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My man has a serious crack addiction. He keeps me around to keep his crack pipe full. If the cash is right my man will let you have me. Last night, he took me to a new client. The client looked so sweet, like someone’s grandfather. He was sweet and gentle at first, but when my man left I saw face change into pure evil. He punched me so hard that I flew across the room. He was a true sadist, he couldn’t get off unless he was causing pain. He pulled me up from the floor by my hair and dragged me to his bedroom. He got me on my knees and forced he cock so far into my throat that my eyes watered and I nearly threw up. But the worse part about this cruel man was that he was a biter. He bit me all over my body. My screams turned him on and he bit me harder. When my crackhead boyfriend finally came to pick me up I was a bloody mess. He didn’t say anything about my appearance. He just took the money and we drove to the crack house.
From sunup to sundown, I walk the streets selling my body. My boyfriend counts on me to keep a roof over our head and crack in his pipe. Every time I get in a strange man’s car it a gamble. There are some sick sadistic men that enjoy causing pain. I’ve gotten beaten up so many times that I’m lucky to still be alive. If I don’t bring home enough money to keep my old man high all night then he’ll be the one beating my ass. My old man loves to torture me with knives, hot irons, and leather belts. My body is covered in evidence of his physical abuse. He’s all I’ve known since I was a very young girl so I can’t leave him. Maybe I’m as sick as those sadistic johns because I can’t leave my abuser. Do I like the pain and punishment?
Three members of the 5th Ward Bloods kicked down the door of our home looking for my old man. He owned them $500 and they wanted their money NOW!! I hadn’t seen my old man in a few days and now I knew why. They forced me at gunpoint to call him. Once I had him on the phone, the leader threatened to kill me. I guess my evil old man told him he didn’t give a shit because the leader hung up with a shocked look on his face.
I thought I was going to die. But I got lucky, they fucked me instead. They fucked me in my ass brutally until warm blood ran down my thighs. Over and over again they ass fucked me. I hoped the neighbors would hear my cries of pain and call the police, but they never did anything when my old man beat my ass so I shouldn’t have been surprised. When they got bored with fucking me, they moved on to torture. They burnt me with cigarettes and cut me with knives. Before they left they beat me black and blue. Then they held me down and with a knife carved “You’re Next” on my back, a message to my crackhead old man.
,My man traded me for a few hundred to a man from his job. I had a bad feeling and refused to leave the car so my crackhead boyfriend dragged me to the front door by my hair. I relaxed a little when a harmless looking man opened the door. But I should have known not to judge a book by its cover. As soon as my man’s car left his driveway the man attacked by biting me. That’s what turned him on, biting. He bit me all over my body. I had bite marks on my tits, face, neck, thighs, and legs. I lost count after 20 bites. He acted like a wild animal and my cries of pain turned him on. By the end of the night, I was a bloody mess. This man who looked like an innocent school teacher was a sick psychopath. My man came and picked me up the next morning. When we got into the car to leave he slammed my head against the window and yelled at me for provoking the man. I cried all the way home.
I was so scared walking towards my front door. I didn’t make enough money to keep my crackhead boyfriend high all night. I opened the door and handed him all of the money I made from hooking up and down the boulevard. He counted the cash with an evil snarl on his face. He threw the cash at my face then slapped me so hard that I fell to the floor. He spit on me and relief briefly flooded through my body. I thought his tantrum was over, but I was so wrong. He gripped my hair in his fist and dragged me upstairs like I was a rag doll. He flung me towards the bed and pulled his belt from his pants.
“Get your fucking clothes off NOW!” , he demanded.
I took my clothes off and he started whipping me with his belt like I was a runaway slave. He hit me over and over again, each last worse than the one before. He hit me until his arm got tired. With welts all over my body, I curled up into a ball and cried myself to sleep.
I’ve been in an abusive relationship with my crack addict boyfriend since I was a teen. I met him through my parents who are also crack addicts. All my boyfriend had to do to take me from my neglectful parents was toss them a few crack rocks. He took my virginity and my innocence. It wasn’t long before he was forcing me to sell my body to keep him high. He beats me for almost anything because he has a hair trigger temper. He expects food on the table and a spotless home anything less is another ass beating. I figured out the only way his dick can get hard is through violence. Sometimes when he’s feeling really sadistic he’ll force me to suck his cock for hours until my lips are swollen. I’ve tried running away but he always finds me and beats me for trying to escape. Sometimes I hope I get in the wrong car and the john ends my life, because that’s the only thing I have left…hope.
It’s been 3 weeks and I’m still at the gangsters’ trap house. Every time my man shows up I think he’s taking me back to our house but he’s only there to get more crack. He sees the bruises all over my body but he doesn’t care. I plead and cry for him to rescue me, but someone slaps me to shut me up. Thug after thug fucks me in every hole until blood runs down my thighs. The big joke that keeps them rolling on the floor with laughter is keeping a leash around my neck and forcing me to crawl around on my hands and knees. They feed me dog food in a dog bowl and whip me with a leather belt if I try to use my hands to feed myself. I feel so humiliated, like shit on the bottom of a shoe. I cry out to God to rescue me, but I guess he’s ignoring me.
My man left me at the gang’s trap house for a few crack rocks again. These thugs treat me worse than a dog. For their amusement, they force me to eat from a dog bowl like an animal. I stay on my knees sucking cock all day until my lips are swollen and sore. They bend me over and fuck my asshole brutally until blood runs down my thighs. I’m not allowed to cry or scream out in pain or they beat me. They forced me to smoke crack until I beg for more. Smoking crack takes away the pain and sadness of knowing my body is worth 3 crack rocks. Minutes blend into hours, and hours blend into days as I’m fucked over and over again. As soon as one gangster fucks me and leaves my cunt filled with semen the next gangster steps up to take his place. I’m constantly hoping that my crack head boyfriend will come to my rescue, but he never comes.
I accidentally over-cooked my man’s steak and he flew into a rage. He threw the plate and the steak against the wall. The plate shattered into million broken pieces. He flew toward me and I ran towards the door. I was half way out of the door but he pulled me back in by my hair. He loves jerking me around by my hair. Sometimes he pulls and jerks it so hard that it comes out in clumps. He slapped me so hard that I swear that I saw stars. But I guess that I didn’t scream in pain loud enough because he punched me in the stomach. I doubled over in pain, no sound escaped my lips because he had knocked the wind out of me. Now he was satisfied. He’s beat my ass so many times that I’ve lost count. Why can’t I leave? What’s wrong with me? I sell my pussy to keep him high on crack. But still, he isn’t satisfied until he puts his hands on me.
Being with my abusive boyfriend has taught me how to be seen and not heard. He likes me to be submissive, whatever he says is law. I’m not allowed to look him in the eye because it’s a sign of disrespect. I have to keep my eyes on the floor. He has me trained like a dog. He’s a drug addict, he’s mean when he’s high and even meaner when he’s not. He doesn’t work and I’m his only source of income. Every day he sends me out into the mean streets to sell my body to strangers. I suck and fuck so many men that my pussy is always swollen and sore. If I don’t come home with enough money to keep him high all night he beats me. I walk the streets until my feet blister and bleed just to keep him happy. Pull your car over when you see me walking by, you won’t regret it because I’ll let you do anything for the right amount of money. I’m a victim and I’ll always be a victim.