Pimpology Novels & Stories

She’s petite, but she’s wearing super tall heels. Is she a prostitute? She can’t be. Right? I mean, she could be, but working out of a mechanic shop? That doesn’t make sense. Unless this place is a front for a brothel. Is this guy Dario a pimp? No, she calls him Poppa. Do prostitutes call their pimps Poppa? I look away when I realize I’m staring at the ass of a woman who called her boss her daddy. I don’t need him to kick me out before he helps me.

Between my legs, the pimp buries himself, groaning and sweating profusely, while slamming into me like a sl*t he paid for a night. The smelly thing, the bloody casanova, kisses me with renewed passion that makes me want to throw up on him. Every time his lips comes over my face, his breath reeks with a putrid stench. my guts twist, but my lips part voluntarily for him, moaning as they ravaged me from all corners. One gropes my breast. The other sucks hungrily from the other corner and minutes later, the pimp isn't halfway through to a climax.

They take a group of guys and fuck the women all weekend or longer, whatever it takes to make the girl a whore. One my friends, George, told me then it would take more than 6 guys. I have read about it and Pimps use big groups of men like 20 or more. I said Mom, leaves on Sunday morning so I am going to throw a party on Sunday evening. I will pretend it is only a guy party with lots of drinking so you guys bring as many guys as you can find. I will get her to go downstairs and get her in my bedroom. Jordan loves to fuck, so it won’t take me long to start banging her. She loves for me to fuck her real and hard and she starts screaming. When you hear her scream start with two guys coming in th

“You know damn well there are closeted clients out there. All you gotta do is make the option available. Give me one month. If I don’t bring in customers, I’ll leave.” He leaned back in his chair with an irritated sigh. “Kid—” “Please.” My voice cracked before I could stop it. “I’ve got bills to pay. You know my dad’s useless. I need this.” And I hated how desperate I sounded. I was practically on my knees begging this pot-bellied bastard who sat comfortably on piles of money made from other people’s desperation. Silver Slippers was the biggest sex house in town. Rich businessmen, street junkies, politicians, “faithful” husbands — anybody could walk through those doors as long as they could

Hours of torment-domination: face-sat till near-drowned in her squirt, belt-whipped tits bouncing red, forced to piss on command into bowl then lap edges clean (humiliation peak, clit spasming untouched). Final fuck marathon missionary piledrive on stained mattress, legs pretzeled, cock bullying cervix while fingers fisted ass alongside. Cum eruption painted insides white-hot, overflowing every thrust till she blacked mini, milking dry. Released wrecked-dripping, dawn creeping. Cycle eternal: good girl by light, Rico's dominated fucktoy by dark. Bruises faded makeup-veiled, but cravings etched permanent. Warehouse beaconed weekly, escalating gang bangs hinted next, his crew watching her craw

“Stop your nonsense. Why didn’t you think of sparing those innocent girls when you two were working together and victimizing them?” At this point, Charlie sneered, “Since Xavia will be a bar girl at the nightclub, you should be a pimp there, then! You will share the same fate with her. I’ll let you go after you clear your five million debt. That way, both of you have to work hard together.” “A pimp?!” Hebron’s face immediately turned pale once he heard the word. In the ancient era, a pimp was the man who did mediocre chores around the brothel. To put it bluntly, they were a class lower than the security guards.

WARNING! MATURE CONTENTS: BDSM, TORTURE! Ben, 19, lived in the slums of San Antonio. Loved clubbing. Started taking drugs not long ago. Hooked but dirt poor. Was planning to substitute the real deal for horse shit if he couldn't get a decent job to fund his cravings soon. But just when he thought things were going to balance out, his dealer became impatient and dragged him to a pimp so they could make him work for the debts he owed.

She didn’t give my words even the slightest bit of respect. “You think you know it all, as fucking usual. And that’s because you’re just a fucking kid and don’t know any better. He’s taking advantage of you! He’s been grooming you to be a little plaything, and you’re not the first. He’s been doing it to LOADS of girls! LOADS! That’s why he came here in the first fucking place! He’s on the run. A dirty fucking criminal.” I had to pull a face. “A criminal? On the run from who?”

Truth be told, Manny had trained him to be this agreeable. Manny, the slave-driving pimp who stole his childhood ten years ago, trained all of his whores to be agreeable to anyone and anything. Caleb became his crowning achievement. Having picked him up off the streets, Manny dangled the promise of riches in front of him. He trained him in the art of man-whoring, and sold him to the rich, depraved people trolling the streets after dark in their Mercedes and Jaguars, looking for boys to fulfill their evil, twisted fantasies.

“How will I know if he likes me?” “You’ll know if he doesn’t like you. Seriously, this is one dangerous bastard you’re dealing with. He’s done literally hundreds of hits for different east end gangs. No one ever finds the bodies, it’s like they never existed when he’s done. That’s why he’s always in demand.” Jimmy thought of the bodies he’d seen disappear and shuddered. “So he knows his stuff, when it comes to the dark arts, then?” “He practices Petro-Voodoun.”