Author’s Note:
This is an unedited, ongoing serial that will eventually be published in novel form. Plot/characters/elements are subject to change as it is being written. It’s currently in 1st person/present tense, but I may change it to past tense, excluding the first chapter which will act as an intro. Read at your own discretion and take note of story tags below.
Genre: Post-Apocalyptic sci-fi
Tags: prostitution, graphic sex, large age gap, violence, theft, drug/alcohol abuse, depression, rape, gang rape, cannibalism, murder, incest, child/infant death and abuse, general abuse, (more to be added as the story goes)
The second his dick pushes into me, I realize this is a serious fucking mistake. Panic hits me like a punch in the gut and I scrabble forwards on my hands and knees, desperate to escape. My vision’s blurry and not just from the sweat pouring into my eyes—I feel like I’m having a stroke. My client, probably wondering what the fuck is going on, doesn’t move for a few seconds. The guy then comes over and puts his arms around me, patting my back gently as he goes tut tut in my ear. I lean right into his embrace and sob on his shoulder for a while, just bawling like a fucking baby.
When the tears have run their course, I pull back, face warm with embarrassment but he’s just staring at me with sympathy in his brown eyes. He’s average looking, maybe even on the ugly side, but there’s something about those eyes that makes me wonder why he has to pay for sex—surely someone else can see he’s a decent guy. That’s scarcer than water around here.
I think about trying again—I mean, he only just got the tip in… maybe after a few thrusts I’d be fine. I need the money. We need the money.
But just the thought of giving it another go has me trembling again.
“Give me your pad,” he says.
I frown. “Why?”
“So, I can pay you.”
“But—”
“Buddy, you look like you need it.”
After some arguing back and forth, he agrees on a blowjob in exchange for the credits. Down on my knees, I go all in and give him some of the best head I’ve ever given… but all the while, I’m wondering what it’ll take to open my hole for business again. What if my whoring days are through? I certainly won’t miss it, but what else is there? I think about Pytre’s suggestion: bodyguard. I did all right with that blaster at Turk’s, didn’t I?
I try not to gag as my throat is suddenly flooded with cum, swallowing down the guy’s load like I enjoy it, then give his cock a quick tongue bath to clean him up.
Satisfied, he thumbs my pad and pays me the original price we’d agreed on for a full fuck not just a blowjob, but he won’t back down.
I watch him walk away as I rub my mouth. Nice guy. Again I wonder what’s he doing on a shithole like Chornoboh-7.
+++
I can’t work the door code with my arms full, so I lean my forehead on the glowing button, waiting for Apple to let me in. After a moment, the door opens a crack.
“Oh, it’s you,” Apple says with a relieved sigh, letting me in. He’s wrapped a towel around his head, half covering his face. As soon as the door closes, he pulls the towel off and tosses it on the bed.
“You don’t look half as bad as you think you do,” I say, shaking my head. “Don’t be so vain.”
Apple’s single blue eye glares at me—the green one was lost to Turk’s violence and the wreckage hides beneath a silver eye patch that he never takes off, even to sleep. Despite the doctor’s nimble fingers and fine stitch work, the right side of his mouth is permanently twisted up, puckering in the corner where it meets the shiny pink scar zigzagging up his cheek.
I could mourn the loss of Apple’s prettiness, but there’s something weirdly appealing about his new battle-hardened face.
“I’m not vain. I’m ugly,” he says, staring down at the packages I dumped on the bed.
“If you were so ugly, would I do this?” I cup the back of his head and plant a kiss on his soft lips while giving his backside a good firm squeeze. I frown, measuring his ass cheek with my hand. He was still losing weight. “Apple, you have to eat.”
“What’s the point?” he says, heaving another sigh, but I can see the way he’s eyeing the package of cookies.
“Go on. I got them for you.”
He grins, pecks another kiss on my lips, and sits down to tear into the cookies. I touch my mouth, shaking my head. Funny how kissing is so… normal now.
“Where’d you get the credits?” Apple asks, his mouth full. He brushes a few crumbs from his bare chest and goes in for another cookie. “You worked?”
“Yeah.” I sit down on the corner of the bed and take a cookie for myself. It’s not very good—it tastes old and slightly rancid, but that’s all I can afford.
“And?”
“And it didn’t go well.”
“Oh.” He stops stuffing his face to take my hand.
Yesterday, when I was starting to mentally prepare myself to go back out on the streets, he shared a few stories about being brutalized by clients at the brothel—an attempt to commiserate over our unfortunate experiences. All it did was make me feel weak. If he’s able to function with all the shit he’s been through, why am unable to? It was one time.
“I panicked,” I say, looking down at his hand holding mine.
“It’s ok,” he says gently.
“It’s not ok,” I growl, taking my hand back and standing. “We’re going to starve to death because I can’t get my head out of my ass.” I pick up the other packages of food, all of them cheap and recently expired, and stack them on the storage unit near the foot of the bed.
“I can—” Apple starts, but I shoot him a warning look. He lets his shoulders fall and stares up at the ceiling. “I don’t know why you don’t want me whoring no more. I been doing it so long I can’t remember not doing it.”
“Because I don’t want you to.” I run both hands over my shorn grey hair, closing my eyes with a sigh. “I’m going to try again tomorrow.”
“Ok.”
“I just… don’t understand why it’s happening. It’s not like they hurt me that much…” I feel Apple’s arms come around me from behind and I hang my head, forcing myself to think about Turk’s men. I feel sweat prickling my armpits.
“It’s ok.” Apple rests his chin on my shoulder. “Tell me what happened today?”
I think about the sheer ball-squeezing, gut churning panic. “I just couldn’t go through with it.”
“Fucking or getting fucked?”
“Getting.”
“What about fucking? You ok with that?”
I honestly don’t know so I shrug.
“Do you want to give it a try?” Apple’s hand slides down my chest and he slips it into my pants, cupping my soft cock and balls. I shrug again, but I know I’m not going to be limp for long.
“C’mon.” Apple leads me back to the bed and has my lie down on my back while he undoes my zipper. “Up.”
I obediently lift my hips so he can strip my bottom half bare and then he straddles me. I’m getting flashbacks to the last time we made lo—
I close my eyes and shake my head. The last time we fucked.
It takes a few minutes before Apple can get me hard enough to penetrate him, but when he settles down on my dick, he tilts his head back with a moan, feeling me swell and get harder inside him. “Oh that’s nice.”
“Mm,” I grunt in reply, holding onto his skinny hips.
“Feel good?”
“Mm.”
“No ill-effects?” He starts to slide up and down my cock slowly like a human piston and my dick gives a happy twitch.
This time I smirk and shake my head.
“Want me to go faster?”
“Yes, please,” I reply.
“Like this?”
“Yeah…”
The door clicks and Apple’s head whips around, his body freezing in place with my dick buried deep.
“I’m sorry I, uh, didn’t realize you were…” Pytre stammers. “I’ll go.” He’s been cleaning rooms for Drenner to pay for our room, sometimes ten hours a day. I figure he’s probably exhausted and wants to lie down, so I start to lift Apple off me, but he puts a hand on my chest.
“I think you should stay,” Apple says to the ex-Rimer. “And join in.”
“What?” I think Pytre and I blurt it out at the same time.
Apple’s laugh jiggles my dick and he turns back to look down at me, his blue eye twinkling with mischief.
“Watching you two dance around each other is frankly exhausting,” he says, jouncing up and down a few times, injecting a little life back into my flagging boner. “You both want it but can’t figure out how to actually get around to doing it.” Apple grins, wiggling his hips.
“Apple, I don’t think—”
“I know what happened at Turk’s is what is fucking you up… but you’ve been acting extra weird since you found out Pytre’s a eunuch,” he says then glances over his shoulder to where I’m guessing Pytre is still standing. “And you’re confused because you thought he wanted you but suddenly he’s backed off and been treating you with kitten gloves and you have no fucking idea how to tell him you want him. I’m just saying you could fix that now.”
I don’t think it’s possible for me to feel any more mortified than I’m feeling right at this moment and I just want to sink into the bed. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look Pytre in the eye again.
“Kid gloves,” I mutter, rubbing my face. “Pytre… I don’t know what—”
“Yes.”
My eyes pop open and my lungs stall and I’m not sure if I imagined Pytre’s answer but his next words remove all doubt.
“Yes… I’d like to join in.” He comes into my line of vision and I see his cheeks and ears are bright pink. His hazel eyes lock with mine. “But I don’t know how.”
Apple tosses his head back, the scar on his cheek becoming a deep crevice as his smile goes wide. “Thank fucking holy Rime,” he says.
“I don’t think Rime would approve,” Pytre says. For a second I think he’s being serious, but then a slow grin creeps across his face and I laugh.
