Tick, Tick,Tick." I kept my attention on the clock as John Number Four continued to plow me from behind. I moaned every once in awhile to make him feel like he was doing something, which ain't shit, but he's paying me two hunderd dollars, so I guess I can do my part. I reached my hands between my legs to massage his balls, and help him cum faster. I had another John coming in twenty mintues, so he needed to hurry up.

"Oh shit!! Keep doing that I'm about to come."

"About damn time. " I thought to myself.

He started to pump faster and faster. He gripped my hips tighter, his sign that he was about to cum. I continued massaging his balls. I felt them tightening up. He was about to come.

"OHHHHH FUCCKKKK I'M CUMMINNNGG" he yelled.

I could feel his cum shoot up inside me. Thank God I'm on the pill or Dante would kick my ass. Normally I would make all of john's wear a condom, but this John always got a free pass. He pays more.

Dante is my pimp, and I am his main girl, or his top bitch. Whichever you perfer, but I perfer top bitch. I been with Dante since I was sixteen. My mother died when I was eight and my dad was an abusive drunk who took his anger out on my face. Boo hoo sad story? I know right. Anyway I took the abuse because I loved my dad, but I stopped loving him when I turned thirteen, and he started raping me. I didn't tell anybody. Not because I was scared, but because I didn't have anybody to tell. My mom was an only child. She lost her mom when she three. So she bounced around from foster home to foster home until she was 18. She stayed at a homeless shelter till she was twenty-one and met my drunk of a dad. She moved in with him and got pregnant with me. They got married really fast just three weeks after meeting each other. My mom always told me she really didn't love my dad. She only married him to survive. She didn't want to go back to homeless shelter, so she settled. My dad didn't love her neither, he always cheated on her with random bitches he would meet. He wouldn't come home for weeks, and when he did come home he was drunk as shit, and slapped us around. This went on for about seven years of my life. My mom couldn't deal with the abuse, so she got high instead. Her choice of drug, crack. So I had a crack head for mother and alcoholic for father.

My mom spent most of her time in the neighborhood's crack house. I was left to defend for and basically raised myself. My mom and dad didn't give two fucks about my well being, so at the age of eight I'd stopped giving fuck about any and everything.

School was one of them. I was in the third grade. I used to come to school in clothes I had on for days. I didn't bathe or eat. My teachers started asking questions, but I never told them anything about my parents. I never really spoke to anybody.

My dad came and picked me up from school one day. We were getting ready to leave the school, but my teacher stop us. He asked my dad could he talk to him for a second. My dad put on this caring father act. Like he really gave damn about me.

He bent down and kissed me on my forehead and told me he'd be right back. I didn't even say anything. I looked at him like he was crazy. He walked with my teacher in the classroom. I wiped my forehead I didn't want his kisses. I didn't want shit from his sorry ass. I sat down in a chair that was outside the classroom.

I couldn't really hear anything in the classroom. So I figured everything was going well, until I heard my dad yelling. He was cursing out the teacher saying "You don't know shit about what goes on at my house with my daughter. So FUCK YOU AND THIS SORRY ASS SCHOOL!!"

My dad snatched the door open and told me to come on. I followed behind him, but stopped when my teacher called my name.

"Carmen?"

I stopped and looked back at him. He had a sad look on his face. He looked like he just lost a battle.

"You don't have to go, if you don't want too. I can get you the help you need."

I wanted to go with my teacher, but I couldn't make my legs move. My body was frozen in place. The next thing I knew my dad picked me up and threw me over his shoulder. I didn't even fight him. I looked back at my teacher, I could've sworn I saw a tear fall from his eye.

That was the last day I stepped foot in a school . My dad said I didn't have to go to school anymore. He said I was already a smart girl, so fuck school.

When we got home my dad went straight to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a shot of whiskey. I threw my backpack in the living room and went to look for my mom. I looked in the kitchen, the backyard, bathroom , and my parents room. The last place I looked was my room.

I walked in my room and found my mother dead. She was laying in my bed with a needle in her left arm and my picture in her right hand. You want to know the funny thing I didn't even cry or scream. I just stood there. I didn't have any emotions at that point.

I walked in the living room and told my dad. He dropped his glass and ran to my room. When he saw my mom's body he broke down into tears. He put her in his arms and cried. He was crying so hard I barely understood a word that came out his mouth . I didn't understand why he cried so hard,when didn't love her. But I guess you never know what you have until its gone.

He stayed in my room for awhile before he called the 911. He put on his sober act when the police came. He even told me to change clothes. The police and the ambulance came and they asked my dad questions. I didn't say anything. My dad did all the talking. He even cried when he talked to them. They told us my mom died from an overdose. My dad told them some bullshit as excuse about how he didn't know my mom was on drugs, which was a lie because he used to give them to her. My dad was so full of shit.

We had her funeral a week later. It was a small service. We didn't have that much money, but it was a nice. The only people there were me and dad. We didn't have any friends.

Five years went by after my mom's death things got worst. My dad's drinking got out of control. He spent most of his nights at the local bar drinking his life away. I was thirteen at the time. He would leave me for days or weeks. By that time I knew how to take care of myself. I always had money stashed away. My dad would be so drunk and passing out I would just go in his wallet and take money. I took the money, because we never had food in the house, and I needed things. If you need something, you take whats you need to get it.

One night my dad came home drunk and I was asleep on the sofa. He lay beside me. I woke up to him kissing and touching me in places. He kissed the back of my neck, my face, and evey other place could find. I cried and told him to stop, but my pleas were ignored. He told me if I loved him, I would stop crying and let him finish. I wasn't hearing that shit. I started to fight back, but he was too strong. He slapped me and forced himself on top of me, and he raped over and over again. That night I soaked in the tub for what felt like hours. I never felt so dirty in life. I just cried, I cried until my eyes were swollen shut. I officially became numb that night.

The rape continued for the next three year I stayed out at all hours of the night. I did everything I could not to go home. I was sixteen when I got myself a fake ID and started working a strip club called The Fantasy Factory I was making at least six hundred dollars a night. It was fast money , and it became a habit. Money was my obsession and it was my motivation for everything.

I was working at the club for six months, and I hadn't seen my dad since I started working there. The first night I danced I made enough money to stay in a motel room for a couple of weeks. Each night I worked at the club I saved at least half of the money I made to pay for my room. It wasn't the best, but at least I didn't have to deal with my dad, and for that I was grateful.

One night at the club I was getting ready to on stage and another dancer told me somebody was there to see me. My first thought went to my dad, and my mind started racing. The thought never crossed my mind that my dad could find me. Well at the moment I didn't have to worry about him. I had the money I needed to make it on my own. I told myself that I was going to tell him to leave me alone and go home. But I wasn't prepared for what happened next.

I heard the door open and when I turned around I thought I was going to see my father, but instead Dante walked through the door. He was so sexy in his black jeans, white beater, and tan Timberland boots. He had tattoos all over his beautiful caramel skin. He was smiling when he walked in, his smile was beautiful and so was he.

I instantly got nervous. The way he looked at me made me felt like I was beautiful. Don't get me wrong I never thought I was ugly, but he made me feel some type of way. With that one look he made felt wanted.

I knew about Dante reputation around the neighborhood. He was the top pimp in our neighborhood. He had all the girls in the neighborhood, expect me. I already knew what he was coming to see me for. This is what Dante did. He would come to strip clubs looking for girls. I knew that I will be next. I felt it in my gut.

I always told myself I only made money for myself and no one else. My money was my money.

Well when I met Dante all that shit I was telling myself flew out the window. I guess you can say he had a way with words. We started talking and by the end of the night I moved in with him. He already had ten other girls staying with him, but he told me I was number one, so those other girls didn't matter.

Things were going good for awhile. He took me out on dates. He brought me clothes. He even taught me how to drive. I was actually happy for once in my life. He was the only one I could count on. He never let me down. He was always there for me when I needed him the most. I fell in love with him. And he put my love for him to the test. One night he told me he needed me to do something for him. I already knew what he wanted that night I turned my first trick, and I've been doing it ever since.

Now here I am twenty one years old laying in a hotel room waiting on John Number Five to come. It's not the best life to live, but its my life.