Freak is an Ugly Word

Here's the second chapter. Thank you all for read, rating and reviewing. I wish I could thank the reviews personally, but I really don't know how. lol. Very new to this site.
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Typical. Just typical. Princess had known something like this would happen. Every few weeks the power in the Narrows went out. It was just something that happened. The norm for the scourge of the city. Only problem was, when it was dark in the Narrows, it was dark. Not even the moon could provide them with any ray of light. The darkness was so thick it would consume any light that dared to shine upon it.

She felt her way out of the bathroom, bumping into a few object along the way. Once she was out, she moved to the middle of the room and stood still. She knew the layout of the room very well, but in the pitch black it all seemed different. The one thing she noticed was the curtains were shut. They had not been when she had first entered the bathroom. With her foot she felt around the floor. Her clothes were no where to be found as well. That could only mean one thing, her customer was somewhere in the room. Too bad she could not see him.

Closing her eyes, she took in a deep breath, listening for any sounds. Nothing. Only the noises coming from the streets and the room next door. Now, this upset her. Princess took pride in her acute hearing, so her not hearing anything put a damper on that.
An arm snaked its way around her waist and she let out a small yip in fright. Her heart rate instantly increased. The man giggled at her reaction. “Aw, did I scare you, Princess?” His voice was nasally, whiny, high pitched, yet somehow still manly. It sent shivers up Princess’ spine.

“What did you expect to happen when you snuck up behind me in the dark?” she asked darkly. Mentally she slapped herself. This was a customer; she could not react harshly to them.

“Feisty, aren’t we. I like that.”

“What else do you like?” Princess seductively asked. She could admit, seducing was not her strong suit and did not try it very often. Just let them do their business and pay her. That’s all that really mattered. Money.

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.” That earned a roll of the eyes from Princess. “Don’t roll your eyes at me,” he hissed.

“Do ya have night vision or somethin’?”

“Nope, just ate my carrots as a kid. Now, don’t move, this will hurt for only a second.” He moved his hand from her waist to her neck. Not squeezing, but just barely holding it. His hands were rough and callused. She liked that. Only women should have smooth skin. Men were meant to be rough and ragged.

Princess’ heart started to race. Her breathing quickened. For once, she cursed the dark. Not being able to see what this man was doing let her imagination run wild. There were just so many possibilities, all of them more horrific than the first. Then she felt cold metal bite into her flesh.

“He’s another thing I like, knives.” Ever so slowly he drug the knife down, making a small incision on her shoulder blade and warm blood trickled from it.

Surprising herself, Princess moaned in actual pleasure. That had been the first time someone had used knife play on her. The others usually just beat her. But that, that sensation was quite different than the rest. It hurt, but it hurt so good. Her back arched and she felt herself become wet. One of the rare moments of actual arousal.

“Sounds like someone likes pain. My kinda girl,” he stated huskily in her ear.
He pushed her forward, bending her at the waist his hand still holding her neck. When his tongue came into contact with the cut she inhaled sharply and goosebumps erupted across her flesh. After he had licked the line of blood from the cut, he bit down on it and started to suck harshly. It was as if he were trying to drink her dry.

Princess’ knees became weak and she nearly fell. He held her in place by wrapping his free hand, knife seemingly disappeared. She wanted to scream, beg him to stop. The pleasure of it was just too much, and pleasure was something she was not used to. On second part, she did not want him to stop. She wanted this moment to last forever. Stay forever in the blissful pleasure she was feeling.

Sadly, she knew it had to end. Great pleasure always had its ending. It was just so rare for her; she could not help but wish for more. Not many people could offer her this amount of pleasure in a small period of time. It must have only been five minutes from the time he had first pushed the blade to her skin.

Princess then did the unexpected. She managed to turn around in his grasp, ripping his mouth from her shoulder blade only to crash her lips on his. Both of her hands gripped each side of his face. The man’s face was greasy and something, what she guessed was makeup of some sort, came off on her hands. Her thumbs touched his cheeks and she rubbed them. Scars, she felt deep rigged scars and he flinched at the touch. If it were not for her grip on his face, he would have pulled away. She forced her tongue into his mouth and he let her. He knew what she wanted. She wanted to taste it. Taste her own blood.
This was only the second man she had ever kissed, the first being Croc. His lips were much different. Croc’s were rough and scaly from his skin disease. This man’s were smooth in comparison, though a little chapped.

Kissing was not something she did very often. Not many prostitutes do kiss. Kissing means attachment, and you could not get attached in that line of work. They had to keep themselves separate from their customers, because that’s all they were, customers. Very few of the women actually kiss their men. When they do, it’s because they are regulars and they had become attached to them. Some of them even fall in love with them and they would run off with them. Others liked being who they are and getting to sleep with multiple people and choose to stay. Then there was Princess, forced to stay while her father racked up even more debt for her to take care of.

This man had done something she thought nearly impossible. He had ignited such passion in her that it filled her body to the brim and more. Having no where to put it, she tried to force some of it in him. It seemed to be working. His hands were wrapped in her hair forcing her face all the more closer to his. His other hand gripped her hip tightly. Somewhere in the flurry of movements, she had lost her towel. It had gone unnoticed until the man had touched her.

Trying not to break the kiss, Princess fumbled with the buttons on the man’s shirt. Her hands were shaking too much for her to undue them properly. She was naked and she be damned if she was going to be the only one. In her aggravation, she released a growl against the man’s lips. She broke the kiss only to rip the shirt he wore open. With a clatter, buttons landed in all different directs.

The man cackled a high pitched airy laugh as her lips came into contact with his chest. “Anxious, aren’t we?”

Princess growled in response as she bit and sucked on various parts of his chest. Her hands roamed his torso. More scars. What felt like bullet wounds and straight lined scars from the edges of knives. She did not mind scars, men were supposed to have scars, at least that was her opinion on the matter.

With her so close to him, a mixture of smells hit her nostril. Gasoline, smoke, and gunpowder. There could have been more, but the smell of gunpowder drowned out the rest. The sent of gunpowder was always her favorite. It was the reason why she would go to the gun range with her father and brother, besides the fact her brother always begged her to come with so that he could keep an eye on her. Out of everyone she had been forced to leave behind, he was the only one she missed.

“Gunpowder,” he heard her whisper. She had stopped attacking his chest and just breathed him in. He could tell that she was lost in some kind of memory. Memory of a past that she would have rather forgotten. Well, it was time to make her forget.

With his hands still wrapped in her hair, he tilted her head to the side. He bent down and ran his mouth from her jaw line down to the crook of her neck, searching for her most sensitive area. When he reached the crook of her neck she shivered. On that spot, he bit down on it hard, drawing blood. Most women would have cried out in pain, but not Princess. She moaned and her knees became weak once again. The girl was really not used to such things.

Once again, his arm wrapped around her waist supporting her. As he lapped up the blood she shivered and moaned again. Her nails dug into his chest, ripping the flesh open. The moans were great, but he grew tired of hearing them. What he wanted to hear was her scream.

Almost blindly, he led her to the nearby table. He had a vague idea of where it was. Once the small of her back bumped into it and he heard the keys scrap across the word, he knew they had reached their destination. He hoisted her on the wooden object and forced her to lay back.

Princess lay there waiting on the cold of the wood in anticipation. She could hear him unbuckle his belt. The wait was killing her. It felt like an eternity for him to even do such a simple task, but every time she moved to sit up and help, the grip he had on her left hip tightened and his nails dug into her skin.

The dark was not her friend. She could not see what he was doing, nor tell the time. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. Only a few seconds have passed, but it felt like hours before she heard him unzip his zipper. She bit her lip waiting. Nothing came. She was about to sit up when it happened.

He plunged inside of her. Most men took their time, her not being fully wet. When a woman was not fully aroused, the man was more likely to hurt himself than her. Not him. He just dug deep inside of her, pulling her hips toward him bringing himself in even deeper.

She screamed then and her back arched. Pain and pleasure all mixed into one. The perfect mix. Nothing for her could compare to it. Never has she felt both together. Never did she realize that she was a masochist until he had shown her the pleasure of pain.
Reaching above her head, she gripped the edge of the table. She had to do something with her hands and he was not allowing her to sit up still. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he thrust inside her once again.

He shifted, leaning forward slightly. Gripping the table with his right hand, he settled his next to hers. He used the table as leverage as he viciously thrust in and out of her. His left hand was clawing at her, scratching her tender flesh. She did not mind it in the least bit, enjoyed it in fact.

With every thrust, a scream erupted from her lips. She was being loud, probably disturbing all in the hotel. At that moment she did not care. Could not bring herself to think of anything but the man’s constant hard thrusts. By most standards, the man was large, large enough to bump her cervix. For most women that would have been painful, but Princess found it painfully enjoyable.

How much time had passed, she did not know. Nothing else mattered at the moment. All was forgotten. Slowly, she felt herself build to a climax. She held onto it for as long as she could, trying to savor every moment of this seemingly endless pleasure.

He felt her body quake under him. She was close, so close, as was he. He did not know how much longer he could hold on. Each scream that came from her lips brought him that much closer. But those were not the screams he wanted to hear. He wanted the scream. The hair raising scream of absolute pleasure and passion. A scream that he knew she would provide for him. He just needed to wait a little longer. Just a little longer.

He did not have to wait long. Princess could no longer hold on any longer. She let it go. The scream he so wanted to hear left her lips. Her grip on the table tightened and she felt her nails want to give and break. She was sure later if she checked the wood would have deep scratches marring it.

The scream was enough for him. He climaxed before he even felt her muscles contract around him. Panting, he laid his head on her chest, still inside of her. Her heart beat was erratic and breathing the same speed. A film of sweat covered her body and he knew it was the same with his. He just needed to catch his breath and he would be gone. He had so much to do; taking this little detour was worth it. She had been everything he had thought she would be. After studying her for a few weeks, he had figured out what kind of person she was. No, he was not stalking her. He had just heard something about her of interest to him, and wanted to test it. This little get together was just to see if what he suspected was true, and it was. He was never wrong about people.

There was no need to worry about pregnancy. All the girls were on some form of birth control. That was common knowledge. Not a soul that had paid for a woman’s company would have to worry about her coming to his door step her belly fat with child. It was true that birth control was not always effective. Some of the girls still got pregnant. Most of them opted for an abortion, others just left until the child was born. Princess had met a few women that had several children, not finding it in themselves to murder a part of them. Princess had never had to worry about it, and did not know what she would do if it did happen. Most likely, her decision would be made for her.

Princess’ heart rate slowed as did her breathing. She was near to tears, but she would not cry, not in front of a man that she knew nothing about. Her hand went to his hair and she played with it, doing anything to stop thinking about the tears. Twisting it around her fingers and running then through it. It felt greasy, but that could have just been from the sweat that covered both of them. When finished with his hair, she moved to his face. She wanted to feel the rough ragged scars again. Just touch them once more before the night was done.

When her fingers grazed his scar he grabbed her hand. “Don’t do that,” he said. He wanted it to sound threatening, but was too tired to put forth the effort.

“Why, because of the scars.” She stared up into the black ceiling. “I don’t mind scars. In fact, I like them. Seeing a man with scars is better than one without. It means the man has done something with himself. He’s lived through something that some have not. A man with scars is less likely to beat me.”

The last was said barely above the whisper, but he had heard it. “How many men have beaten you, Princess?”

“More than I can count. A lot, I guess.” Why was she telling him this? He was just a customer. “Doesn’t matter. It’s my life and I have ta live it.”

“Poor, poor, Princess,” the man stated moving his head. He planted a kiss on the center of her chest and she shivered when his hot breath brushed against it. “Princesses should not be beaten. They are meant to rule, not be ruled. Besides, you’re too pretty to hit.”

“How do you know what I look like?”

“I’ve been watching you for a while.”

“Watchin’ me? You’ve been stalkin’ me?” Princess felt fear creep up on her. She had heard about men stalking some of the girls. It always turned out bad. The women would show up dead in some alleyway. Princess may hate her life, but she did not want to die.

“No, no. Stalking is such a harsh word. Just watching. I’ve heard some interesting things about you and had to see if they were true. Let me tell ya, ya didn’t disappoint.” He stood straight up and detached her legs from around his waist. Taking a step back, he pulled out of her making a small whimper escape her lips. She rolled on her side and curled up in a little ball. “Now, it’s been fun chattin’ with ya, Princess, but I have ta go. Got so much work to do. I’m sure we’ll be seein’ each other real soon.”

“Where are my clothes?”

“On the bed. I would suggest that you take a shower before you head out, you have makeup on you.”

Princess was confused. With her first shower all her makeup was washed off. How would she get more on her?

The door opened. “Hey,” she called before she heard it close. “What’s your name?”
“Joker,” he answered and Princess could hear the smile in his voice. “Just call me Joker.” And with that, he was gone, the door shutting quietly behind him.

“Joker? That’s a strange name.” She said aloud.

After what felt like a few minutes past, Princess pulled herself off of the table. As was suggested to her, she took a quick shower. Feeling around on the bed she found her clothes on put them on. After her thigh high books were on her feet, she made her way downstairs.

Walking came a little harder for her. She was sore. At least she had an excuse for walking funny. The man, or Joker as he called himself, had pounded her viciously. At the time, her body had taken great pleasure in the pain. Now, it just hurt.

She made it down the stairs and was about to head out the door when Bib stopped her. “Hey, Princess,” he called to her from his desk. A single but big candle sat in the middle of the desk. “Come here.”

Princess sighed in annoyance but walked over to the man. “What is it, Bib?” she inquired harshly.

“I know ya want ta go home, but ya don’t have to take that tone with me.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled, chastised. “I’m just really tired.”

“I bet cha are. I’m sure half of the Narrows heard ya.” Princess flushed in embarrassment. “Don’t worry about it kid, happens to all the girls every once in a while. I didn’t call ya back ta give ya a hard time. He left you somethin’.”

“Really? What?”

From somewhere beneath his desk, Bib produced a hoodie styled jacket. He tossed it to her over the desk. “Said he left you a few things in the pocket.”

The jacket was small and just her size. This meant Joker had bought it just for her. From the meager light the candle produced, it looked to be a dark shade of purple. She put it on and smelled the tell tale signs of gunpowder. After zipping it up about half way, she reached into the pockets. In one pocket there was a wad of bills, all hundreds. Princess gaped at all of them. That had been the most money she had ever seen in her life. In the other pocket was a joker playing card. The little man on the card was colored completely in black, wore a jester’s hat and held up a scepter to his chest. His mouth was opened, forever laughing.

Princess could not help but smile. “I’m going home, Bib. See ya tomorrow.” She left.
Bib watched her go. When she was a good distance away from the hotel, and there were no signs of her turning back, he sighed. “How long you plannin’ to stand there watchin’ her go?” he asked the man lurking in the darkness behind them.

Joker stepped into the light. “Just a little longer. It’s nice to watch her walk away.” He turned to Bib, a smile on his painted face.

Bib shivered as Joker’s dark gaze hit him. The man was very unsettling. His face was painted chalk white to his ears. Circled around his eyes was makeup black as coal. From nearly ear to ear a red grin was painted on his face, enhancing the scars that went to the same length. The paint on his face was smeared from the sweat of his previous activity along with Princess’ passionate kiss.

“What cha plannin’ to do with her, Joker?”

Joker’s shoulders lifted and lowered in a shrug. “Just a little bit of this, a little of that. Well, maybe a lot of that.”

“Ya gonna use her, just like everyone else.”

“She’ll be used to it then, now won’t she?”

“I sold her soul to the Devil,” Bib sighed.

Joker cackled his high pitched laugh at the man. He had been called many things, most unpleasant, but Devil was a new one. He rather liked that one. “Have you ever danced with the Devil in the pale moonlight?” Joker asked the man.

“No, and I don’t care to.”

“If your metaphor is correct, then Princess just did. I think she rather liked it.”

“Why you so interested in her?”

“She intrigues me. I heard talk about her on the streets and had to see what it was all about. They call her many things, none too pleasant. The one that intrigued me the most was ‘Freak Lover.’ I wondered what could have caused such a nasty name, then I spotted her man. Croc is his name I do believe.”

“Yeah, Croc’s his name, but I wouldn’ call him her man. They live together, but aren’t together. Croc lover her, but she don’t love him like he loves her. Princess says she feels bad for it, but she don’t think she could love anyone. With the life she’s had, I can see why.”

“All the better.” Joker smiled and Bib shivered at it. “I don’t need some girl havin’ feelings for me. She’ll just become a nuisance and get in the way. I’d have ta kill her then. Don’t want to kill Princess; it’ll just ruin my fun.”

Bib looked at the man horrified. There was no doubt in his mind that Joker would kill the girl. He did not want that. He wanted Princess out of danger, out of the life she had, he did not want an end to it. “Don’t kill her,” pleaded Bib.

Joker’s head tilted to the side. “Now, why would I go and do a thing like that, hmm? Only a monster would snuff out the life of such an amazing creature. Do I look like a monster to you?”

It was a trick question and Bib knew it. Instead of answering, he kept quiet. He knew that it was a stupid thing to do, but he did not want to put into words of what he thought about the man. They would only get him killed and he was not ready to die just yet.

“Hm,” Joker licked his lips, “no answer, uh?” Means you do think me a monster. Normally, I would kill you, but I don’t have the time. Have so much to do and so little time to do it.” He headed toward the door. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Don’t want to stay away from Princess too long. She might lose interest. Can’t have that. I have so much in store for her.”

Bib watched the man leave. After he was out of sight, Bib relaxed. He ran his right hand over his balding head. What had he done? If he would have known that the man was just as horrible as the mob, he would have never mentioned Princess. He wanted Princess out of the mob, but not in danger. That man, Joker, seemed full of danger. His very presence reeked of the horrible deeds he had done.

How could he have done that to her? Bid had done nothing but try and protect the girl, but to no avail. She was always hurt. The life she lived was harsh, and she was so young. Still just a girl in his eyes. Too young to be doing what she was doing. Well, it had not been her choice. That decision had been made by her father. Such a horrible man. To condemn his daughter to prostitution to work up the debt that he had dug himself into. She suffered because of him.

That suffering was the reason that Bib had turned to Joker. He had heard that the man had it out for the mob. It sounded like such a good idea at the time to talk to him about her. Thought he would save her. Help her. If he had known what kind of man Joker was he would have left well enough alone. Princess might have been better off with the mob. Bib regretted his choice.

But the past could not be changed. The past was certain. Only the future held uncertainty. Bib prayed with every once of himself that the uncertainty would benefit the girl.
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Hope you guys enjoyed it. Please review and tell me what you think. Good and bad. This is the first time I have attempted to write one of these stories and I would like to know what I need to improve on. Any input would be greatly appreciated. Thank you!