What’s a girl to do? I was sold by my parents as a young girl for what I believe was the sum of two hundred dollars. That’s how desperate and poor they were. I was taken to the city to be a child prostitute. How I survived what I endured from ages eight to fifteen is beyond me. The fact that my little body was able to handle it all, survive the disgusting infections and violent abuse that came with the sex. The men were already too big for me, but I got through it. By the time I was a teenager, I was ready to kill them all. I wanted to start with Ninto, the man who took me from my family, but that would have left me more vulnerable, so I plotted in secret. Eventually, I met Madame Sarago, who lived on the outskirts of town. I was sent to her to get a medicine for a weird sexual infection that was going around, and when she saw me she knew what I really needed. I told her my life story over tea, and she explained to me that something similar had happened to her as a young girl, and that she had removed herself from society and dedicated her life to the study of plants and magic. She gave me my first orgasm, as well, teaching me how to actually find pleasure in my body instead of letting it be used as an object for others to get off in. In addition to the medicine for the infection, she gave me a packet of powder to use on my visitors. The next one that visited was a sad, lonely man, but I saw him with new eyes, I saw myself with new eyes. This was a privilege to be with me, he sensed this change in me and could not get hard enough to get off. I offered no assistance. Ninto could tell something was off when the man left, but he had paid so there was nothing he could really scold me for, but I knew he was watching me. The next one was violent, I had seen him before and he liked to hit my face. I offered him water before he left and made sure to sprinkle a quarter teaspoon of the powder from Madame Sarago and mixed it in well. He downed it, and I never saw him again. She had told me to try to give it to them as they were leaving, but when Big John came I couldn’t help it, I gave it to him when he arrived. Big John was one of the most violent customers, I usually was bruised and slightly bloody when he left, so I thought it best to administer this powder, whatever it did, in advance. Sure enough, he drank it, and as soon as he started messing with me the hitting began, harder than usual, I thought, although I was also hardening myself to all of this, finding objectionable what I had come to expect as not quite deserved but part of my place in the world. It was while he was thrusting in me, an action I could tell he tried to make as painful as possible to me, that his heart must have just exploded, for he gagged on his tongue and his eyes bulged and all two hundred and eighty pounds of muscle collapsed on top of me. I screamed and Ninto came in to help deal with the mess. There was no reason to suspect anything, but Ninto didn’t trust anything or anybody, so I knew that was my one mistake. In fact, it seemed clear that it was time to remove Ninto from my path. Whatever came next would be better than this, I didn’t need to know what it was, I trusted that Madame Sarago might even know people who needed someone to help with work. There was no way to get Ninto to drink something I offered, he would immediately sense my intent. No, I would have to kill him good and proper with a weapon but he was much stronger than me. I began stashing weapons all around the room and while lying in bed practiced reaching down and grabbing them and whipping them up to where his neck might be. I would have one shot, one movement, that was it. There was a hammer near my dresser, long knives in the closet. But it was the razor that did the trick. As he usually did once a week or so, Ninto came in to use me for his gratification. When he took me from behind it was impossible to do anything, but then he said he wanted to lie back and have me bounce on him. This was a rare request, and the position was ideal. I watched his face intently, waiting to see when he began to lose himself in his pleasure, and that was when I whipped out the razor tucked under the mattress and slashed his neck as hard as I could. The look of shock on his face as the torrent of blood splashed my body was one of the most joyful and satisfying sights of my life. Will it ever be topped? Let’s hope so, by something more joyful. Knowing that I had succeeded was everything. I felt his penis ejaculate in the frenzy, which made me laugh. Then i laughed even harder, thinking that the last thing this stupid, evil man would see was my beautiful naked body slathered in his blood laughing at his death while he feebly ejaculated. The French call it the “little death” so how poetic to have it accompany such a grand, big death. I sat atop him as he died, taking immense pleasure in savoring his demise, the seeping out of his life, his cock and body both going limp for the last time. When it was over I just looked at his face for a while, studying the man who controlled such a huge portion of my life. From now on, my life would be mine. Mine and no one else’s. I washed languorously, unconcerned with anyone interrupting me. The keeper was here in the room, dead. Afterward, I collected my things, packed some food from the kitchen and walked out of the house with my bag, never looking back, never wondering what would happen. I would vanish into society, a free woman.
October 29, 2022