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FREEDOM: Class Warfare
Part Ten
Judy Goodheart, Prostitute
By Razor7826 (Copyright 2009)
Thoughts? Encouragement? Hate? Email me at Razor7826@hotmail.com. I’m always interested in hearing from my readers. This story in no way reflects the views of the author. It is intended for the eyes of legal adults only. Any resemblance to persons real or imagined is entirely coincidental.
Judy looked into the mirror once more, appalled by the woman that stood before her eyes. Scantily clad, wearing little more than black lace undergarments and a fine mesh veil, the young Christian woman looked more like a belly dancer than the pious and chaste woman she had always wanted to be. The foreign sensation of makeup caked her face, applied with the help of one of her owners. Her long brown hair hung in curls on her shoulders.
“My owners,” she muttered to herself, still not used to the expression.
Three weeks since she led her friends into a lifetime of slavery. Barely a moment passed without soul-crushing remorse for her role in that tragedy. The constant sight of her friends getting raped and degraded was enough to push Judy to the edge of sanity, but neither that or her own degradation were the worst parts of her new life as a slave.
It was the unending derision that hurt most. At all hours of the day and night, the boys and girls that placed their fate in her hands called out.
“How was the fucking, Judy?
“I hope it hurt.”
“You better hope we are never left along with you.”
“I hate you so much, Judy Goodheart.”
They were once her friends, but now she feared them every bit as much as her rivals from Rowan Preparatory Academy. They wanted revenge for her trespasses. She didn’t know what form that revenge would take, however, nor which she would prefer.
All through her schemes, she had acknowledged the possibility that her and her friends would spend the rest of their lives as slaves, though she regarded it as only the slimmest chance. However, it had to be done; without their help, there was no way they could have the resources to out strategize their enemies.
In the end it was all for nothing.
The reward for her failure was special treatment. Though none played a more important role in the loss, Judy was treated better and more humanely than her classmates, having procured a special place in Elizabeth Monseto’s cold heart years ago.
It made her feel rotten. Though constantly afraid of what laid in her future, she wanted to be beaten and humiliated, degraded beyond her limits. It was always her intention to control Elizabeth, one way or the other, but thus far she had failed to draw attention away from her friends.
Even more upsetting was the concerted effort to destroy Angelica Chenowitz, the traitor. Judy could only watch from her cell as the boys and girls of Rowan Prep raped and tortured her almost constantly. It churned her stomach to see such horrifying deeds perpetrated against a woman so young for such trivial crimes. Yes, Angelica had conspired to undermine Liz, and yes, Judy had knowingly allowed her to do it, but the tortures inflicted upon the traitor pushed Judy to tears.
If Judy could take everybody’s suffering unto herself, she would.
But Judy was special. The world knew Judy Goodheart by name. They knew all about her humble beginnings, her role in class government, her perfect GPA. In the face of her failure, her lifetime of success only accentuated the magnitude of her loss. Like a horrifying train wreck that slows the daily commute, the world wanted to see and understand the disaster that had become Judy’s life.
“You’re going to earn your keep,” Elizabeth announced one afternoon as they walked to one of the back trailers. “Someday, we’ll have our own brothel, but until then, this trailer is yours.”
She spent days alone in that trailer, untouched by the hands of Rowan Prep. Even though a camera mounted in the corner stole her privacy, the quiet solitude and comfortable bed were enough to feel like heaven. Her wounds healed and her spirit recovered. It was as perfect as she could hope for in the life of a slave.
The sabbatical ended with a knock on her door, just after sunset.
“Tonight is the night, Judy,” announced Liz. “Time to prove your worth.”
“What do you mean?”
She smirked. “You’ll see.”
Hours later, she sat on the bed, waiting for the first of many rendezvous. Did she follow Elizabeth’s demands? Or should she resist, instead drawing her mistresses fury away from her friends? The question soon slipped from her mind, the consequences of her actions too abstract to make a meaningful conclusion. She would do her job… for now.
A knock came on the trailer door. It squeaked open before she could welcome in her guest.
“Hello, Judy.” The voice belonged to a short man in his mid-thirties. He wore black pants and a beige button-down shirt, both several sizes too small and barely able to contain his flesh. He was not particularly fat, but the mismatch between his clothing and size showed his weight gain to be unexpected.
Judy stood from the bed to greet her guest, in accordance with the only advice that Elizabeth had given her.
“Show the guest a good time, or I’ll let you spend the night with your friends.”
She knew exactly what the cruel girl meant, though the veiled threat was not necessary. Judy had no intention of disobeying her orders. Not yet, anyways.
“Good evening, sir.” She gave a slight curtsy, grabbing the reams of green fabric that hung around her waist.
He smiled lecherously. “You’re even finer in person than in the photos,” he said, with a slight southern drawl.
“Photos?”
“Yeah, they’re all over the place. You’re famous.”
“For what?”
“For being a dumb cunt!”
The words stung, but she tried to keep her composure.
He stepped closer to her and slipped his right arm across the small of her back. “All of your friends are sex slaves because of your stupidity. Tell me, how does that make you feel?”
She wanted to confess her soul, to tell him how much it hurt, but she knew that was what he wanted. He was a sadistic and horny fiend. Misery would only make him more savage.
“What, no answer?” His left hand slid up to her bra. He slid his fingers inside, pulled down and exposed her nipples. “Very nice.”
She closed her eyes and took a slow and deep breath, fearful of his aggression but not wanting to resist. Even if he repulsed her, she was growing accustomed to being taken.
He grabbed her right breast in his hand and squeezed tightly, her pale and pure flesh oozing between his hands. He pulled her in tighter, lifted her off the ground and his lips onto hers. His tongue slipped inside her mouth, and she accepted it limply.
Never before had she felt so small. Though the man that held her was not a large, he handled her with ease. Within his arms she was utterly defenseless. She let him push her against the wall and let him grope every inch of her body. Why? Because she knew deep down inside that she didn’t have a choice. What would happen would happen, not because God willed it, but because her owners did.
She thought it was going to be a routine fucking, a horny man that just wanted to get his rocks off and nothing more. However, it proved to be something far worse.
His left hand slid up to her throat and applied a bit of pressure.
“Hey…” she muttered, believing he was going for breath play. She had become familiar with erotic choking from her many encounters with Fiona Fiore.
He laughed into her face and squeezed a little bit tighter. “I’m allowed to be rough, you know, as long as I don’t leave many marks.”
“You’re hurting me…”
“So?”
She squirmed against his grasp, but his grip and weight against her held her firmly in place. It was going to be a night just like any other, her body used and penetrated without an ounce of concern for her humanity.
He pressed against her throat harder.
She gasped for air as darkness edged in from her periphery. She thought she was going to lose consciousness, but his grip loosened. Her lungs filled with air.
He grinned, and began the cycle over again, each time bringing her to the brink of lucidity and letting go. The man knew what he was doing, his fingers alternating between cutting off her blood flow and choking her breaths.
“You’re…” she muttered, but she lacked the strength to continue. The man’s brutal game of control robbed her of her will. She was putty in his hands.
She barely moved a muscle when he threw her to the bed and muttered nary a protest as he crawled between her legs and tore away her panties.
His cock was already hard, fuelled by his sadistic glee.
Judy Goodheart could feel his cock inside her, but it brought it did not feel like the rapes that filled the last few weeks, her thoughts too muddled to comprehend the moment. The man knew what he was doing, cutting off her circulation just enough to keep her dazed. Even if she were aware and capable, there’s no way she could resist. He pinned her down with his body and spread her tits against his chest.
His cock thrust in and out of her body, each forceful pound supported by the full weight of his body. He completely dwarfed her. Whatever he wanted to do with her body, he did without resistance.
With a grunt and disgusting breath, he came inside her and collapsed. However, his cock did not subside and his break was only temporary. Judy rested on her back, perfectly still, as the cycle continued, drug induced frenzies interspersed with moments of rest.
Even after he was finally done, she spent the night on her back lying perfectly still, the customer’s left arm sprawled against her naked chest. His very being repulsed her, but she knew that struggling would prove fruitless.
When she awoke during the middle of the night, he was gone. She fell back asleep, knowing that she would have peace and quiet until her body was next needed.
*
The muted yells of argument woke her sometime before noon.
“Get out of my way!”
“We need to talk about this some more.”
She recognized the voices as those of Elizabeth Monseto and Will Powers.
“I’m going to take what’s mine.”
“Not this week!
Judy peered out the trailer’s barred window from behind the thick curtains. Will held tightly to Liz’s upper arms, restraining her approach.
“I swear, I’ll…” cursed Elizabeth as she struggled against Will’s grip.
“You’ll what? She said you shouldn’t abuse them”
“Then fuck it! I don’t need the money.”
“But we do. Not all of us are as rich as you, and I’m much rather have her as a continuing income than a mindless fuck slave.”
“But she’s mine! I defeated her.”
“We defeated her. Don’t forget that. You’re not her only owner, and we can vote away your privileges if that’s what it takes.
Judy had no idea the circumstances surrounding her prostitution were so complicated. For the first time since her failure, she considered the logistics of having fifteen owners, each with their own intentions.
“I wouldn’t have given the cunt’s plan a shot if I knew I was forfeiting my rights to Judy.”
“Just for this week, okay?” His voice was low and soothing, as if he had much experience in comforting and commanding others. Will was tall, his body toned from whatever sport he pursued.
Judy never knew him before the game and did not know the details of his life. For all his skill in handling others, Judy resented him. Of all the men that spent hours between her legs, Will Powers was the worst. He barely treated her like a human being, never speaking a single word except in command. Judy had quickly learned that his demands were to be taken seriously, for his every wish would be supported with his fists. She had the bruises to prove it.
Elizabeth pouted and turned away, leaving her classmate guarding the door to Judy’s trailer. He stood there, waiting a few minutes longer, before following Elizabeth back in to the warehouse.
Judy let the curtain fall back into place. She knelt beside her bed and said a quiet prayer.
“God, grant me the serenity, to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can and wisdom to know the difference.” She crawled back into the bed, pulled the covers up over her body, and fell asleep peacefully.
*
Another night, another customer. With an hour’s notice, an outfit was delivered to the trailer that had become her new prison cell. It was a school uniform, but not one that she had ever seen before—its grey skirt only inched onto her knee, and the cut of the button-down vest accentuated her bust. She rarely paid attention to her appearance beyond being clean, back when it mattered.
Staring at herself in the mirror, a simple thought crossed her mind. Not a thought, really, but a fact.
She was pretty. Not just a little, but exceptionally so.
Was it the events of the previous week that seeded her mind with thoughts of sex? The topic was perpetually repressed, and she expected it to remain so until marriage, exactly like her parents and church expected of her.
That hadn’t lasted nearly as long as she had hoped.
*
Each day she rested, and each night she whored herself at her owners’ command.
Tuesday night was spent dressed as a schoolgirl, submitting to the whims of a closeted lesbian school teacher. Judy became an empty proxy for all of Ms. Smith’s perverted fantasies about her own students. From a loving embrace to reaming the teacher with a strap-on, Judy fulfilled her job without complaint.
The next night saw Judy Goodheart quadruple-teamed by a group of drunken frat boys. She was a graduation gift for the seniors of Pi Zeta Epsilon. The men filled her holes with cum and showered her body with piss. Though revolting, she played the role of teenage cum dumpster without resistance.
Her fourth night saw her on all fours, licking the clean and shaved cunts of a group of women in their forties. She couldn’t tell of they were lovers or friends, but they took delight in a their time with a celebrity slave as some sort of girl’s night out. Lesbians, sadists, or something entirely unknown, their motivations did not matter.
Life as a prostitute was degrading and filthy, but if she tried, she found sex could be pleasurable. That wasn’t always easy in the face of bizarre fetishes, but she got what satisfaction she could.
*
On the last day of Judy’s trial week Elizabeth dropped off a surprising outfit, one that Judy had never expected to wear again. It was a Seven Saints school uniform, exactly Judy’s size.
“Why this?”
Elizabeth smiled. “You’ll see.”
Just after sunset, a knock came at her door. A couple entered each carrying a duffle bag. They sat on the edge of the bed, side-by-side and holding hands, staring at Judy.
She could not tell whether their eyes held lust or contempt.
“Do you remember us?” asked the woman.
“I…” she was about to say no, but as the words came out of her mouth, recognition dawned on her. They were the parents of Logan Durst, one of the classmates she led into slavery. The apologies flowed from her mouth in an instant. “Mr. and Mrs. Durst, I…”
But they would have none of it. “Shut it!” Jeremiah Durst yelled.
The wife jumped in, “We offered so much money for a chance to meet with Logan one last time, but they refused us access. But Elizabeth, that mean bitch, let us talk to you instead, and for free.”
So it wasn’t prostitution, not a forced rendezvous. But if not for prostitution, what was the purpose of their visit?
Revenge. Pure and simple.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done to us?”
“Yes…”
“Liar!” Jeremiah yelled, rising from his seat. He raised his right leg, reared back, and booted Judy in the shoulder.
She fell back on to the ground, but did not even try to stand or even look them in the face. They had every right to despise her. It was her that led their son into slavery. It was her that started the game in the first place. If anyone was to pay for the game’s outcome, it was Judy Goodheart.
“What do you have to say for yourself?”
Judy looked up at Mrs. Durst and said calmly. “It is my fault that Logan can no longer be with you. I’m sorry.”
The mother rose and joined her husband, her boot landing in Judy’s ribcage. “You fucking bitch! You should be begging for forgiveness!”
But the time for tears was over. For weeks she had been forced to face her role in the tragedy. She begged for absolution a hundred times yet never received the slightest ounce of support in return. Her friends had grown to hate her over a single misdeed, and there was no conceivable deed that would reclaim their favor.
“Cry!” yelled the father. “Show us how much you regret what you did to our son.”
“I’m sorry,” she responded without strength or vigor. It was the truth, and nothing more.
Mr. Durst grabbed a clump of Judy’s hair and pulled her to her knees. “You don’t sound like you mean it.”
Judy peered up at her attacker and spoke slowly and clearly. “I do. You have no idea how many times I’ve apologized to Logan, but he won’t even respond.”
Blood drained from the mother’s face. “Is there something wrong? Can he not speak? Please, you have to tell us!”
The sudden shift in tone and power startled Judy, yet she responded as calmly as she had delivered her remorse. “He’s fine. The women suffer things far worse than the boys.”
“What’s happened to him?” asked Trudy.
Judy paused, unsure of whether the parents of a victim were better off knowing what was happening inside the private warehouse. However, she had never learned to lie well. It would be better to say nothing at all.
“Answer me!”
But she said nothing.
Both husband and wife opened the duffle bags in anger, each riffling through in search of some unseen item. A brief glimpse at the contents revealed the nature of the bags.
They were goodie bags from Elizabeth, filled with some of the same bondage gear that was strewn across the warehouse floor and cages. Some of the dildos still glistened with cum, while others showed the dull red patches of dried blood.
“So what are you going to do to me?”
The father answered with a calm voice. “Elizabeth came up with a few rules for our little discussion.”
Judy knew immediately what those requirements were, for Elizabeth Monseto never passed up a chance to sow rape and misery.
Mrs. Durst took the initiative, her face frozen in a malicious scowl. She slipped a strap-on over her denim pants and pushed Judy to the floor. “So this is what your life is like now, huh? And Logan’s?”
She couldn’t bring herself to correct the mother’s misconception. The captured girls of Seven Saints had it far worse than the men. Not only was there more interest in using their bodies, but there were far more options towards harming the female form within the letter of the law.
The husband stood by and watched silently as his wife grabbed Judy’s head with both hands and steadied it.
The plastic cock slid slowly into Judy’s mouth. She could smell and taste the rancid tinge of dried cum as it penetrated deeper and deeper into her mouth. It took all her willpower not to gag and just accept its presence, but she did all the way until it hit the back of her throat.
Mrs. Durst pulled it back out, then thrust it back in, again and again, the edge of the cock poking at the inside of Judy’s head.
“Mmmmmm!” Judy yelled, her protests muffled into the pink plastic. She had started the encounter wanting only to act as an outlet for the Durst’s pain and anger, but already she had regretted her compliance. She had no idea how bad things were about to get.
Mr. Durst knelt besides her and pawed at her body, caressing and groping her breasts beneath the green school uniform.
His hands slid up to her face.
Judy had no reason to think anything of his perverted actions.
A pinch of his thumb and index finger across her nose change everything.
With the dildo in her mouth and his fingers pinching her nostrils together, she couldn’t breath. She gasped for air, but only got the sputter of her saliva mixing with the dried blood and cum that covered the dildo.
They meant to kill her.
“They’ll consider it an accident. We’ve seen the type of sentences dished out to customers that go too far with prostitutes. We can deal with that.”
Part of her wanted to die, to accept the final disgrace of being murdered for her crimes. But even pure Judy Goodheart—the girl that had always espoused the potential of willpower—could not overcome her basic biological urges. She had to survive.
“How does it feel, Judy Goodheart?” taunted Mrs. Durst, her hips pushed forward as far as possible.
Her husband said not a word.
All hope seemed lost. Judy Goodheart relaxed her muscles and readied herself for a death that she felt she deserved. All those people, slaves forever because of her…
Her thoughts shattered with the thunderous crack of plastic. The trailer door burst off its hinges and amidst its remains stood Elizabeth Monseto. She was naked from the waist down and fluids soaked her inner thighs. Her right hand grasped a still coiled leather whip.
“What are you doing to my Judy!?” she yelled.
“We were just…”
Elizabeth dashed for Mrs. Durst with her shoulders lowered, knocking the customer backwards and pulling the dildo from Judy’s mouth.
“What the…” mumbled Mr. Durst as he held Elizabeth back from his wife.
“Get out of here!”
“Wait a minute. You said we could…”
“I told you to torture her, not kill her!”
“But…”
The lashes began. Elizabeth put several yards distance between her and the couple and unfurled her whip.
They didn’t even try to fight back. Within seconds, they were out the door.
“Are you okay?” asked Elizabeth.
Judy had never heard anything so caring from the evil bitch’s mouth. She nodded.
Liz extended her left hand to Judy and helped her to her feet. “Good. Now get cleaned up. This little experiment is over.”
But not forever. Though the brush with loss terrified both the mistress and her enslaved rival, the money earned would prove too tempting for the other owners.
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