Chapter 4 - Schoolgirl Yanni - The Price of Faking A "Slutty" Reputation

An 18-year-old American mixed race girl named Yanni has spent the last 4 years creating a fake slutty reputation which will eventually become her reality.

Chapter 4 - Bombay Motel

I pushed myself up as my muscles ached. I looked down at my naked body with my skin full of filth. I felt so dirty with spunk oozing out of my holes and dried cum affixed to my most private of places. My school uniform that was on the wet cum-filled ground, the symbol of my fake persona, was ripped, torn to shreds, and ruined beyond repair. As naked as I was at that moment, I knew there was absolutely no way I was going home like this, but I just wanted to get the hell out of this fucking alley. As I hobbled towards the opening of the alley, a woman, who looked to be as old as my mom, appeared. She was dressed provocatively as she leaned against the brick wall, smoking a cigarette.

"Rough first night, sweetheart?" she asked but didn't sound sympathetic. She took a hard puff from her cigarette and blew the smoke out in a slow deliberate stream. "Bill has a liking for new girls. Breaks 'em in good. Gets 'em ready for the real work." She scanned my body as she complimented me, "You got a good look. The guys like the young, innocent, busty types. Makes 'em feel powerful and gives them more things to play with during sex than just pounding your holes." She let out a coughing laugh, "You're not so innocent anymore, are you?"

She pushed herself off the wall and walked towards me. She reached out and tucked a strand of my matted hair behind my ear, her touch surprisingly gentle. "Look, kid. You got two choices. You can try to forget tonight and go back to whatever little pathetic life you had left before you were gang raped. But knowing how this situation goes, it won't get you back to how it used to be. You'll be just another broken, traumatized, little girl seeing the faces of all these bastards that fucked you in your sleep every night and you'll flinch every time a man gets too close to you. Or...," she paused, stubbing out her cigarette on the brick wall, "You can own it. Accept and be proud that your a whore. They already took it for free. Might as well enjoy it and get paid."

She pulled a crumpled twenty-dollar bill from her purse and pressed it into my hand. "Go get yourself a room at the motel down the street. The one with the flickering vacancy sign over there. Tell them Clara sent you."

She continued, "Clean yourself up. There should be clothes in the closet for you to wear. Also, get some sleep and when you wake up, you decide if you want to try to piece together your old life or join me and the girls out here on Blossom Street making your own money and getting as much dick as you want." She then turned and walked away, disappearing back into the city. I stood there clutching the twenty-dollar bill in my hand. It looked dirty and abused, just like me.

I looked down the street at the motel she pointed to. I made a half-assed attempt to shield my naked body with my small hands, but I was still mostly exposed walking down the sidewalk as my body jiggled with every step I took. The old Yanni, the one who played the high school slut, was no more. So was the other Yanni, the pure innocent girl who was too scared to even think about sex. That alley had baptized me into something new.

I shoved the door to the motel lobby open and a wall of cigarette smoke hit my senses immediately. An old Indian man, stood behind the counter as I slapped the crumpled $20 bill on the countertop and said, "Hi. Clara sent me."

A slow predatory grin spread across this man's face as his eyes devoured every inch of my body. "GOD DAMN," he shouted in excitement. "Clara wasn't kidding. You are one sexy little piece of ass. Drop your fucking arms. Let me get a good look at those big fat tits of yours."

I knew to get a key to a room, I needed to play nice with this man. I let my arms fall to my side and stood there naked with my nipples hardening. "So you want a room, huh, slut," he sneered. "You have to earn it. Bounce those fuckers for me. Make 'em dance." I obeyed without a second thought, leaning back slightly and making my heavy tits slap up and down, jiggling wildly. "That's it, you little whore," he grunted as I saw one of his hands disappear into his pants. "Now suck on one. Suck your own fucking titty for me."

I lifted my right tit into my mouth, my tongue swirling around my nipple before I took it between my teeth, biting down gently as I sucked. A low moan escaped my lips as I saw his arm move faster in his pants in an up and down motion. "Here," he grunted, tossing a single, rusted key onto the counter. "Room 201. Now get the fuck out before my wife walks in here."

The whore that started developing in me didn't want to leave before I made this man empty his balls. I leaned forward, planting both of my big soft titties right on the sticky countertop surface. I looked him dead in the eye and gave him the most wicked, sexy, cock-hungry smile that I could muster as I said, "Thank you baby."

He took the invitation instantly as his rough calloused hands mauled my tits. He twisted and pulled on my nipples and I couldn't stop moaning. "Fuck," he growled, "Clara always finds the filthiest whores."

He whipped out his hard veiny cock, springing free from his pants, as he left his post and met me in the lobby while saying, "On your knees, slut. Hurry! Now!" I dropped to the floor without hesitation, my bare knees pressing into the tiles. He stood over me, furiously stroking his thick shaft in front of my face with his head already leaking precum. He then commanded, "Open up, whore."

I opened my mouth and he immediately forced his way down my throat until I gagged. My eyes watered instantly. Tears running down my cheeks. He didn't care. He just held my head in a vice-like grip and started to fuck my face, using my mouth like a cheap cunt. His heavy cum-filled balls slapped against my chin with every brutal thrust. "Fuck, yeah," he groaned as his hips continued to pound my mouth. "Take it all, you little bitch. That's it. Choke on it."

I was a mess. Saliva and precum dripped from my chin, coating my tits. I could barely breathe. My throat stretched to its limit around this man's thick shaft. But through the gagging and tears, I was loving every second of it. I loved being used, being degraded, being nothing more than a hole for this man's pleasure. I reached to cup his balls, massaging them gently, urging him to give me everything he had.

"Look at me," he snarled, pulling my hair back. I looked up at him, my eyes widening and my lips stretched around his cock. "You're a fucking natural. A born cocksucker."

He pulled out suddenly, leaving me gasping for air. A long, thick, string of saliva connected my bottom lip to the tip of his dick. He slapped his cock against my cheek and then my forehead, marking me as his property. "You want my cum, slut," as he taunted me. "Beg for it. Beg me to cum all over your fucking tits."

I arched my back, holding my tits up, and pushing my arms together. "Please," I begged. "I need it. Cum all over my fucking titties. I need your hot thick load all over me."

He let out a loud grunt as he stroked his cock furiously. I opened my mouth, sticking out my tongue, as thick, white, warm ropes of his cum splattered all over my tits. He aimed his last spurts directly into my waiting mouth, filling it with his salty seed. I held it there, letting him see his load pooling on my tongue before I swallowed it down with one big gulp.

He wiped his cock clean on my face and tucked himself away as he walked back behind the counter. He complimented me as he said, "Damn, your fucking perfect. You are truly are made for sex."

I smiled as I rose to my feet with his cum dripping from my body onto the tiled floor. I grabbed the rusted key and turned to leave just as the lobby door swung open. An Indian woman, in a manager's uniform, entered. Her eyes locked onto me, then widened as she took in the sight of my naked body still glistening with her husband's cum. It wasn't the sight of a naked girl in her lobby that enraged her. It was the sight of her husband's seed glooped on my skin.

Her face showed how disgusted she was as she turned away from my cum drenched body to her husband, who was wiping sweat from his brow behind the counter, and then back to me. "You disgusting whore," she hissed, her voice trembling with rage. "Get the fuck out of my sight."