Memories of a Street Rat - 5. Call me Daddy

Working the streets for two years I’d met all kinds of tricks; from politicians and police to lawyers, school teachers, social workers and pretty much anything else you can think of. If they were horny and had the cash, we hooked up. Sometimes it would be a horny and lonely traveler in town for a convention and other times some local guy wanting a quick blow-n-go in the nearest alley. There would be men that wanted to top me and call me their bitch till they got off and others that wanted to have me turn them into my bitch. If it was anything beyond a quick suck or fuck, I tended to prefer the guys that fantasized about being dominated by a teenager and I quickly learned how to accept that role, but it’s whatever the guy paying wants; within reason. No matter what role I was being hired to play, it was typically agreed to first when I accepted the offer.

The ones that wanted to be aggressive towards me I normally charged more since I might not be able to work for a few days depending on what happened or I’d end up with a black eye or bruises which cut down on my marketability as a clean cut teenager. No matter what the game was with them, I tried to figure some exit in case things went bad. Alleys were easy since it was my home turf and I knew the terrain, but once in a while some guy would think it might be easy to rob the kid that’s blowing him; not smart when your groin is an easy target. Hotels could be a little trickier since it usually meant getting naked; I’d make sure all my clothes were in one spot to more easily grab if I needed to run. I’d also try to pay attention to if the security lock was used so that wouldn’t delay a hasty exit.

Most of the tricks I had were just simple sex that took under ten minutes; under five for the over excited ones. An exchange of cash, a quick suck or fuck and head our separate ways. It didn’t matter to me if it was in an alley, a car or a hotel room somewhere, even in a park bathroom sometimes or bathroom inside a business; hell, confessionals and other spots in churches were used several times as well. I knew all kinds of places to take a guy to get him off quickly. I did get taken to home once in a while by the trick, but that tended to be rare due to the risk to both them and me; they were more often repeat clients that had build a sort of mutual trust with.

The best tricks were the ones that wanted to get me off. A business man in a nice suit on his knees in a filthy alley was usually the most generous. Guys like that I usually tried to take someplace a little better; the bathroom at Starbucks or some other business even though some of them seemed to get off on the risks in an alley. The tricks that leaned more bottom for me also tended to be the ones that would become repeats like the one that sort of became my boy and a couple guys from the House of Delegates from both sides of the isle. Even though some of these guys made me sick, they paid well, I got off and they weren’t abusive.

The worst guys tended to be guys that dreamed of having sex with their sons, school teachers or coaches with desires for their students and the conventioneers who are only in town for a few days and figure the anonymity of dealing with a teenage hooker gives them the power to do more than they normally would. Odds were that those guys would get rough and I’d have to fight back. Sometimes I got hurt, sometimes the trick got hurt Thankfully a lot of the guys just talked about their fantasy while having quick sex.

Some of the tricks though did want it to be more role play than just talk. I couldn’t count the number of times I had to call someone “Daddy” or “Coach” during sex and pretend to be a ‘good boy for Daddy and help him out’ or an athlete willing to do anything for a spot on the team. It wasn’t so bad with the guys that dreamed of just having sex with their son; a father/son bonding through somewhat consensual incest and I could play that role well enough. It did get bad though when the fantasy was of overpowering their own son and forcing them to have sex, usually while the boy is sleeping. Wanting to pin them down and fuck them. Some guys talked about wanting to fuck their son hard while hearing cries for it to stop; rape would be the most appropriate word for what they wanted to do. In their fantasies regardless of how they pictured it, I took the place of their son and hopefully spared their son from becoming a victim. Again, with a lot of those guys it tended to be them just talking about their fantasy while we had sex, but their descriptions as they talked could get extremely vivid. They were paying for my time so if they wanted to talk during sex, they talked and I gave them what they wanted as best I could. A part of me tried to convince myself that the guy didn’t really have a kid or that he’d never actually touch him. Sometimes I’d lie awake at night hoping that I wasn’t the trial run before actually going after the son.

As bad as it was with the guys that wanted to rape their son, the guys that talked about not only raping their son themselves but then wanting to share the boy with all his buddies really did scare me and I had gotten to the point where most of these fantasies I’d hear didn’t affect me; you take the money, do the job and walk away. It didn’t have much effect on me when I’d get knocked around by customers, but just the thought that these guys wanted to gang rape and whore out their kid I couldn’t block out; it was far worse than what my parents did to me. I’d walked out on a few of those jobs and I’m not sorry to say I left one or two of those tricks on the floor curled up in pain and needing to come up with a good excuse for the black eye he was going to have. I could always find another trick and even if I lived off my mouth, dick and ass, I had my limits.

No matter how much self defense you know, how much you try to be ready for problems, when you’re naked in a room with a stranger on your back or other position, you are at a disadvantage. I’ve fought my way out of out of a few motel rooms and have left a few tricks lying on the ground as I ran away. I’ve also been over powered by one or more guys when it was suppose to be just one trick at a hotel. After it happened once, I tended to check and make sure the bathroom was empty as well as making sure the door was closed.

One guy picked me up when I was working the streets during my second summer. We negotiated price and he drove us to a cheap motel. I’d been to plenty of them and knew the drill; stay out of sight until he registers and then follow him to the room. It was slightly different this time since he already had a room when we arrived. That always put me on edge unless it was one of the nicer hotels. I knew he wanted me to call him Daddy and was bored with the thought of another Daddy/son session, but he met my fee so I’ll call him Daddy and it was going to be one of the easy and relaxed daddy scenes; wanted his boy to help him out.

We entered the room; I made him walk in first and I checked the dark bathroom before relaxing somewhat. He handed me the agreed upon cash as he guided me to the bed. It was the typical bullshit I’d heard dozens of time, “Daddy finally has his precious boy all to himself,” and other stuff along those lines. When he started in with, “I know you’ve been sneaking peeks at Daddy in the shower or when I’m changing and when Daddy’s fucking Mommy,” that I knew it was time for me to start my role with talking about how strong and hot Daddy is and how I wish my dick was as big as his; how I hope I grow up just as strong as Daddy. I had most of the script down from previous tricks. I just had to modify slightly depending on the guy. He threw out something about me finally being old enough to show me what I was meant to do; just more of the bad script these guys formed in their heads even if they really wanted it to be real.

He tried to kiss me and I only let him get as close as my cheek which he chastised me for and said I’d have to be punished for not giving Daddy a proper kiss. He began to pull off my shirt before taking off his own. By the time we were naked, it was more of the usual, “Since you’ve been trying to see Daddy’s dick for so long, why don’t you get down on your knees and get a closer look. I’ll show you what a real man looks like.” I did what was expected and got on my knees to give a ‘look of wonder’ at what he had.

I was about to start blowing him when the script changed. The door burst open as two more guys came into the room. When I turned my head to look towards to new comings, ‘Daddy’ grabbed me. I grabbed for my clothes as I swung my first at the nearest target. With three on one, they quickly had me pinned to the bed, wrenching my arm behind my back. One of the guys was carrying a duffle bag, but at that point it wasn’t my main focus. “You’ve been a very bad boy, teasing me and your uncles all the time, running around it your tight clothes, stripping down to your underwear in when it’s just us men, showing off that ass of yours to everyone and always trying to check me and them out. It’s time for your punishment and time I take what’s mine.” I realized that in my haste to make sure the bathroom was clear I didn’t notice him pop the door open slightly and I silently cursed myself for the mistake.

It quickly got rougher then I would have allowed if I could stop it, but at that point all I could do was go along for the ride and hopefully get them off quicker than they’d like. While they took their turns there were comments of, “I wish we were raping you in your own bed, with all your stuffed animals and toys around.” One of the others that was supposed to be an uncle for the scene had to throw in, ”can’t wait till we go on a Uncle/nephew camping trip so I can fuck you every night out on the woods where you can scream your head off.” I did get warned by them that if they felt any teeth, I’d lose them and a lot more. I really considered biting down as hard as I could regardless of the outcome. The ‘daddy’ joked with the others about how much they were going to make whoring his son out when the three of them had him properly broken in and trained. At one point when he was on my back, pounding away he was going on about how long he’d waited to feel his son under him and couldn’t wait for it to happen again.

All three took turns at both ends. If I made too much noise, I’d get a fist to some part of my body as punishment. I took a hit to the face more than once for struggling too much. One of them seemed to enjoy giving punches to my ribs and using his belt across my back and ass cheeks. When they finished, I hoped I’d be able to leave, but they pulled out some rope and a gag from the duffle bag. As with everything else they’d done, they weren’t gentle with the rope and I could feel it biting into my wrists and ankles no matter if I struggled or not. They high-fived each other as they inspected their work with the ropes.

I was somewhat thankful that they were taking a break. I couldn’t see everything they were doing, but knew they were drinking and smoking. I wished I couldn’t hear them as they talked about how to rape ‘Daddy’s boy’ next. Round two made the first go look and feel like they’d been gentle with me. Anytime one of them wasn’t in my mouth they shoved the gag back in to keep me quiet; it tasted horrible. I barely remembered the third round as I finally passed out either from the hit to the face or the pain form whatever they were currently using to whip my back.

When I woke I was alone in the room. The clock on the nightstand said it was 8:30am. The gag they had forced into my mouth was still in place but the ropes had been removed thankfully. I had a brief thought of being found by housekeeping naked and tied to the bed. Evidence of the ropes will always remain visible on my wrists from how raw they were and ankles would fade in time as they healed. Those injuries were probably the least painful of the lot. The bed was soaked with all kinds of fluids including my blood. I could feel the stickiness from them all over my body and it was obvious they hadn’t used condoms; I could feel everything that had dried on my face and elsewhere.

It took me a few minutes to find my clothes and I wasn’t surprised that the money I’d been paid was gone, along with my shirt and underwear; most likely trophies. Thankfully I still had my shorts and shoes, both of which were also soaked, especially since the key to the train station locker that contained my backpack was inside my shoe. Walking into the bathroom, I examined myself in the mirror; I’ve looked worse I thought, at least from the front side, but wasn’t sure if I’d felt worse since the beating my dad gave me. My back definitely looked worse than it ever had. I rinsed off my shorts and shoes and laid them over the A/C to dry while I showered and did my best to scrub away any remains of them from my body. The water and soap stung where it touched the welts on my back from everything they used. Soaking in the hot water after my shower did manage to sooth my sore muscles some while I tried to ignore the pink tinged water.

I was just leaving the room when housekeeping was about to knock. The woman seemed surprised to see me; not sure if it was my age, being shirtless, the black eye or a combination of all those; probably that the room was most likely supposed to be empty. I told her the room was a mess and I didn’t cause it. She ran to the office to get the manager I guessed and I was taking off before they called the police. The managed did try to stop me to find out what had happened but I ran as best I could and didn’t look back. I heard him gasp as I turned my back to him. I hoped I never saw that motel again.

I retrieved my backpack from the train station and went into the bathroom to put on some clean clothes to cover the bruises to my body and the striping of my back. I was thankful that all that could be seen after that was my black eye and a bit of a bruise on my neck. My back didn’t seem to be bleeding anymore, but if it did, hopefully my backpack would cover it what got on my shirt. I got some cheap food since I was starving and found a quiet place to rest. I hoped the guy really didn’t have a kid and that if he did it was just a fantasy that was reserved to be used with guys like me.

It sucks when stuff like that happens, but I viewed it as an occupational hazard of being a sex worker. Occasionally a bad hookup happens; you deal with it and move on to the next customer. It wasn’t the first time and probably wouldn’t be the last. The next trick or two will make up for my losses and I’d have to be more vigilant when going into a cheap motels.

The outward scares don’t seem as noticeable to me and to others they just give me a rough look. The scares on the inside are easier to hide even though they run deep; and like the visible ones, I try to use as reminders that I beat those people who felt I had only one use; I survived.