Hey! Who here has been tested for the clap? Yeah. Me neither.
Men, you might want to be sitting down when you read this one...
Men, you might want to be sitting down when you read this one...
Limp Dick by Erik Storey
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Chandra had been bitch-slapped for the last time.
But Limp Dick, as she’d started thinking of him, didn’t know
that. Luckily he didn’t try it again, just screamed, “I know you holding out,
bitch. You got the high ends. They pay for all the weird shit. And all you bring
me is the straight-rate monies? This shit’s gonna stop. You bring me twice the
green tomorrow or I’ll fuck you six ways from Sunday. Got it?”
Chandra pretended to cower and pretended to grovel. “Okay,”
she said, and Limp Dick left the little brown hotel room, stuffing the rolls of
bills into the pocket of his pearl-snap shirt.
He was right about one thing. She was holding out. Big time.
One of her clients, Fingerman, paid her an extra hundred if she stuck three
fingers up his ass while she jerked him off. Another she called “Pillows,” who
paid an extra five hundred for what he called the “blackout-blowout.” He would
stick his head inside a pillowcase and smother himself while she gave him head.
Two of her guys paid extra to lick her toes, and one guy paid her two big bills
a day just to lick her armpits.
Because she was smart. And she was careful. Her mom thought
she was finishing college. Which she was, in a way, although Chandra had
graduated (but didn’t walk) a year ago. She’d learned more about sociology in
the last year than she had in all four years at school. Not only did she have
enough money to keep her and the kids afloat, she now had enough to pay off the
school loans. She was free and clear and ready to start a real life.
There was just the little problem of Limp Dick, and his
correct suspicions. Chandra had prepared for this, and she had a plan.
***
“You bring it all this time?” is what Limp Dick asked on the
phone an hour before he came to the hotel.
“With more from the back end,” is how she answered, knowing
that he’d show and be happy.
When he did show, he pretended not to be happy. He walked
into the little shabby room, saw the piles of bills on the puke-colored
bedspread and jumped into his angry mode. “Where the fuck’s this been, baby?
You think I can protect you and set you up with the men for the money you’ve
been giving me? I shoulda been seeing this every goddamned day.” He strode over
to her, and wound up with another backhand.
“Use this,” she said, before he completed his swing. He
looked confused, unsure what she was doing. Or why she was holding a
straightened wire coat hanger. But he took the proffered wire and held it while
Chandra took off her robe and bent over the bed, offering him her naked ass.
The first couple blows with the thin metal stung like hell.
Chandra had to bite the dirty bedspread to keep from crying out, but she knew
it was worth it. The next few strikes weren’t as bad, because she knew that
between the money and the sadism, Limp Dick was finally getting hard. And a
hard, lusty man was easy to control. It was one of the many things she’d
learned this last year.
“Let me show you something, a trick that one of my specials
likes,” Chandra said finally, unable to endure anymore of the whipping.
“Oh yeah,” he said, “what’s that?” He stopped smacking her as
she turned around on the bed and sat before him. She unbuckled his pants.
“That’s right,” he said. “Show daddy something special.” He
wasn’t paying attention as she pulled his pants to his knees. He was staring at
the stacks of bills on the bed.
Which distracted him enough for Chandra to take the wire
hanger, rub it around the head of his dick, then plunge the blunt metal into
his pee-hole. She pulled his dick toward the ground and jammed the hanger
further in.
Due to the metal blockage, at first there was surprisingly
little blood that oozed out the man’s dick. But there was enough of a constant
flow to make Chandra turn her head, stumble to the bed and grab her robe. She
left him on the filthy carpet to bleed out, then took a shower.
When she exited the bathroom, fresh and clean and fully
clothed, Limp Dick lay on a stain of dark red shag. She checked his pulse,
found none, and left the room.
As she walked down the hall, heading to the exit that would
take her to the bus station, she giggled. She and her kids were free of the only
man that would’ve followed them into their new life. She could get a job and
start something else. But she was going to have to change the nickname she’d
given her pimp. Because, due to the wire, and later, rigor mortis, he would
never be limp again.
