Hi everyone! I am re-posting this today! I m am sorry for the absence of my updating on other stories, even though I said I would be updating weekly now. It's because of a lot of things. For one, my grandfather is in the hospital with some kind of kidney failure, and it's potentially life threatening. Another thing, I am in this fucked up advanced math class, and it's really difficult for me, it's starting to really stress me out. I will now try to update weekly though, but not every story can be updated every week, due to rule #2.

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Well, enough excuses, on with the story!

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Used and Abused:

Chapter one: My Job

I head down the dark alleyway in search of customers. I had to get

money somehow, and I saw no other way. All the "normal" jobs were

taken, and the ones that weren't, I couldn't get hired for. This was

my life since the age of three.

Three years old, and left by my father. He didn't want to leave me,

but my abusive mother forced him away. Though she wasn't abusive

then. It started the day I turned four.

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I had been a happy, innocent toddler, excited for the day. But when I pranced down the stairs to greet my mother and father, whom I hadn't realized was gone, my mother became abusive.

"Morning, Draven," she had said. The smile she had worn had been so

happy and cheerful, as my father had left only three days before, and she was happy about that.

"Hi, Mommy," I had replied. Then I had realized what was missing. "Where's Daddy?" That question sealed my fate.

"Daddy's gone," she said. I didn't quite understand.

"When is he coming back?" I asked her.

"He's never coming back, Draven." Had I not been the naive toddler I

was, I would have realized the anger in her eyes.

"Why no-" I was silenced by a hard slap on the cheek, but the silence quickly died, turing into crying.

"Shut the fuck up, you little piece of shit. I said Daddy's not coming back. End

of fucking story." The tone in her voice was so mean, I could not believe that she had been the nice, caring mother I once knew five seconds before.

I could only nod.

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I saw someone leaning against a wall, looking me up and down. I hated it when they did that, it always made me feel worse about myself than I already did, like I was just some slab of meat for anyone to eat if they chose to.

This man continued looking over my 15 year old body, and apparentally liked what was there, as he pushed off the wall and walked over to me.

"How much for a quick fuck?" he asked me, his voice dripping with

lust. I knew this wouldn't be gentle; in fact, I knew this would hurt a lot. People were never gentle.

"300, no less," I said simply.

"Fair enough, follow me."

I followed the man for about two minutes, ending up in a seemingly

abandoned apartment building.

The second we reached a junky bedroom, I found myself laying down

with this strange man pinning me in that position.

I couldn't help but be scared. This man was almost twice my size, and could easily kill me with one finger.

This man began kissing me, sliding his tongue along my bottom lip. I

allowed entrance, not kissing back, just allowing the man to abuse my mouth to his heart's content.

The second he pulled away, I felt his large hands roaming my body

greedily. He tugged at my shirt, and when I did not move, just tore

it right off.

He pulled away for a second to admire my shirtless body, and then

pulled his own shirt off.

The second the shirt was off, he was tugging at my belt, finally

getting it off. He pulled off my pants and boxers, revealing my still

soft cock.

He wasted no time kicking aside his own remailing clothing, and his

naked form was soon on top of me, his rock hard cock pressed up against my very skinny stomach.

I soon found myself flipped over onto my stomach, and was almost

immediately enveloped in a world of pain as his cock entered my ass,

no lubricant involved.He also wasted no time letting me adjust; he

immediately began thrusting harder and harder, moaning all the while.

I screamed and begged him to stop, but of course, he never did.

Nobody ever did. The pain was becoming too much to bear.

He finally screamed and shuddered, and I felt the warm liquid fill my insides, giving me a need to throw up.

The man pulled out, threw his clothes on, and left, leaving $300 next to me on the bed. I lay there, recovering, for about an hour. When I finally felt well enough, I grabbed the money, got dressed, and left.

Glancing at my watch, I found that I was late to come home.

"Shit! Mom's gonna kill me!" I began sprinting home, ignoring the

pain I was still in.

This was my life...used and abused.

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