Tanker Fucking

Wanna have some fun?" And in the message was the picture of me from the other day that James took on his phone. My slutty, disheveled image filled the screen. My clit throbbed at the memory. I bit my lip. My phone went off again. "So, slut, who did you fuck today?" Before I could reply, another message. "It would be a shame if that picture found it's way to the dean's office... Do you want the dean to see you like that, slut?" My heart raced at the thought. I could get expelled for that; my reputation would be ruined. How could he do this? The screen began blinking and buzzing again. I hesitantly opened the message. "If not, you will do exactly as I say. Meet me in the alley by the bar on Welsh Street at 8:00 sharp tonight. We'll discuss an arrangement there. If you're late, you will be punished." I stared at the screen for a moment nervous but also anticipating what he wanted me to do. I would love to satisfy all his animal desires. The phone remained silent and no more texts were. Fucking for a living. And a living that had been a dank hole in the ground, in a Kingdom where her very blindness was as good as a death sentence. Whose situation was worse? Sharon who’d had at least some good times in the smoky night-clubs and damp car parks of home? And even had the best fucks of her life not so many days ago? Or Sweetness who’d known nothing but misery and despair ever since her sightless emergence into the world? Strangely, contemplating Sweetness’ dire straits made her own seem the more bearable and in a curious way a source of some guilty comfort. Sharon pulled her naked bruised body over the earth and leaned out a hand in Sweetness’ direction. She couldn’t quite reach the girl, but Sweetness heard her movements. Her face lit up and her sightless eyes looked in her direction with a disconcerting vacuousness. “Joy! Is that you?” she gasped. “It’s me. Sharon.” “Sharon? The tourist. Where’s Joy?” “Joy’s dead. There’s no more Joy.” “Dead. No Joy!” Sweetness weeped,.
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