Me and My Uncle Ch. 10

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Sophie encounters a predator.
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Part 10 of the 12 part series

Updated 10/21/2022
Created 11/01/2005
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jack_straw
jack_straw
3,218 Followers

It was a rainy weekend in April, 1992, not long before I was scheduled to graduate from Mizzou, that my luck began to run out.

Even now, 13 years afterward, I still get a chill when I think back to that weekend. For four years as my Uncle Bill's whore, I had managed to skate through without running into any true psychos, without encountering any bondage freaks, without being truly physically abused.

That all ended in mid-April when Uncle Bill arranged a weekend for me with one Curtis Miller. What that man did to me that weekend was the trigger that brought my days as a whore to an end, but not before I had to endure several shades of hell, first from Curtis and then from Uncle Bill.

This part of my story isn't pleasant at all, but it's necessary that I tell it, so you'll understand why I had do what I did to get away from my uncle and flee Missouri as if my life was at stake, because it was.

I never learned how Uncle Bill met Curtis Miller, because they appeared to run in two completely different circles. My uncle was country to the core, without a lot of education or sophistication, a man who made his living as a humble storekeeper, barowner and pimp.

Curtis Miller, on the other hand, was one of the most powerful men in the state, a senator from somewhere down in the Bootheel who had spent a dozen years in the Legislature. He was a lawyer by trade, and he owned a big secluded house in the country outside Jeff City. He was around 40, with an aura of power, and - as I learned right from the start - a considerable amount of menace.

By this time, my uncle and I were barely on speaking terms. Ever since the Labor Day trip, our relationship had gotten more and more strained as our tastes diverged.

Uncle Bill was drinking a lot more than he ever had before, and he was spending a lot of time in Jeff City, much of it with a tough crowd at Cosmo's and at other dives. And his sexual tastes were getting a lot kinkier, which is probably where he encountered Curtis.

One of the last times I had sex with my uncle was right before New Year's, and it scared the hell out of me.

He had gotten a call the day before from a guy he described as an old buddy of his from the Air Force, and had gone off that day to meet him in Kansas City. He had planned to spend the night in the city, so they could go out partying.

I was supposed to be off that night, so I had kept the bar closed, and was anticipating a blessedly quiet night by myself, when I heard someone trooping up the stairs. Seconds later, Uncle Bill came roaring in with his friend, whom he introduced as Kyle.

Kyle was a fairly nondescript-looking fellow of average size, except for a bit of a beer belly. He had sandy-blond hair with a mustache and sideburns. They both had a fiery look in their eyes that told me they were pretty lit, and I began to get a funny feeling in my gut.

They had decided not to stay in the city because the weather had turned bad and Bill wanted to make it home while the roads were still open. He had invited Kyle to come with him, and he didn't have to explain why. I could tell from the leering look I was getting that Uncle Bill had told his friend all about me.

Ever since the Labor Day fiasco, I had been able to avoid Uncle Bill's advances on a pretty regular basis, either by working, getting away to Columbia to study or claiming I was on my period.

But it was snowing hard and I couldn't get out of the apartment, it was between semesters so I couldn't claim I was studying, and he knew I wasn't on my period. So I was stuck, and, frankly, I was a little horny and I figured there wasn't much they'd dare do to me.

Once they got settled in, with the help of a handy six-pack from the store's cooler, Bill told me about a shop they'd found in one of the seedier areas of the city. Along with videos, magazines and sex toys, the store sold erotic clothes, and he had found and bought an outfit he wanted me to model for them.

It was a leather strapless bustier, complete with a slit at the crotch, and knee-high boots. I was a little uneasy as he showed it to me, because of the unusually excited look in my uncle's eyes as he handed it to me.

I was also a little apprehensive because he wanted me to "doll myself up," in a manner that I usually reserved for special clients. Besides the heavy, whorish makeup, I was instructed to slick my hair real good and pull it back in a tight bun.

In spite of my nagging concerns, I have to admit that I was feeling my arousal begin to build once I got the outfit on and fixed my makeup. The way the gusset of the outfit exposed my sex was quite stimulating, as well as the snug fit of the outfit. The top of the one-piece outfit barely covered my nipples, and the way it was made enhanced what little bust I had.

In any other situation, I would have felt very sexy indeed appearing with this outfit on my body.

They were sitting at the table when I emerged from my little bedroom, and they both gave me an appreciative whistle. I strutted in front of them and studied their eyes, and the way they were each kneading their crotches, squeezing their hard cocks through their jeans.

Kyle was especially goggle-eyed, and I got the distinct impression that he was someone who didn't get laid all that often. I decided to give them a little show, so I pulled the material off my tits, licked a forefinger in a very seductive manner, then took the finger and circled my rock-hard nipples with it.

I cupped my little breasts in each hand, not caring that my girlish mounds were a far cry from those of the strippers they had undoubtedly been anticipating that night.

I sashayed up to where they were sitting and they each wrapped an arm around me and ran their hands over my body. I gasped as Kyle's fingers slid between my wet pussy lips and he entered my hot depths. Another hand reached up and groped my tits, and I could feel my concerns slipping away as my arousal climbed.

At that point, I suggested that we retire to the bedroom, where we could have some room to play in a little warmer area. The main den of the apartment tended to be a little drafty in winter, but the bedroom I still shared with my uncle could get pretty toasty once the door was shut.

Once we were in the room, Uncle Bill and his friend shucked their clothes, and they were both bursting hard. Kyle's cock was like the rest of him, relentlessly average, about 6 inches and of modest thickness. I squatted on the floor, took both cocks in hand and worked them until a hot dollop of pre-cum boiled out the tips.

Once I had them to that point, I slid Kyle's cock into my mouth, all the way in one thrust. His length was an easy fit, and I gave him my best professional blowjob, rolling my tongue around his shaft. I sawed his dick between my lips, licking the underside, then crammed him back in my mouth.

Kyle gave out a strained groan, and Uncle Bill laughed wickedly at that.

"Didn't I tell you it would be worth the trip," Bill said. "I told you my niece is the best cocksucker in the whole state of Missouri. Aren't you, dear."

That really threw a bit of a wet blanket on my arousal. I wasn't sure if he was complimenting me or mocking me, and it really didn't matter. I was tired of those kind of "compliments" from my uncle. I was weary of being known as the best fuck, the best suck, the best whore in the area.

A few years earlier, my self-esteem had been such that I believed that being a whore was all I was good for, that sex was what defined me. But the previous months, I had developed other relationships outside my uncle's circle, and I had developed other skills, other talents besides sex. I had begun to realize that I had a lot more to give than just my body for the lust of others, that I was more than what was between my legs.

I think Uncle Bill noticed the change in my body language as he spoke, because he pulled my head roughly off Kyle's cock and rammed his cock past my lips and into my throat. I think the viciousness of the way Bill attacked my mouth took Kyle aback a little bit, because for the first time I saw a worried look on his face.

But Uncle Bill was oblivious.

"Play with yourself, whore," he growled. "Show Kyle here what a real horny slut you really are. Show him!"

I did as I was told, slipping a finger between my bubbling lips and rubbing my swollen clit with my right hand, while my left hand continued to softly stroke Kyle's cock. Bill's cock kept up a relentless pace in my mouth, and I could barely keep from gagging on it, my experience notwithstanding.

Abruptly, Bill wrenched his cock from my mouth, and I gave several heaving gasps of air while he maneuvered me onto the bed, on my knees. I had barely gotten into position when Bill aimed the head of his cock at my opening and pushed himself into my pussy with one screaming thrust.

"C'mon, buddy, get up here and let my niece show you how much she likes to suck cock and eat cum," Bill said, panting as he gripped my hips and fucked me with a wildness he hadn't exhibited in a long time.

Kyle lay back on the bed in front of me, his cock slightly wilted after he'd seen the way Uncle Bill was treating me. But it came right back to life when I took it by the base and fed it back into my mouth. I gave Kyle's throbbing hardness my full attention, although it wasn't easy with the way Bill was pounding my pussy.

In spite of my anger at the way he was doing me, I could feel my climax beginning to reignite from the friction of Bill's cock on my clit. But he wasn't going to make it easy on me.

"Show Kyle what a dirty, filthy whore you are," Bill said roughly. "Get down there and lick his ass. Rim his butt good, like the filthy slut you know you are."

I felt a hot flash of rage at his request, but I didn't have a chance to react, because he gripped the back of my neck and pushed me toward the junction of Kyle's legs, where his hairy butthole was located. Fuming, I managed to get Kyle's legs up in the air and put my face between his cheeks.

This was something I'd had to do for Uncle Bill a few times before, along with a few other clients, and I hated it. To me, there was nothing more demeaning than being forced to lick a man's sweaty asshole. Fortunately, Kyle was relatively clean back there, and I licked him all over and felt his cock twitch in my fist as I opened him up with my tongue.

I could tell that the sight of my tongue working in his friend's ass put a charge in Uncle Bill, too, because his thrusts back and forth in my cunt became, if anything, harder and more frantic. Kyle was writhing on the bed as I returned to his cock and inhaled his boner.

I was just in time. As I worked my head up and down in a vigorous motion, Kyle stiffened and I felt his cock spew a hard, thick load of cum. He filled my mouth with his creamy heat and I swallowed all of his tasty seed as he slumped back on the bed.

Seconds later, I heard Bill grunt hard as he exploded with a half-dozen or more jets of cum deep in my pussy. He pushed his cock to the hilt and emptied himself in my womb, basting my slot with a really thick, copious amount of semen.

Of course, I was left high and dry, as my orgasm had been shredded with stops and starts. I had just gotten back on track when they both came, so I was still horny, and frustrated, as their cocks began to soften.

It was after the men had come down to earth a little bit that Uncle Bill made his suggestion that it might be a real turn-on for them to tie me to the bedposts, and take time to, as he put it, " really light your fire."

I think maybe he thought that if he brought it up when I was in need of an orgasm, that I might be more accepting of his suggestion. But as frustrated and as needy as I was at the moment, I wasn't about to willingly accept such an act. Fact is, I freaked out. I screamed hysterically, called him a pervert and begged him to please never, ever make me do something like that.

Of course, I was still pissed off at the way he'd treated me, making me rim Kyle's ass and fucking me so roughly. But there was more to it than that.

Just the idea brought back a flood of bad memories from my three years in the juvenile school back in Oklahoma. One of the worst things those girls ever did to me was tie me up one night and torment me for hours on end. It had a lot to do with a sense of claustrophobia, and a loss of control that terrified me.

Little did I know.

Anyway, Uncle Bill backed off, especially when Kyle told him that it was OK, that I didn't have to do that. I wonder what would have happened if Uncle Bill's friend hadn't been there to provide a restraint on him.

"Well, I know you didn't cum," Bill said. "So why don't you give us a show. Let Kyle here see that horny, cum-filled pussy get a workout."

Still trembling with emotion, I reluctantly rolled onto my back and hesitantly ran my hands over my body. Like a magnet, one of my hands found my cunt, and my throbbing clit. I rolled my bud around with a finger and felt the sparks of lust beginning to build.

I closed my eyes and tried to think pleasurable thoughts of sex, rather than the roughness of the recently completed encounter. While one finger massaged my clit, I thrust two fingers of my other hand into my gooey cunt and fucked myself with them. Quickly, the feelings began to mount, but it was taking me awhile.

When I opened my eyes, I saw Bill and Kyle kneeling on either side of me, jacking their cocks furiously as they watched me work both hands in my pussy. I didn't care whether my uncle ever fucked me again, but I felt like I should at least give Kyle a taste of my pussy, especially since he seemed to be a fairly decent guy.

"C'mon, Kyle, come on down and put your cock in me," I whispered. "I can make you feel a lot better than your hand."

He didn't hesitate, but scrambled between my legs and shoved his cock in my cunt. After Uncle Bill's big cock, Kyle's relatively smaller dick didn't do much for me, but just having a fleshy stalk in my spastic pussy sent my climax to a peak.

I arched my back as a modest orgasm crashed through my body, followed hard on the heels by an explosion of cum as Kyle shot off in my twitching cunt. I looked up just in time to see Uncle Bill reach his nut strokes, and he gasped as he shot a second large load all over my face.

He shot streaks of cum on either side of my nose and across my eyes, then stuffed the still-spurting head between my lips so I could suck out the last dregs of his climax.

After that night, I began to spend more and more nights in my old little bed, especially nights I worked. I wanted to give him as little chance as possible to use me like I suspected he wanted to use me.

We had sex twice more after that, and both times it amounted to something close to rape. He finally got tired of me putting him off, so one night in March, he just took me when he came home drunk and I was asleep after having worked through a succession of men.

Our last sexual encounter I'll tell you about later, because it was what finally drove me to leave him once and for all.

By April, I was spending a lot of nights in Columbia, enjoying the comfort of Janelle's love and working hard on my senior project. I was also talking to recruiters for various companies about going to work for them after I graduated.

I had gotten friendly with a lady at the university's placement office, a Mrs. Lasko, who was impressed with my portfolio, liked my attitude and who was steering me toward some very good offers. I also had a good advisor and a couple of well-placed professors who were in my corner.

In other words, I had finally started developing a support network that I could use to help me when I got out on my own. And there was no question I was going to go, even though I had not broached the subject with my uncle since the Labor Day encounter.

Trying to finish my course work and finish it with a flourish was causing me to miss a lot of nights working the upstairs apartment. Uncle Bill had, in fact, recruited a couple of the local barflies to fill in for me when I didn't come home from a hard day on campus.

But that didn't sit well with my uncle, and we argued about it constantly. He wanted me for his whore, like always, not some skanky local girl. Whenever he mentioned picking up the pace after school was out, I just changed the subject, which pissed him off even more. I think he set up the thing with Curtis Miller as an attempt to teach me a lesson.

I learned a lesson, all right, but it wasn't the one he intended for me to learn.

That Thursday, I called him to say I wasn't going to come home until late, that I had a symposium to attend, and he was strangely nonchalant about it.

"That's OK," he said pleasantly. "But be ready to work through the weekend. I have a special client that wants you for the weekend, beginning tomorrow. Sophie, he's paying top dollar - in advance - for you, so I want you on your best behavior. This man can steer us into a whole new clientele, a group that will put us on Easy Street."

I felt an odd sense of foreboding at that. It indicated to me that he was completely oblivious to the idea of me leaving after I graduated. Moreover, it sounded like he intended to drag me even deeper into prostitution, at the very moment when I was trying to work my way out of it altogether.

The next afternoon when I returned to the apartment, Uncle Bill was strangely excited. He showed me a cashier's check in the amount of $3,000 that Curtis Miller had sent him. That was Senator Curtis Miller, as it read on the check.

Again, I felt a little flutter of concern. I had heard of Sen. Miller, and I knew of his reputation as a powerful mover and shaker in state politics. It seemed odd. Why did he want me for a weekend, when a man in his position could get any woman he wanted, and not have to pay three grand for her? What made me, a poor little whore from the country, so special that he was willing to shell out that kind of money, in advance, for my services?

I mean, I was good, but I wasn't THAT good, and you would have thought that a single man in his position would have had upscale women stumbling over themselves to spend time with him.

And then there was the get-up Uncle Bill had laid out for me to wear. It was a leather mini-skirt, a tight white tank top, with a pair of thigh-highs and I also had a leather jacket that pretty well matched the skirt. Finally, he laid out my sluttiest pair of high heels.

I had come a long way since that night at Cosmo's when I had barely been able to walk in heels. I had learned to walk and act like a royal courtesan when I went out on these dates with private customers.

That was part of the fantasy that I was able to create. I knew these customers wanted more than just some roadhouse whore for their money. They wanted a girl who could at least pretend she was a lady, a lady who would become a tramp at the drop of a hat.

In spite of my poor, slutty background, I had, through sheer effort, managed to develop a little veneer of sophistication, a sense of self-assurance that I could never have dreamed of four years earlier. That self-assurance was about to be tested mightily.

The outfit Bill wanted me to wear was a little out of the ordinary, but it wasn't all that unusual. The make-up was, however. He had some dark, almost black, lipstick, with nail polish to match, that he wanted me to wear, along with dark eyeshadow and heavy mascara. He said that was what Mr. Miller - his words - had requested. It was almost a Goth look, and, once again, I had a little niggling of doubt about the encounter.

Still, as I drove into Jeff City in a light, steady rain, I put all of the lingering doubts behind me and concentrated on giving the man his money's worth. I could see the light at the end of the tunnel looming ahead, and I figured just a few more weeks of this kind of work, and then I could leave it behind me for good.

jack_straw
jack_straw
3,218 Followers