before. He wanted these women in the pub, all of them, he wanted to destroy their beauty one by one, teach them a lesson by taking their confidence away from them. “Sluts, flaunting themselves like that,” he muttered,
they’ll get what they deserve one day
. His body was now tensing up and he began to feel a little conspicuous and tried to relax himself a little, as he knew he didn’t want to raise any suspicions of what he truly was.
“Hey John, do you want another pint?” asked Dave.
“No.” John suddenly snapped out of his thoughts. He turned politely and said, “I’m off, I don’t feel too well and don’t want to get trashed tonight, I’m off home, I’ll catch you all at work next week eh. Cheers.” And he was off, just like that.
He was relieved to be out of the claustrophobic atmosphere. He walked a short distance along by the river and climbed into his car where he sat for a while never. He hadn’t intended to drive home, but he’d only had three pints and he was a big man and reckoned he might just be under the limit, and he certainly didn’t feel pissed. He started the car and began to head home. He did not intend to indulge in anything more that night, but something stirred within him and he decided to change direction and drive along the sea front onto Salamander Street towards the area where prostitutes openly walked the streets touting for tricks. He had never used a prostitute before as he believed he should never have to pay for sex; the fact that a woman got some sex from him should be enough for them. His thoughts turned foul and he decided he was going to find the youngest prettiest little whore and teach her that she hadn’t made the best choice this evening; selecting him for a trick would put her career choice seriously into question and maybe even her life.He smiled a treacherous smile as his eyes narrowed and he drove with more conviction and purpose.
He pulled onto Seafield Road and there were several women underdressed for the weather, long thigh length boots, basks and the shortest skirts imaginable. John was already hard from his previous thoughts and his desire was becoming overwhelming. He drove slowly past the women and watched, leered at and examined their faces and bodies, memorising every detail for when he made his final choice. He drove by several times and looked to see which of the whores had a pimp in tow and which did not. He didn’t want any male attention tonight, just the ladies; he didn’t want a fair fight, he wanted to instil terror and dominate and control.
He parked up in a street, just off Salamander Street, where he knew there was no CCTV coverage and a safe route out to other streets that avoided the gaze of the lens, areas not covered by the watchful eye of the city’s cameras. The night dragged on as the women were picked up and dropped off; not long for each customer, just enough to get their rocks off.
What a waste of money,
John thought to himself,
I certainly won’t be as quick and I certainly won’t be paying
. The night drew on and his patience was finally rewarded. There was a pretty young Polish looking girl heading towards him. The pimps were nowhere to be seen.
She spotted him sitting in his car, something that didn’t surprise her. Lots of men sat and stared, waiting for them to approach. Her thoughts clouded with the awful things that were expected of them. Men seemed to think if they paid for sex that these girls weren’t worthy of any respect, care or freedom from being forced to carry out depraved acts, which they would never dream of asking their partners to perform. She was really tired, but could see that there was still money to be made and the more she got, the less likely she was to receive a beating from her pimp. If her earnings were up on the night before, she could sneak a little more for herself and pay him enough to keep him off her back, or stop him demanding favours for himself and he wasn’t a kind and caring
they’ll get what they deserve one day
. His body was now tensing up and he began to feel a little conspicuous and tried to relax himself a little, as he knew he didn’t want to raise any suspicions of what he truly was.
“Hey John, do you want another pint?” asked Dave.
“No.” John suddenly snapped out of his thoughts. He turned politely and said, “I’m off, I don’t feel too well and don’t want to get trashed tonight, I’m off home, I’ll catch you all at work next week eh. Cheers.” And he was off, just like that.
He was relieved to be out of the claustrophobic atmosphere. He walked a short distance along by the river and climbed into his car where he sat for a while never. He hadn’t intended to drive home, but he’d only had three pints and he was a big man and reckoned he might just be under the limit, and he certainly didn’t feel pissed. He started the car and began to head home. He did not intend to indulge in anything more that night, but something stirred within him and he decided to change direction and drive along the sea front onto Salamander Street towards the area where prostitutes openly walked the streets touting for tricks. He had never used a prostitute before as he believed he should never have to pay for sex; the fact that a woman got some sex from him should be enough for them. His thoughts turned foul and he decided he was going to find the youngest prettiest little whore and teach her that she hadn’t made the best choice this evening; selecting him for a trick would put her career choice seriously into question and maybe even her life.He smiled a treacherous smile as his eyes narrowed and he drove with more conviction and purpose.
He pulled onto Seafield Road and there were several women underdressed for the weather, long thigh length boots, basks and the shortest skirts imaginable. John was already hard from his previous thoughts and his desire was becoming overwhelming. He drove slowly past the women and watched, leered at and examined their faces and bodies, memorising every detail for when he made his final choice. He drove by several times and looked to see which of the whores had a pimp in tow and which did not. He didn’t want any male attention tonight, just the ladies; he didn’t want a fair fight, he wanted to instil terror and dominate and control.
He parked up in a street, just off Salamander Street, where he knew there was no CCTV coverage and a safe route out to other streets that avoided the gaze of the lens, areas not covered by the watchful eye of the city’s cameras. The night dragged on as the women were picked up and dropped off; not long for each customer, just enough to get their rocks off.
What a waste of money,
John thought to himself,
I certainly won’t be as quick and I certainly won’t be paying
. The night drew on and his patience was finally rewarded. There was a pretty young Polish looking girl heading towards him. The pimps were nowhere to be seen.
She spotted him sitting in his car, something that didn’t surprise her. Lots of men sat and stared, waiting for them to approach. Her thoughts clouded with the awful things that were expected of them. Men seemed to think if they paid for sex that these girls weren’t worthy of any respect, care or freedom from being forced to carry out depraved acts, which they would never dream of asking their partners to perform. She was really tired, but could see that there was still money to be made and the more she got, the less likely she was to receive a beating from her pimp. If her earnings were up on the night before, she could sneak a little more for herself and pay him enough to keep him off her back, or stop him demanding favours for himself and he wasn’t a kind and caring
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