penis stood a straight rod of iron from his body, his insatiable nature confirmed by an erection that refused to die.

Rick’s unending supply of little blue pills aided him with that insatiable desire.

“Jack me off,” he commanded, pulling her from beneath the table to stand before him.

Her hands were slick with her sputum and aided by his cum and her saliva on the enormous tool. She complied, moving over his staff with a detached efficiency that concealed the turmoil within her. Time stretched on. The only sounds were the harsh breaths and slicked motions of her hands until, with a groan, Rick found his release again, this time over the innocuous cereal.

Again, she felt a surge of pride in her accomplishment and a deep revulsion at herself for her perceived self-importance.

He poured the scantest amount of milk onto the soiled breakfast, an afterthought to the perverse meal he’d concocted. Exhausted and hollow, Tina ate. Each spoonful a bitter reminder of the life she must endure.

A life reduced to servitude and survival.

Tina’s spoon clattered against the empty bowl, her hunger barely sated. She lifted her eyes to Rick’s, a twisted semblance of gratitude warping her features.

“Thanks. Can I have more, please?” The words, soft and childlike, were at odds with the harshness of her reality.

Rick’s lips curled into a sneer.

“No, piggy girls don’t make as much money as skinny ones.” His voice was cold, lacking humanity. It struck Tina then. The inevitability of her situation and the weight of her captivity. Her stark naked vulnerability and the chilling truth that, to Rick, she was less than human.

“Since you’ve finished stuffing your slut face, it’s time to work. But first, a lesson,” Rick said, his tone brooking no argument. He stood, his movements predatory as he gestured for her to follow him toward the bedroom.

A shiver of dread ran down Tina’s spine when he added a warning.

“And remember, cunt, try for the doors, and you’ll regret it.”

With leaden feet, Tina trailed after him, her survival instincts urging obedience. They passed into the living room where the young black girl sat, a picture of defeated elegance in her sundress, a suitcase at her side, and a dog collar around her neck.

She was quite beautiful and only a year or two older than Tina.

“When they gonna be here?” Her voice held a note of anxious hope.

Faster than thought, Rick’s fist clenched, and he swung, striking the girl across the face.

She crumpled to the floor with a thud.

“I’ve told you dozens of times, don’t ask questions about yourself,” he growled. “It doesn’t matter when they get here or when you leave. Wait like a good little ho.”

Tina felt nausea churn in her stomach, but she forced herself to look away, to move on. Three doors stood ajar, revealing empty rooms stripped bare of comfort. Another closed door loomed ominously—its secrets untold and unwelcome in Tina’s mind.

The bathroom lay open, clinical in its cleanliness. As she passed by its threshold, Tina halted.

“Can I go potty?” The innocence of the request felt absurd in the grim setting.

“Shit or piss?” Rick asked, his impatience evident.

“Tinkle,” Tina murmured, the childish word slipping out reflexively.

“Fine,” he grunted, motioning to the toilet.

She shuffled inside; the cool tiles underfoot conflicted with the warmth of her flushed skin.

“Could you ... turn away?” she asked, her voice threadbare from use and abuse. The request was beyond bizarre. She was naked and exposed.

But Rick simply shook his head, a sneer on his lips.

Tina’s cheeks burned with humiliation, yet she knew resistance was futile. With a silent prayer for some shred of dignity, she perched on the seat and released the stream, trying to ignore the oppressive presence at the door watching her.

Tina tugged a couple of sheets of paper from the roll, wiped herself, and discarded the used toilet paper into the bowl. Standing, she turned to flush it.

“Leave it,” he said. “Shaqueen, get your black ass back here and clean this fucking bathroom while you wait.”

“Yes, sir, Daddy, right fast.” The girl rushed in and flushed the toilet. “Now get out-o-here wonder bread. I gots to work for Daddy.”

What jarred Tina’s mind and senses was that the girl was thrilled to clean the already spotless bathroom for Daddy. As she left the room, the girl was humming something.

‘Shit, it’s Whistle While You Work, ’ she thought.

“You’re supposed to whistle that song,” Tina said.

“Daddy don’t like whistling,” she said.

“Tina, you dumb cunt, come on.”

They entered Rick’s bedroom, which seemed too ordinary, far too mundane for the horrors the house represented to Tina.

“Sit there,” Rick said, pointing to a spot on the big king-sized bed.

Tina settled uneasily on the edge of the bed, its comfort incompatible with the dread pooling in her stomach. Rick pulled open a drawer from the bedside table, and its glide was smooth like silk across soft skin as if it had been opened thousands of times. He retrieved an array of items, laying them out with meticulous care.

“Going to make you feel good,” he purred, almost soothingly, as he wrapped a tourniquet around Tina’s right arm. She stared at him, confusion covering her features. A silent question formed as he sanitized a patch of her skin with an alcohol swab.

Rick presented the hypodermic needle, flicking it casually with a finger, making Tina’s heart lurch. He shot a small fluid stream up and out of the needle.

“What’s that?” she asked, breathing the words more than speaking them, a fear clutching her heart. She didn’t like shots. Tina didn’t want anything put into her body. Even if it meant feeling better.

“Cocaine.”

“But that’s dangerous,” Tina said, a protest lodged in a vestige of defiance flickering within her.

“Not for whores like you.” His words were cold and dismissive as he smacked the inside of her thin forearm as he searched for a vein. One bulged up blue as if beckoning to be punctured. The small jab of the needle was nothing compared to the myriad betrayals of her body and spirit she had endured.

He pressed a tiny amount of the clear fluid into her bloodstream and pulled back, drawing blood into the hypo. He pushed the mixed fluid into her blood vessel with a slow precision. Withdrawing the needle, he put a round bandage over the puncture. Rick released the tourniquet.

The concoction went to work.

Something immediately took hold of her inside. Tina’s eyes widened as her senses sharpened. The world took on a bright sheen as the drug invaded her emotions and mind. Her body needed something, wanted something. She turned toward Rick, their gazes locking, and something primal within her sought his warmth, his touch. Their lips met, and she melted into him, a torrent of confused emotions battling the euphoria that threatened to engulf her.

Rick eased her down onto the bed, his hands roaming as they kissed, igniting sparks wherever they touched. His fingers found her center, coaxing moans from her lips as desire began to override fear. He teased her with his arousal, tracing the sensitive flesh that yearned for unfamiliar sensations.

“Please,” she heard herself beg. The plea rose unbidden as she drowned in the haze of drug-induced intoxication and longing. Her rational mind screamed from far away, but the siren call of her flesh was overpowering.

“Take me,” Tina implored, surrendering to the tumultuous sea of desire. Her virginity, once a bastion, now seemed a trifle in the face of the overwhelming need coursing through her veins.

In that room, with only the dim light casting long shadows, Tina lost herself to the tide of carnal hunger. Giving herself to the hands and lips of the man who had redefined her existence. Rendering her a captive not just in body but in her soul.

“Call me Daddy,” he said.

“Please, Daddy, use me.” she lay back, spread her legs, and begged him to use her.

Positioning himself, striking the clit with the dicks-head, he ran it slowly up and down between the pussy lips and finally, with one violent thrust, entered inside by several inches.

Rick’s invasion was a brutal cataclysmic moment. Shattering the sanctity of her untouched core with a ferocity that melded agony and ecstasy into a maelstrom of sensation. Tina’s childhood was destroyed with the first shove, and her innocence was ruptured. The next tore her self-respect from her.

The pain was there, an undeniable sharpness that seemed to cut through the fog of narcotics and desire. But it was swiftly chased by waves of pleasure that defied her expectations. His movements were relentless, each drive deeper than the one before, as he claimed what he saw as his right.

“Look at you,” Rick growled above her, his breath hot against her neck as he leaned in close, “just a vessel for my pleasure.”

The words should have wounded, but wrapped in the twisted blanket of her arousal, they only spurred the confusion of her senses. Her worth and very humanity seemed to slip away with each thrust. Leaving behind only the wanton need to be filled, taken, and used.

Tina’s body betrayed her, responding with involuntary contractions that clasped him tighter. Urging him further into her depths. She climaxed, the high cresting like a wave, and she buckled beneath him, her voice a hoarse utterance of both protest and passion.

“Daddy, it hurts. Please give me some time. Love me, Daddy, please love me too.”

“Love you, you’re nothin’ but holes,” he said. Punctuating each word with another punishing thrust. Tina could feel herself spiraling down into degradation. Yet her body soared on the peaks of illicit pleasure.

“The hurt is good, Daddy.” And, thanks to the cocaine, it was both good and terrible. Pleasurable and horridly painful. The worst thing that this experience was ... didn’t even occur to her. It was a training technique used to destroy her, reduce her self-worth, respect, and personhood, and make her a commodity.

Stab after stab, his pecker used as a knife, filled Tina with agony and ecstasy in equal measures. Tina accepted her role. Somehow, she lost more of herself with each punishing lunge of his cock. And while he hammered inside her, Rick took away more of who she was or had been. Giving her nothing but a diminishing of self.

After an eternity of shame, humiliation, ruin, and unbounded pleasure, the moment ended.

His rhythm grew frenzied, more forceful, and then he stilled, his release hot and potent within her. Rick pumped his seed into her and filled her inside, and she arched into him, wanting more. But Rick was done with that hole. He wanted another one.

Without tenderness, he flipped her over, pressing her face into the sheets of the bed as he readied himself again. He lubed up his cock, not to ease in for her but to protect himself from pain.

“This will hurt much, much worse.”

Rick spat out, the cruel forewarning barren of sympathy. As he breached her untried entrance, her cry was lost in the fabric and pillow she buried her face in. Pain flared white-hot, even through the haze of cocaine, a brutal reminder of her powerlessness.

“Stop—please,” she begged, her plea ignored. Her spirit frayed a little more with each of his harsh reminders that she was nothing.

“Whore ... worthless cunt ... waste of flesh ... cum catcher...” and other insults, each one stripping a shred more of her humanity from her.

The assault felt endless. Time distorted under the duress of pain and Rick’s unyielding domination. When he finally withdrew, leaving her broken and hollow, the darkness crept in at the edges of her vision, eager to claim her.

She succumbed to unconsciousness, and in that vulnerable state, her dreams echoed the reality of her torment—a twisted memory of the abuse she endured, woven with threads of unwanted pleasure.

Tina was becoming nothing, one humiliation after another, taking her further down the rabbit hole.

Tina’s consciousness fluttered on the edge of reality. Her naked form curled, vulnerable, and exposed on the middle of Rick’s king-sized bed. The dream that held her twisted into something sinister in the oppressive darkness of her slumber.

Her eyes moved rapidly about as if they survived the landscape for danger. Tina’s hands trembled, and her legs quaked as the dream morphed. She’d dreamed of Rick fucking her in bed, but everything changed, and Rick was replaced or, perhaps, changed. The bedroom vanished, and someplace else formed.

The air was thick with the scent of oil and rust, the chill of a warehouse seeping into her bones. Harsh echoes of metal clanging reverberated around her as she found herself amidst toppled barrels, their contents unknown but ominous.

The figure looming over her was Rick, yet monstrously altered. His features were grotesquely exaggerated; taller, more bulky. Gigantic muscles bulged like twisted metal cables beneath his skin that gleamed with an unnatural sheen. His eyes glinted with feral hunger, and his member had transformed into a weapon of cruel proportions.