Skater Girl

by JumpingHotdog

mc; drug; Mf; mf; ff; Mdom; Fdom; oral; anal; bond; alien; best; viol; caution

K.T. hated school. She hated her parents. She hated everyone and everything that crushed her and pulled her down. The only time she was ever happy was on her board.

She kicked with her foot and let the speed take her. The skateboard shot down the sidewalk and all that power flowed up into her. The hips were the key, where all that force came together. The board was a wild animal straining to break free, but if you got the hips right it was yours to master. That was why boys couldn't really skate, not really.

A slight twitch of her hips and her board jinked around a geriatric pedestrian. He looked forty or something. K.T. couldn't imagine being forty. That was old. Like really old.

She leaned in the opposite direction, felt the wobble start, shifted weight to her back foot and straighten her board again. More walkers ahead, this time some placid cow of a woman dragging her mewling spawn. That didn't matter.

K.T. kicked the tail of the board, let her front foot slip forward and bought some air. Her wheels came down on the bench and that let her skate right passed the cow. The dismount was just as easy and she hit the concrete on the other side. A kick and she was going faster than before.

Her off ramp was just ahead. She kicked to pick up speed and hooked an elbow around the lamp. Momentum swung her around and she released at the perfect moment. Like a bullet from a sling, she shot down the steep descent but there were stairs just ahead.

At the perfect moment she bought air again and caught her board on the hand rail. This was the hardest part, but she settled her knees and hips and ground the rail all the way to the base of the stairs. Her board sang. When the rail disappeared, she hit the park pavement going an incredible speed and using that speed, rolled all the way to the hidden grotto behind the gazebos. There she dropped a foot and ground to a stop.

"K.T.," said Taylor and gave a lazy wave. She lounged back on a stone bench, board propped to one side, an ear-bud in one ear.

"Taylor," said K.T. A smile tugged at her lips. She popped her board and collapsed beside Taylor.

Taylor was a year older than K.T. at fifteen and just about the only person in the world K.T. could stand. She skated like a pro, had wicked blonde girl-dreads, piercings through her nose, tongue and nips, and wore tattered old clothes like she didn't care what anyone else thought.

"The guys are coming over," said Taylor. "You cool?"

K.T. frowned just a little. The guys meant Taylor's boyfriend Blaze and his friend Thatcher. K.T. forced a smile and nodded her head. Not the way she wanted to spend her Friday evening. "I'm cool."

While they waited, K.T. scrunched up beside Taylor. Taylor handed over the spare ear-bud and K.T. popped it in. The cable was short and their heads almost touched. K.T. liked being close to Taylor. The older girl smelt of clean sweat and honesty. None of the fakeness that clung to the suck-ups at school.

"You'll like this," said Taylor. "The new Triple R album." She hit play on her Sony Walkman and a thumping punk song came out the earbud.

The stone bench was in a secluded corner of the city park, shielded from view by the bushes and a high stone wall. It was already getting late into evening, but K.T. had her washed-out hoodie and was warm enough huddled close to Taylor. They both listened to the song until the boys showed up.

Blaze descended the off ramp on his poser board and Thatcher stomped down in his steel-toed boots just after.

"What's up, babe," said Blaze as he rolled up to Taylor.

Taylor rose to her feet and Blaze pulled her close. They kissed, lips and tongues mashing together. K.T. had to look away.

"K.T." Thatcher nodded his head.

K.T. grunted and gave Thatcher a slitted eye look. Blaze, she could stand, but she was sure Thatcher wanted into her pants. Plus he dressed like an emo looser, all black, with his big buckled boots and a coat only one stage off being a trench coat.

Taylor and Blaze broke apart, both panting lightly.

"You bring the stuff?" asked Taylor.

"Sure did," said Blaze and pointed at Thatcher.

Thatcher raised a plastic carrier bag and jerked it. Glass jingled from inside.

"Wicked," said Taylor with a wide smile. "Give me one."

Thatcher pulled out a bottle and threw it to Taylor, who caught it and twisted the top off. She drank deep. "Ah," she said, "that's good. Want one K.T.?"

K.T. felt her heart beat fast. She was only fourteen, but if Taylor was doing it...

"Course," she said and scoffed. "Give one here."

Thatcher passed her a bottle and K.T. looked at the label. Black Tower beer it said. The liquid was a muddy amber color. She tried to pull off the cap but it wouldn't come.

"Gotta twist," said Thatcher and gave her a gormless smile.

K.T. sent him a black scowl in return. "I know how to do it, alright!" She tried to pull the cap off and failed again. Fine. She turned her back slightly, twisted the cap and it came off. Foam fizzed up and sloshed over her hands.

Slowly, she raised the neck to her lips and took a sip. It tasted horrible, like sour dog hair. But Taylor liked it and the boys were already guzzling their own drinks. She took a longer pull and faked a smile. "Good stuff," she said, as if she knew the first thing about beer.

They spent awhile drinking and chatting. Well, Taylor, Blaze and occasionally Thatcher chatted while K.T. stood in awkward silence. After the beer was done, Thatcher produced a bottle of cheap vodka and they took turns taking swigs from it. It felt like fire going down K.T.'s throat, but she pretended to enjoy it even while her eyes teared up.

The night wore on, and Taylor and Blaze heated up. Taylor pulled off her beat-up skater hoodie and sat on Blaze's lap, facing him. Beneath she wore a ripped black t-shirt fronted by a fading band logo. The t-shirt covered her breasts and Taylor had quite large breasts, especially for a fifteen year old. The hoodie and baggy jeans gave her body a shapeless edge, but K.T. had seen Taylor in less and knew she was fit.

As Taylor and Blaze set to making out, Blaze slipped his hands under Taylor's t-shirt and began feeling up her breasts. His hands squeezed and Taylor ground herself against Blaze's torso. Moans escaped from between their mashed together lips.

"So, um," started Thatcher, "do you want to..."

"Touch me and I'll cut your dick off," hissed K.T. and jabbed a finger at Thatcher. Or rather, where she thought Thatcher might be. The alcohol made her head spin. Her feet wouldn't stay put and the world kept swimming in and out of focus.

She took a threatening step towards him and fell over. Red hot blood flushed her face and she pushed herself up. Gravel clung to her cheek and she brushed it away.

"I'm going," she shouted towards Taylor. Taylor managed to free a hand from mauling Blaze's chest and waved her goodbye.

K.T. gathered up her board under one arm and stomped off towards home. It was dark out but the acid orange of street lights ate away at the night. K.T. moved from orange oasis to orange oasis. Above the sky was a washed out black. The city's lights killed all but the brightest of stars. With drunk eyes she tried to find the distinctive shape of the big dipper but not even it appeared that night.

She climbed the stairs out of the park and then began the long trudge down the main road home. The occasional car thundered by, headlights so bright K.T. had to look away to avoid being blinded. In the ringing silence left by the car's passing, she could hear her parents screaming at her for breaking curfew. They just didn't understand and didn't care.

Her route home took her past a run down collection of boarded up factories and abandoned industrial buildings. A tangled nest of alleys ran between them, home to street bums, druggies and worse. She could see the flickering light of a handful of trashcan fires, set back from the road so cruising cops wouldn't twig.

There were less street lights here and those that did exist were as often as not smashed or blown. K.T. looked up at the sky. Perhaps a few more stars than before. They were dim and muffled, as if she looked at them through dirty glass.

One star caught her eye. It was bright, so very bright, and growing brighter. It burned with white phosphorous fury as it streaked across the heavens.

K.T. watched it with wide intoxicated eyes. It grew bigger and bigger until it was right over head and in her drunken state, K.T. took a wobbling step back.

As she struggled for balance, the star fell from the heavens and shot to earth as a lance of light somewhere in the mess of alleys and industrial buildings. The ground rumbled. A front of noise rolled out, sounding like a wave made of shattering glass. That proved too much for K.T. and she fell backwards onto her ass. Her board hit the ground on a corner, bounded and skidded wheels up into an alley.

K.T. swore and pushed herself up. The world was weird and twisty. The acid orange of the few street lights leached the realness from the world. All the sounds seemed both too loud and hollow to the core.

On feet that wouldn't quite stay level, she tottered towards the alley where her board lay. Only in the dark she couldn't see it. She went deeper and still couldn't find it. The alley was filled with discarded junk such as broken wood and shattered glass, loose trash and small darting things K.T. feared were rats. Violet after images danced before her eyes, like tormenting demons.

A soft white glow came from ahead, shining out from behind a corner. K.T. moved towards it. She had to move carefully because her feet kept bouncing off trash. More than once she stubbed her toe.

She reached the corner, turned and—

The creature lay there, curled almost into the fetal position inside a still smoldering crater.

Slowly it uncurled.

It was a grotesque multi-limbed thing, like a starfish or a splayed out squid. It was made from crystals, strange angles and the smell of starlight. Countless crystal shards formed its body and soft white light seeped from the cracks and gaps.

The creature turned and its fractal eyes focused on K.T. Its mouth opened and pure notes came out, like ringing chimes.

K.T. didn't know what to say. She didn't know what to do. Her body was frozen in place and she couldn't have moved it if she wanted to.

The creature took a step towards her and its body shifted, shrinking. The crystals realigned until they formed an almost mirror of her.

There was her washed out hoodie and baggy cargo-pants, covered with pockets. There was her short cut hair, the only style of towel drying after a shower. There was her round face and button nose with its slight kink where she'd broken it. If she could see through the glowing, reflective surface, she had no doubt she would have seen the same tight sport's bra, making her small breasts seem even smaller.

It took another step and it stopped shrinking. In fact, the trend reversed and it grew bigger, taller. The host of crystal shards rearrange to make something the shape of a man. Or almost the shape of a man. Its, now his, limbs were too long for his body and his eyes... There was nothing at all human there.

He reached out with an overly long hand. She tried to move, tried to run, but could not. His crystal forefinger stroked her forehead like a lover and then sunk inside. The world fell away.

K.T. hung in an empty tranquil sky. A wind blew through her and that wind was contentment. It washed away all her pain and all her hate. It scrubbed clean all the deep dark crevices of her scarred psyche and wounded soul. It freed her of the crushing weight of the world. For a single endless moment she was free. It was better than the power of her skateboard, better than Taylor's honest smell, better than anything else in the world and then it ended.

The crystal finger left her head and K.T. dropped sobbing. "Please," she begged. "Put me back. Put me back." The weight of the world pushed her down until she lay crushed against the ground. She clutched at his legs but she couldn't grip the strange crystal shards.

The creature, the monster, the man, the angel looked down at her with eyes cut from strange angles and crystal shards that fit together in strange geometries.

"Tomorrow," he said in a haunting voice not of this world. "Return tomorrow."

He turned and walked away, leaving K.T. to sob on the dirty alley floor.

It was a long time before K.T. recovered enough to stand. Tears stained her cheeks and her eyes were red. Dirt, small sharp stones and pieces of trash clung to her front. She was a mess, more homeless street rat than skatergirl.

She rose on shaking limbs and staggered out of the alley. Her body hurt. Random pains shot through her muscles and her joints throbbed. After being in the sky, everything was far worse than before. Far far worse. She started sobbing again.

At the mouth her foot hit her skateboard and she crashed to the ground. Her elbow struck something hard and the pain brought sharp tears to her eyes. Rats screeched as they ran. She pulled herself to a sitting position and cradled her board to her chest as she cried.

In the small hours of the morning she finally arrived home.

"Where have you been?" shouted her dad. "Do you know how worried we are? Did you think what this is doing to your mother?"

K.T. ignored him and trudged up the stairs towards her room.

"Don't walk away from us!" boomed her dad.

Her mother cried on his arm.

K.T. didn't care. Only the sky mattered. Only the sky. She slammed her bedroom door and blocked out the sound of her mom's tears. It did nothing for her own.

She slept a harsh dreamless sleep and awoke the next day with a splitting headache and a mouth that tasted of cold, dead ash. She stank of fever sweat, and her dirty hoodie was almost sodden.

She stripped off the dirty wet clothing and shivered. Her naked body was damp and clammy. Even in the light of midday, her pale skin was cast with gray and her small, hard nipples were purple, like the lips of a drowned man. A tingle prickled at her forehead, where the angel's finger had sunken through her skull. She rubbed the place but the sensation didn't go away.

The shower didn't help. She looked at the tiles with an addict's dead eyes as the hot water slammed down on her. It heated her cold flesh but could not fill the hole in her soul.

In fresh clothes she stamped down the stairs only to find her parents waiting for her.

"Kimberly," said her dad. He was a big man and with his dark eyes and crossed arms he cast an imposing figure. "We have to talk."

Her mother, much smaller with almost elfin features, clung to his side. Her eyes were red from tears.

"While you live under our roof, you follow our rules," said her dad. "That means obeying your curfew and being home by nine thirty and not a second later. It means respecting your mother and I. It means paying attention in school and getting good grades."

K.T. ignored him and pushed towards the door. She grabbed up her board and carried it under one arm.

"Are you listening to me?"

K.T. ignored him and twisted the lock.

"You will listen to me, young lady!"

The answer was clearly no.

K.T. slammed the door shut, dropped her skateboard to the ground and kicked her way down the street.

Her house was in the suburbs, a 10 minute bus ride or hour's walk from the city center. K.T. couldn't face dealing with people (the thought of their eyes on her body made her skin crawl), so she pointed her board for the abandoned factories and kicked to accelerate.

The power rolled up into her and she mastered it without thinking. Even a day ago, this would have been freedom to set her mind at ease but she'd seen true freedom now. Her skateboard was but the palest reflection.

The wheels clattered and jumped over the aging pavement. It set her teeth chattering and kindled pain in her knees. She kicked harder and faster. Her board shot down the sidewalk like a bullet. People jumped out of her way, cars flashed by and other skater's ate her dust. She couldn't out run the one thing she truly wanted to escape, however.

In daylight the abandoned factories looked even worse than at night. Shattered glass clung to broken out windows like the teeth of witches, gang tags and vulgar graffiti covered the walls and the true state of the alley lay revealed. Discarded needles, piles of shit, shards of broken bottles, rusting metal and rotting garbage lay in drifts against walls and everywhere else the wind would push it. It made K.T. want to vomit but the thought of the sky drew her on.

K.T. popped her board and slung it over her shoulder. Carefully she picked her way through the mess and down the alley. She rounded the corner and came to a strange black door. It hadn't been there the day before.

It wasn't black in the way of paint but in the way of the darkness behind the eyes. The only exception was a silver door handle. K.T. pulled it open and stepped inside.

Behind the door was a room, a white room. There were walls, a ceiling and a floor but where precisely those things met was hard to judge. It was just so utterly featureless.

In the center of the room stood the angel.

He looked much as he had the night before, an alien man cut from luminous crystal, strange angles and the smell of starlight. He looked at K.T. with unblinking eyes.

"Achillbeg," he said.

K.T. didn't understand but words failed her and she just stood motionless.

"You may call me Achillbeg," he said and flicked a hand. The door behind K.T. slammed shut. That did make her jump.

"The sky," she said in a ghost of a whisper. Her eyes were hollow with the need only the angel, Achillbeg, could fulfill.

"In time," he said in a voice of chimes. "I have a use for you. Serve me and I will give you what you need."

"Anything," said K.T. and she meant it. Nothing on earth could compare to the sky and so no earthly price was too much.

"I was great once," said Achillbeg, voice wan, the chimes far off, "until they cast me down. They coaxed me from on high with black lies, trapped me with stolen knowledge, and cut away my power with knives forged in the hearts of stars and quenched in the blood of demons. When only this sliver was left, bereft of even the weakest imperium, they threw me away to die.

"But they underestimated me. I retained the smallest handful of power during my fall, hidden from them, shepherded for my escape. I survived and using that power I made this place where miracles are possible. And now I will have my revenge. I will remake myself. I will focus what I am down into a lesser vessel and be reborn among the elect of this cursed, cancerous world. I will find my enemy, join them and destroy them from within.

"And you will aid me in this. I cannot leave this place of miracles but you can. You will bring me silver, the river's copper and the light of the star Arcturus. There is power in such things for those who know how to use it and I surely do. From these will I forge my revenge."

"You'll give me the sky?" asked K.T. Her legs and hands shook.

"I will give you the sky." Achillbeg walked forward, crystal feet echoing strangely off the white room's floor. For long seconds he stood before K.T., just looking down at her. Then he raised an infinitely faceted finger and sunk it into her forehead.

The empty tranquil sky stretched forever in all directions and K.T. hung in the middle of it. The wind of contentment blew through her and washed away the world's ills. Her parent's angry faces disappeared. The crush of responsibility vanished. School disappeared. All the lies and falsehood and hypocrisy disappeared. And then it was over.

K.T. came to on the ground, body jerking and spasming. The weight of the world came crashing down but different than before. There was a hole in the weight, a path of least resistance. Silver, the river's copper and the light of the star Arcturus. That was were the path lay. It pulled at her, like gravity and just as strong and primal.

"Serve me and you shall have your reward," said Achillbeg. His crystalline face was impassive. Always impassive. Soft light seeped from in between the countless interlocking shards.

The white room grew and twisted. The distance between Achillbeg and K.T. expanded until stars could get lost in it. And then... And then...

K.T. blinked and found herself outside the black door, her hand on the silver handle. She jerked her hand back as if stung and just stared at the door for long seconds.

It would be easy to imagine she'd dreamed the white room but she knew the truth. She could feel the path cut in the weight of the world, and while on the path she felt almost whole, almost human. To resist the path would mean shouldering the crushing weight of the world. The thought made her shudder and want to vomit. Nothing was worth that. Nothing could be worth that after experiencing the pain free world of the sky.

K.T. started walking out of the alley. She needed to get Achillbeg silver, copper and the light of the star Arcturus. But where could she get that? Silver meant jewelry, but she didn't have any jewelry. There was a jeweler's at the mall but she didn't have any money either. Not more than a few crumpled dollars stuffed in her pockets anyway.

There was only one option. She'd have to steal what she needed. The thought made her stomach twist with worry.

The abandoned factories were near the city center, on a patch of concrete blight that separated urban from suburban. K.T. dropped her skateboard and kicked her way along the cracked and potholed sidewalk towards the mall. As she got nearer the city center, the pavement quality rapidly improved.

In times past, K.T. had often skated near the mall. The sidewalks were smooth and well maintained and there were lots of interesting concrete ramps, benches and curves. The mall rent-a-cops would chase you if they saw you, but the day those fat clowns could catch K.T. was the day she hung up her board for good.

She reached the glass doors, slung her board under one arm and went inside.

Ug.

The mall was so fake. Fake people walked past fake plants, buying from fake shops and cooing over their fake happiness. K.T. hated the mall and everything it represented. Even the lighting was awful. It came from luminescent tubes hidden in the ceiling behind frosted glass panes. The slight blue tint made her want to claw her eyes out.

She stomped down the ground floor concourse, past chatting kids pretending to enjoy the weekend, past sad old adults looking for meaning in their desiccated lives and past ancient crones that looked like dried up old prunes carrying their string bags.

Her path took her past the food court. A gaggle of girls she knew from school sat around one of the tables, empty fast food rappers spread out in front of them. They wore practically nothing, just crop tops that bared their stomachs and miniskirts that didn't go below their knees. Ginny, the lead girl, pointed at K.T. and whispered something. Her friends laughed.

Despite herself, K.T. burned red and stormed on.

There were a number of shops which sold jewelry at the mall, but most of it was teenybopper crap. Probably just spray painted plastic. If she wanted real silver, and the path in her head very much wanted that, she needed a proper jewelers.

Juniper and Co. sold a wide range of expensive jewelry. The shop was light, airy and minimalist. The window display showed a selection of silver, gold and platinum necklaces, bracelets and rings sat upon individual white cubes, each of a different height.

K.T. stopped at the door and peered within. All the jewelry was inside glass cases — some free standing show pieces, others along the sides of the room. That would make her task harder but the thought of denying her purpose made her hands shake.

She pushed open the glass door and slipped through. A couple was already there, looking down at a case full of engagement rings. He was tall, athlete thin and had messy blonde hair. She was only slightly shorter, wore a black dress that clung to the pronounced curves of her body and rested her left hand on his shoulder.

Importantly, the case was open before them. The sales assistant, a short somewhat ratty man in a full suit, stood slightly to one side.

"And this is our Aquiline design," he said in a snobby voice. "Note the five facet cut of the diamond and the slender band. It would look simply marvelous on madam's finger."

While they were busy, K.T. examined the other cabinets. Most were no good. Juniper and Co. seemed to work a lot in gems and preferred gold and platinum over silver. She did find something near the back of the shop, though.

K.T. looked down through the glass at a range of solid bracelets that sat on white silk cushions. Each had a small label written in a flowing cursive that she had to squint to read.

'Rose Gold,' read one. It sat just before a yellow-red bracelet. 'Argentium sterling silver,' said another. That was more like it. This one shone silver-white and was so reflective K.T. could see her own blue eyes looking back.

"Can I help you," said a snooty voice from behind. He paused for a split second before adding, "ma'am?"

K.T. almost jumped out of her boots and blood thundered in her ears. She spun and looked up into the face of the ratty man from before. The couple had evidently left the shop.

"Um," she said. Her hands shook, so she leaned her board against the cabinet and stuck her hands in the pocket's of her hoodie. Think, think, think. "I want a bracelet," she said and pointed a finger at a random piece in the cabinet. "Let me see that one."

"The titanium gold band," he said, "a fine choice." He made no move to open the cabinet.

"Um," said K.T. Her face flushed and she resisted the urge to shift her feet. That would mean the end. This man would throw her out, call the mall cops and where could she get silver then? Achillbeg would take the sky away, the world would crush her again and she just couldn't live like that. She fortified her resolve and met the man's eyes. "My parents are rich. They buy me whatever I want."

Whatever he saw in her eyes made him at least humor her. "Of course, ma'am. I am Jonathan and it will be my pleasure to assist you today." He reached forward and slid a small oddly shaped key into the front of the display case. It clicked and the glass top lifted up.

"This band is made from a titanium gold alloy. This makes it very light without sacrificing appearance." He lifted the band up and twisted it so it caught the light. Cold fire raced along the edge. "It will also resist the damage that might come from a, aha, active life style. Does ma'am wish to try it on?"

"Show me that one," K.T. said and pointed at the rose gold bracelet.

Jonathan nodded, returned the titanium gold bracelet to its cushion and reached for the gold band.

As he did, K.T. snuck out her hand, grabbed the silver bracelet and stuck it in her hoodie's front pocket. The theft was over in a moment but it left her fingers tingling and mouth dry. Her stomach twisted and her knees shook.

Jonathan turned back around with the gold bracelet in hand. "Not as hard wearing as the titanium gold alloy," he said, "but few things compare to the luster of rose gold. If I might see your wrist?"

K.T. extended one shaking hand and Jonathan pulled back the sleeve of her hoodie until it bared her narrow wrist. He placed the bracelet next to her.

"As I suspected," he said, "it match's your skin beautifully."

"I don't like it," said K.T and snapped her hand away. "but I will think more about the titanium one. I might come back with my parents."

Lies, lies, lies. How could he possibly not hear the lies in her words.

K.T. snatched up her board and started towards the door. Each step hammered against her taught nerves. Any second now Jonathan would catch her. Any second now he would grab her and—

Jonathan's hand snapped down like a vice on her shoulder.

"Get your hands off me!" she shouted and tried to twist free. He hung onwith a grip like iron. She swung her board but lacked a good angle and the flat just clattered off his hip.

"How stupid do you think I am?" hissed Jonathan and squeezed down.

"Stop it!" cried K.T. "You're hurting me."

He just squeezed down harder and said, "Empty your pockets now."

"I said get off me!"

But Jonathan had no intention of doing that and drew K.T. kicking and screaming away from the door and windows.

"Rats like you," he spat, "stealing from me. All the same." He stuck a hand into her hoodie's pocket and pulled out the silver bracelet. "What is this?"

K.T. just grit her teeth and looked away.

"I said, what is this!" He screamed the last words, right into her face and so loud spittle hit her cheeks.

K.T. shook at the force of the words and muttered, "I need it, okay. I just need it." Already she could feel the path in the world's weight escaping her. The unimaginable mass of pain, hypocrisy and suffering tottered over her head, almost ready to crash down. Deep wrongness twisted through her bones and tears stung her eyes.

"Need it?" said Jonathan. "This isn't bread, you little whore. This is jewelry. No one fucking needs it. What are you going to do, sell it to your pimp for drugs? Well, I'll give you what you really need. Discipline, hard discipline."

He grabbed her by the upper arm and dragged her into the back room of the shop. His fingers were bruising hard, but Jonathan didn't care. He threw her inside and K.T. sprawled on the hard floor. The short hard carpet scraped her skin.

Jonathan glared down at K.T. "Strip," he barked.

K.T. froze like a deer in headlights. Part of her thought she must have misheard but she could see the sick hunger in Jonathan's eyes. Her eyes darted from side to side, but there was no where to go. The backroom lacked the minimalist styling of the shop proper but that only meant cardboard packing boxes and mesh wire shelves lined the walls.

"Please," she begged and even as she said the words, she didn't know what she was asking for. Please don't rape me? Please give me silver? Please, please, please.

"Strip," he said again. "A thief like you, gotta make sure you're not hiding anything else don't I?"

"Just let me go." K.T. was crying now, body shaking. "Please, I'll never come back. I'll— I'll—" The weight of the world pressed against her shoulders and blackness danced at the edges of her vision. "Just give me the bracelet and you'll never see me again!"

A dark look washed over Jonathan's face and his gray eyes turned as black as storm clouds. "You'll take your clothes off and be quick about it." He unfastened his belt and drew the length of worn brown leather free. He doubled it over and wrapped it around his hand. "Or I'll have to encourage you." For emphasis he cracked his makeshift whip in the air.

The sound broke the last of K.T.'s nerves. Slowly, jerking and with tears making everything blurry, she pulled off her hoodie. The bulky oversized garment crumpled to the floor to her side.

Jonathan let out a burst of mocking laughter. "How old are you, girl?"

"Fourteen," whispered K.T.

"More like twelve."

Black shame stabbed at K.T. Beneath the hoodie, she wore a plain white t-shirt that covered her chest and upper arms. Of course, that wasn't what Jonathan was referring too, at least not directly. No, his comment was on her deficiency in the breast department. Between her natural lack of development in that area and the tight sports bra she wore for skating, she was near flat.

"Well," said Jonathan. "Keep going."

Sobbing, K.T. removed her shoes, socks and baggy trousers. That revealed a set of thin yet muscled legs and bony knees marked with numerous old scars and a scattering of fresher scrapes, some pink, others still covered with sticky plasters. Next came her t-shirt. Her arms shook and her ears burned but she pulled it over her head. With that gone she had only her underwear left, consisting of a Lycra sport's bra and a set of black boy's boxers.

Jonathan's eyes ran over K.T.'s body in a way that left her feeling dirty and soiled. She tried to cover herself with her arms but there was so much she wanted to cover and so little to cover with.

"Please," she whispered. "I have nothing else. You can see I have nothing else." She wanted desperately to promise anything to escape but the thought of loosing the bracelet threatened to set the weight of the world tumbling down. "Just— Just give me the bracelet! I'll not tell anyone. If you give me the bracelet, I'll..." She couldn't bring herself to finish but there was no question how the sentence ended.

Jonathan snorted. "A whore after all." He cracked his belt again and this time the end came close enough that K.T. felt the whoosh of air across her trembling skin. "All of it off and I'll consider rewarding you."

A queer elation rushed through K.T., like heroine. It made her sick. Still sobbing, she pulled off her boxers and crossed her legs to hide her pussy. The cold air of the back room felt like icicles. Then came the bra. With her legs crossed and her eyes a blur with tears, she almost fell over undoing the clasp, but it finally came free and the tight Lycra garment fell away.

"Well, not quite as flat as I thought. Maybe you're fourteen after all."

K.T. did fall over then, as she tried to contort herself in failed modesty. Her feet vanished and she sprawled onto the floor in a pile of naked girl flesh.

Jonathan walked forward until he towered over her. His shoes were black and so polished they shone. With one shining tip, he knocked her legs apart and revealed her pussy. It was thin and shy.

"Slut," he hissed. "You mall thieves are all the same." He set his toe against K.T.'s pussy and pressed down. The flesh distorted, and K.T. screamed. He didn't penetrate, but it still felt like someone was cutting her in two.

"Please!" she wailed.

"Up," he said and grabbed her by an already bruised upper arm. He dragged her kicking and flailing to her feet and then to the side of the room, where lay a pile of half collapsed cardboard boxes.

He shoved her forward and K.T. let out a puff of breath as she collapsed onto t chest first. The boxes supported her torso and held her in a bent forward position.

"I'll teach you to steal from me," growled Jonathan.

The belt whooshed through the air and then pain exploded across K.T.'s upturned ass. It was so intense she couldn't scream. Her body just froze, rendered utterly still as the pain blanked out her brain.

It was several seconds before she could think again. When she could, it was to a hotter, deeper pain that filled her ass-flesh. With it came an almost pathetic wine. It started quiet in the back of her throat but got louder and louder until she screamed enough to hurt her throat. Silver, she told herself. Do it for the silver.

Then the belt came down again and all thought of silver left her head.

"Thief!" shouted Jonathan.

Again. Pain. A red hot iron bar.

"Mall slut!"

Pain. A blazing fire.

"Whore!"

Pain. Pain. Pain. K.T. thought she was going to die. Her entire ass hurt as if flayed to the bone. She just wanted it all to end but the worst wasn't yet over. And she knew she couldn't leave even if the chance presented itself. Even the chance of silver bound her better than the strongest chains.

She moaned and wailed like a damned soul.

Jonathan reached back his arm for one final terrible hit, but messed up the throw. The tip of the belt only grazed K.T. and then bit into Johnathan's own arm. "Ouch, fucking hell," he said and threw his belt away. "I'll teach you to steal from me!" He undid his pants, yanked his cock free, lined up the heavy head with K.T.'s red pussy and stabbed in.

It was a quick fuck by any objective measure but it did not seem that way to K.T.

Jonathan slammed in and out, the power of his thrusts shaking K.T. to her core. Each was a sickly lance of wrongness. Each ripped her open and left her inner depths spoiled. It was raw and violent and her first time. And she'd sold that virginity. She'd sold it for silver and a chance to again experience the sky.

"Slut. Whore. Cunt." Jonathan punctuated each word with a thrust that slammed his hips into K.T.'s still burning ass. She jerked, raw nipples scraping across the cardboard.

And then he was dropping onto her, his penis completely enveloped as his balls slapped against her legs. His body jerked and hot sperm shot out. Another jerk and another blast of sperm. A third blast came and then he lay still.

K.T. could hear his panting breaths, just beside her ear. She could feel his weight, crushing her down. She could feel the fire smoldering through her ass. She could feel her pussy, stretched wide and deep until it felt ready to tear. She could feel his seed oozing around her pussy. K.T. felt it all and she cried.

Finally Jonathan levered himself up and put his penis away. "If you ever think of stealing from me again," he said, "think on this. Now take this and get out."

Something clattered down on the box beside K.T.'s head. She turned slightly and through tear blurred eyes saw a flash of silver. Her hand darted out and clutched it to her chest. She didn't even need to think. The weight of the world had a narrow path through it, and she could no more ignore that path than avoid rolling down a hill.

"Whores deserve to be paid," said Jonathan and let loose a chuckle like bubbles escaping from tar, "and even sluts deserve something pretty once in a while."

A subdued K.T. limped out of Juniper and Co. ten minutes later. She ached all over, the kind of bone deep pain that seemed to fill her muscles and sink sickly knives into her organs. More than that, she felt soiled and violated at least as much by her own actions as anything Jonathan had done. Her last meal bubbled at the back of her throat. Just thinking back on the last hour made her want to vomit the taint away and scrub her flesh until all the filth was gone. Jonathan had let her dress and retrieve her skateboard but hadn't let her linger past that and certainly hadn't offered a shower.

Not that K.T. would have accepted even if he did. She had no desire to linger.

As she left the mall, K.T. cradled the silver bracelet in her hands. It seemed to sing against her skin, almost like an eerie tuning fork only it spoke in light and something she couldn't identify rather than sound. That was the only thing which kept her going right then. It cut like a light through the toxic miasma of her rape. She let her lips silently form the word. Rape. It felt ugly and violent and true even if she'd sold herself in the end.

The bracelet was silver. If she gave Achillbeg this, he would give her the sky again and in the sky even Jonathan couldn't reach her and everything he'd done would wash away. Nothing and no one could touch her in the sky. More, with this part of her task completed, the weight of the world wouldn't hang so perilously over her. Her heart beat fast in counterpoint to the pulsing pain of her bruises.

Slowly, achingly, she limped out of the city center to the area of urban blight where Achillbeg lived. The alley lurked between two boarded up industrial plants. A fading sign of flaking paint showed a spring with googly eyes giving someone a thumbs up. K.T. trudged under this obscenely happy gaze and picked her way down the alley, around shattered glass, old needles, rusting metal and broken wood.

The black door and its silver handle were just where she left them. She let herself in.

Achillbeg sat cross legged in the middle of the strange white room. Light came from everywhere and nowhere. It was strange, alien. Achillbeg cast no shadows and neither did K.T. as she took a faltering step over the threshold. The door clicked shut behind.

"I have it," she said. Her words were only just above a whisper but echoed off the walls all the same. Have it, have it, have it. "I have silver."

Achillbeg looked up. He wore the body of a man, but there was no mistaking him for human. Countless tiny crystal shards formed that body and soft light leaked from the joints. He held out a hand.

K.T. scurried forward and placed the silver bracelet on his palm.

Wordlessly, he closed his hand and worked his fingers. The silver bracelet deformed into an almost liquid mass, which he masticated for several minutes. Then he drew out hair-thin silver threads which he coiled around one wrist.

"More," he said, the word a striking of a crystal chime.

More... K.T. felt a wave of horror run through her. This silver cost her so very, very much and now Achillbeg wanted still more. Her legs wavered and she collapsed onto her already beaten ass. The impact brought tears to her eyes.

"Do not fear," said Achillbeg. His crystal feet rang like tiny bells as he moved towards her. "There will be rewards for your tribulations and when I have brought down my enemy and clawed my way back to on high, then I shall make you a queen."

He reached out and K.T. shuddered as his finger sunk through her skin and skull into her brain.

"After all," he said, "my future mother must be honored."

Part of K.T. tried to decipher the words. But then it didn't matter. Nothing mattered as the sky took her away to a world without pain or suffering.

After returning from the sky, K.T. made her way home. She still hurt inside and out but the sky had washed away the realness of those pains. They felt like ghosts, as if they'd been inflicted on a different Kimberly Turndown.

Of course, being home involved another round of shouting from her parents.

"This is completely unacceptable!" shouted her father, going red in the face. "You are grounded, you hear, grounded! To your room and don't come out till dinner."

K.T. just stood there and weathered the storm. It wasn't even very difficult. She walked Achillbeg's path. The weight of the world pushed down from above but she stood in the eye, untouched and uncrushed. It wasn't like the sky but it was the closest she could come on Earth. Paltry things like a father's rage just bounced harmlessly away.

When her dad finally wound down, she said, "Can I go now?"

Her father turned red and left the room at that. Her mother knelt down in front of her and said, "Please Kimberly, we love you. But you can't keep going on like this."

"Can I go?" Her mom's hand fell away and K.T. climbed the stairs to her room.

As K.T. lay on her bed, she felt the weight of the world tugging at her. More silver, it said, and copper and the light of the star Arcturus. But silver came first. She'd know when to begin gathering the other resources. Where was she going to get more silver, or the other things come to that? But that was a problem for tomorrow. She was tired, dirty and needed rest.

The next day was Sunday and by morning K.T. couldn't resist the weight of the world any more. It pressed against her, pushing her to follow that one silver path of least resistance. To put off any longer would bring it crashing down.

She got up, showered in the bathroom off her bedroom, dressed and headed towards the door. Or tried too. Her bedroom door wouldn't open. She turned the handle with all her might but it held fast.

"Hey!" she yelled as she beat a fist against the door. "Let me out!"

Footsteps padded outside and then her mother's voice. "This is for the best Kimberly. Please... Your father thinks—"

"I don't care what he fucking thinks!" The weight of the world pressed down on her. Her knees waved and her hand shook on the nob. She needed to go and go now. It was already growing too late. Her bitch of a mother would ruin everything!

K.T. spun away from the door and hurried to her window. She yanked it up and stuck her head outside. Her bedroom was on the second floor, meaning the ground was about twelve feet below. That was quite a drop and seemed to grow even larger as she looked down at the ground far below.

Dropping straight down would surely break her legs, but if she jumped she could land in the hedge. That would shorten the distance by about a third and provide a soft(-ish) landing.

It seemed an awful idea. She had no choice.

K.T. dropped her skateboard out first and watched it clatter into a flowerbed below. Next came her jump. She clambered through the window until she stood on the ledge, took a deep breath and leaped.

The ground slammed towards her far to fast. She hit the hedge shoulder first, bounced, slowed, rolled, hit the ground proper and skidded to a halt.

Fuck did it hurt.

Her side burned and she'd taken enough falls off her board to know a bad landing when she felt one. Slowly, on shaking legs, she pushed herself up and checked herself over. Whole if not unharmed. Good. Blood came away when she touched her cheek and she scrubbed her face with a sleeve.

Time to go. Her parents would notice her escape soon.

K.T snatched up her board from its place half embedded in compost, smacked loose the dirt, checked the wheels still spun true and headed towards the city center. The power of her board rolled through her as she shot down the sidewalk.

Since K.T. wasn't going via the abandoned factories, she took her skateboard to the bus stop and then the bus stop into town. The conductor frowned at her as she dug a few crumbled dollars from the bottom of her pockets but let her pass.

Fucker.

She sat at the back and watched the assembled idiots mule about. Fat cows spread themselves across multiple seats, ancient pensioners just about died where they sat and squawking babies screamed so loud K.T. just wanted to ring their necks. K.T. knew she would never have children and if for some reason she did end up pregnant, she'd kill it the first chance she got. Parasites had no place in the world.

Come her stop, she hit the halt button and jumped off. It was a bright Sunday morning and the pedestrians packed the sidewalks. The mass of people jostled and knocked K.T. as she made her way to the mall. The world would be better without other people.

Other than being a good place to skate, the mall didn't have much going for it in K.T.'s opinion. It was an obnoxious glass fronted building, which attracted a constant stream of similarly disposed and disposed people.

A fat wheezing rent-a-cop glared at K.T. until she popped her board, slung it over one shoulder and stalked inside.

As she walked down the fake marble floor, K.T. felt her heart beat fast. Silver, silver, silver, the path shouted at her. It pushed and pulled her. It threatened and cajoled her. No way could she resist and she knew only one place to get what she needed.

Juniper and Co...

She walked inside.

Rat faced Jonathan narrowed his eyes as he looked at her from beside a stand of glittering rings. "You have a lot of nerve coming back here."

"I," said K.T. Her mouth was dry but she had to press on. Already phantom weights pushed down against her shoulders. "If I do it again with you, will you..." She screwed her eyes shut. "Will you give me more silver?" Just saying the words made her feel sick.

Jonathan stared dumb at K.T. for several seconds, then let loose a bark of black laughter. "Like I want your skank ass body again."

K.T. blazed red. She wanted to die. She wanted to stab Jonathan and keep stabbing until he could never look at her again. But she couldn't. Instead, in a weak pitying voice, she said, "Please..."

"I said no, girl," said Jonathan. "But..."

K.T. opened her eyes and looked up into his face. He wore a black cunning smile.

"But... I might know a few people who'd pay to fuck some jail-bait ass and you could then spend that money on whatever you like." His smile sharpened. "With a suitable thief tax of course."

The idea felt like a pit around her, but she had no choice. She could feel the world's weight on her like invisible hands, demanding she acquiesce. She couldn't go against it. To do so would mean the blackest depression, for who could withstand the weight of that suffering after experiencing the sky?

Eyes fuzzy with tears, she nodded her head.

Jonathan let loose a laugh that felt like a slap and made a note on a scrap of paper. "Call this number," he said, "and tell them Jonathan told you to call and ask for work."

As K.T. left the mall, she clutched the note almost as tightly as she had the silver bracelet the day before. The ink from the page seemed to leach into her skin and spread along her veins like poison.

A stand of payphones lurked to the side of the mall, and K.T. made her way to the closest. She stepped inside, clicked the door shut behind her, picked up the handset and paused with her finger over the dial pad. Her knees shook and her mouth grew dry, though whether from the weight of the world pressing down on her shoulders or more mundane worries she didn't know.

She had no choice. She dialed the phone. The phone started to ring.

"Yes," said the distorted voice on the other end. Though K.T. couldn't be sure, it sounded like a woman, with perhaps a touch of Russian in her accent.

"Um," said K.T. What to say? What could she say? "I'm K.T. Jonathan said to call. I'm looking to make money. To, um, work."

Silence hung on the other end of the phone. "How old are you, girl?"

K.T. shivered at the question. Jonathan had asked the same thing. "Fourteen," she said, though the word came out half a whisper

Undecipherable muttering came over the phone and then, "Come to this address. We'll need to look you over." The woman on the other end rattled off a street name and number, which K.T. had to struggle to remember. "Got it?"

"Yes."

"Good. Come as soon as you can, but don't be followed."

The dial tone started to ring.

For long moments, K.T. just stared at the phone. This could well be her last chance to back out. She could turn around, walk away and find some other way to get silver.

But she didn't have another way and the path through the weight of the world wouldn't let her gamble with such chances. Her stomach clenched.

K.T. let the phone drop and headed to her meeting.

"423 Backers Street," said K.T. under her breath as she hiked up the aforementioned street. "423 Backers Street."

Backers Street was in the city proper but on the opposite side to the mall and the abandoned factories. Cramped gray buildings line the street. Most of the ground floor windows had bars over them and a few even had bars guarding the first floor too. Old cars sat part at the sides of the road, mostly dirty and some showing rust. In the distance she could hear wailing police sirens.

"423," she said again and looked at the numbers painted above the mail boxes. This house had numbers 420 through 426. Good.

She walked up to the door, looked down a line of electronic buzzers and pressed the one labeled 423.

A few seconds later, a broken electronic voice said, "Yes?"

"It's me," said K.T., "K.T. You said to come."

The door buzzed and K.T. pushed it open. Concrete steps led upwards on the other side. She set to climbing.

Flat number 423 was on the left hand side of the first floor. The door was red but that particular dark red paint sometimes goes when uncared for. The only part that looked clean was the peephole, which shone like a black eye. K.T. pushed down the snakes in her gut and knocked.

Muffled footsteps sounded from the other side and then the door swung inwards.

A tall gaunt woman stared down at K.T. Her lips pulled into a sour expression as she took K.T. in. A cigarette hung smoking in her hand.

"Inside," she snapped, "do not wait." She sounded Russian, to K.T., or perhaps Eastern European.

The house beyond the door smelt of heavy perfume and stale smoke. K.T. took a faltering step inside and the woman slammed the door shut. K.T. whipped her head around, just in time to see the woman slamming shut a large deadbolt.

"I am Kasia," said the woman. "You want to work?"

Want to work? K.T. felt her knees shake at the words but she forced herself to nod her head. "I need money," she said.

"You like sex?"

How could she possibly answer that? K.T. forced a smile and nodded her head. The darkness in her eyes put the lie to her action.

"So you just like money then. Is good. Some men prefer."

Standing in this strange woman's flat, smelling her overly strong perfume and old cigarettes and hearing such terrible things, K.T. wanted to cry again.

"Come," said Kasia. She pulled K.T. deeper into the flat and then into a lounge. An old buzzing TV stood on its stand against one wall and a couch sat facing it. On the couch sat a middle-aged Asian woman, who also had a smoldering cigarette in one hand.

Kasia prodded K.T. into the middle of the room and then sat down next to the other woman on the couch. Twin lines of smoke rose as they both dragged on their cigarettes.

"This is Min," said Kasia.

Min narrowed her eyes at K.T. "Scrawny thing, aren't you?" She didn't sound Asian but didn't sound American either. K.T. couldn't place her accent.

"Fourteen," said Kasia, "or so she says. I think we'll sell her for younger, since she has the looks."

Min nodded her head. "Well, girl, let's have a look at you. Strip."

K.T.'s heart jumped. "What?"

"Strip," said Min. "We need to see what you'll be selling. Different men have different tastes."

"You want me to get naked?" said K.T. She took a step back and half covered her chest with her arms, for all she wore a bulky hoodie.

Min rolled her eyes. "Yes, girl, naked. Now get to it or you can leave right now and never come back."

Slowly, haltingly, K.T. started to undress. Like she had the day before, she took off her hoodie first. It scrunched against her ears and messed her hair as she pulled it over her head. Her bulky pants and t-shirt followed. That just left her underwear. Under the eyes of the two older women, K.T. removed that too and stood naked and shivering in the room.

"Not much tit," said Min.

"We'll sell her young. Twelve, maybe, eleven," said Kasia. She made a circle with the tip of her cigarette. "Turn for us."

Blushing and with blood pounding in her ears, K.T. made a slow rotation. She felt like a piece of butcher's meat.

"What happened to your ass, girl?" snapped Min.

I was whipped with a belt, thought K.T. but she couldn't say that. Instead she muttered, "Fell."

"I think we can work with her," said Min.

"Good," said Kasia and picked up a bulky camera from a table next to the couch. She pointed the devise at K.T. "Now stop covering yourself and smile."

K.T. did the exact opposite. She shrieked, half hunched and turned her back. The very idea of having her naked body frozen in film made her skin crawl.

Min's fingers latched onto her shoulder and yanked her around. She slapped K.T. hard across the cheek with her cigarette hand and then breathed a cloud of noxious smoke into her face. K.T. fell back coughing.

"When we tell you to do something," said Min, "you fucking do it. You do not ask why, you do not resist, you just fucking do it, understand?" She reached forward, took hold of K.T.'s left nipple and some of the surrounding tit-flesh and twisted. K.T. screamed as sharp cutting pain rushed through her chest.

"Yes, yes!" she shouted. Min let go and K.T. clutched her abused breast.

"Photos?" said Kasia and waggled the camera.

Min retreated out of frame, and K.T. forced herself to stand upright. Her whole body shook with tiny shakes and a pulsing sickly heat ran out from her left tit with every heartbeat. With tears stinging her eyes she forced a smile and looked at Kasia.

Snap, snap, snap, went the camera, and black Polaroid sheets dropped from the photo slot.

"Good," said Kasia. "Now look coy. No, more playful than that. Almost. There." Click. Click. "Now spread your legs and hold your arms wide. Wider. Wider. Okay, that will do." Click. Click.

Each dropping photo felt like another slap to K.T. She stood naked in the room, body spread wide while the camera raped her again and again. Her arms shook from being held wide and her knees trembled.

The photo shoot continued, with Kasia directing K.T. into a range of obscene and degrading positions. She had K.T. on all fours, one with her ass facing the camera, another with her face. Kasia had a set with K.T. on her back with her legs spread, hands resting lightly on her pussy, and another with her kneeling, looking up at the camera with her wide blue eyes.

Finally it was done. K.T. looked down at the pile of slowly developing photos spread out on the coffee table.

She never wanted to see a camera again. The only reason she didn't run away was the weight of the world tottering over her head. And since prostituting herself for money was a step removed from Achillbeg's path of silver, copper and starlight, she felt each insult that more sharply.

"Do I get paid now?"

Min laughed in her face. "No you don't get 'paid now'. These are for your catalog. We'll show it to potential clients and if he picks you out, then you'll get paid."

"Here's how it works," said Kasia. "We provide a matching service between you and clients. When we find a client for you, we'll call you on this." She set down a blinking pager. "We'll send a time. When we do, you come here to this flat. We prepare you. The driver takes you to the client. You go inside. You perform. The driver takes you back here. We give you your cut of the money. You leave. Simple."

K.T.'s lips were dry. "How often and how much."

"That depends on the client," said Kasia. "If you are popular and cultivate regulars, then you will get more work and may get paid more. You may even get gifts. For now, you'll get about $60 per engagement and perhaps one or two such engagement's a week."

$120 a week. Not long ago it would have seemed a fortune, but now it didn't seem near enough. She needed more money than that if she was to buy silver.

"Is there," she said, voice like paper, "a way I could earn more?"

Kasia and Min shared a look. "Girls willing to do more, earn more per engagement," said Kasia.

"You want your ass fucked, girl?" ask Min.

K.T. shook her head, face white.

"Then you'll take $60 and be happy for it."

K.T. left the flat listless and wondering. The pager hung heavy in her hoodie's front pocket. Through no conscious design, her feet took her too a nearby skate-park. It wasn't one she normally used, being on the far side of the city, but it had a good selection of ramps, bars and pipes.

She spent the rest of the day throwing herself down slopes and up inclines. She did it with an anger and focus that kept the other skaters off her. It should have been catharsis through motion, but not even the speed and power of her board could help her. The weight of the world pressed down against her shoulders and the equally heavy weight of the pager thumped against her gut.

With the sun red and low in the sky, sparking fire off the glass towers of the city center, she shouldered her board and began the long trudge home. Just as she left the skate-park, the pager buzzed.

She stopped in place, heart hammering. With numb trembling fingers she pulled it out and looked at the scrolling text display. Maybe this wasn't a job. Maybe it was something else entirely. In glaring red letters it read 20:00. That was about an hour away.

On limbs suddenly more tired than even skateboarding could explain, K.T. walked back to the flat.

At the door, Kasia pulled her inside. "Quick, quick. We need to get you ready." Kasia yanked the skateboard from K.T.'s hands and dumped it by the door. Its lack left her feeling naked, even fully clothed.

"What's happening?" asked K.T. as she was shoved down the flat's narrow hallway.

"Your first appointment."

K.T. almost tripped at that. "An appointment! With who?"

"We'll explain everything when you're ready."

Kasia pushed K.T. into the bathroom, where Min stood waiting. She stood over the bathtub, with the active shower head in hand and a line of shampoos and body washes ready.

"Off with your clothes," said Min.

When K.T. didn't move quickly enough, Kasia started removing them herself. She yanked K.T.'s hoodie over her head and just about pulled her ears off.

"I can do it!" said K.T. and removed the rest. The clothes made an ugly pile in a corner of the bathroom.

Once naked, Kasia ushered K.T. into the bath and Min sprayed her down with lukewarm water. Next Min picked up a harsh scrubbing brush and worked K.T. over in a way that was both humiliating and utterly impersonal. The brush scrubbed everything. Its coarse bristles scrapped her small breasts almost raw and inflamed her already bruised ass.

At the same time, Kasia dumped shampoo into K.T.'s short hair and began working it into a lather. "I wish you had longer hair," she said as her knuckles kneaded K.T.'s scalp so hard it hurt. "You'd be very pretty with long hair."

"I don't want to be pretty," said K.T. from between gritted teeth. Min slapped her ass and K.T. jumped. The blow wasn't even hard but the casual violence of the act set her nerves on edge.

To complete the cleaning, Min forced K.T.'s pussy open with two fingers until the pink showed and blasted it with the shower head. The harsh heavy water brought tears to K.T.'s eyes.

After the shampoo and scrubbing came a body wash and other ablutions. As Min's hands glided over K.T.'s skin in a way that was almost pleasant, Kasia forced a cup of burning mouthwash between K.T.'s lips and made her swirl it about for several minutes before she could spit it out.

Kasia took a nail brush to K.T.'s fingers and got rid of all the trapped dirt. "You need longer nails, too," she said. "Short nails are for lesbians."

At last Kasia hauled K.T. from the tub, and they set to her body with large fluffy towels. Once dry they prodded her naked and shivering from the bathroom and to a spare bedroom, filled with hanging costumes.

Min pulled a set of clothes off a hanger.

"What are those!" said K.T. She took a step back and bumped into the gaunt, almost vampire like Kasia.

"Your uniform for tonight," said Min. "The customer requested it." Min held a cut down cheer leading uniform, consisting of a slightly-pleated skirt that would only just go below her ass and a tight vest-top that would leave her mid drift bare. Both shared the same blue-white color scheme.

At fourteen K.T. was in 8th grade and in her third year of junior high, so she well recognized her school's colors, but while she held the cheer-squad in nothing but contempt as the dump sluts they were, she also knew even they would balk at wearing a uniform this sexualized. It wasn't a real cheerleader uniform but rather a porno's dream of one.

"I'm not wearing that," she said and shook her head from side to side. "Why can't I just wear my normal clothes?"

"Because," said Min and she lent close to K.T., "you're a whore and whores wear what they are paid to wear."

K.T. gulped and remembered the slap, tit-twist and spank. Min was free with violence and there was a disturbing edge to the woman. And then there was the weight of the world. If she ever stepped off the path, it would crush her into the blackest depression. She'd suffered under that weight her whole life but only after Achillbeg remove her pain did she realize what a crushing burden it was. She couldn't go back, wouldn't.

Eyes down, K.T. took the costume and pulled it on.

Putting the costume on too almost no time, but Min wasn't happy with simply on. She spent several minutes fussing over exactly how much naked teenage flesh should be on display and where. When that task was finally done, Min sat K.T. down on the room's soft bed and began applying makeup. K.T. had worn makeup only a few times in her life and never willingly. Min didn't care. She applied blush, eyeliner and lipstick as K.T. twitched and fidgeted.

During this process, Kasia ran a stiff plastic comb through K.T.'s hair and pulled it back out of her face. Normally, K.T. wore her hair in an disorderly messy mop, but Kasia and her comb tamed it somehow.

When done, they prodded K.T. up and pushed her in front of the mirror, K.T. almost didn't recognize the girl looking back.

The girl there was younger than K.T. but a wrong sort of sexualized youngness. Her blue eyes popped and the lines of her face seemed sharper. Even the slight kink in her nose seemed less than normal. The cheerleader top clung to her torso, giving only the slightest hint of tits, and the skirt barely reached the middle of her thighs.

Only the knees spoiled the look, covered with cuts and grazes.

"Long socks?" asked Kasia.

Min nodded and forced K.T. into a set of long white socks that ended just above her knees.

"That will do," said Min.

"You'll be meeting with a man named Mr. Stevenson," said Kasia. "You don't need to know his full name and you'll call him either Mr. Stevenson or Sir. Yours is Tracy, you are twelve years old and in your first year of junior high. Mr. Stevenson likes his girls young but also likes them to enjoy themselves, so at least try to pretend."

Kasia turned to Min. "Think she could do spunky?"

Min shook her head. "Spiky yes, spunky no. Let's keep this simple."

"In which case, smile, smile, smile, and moan when it comes to sex."

Snakes grew in K.T.'s guts and each word fed them. Part of her must have believed this moment would never come, because looking at her on rushing whoredom, she just wanted to collapse and cry.

"Now listen closely," continued Kasia, "because this is what you will be doing..."

When Kasia had described being picked up by a driver, K.T. had mentally pictured a black limo of the kind celebrities used to sweep about town or perhaps the dark gray town cars of the New York rich. Of course, if she'd stopped and thought about it, she would have realized that was silly, but seeing the beat up white sprinter van was still a shock.

The driver rolled down the passenger window and leaned over. "You the girl?" he asked. He was a short man, with a mass of black-brown stubble, pock-marks on his cheeks and a bent nose.

"I'm K.T., I mean Tracy," said K.T. and made a fast dash from the shelter of 423 Backers Street to the van. The evening air made her exposed skin prickle with goosebumps and in the skimpy cheerleading outfit, there was much more of it than normal.

"In the back," said the driver. He pulled a handle by his seat and the rear doors fell open. K.T. hopped inside, pulled the doors shut behind her and sat down on the molded metal floor.

The van's engine burst to rumbling life and it pulled away from the curb. And fuck was it a bumpy ride. Every pothole and imperfection in the road traveled straight up through K.T.'s ass and rattled her teeth. After a few minutes, she clambered to her feet and sat crouched, facing forward. The journey was still rough but at least tolerable.

They came to a stop fifteen minutes later, the driver popped the rear doors and K.T. clambered out. The first thing she did was stretch to work the kinks out of her rattled body. The driver stared dumbly at her from a few feet away, penis hard in his crotch. His eyes made K.T. shiver, as if their movement rubbed dirt into her skin.

They were in a back alley, though not the one in which Achillbeg made his home. She looked up and recognized the rear of the Empire Hotel, the oldest and most expensive hotel in town.

The driver led K.T. towards a back service doorway and knocked. A few seconds later, a uniformed bellhop pulled it open and looked down at K.T.

"This her?" he asked, eyes showing nothing but contempt.

"Yep," said the driver. "Bring her back when she's done."

"This way," said the bellhop, "and stay quiet." His hand closed around K.T.'s upper-arm hard enough to hurt and he dragged her forward.

The service door led to the hotel's service ways, bare concrete passages filled with linen trolleys, cleaning supplies and miscellaneous boxes. They were lined with thin ratty carpet where there was any floor covering at all.

After making their way through the mess, the bellhop opened another door. K.T. looked through and saw an ancient staircase with cold bare metal handrails.

They started up the first flight and just kept on climbing. The Empire Hotel was an old tall building and K.T's rendezvous was clearly on a high floor.

When they at last made it, K.T. was panting and her legs burnt. A knot twisted in her thigh and she yanked her shoulder free of the bellhop to rub it. It softened and faded under her fingers.

He scowled at her but let her recover. "Room 812," he said and pulled open a third door. This one showed a wood lined hallway, with a thick flush carpet and growing plants in pots. He pushed his head through and looked both ways. "That's it just over there. Go now and go quick. Come back here when you are done. I'll be waiting."

K.T. pushed down her nerves, stood on legs trembling for entirely different reasons than before and strode through the door. 812 was just across the way.

Focus on the path, she told herself. She could feel it around and above her. The world's weight was there but so was the path. Silver, the river's copper and the light of the star Arcturus, it told her. This night would get her silver and she could feel the push. Just go with the flow. Don't question. Don't feel pain. Tears stung her eyes as she reached the door and knocked.

A well-dressed business man pulled it open and ushered her inside. He slammed it just after and the noise sent panic spiking through K.T.'s flesh.

"You must be Tracy?" he said and smiled. It wasn't a nice smile, at least not beneath the surface.

It took K.T. a second to place the name but a jolt of panic kicked everything into place. "Uhuh," said K.T. and forced a smile. Her heart thundered in her chest. "Are you Mr Stevenson?"

"That I am," he said. "Now Tracy, are you ready to be my special friend?"

What was this, a TV pedo-scare special? Once more K.T. forced her lips into a smile and nodded her head. "Yes, sir."

"Good."

He led her by the hand into the hotel room's bedroom. He sat on the bed and motioned for her to stand in front of it, a few feet before the TV.

"Why don't you start by showing me one of your routines?"

Her heart jolted in her chest. "Routines?"

"Yes, routine. You are a cheerleader."

K.T. felt a surge of relief as the pieces fell into place, but it quickly morphed into a second spike of panic. She wasn't a cheerleader and didn't know the first thing about dancing or routines or whatever else cheerleaders did.

Hating herself for every word, she said, "Oh, but wouldn't you prefer too..." She let the word trail off and toyed coquettishly at the neck of her top.

"Now now," he said with a laugh. "Why you little minx. Well, if you are that eager, why don't we make it a strip tease?"

K.T. wanted to crawl up and die but she kept the lie on her face and smiled at the man. Only the push of the path kept her going. It told her to do anything to get silver. It told her to be a whore, to humiliate and debase herself for money. It said...

Smile, smile, smile. Kasia's words ghosted around her ears and she could feel the woman at her back, like a malignant demon.

Slowly, jerking, K.T. started to move.

The hips came easiest. The hips were the key to skating and they made the body move too. She moved her hips and her shoulders moved with them, and her arms and her legs. The desires and designs of the path moved through her and with it her bad approximation of a sexy dance.

"How old are you, Tracy?" ask Mr Stevenson.

"I'm twelve, sir." K.T. forced the words out sickly sweet.

"Mmm, you look it. Do you like sex, Tracy?"

K.T. rubbed her small breasts through the top and ground her fear-hard nipples under her palms. She faked a moan and said, "Oh yes, sir. I just love having my pussy pounded."

"So who have you fucked, Tracy?"

"I've fucked my..." Who, who, who? What would the sluts at school do? "I've fucked my teachers at school so they'll give me good grades."

Mr Stevenson shook his head and mock tisked. "That's a very bad thing to do, Tracy. It is a good thing I'm here to punish you."

God, no. K.T. shook for a moment before forcing her hips and shoulders back into motion. Under Mr Stevenson's hungry eyes, she gyrated, contorted and offered up her body like a sacrificial animal on the alter of a perverted god.

"I'm a bad girl, sir," she said, "and need to be punished." The words made her want to vomit, but the weight of the world demanded yet more.

"You most assuredly do. Now show me a little skin."

K.T. grabbed her top and pulled it over her head. "Oops," she said and touched finger to lips. "I forgot to put a bra on." She let the top drop to the floor. It felt like her dignity went with it. You couldn't play the slut without being the slut.

Mr Stevenson's eyes locked onto her small, tea-cup breasts and their sharp nipples. "Come here."

K.T. scurried forward. Any solace from her humiliation. Mr Stevenson grabbed her just under her arms, lifted her onto the bed and dumped her down on her back.

The bed was soft but the drop still hit like a muffled hammer. K.T. let out a pathetic puff of breath. Mr Stevenson hung over her, his shaven face showing only a hint of stubble this late at night. She could smell a sharp, cutting aftershave off him. He wasn't fat and was even good looking in a bland sort of way; K.T. wasn't sure if that made it better or worse.

"You're so handsome," she purred and ran a hand along his cheek. Her own words were like poisoned daggers in her chest.

"And you're a delectable morsel too, Tracy." Mr Stevenson lowered his head and began to lick at K.T.'s chest. His tongue ran over her breasts and around her nipples.

The sensations were strange. K.T. couldn't quite place them, so she lay still as a corpse as Mr Stevenson licked and ate her breasts. It wasn't unpleasant, not physically at least. His tongue-work just left her feeling a little cold and bit a dead. She could feel the grain of his faint stubble as it pulled across the sensitive skin of her chest. And then there were his lips. K.T. could feel his lips, strong tongue and occasionally even his teeth as he molested her breasts.

But smile, smile, smile.

"Oh Mr Stevenson," she lied in her best dumb-slut voice normally only used for mockery. "You're so good at this."

"All the better to warm you up, my dear." Mr Stevenson rose, met her eyes and set his hands on her hips. His fingers hooked into the elastic band of the short cheerleader's skirt and his slowly pulled it down her legs.

"Oops," said K.T. Slut. Idiot. Whore. "I forgot to put panties on too." As if she ever wore panties. K.T. much preferred boxers.

"That you did," said Mr Stevenson. He threw her skirt over his head, where it hit the TV and dropped to the floor. A bright hungry fire burnt in his eyes, but it wasn't a clean fire. It burned with insidious chemicals and threw up clouds of noxious fumes.

As he stared down at K.T., Mr Stevenson set to stripping. He slipped off his suit jacket, unknotted his tie, undid several of his shirt buttons and slipped out of his trousers. With the next motion he freed his rock hard cock and slowly jacked it in his hand.

K.T. eyed it like a viper. She'd only seen one other cock in her life (belonging to Jonathan in the jewelry store) and this one was slightly bigger. Whether that actually made it big, she couldn't say, but the thought of it smashing into her set her heart racing with panic all the same.

The sex began.

Mr Stevenson lined up his cock with K.T.'s pussy and slowly pushed inside. At least he was gentle but gentle didn't mean much. K.T. screwed her eyes shut and bit down her pain as the second cock of her life ripped her apart. There was no pleasure, just a slow, relentless stretching.

Smile, smile, smile, whispered the demon by her ear.

"Oh, sir," she said. "You are so big and so good." What did perverted pedophiles like? "And I'm just a small girl. You'll rip me in two."

A growl rumbled out of Mr Stevenson's chest and throat, and he thrust his hips hard. His cock speared and bruised her depths. K.T. let out a gasp as raw wrongness poisoned her. It hurt like nothing had ever before, nothing bar her first rape anyway.

Mr Stevenson finished bottoming out and for several seconds just lay on top of her. Even with his arms supporting some of his weight, it was still hard for K.T. to breathe. As least he was distracted enough that K.T. could let the pain show on her face. Raw, terrified anguish disfigured her features and she wept silent tears that rolled down her cheeks.

"You're so tight, Tracy," he gasped and drew back. The head of his cock scraped and pulled at her clutching, agonized inner walls. Its absence left her pussy feeling voided and wrong. It didn't stay that way for long. Mr Stevenson fucked back in, faster this time, and K.T. let out another pained moan. His hips battered at her, faster, harder. His body jerked and twitched like a dying thing above her as he drove spikes of pain deeper and deeper into her body.

K.T. was sobbing now, loud and deep.

Smile, smile, smile. Smile, smile, smile.

And she did smile, even as she cried. She forced a clown's horrifying grin onto her face. Tears flowed from her eyes but how she smiled. And she was a clown. A fool. A whore. She was an idiot dressed as a cheerleader, plastered with makeup and sold as living meat for pennies.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, went Mr Stevenson. He was a carnivore. A meat eater. He tore into her with is penis. He took heaving breaths and his cock twitched as it violated her.

Not long. Not long.

Not long indeed.

Mr Stevenson gasped as if stabbed and his whole body twitched. Hot fiery cum spurted into K.T.'s violated body. It soiled and stained her. He let out a final gasp of breath and collapsed. Mr Stevenson wasn't a large man but he was fully grown and his weight crushed K.T to the bed. Perhaps that was for the best. Trapped and barely breathing, K.T. recovered enough of her emotions to stop crying.

It took several minutes for Mr Stevenson to recover, during which time his penis slowly softened and cooling cum dribbled from K.T.'s abused pussy. When he did, he pushed himself up with one arm and rolled over onto the other side of the bed.

K.T. wasn't sure if there was more required of her, but it seemed not. Mr Stevenson started snoring and showed no sign of awaking. She took that as her cue to leave.

In the grave like hotel room, she quickly gathered up her clothes, dressed and slipped out the door. From there it was only a short dash to the staff stairway where the impatient bellhop waited. He looked at K.T. with a mix of annoyance and contempt and hurried her down the stairs and out the back door.

It was dark out and the lights of the city stole the stars. K.T. hugged herself and shivered. The driver in his white van flashed his lights and she hurried over. She sat in silence in the back of the van as he drove her back to Kasia and Min's flat.

Min looked at her without saying a word while Kasia grilled her for details on her engagement. K.T. found it hard to answer in anything more than muttered syllables. They took her cheerleading costume, and returned her real clothes and board. On K.T.'s way out the door, Min counted off seven $10 bills. It was a small fortune for a fourteen year old girl, but it wasn't for her. It was for silver and Achillbeg and the sky. Oh God how did K.T. need the sky. It would wash away all the foul things she'd done to herself.

K.T. spent part of her earnings on a late night bus. When she at last reached home in the dark hours of the night, her parents didn't scream at her. They barely looked at her. Her mother was waiting on the stairs, eyes red from crying, but ran at the sight of K.T. Her dad just turned his back. K.T. walked past him to her room and slammed her bedroom door closed.

The next day was Monday and that meant school. K.T. could hardly make herself get up. She wanted to blow everything off, take her money, buy some silver bauble and hope against hope it was enough for Achillbeg to send her to the sky again. But she remembered reading the prices in Juniper and Co. It would be a trifling piece of silver indeed she could afford with only sixty seven dollars and twenty four cents, all that remained from the night-before's earnings. Copper or starlight? Beyond the pennies in her pocket she didn't even know where to start looking for such things. More, the path in her head pointed to silver first. Copper and starlight would come later.

Slowly, on aching legs and with her pussy feeling as if torn and beaten, K.T. got ready for school.

K.T. hated school. It was full of lairs, fools, hypocrites, sluts and monsters. She could feel the eyes of the other students upon her as she walked through the gate. Somewhere behind their judging eyes they knew she was a whore and hated her for it. And they were right. The stain of what she'd done was always there.

She couldn't concentrate in class either. That wasn't unusual but this was different. Her thoughts kept slipping to the pager in her pocket. When would it ring? When would it summon her to a rape such that she might buy silver.

As the days past with no call, the weight of the world pressed down with greater and greater force. Cracks spread through the path that kept it off her. She needed Achillbeg. She needed the sky. She needed the festering cancer that grew within her cut out.

Late on Wednesday afternoon, K.T. slowly walked home. She could barely put one foot in front of another. She knew she couldn't just keep waiting much longer. She'd need to return to the mall, and beg, steal or whore more jewelry off Jonathan.

"K.T.!"

K.T. looked up and then back.

Thatcher jogged towards her, one hand raised in the air. Thatcher was Blaze's friend and Blaze was Taylor's boy friend. Taylor was of course the only person in the world K.T. could stand. That didn't mean K.T. liked Thatcher. Quite the opposite. She hated the boy and his poser clothes and how he tried to worm his way into her pants.

But...

Looking at him now and with the weight of the world on her head, it was hard to raise the passion to hate. It was hard to raise the passion to do anything, even breathe.

Thatcher reached K.T., panting slightly. "K.T.," he said and then stopped to gather his breath. "Look, I know things didn't go well the other night but I was wondering... Well, could I buy you a burger some time? Maybe hit up a movie?"

A week ago, K.T. would have ripped his balls off for such a request. Now, though, it was hard to care. "One hundred dollars," she said.

"What?" Thatcher looked confused.

"Fuck the hypocrisy," she said. "One hundred dollars and you can fuck me. No date. No food. No lies. Just money for sex." She met his eyes and watched the confusion shifted to caution and then to hunger. K.T. underwent her own shift. With the promise of money and silver so near, a flicker of life surged through her blood.

"For real?" he asked.

"Do you want to fuck or not?"

"Yes! It's just, I'll need some time to get that kind of money. Could you give me a few hours?"

"I don't care what you do. Give me the money and I'll fuck you. Everything else is your shit. I'll be in the park."

That was where Thatcher found K.T. two hours later. He'd taken time to clean up slightly. He'd combed his hair and changed his clothes. "Um," he said and half proffered a wad of crumpled bills. "It's all there. One hundred dollars I mean."

K.T. slung her board over her shoulder, grabbed the money and stuck it in her pocket.

"Do you want to do something first. I mean if you're hungry we could—"

"I want you to shut up," said K.T. "Where do you want to fuck?"

"Um, I mean my parents are out at the moment. We could go to my house."

"I really don't care."

Thatcher led K.T. to his house. It wasn't far away, perhaps fifteen minutes, and stood on a quiet suburban backstreet. Thatcher pulled out a key and let them inside. "This way," he said. "My bedroom's up here."

The house was awful. Oh it wasn't a condemn building but it stank of the kind of hypocrisy and lies K.T. hated. Cutesie crap cluttered the walls — things like grinning china cats, oil paintings of sad dogs and family photos showing a grinning, laughing family. There were four of them. A man, a woman, an older girl and a kid who must be Thatcher. It made K.T. want to find a knife and start slashing.

"Um, well," said Thatcher as he pushed open a door on the first floor. "This is my room." His room was a bit bigger than K.T.'s, with a large double bed, a number of cupboards blocked off by sliding mirrors and a SNES lying on a desk next to a small TV. Fresh sheets covered the bed and the heavy scent of body spray hung in the air.

K.T. walked in side, dropped her board by the desk and started to strip.

"Don't you want to..." started Thatcher but caught her eyes. "Right, um." He walked through the door, closed it behind him and then proceeded to stand gormlessly as K.T. undressed.

For K.T. it was the most 'normal' of her two sexual experiences. She'd stripped for Jonathan and stripped for that bastard Stevenson, but both were terrifying events. Thatcher, right here and right now, was just pathetic. She pulled off her last sock and stood upright, her nude body on full display.

"Like what you paid for?" she asked. K.T. was a mixture of scrawny and athletic, meaning wiry muscles in places and knobbly bones in others. She also had a collection of blue-black bruises across her ass, legs, stomach and tits. The last week hadn't been kind to her.

Thatcher winced. "Don't put it like that?"

"Why not? You gave me money for sex. I'm a whore. Smile, smile, smile, while you pound my cunt for cash." K.T. smiled her clown's smile, a grimace that split her face, and let loose a fake erotic moan.

Thatcher took a step back and his back bumped into the door. "Perhaps this wasn't a good idea..."

"Aha, the big boy scared to fuck the little girl." She brought her hands up and cupped her near-flat tits. "Don't want these?"

"This was a mistake." He looked away from her.

"Fine," said K.T. and snatched up her boxers from the floor. "But you're not getting your money back."

Thatcher didn't say anything and for some reason that just annoyed K.T. even more.

"What's the matter? To scared to fuck me?"

More silence.

"You're what, seventeen? And you're scared of a little fourteen year old girl. You make me sick."

Thatcher's lip curled with annoyance.

Boxers still in one hand, K.T. shoved him hard. "Coward. All that to get in my pants and you back out now. Fag."

That did it. Rage split Thatcher's face and he shoved her back. Hard. K.T. staggered, tripped and collapsed onto the bed. And then Thatcher was over her.

"Shut up!" he shouted and his hands locked around her neck. K.T. tried to break free, but Thatcher was taller, stronger and larger. His hips spread her legs wide. "You don't know who I am!" He squeezed harder, fingers biting into her wind pipe. "You don't know anything!"

He let go but only so he could wrench his belt loose and drop his pants. His cock sprung free and K.T. took a gasping half breath. And then his hands were back around K.T.'s neck. His eyes were that of a wild animal, all human control thrown away.

His fingers pressed down against her wind pipe. The power of his thrusts shook her body. His cock forced its way deep into her pussy. Her immature nether lips stretched and strained to take his girth. She couldn't breathe. Blackness crowded in from the edges of her vision. Desperate fire burned in her lungs.

It was all too much. K.T. bucked under Thatcher, desperately trying to break free even as Thatcher stabbed into her again and again. He didn't care. He just fucked her and fucked her and strangled her and strangled her. She wasn't a human being. She was meat, to be used and abused to sate male rage. She was a prostitute. She'd sold herself for money and silver and all to escape the pain of the world — what everyone else suffered under all their lives.

She met his furious gaze, her own eyes crystal blue and oddly serene in the face of such a storm. This wasn't love making. It was hate fucking, all passion and rage. And like all hot rages it couldn't last.

Thatcher exploded into her. His fingers latched down bruising tight, his hips jerked, scolding sperm soiled her depths and then he let go. Thatcher stumbled back and K.T. was free for the first time since the assault began.

K.T. took a gasping breath and electric elation surged through her flesh. She let out a small moan, that came out horse and croaky. Her skin felt infused with raw vitality, like a live wire. She felt sexual, almost good. And then Thatcher had to touch her and ruin it all.

He staggered forward almost in reverse of his earlier motion, collapsed onto the bed beside her and pulled her into a hug. Her skin crawled at his touch.

Her past sexual encounters had ended quickly but Thatcher was young. After a few minutes to recover, he rolled back on top. He kissed K.T. hard and his tongue forced itself into her mouth.

"God, K.T.," he said pulling back, "you're so fucking hot."

Did he really just forget his previous rage filled assault and expect to shift into gentle sex? Apparently so.

He kissed her again and then all across her face. He kissed her eyes, cheeks, nose and chin. He kissed down her neck, across her chest and groped her breasts as he sucked on her nipples. His lips felt like spiders.

Thatcher fumbled about until his recovered cock found her opening and then the fucking started again. This time he was fully on top of her. His hips pumped up and down, and his cock slammed in and out of her pussy. It hurt less than before. His rage had mostly burned away and the cum added some much needed lubrication. For all that, to K.T. it was worse.

She sobbed just a little as tears stung her eyes.

Thatcher didn't even notice. Again he forced his tongue into K.T.'s mouth. It writhed about like a wet dying thing. His hands found hers and locked her wrists to the mattress.

"You are so great, K.T.," he hissed as he road her. It was a lie. K.T. knew she wasn't great.

"So fucking sexy." Another lie.

"I've wanted you since the first time I saw you."

K.T. didn't know what to say to that, so she kept quiet, just as she had throughout the encounter.

His hips rose and fell. His cock speared in and out. Thatcher was breathing heavily again. Sweat shimmered on his skin. More of his weight pushed down onto her and he pushed her trapped wrists deeper into the mattress.

Thatcher closed his eyes as he panted. As close as they were, K.T. felt his body tensing for another climax.

Her eyes drifted passed Thatcher's heaving body and she froze. Her heart missed a beat. The door stood open and a girl, or perhaps young woman, occupied the space. And K.T. recognized her. This was the woman from the photo — Thatcher's sister. She was tall and sort of gothy, with mat black hair washed through with just a touch of purple. Her skin was pale white and she wore a spiked choker collar around her neck.

The girl grinned like a minx and touched a finger to her curved lips. Slowly on tip toes and with a pair of high-heels held in one hand, she crept forward.

"Oh, K.T.," moaned Thatcher. His chest heaved and his ass clenched. "Almost. Almost."

K.T. could barely pay attention. Her eyes were locked on the girl. She stood right behind her brother now.

"K.T. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" Thatcher's body went taught. "Almost, almost." He made a noise like a strangled pig and once more hot cum defiled K.T.'s innermost depths.

At the same time, Thatcher's sister leaned down so her lips were by his ear and whispered, "Enjoying yourself little brother?"

Thatcher screamed like a little girl and threw himself off of K.T. His still spurting cock shot off jets of cum. Most only soiled the bed but one hit K.T. on the neck and another smacked his sister right in the face.

Thatcher let out an almost pained moan and said, "Get the fuck out Katie."

The sister — Katie — wiped away the cum with a look of distaste, but recovered her poise after a few moments.

"Fuck," she said, as if turning the word over between her lips. "That's a funny word to choose, given what you're up to here." Her eyes turned to K.T., who lay naked and slightly cum covered on the bed. Katie's eyes didn't feel nearly as bad as her brother's... "How old is she anyway?"

"Old enough," said Thatcher. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." He yanked his pants up around his waist and threw a t-shirt at K.T. It landed over her tits.

"I'm fourteen," said K.T. Her t-shirt slithered off her chest, leaving her naked again.

"A little young, isn't she?" asked Katie.

"She's not that young."

"He paid me one hundred dollars," said K.T.

"What!" Katie rounded on her brother. "You paid her?"

Thatcher, for his part, rounded on K.T. "Why did you tell her that?"

"Because it's true," said K.T. and shrugged. She rolled off the bed, found her boxer-shorts under the bed and pulled them over her bony ass.

"This isn't about her," said Katie. "You can't— It's just not— You took advantage of her."

"I did offer," said K.T. as she pulled her t-shirt over her head.

"You offered?" This time Katie's eyes were back on K.T.

"I couldn't be bothered dealing with his dating shit."

Katie laughed slightly at that and a mixed nervous-and-relieved smile grew on Thatcher's face. Katie didn't let it remain there for long. "No," she said, "this is not over."

"But..."

They were still bickering when K.T. slipped out the door.

It was dark when K.T. got outside. The path in her mind spat and pushed her to get silver but that would have to wait for tomorrow. The mall was closed.

The next day was Thursday and K.T. skipped school to go straight to the mall. She had the best part of one hundred and sixty dollars in her pocket. That had to be enough, it just had to be.

The people on the bus gave her strange looks as she sat huddled on her seat with her board pulled up against her chest. The bus rumbled slowly through the city center and K.T. jumped off at the stop nearest the mall. Keeping her head down, she hurried to Juniper and Co.

Juniper and Co. was the only jewelry store in the mall and the only jewelry store K.T. knew how to get to. It was also the home to Jonathan, the first man to rape K.T. and her only source of the silver she needed.

K.T. stood outside Juniper and Co. and pretended to study a display of rings, hanging from a silver plated tree branch on near-invisible threads. Inside, Jonathan finished up with an aging trophy wife, with bleach-blonde hair and a small yapping dog under one arm.

When the trophy wife was done and swept out the door, K.T. slipped inside. Jonathan was a short man, with a ratty face and a tailored suit. His eyes narrowed at the sight of K.T. It made her legs want to give out.

"I need more silver," said K.T., speaking quickly lest nerves overcome her. "I have money — a hundred a fifty dollars." The bus fair into town had ate a little more of her cache.

Jonathan sniffed and K.T. felt very small right then. Jonathan knew very well what K.T. had done to earn her money.

"And what do you want to buy?" he said. "Another bracelet?"

"I don't care!" K.T. shouted the words and felt tears sting her eyes as she did. The weight of the world thrummed against her and the path shoved and shoved. This long without the sky and this close to silver... It was a terrible sensation.

"You will not take that tone with me, thief" said Jonathan. "You're lucky I don't have you barred from the mall and thrown in the cells for good measure. Now, what kind of jewelry do you wish to buy? I should warn you, it will not be high art with such a low price."

"It doesn't matter," said K.T., quieter this time. She studied the polished square tiles under her feet. "I just need silver, okay? As much as I can, as cheep as I can. Please..."

"Just silver?" Jonathan raised an eyebrow. "Not even jewelry, just precious metals?"

"As long as it's silver."

"In which case the most sensible course would be to buy bullion. Silver is currently priced at $8.48 an ounce, when I checked this morning."

$8.48 an ounce. That seemed a lot.

"Of course," he continued, "that's on the commodity market. Once handling, storage and mark up is added, I couldn't sell it for less than, say, eighteen dollars an ounce."

K.T. felt her mind working. One hundred and fifty divided by eighteen was just over half a pound of silver and must surely be enough to satisfy Achillbeg.

"You'd sell me the silver?" K.T. felt her heart hammer and blood surge.

"We don't keep a lot of silver in the shop," he said. "Juniper and Co. has a centralized workshop in Boston. But we keep some bullion on hand for repairs and modifications. I could certainly sell you some under the table. There is just one small matter."

"Anything."

"The matter of your thief tax." His smile turned feral.

A sickly lead weight settled into K.T.'s stomach but it brought an odd stability with it too. As if looking up from the bottom of a deep, dank hole, she said, "You wan to have sex again?"

Jonathan snorted. "I've had enough of your skank-ass cunt, slut. No, let's put that mouth of yours to use."

"My mouth?"

"Suck dick. Don't tell me you've never given a blow job before."

K.T. burned red and bored holes in the tiles yet again. "Please..." she said.

Jonathan snorted, moved to the door and flipped the sign to shut. "Don't bother lying, slut." With that little privacy, he led K.T. into the back room and from there into a small workshop, filled with the tools of a jeweler's trade.

He bent down and fiddled with the dial of a small black safe. For all its size, it looked solid as a rock and heavy enough that K.T. doubted she could even budge it, let alone lift it. The door clicked open and he counted out eight silver wafers from inside. They clinked as he piled them up and K.T.'s eyes stuck to them like iron needles to a magnet. So close...

"Eight one troy ounce bars," said Jonathan. "Three nines purity — that's 99.9%." He held up the topmost. K.T. could almost see her face in its reflective surface. A stamped serial number ran along the bottom of the bar and the letters 'Ag' were pressed into the center.

He placed it back on the pile and turned his hungry eyes on K.T. "Now there is just the matter of your tax." Slowly, as if in no great hurry, he slipped the buckle of his belt, undid his pants and pulled his cock free.

K.T. sagged with defeat, dropped to her knees and forced the bulbous head of the cock between her lips. The cock tasted foul in her mouth. Even with only the head inside, her gag reflex started to twitch.

"Fuck, mall slut," said Jonathan. "You have one hot mouth. Now start sucking a little and mind the teeth."

Clutching her silver wafers in a plastic bag, K.T. hurried out of the mall. The taste of Jonathan's cum still coated her tongue, no matter how much she tried to spit it out. It left her feeling defiled, inside and out. She could feel the eyes and hands of all the men to rape her — Mr Stevenson, Thatcher, Jonathan, all left their special scars on her body and soul.

That really didn't matter, though, not now she had the silver.

K.T. headed straight for Achillbeg's white room and ran most of the way too. Panting, she reached the black door, gathered herself and pushed it open.

Achillbeg stood in the center of the room, surrounded by a spider's web of hair thin silver strands. They formed a complex interconnected pattern. The strands were near invisible and K.T. could only see them at all because of the soft light issuing from the joints in Achillbeg's crystalline body.

"I've got silver." She held the bag up, arms shaking slightly from the weight. Even a little silver was a heavy thing.

For several seconds Achillbeg just continued his task. His elegant too-long fingers ran along a silver thread, smoothing and molding it. Music like bells and chimes came from his lips as he stroked and coaxed the silver.

Finally, he looked up and turned to K.T. His fractal multifaceted eyes cut at her breath, turning it ragged. Achillbeg pointed to a pile of mat colored dust lying in one corner of the room. "There were imperfections in the silver," he said. "Take it now and remove it when you leave."

K.T. hurried to the corner but reaching it took far more steps than the modest distance dictated, as if space itself worked against her. Finally, she reached the corner, scooped up the dust and poured it into her carrier bag. It was fine and ran almost like a liquid.

"Silver," she said again but she really said another word in her heart. Sky.

Achillbeg nodded. "You shall have your reward. Bring me the silver."

Once more K.T. hurried forward and the distance seemed less too. She stuck her hand into the bag and pulled out the first of the silver wafers. "I have eight of them," she said. "See, silver." Achillbeg took the first wafer and sunk his crystalline fingers into it. It bent and wavered around the intrusion and ripples moved along the flat mirrored surface.

"It is passable," said Achillbeg. "Impurities are present but I shall remove them while I build my web. You shall give me the rest."

With a disgusting eagerness, K.T. thrust the remaining wafers into Achillbeg's hands. They reflected strange pictures — warped reflections of the white room, Achillbeg and K.T. herself.

Slowly, oh so slowly, Achillbeg raised a finger and moved it towards K.T.'s forehead. Her body shook at its approach, like a drug addict anticipating her fix. The tip met her skin and passed through without the least resistance. It reached her brain, and spirited K.T. away from the painful earthly world to the sky.

The Sky

K.T. floated suspended in the infinite emptiness of the sky. In the sky there was no pain. In the sky there were no worries. Rape didn't exist. Prostitution didn't exist. Families didn't exist. Home and friends and enemies were all gone.

The sky cleansed her. It cleaned away the filth she'd smeared on herself. It scoured away the lies, hypocrisy and pain.

It made life not merely bearable but exalted and it ended all too soon.

K.T. came too sobbing quietly. It wasn't from sadness, though. It was from relief. At last she felt clean again. Mr Stevenson, Thatcher, Jonathan, their fetid taint fell away from her body and soul.

"You have done well," said Achillbeg. He held a near-liquid mass of silver in his hands, all that remained of the wafers. It pulsed, deformed and quivered as he worked it. "But I require more."

"How much more?" asked K.T. She took a gasping breath and the oxygen felt good in her lungs. The rush made her skin tingle.

"Ten times this amount and I shall have enough for my purpose."

If not for the sky's cleansing power, K.T. would have left the white room in the blackest depression. As it was, she merely felt numb. Above her lurked the weight of the world and through it led the path: silver, copper and the light of the star Arcturus. The sky had shored up the cracks but its power was still immense.

Achillbeg required ten times as much silver. That was five pounds worth! Even with the discounts bullion brought that would still require $1350, more than she'd ever seen before in one place.

The path left her no choice.

K.T. made her way back into town but not towards the mall. She rolled along the pavement on her skateboard until she spotted a phone booth and slipped inside.

From the bottom of one pocket she dug out the phone number Jonathan had given her the week before. The ink was a bit smudged but still legible. She pressed out the numbers and waited for the phone to ring.

The phone sounded three times before someone picked it up. "Yes," said a voice — Min's. K.T.'s heart jumped. Min had a violence coiled within her that transmitted even over the phone.

"Um," she said, Think, think, think. "This is K.T... I just, well, you said there were ways I could make more money if I did more things." Her mouth was dry. Her hands shook as she gripped the phone. "I'll do it. Anything. I just need money, as much and as soon as possible."

"I will consider this," said Min and hung up. The dial tone sounded in K.T.'s ear.

A few minutes later her pager buzzed. She had a date.

K.T. was understandably nervous as she made her way to Kasia and Min's flat later that night. The pager had said six thirty. It was now ten past six and she could see Backers Street's just ahead.

She reached the flat proper with ten minutes to spare and tall, almost vampiric Kasia ushered her inside. "Come, come," she said as she pushed K.T. down the hall towards the lounge.

Asian Min sat smoking on the couch. She wasn't alone. Next to her sat a bored looking girl of perhaps sixteen. She had short brown hair pulled back into a ponytail with a scrunchy and the kind of shapely body only teenagers can have without a lot of work. Her breasts were high and perky, the tops just peaking from her crop-top.

The girl ran her eyes up and down K.T. and then turned back to Min. "This her? Kind of young and scrawny."

"She's fourteen," said Kasia and pushed K.T. further into the room.

"Doesn't look it."

Min slapped the girl across her face, sharp and sudden. "Do not question."

"God, yes, okay," muttered the girl as she rubbed her reddening cheek. "You don't need to be such a bitch."

Somewhat shocking K.T., that didn't earn her a second slap.

"K.T.," said Kasia as she sad down on the couch and lit up a cigarette. "This is Becky. Becky this is K.T." She took a long puff and blew out a cloud of smoke.

"You'll be working together," continued Min. "Basic girl-girl show. This client doesn't want to touch. Ignore that he is even there."

Girl-girl... The very idea made K.T.'s stomach squirm. "I've never. I mean I don't... I'm not a..."

"God," said Becky. "You're such a child. You don't need to be a dyke to put on a show. It's just an act. We kiss. We strip. A little fondling. Some licking and we're done. Easy money. No big deal."

To K.T. it very much was a big deal but she bit her tongue and nodded her head. Anything for silver.

Kasia hustled Becky and K.T. into the bathroom and set to preparing them. That meant both Becky and K.T. were in the bathtub naked together, but there was simply too much going on for K.T. to look at the other girl. There butts did bump every so often, though, K.T.'s bony and Becky's rounded.

Min scrubbed down Becky and Kasia worked over K.T. She used a harsh bristled brush and a bottle of body wash filled with tiny plastic beads to scour her clean.

"You're a mass of bruises," said Kasia and K.T. could hear the disapproval even through Kasia's Eastern European accent. "And your neck." Her skeletal hands grabbed K.T.'s chin and pointed it upwards, revealing purpling marks left by Thatcher's hands the day before. "Men like bruises but they only like their bruises." Her fingers bit almost painfully hard into K.T.'s skin.

Kasia let go and moved onto the next stage in preparation. She rubbed K.T. down with a towel and, once dry, dragged her to the clothing room. There she made K.T. stand with her legs spread and arms wide (horribly naked and vulnerable) while she rubbed her body down with concealer. Yellow and purple bruises faded into fleshy skin tone, though not even concealer applied so liberally could hide the worst of her marks.

On the other side of the room, Min put Becky through a similar, though less extreme, process.

Within twenty minutes, both girls were ready. Min and Kasia dressed them in simple preppy clothes in bright primary colors. Becky wore a blue t-shirt with a slightly darker skirt. K.T. wore a red t-shirt with shorts. K.T. didn't like her clothes but they were certainly better than the cheerleader costume she'd worn last time.

"Go," said Kasia, "the van will be waiting for you."

Both girls hurried out of the flat, and Becky held the door of the van open as K.T. climbed inside. It was the same old white sprinter van as last time. Becky jumped in and pulled the door shut after.

As the van pulled out and rumbled down the road, K.T. turned to Becky. Looking at the girl made her stomach do very strange things. Already pretty in the effortless way of some girls, Becky's looks were further enhanced by skillful makeup. Her eyes popped and her lips seemed almost succulent.

"So, um," said K.T., heart beating fast, "you been doing this long? The, um, dates, I mean?" It was one thing to talk so contemptuously of prostitution to a looser like Thatcher but this girl was different somehow. K.T. didn't want to be seen as lesser in her eyes.

Becky rolled her pretty eyes. "Yes I've been doing it 'long'. I started at thirteen if you must know."

Thirteen... K.T. tried to imagine Becky at thirteen, body ravaged by her rapist clients. The thought made her sick.

"Look," said Becky, "could you stop being so weird about all this? Just do what I do and you'll get through this okay."

A little while later, the van reached its destination. Becky clambered out and stretched. Her tight t-shirt road up to bare her stomach. K.T. jumped out after.

They weren't at the back of the Empire Hotel like last time. This place looked cheaper and the electric neon sign read, 'Rooms Available.' A smaller sign gave the name, 'Clearbank Motel'.

"This way," said Becky and led the way around the side of the motel to a back entrance, the door of which was wedged open with a brick. They sneaked inside and Becky took them to a ground floor room, not to far away. "Remember to smile and don't talk to the client. Don't even look at him." She pushed the door open and they went inside.

The room was quite large for a motel room and reasonably well kept. A wide double bed filled most of the space and a large stuffed chair filled most of the remainder. In it sat a fat boding man, with a sweaty brow and feverish eyes. He moaned as Becky and K.T. walked through the door and his hand stroked his small fat cock faster. K.T. forced herself to look away.

Once she saw what was on offer it wasn't so hard.

Becky lay back on the bed, arms wide and lips wearing a come hither expression. K.T. felt her knees go slightly weak but she managed to stumble forward and dropped onto the bed next to Becky.

"Oh Beth," moaned Becky, "I'm so glad you could sneak out to meet me."

Beth; who was Beth? K.T. wanted to panic. They hadn't discussed this at all. Instead she forced a smile (smile, smile, smile) and said, "I'm so glad I could meet you too." Then gathering up her courage and pushed on by the weight of the world, she rolled over and kissed Becky hard.

And God!

It was nothing like kissing Thatcher. This kiss was electric. She moaned as Becky's lips locked with hers. Becky kissed her back, or at least put on a good enough show. She raised her hands and rubbed them over Becky's chest. The breasts felt full of life and energy. Becky did the same thing and her fingers ghosted over K.T.'s ribs and tea-cup breasts. It made K.T.'s skin feel alive.

They continued petting and kissing for several minutes. Truth be told, K.T. barely noticed the passing time so engrossed was she in Becky's lips and body. A near hypnotic spell. Becky broke the spell with a small shove and K.T. pulled back.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw the client pumping away on his cock, sweat dripping from his brow and flabby cheeks. It was a disgusting sight, bit ignorable for now.

Becky ran her hands up K.T.'s sides again and this time took the t-shirt with her. She drew it up until it was crumpled around K.T.'s neck and then started licking and nibbling K.T.'s nipples. Her tongue and teeth sent sparks of energy darting through K.T.'s body. K.T moaned again and her hands ran through Becky's hair.

After another few minutes they switched. Becky fell back to the bed. K.T. took a moment to fully take off her own t-shirt. When it was crumpled in a corner, she pounced upon Becky's body. Even lying flat, her breasts were large. K.T. felt them with her hands and let her fingers test their firm youthfulness. Touching them set her heart hammering and sent strange tangled snakes running through her stomach — a queer excitement.

K.T. mimicked Becky's trick and pulled the other girl's t-shirt up to her neck. This bared her breasts. They were unblemished white and topped with pert pink nipples. K.T. took the left in her mouth and hummed as she rolled it between her lips. After a few seconds, she swapped and gave the right the same treatment.

After a few minutes of back and forth, K.T. reluctantly broke away. Slowly, with a sensual grace K.T. didn't know they possessed, they stripped each other. Socks, shorts and skirts joined t-shirts tangled on the floor. K.T. drank in Becky's naked body. It was so... It was so... Naked and alive and not horrible.

Not even waiting for a cue, K.T. pushed Becky back and put her head between the other girl's legs. Her pussy was pink and hairless. The outer and inner lips showed and her thighs quivered. Even though she was just putting on a show, K.T. wanted Becky to enjoy this. She had no idea what to do, but she did her best.

Slowly, she extended her tongue and licked the offered pussy. It tasted of lemon body wash. She added fingers and slowly worked lips and clit as she sometimes did in the dead of night when she masturbated.

Becky made some moaning sounds and her thighs pressed against K.T.'s ears. K.T. licked harder and longer, her tongue pushing deep into Becky's folds. Becky didn't seem that wet but she certainly moaned loudly enough.

"Mmm," she went, "you're so good at this. Oh, lick me harder. Lick me. Lick me, you slut. Oh God, I love your tongue so much. You know just how to use it. Oh God, oh God." Becky screamed.

To the side, the client let loose a gasp like a tortured kitten and cum bubbled out of his cock.

Sexual energy crackled through the room. Becky drew K.T. from between her legs and laid a kiss on K.T.'s brow. "Almost done," she said in a whisper. "Let me lick you, make some noise and we'll be done before you know it." Becky wore red nail polish and her delicate hands pushed K.T. backwards onto the bed and spread her thighs.

Becky's head disappeared between K.T.'s legs and she started to lick.

K.T.'s eyes opened wide and she let out a loud throaty moan. Lighting bolts shot up through her body. They made her nipples buzz, skin tingle and clit light on fire. This was nothing like sex. Sex hurt, it was degrading and you did it for money. This was something else entirely. Becky twirled her tongue around K.T.'s clit and K.T. whited out her brain for several seconds.

When she came back, she moaned out "Oh God!" Her hands found Becky's head. Without even thinking, she pulled Becky to her as hard as she could.

Becky licked and licked. Her fingers rubbed at K.T.'s fourteen year old pussy and her tongue pushed deep inside. Never had K.T. felt like this. Her hips bucked, her legs crushed Becky's head and she could barely think.

"More, please. More. More."

Becky pushed K.T. higher and higher. She tottered on a mountain top, Becky gave her clit one final tweak, and then she fell screaming off the other side. K.T. screamed so loud it hurt her throat and ears. Her pussy spasmed and her juices gushed out in a tide. Her legs crushed Becky's head as she held the older girl in place. Her body jerked and twitched and her mind went to a far away place as her brain overloaded with pleasure.

When she came down from her high, K.T. let her legs fall a part and fell back with a sated limpness. She looked between her legs with languid eyes, expecting to see a pleased Becky. Instead she saw a face contorted in anger and rage and soaked with girl-cum.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," said K.T. as she chased Becky out the room.

"Don't talk to me! Fuck, you dykes have to ruin everything."

"I'm not a dyke. Please. Please."

"Straight girls don't come their brains out on another girl's tongue! This is girl-girl, fuck-wit. We put on a show. This isn't your opportunity to get your sick kinks on."

Becky was angry. Becky was beyond angry. She'd barely kept it together to end their show gracefully with erotic post-coital banter. Now out of the clients sight and earshot, she kept nothing back.

"If I ever see you again, dyke, it will be too soon." She stormed away, towards the car park.

K.T. wanted to cry or cut her own heart out. The first sexual experience of her life that she enjoyed had ended in this. The weight of the world groaned and creaked above her. The path seemed a very feeble thing right then.

The sex came hard and rough and fast. Now that K.T. had agreed to undertake more extreme engagements, Min and Kasia threw K.T. at client after client.

On the Saturday she had her first gang bang. Three college aged students bought her for the night. They past her around like a rag doll. They fucked her mouth so deep she choked and battered her pussy until it was one giant bruise. They made her join their drinking games too. While one frat brother held the funnel and another her arms, the third poured a full bottle of beer down K.T.'s gullet. K.T. threw-up as soon as they released and beery-vomit ran down her chest. This was apparently very funny.

The Monday after that she was tied up for the first time. An older gentleman, with graying hair and a sharply cut mustache, tied her to the bed with leather belts. The belts bit deep into her arms, legs and stomach. With her trapped and spread, he laid on her and fucked her near bloody. His long thick cock knifed in and out of her pussy and bruised her most private depths.

He also taught her a new word: "Cunt."

"I'm a cunt!" she shouted as he fucked her. "I'm a cunt. I'm a cunt." The words made her burn with mixed anger and degradation, but if she didn't do what the client wanted, she didn't get paid.

The days past and the sex, abuse and humiliation built upon her soul like grime. They made her worthless. It made it true when she cried out "I'm a cunt," while being fucked hard and deep.

Only one thing helped and that was the sky. With each load of silver she brought Achillbeg in his strange white room, he sent her to the sky. He plunged his crystalline finger through her skull and into her brain.

In the sky there was no pain. In the sky she could be cleansed.

But while the sky cleansed her, the grime came back quicker each time. Even in those brief pauses between rapes, the miasma of the world stained her soul.

With the weight of the world pressing down ever heavier, she found some small solace in other things.

One day, while exited her bedroom on her way to Min and Kasai's, she bumped into her mother carrying a stack of laundry. On impulse she hugged the woman tight. There was a warmth there, a human empathy and connection. It linked the two of them in a fundamental way - mother to daughter. Blood to blood.

"I love you mom," she said and ran before her mother could say anything in return.

That night she sold her ass for the first time. She lay on her stomach over the bed. From behind he lined up his greased cock with her asshole and slowly pushed inside. The stretching was the worst. Horrible, sharp knife-like pains split her.

As he fucked her one previously unviolated hole, K.T. cried and bit the sheet covers to drive out the pain. By the end she was a three hole whore and soiled in every way.

Another small solace was Taylor. Taylor was a skater like K.T. and just about the only person in the world K.T. could stand. With the constant river of abusive sex that filled her life, Taylor was a lifeline like no other.

They'd meet once a week, to skate.

One Saturday morning, the day after a particularly bad engagement had seen K.T. dressed as a little girl; spanked so hard she turned into a living mass of blubbering tears, snot and running makeup; stripped; and then fucked with savage strength, K.T. and Taylor met in the skate park near K.T.'s school.

Together they shot down half pipes, pulled ollies and ground rails. Through violent motion and working herself until every muscle ached, K.T. achieved some small measure of humanity. It let her forget the sex and the fucking and the rapes. It cleaned away the layers of worry that cocooned her fate and future.

At the end of a long day, they sat together on the edge of a high ramp, feed dangling, boards across their knees. Being so near Taylor soothed K.T.'s soul. The other girl smelled of honest sweat. Best of all, Taylor's boyfriend Blaze was no where to be seen.

"K.T.," said Taylor as the sun slowly set and cast the embers of twilight across the skate-park.

"Mmm?" K.T. turned to look. Taylor's eyes were oddly serious.

"Blaze has been bothering me. He wanted to know if you'd join us," she said. "In bed I mean. Look, I know you have a thing for me. It's kind of cute. This will be fun."

K.T. felt the weight of the world push her down. And right then she wanted nothing so much as to let it take her and sink into the ground until she disappeared. That wasn't an option, though; the path drew her on. "How much?" The words came out in a murdered whisper. No, no, no, no, no.

Taylor looked confused.

"If Blaze wants to fuck me, he has to pay," said K.T, voice coming stronger. It was like rolling down hill. The more she gave into the path, the more power it had over her. "How much are you offering?"

Taylor laughed and smiled. "You little slut. Thatcher said..." She shook her head. "Well, this is a new side to you. Blaze is rich. Say two hundred. I'll chip in fifty if you play nice with me too." She smiled like a cat and her fingers danced down K.T.'s arm. It made her skin dance with electric energy.

Two hundred and fifty dollars. That was almost a pound of silver. K.T couldn't say no, physically couldn't. The path wouldn't let her and the weight of the world threatened to crush her if she did. It would be like not falling having already jumped.

"Okay."

"Great!" Taylor pulled K.T. into a hug. "This will be fun, trust me."

Blaze really was rich. Taylor and K.T. hopped a bus to the monied side of town, where all the houses were large with sprawling lawns, multiple cars and filled with the kind of hypocrites who thought money could shield them from the pain of the world.

"This way," said Taylor as she led K.T. around the back of a particularly big and ugly house. "We can't go in the front. They have this nosy housekeeper. Always trying to ruin our fun. As if she's not just jealous."

They slipped through a gardener's gate at the back and Taylor pointed at a small hexagonal building separated from the main structure — some kind of guest-house.

"Isn't it cool," said Taylor and shoved K.T. in the shoulder. "Blaze has it all to himself."

K.T. muttered something in acknowledgment and they hiked passed professionally tended flowerbeds and sculpted shrubbery to the building.

Blaze met them at the door. "Babe," he said and swept Taylor into a deep kiss. Taylor giggled and squirmed in his arms but did little to truly escape. Their lips mashed together and their tongues danced. K.T. tried not to be sick.

After almost a minute, they pulled apart. Taylor was panting and wore a happy smile. "She said yes," she said.

Blaze grinned at that and pulled Taylor into a second long kiss. He growled as their lips mauled.

When they again broke apart, Blaze turned his gaze on K.T. His eyes violated her as he looked her over. It made her skin shudder and think of all the terrible things men had done to her. Blaze was tall and solid — the kind of build associated with a footballer or wrestler. He wore his hair gelled up into dozens of little spikes and had a ring through his left eyebrow. A shadow of stubble clung to his chin. Today he wore ripped jeans and a shirt over a black t-shirt, that clung tight to his chest such that it showed his muscles.

"So you want to play?" he said.

K.T. straightened her back and said, "I want to get paid." The path led to silver and as long as she was on the path she could bare this. His grin scraped against her soul.

Blaze shot Taylor a questioning look.

"I said two hundred and fifty," said Taylor, "for the both of us. God, it's kind of sexy isn't it? We're buying our own little toy. I'm sure she'll be worth it. Won't you toy?"

K.T. nodded her head while she studied the gravel path.

"Well come on in," said Blaze and smirked.

Blaze led K.T. and Taylor into the guest house. It was only one floor but separated into a number of different rooms. K.T. barely got to glance into more than one or two before they reached the bedroom.

The bedroom was large and airy. One entire wall was made of windows and they let in the very last of the reddish evening light. Blaze hit the light switch and pulled the blinds across the window.

"Something to drink?" he asked.

"Hell yeah," said Taylor. She rolled her skateboard into the corner and dropped onto the bed, bouncing slightly.

While she got settled, Blaze opened a small fridge and pulled out a handful of lager cans. They shone with condensation. He threw one to Taylor, who caught it, cracked the tab and took a long swig. "Ah," she said, "that's good."

Blaze passed a can to K.T. and then took a swig from his own. After a wiping the foam from his lips, he said, "Why don't you two get warmed up?"

Taylor smiled like a cat, put her lager down on a nearby table and pulled K.T. to her. For a second their faces hung only inches apart. K.T. looked into Taylor's amber eyes, which sparkled with amusement. She felt her heart beat fast as her breath quickened. Memories of Becky welled up in her mind, but this wouldn't be like that. This would be different.

And then they kissed.

K.T. shuddered as Taylor pressed down onto her and forced her tongue into K.T.'s mouth, but it wasn't a bad shudder. This was a good shudder, as if every part of her body hummed in pleasure at once. The other girl's tongue stud was a bolt of cold that brought her mouth alive. K.T.'s lips tingled, her nipples hardened and she felt her pussy quicken.

They broke apart and Taylor smiled a happy, somewhat lecherous grin. "See, fun," she said, "Now give Blaze a kiss." She gave K.T. a light slap on the ass, and K.T. stumbled towards Blaze.

K.T. wasn't a particularly large girl, even for her age, and Blaze was almost a man grown. His presence pushed at K.T., like the shadow from an immense monolith. He set his arms around her shoulders, lowered his face to hears and forced a kiss.

Again K.T. shuddered but this time it was from disgust. Blaze's mouth tasted of alcohol and the stubble on his chin scrapped her face. His tongue forced its way into her mouth, seemingly intent on reaching her tonsils, and his strong arms crushed her against his chest. After a few seconds in which Blaze showed no sign of backing off, K.T. started to jerk and struggle.

"I think she needs to relax a bit more," said Taylor. "Got any weed?"

Without breaking the kiss, Blaze pointed to his backpack and skateboard, which were shoved under the bed.

"Ah, got it," said Taylor a few seconds later. "Let her breathe a minute, would you?"

Blaze backed off and K.T. fell backwards, gasping for breath. Her lips felt bruised and numb. Her bony ass hit the carpet floor and she pushed back the tears that stung her eyes.

Taylor giggled and patted the bed next to her. "Up you get."

K.T. clambered back to the bed and settled next to Taylor. Taylor smelt good and honest and real. It settled her nerves. Taylor held a small joint. "Hold this," she said and passed it over to K.T. Then she fished a lighter out of a pocket, flicked the wheel until the flame caught, and lit the joint. It started to burn and smolder.

Taylor took the burning joint back and drew on it deeply. The embers glowed and she blew out a cloud of strange smelling smoke. "Here," she said, pushing the joint back to K.T. "Take a puff. It will settle your nerves."

"Isn't that, um, illegal?" asked K.T and immediately felt stupid. It was a silly complaint, especially after all that had happened to her over the past weeks.

"Burning fires cannot illuminate the depths of my apathy", said Taylor in a deadpan monotone but then ruined the effect by giggling. She passed the joint to K.T., who took it with trembling fingers and mimicked Taylor's action. Hot intoxicating air filled her lungs, her eyes burnt and her nose tickled. For a moment it almost seemed okay, but then K.T. collapsed spluttering to the bed, snot running out of her nose and tears from her eyes.

Taylor burst out laughing and even Blaze wore a smirk. "Come here," said Taylor. She wiped away the worst of the mess on K.T.'s face and kissed her long and hard. To K.T. it was melty and hot and oh so wonderful. Taylor's blonde girl-dreads fell around K.T.'s face, creating a little cave where the rest of the world didn't exist.

"Let's see some skin," said Blaze.

Taylor pulled back and settled herself so she sat astride K.T.'s hips. She drew her t-shirt over her head and threw it into the corner. "Get my bra," she said. Blaze came up behind, unsnapped the clasp and let the bra fell away to bare Taylor's breasts.

"Real sweater puppies aren't they?" said Blaze and cupped Taylor's tits from behind. His fingers squished into the soft flesh. "And there's these." He moved up, tweaked her nipples and tugged at the rings running through them. Taylor moaned and rolled her hips against K.T.

"Mmm," said Taylor, "I knew I got those pierced for a reason." Blaze tugged on her piercings a second time and Taylor moaned again. "But I think it's unfair I have to show my breasts while our little toy doesn't." Her eyes focused down on K.T. "Arms up, toy."

K.T. did as bid and Taylor dragged first her hoodie and then her t-shirt and bra over her head. Within moments K.T. was topless, her small breasts and bruised torso on display. Which was... good?

It felt strange having Taylor look down at her. Tingly strange. Alive strange. As if she was a sexual being rather than a piece of meat served up for male enjoyment. But Blaze was there too and that was like motor-oil cut through an otherwise tantalizing meal.

Taylor prodded a large bruise that covered part of K.T.'s stomach. Her finger sent a tiny jab of pain into K.T., who took a sharp breath.

"What happened to you, K.T.?" Taylor asked. "Looks like someone worked you over with a rubber hose."

That was about the only thing which hadn't happened. To earn silver K.T. submitted to long hours of painful degrading sex. She was a whore and whores got bruised up. Just how things were on the path of silver, copper and starlight.

With a sigh Taylor rolled off K.T. and Blaze pulled Taylor around so they could start making out. Their faces mashed together in a way that turned K.T.'s stomach. At some point he'd pulled off his shirt and Taylor squirmed half naked against his bare chest.

After a few minutes, they swapped. K.T. made out with Blaze again. It was as distasteful as before as Blaze manhandled her and tried to forcibly lick the depths of her throat. Luckily Blaze passed K.T. over to Taylor after only a few minutes.

Just before they made out again, Taylor smiled like a wanton harlot, drew deeply on the joint until her lungs filled with smoke and kissed K.T. deeply. Heat filled K.T.'s body and soul. In the languid warmth of the kiss, K.T. completely forgot Taylor had yet to exhale, but Taylor certainly hadn't. Eyes sparkling, she breathed out. Intoxicating smoke rushed into K.T.'s lungs, and she fell back choking and coughing. Taylor fell back too, but in laughter.

The threesome alternated like that for a while — sometimes Taylor and Blaze making out, other times Blaze and K.T. (yuck) and sometimes K.T. and Taylor. The intoxicating smoke muffled the unpleasantness of it all and made it almost bearable. Touching Taylor sent a thrill through K.T.'s heart but not even drugs could make foreplay with Blaze enjoyable. The few small sips of the disgusting tasting lager didn't help either.

"I think I'm ready for a little more fun," said Taylor and drew deeply from the joint. The end flared like a tiny star and the paper burnt away. When the last of the weed was gone, she blew out the smoke in a long slow stream that wafted over her naked breasts. When that too was done, she stubbed the joint out and shuffled out of her bulky pants. Beneath she wore a pair of sensible if tight panties. With one finger, she hooked her panties aside to reveal her pussy. It was hot, puffy, red and very, very wet. "Get licking, toy."

The words hit K.T. like a muffled blow and her heart lurched. Slowly, arms shaking, she maneuvered into place between Taylor's legs and extended her tongue. She licked. To her slightly drug addled mind, Taylor's slit tasted sweet.

"Mmm, you're a good toy, aren't you?" said Taylor as she ran her hands over K.T.'s head, fingers playing in the messy blonde hair. Her voice was slightly higher than normal, as the weed worked its strange mischief through her brain. "Lick me, yes that's right. God, lick me."

Hot, sticky feminine smells filled K.T.'s world as she licked away. The taste filled her mouth, the fleshy sight her eyes.

"God you're such a slut, toy."

K.T. ran her tongue across Taylor's slit. Up and down. Up and down. Rhythmic.

"You're a whore." Taylor's words came faster, harder. "I bought you, toy. I own you." Taylor clamped her thighs around K.T.'s head, crushing her ears.

K.T. tried not to let it bother her. She split the lips apart and licked the textured walls inside. The taste was stronger here, potent and feminine.

"Mmm. Fuck me, slut. Fuck me, fuck, fuck, fuck."

K.T. did her best and started toying at Taylor's buzzing clit but it wasn't enough. Taylor loosened her thighs but only enough that she could grab K.T. by the ears and yank her head forward. She crushed K.T.'s face into her juiced up cunt.

Trapped and held in place, Taylor's pussy covered K.T.'s nose and mouth. She tried to take a panicked breath, only for the hot wet seal to stop her. Potent panic ran riot through K.T.'s veins. No, no, no. She tried to pull back but ripping burning pain shot through her ears as Taylor tried to rip them off.

"Hold her down!" shouted Taylor, voice wild with sexual excitement and marijuana's fey touch. "Toy's trying to escape."

Powerful hands latched onto K.T.'s wrists and locked them down.

"Now flip her!"

Taylor rose just enough for K.T. to take a gasping breath, but then Blaze was twisting her body over. She hit the bed back first, saw a flash of ceiling and then Taylor planted her cunt right back down. Puffy red lips filled K.T.'s world.

"Fuck this is good," moaned Taylor as she rolled her hips back and forth. The motion crushed K.T.'s face and smeared cunt-juices everywhere between forehead and chin.

"Sexy babe," said Blaze.

"It is isn't it?" said Taylor and giggled. "She does everything I say. Watch: Toy, lick my ass." Taylor rolled forward until her asshole hung over K.T.'s lips. "Lick it!"

Lick ass? K.T. shuddered with horror at the prospect and kicked her legs in an attempt to wriggle free; it did no good. She'd sucked cock, been fucked in her pussy, ass and mouth, licked cunt and performed innumerable other horrific things, but never this.

"None of that!" snapped Taylor. She reached forward and slapped K.T.'s left tit.

The strike wasn't hard but the shock of the act broke K.T.'s resistance and, even as she wanted to vomit, she stuck out her tongue and licked around Taylor's puckered ass. It tasted of sweat and felt strangely textured.

"God, she's doing it!" crowed Taylor and let out a long moan. She started to finger her cunt as she spoke, which made wet sex noises. "Fuck the toy now, Blaze. Fuck her while she rims me."

Rough powerful hands grabbed K.T.'s legs and wrestled with her pants. A roll of terror ran down K.T.'s spine. Blaze was stripping her, stripping her so he could fuck her. In agreeing to the threesome, she knew it would come to this but that didn't make the prospect any less horrifying.

Giving up, Blaze yanked hard and the topmost button snapped off with a twang and went flying away. With that done, he dragged the pants down K.T.'s kicking, flailing legs and threw them away. Cold air ran along K.T.'s skin. Blaze took hold of her boxers next and pulled. The fabric tore and then K.T. was completely naked. His large fingers went to her pussy and slipped inside. With hard pistoning motions he finger fucked her. Playing with Taylor meant K.T. was wet but that only partly blunted the pain of the intrusion.

"Feel that toy?" giggle Taylor. "He's inside you now. Blaze has his big fat fingers inside your teeny tiny cunt. And there's more to come. Blaze, fuck her properly now, and toy, keep licking."

As K.T. continued rimming Taylor's ass, Blaze freed his cock and positioned it against K.T.'s pussy. K.T. could feel the head pressing against her. She barely had time to consider the coming invasion before he pushed inside.

"You're fucking her," moaned Taylor. "Really fucking her." She dropped forward so her hungry eyes were a bare inch above K.T.'s cunt. From that miniscule distance, she ate up the sight. Blaze's cock push slowly into K.T., stretching her lips white and bruising her depths. Tears squeezed from K.T.'s eyes.

Taylor lowered her hand onto K.T.'s mons almost reverently. "I can feel it!" She looked up, eyes wide. "I can feel your cock!"

Blaze grunted and pushed further in. He only stopped when his balls slapped against K.T.'s ass. At that depth, K.T. felt ready to burst apart. Blaze's cock stretched and tore at her. It filled her young fourteen year old cunt passed the point of bursting.

"How deep are you?" said Taylor, voice filled with wonder. "How deep is he, toy?" She touched K.T.'s cunt and traced a path up her mons and over her stomach. "God, how can it fit?"

"Tight," muttered Blaze. He jerked his hips back and K.T.'s cunt held him so securely he pulled her body back several inches too. K.T. let out a pathetic little moan. It felt like the cock had broken her.

As Taylor watched with eyes wide with excitement, drugs and drink, Blaze battered in and out of K.T. His ass clenched with each thrust and sweat dropped down his bare sculpted chest. Each thrust was a stab of pain for K.T., each a new invasion and debasement.

"Almost there," panted Blaze. He was breathing hard, orgasm close. "Almost. Where should I..."

"Sperm the bitch," cried Taylor. "Oh god, oh god." She twisted, dove down and kissed K.T. hard on her cunt smeared lips. "Isn't this fantastic! He's going to cum, toy. Can you feel him? He's going to fill you up with cum any second!"

Blaze let loose a gurgling grunt, he fucked deep one final time and boiling hot cum shot into K.T. It soiled her sex and polluted her womb. K.T. cried softly as he spurted away.

When Blaze finished, Taylor pushed Blaze's chest. "Out, out," she said and all but shoved Blaze away. When his cock pulled free with a wet pop, Taylor dove to replace it. Blonde girl-dreads flying, she attacked K.T.'s pussy like a woman possessed. Her tongue pushed in deep as she lapped up cum and fuck juices both. She bit and nipped at K.T.'s lips. She sucked at K.T.'s clit.

So soon after the pain of her rape, the pleasure of this attack knocked K.T. a strange kilter. Lightning leaped up her spine even as pain still sickened her bones. She sobbed as the pleasure built. She cried as Taylor coaxed a deep unwanted delight from her still aching pussy. She balled as she peaked and, body bucking, she squirted girl cum into Taylor's face.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," moaned Taylor, falling back. Her fingers plundered her pussy. They pumped in and out, in and out, and already a small cum shook her. Blaze bent low over her body and started sucking on her pierced nipples. And then they were fucking. They rocked together as Blaze's cock fucked in and out of Taylor's twitching sex.

It took longer for Blaze to cum this time, and while Taylor and Blaze rutted like dogs in heat, K.T lay like a corpse on the bed. Of course when he did cum — gushing his sperm deep inside Taylor — K.T. had to clean up. With Blaze's hand on the back of her neck, she knelt between Taylor's legs and licked as the sperm slowly oozed out in a gooy white stream. Taylor seemed satisfied with the gentle ministrations and just lay back in a fuck-drunk boneless puddle. For once the euphoric mania left her drug-addled eyes.

They drank more lager after that and even K.T. forced the disgusting liquid between her lips. Anything to blunt the crushing weight of the world. They fucked more too. Blaze forced his cock up K.T.'s ass as she cried and Taylor ate K.T. out. Once more she cried as she came, and Blaze spurted his seed deep in her ass. After, Taylor held her head as she licked him clean; just the smell made her want to vomit.

Drink, drugs and sex finally took their toll on Blaze, who slumped down in the bed. Taylor was less easily sated.

"I'm going to fist you, toy." She did. "Roll over, you need spanked." K.T. complied and soon her ass glowed red with pain. "Lick me, toy. Fucking lick me." Again Taylor's sweet cum filled K.T.'s mouth. A perverted putrid pleasure ran through K.T. as she performed the disgusting acts. Taylor might bring her a pleasure no man ever could but her actions made of it a sick painful pleasure filled with self-hate.

For Taylor, each sexual act was a new high to master, and she did it all with a wide eyed manic passion. It was a lust so hot it burned all that touched her. After the second time Taylor made K.T. eat out her ass, K.T. could barely look at her once-friend any more. More sex followed, of every kind Taylor could think.

Finally Blaze had enough. "Leave her alone, babe, and come to bed." He patted the mattress next to him.

Taylor huffed. "Fine," she said and rolled off K.T. Only then did K.T. take a gasping breath. Her face was purple with asphyxiation and covered with cunt juice. Taylor had decided that 'breathe when I cum' might make a good motivational tool.

"There is one thing, though," she continued. "Our little toy here has earned some money."

"Just take it from my wallet."

The room was a mess of discarded clothes and tangled sheets, but Taylor found Blaze's backpack under the bed and fished around until she found Blaze's wallet. It bulged with money. She split the bill fold and counted out two hundred and fifty dollars, mostly in twenty dollar notes.

Just the sight of her reward brought a renewed fire to K.T. Two hundred and fifty dollars, a near impossible amount of money for a teenager and worth almost a full pound of silver. Already she could feel the weight of the world lessening over her head. She reached out for the bills but Taylor snatched them back.

Taylor's eyes were wide and wild with drink and drugs and the last sexual thrill of the night. "You earned this with your cunt, toy, so I think you should get paid with it. Lean back and spread your legs."

Crying softly, K.T. did as bid. The position split her pussy lips and the air was cold against her bruised pink depths. A trickle of white sperm oozed out and down her butt.

"Say please," said Taylor.

"Please," moaned K.T. as tears ran down her face. They joined the cunt, cum and assorted other sex juices staining the bed.

Taylor took the first note, rolled it into a ball and stuffed it into K.T.'s cunt. The once-crisp bill was oddly hard and the edges cut. K.T. moaned and whimpered in pain, but with silver so close she couldn't turn away.

"Say thank you."

"Thank—" K.T. scrunched her eyes shut. The path and the promise of silver pulled her on. "Thank you."

They repeated the ritual for each bill in the pile. Only once she was fully paid (and bulging painfully) was K.T. allowed to collect her clothes and leave.

Taylor stayed away from K.T. after that night; she knew she'd gone too far.

It was for the best, just thinking of Taylor brought forth savage specters of haunting memory. Although she kept her skateboard with her, K.T. didn't skate much after that either. It brought up painful memories too.

After K.T. delivered the fifth batch of silver wafers, Achillbeg ordered her to procure copper.

That proved easier and cheaper than silver.

The copper came from two sources. First, she raided her pockets for all the pennies she could find. That produced a small pile but she knew it wouldn't be enough. Prostitution paid well but it didn't pay in copper coinage. To make up the bulk, she found a New Age medicine shop at the Mall and laid down a small pile of twenty dollar notes for as many copper bracelets as she could carry.

The idiotic hippie woman tried to sell her on the healing benefits of the metal but K.T. just stared her down until she took the money and handed over the receipt.

Achillbeg was pleased and gave her the sky. For a few hours she felt human once more but it was never enough. Never enough.

Weeks passed. K.T. undertook more engagements and used the proceedings to buy yet more silver.

To pay for her sixth load of silver, K.T. undertook a particularly brutal pair of dates. Apparently word of a girl who'd do anything had spread and some of her clients even came from out of state.

The first had her hogtied on an old ratty carpet by a married couple. The man throat fucked her while his wife filmed and masturbated, fingers crammed up her cunt. Then they switched. The wife forced a large black strap-on down K.T.'s throat while the husband jabbed the open end of a vodka bottle up her ass and let the burning liquid drain. It wasn't long before K.T. was blind drunk.

She laughed and screamed and babbled impossible things. The husband fucked her ass while the wife smacked her tits.

"He needs silver!" shouted K.T. "Silver, silver, silver. Silver for his revenge." She giggled and screamed and giggled and screamed.

The next engagement happened two days later, just enough time for K.T. to recover from the worst of the damage dealt her.

"You'll be his pain toy," said Min as she did K.T.'s makeup. When Min was out the room, K.T. grabbed the lipstick and turned to the mirror. She spat at there own face and drew a leering clown's grimace. "Smile. Smile. Smile." She made the grimace wider. "Smile. Smile. Smile." She made her wider still, until much of her face was colored red. "Smile. Smile. Smile." She started to cry.

When Min returned a red pallor flashed across her face and she slapped K.T. hard, once on the left cheek and then again with the back hand on the right. Then she set to repairing the damage.

K.T. met this client in a soundproofed basement on a suburban family street. She was blindfolded, gagged with a ball that hurt her jaw and tied to a post. And then the pain began.

The whip struck out and slashed her flesh. Again and again. Different instruments. Floggers, paddles, and canes, each left their mark.

Unseen hands removed the gag. K.T. worked her aching jaw. Her lips hurt too, dry and cracked. "Hit me," she said when at last she could speak. "Hit me harder." She deserved the pain. She was a whore and whores weren't meant to be in control. They are meant to suffer.

"I'm going to punch you now," he said and K.T. nodded. His fist drove hard into her stomach. "Say thank you."

K.T. couldn't breathe but her lips formed the words. "Thank you." A little vomit dribbled out of her mouth.

He did it again. This time she vomited properly.

Those engagements paid well and K.T. bought a pile of silver wafers with the proceedings. However, when she stood before Achillbeg, not even the thought of the sky could drag her from the fetid pit of the world's hypocrisy, suffering and pain.

"Please," she said as she fell to her knees. Tears fell from her eyes and dropped like miniature comets to the otherworldly floor of the white room. "Please, just let it stop. Please just make it stop. I want to go home. I want my parents. I want—"

She didn't get to finish. Achillbeg swept forward on feet the sounded like ringing chines and sunk most of his hand into K.T.'s head.

The sky was different than before. Rather than cleansing, it cut away. It cut away her weakness and suffering. It cut away her pain. It cut away her memories.

When K.T. came to, twitching on the ground, there were holes in her memories. "I," she said and touched her lips. "I can't remember. Please, why can't I remember?" She tried to remember her parents faces and failed. She tried to remember their names and failed. She tried to remember where she lived and failed. All she had left was her skateboard and that was haunted by ghosts all its own. Despite that, she clutched it to her chest as she cried.

Life became harder after that. With no home, K.T. had no.where to live. Some nights she slept in the white room, curled up in her hoodie for warmth as Achillbeg worked endlessly too forge threads from silver and copper and arrange them in place. Some nights she slept at Min and Kasia's. They didn't like having her there but before visiting a client they wanted her clean, sane and fed. Some nights she slept with her customers. A soft bed was hard to turn down, even after a brutal rape.

The seventh load of silver brought a change. Achillbeg took the wafers and pointed to the center of the room. "You will stand at the focus of the threads."

Threads of silver and copper criss-crossed the room like the web of a nightmare spider. Slowly and carefully, K.T. picked her way to the center.

The threads surrounded her and in their interactions she could see half-seen shapes. Energy rolled along the threads, like lightning in the maw of a great storm.

"This is a place where miracles are possible," said Achillbeg. His crystalline body shone in the strange everywhere-light of the room. "And from those miracles will I make my revenge."

He cupped his hands and light gathered there. It jerked and twitched, as if tortured and trapped. Achillbeg pressed his hands to K.T.'s stomach and forced the light into her womb.

A tingling wave washed through K.T. She gasped and almost fell as her knees wavered. Something was different. She didn't know what, but Achillbeg had worked a great change.

"You are pregnant," he said. "I have taken what quickened in your womb and made it mine. My child will grow inside you until it is ready to fulfill my purpose."

K.T. touched her stomach with her finger tips, lips partly open. A baby. What could that mean?

More sex came, some soft and gentle, mostly hard brutal fuckings. One client bent her double and stuffed her into a small metal box. There was one small hole, at mouth level, and over the course of the evening anonymous men stuffed their cocks through the hole for her to suck. That was a good day. She got to sleep in a soft bed and eat a real meal after she was done. She went to sleep cradling her stomach and thinking of her growing child. It was an anchor to life and sanity, her last since Achillbeg seared away her other memories.

Another client wanted her to suck off his dog. She did it too, with tears in her eyes and body shaking with the perversion of the act. That wasn't a good day. She threw up her last meal and had to sleep on the street, only her hoodie for warmth.

Others were still worse. K.T. had a return customer in her pain toy loving suburbanite hypocrite. This time she didn't beg for her abuse. She could not. Instead she cradled and covered her stomach as the whips and blows rained down. Each strike that hit was a dagger of pain that sunk into her flesh and soul, and in her worst fears she saw each sinking into her unborn baby too.

Her abuser caught her chin with a finger and raised her head until their eyes met. His were dark and only just visible behind his leather mask. "Beg for the whip," he said. His voice was oddly high and squeaky, perhaps not by any objective measure but certainly in comparison to his imposing size and sadist's costume.

K.T. shook her head. The weight of the world crushed down on her, making her dizzy and sick, but she could not beg to be hit. Not any more. Not now she had a child. She shook in her chains, so forcefully that the links rattled and clanked. "Please," she moaned.

"Beg!" he screamed and the whip cut a burning bar of fire across her back.

"Please!" she screamed again but it was a plea for release not torture. That was clear from her pain filled blue eyes.

He beat her for that, long and hard and then threw her away. On the van ride back to Min and Kasia's flat, K.T. lay in the fetal position and cradled her stomach. Her baby soothed her pains and fears. Slowly the crushing weight of the world lessened as she returned to the path of silver, copper and the light of the star Arcturus.

Sex bought silver and each depraved act brought her nearer her goal. She delivered the eighth load to Achillbeg and then the ninth and then finally the tenth.

K.T. gasped as Achillbeg withdrew his long crystalline finger from her skull. The sky fell away and the fetid tendrils of the world were their to meet her. They groped across her body. But for a little while it was bearable. She touched her stomach and felt the light of the child that grew in her womb. That helped too.

She'd just delivered her tenth and last load of silver. Almost over now. Almost over.

The silence of the room was near deafening. Slowly, lifting the weight of ages, she looked up into Achillbeg's cold inhuman eyes. From behind multi-faceted crystals, he looked back.

"My revenge requires silver, copper and the light of the star Arcturus," he said in a voice of sounding chimes. "You have provided me the copper and silver I require. You must now turn your attention to the final ingredient."

Behind him stretched the strange white room. It was filled with glittering silver and copper threads. Some formed intricate geometric webs, patterns within patterns and shapes within shapes. Others created almost ghostly pillars. Now they were nearing completion, they ran with a queer energy that prickled at K.T.'s skin and rang against her teeth. The sensation was far stronger than that she felt when Achillbeg had given her the child in her womb. Achillbeg had once named the white room a place where miracles were possible. K.T. wasn't sure about that but it was certainly a place where curses might be laid.

"How?" asked K.T. The weight of the world pushed her and the path shoved her but she didn't know how to obey. "How do I gather star light?"

In the white room there were no shadows and the light reflected strangely off Achillbeg's face as he turned his head in consideration. Finally, he said, "There are ways to gather the light of stars, even for one such as you. The degenerate matter of this world cannot capture such an ephemeral power, but there are ways to remake matter and they exist on this world. Even from on high, I could hear the cosmic songs of your machines as they destroyed matter that it may be reborn anew. I believe you call them particle accelerators. Do you have access to such a devise?"

K.T. shook her head.

"It is unfortunate," said Achillbeg. "We must do this the hard way. Hold out your hands."

Shaking, K.T. did as bid. Achillbeg took her hands in his. They were hard as crystal and the white light that leaked from between shards was a cold light, a harsh light. With almost ritual grace, he shifted her fingers into a complex interlocking pattern. He pressed up from below and her palms cupped together to create a cave, with only a small hole at the top.

Looking in, K.T. saw a spark of light. It grew slowly as she watched, like a tiny firefly.

"This is harder," said K.T., voice touched with wonder?

"If you knew what you did, you would not ask that question."

Achillbeg ran K.T. through making and releasing the cave several times until she could do it at will.

When she could, he pointed to the door. "You must go far from this place of humans, lights and buildings. Arcturus must shine bright and pure if you are to capture its light. Find the constellation known to men as the big dipper. Follow its arc until you find a bright star. Capture its light using the art I have taught you and bring it back to me."

K.T. wavered in place.

"Go!"

A month ago, getting out the city would have been a lot of work, but K.T. had money now, Most went on silver but there was enough left for other things. It was late evening and the sky was cast a chemical purple.

Board slung under her arm, she hiked to the nearest payphone and flipped through the collection of business cards in their little holder under the handset. She found the number for a taxi services and ordered a ride.

The taxi rumbled through the city. Above, the sky turned from chemical purple to the black of a poisoned soul. She spied the buildings of the city center out the window. They passed the mall — the place she'd first sold herself for silver. They passed the Empire Hotel, the place she'd finally became a whore. They passed through suburban houses. Was one hers? K.T. could no longer remember.

The taxi wound its way slowly out of the city and began climbing the nearby hills. High above, stars started to appear as they slipped the cloak of the city's light.

K.T. felt her heart beat fast and felt the building anticipation of the ending of her quest. They were near alone on the road. Only occasionally did another car pass, its headlights fiery spears.

It was nearly over. Everything was nearly over. She touched her stomach and felt the life inside her. Almost over.

The taxi reached an abandoned car park high in the hills. The driver required a blowjob in order to wait for her, but K.T. scarcely cared at this point. The city's life's shone in the distance, a scattering of child's toys, but looking in the opposite direction K.T. could see a sea of stars.

She cast about until she found the big dipper and then followed its arc until she found Arcturus. It blazed like a pure diamond and K.T. felt soiled under its glare.

Slowly, with numb trembling fingers, she made the cave and pointed the opening at the star. She felt more than saw the light start to gather. It tingled within her hands, like trapped fire, and a white glow seeped from between her fingers. There was a pressure, too. The light pushed at her, as if trying to break free.

When her fingers felt ready to break, she stopped and closed the cave. She clutched the gathered light to her chest as she climbed back into the taxi. It pulsed in time with her heart.

"Back to the city," she said. The taxi reversed out of the gravel covered car park and began the drive back to the city.

It wasn't a long drive but it felt that way to K.T. The taxi rumbled as it traveled along the road. Each mile built the tension in her chest and cupped between her hands.

The taxi moved into the city proper and the lights of buildings flashed by.

"Here," said K.T. as the taxi approached the abandoned factory Achillbeg had taken as his home.

The taxi pulled over, and K.T clambered out, careful to keep the starlight trapped in her hands. Retrieving her skateboard from the seat was a challenge but she managed to wedge it under one elbow.

Thus balanced, K.T. picked her way down the alley between the abandoned factories and to the white room. Each step brought her closer to the end. She could feel it just ahead. Achillbeg would have his revenge and she would be free of her pain once and for all.

Achillbeg waited for her in the white room. Soft white light leaked from the gaps in his crystal body. He stood in the center of his web of metal threads.

"Come to me," he said. K.T. let her skateboard fall to the ground and, hands cupped tight, made her way to join Achillbeg.

"My revenge is at hand," he said. He covered K.T.'s hands with his own and she felt the starlight fade away. "With this I shall make my vengeance. I will strike back against those who betrayed me and cast me down. With this final ingredient, I will remake myself. I will be reborn among the elect of this world. I will gain the trust of my enemies and from within tear them asunder. My wrath will shake the heavens and be remembered eons hence."

Achillbeg separated and raised his hands. The light of the star Arcturus ran from him in burning ribbons and energized the copper and silver web. The strands crackled and buzzed. Potency filled the room.

K.T. shook where she stood. Achillbeg might wear a human body but there was nothing human about him right then.

"And you," he continued, "will make it possible. While I remained trapped here, you sought out those things I required. And you have one more part to play. When my enemies cast me down, only the least sliver of what I once was escaped, but even this body is too much. If I left this place of miracles, I would be nothing but dust in the wind.

"I must reduce myself still further. Using what I have built, I will focus and transfer my essence into you. I will take the child. I will eat and become it. And when you give birth in nine months time, I will have a true body once more, fit for my vengeance."

"My child," whispered K.T. and touched her stomach. Horror flared through her skin at the touch.

"It is a tool to be put to use. Can you feel it? The transfer has begun."

K.T. could feel it. The power in the threads lashed her senses. It battered and screamed at her. But through it all the light of her child shone. Her child. Not Achillbeg's. Hers, hers, hers.

"Please," she said. She backed up a step and felt silver wires at her back. "Another way. Not the child. Not my baby."

"Do not defy me now," said Achillbeg. The many crystals of his body shimmered and he was great and terrible then. "Submit!"

The word was a command. The weight of the world slammed onto her shoulders. The path screamed at her. Everything the was wrong and painful and hypocritical with life surged into her. K.T. felt screening to her knees, fingers tearing at her face.

"Submit!" cried Achillbeg. His single word beat against K.T. like a note from a crystal church bell.

But she didn't submit. She couldn't. Even against the weight of the world she resisted. It was the baby — her baby — and it changed everything. The baby was light in the dark. It was the shield from her abuse. It was something to live for.

"No!" she screamed. "You can't have him!"

"Your consent is not required," said Achillbeg, "only your correct action."

Lightning crackled down the threads of silver and copper. Strange dark shadows danced against the white walls of the white room. Normally no shadows were cast in the white room but these shadows were not of normal things.

Achillbeg grabbed for K.T. but she threw herself back. She rolled under the threads and tried to dash for the door. Each step was a step that required lifting the weight of the world but she did it somehow.

And then Achillbeg was on her. He grabbed her shoulder and threw her to the ground. She hit hard and rolled.

"Submit!" he shouted and once more the path screamed at K.T. She held on somehow, if only by the skin of her teeth.

The gathering power in the room swirled around Achillbeg and K.T. It lashed and caressed them. It threatened to unmake their atoms and give them pleasure unknown to mortal kind. It threatened to condense Achillbeg down that he might possess K.T.'s baby and that could not be allowed to happen.

Achillbeg advanced through it all, a monster and demon out of nightmare. K.T. scrabbled for a weapon, any weapon, and her fingers caught the edge of her skateboard.

Without thinking she swung. The board slammed through the air and smashed into Achillbeg's face. A wheel flew from the board but the damage to Achillbeg was worse still.

The crystals that made his face fell away to reveals the white phosphorous fire that burnt within. It raged with cold fury and flared up, surrounding Achillbeg with a burning nimbus.

K.T. screamed and swung her board again. This time Achillbeg's shoulder shattered. Razor sharp crystal shards filled the air. They cut at K.T.'s arms, hands and face.

Somehow Achillbeg kept moving forward.

"Submit," he said but the word came out wrong, warped.

K.T. gathered all her strength and she felt the strength of her baby fill her too. With one final swing, she shattered Achillbeg and board both. All that remained in her hands was splintered wood.

The white fire that filled Achillbeg exploded. The silver and copper melted and burned. Black smoke whirled around the room, trapped in an invisible vortex. The walls groaned and cracked. Beyond was a twisting nether space, wrong and evil.

Choking and near blind, K.T. made for the door. She stumbled and tripped. With hands dripping blood she forced herself to move forward.

The door... The door was just ahead. She just had to keep moving. Heat and howling noise filled the world as she crawled towards it. Almost. Just a little further.

She reached for it and just managed to touch the door with a bloody fingertip. It fell open. Cold night air rushed into the room and that provided just enough energy for K.T. to make the final push.

She surged to her feet and ran out the door into the alley beyond. Behind her the white room twisted as it burnt. As she watched with tear filled eyes, it folded in on itself and disappeared.

K.T. fell to the ground one final time. The weight of the world pushed down on her, awful and terrible. She had no home to go to and no memory of her parents to guide her. All that remained was her baby but that would be enough. It would be enough because it had to be.

In the alley, surrounded by garbage and filth, she cried herself to sleep. Her hands held the last shattered fragment of her skateboard cradled against her stomach. Inside, a future member of the elect slowly grew. It might not have Achillbeg's concentrated essence but it would be mighty all the same.

Babies, they change everything, sometimes even the world.

*Image courtesy of Danaume Rook and Mister X*

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Skater Girl

by JumpingHotdog

mc; drug; Mf; mf; ff; Mdom; Fdom; oral; anal; bond; alien; best; viol; caution

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