Chapter 1

 

Virginity was an asset rare among Slumniplex girls of eighteen. Shann was a notable exception. Shyness, rather than lack of desirability, was the reason for her maidenhood remaining intact, long after her friends had willingly surrendered theirs. Having been orphaned at an early age, Shann had been brought up by a domineering aunt, who had instilled in her an almost pathological fear of men.

Emm was forever trying to rid her of this strange phobia. Her best friend was two years older than Shann and had taken her under her wing at the age of seventeen, after her aunt was killed in a beer brawl. Emm was the archetypal slummie girl - wild, promiscuous and carefree. She had learned at an early age that her body was the currency that could buy her everything from a winter wrap to a six pack of Nitro beer. With Shann to protect, she found herself fucking for two. Not that she minded. As long as she was careful whom she dealt with, trading could be fun. She treated Shann like the little sister she had never had.

Rain beat down on the cracked pavement of the Slumniplex as the two girls raced towards the distant flickering light of a blues club, bare feet splashing in the puddles. Bolts of lightning flaring across the night sky illuminated their way. Slumniplex dwellers had not known electricity for over five years, since the supply had been cut by the Outworld authorities.

"Hurry up!" Emm shouted, glancing over her shoulder.

"I'm running as fast as I can!" Shann panted. "Why did we have to go out tonight?"

"Because there's something happening, that's why," Emm patiently replied. "And if you don't hurry up, we'll miss it."

Shann sighed, miserably struggling to keep pace with her friend. Though she loved Emm like a sister, she could sometimes be a pain. Shann was mystified by her restlessness, her constant search for some brief escape from the drab poverty of Slumniplex life. For Shann, their being together was enough. When she wanted to escape, she had her dreams.

As the drenched and breathless pair staggered up to the front door of the derelict building which served as a blues club, they were greeted by a shaven headed doorman in scuffed army surplus boots and an ankle length brown leather trenchcoat which had seen better days.

"Where do you two think you're going?" he demanded gruffly, bathing their faces in the flickering orange light of his blazing torch.

"Can we come inside?" Emm pleaded, in her best little girl lost voice.

"That depends," he replied. "Can you pay?"

She nodded. "I can pay."

He glared at Shann. "What about her?"

"I'll pay for us both," Emm answered.

The big man thought for a moment, then untied the belt of his trenchcoat. It fell open, revealing hard muscled and hairy nakedness underneath. Emm knew just what to do. Without prompting, she fell to her knees on the wet ground and ran her tongue over the flaccid tube of his cock. Within seconds, it began to lengthen and thicken, rearing its bulbous purple head against Emm's face. Gripping it at the base, she opened her mouth and accepted the full length of his shaft in her throat.

Shann watched, both repulsed and fascinated. She could not understand how Emm could bear to take such a thing, in her mouth of all places. The older girl had frequently tried to explain that not only was cock-sucking an enjoyable way to trade, but that semen also contained vitamins and protein. Shann did not care. If she wanted protein, she could eat cheese.

Even as he thrust his cock back Emm's throat, the doorman was watching her blonde friend. By any standards, Shann was a gorgeous creature. Small, though exquisitely formed, and all the more enchanting because of her apparently complete ignorance of her own sexuality. Emm was a brazen and buxom wild child, with dark gypsy looks, and she utilised her assets with a vengeance. But given the choice, most men would have passed over the vixen for a chance to enjoy her angelic sidekick.

The doorman took several minutes to reach his climax, during which time Shann began shivering uncontrollably. Emm gulped down her favourite protein source, treated his drooling cock eye to a flick of her tongue for good measure, then rose to her feet.

"That's one paid for," he said, belting up his coat.

"Aw, come on," Emm pleaded. "We'll catch pneumonia out here."

He shrugged. "Tough shit. You said you could pay for two. Either you do just that, or one of you can fuck off and catch bubonic plague for all I care."

Emm sighed. "All right, I'll pay for her as well."

Looking over his shoulder, the doorman shouted to somebody inside the club. An equally bulky Neanderthal appeared by his side, bulging like the Incredible Hulk from a ripped shirt and ragged trousers. Emm scarcely glanced at him, before falling obligingly to her knees.

"I don't know how you can do it," Shann said, once they were inside the dimly lit and dingy club. "It's bad enough having to degrade yourself for the essentials, like food and clothes. But doing it just to get into a dump like this!"

"Give it a rest, goody two shoes!" Emm snapped. "Would you rather I'd left you standing out in the rain?"

"I'd rather we hadn't come here at all," Shann replied. "The place stinks and there isn't even any music. What's wrong with staying in occasionally?"

"It's boring," Emm answered. "You might not mind being huddled up in the dark, dreaming about princes and knights in shining armour, but I like to see what's happening beyond our hideout. Come on, I'll score us a few cans of Nitro."

Shann followed her towards the large table that served as a bar, knowing further protests would be futile. When Emm decided she was going to have a good time, there was no stopping her.

Rough hands groped the girls as they pushed their way to the bar. Shann cringed as she slapped away a hand attempting to reach crudely between her thighs. She detested these crowded dives where faces glowed menacingly in the candlelight and any girl not owned was considered fair game.

"Beer," Emm demanded, fixing the Nitro seller with her most defiant glare.

"So it is," he sneered. "It's for sale too. Want some?"

"I want some," she confirmed.

The wild haired man swayed, having obviously consumed a bellyful of his own wares.

"How much?" he demanded.

"How much does it cost?" she retorted.

He ran his fingers through his beard. "Let's see now. Show me your cunt. If it's shaven, I'll give you one can. Jerk me off, I'll give you four. A six pack will cost you a blow-job. However, if your pretty little friend does the honours, I'll give you twelve."

"I'm the one paying," Emm told him. "And I feel like getting rat arsed. For twelve cans, you can fuck me."

He looked her over, then nodded. "Okay. Step into my office."

Emm crawled under the table and presented herself to him, leaning over the crates of beer on top. The bearded man unzipped his jeans and hiked her wrap up over her bare bottom. Underwear was a luxury few slummie girls could aspire to. For the likes of Emm, who fucked to survive, it would only prove a hindrance.

The bedraggled man pulled the tab on a can of beer and swigged it noisily as he thrust into her slick and shaven gash. Emm could not help responding with a few soft moans of pleasure. Even being screwed by a dirtbag like this was not totally unpleasant.

A few men gathered around to watch and Shann once more felt the unwelcome touch of rough hands. She thought she would rather die than allow any of these men to do to her what her friend so willingly submitted to.

With a final deep gulp of eight percent beer, the bearded man climaxed inside Emm. He staggered backwards, spurting the last of his come over her bottom in creamy dollops. She wiped it up, licked her fingers, then picked up two six packs from the table.

"It's not fair," Shann complained, after they had found a secluded corner to crouch in. "Men don't have to degrade themselves the way we do just to survive."

"Men are different," Emm replied, taking a mouthful of beer. "If they want something, they can either buy it with money or just take it. They live by a different set of rules to us. Here, women are shit. We have to use whatever we've got just to survive. You'll find that out for yourself one day."

"No way," Shann declared firmly. "If I ever do it with a man, it won't be one of these pigs."

Emm sighed. "Shann baby, you've got to start growing up and learning to look after yourself. I love you dearly, but maybe I won't always be around to take care of you. Slumniplex is a rough place and you're not a little girl any more. There's worse things in life than using your cunt for currency."

"Such as?"

"The sweat farms, for one. Do you want to end up working eighteen hours a day for the traders, getting enough food to live on, if you're lucky?"

"There are other ways," Shann insisted.

"Yeah, sure," Emm scoffed. "A handsome prince is going to ride across the border from Outworld on a big white horse and take you off to be his princess!"

"I can dream," said Shann.

"Girl, don't you even dream about Outworld," Emm told her. "That is one fucking place you don't want to go. Haven't you heard what happens to slummie girls that get taken there?"

"They don't come back."

"Right. And I'll tell you why they don't come back. They end up stuffed, kept in glass cases in some perverted Outie's mansion."

"You don't know that for sure," Shann argued.

"I know what I hear," Emm replied. "That's enough. Outfolk are the most evil people on earth. To them, slummies are no better than shit under their shoes."

"Why do they hunt us then?" Shann demanded.

"For pleasure," she replied. "Slummie girls make nice ornaments, especially when they're stuffed. You know what else they do? They ..."