Raw: The Ultimate Mc Collection (20 page)

As soon as I was born, she wasted no time trying to make money off of me.  She signed me up with modeling agencies, took me to auditions for commercials for diapers, baby food and baby clothes.  And once I could walk, the pageants started.  I was barely able to find my way across the stage when she entered me in the first one.

It was the Regal Princess pageant for children ages one to three.

Unfortunately, I won.

And that little taste of victory spurred her on to enter me into every pageant she could find in Oregon, Washington, Utah and California.  My entire childhood consisted of being primped, made-up, dressed-up and paraded around in front of a bunch of other equally dysfunctional mothers that lived their own fucked-up fantasies out through their children in some kind of sick competition with each other.

And of course, I went along with it.  I was kid.  It was all I had ever known.  Some of my first memories include her  being completely ecstatic about some part I had gotten.  I craved approval.  I was always that kind of girl.  I didn’t know anything about rebellion.  I didn’t know how to say no.  It was all I had ever known.  Hell, I didn’t even know saying ‘no’ was an option.

If I was being honest with myself, I would say it wasn’t an option.  If I ever dared complain, my costume was too tight, my shoes were giving me blisters - the quick pinch of her fingernails on the back of my arm would quickly put me right back on track, and I’d suck it up.

Of course, that was when I was younger.  As I got older, I knew something wasn’t right.  While she was entirely concerned with my physical appearance, and coming across as the perfect, loving maternal figure when some one was watching - behind closed doors, it was as if I didn’t exist.

Left to my own devices, I could care less if my hair was clean, let alone the dress I was wearing.  I was more interested in whether or not she was going to feed me that day or stay locked in her bedroom and forget about that one important task of being a Mom.

She was never a Mom.  I don’t know what she was.  I spent many years trying to figure out why she had me in the first place.  She mostly resented me - that is, when she couldn’t use me to make a few bucks.

When I got older and stopped winning the pageants, the money dried up.  She took it upon herself to find another, more profitable way of using me.

Which brings us right back to this room.

If she hadn’t sold me to Monty when I was sixteen, I wouldn’t be sitting here on this velvet couch, staring up at a strange man holding a dozen eggs in his hand, and regaling me with their beauty.

“…and the pure whiteness of them is just beautiful, don’t you think?” Delicately, he lifted an egg from the carton, holding it up to the light. I was still confused. It was so much easier when they just fucked me, came within twenty seconds, and left me alone in the room for the rest of the night.  Apparently, this guy had something else in mind.

“Sure, sure…” I mumbled through the rim of the wine glass.  I eyed the bottle on the glass table in front of me, trying to determine if there was going to be enough left to get me to sleep.  If this guy kept droning on about eggs, I might not need any help falling asleep at all.

He put the eggs in my lap, and stood in front of me expectantly.  Had I missed something?  I wasn’t being a good listener.  I wasn’t earning Monty’s money very well tonight.

“I’m sorry, Drake, can you tell me what you want me to do with the eggs again?”

He was unbuckling his thin, leather belt, and he let his silk pants fall to the floor.  He stepped out of them, and very slowly and carefully, folded them, taking care not to wrinkle the pleats as he placed them on the table in front of me.  He smiled as he began talking again and he removed his black boxers.

“Well, if you don’t mind, I’d like to play a little game.”   Standing in front of me with nothing covering his pale white skin, except his pair of knee-high black dress socks, he looked ridiculous.

“A game?”  I suppressed a laugh as I watched him walk over and sit on the floor, his back against the wall.  He spread his naked legs, his flaccid penis and balls flopping onto the floor like a slab of raw meat.

“Um…” This was new.

“If you could just take those eggs and sit across from me, please?”

“Sure, I guess…” I said.  Always the good girl, no matter how fucked up or weird it was.  I wanted to say no, throw the eggs at him, one by one, watch the bright yellow yolk run down his perfect body and run out the door, but I knew I wouldn’t do that. Monty was very persuasive when it came to my obedience. But hey, maybe that’s where this guy was going anyway.

“Oh, wait! Could you take off your dress first, please?”

I groaned inwardly, but I did as he asked, pulling the tight black dress over my shoulders.  I stood in front of him wearing only my bra, panties, garter belt, stockings and stilettos.  Those fucking uncomfortable stilettos that Monty always insisted I wear.  I hated them, it was so hard to find a comfortable pair.  Give me a good pair of boots or sneakers and I was happy. 

“Good, good,” he said, as I sat across from him.  “Could you move back a little further?  Oh, yes, yes, that’s it…”

I scooted back and watched him from across the room.  Small beads of sweat formed on his upper lip and his penis began growing between his legs.

“Now, if you could just roll the eggs over to me, one at a time, very slowly…”

Is this guy for real?
I thought to myself.

“Roll them?”

“Yes, just put one on the floor…yes, just like that, that’s so good…yes, Lacey, oh yes…now just roll it towards me, right between my legs, give it a good gentle, but firm,  push…” 

I did so, and tried not to look horrified at the same time.  I smiled, pretending I was onstage somewhere, pretending the fucking stiletto I was wearing wasn’t digging into the back of my ankle.  I could do this.

The first egg wobbled around and stopped halfway between us.

“Um…”  I mumbled, reaching for it.

“Oh, no!  Leave it!”  The growing aggressiveness in his voice startled me.  “Just use a new egg.”

“Oh.”

I pulled another egg from the carton, and pushed it harder this time.  It went further but still didn’t reach him.  I was wondering what the hell he was going to do with the egg once it reached him, but I didn’t dare ask.

“Try again, Lacey.  Harder this time, put some gusto into it!  But be careful not to break it.”

“Okay, sure,” I replied.  “Sorry.”

“Oh, no, don’t be sorry!  This is part of the game, don’t you see?” he asked.  “You are so pretty, Lacey!” His eyes were twinkling and his cock was hard now.

I sighed, picked up a third egg, and sat it on the ground.  This time, I pushed even harder, determined to get it across the hardwood floor to him.

It worked.  I don’t know why I thought he was going to catch it with his hands, but he didn’t.  Instead, he let the egg hit his cock, and as soon as it did, his eyes rolled back in his head and he shuddered in ecstasy.

You gotta be fucking kidding me,
I thought.  
He’s paying fifteen grand for this?  Monty has some seriously fucked up friends.

“Keep going, Lacey, don’t stop, okay?”

I shrugged, picked up another egg, and rolled again.  Now that I knew how hard to push the egg, I hit him every time.

If this was some video game, I would have the high score by now
, I thought.

Ding! Ding! Ding ding ding!

By the time I had rolled the last egg, he had come all over the floor and was slumped against the wall, a thin line of spittle falling down his chin.

“I…uh…I’m all out of eggs,” I said.  I had never been so thankful to be out of eggs before.

“Start over,” he mumbled, as he stroked his softening cock back to an erection again.

***

A light breeze hit my face as I emerged from the hotel.  This had been one of the easier jobs, and yet also the strangest.

Eggs!
I thought, shaking my head as I walked down the street.  He paid Monty fifteen thousand fucking dollars for me to roll eggs at his cock.  For that much money, he could have built a machine to roll the eggs for him.

Rich people were weird.  While I enjoyed the luxuries that Monty provided, I definitely didn’t consider myself rich.  Monty was rich.  His ‘friends’ were rich.  I didn’t disillusion myself for a minute.  I was merely a servant.

A slave, literally.

Sure, I was fed up with it.  I was twenty-two now, more than anything I wanted to have a normal life.  But this was all I had known.  I had never had a normal life, let alone a normal job.

I shook my head as I continued down the street.  The apartment Monty had gotten me wasn’t far and he would be in there and waiting for me, no doubt having been contacted by Drake to inform him the moment I had left. If he ever recovered from his egg-fueled bliss, that is.

Even if I did try to leave, Monty would find me.  Besides, I didn’t have the money to go far.  There was no doubt in my mind that I wouldn’t be able to get away.  And I knew that once he did find me, I wouldn’t be leaving my apartment for a very, very long time.  Monty was adamant that nobody see the bruises he frequently left, so he kept me locked up until they had healed.  And on the rare occasions I pissed him off, the bruises tended to linger a little longer.

But that didn’t keep me from fantasizing about it.

Which is just what I was doing when the black sedan rolled up next to me, the back window slowly inching down as the driver crawled to a stop next to me.

“Hey,” the voice in the back called.  I turned to look and saw a man smiling back at me.  Rugged and handsome, he waved me over.

Normally, I would have ignored him and kept walking.  But there was something about his dark eyes that intrigued me.

What harm would it do to talk to him?
 I thought.  I had never had a real boyfriend.  Never been on a real date.  Not one that someone hadn’t paid for first, and that didn’t count.

My curiosity got the best of me, and I strode over to him.  I knew I looked good tonight.  I had taken extra time with my long blonde hair, and the curls I had so meticulously formed cascaded down my back.  My short black dress hugged my curves perfectly, and the those awfully painful, stupid shoes I was wearing perked up my ass nicely.

I leaned down to look in the stranger’s window.

He was even more handsome up close.  His dark eyes were undeniably sexy, sensual even.  He was dressed in an expensive black suit.  A red, silk tie.  Shiny, Italian leather shoes.

“What’s your name, beauty?” he drawled.  A Southerner. The one accent that brought me to my knees every time.

“Lacey,” I replied.  I smiled at him, hoping to somehow charm him quickly so that I could get back home to Monty without being late.  I don’t know what I was thinking, really.  I guess I wasn’t, I just wanted to feel something real - for once in my life.

“I’m Ben,” he said.  My hand was on his door, and he reached up and stroked it lightly as he said his name.

“Would you like to go for a ride with me?” he asked.  He smelled amazing, and my eyes trailed down his body, taking in his muscular frame.

Of course I would,
I thought.

“I can’t,” I replied simply.  “I have to be somewhere.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes, sorry,” I murmured.

“What if I paid you?” he asked.  I sighed.  Of course, that’s what this was.  Why did I ever think someone would be interested in me in any real way?

I stood up.

“You couldn’t afford me,” I replied, turning to walk away.

“Wait. What if I offered you a thousand dollars?”

I laughed, and continued walking down the street.

“Five thousand?” he asked and I laughed again.

The car began to crawl along beside me.  I could feel his eyes on me, and I shook my head.

“What about twenty thousand?” he said.

I stopped short.  I looked at my watch.  My fantasies of running away had been strong lately, and the offer of twenty thousand dollars paid to me, not Monty, could definitely help with that plan.

Was there time?
I thought.  Monty was surely waiting up for me.  Maybe I could work something out with this guy for later.  Maybe I could call Monty and make up an excuse about being late.