Chapter 4

Cathy had lost track of the number of men who had had her. She had come to accept things, and had grown accustomed enough to her new status that she didn't even mind going to bed with strange men any more. At least, she didn't mind it much.

But this new thing was another matter. This thing he wanted her to do now wasn't just a sin. It was evil, really evil. But she had given up kidding herself a long time ago. She would do whatever he told her to do. She had balked just once, and he had let her go through a couple of hours of withdrawal before giving her a fix. Cathy knew she didn't ever want to go through that again. At least not until she was ready to kick the habit once and for all.

Angela was sitting next to her on the bus, looking a little apprehensive, but she had been going to Bart's place quite a while now for joints. This was different, but Angela didn't know just how different it was.

"Oh, hell, it's nothing," Cathy had told her several days before. "I take the stuff when I want a little lift, and I do without it when I want to."

"But isn't it addicting?" Angela asked. "That's a lot of nonsense the Establishment feeds us to keep us from doing something they think we shouldn't. Sure you get addicted. So when you decide to kick it you get a headache and a little nausea, and then it's all over."

There was a lot more of that, stuff Bart had fed Cathy to feed in turn to Angela. And Angela had fallen for it with alarming ease. Of course, she trusted Cathy. That made Cathy's conscience hurt, but there just wasn't anything she could do about that. She would need a fix soon, and Bart had promised her one on the house if she could talk Angela into taking one with her.

They got off the bus three blocks from Bart's apartment and walked the rest of the way. It was a safety precaution. Bart had told her not to get on or off the bus at the same place too often when going to or coming from his place.

They used the stairs, of course, as always. It was better than taking a chance on being seen by someone in the elevator. The management of the place was strictly live-and-let-live, but you could never tell about other tenants.

They were puffing by the time they reached his floor. Cathy led the way, though by this time Angela knew where Bart's apartment was. She knocked on the door and waited, her heart in her throat. This was the first time she had ever deliberately set out to get someone hooked. It was evil, she knew. Her conscience was gnawing at her, and she needed a fix.

Bart had been waiting with some impatience. They were a little late, and he was beginning to wonder if Angela had gotten cold feet. Or perhaps Cathy herself.'He was worried about her lately. She was showing signs of a conscience.

But then the rap on the door came, and he relaxed. Everything was ready for them. The two needles and the bottle of alcohol lay on their white towel, looking neat and sanitary so that Angela wouldn't get scared. He walked to the door and opened it.

They were looking a little apprehensive, both of them, and he could see Cathy was about ready for a fix. She was carrying a fifty-dollar monkey now, and she was in debt to him for several thousand dollars. She needed the fix every day, and he didn't use her services as often, and when he did she wasn't paid that much. So the tab continued to grow.

He could see her conscience was already bothering her, too, and he decided to give her a fix right away, to keep her from making some kind of a fuss and scaring Angela.

"Come on in, dolls," he said. They walked into the living room, and their eyes fell on the needles right away. Angela looked a little scared at the sight, but Cathy looked at the needles the way a hungry baby would look at its mother's tit.

"Hi, Bart." Cathy was making an effort to seem cheerful and casual. It was part of the act, and something he had coached her to do. The friendlier they seemed the more calming it would be to Angela.

"Hi, chicken," he said, and kissed her lightly. She smiled brightly at him. A little too brightly. The fix would have to come soon or she would start to show ugly symptoms, and that wasn't what they needed for little Angela's peace of mind.

"You ready for some grass girls, or do you want to go right in on the big stuff?"

"Gee, I-" Angela said, looking a little frightened now that the moment was at hand. Cathy interrupted her smoothly.

"We've been talking about it, honey, and we want to go right for the horse this time."

"You finally decided to get in on the fun, eh?"

Bart asked Angela, injecting the right amount of friendly admiration into his voice. It was like offering congratulations on the wisdom of her decision.

"I guess so," she said. Bart smiled reassuringly and led the girls to the two chairs bracketing the table that held the hypos. They sat down, Cathy looking eager and Angela still a little scared.

While he was swabbing Cathy's arm with alcohol, Bart again looked Angela over. She was tiny like Cathy, but there the resemblance between the two friends ended. Whereas Cathy was light skinned and blonde, Angela was dark complexioned, with hair that shone like wet ebony. She was a beautiful girl, and he had the personal knowledge gained from her while she was high on grass that she was no virgin. Bart had refrained from taking advantage of her while she was on pot because he was afraid she might get to feeling guilty about it later and not come back. But after today....

He inserted the needle in Cathy's arm and pushed the plunger. She began to relax right away, and a dreamy, happy look came over her face. He could feel her body go soft and supple while he was still pushing the plunger.

The sight seemed to reassure Angela a bit. She could see that the shot had made Cathy relax, had made her feel good. While she was still riding the crest of confidence, Bart swabbed her arm and picked up the needle. She stiffened a bit, and he could feel her tug away. He let go of her arm. Force wasn't what he wanted. He wanted her to take the shot of her own free will, or at least to think she was doing so.

"Don't be scared," Cathy said with a giggle. "It isn't going to hurt. You'll sshh ... see," she said slurring her sounds a little. Angela bit her lip and held her arm out to Bart. He didn't waste a moment. The arm was swabbed in two seconds, and he had the needle poised over the spot. Angela winced a bit as the steel pricked her skin, then sat very still while he finished the injection.

It wasn't as big a shot as he had given to Cathy, of course. That would have killed Angela, who hadn't built up a tolerance for the junk yet. But it was as massive a dose he could give her without knocking her out. He had been watching her for the past few weeks, and the way she had taken to the grass convinced him she would be a natural addict. He was ready to bet in her case this one good shot would be enough to hook her.

She began to relax at once. Her lids grew heavy, and she leaned her head back against the chair and smiled dreamily. "There you go," Bart said, putting the needle down again. "There you is, sister. That was a good one, huh?" He prattled on in the crazy, nonsense talk all junkies seemed to like, and the two girls sat there smiling up at him happily. Cathy giggled suddenly, and Angela followed suit. Bart walked around the room aimlessly a couple of times, letting the fix soak into Angela's system. Finally, he sat down on the arm of the Chair. She looked up at him distantly, with that vacant smile he had come to know so well. Bart laid his hand on one of her cheeks and leaned down. He kissed her on the mouth, and she didn't even react. When he broke off she giggled happily, as though they had done something slightly naughty together. The fix was still taking hold, making her less conscious of what was going on, and making her care less what she did, or what was done to her. He kissed her again, tasting her tongue this time. She had a sweet mouth, just as he had expected. He waited a moment after the kiss and then laid a hand on her knee. She had closed her eyes, and she didn't even bother to open them at the touch of Bart's hand. He wondered whether she even felt it. He gave it the test by sliding his hand upward along her thigh, feeling the soft, warm flesh there. Angela opened her eyes and looked up at him with a vague look on her face. Bart kissed her again. She raised a tiny hand listlessly and moved her fingertips over his cheek. She seemed to be enjoying the sex play in a passionless way. The heroin had dulled her conscience, of course. She had told him that she had let one boy lay her once, and that was all. But her inhibitions had been weakened now to the point of nonexistence. Bart felt the heat of sudden excitement in him at the thought of her helplessness. She was any man's woman right now. And he happened to be the man.

"Wouldn't you like to be comfortable?" he asked, petting her thigh lightly.

"I'm comf'ble," she murmured fuzzily.

"Sure, honey, I know. But you'll be a lot more comfy in the bedroom, lying down, won't you?"

"I don-What-?" She worked her mouth a couple of times more, but nothing came out. Then she giggled.

"I know what he wants to do," Cathy said in playful sing-song, and Bart gave her a sharp look. It penetrated her fog just enough to make her draw back. "He just wants to make you comfortable because you're the new one," she said a little lamely. "He hasn't cared that much about my comfort in a long time."

"Heck, Cathy, you know I'm nuts about you," Bart said. She giggled. He slid his arms under Angela's thighs and back and picked her up. She was amazingly light. He carried her into the bedroom quickly, feeling a touch of moisture gathering on the tip of his cock.

The bed seemed to beckon to him through the darkness. Bart carried her to it and laid her down softly. She made a little sound of contentment as she came to rest on the bed, and he could see her eyes glistening in the darkness.

She was wearing a miniskirt and blouse, and the blouse buttoned up the front. Bart began to pry open the buttons. She raised a hand to stop him once, but he pushed the hand aside impatiently and she didn't try to stop him again.

Angela was really floating high on the heroin now, and anxious to please. Bart opened the blouse in a leisurely fashion, enjoying himself all the time. He opened it down to her skirt and then pulled it out of the waistband and opened the last button. Angela lay there looking up at him with a kind of shy smile that still had the vacant look of an addict on a nice cushion of horse. The blouse was open all the way down now, and he slipped his hand inside, brushing one side of the garment out of the way, and cupped one breast, feeling the warmth of it through the thin bra she was wearing. He let the hand slide down over her skin, down over her ribs to the waistband of her skirt. The other side of the blouse fell away as she moved convulsively, a mild reaction to his touch. Then he found the button at the top of her skirt, and he deftly opened it. The skirt pulled open at the top of the zipper, and he began to inch the zipper down. Bending low over her, he kissed her, driving his tongue deep and tasting the fine sweetness of her mouth. She murmured softly, and her tiny hand moved over his arm lightly.

The zipper was down. Bart pulled the skirt down, slipping the waistband past her hips, then moving down to the foot of the bed and pulling it all the way off.

She was wearing nothing now except her shoes and socks and a pair of thin white panties that matched her bra. The blouse was still clinging to her shoulders. Bart tugged off the loafers and her socks, then moved back up beside her. He kissed her again, and she seemed to like it in a soft, vague way. He was working loose the buttons of his shirt, preparing himself for what was to come. This was a hell of a nice little bundle, just as nice as Cathy. And she was strange stuff. He had become accustomed to Cathy in the past few months. When he had his shirt off, he moved his hands to her shoulders and brushed back the blouse. Lifting the upper part of her body, he got rid of the blouse altogether and tossed it to the floor. He could smell her hair and her skin close to his face, and it was intoxicating. He took a moment to unbuckle his belt and drop his pants. He was kneeling beside the bed, and the pants bunched up around his knees. He stood up and got rid of them, kicking off his shoes impatiently. Angela looked up at him and giggled, amused by his impatience. He grinned down at her and knelt again. She returned his kiss, this time with some fire, the passion penetrating the fog of dope she was in.

While they were kissing, Bart worked his hands under her and began to wrestle with the bra she was wearing. He finally managed to get the hooks open without tearing or breaking anything, and the bra slid away from the thrust of her young breasts.

She was smooth and soft and warm, her breasts nice and bulbous. He stroked them lightly, and felt an answering thrill from her. It wasn't the kind of excitement he might have gotten from a partner who wasn't drugged, but it was something, and Bart was beyond caring right then. He kissed her breasts lightly, then locked his mouth onto one tit and licked and sucked it until she began to warm up a little.

She was only wearing her panties now, and he felt the heat of his excitement become almost unbearable at the thought of peeling them off. He slid one hand down to her waist, dipping his fingers under the elastic, and pushed the garment down a bit. He could feel, with his fingertips, the first wisps of pubic hair.

The touch of his hand there managed to penetrate her fog and bring a little convulsive movement, a thrill that passed over her tiny body. Bart slid his hand farther down inside of the panties and gave her snatch a little squeeze. He worked it, kneaded it, and began to get some real response from her. She was going to be a better lay then he had expected, despite the heavy jolt of junk he had given her.

He removed his, mouth from her tit and came upright, looking down at her. Her panties were down a little, not enough to reveal anything that wouldn't have been revealed by a bikini. Still, just the look of them, slightly askew, pushed down past their normal place, with the bulge of her pussy beginning to show, turned him on more than he already was.

He hooked his fingers in the elastic. Angela giggled again, with a little touch of guilt in the sound. She still looked and sounded as though she were sharing something not quite nice with him. Bart pulled the panties the rest of the way past her hips, revealing her cunt, and she giggled again.

The panties peeled the rest of the way down her thigh, and he tossed them off the foot of the bed. His cock was almost too hard now, painfully stiff, and he knew he had to get on with things. He rose and pulled off his T-shirt and dropped his shorts to the floor. His cock was standing out from his belly like a flag pole now, and the sight brought a whole fit of giggles from Angela.

"Ohhh," she said, and giggled some more.

Bart got onto the bed, scooting her over, and then he took her in his arms, delighting in the fine, healthy firmness of her body against him. She was still dreamy, but reasonably hot, and she was certainly cooperative.

He was as ready as he was going to get, and there was no sense in holding off any longer. He covered her body, and she spread her legs automatically. She had been fucked before, he thought. She knew how it was done. He took his cock in one hand and centered it on her slit, then pushed into her. She let out a little gasping sound. He drove the cock in to the root, and she made a little sound deep in her throat, a moan of pleasure. Bart felt his cock go even harder with the stimulation of entrance into her, and he began to move in, to push and pull, driving his cock through her loins slowly, with a soft, deep satisfaction. Her arms found their way around his neck, and she held to him, not tightly, not with a great, hot passion, but with a kind of gentleness that was exciting in itself.

His cock moved through her with increasing vigor, and he could feel the pleasure approaching its peak. Her legs moved fitfully as the pleasure in her increased. The movement sent a further shot of desire through Bart's body, and he made a quick gasping sound that brought an answer from Angela. Her arms tightened about his neck, dragging him closer. He delighted in the softness of her cheek against his neck. He rested a moment, not moving in her, but just enjoying the connection of their bodies. His cock throbbed inside her, pulsing with hardness, and he could feel her belly trembling in response. The pleasure was as intense as it could be without movement to spark it along. Just having a little beauty like this in his arms was enough to keep a man excited. Angela was prime, as fine a twat as a man was ever likely to run into, and better than most men had ever enjoyed.

"Uh ... uh ... ooohhh," she moaned softly. Her hands moved over the back of his neck with a pleasing, tickling sensation. She twisted a bit under him, and her breasts stroked his chest. He could feel her nipples, hard and erect. The feeling excited him more, drove him into movement, his hips rising and thrusting, driving his cock in and out of her body with sharp little jabs of pleasure. Angela let out a sharper cry than before. Her arms tightened all the more about him, and she raised her legs and wrapped them around his waist. He felt her thighs tighten about him, felt them lock there as her ankles crossed. The thought skidded across his mind that she had certainly let a boy screw her more than once. She knew too much about fucking to be just one fuck removed from virginity. But that was fine. That was well and good. If a girl wasn't a virgin, then extra experience was an advantage. It was an advantage because she would be less likely to blow up when she got right down to the nitty-gritty with a customer, and because she would be more likely to please her early customers.

The thought slipped away from him, together with all thought. The pleasure was growing to masterful proportions now, and he couldn't have kept thinking if he had wanted to. He drove his ass down hard, thrusting his cock all the way into her, and she let out a sudden cry of delight. Her own hips began to really work then. Up to that point her response had been very slight, but now her hips ground up against his, their bellies meshing. He could feel her skin heat up with passion, could feel the muscles in her tiny body contract. Her legs, tightly locked about him, began to pulse with a life of their own, tightening and loosening with steady, pulsing movements, dragging him into her and letting him go. Her mouth was next to his ear, and her cries were magnified. Then she was biting him, her teeth nipping into his neck and ear, and he could feel her nails dig into his skin. It was amazing to him how much the sex was getting to her through the fog of heroin.

Then it reached a quick peak. Bart felt the power of the orgasm all over his body, and he felt a shiver of delight pass over her body, too. It wasn't the best orgasm he'd ever had, but it was better than most.

Afterward, he lay beside her for a while, enjoying his release. It was the first time he'd been able to be near this little cunt and not have the hots for her. She lay there next to him, drowsy. From time to time he could hear her move a little, and when he looked at her he noticed that her eyes were open. But they were unfocused, almost glazed, and he knew she was on cloud nine.

Finally he got up and pulled on his shorts. He walked into the living room. At the door he looked back at Angela. Her eyes were finally closed, and he knew she had gone to sleep.

Cathy was still sitting there, waiting for him. She had the satisfied look of a junky right after a fix. "Good work," he said shortly.

"Is she-asleep, or-?"

"She's asleep. Did you arrange things?"

"Uh-huh. A friend of mine invited us over for the weekend. Angela's parents, and mine too, think that's where we are."

"Will the friend cover for you?"

"Sure."

"Okay. She's going to spend the weekend here with me. I'm going to keep her doped up until Sunday afternoon. I want her good and hooked before she leaves here." Cathy dropped her eyes at that, and he smiled. "Conscience, kid? Don't be stupid. If the situation were the other way around, she'd have done the same thing to you."

"I don't know...."

"Well, I'll prove it to you before too long. She's going to be bringing other girls here, just like you did with her. And she'll do it just as often as she can for a free ride."

"I-I guess so. Do you want me to stay here too?" She asked quickly, changing the subject.

"What the hell for?" He let the question hang, deliberately insulting, before going on. "I've got a job for you." He went to the desk in the corner and pulled open the center drawer to unlock the side ones. He pulled open the top right drawer, pushed the .38 Special out of the way, and took out the slip of paper. He checked to be certain he had the right one, then carried it over to her. She accepted it casually, looking at it and reading aloud.

"Mel Jackson, forty-four twenty-nine Peachtree Lane, Apartment four." She looked up at Bart again. "How long am I supposed to stay there?"

"Tonight, tomorrow, and Sunday till noon. It's all fixed up with the customer. He'll let you come back here tomorrow for your fix, and you can get another one on Sunday on the way home. You get your usual fee for this, fifty bucks a day, hall a day's pay for Sunday." She didn't look too happy about the half-day's pay, but she didn't object. It was by little devices like this that he kept getting her deeper and deeper into debt to him. The fifty bucks a day he charged her for the junk was really a mythical figure, just something to keep her enslaved. It didn't cost Kim anywhere near that much. Besides, he never expected to get any of it. He paid her exactly as much for fucking, and so the days when she didn't work, or couldn't work, insured an ever mounting indebtedness. Actually, she was earning him a lot more than fifty bucks a day. She knew that, of course, though she had no idea how much it was. That first day, with Towers, had been a real bonus. There were a few rich bastards like him around who were willing to go an exorbitant amount for a chance at a beautiful young cherry. But once that membrane had been torn, there was a sharp drop in a girl's earning power. She had gone for two grand that first time. Now she made two hundred a day, when she worked. Sometimes he was able to get more than that from a well-heeled John. Occasionally, some especially smitten fellow would go as much as five hundred bucks for her. So, with her period and the days when she couldn't get away from her parents all deducted, she made him an average of about a hundred and fifty bucks a day, week in and week out, minus what he paid for her junk. In addition, of course, he could fuck her himself whenever he wanted to. That was a very nice addition, but it was the money that counted the most with Bart. This was business. He had made thousands off this one girl already, and now he was going to have another in his stable. Another just as sharp-looking and better versed in the art of screwing than Cathy had been at first. That meant his income would soon double. And just as Cathy had brought Angela to him for a free ride, now he'd have two girls accounting for him. And every new girl they brought in would be another scout. In a couple of years if all went well he should be ready to retire. It was a great racket. If he didn't get careless.