by Sa'id Salaam
Janay was portrayed as a victim and was sent to The Foster Care System instead of jail. Dressed in pigtails and bobby socks, the pretty little girl was quickly scooped up by a sweet black couple. The Millers were in their mid- forties, and never had any children on their own. They had a nice comfortable home that they wanted to share. Mr. Miller was a tall, strapping auto worker. He was in good shape that defied his age, except for the graying hairs around his temples. Mrs. Miller was also took pride in her appearance and home. She was a homemaker; whatever that is.
The new family had gotten off to a shocking start that first night. Young Janay had come out from her shower in nothing but a thong and bra top. Her time as a whore had erased any and all traces of a young girl’s modesty. At Panama’s place, no one had worn much clothing.
Mr. Miller felt ashamed at how hard he’d gotten when her little black ass cheeks passed him in his recliner chair. His wife was equally shocked by the girl’s display.
“Child, put some clothes on!” She yelled and rushed over to shield her husband’s eyes. “Don’t you have a robe?”
“No, ma’am, Janay frowned, confused by the commotion.
“Well, I’ll take you shopping in the morning. Go to bed now,” she said calming herself.
Mr. Miller didn’t calm down though. The vision of her little body was implanted on his brain. Once he’d gotten his wife in bed, he gave her the business. Best sex in years for both of them.
As promised, Mrs. Miller had taken Janay shopping for some age- appropriate clothing the very next day. They waged war all over the Mall with their extreme opposite’s in taste. Mrs. Miller wanted Janay to dress like a lady, but Janay wanted to dress like a lady of the night. The battle between short and tight, versus long and frumpy, was met somewhere in the middle.
Janay knew she had Mr. Miller wrapped around her little finger. Whenever she had him to herself she could get anything she wanted out of the man.
“Buy me that, please daddy,” Janay pouted, pointing at towards the sexy lingerie set in the store’s window.
“Just don’t let momma find out. It’ll be our secret,” he agreed and made the purchase. She knew that once secrets started, they didn’t stop. Janay had made sure to let Mr. Miller have a chance to view his sexy purchases. Anytime Mrs. Miller shopped or would run errands, she’d put on a show for him. Mr. Miller would pay it forward and fuck the shit out of his wife from having being turned on. It was all good, something for everyone, until he finally had said no. Such a small word caused so much drama.
“Look at this!! Can you buy me this daddy?” Janay pleaded, showing him a red leather cat suit in the catalog. The model looked so good in it, he’d almost said yes, until he saw the price.
“Girl, no, that’s way too much money!” he exclaimed. He complained about the price, not the inappropriate garment for his under aged daughter.
“Please, please, please!” She whined, pouted, and begged. “I’ll do anything you want daddy!”
“Chile’, ain’t nothin’ you can do to make me buy an eight hundred dollar garment!” he exclaimed naively. She’d taken that as a challenge, and intended to prove him wrong.
I bet if I sucked your dick you’d buy it for me,” she declared. The offer was verbal Viagra for the man who hadn’t had a blow-job in decades. Mrs. Miller was generous with the pussy. She was old school and believed if your man wanted sex, then, you give it to him. It was the part of the description of being a homemaker. However, she didn’t believe in sucking dick. Poor old Mr. Miller hadn’t had any head since before he’d met his wife more than thirty years ago; that is, until now.
“What in the world?” Mrs. Miller exclaimed when she’d found the cat suit in the young girls closet. Good thing the price tag had been removed or she would’ve really lost her mind. The frugal woman wouldn’t even total eight hundred dollars on her own clothes, for an entire year, nevertheless on one outfit.
“Leroy, did you buy that girl this….this…this?” she yelled, showing him the cat suit. He had to mentally beat down an erection at the sight of the suit.
“Umm, I…. something…something,” he murmured as an excuse that didn’t explain much.
Of course, he’d taken his ‘chewing out’ in stride, but nothing could stop Janay. She wouldn’t take no for an answer, since she now knew how to make him say yes. When you have a good jump shot or a winning play, you stick with it. She was sucking all kinds of cash and prizes out of the man.
It didn’t take long for Mrs. Miller to notice that something wasn’t right. The cash flow had slowed to a trickle her way, but the little girl seemed to have more and more stuff each day. Janay began to cop the kind of attitude that a woman would have when competing for her man. It was time for her to go. Mrs. Miller didn’t want to look like a failure and needed a good reason to send the little girl back. When her husband had taken her out, she’d searched the girl’s bedroom hoping to find that good reason.
“Makes no damn sense!” she fumed, finding a sexy pile of clothing. Things she wished she had the figure or courage to wear. She kept on searching until she’d hit the jackpot.
“Uh, huh!” she said, finding over one thousand dollars in cash. It was Janay’s tip money from her ‘hoe days, but Mrs. Miller assumed it was from Mr. Miller.
“Why in the world would he give her all this money? Not, unless……nah!”
Mrs. Miller didn’t believe her husband was fucking the little girl, mainly because she really didn’t want to believe it. He really wasn’t, but receiving ‘head or oral’ was still considered sex. She decided to put the money back and set up a trap.
“Here you go precious. I saw this in the mall and it made me think of you,” Mrs. Miller said sweetly, as she presented Janay with a stuffed teddy bear.
“Umm, thank you,” Janay said with a frown, like something smelled bad. Her tolerance for the woman was waning by the day. As far she was concerned, the woman was stopping her money from flowing.
“I’ll just put it over here,” Mrs. Miller said, fighting the urge to slap the frown off of her face. Instead, she sat the bear that held the hidden camera down facing Janay’s bed, and she left the room.
The bear wasn’t the only surveillance device she’d purchased at the mall’s Spy Shop. The new clock in the den, the vase in the living room, and the new DVD player for their bedroom all held one hidden somewhere. If indeed something freaky was going on between Janay and Mr. Miller, Mrs. Miller would definitely get the act caught on tape.
The plan was to run some errands and do some shopping for the next few days, so they would have plenty of time alone. Then, she could check the tape’s footage for any proof of what she suspected. Only she didn’t have to wait that long. The very next morning when she was fooling around with the equipment, she got the surprise and shock of her life.
“This little heifer!” she said, watching Janay slip into her room the previous night. Her first thought was ‘this is how Janay’s been getting money’; slipping into her bedroom while her and her husband slept, and she’d steal it. Only, according to the tape, Mrs. Miller had been the only one asleep. When the tape revealed Janay pulling her husband’s dick out, it also revealed him as he’d sat up in the bed and watched her work while his wife slept beside him.
“Now, I have a surprise for you!” Mrs. Miller snarled, ready to put her plan into motion. Calling the police was out of the question because her husband would no doubt go to jail. She would lose her lifestyle, and those motherfuckers in the church would gossip until the end of time.
“Hope that old bat done croaked and left her husband to me,” Janay thought wishfully, seeing police cars in front of her house, while returning from school. “Is everything OK?”
“No, everything is not OK,” Mrs. Miller replied victoriously. “I am missing a great deal of money.”
“Your mom thinks you have her money,” Mr. Miller said sadly.
Before Janay could respond the officer returned from his search. He was holding up the
cash and the bankcards Mrs. Miller had added in. Poor Mr. Miller’s heart had just broken. He was finally getting head on a regular basis and now, it was about to slip away.
The next lunge was aimed at the older lady. It had taken both officers to pry the angry girl off of her. Mr. Miller just sat down and sulked as they cuffed and watched them as they carted her away.
“Don’t look so sad,” Mrs. Miller told Mr. Miller. Once the house was clear, she made her way over to him and knelt down in front of him as he sat in his recliner. To his surprise she sucked his dick for the first time. To her surprise she liked it as much as he did; he liked it plenty.
Instead of going back to foster care, Janay had gone to jail. They’d charged her with the theft of her own money. She’d gone in front of the same judge who had sentenced Triste and Panama. He could only add a few more years to his tally due to a plea bargain. He’d given her five years until she turned eighteen years of age. She was going to Shady Spring.
~ Chapter 3 ~
According to the numbers, Shady Spring Home for wayward girls was built twenty years ago to house two hundred girls. Over the years, the capacity was increased to over one thousand. The increase was indirectly related to drugs, rap music, and an epidemic of missing fathers.
The facility had seen the birth of close to five hundred bastards, since it had opened its door. Over half of those children were fathered onsite by male staff. One counselor had fathered almost fifty in twenty years; some of his very own daughters had ended up in the home once they became of age and had become delinquents in their own rights. Chances are, he may have even fucked one or two of them from the numbers he was doing.
Forty percent of the girls went on to prison when they’d left Shady Springs Home, some as continuation of their sentences that had already been handed down to them. While others, from committing new crimes. Ten percent would be dead within a year and that statistic would grow as the years continued to go on.
Eighty percent of new intakes are already sexually active upon their arrival. The number would increase to ninety six percent by the time they would leave. Oh yes, there was some fucking going down at Shady Springs. Fifty percent of the male staff routinely had sex with the girls, while some sixty percent of the female staff only sampled the goods.
Back in the caveman days, the staff just raped the girls. It was on some plantation era, slave row type of deal. They would pick out a girl, do their business and move on. Rapes were still very common among the girls themselves, to control or punish, but for the most part, the new generation fucked out of both pant legs.
The fast ass little girls fucked for fun, while the others gave it up for food or favors. The institution food sucked, so a happy box could get you sucked. Many guards would trade their lunches for a piece of ass.
This was the place a lot of child prostitutes ended up when arrested. Most of the times there were no homes for the girls to go home to, so off to Shady Springs they’d go. Some girls would refuse to go home to the abuse that waited for their returns. Getting paid for sex was way better than fathers, mommas, boyfriends or cousins taking it for free.
Since all the girls were minors in the legal sense, Shady Springs was mandated by the state to provide full-time school. All the girls had to attend classes each day. Some actually graduated or earned their G.E.D. With such a wide assortment of mini-criminals from all backgrounds, larceny crime was the number one topic. The girls traded secrets of a variety of different felonies. Criminology 101 where one could learn to cook coke or meth, steal cars, and forge checks. Boosting and fraud were also a hot topic.
By far, sex was the number one topic. The older or sometimes younger, but more experienced girls taught the ‘Power of the P’. No, not the extremely funny flash fiction story written by Sa’id Salaam, which, by the way is available on Amazon kindle for just ninety nine cents, but the value of the vagina. Sex as a weapon or a tool, it was a cash cow a good earner, a money maker.
Pussy as a product is more complicated than just opening your legs and having a penis inserted. There are many subtle nuances to manipulate. One girl taught how to make men come quick to increase production. It was always quantity over quality, stick and move.
A white girl named Mindy had taught blow-jobs made easy. Again, the focus was getting men in and out of your mouth as quickly as possible. She once had given the girls a sample off five of the guards in just seven minutes.
Dick tease for the beginners taught the value of not giving up the pussy and how to string a guy along for months while extracting money out of him all the while. Playing hard to get could earn as much as fucking, except minus the wear and tear on the vagina. Once a vagina gets too many miles on it, it loses its value. Of course, there was a class on making it tight again.
There has never been and never will be a gathering of females without some good ‘ole pussy ticking- think women’s basketball. Put that much pussy in one place, and there will definitely be some pie eating, muff diving, carpet munching lesbianism. Several stud battled to control the compound. There were plenty of girls to go around, but the alpha-female was a coveted trophy.
Most studs had a stable of females, their own little family or gang. Some studs, pimped the straight girls to staff and guards. Other girls went together like average couples, like girlfriend and boyfriend.
Pussy sold well, but there was a thriving black market for whatever could be smuggled in. anything extra from the free world had extra value. Of course, drugs and tobacco were big sellers, but any and everything from panties to hair barrettes also sold well.
Staff caught bringing in contraband were subject to jail also. A few went to prison each year, but that didn’t stop their flow. It wasn’t uncommon for one to drop a dime on another in order to corner a particular market. Not to mention, the more scarce an item was, the more it was worth. These silly dudes could’ve made a killin’ selling dick instead of buying ass.
A janitor called Baby-Boy brought in most of the weed. He would give it all to a stud who called herself ‘Don Juan’ to do the distributing. They’d split the proceeds and he’d get the pick of her girls once a week.
There were similar situations for coke, x, and pretty much everything else. Markets and sub-markets in a thriving underground below. A nurse named Ms. Black traded her sex for tobacco. The woman was tall, rail thin, but could eat pussy like nobody’s business. She would pay a pack if you let her eat you out, and two packs if you sucked her weather beaten vagina. Of course, the coochy had to be right in order for her to want it. Being a nurse in a girl’s facility meant she had come across all shapes and sizes. One girl smelled so bad, she had taken the girl’s pulse to make sure she was still alive.
Even the elderly white Chaplin was in on the licentiousness. He was too cheap to pay for sex, so he tricked and took advantage of the girls. Poor things had turned to him for help, but he had his dick out too. He had them fucking for forgiveness, sucking for salvation, and reaming for redemption. In his office he had a massive collection of child porn that would get his sick ass a life-sentence if ever discovered. He’d made big money selling movies through a broker in the Philippines.
The facility itself, sat smack dab in the middle of thirty well- kept acres of land. The grounds were kept maintained in immaculate condition by the girls. Since the state of Georgia doesn’t pay its inmates, it was modern day slavery. The girls also worked in the kitchen, laundry room, and warehouse, in addition to general housekeeping duties. If a girl refused a work detail, she was banished to kiddy jails version of the hole.
The rooms in the hole were pretty much the same as the ones in population, except, for a few additions that it would make it as uncomfortable as possible. The windows were painted black to prevent happy day dreams, while gazing at nature, or from seeing other people. The only thing that worked was the cold water, and showers were reduced to just three times per week. The girls who were fortunate enough to have money on their accounts were refused commissary; that was done to p
revent people from lying around relaxing. Trays of food were delivered twice a day via a slot that had been cut in the door. They weren’t allowed TV, movies, and there was very little contact with humans. Federal law required that the girls get in an hour of recreational time each day. That time was provided in a dog kennel cage. Most of the girls preferred to work a few hours a day rather than a few weeks in the hole.
The main 30 acres where the girls could roam or play sports were surrounded by 12 foot fences, topped by vicious looking razor wire. As painful as getting caught up in that wire was, it wasn’t the main deterrent. What had kept the girls in was that the place was in the middle of nowhere. Google wouldn’t even be able to find it.
Over the years, a few girls tried to escape by going over the fence, under it, or through it. When they did, no one would chase them or even sound the alarms. They knew those girls weren’t going anywhere far in those woods. After a few hours or a couple of times, days later, the run-a-ways would come back. Hungry, thirsty, tired and dirty, going to the hold would be a relief. There were only two that had never come back on their own. Cadaver dogs were brought in after a week to locate their remains.
Those remains still remained at Shady Spings. They were buried in the small grave yard right out front. A lot of the girls who’d passed over the years were street orphans with no families. If they died there, they stayed there. Kiddy jail or not, it was still a jail, and jails were dangerous. There were several deaths a year; at least one of those deaths was caused by homicide.
To escape the violence or perpetuate it, most of the girls cliqued up or formed gangs. Atlanta had a clique, as did Savannah and Augusta. Powerful studs had their own family units. They ate, fucked and fought together. Anyone not connected ran the risk of being victimized.
