by Mark Anthony
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Earl screamed as I tried to regain my senses. His one blow had literally walloped my ass and knocked me senseless.
“Look at my face,” he said as he grabbed me by my hair and tried to get me to look at him. I tried to look at him but I was seeing double and I couldn’t focus on his face.
“You see this blood?” Earl screamed.
He then mushed my head to the ground and I heard him rumbling around in his room. He then came back over to me and he punched me in my face and kicked me in my stomach. I grimaced and winced and cried out in pain as I gasped for air since the wind had been knocked outta me.
“Shut the hell up!” he barked as he stuffed something in my mouth and then held it in place by tying something around my head. It felt like a T-shirt.
I wanted to fight back but I felt like I had just been in a fight with a heavyweight boxer and lost. So I didn’t have the ability or the strength to fight back even if I wanted to.
“You wanna scratch motherfuckas, swing on motherfuckas, and bark on motherfuckas?” Earl screamed.
Then he went to his door and closed it and locked it and he came back to me and grabbed both of my arms and held them behind my back and he began tying them with what felt like a silk shirt or some other silky material. I tried to wiggle my arms free and as soon as I showed the slightest resistance Earl whacked me upside the head with his fist.
He finally had my wrists tied behind my back and then he ripped off my pants and my underwear. He pushed me to where my face and my chest were facedown and laying on the bed and my knees were bent and resting on the floor and now that my pants and underwear had been ripped I was there in his room half-passed out from the blows he had given me and with my bare ass exposed.
“So you ain’t a bitch, right?” Earl asked me in a gritty, devil-like tone. “Yeah, I know you ain’t, but you are a fucking ho,” he said as he answered his own question that he’d asked me.
After he’d said that I felt him ramming his finger inside of me and I grimaced and tried to scream but with my mouth closed shut my screams weren’t doing much.
Then I felt Earl forcing himself inside of me and it hurt like hell because I wasn’t ready for that.
Again, I let out what I thought was a loud scream but it was so muffled that it had to be going on deaf ears.
“Matter fact, you my fucking ho,” he said as he kept jamming me with his dick. It felt like he was ripping my insides apart.
I was scared as hell but I was still mad as hell and at that point I decided to stop screaming because I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he was dominating me.
“Yeah, look at you, you stopped screaming and you enjoying this shit now. Right?” Earl asked me.
I didn’t answer.
“I said right?” Earl screamed at me as he re-grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled it and twisted my head and neck in the process. I swear I thought he had broken my neck.
Just to stop the pain I nodded my head to show that I was in agreement with him.
He then pushed my head back down on to the bed and resumed raping me.
It was definitely my worst sexual experience ever!
Thank God, Earl soon pulled his dick out of me and for added humiliation he ejaculated right into my eyes and he laughed throughout his moans of ecstasy.
When he had completely finished he smacked me across my face. Not hard. In fact, it was just a tap. And he repeatedly tapped me in my face like five or six times just to humiliate me.
Then he grabbed my face and pressed his fingers deep into my jaw and my cheeks and he forced me to look at him, but I couldn’t because his semen was burning my eyes.
“We gotta get something straight,” he said to me as he spoke directly into my face.
“Number one. You don’t ever say shit about this to nobody!”
He then paused and it was like he was waiting for a response from me. And after I nodded my head to show him that I understood him, he continued on.
“Number two. You my damn ho now and you gonna keep coming with me to make this money! You understand that?” he yelled as he pushed my face into the bed.
Again I nodded my head and just hoped that Earl would untie my arms.
“Now just lay there for a minute,” Earl barked at me as he walked out of the room and from the sound of it he had gone into another room in the basement where he always stashed his weed.
While he was out of the room I realized how powerless I felt and I was pissed off to the point where I started crying. But his semen was still burning my eyes and when I cried it made it worse, so right then and there I sucked it up because I knew that I had no other choice but to just suck it up.
I knew that I was indeed powerless and with my father not really giving a shit about me, I knew that I didn’t have too many options in terms of places to go and at that point in my life, Earl’s basement was the best option for me as far as where I would live.
So even though Earl wasn’t this powerful, controlling street nigga I knew that I still had no choice but to be his ho. Yeah, I was gonna suck it up and take that major L that Earl had just dished out to me and I was gonna endure what I had to endure.
But right then and there as I kneeled against the bed with my arms tied behind my back and with cum in my eyes, I also decided that I had to come up with a plan so that I would never, ever be dependent on anybody. I realized that it was always my dependence on other people that put me in the positions that I found myself in.
Yeah, I would be Earl’s ho. But I was gonna be a ho with a plan.
Chapter Twelve
Heaven to Hell
One of the weirdest feelings in the world that I had to endure was interacting with Earl in the days that followed him raping me.
It had taken several hours for the headache to disappear after he had knocked me upside my head, and it took several days for the burning sensation in my vagina to go away. But emotionally I knew that it would take me much longer to get over the powerlessness and the violation and humiliation that the rape had caused me to feel.
As much as I wanted to be cool with Earl and talk to him like everything was everything, I just couldn’t. All of my interactions with him from that day forward were terse and guarded. In fact, I even became that way with people in my school. It was like overnight the rape had caused me to become real distant with everyone.
The basement living space that I shared with Earl and that I had once viewed as this heaven-on-earth oasis now felt like it was a tomb trapped in hell with Earl serving as the devil.
In my heart, I could feel that Earl felt bad for how he had violated me but his pride and arrogance wouldn’t let him even bring up the fact that he had raped me, much less apologize to me for it. Instead, he would try his hardest to spark conversations with me or offer me drinks and weed or try to get me to chill and watch a movie with him. I would do it, but my heart wouldn’t be in it. Since I was his readily accessible supply of pussy, he still tried to push up on me and kiss me and feel all over me and fuck me on a daily basis. What’s wild is that I believe my aunt kind of knew that something wasn’t right and I think she knew exactly what was up, but I believe she was just in “protect Earl at all costs” mode. Probably the best way for her to protect him was to act completely ignorant and clueless to shit and not ask any questions or watch things with a suspicious eye.
I’ll probably never fully understand why, but even after the rape, whenever Earl would push up on me in a sexual way, I would not resist him. I would always let him have his way with me. Unlike before, I was now only allowing him to sex me for physical reasons, so I could feel close to someone, cum and numb that human pain that I was feeling. Emotionally I felt absolutely nothing at all from the sex. It was like I was on sexual autopilot or something. What I think is that instinctively I just went on autopilot so that I could continue to be accepted by Earl even if it was him accepting me just on a disrespectful level.
; What was also wild was that my fight for Earl’s continued acceptance was also one of the things that made me continue to go to the sex parties with him and get pimped by him. For me that was only one of the reasons why I continued to go to those parties. The other reason was because I knew that I had to start developing a list of paying sex clients to help support me for what I was planning on doing.
See, I looked at it like this: I’d fallen in love with the newfound freedom that I was exposed to when I initially started living in the basement with Earl. After tasting that freedom I knew that I didn’t wanna give it up, but at the same time things had become too toxic for me to stay in my aunt’s house for much longer. There was also no way that I could really see myself going back to live with my father, because after getting raped by Earl, the way I looked at it was like fuck anybody and everybody, such as my father, who had ever tried to shit on me or who had ever turned their back on me. I knew that I had to learn how to figure things out on my own and do for myself. I also knew that I would have to somehow strike out on my own and start living on my own.
What I started to do was, whoever I would have sex with or give a blow job to at the sex parties, I would also try to get their phone numbers. That way when I did eventually strike out on my own I would have a readily available list of potential sex clients that I could call on in order to make some money to feed myself and to take care of myself.
In just a matter of three months I had managed to develop a client list of about thirty names. What I would do is call each of my clients once a week or so and act like I was calling just to chitchat and to also let them know what spot Earl would be taking me to on the weekends. By doing this I began to develop a good rapport with most of my clients and I started getting a lot of repeat business. With those thirty names I felt that I was ready to strike out on my own. In fact, Christmas was about a week or so away and my plan was to bounce a few days after Christmas.
I had met this girl in my school named Tara. Tara was a senior and she was real cool. She gave off that loose whore vibe that was so easy for me to detect. I think it was that vibe that made Tara and me click so well. Well anyway, Tara had hipped me to this older guy that she knew who was a landlord. He rented rooms for like fifty dollars a week. She explained that I would have to share a bathroom and a kitchen with complete strangers but that my room would be my own complete private living space that I wouldn’t have to share with anybody.
The fifty dollar price tag sounded right up my alley. I knew that even if my clients proved to be not as reliable as I’d envisioned, I would still be able to make my rent and still have enough money left over to buy some food and to stay fly with my gear.
As it would turn out that plan to move out into my own place would have to be temporarily put on hold.
I had gotten introduced to sex at the age of nine years old. During the five years that passed, considering all of the promiscuous things that I had done and been through, I had been really lucky that I hadn’t caught any diseases or gotten pregnant.
Unfortunately for me, though, my number had finally been called. Just before Christmas of 1987 at the tender age of fourteen years old I found out something that would throw a huge monkey wrench in all of my plans and also really make my life feel like it was a living hell.
What I found out was that I was pregnant.
Yes, pregnant.
Who was the father? I had no idea.
And I also had no idea what the hell I was gonna do about this baby I was carrying.
Part II
The Early Adult Years
Chapter Thirteen
The Dream
It was now the summer of 1991 and I would soon turn eighteen years old.
In between the time when I was pregnant at fourteen and now, a whole lot had taken place. For starters, I had gone back to live with my father shortly after I found out that first time that I was pregnant. I never told anyone about that first pregnancy or the subsequent two others that happened before I graduated from high school. Nor did I ever tell anyone about the abortions that I had gotten in order to cover up my misdeeds.
I had also nixed the idea of moving out on my own simply because by the time I had returned to live with my father he knew that I was old enough to take care of myself and to fend for myself. He had not replaced Vera, the live-in nanny that he had let go shortly after I had gone to live with my Aunt Tanisha. Yeah, when I had returned back to living with my dad, there was no nanny in the house and my father had all but basically moved in with one of his girlfriends in New Jersey who he was really feeling. Needless to say, now that I was getting older, I really hardly ever saw my father. I mean, he would always call to check up on me and make sure there was food in the house, but he was still always MIA.
The way I looked at it, it basically wouldn’t have made any sense for me to move out on my own because I practically raised myself all throughout high school.
Earl and I had all but lost contact with each other and I had stopped going to the underground sex parties that he had introduced me to, but I did manage to stay in contact with a lot of my clients that I had met as a result of going to those sex parties. And from that initial list of contacts I was able to get referrals from people who they knew and so my list of clientele grew.
All throughout high school I managed to stay fly and I kept money and was able to buy a nice car when I turned sixteen and it was all as a result of my independent one-girl call-girl service that I had created and was running right from my father’s house in Canarsie. And what I liked most was that throughout high school no one really knew what I was doing and how I stayed fly. I mean, I had been close with Tara, the girl that I had met when I was a freshman and she was a senior and she knew what I was into but she’d kept her mouth shut. She probably didn’t talk because right after she had graduated from high school she ended up becoming a stripper in order to make money so it was like she and I had this secret life that bonded us. And even though she had graduated a few years before I had, we stayed in touch and we spoke to each other just about everyday and we hung out a lot together even though we both had different hustles.
What was wild and mind-boggling to even me was that with all of the sex that I was having through my call-girl business, when I returned home I had immediately resumed my indulgence into pornography. In fact, it was like my indulgence into watching porn movies and masturbating had greatly increased to the point where I had to start my morning off watching porn and masturbating and when I would come home from school that was what I did. Before I ended my night that was what I did even if sandwiched in-between all of that I had sexed two of my clients it didn’t matter, sexually I was just way out of control. It wasn’t like I was constantly horny or anything because for the majority of the times it seemed like I would masturbate just for the hell of it.
As far as boyfriends went, I never really had one because I think that subconsciously I had locked up after that experience with BK. I wouldn’t allow myself to get that close with anybody else. Besides, I didn’t like dealing with the high school dudes who were my age because they were way too immature. I really only dealt with older cats and most of my clients were older so that too made me biased toward older guys.
Right after my graduation—which surprisingly my dad did attend with his girlfriend—I was confused as to what I should do with my life. I mean, a big part of me did want to go to college but at the same time I didn’t know if college was for me because I had never given much thought about what I would do as far as a career was concerned.
When I finished high school and the summer vacation started I was sort of in a state of limbo. Was I just gonna try to start working, and if so what the hell was I gonna do, or was I gonna do the college thing?
I was basically confused and I didn’t know what to do but one thing that I did do was I kept my call-girl business going. Even that was getting to the point where it was really starting to wear at my spirit. I was really considering stopping it, but the t
hing was, it was like fucking for money had been woven into my DNA or something so to give it up posed a scary predicament for me.
Then one night in July about three weeks or so after my graduation I had one of the weirdest, realest, and scariest things happen to me that I had ever experienced. It basically changed me and sort of scared me straight and helped me decide on what it was that I should do.
While I slept in my bed it was as if someone had sat down on my bed. I could slightly feel the bed move as their weight pressed onto the mattress. Then it was as if I felt someone gently shaking me and trying to wake me up.
“Shayla,” the person called out.
“Shayla, wake up baby,” the voice said again as I woke up groggy from my sleep.
“Shayla, baby, it’s me,” the person said.
I sat up and I kind of got scared because I realized some woman was sitting on my bed. I kind of jumped from being startled.
“Baby, you don’t recognize me?”
With my heart pounding I looked at the woman and my mind instantly flashed back to a vision of my mom laying in her casket at her funeral. I knew for sure that it was my mom.
“Mommy?”
“Yes, baby, it’s me. It’s Mommy.”
My heart really started racing with excitement and things just seemed so real to me. At the same time I didn’t know if I was dreaming. I didn’t think I was dreaming because it was to the point where I could smell the perfume that my mother was wearing. I reached out to see if I could touch her and when I put my arm on her shoulder I really felt her. She grabbed me and pulled me toward her and began hugging me so tight.
“Oh baby, Mommy misses you so much you just don’t know!” my mom said as she hugged me.
“I miss you too, Mommy,” I said as I sniffed and inhaled some more of my mom’s perfume. I couldn’t believe that it was really her and that I was actually hugging her and smelling her perfume.
