by Vivian Gray
The bastard didn’t say anything else, just stood up. The other girls around her were watching her; some of them seemed terrified, some seemed indifferent, and at least one seemed badly drugged. Based on what the man had said, he tried to believe that she’d done it to herself. She could understand that; if it hadn’t been explained to her that she was putting herself at incredible risk if she didn’t get herself sold properly, she would have been looking for any kind of escape she could find.
She pushed herself up off the floor, slowly, her body still shaking. Her head hurt, and her eyes didn’t want to stay open, but she couldn’t let herself fall apart now. It didn’t matter what she wanted; it mattered what she needed. What she needed was to survive.
Some far away part of her turned on like someone had flipped a switch. She’d had to survive before, do anything necessary to get through. It was terrifying to be there again, but terrifying wasn’t the same as impossible.
There was a rack of clothing in the corner of the room. Well, clothing was an exaggeration. There were fake satin slips and cheap lingerie in a few different sizes. Laurie was slim and small; she chose a white satin slip that would just barely cover her pussy. In the back of her head, she thanked past-her for the treat of a wax just a week ago; she looked smooth and soft, and she trusted herself to reach past the nerves and pose and pout until someone was overwhelmed by her. She didn’t have the tits or ass to sell herself that way, so she’d have to look like a wild ride to get the attention of someone.
Maybe it was crazy, reacting like this, playing the game instead of trying to run. Maybe the right thing to do was to run as far and as fast as she could, beating on windows and screaming, trying to get someone to hear her.
But she had to assume that people who had an organized ring of girls to auction had thought of these things. That she wasn’t in the main part of the city, where she would be easily heard. She was somewhere just as obscure and distant as where Brian had lured her. Just thinking of him made her stomach twist up as well. How could he have done such a thing to her?
She pushed away all of the thoughts that didn’t matter and focused on how she was going to survive. She stripped off the clothes she’d been wearing when she’d gotten home and tossed them in a bin with similar discarded items. She wasn’t shy about shedding her bra and panties in front of the other girls; what was the point. She pulled on the slip and tried out a couple of shimmies and shakes. She felt the fabric moving, where it pulled and twisted, showing off more and less. It helped.
One of the other girls gestured to her. Laurie felt her heart pound for just a second, then pushed her lips up into a sexy smile. She’d hadn’t used it in a long time, but old habits die hard. She let herself sway just a bit over to the other girl.
“Hi there,” Laurie said, and the other girl grinned. There was nothing put on about the look, just a smile like regular people used.
“My name’s Delilah,” the girl said, sticking her hand out. It was odd, shaking hands like professionals when they were both half naked, but Laurie went with it.
“Hi, Delilah,” she replied. “I’m Laurie.”
“They grabbed you, huh?”
Laurie blinked hard and fast, trying to work out the consequences of saying yes – or denying what had happened. She settled on the truth; what other option did she really have? “Yeah. You?”
Delilah shook her head. “No, me and some of the other girls—” She indicated to a group of girls sitting in a corner playing cards. “—got booked through an – well, agency is a formal word, given the circumstances. But through there. So we’re here by choice, knowing what we’re getting into. And they can’t…” Delilah trailed off, her face looking a little nauseated. “They can’t do to us what Whip threatened to do to you. They signed contracts, and if they try something like that with us, they’ll get the full force of our protectors down on their heads.”
“But the rest of us?”
She reached out and took Laurie’s hand. “There’s nothing I can do from here, I need you to understand that. If I could, I would, but they took my phone when I came in. Theirs, too. They locked us up in here and started bringing in other girls. We didn’t realize what was up until they brought you in unconscious. When we get out, I’ll let my people know. They’ll... I don’t know what they’ll do, but it’ll be something. They aren’t allowed to do this. Selling girls like me, well, we know what we’re getting into, and we don’t sign up unless we want to get into it. But pulling girls off the street like this – professional or not – that’s not okay.”
“Thank you,” Laurie said. “But—”
Delilah nodded, clearly understanding where Laurie was going. “Yeah. If you can get yourself bought by someone who looks clean and not out and out murderous, it’ll go better for you. Maybe, maybe I can convince someone to let me make a call fast, but maybe not. So... look out for you. Know that we’re going to try, but... look out for you.”
“I will,” Laurie said. It was easy to say; she’d planned on it anyway. “You do the same.” It seemed polite.
Delilah laughed, and this time her smile was much more manufactured. “I always do,” she said. “Here, let me do your makeup.”
***
When Laurie stepped out onto the stage, it took all the poise she had not to wince. The lights were bright, but that was only half the trouble. She went out in a full-on saunter, and the response was deafening. Cheers, stomps on the floor and strutting. Delilah had done her makeup like she was a baby doll, and her hair was in pigtails on either side of her head. The other girl had theorized that dressing Laurie up like a pretty virgin ready to be deflowered would catch the attention of the kind of guy who might pay a lot for the privilege. That would be to her benefit.
She’d expected the hooting and hollering, but the rest – it was a lot. The reactions to her were... intense – screaming about how it would feel to fuck her tight pussy, how this one or that would pop her cherry, and crasser things, and asking if she’d taken it up the ass yet, or was she a virgin everywhere. In the front row, one guy – a handsome guy she would have happily approached at a bar – was looking right at her, rubbing himself hard through his jeans. From the look on his face, he was just moments away from creaming his jeans.
Fear curled through her – and chasing the fear, something darker and deeper than she’d expected. A vision of being thrown against a wall, fighting back as hard as she could as someone slammed into her. She knew it was supposed to be terrifying, and it was, but it was more than that as well.
She forced herself to keep up the appearance of bravado. Disgusting comments and a man coming in his shorts because he could see straight up her slip meant that her situation was even direr. She couldn’t be thrown in the back of the warehouse and left to rot. It was more important than ever that she follow through with her plan.
Seventy-two hours. She could survive anything for seventy-two hours.
In the back of the bar, a man caught her eye, and something about him made her pussy gush. He was tall, well-muscled and lean, and had full sleeve tattoos made with black ink stretching up from his wrists to his biceps. He was watching the stage with a face that was inscrutable. If she’d seen him in a bar, she wouldn’t have gone up to him and flirted; she would have watched him from across the room and fantasized about putting her hands down her pants right there and playing with herself until he came.
If someone was going to buy her and use her, she wanted it to be him.
She finished her turn as the man leaned down and whispered to a man standing next to him, wearing an eyepatch. Eyepatch nodded, and the man she wanted turned and walked out of the bar.
Something happened to Laurie’s stomach, but she wasn’t sure what exactly it was. She walked back to the man who had woken her up, the one Delilah had called Whip, and let herself fade out. She’d done what she could; there was no point in worrying now. She listened to the bids roll in, high and fast, and when Whip declared someone the winner, she let her
self be led off stage. She was taken to a car, and she thought about fighting and trying to make a run for it from here, but it was exhausting. She could barely string two thoughts together.
In the car, she felt warm arms wrapping around her chilled arms. Delilah was in the car as well, and she held Laurie close like Laurie was a much smaller child. “You did good, girl,” Delilah murmured, pushing a few strands of hair off Laurie’s forehead. “You did real good.”
Laurie let herself sleep a little bit. When the car stopped, she was pulled up out of the car – though far more gently than she’d been tossed into a van – and led through a series of dark rooms. She saw a bar, a room with darts and pool tables, and a sort of mess hall area. Closed doors. And then a small room with a bed, a table, and nothing else. She was guided into the room, and as soon as she was inside, she heard the door click locked.
Fear twisted her into knots, and suddenly she was fighting back the tears. This was real. It was all happening. It was real.
Someone had left out a bottle of water and a couple of sandwiches on a plate. Her stomach gurgled all of a sudden. She thought again of how girls were kidnapped and drugged, and she wanted to ignore the food, but she was also painfully hungry. She needed to stay strong so that if she got a chance to run, she could take it. Being too weak to move would be just as bad as being drugged, in the long run. She ate the sandwiches and drank the water before she laid down on the bed, pulling the surprisingly soft blanket over her slip, and fell into an exhausted sleep.
Chapter Four
Laurie
Laurie woke to the sound of the lock twisting. She was up on her feet before she was awake, and as soon as there was even a sliver of light around the door, she ran at it full tilt. She had no plan, no idea of what to do next, but she ran. Fighting was better than not fighting.
The man caught her easily and shoved her backward, then pushed the door shut behind him. She heard the lock twist shut again and she let out a little scream of frustration.
He was the lean man with the tattoos from the bar; she knew him instantly. Her pussy was gushing again in a heartbeat, taking in his gorgeous tattoos, the wiry strength of him, his handsome face. He wore his hair in a long ponytail down his back, and it was a deep, warm brown color. He looked like he would have an easy sort of smile at another time. Now? Right now he just looked like he wanted to fuck.
Even as Laurie’s clit burned with the need to be touched, her heart slammed in her chest like a frightened bird.
“Oh, you want to fight?” The man worked his belt, pulling the leather free of his denim belt loops with a gorgeous hiss. “You can fight if you want. Won’t make a difference. But if you want to fight?” He grinned then, and the expression was cold – and made her nipples tighten.
He reached out a hand to take hers and Laurie yanked it back. The room was small, just barely big enough for the two pieces of furniture it contained, but she pressed herself hard into the corner, trying to be as tiny as she could, as if she could somehow disappear, even as he strode slowly towards her. He shed his shirt, exposing more tattoos trailing up from his stomach. In another life, she would have fallen to her knees and begged to trace them up his body with her tongue. Now, he worked his fly down and pulled his cock out.
Laurie’s eyes bugged out. He was thick, so thick he filled his own palm, and he was long, too. She’d never seen a cock so big outside of porn, and she felt her pussy gushing just a little more. She told herself that this wasn’t what she wanted, wasn’t real, wasn’t happening. She wasn’t turned on by this. She wasn’t.
“If you’re going to be on your knees,” he said, his fist wrapping around her hair and pulling her close, “then you might as well be useful.”
His cock was pressed hard against her lips, and the only thing she could do was open for him. He was so big she could barely wrap her mouth around him, and when he pumped into her mouth, she had to time her breathing or choke.
He pulled out for a moment and cracked his free hand across her cheek. She cried out again, tears springing to her eyes.
“Make it good,” he said. “I bought you. I own you. Make it good, or it’ll be worse for you.”
She choked back the tears that were threatening to fall, and this time when his cock came to her lips, she opened eagerly. She worked him in her mouth as hard as she could, taking as much of him in as she could, pushing past her gag reflex and letting him push down her throat as far as she could take. She stroked him with her other hand, pulling up from the base so that his entire cock was encased in her. He groaned and pumped harder into her mouth, and she hoped – she hoped – maybe this would be enough. Maybe he’d blow his load in her mouth, and that would be the end of this.
Instead, he pulled back and used his grip on her hair to drag her up to her feet. He pinned her to the wall easily, hoisting her up and pushing her thighs apart so that he rested between them. She felt his eager, weeping cock against her thigh, and she shook her head fiercely.
“Please,” she begged. “Please don’t.”
He laughed. “Don’t what?” His fingers dug into her ass, but she was pretty sure he could have held her there as long as he wanted to.
“Don’t do this. Please. Don’t – don’t—”
“Don’t fuck you?” He grinned again, and he leaned down, biting her nipple hard through her slip. She cried out again, and she told herself, told herself and told herself that it didn’t feel good, none of this felt good. “I told you. I own you now. I can do anything I want. Fight if you want, I don’t care. But I’m going to take what I paid for.”
She screamed, and she fought. She slammed her fists into his shoulders, his chest, but it didn’t make any difference. He slammed his fingers, one, two, and then three, into her cunt, and she groaned, trying to push him off. It was like pushing at a mountain. He spread his fingers wide, pushing her open for his cock, preparing her. “Please, stop,” she heard herself still begging. Tears had started streaming down her face now, and she couldn’t control them. “Please, please, don’t do this.”
He laughed again, and it was a sound like he suddenly got a joke. “Are you pretending that I’m raping you?”
She screamed; it was the only answer she had.
“That’s cute, whore. That’s really cute. Only, do you want to know a secret?”
Her throat was hoarse from screaming, and her body was aching, and she didn’t know why she felt so incredibly needy and wanting. She shook her head hard; it was the only thing he had.
His fingers pulled free from her greedy, gushing cunt, and they teased over her lower lip. “You can’t rape the willing,” he murmured, and his cock slammed into her at the same time that he pushed his fingers between her lips. She tasted herself, salty and strong, as he groaned into her. “Fuck,” he whispered in her ear, slamming into her hard, pushing her up then dropping her down on his cock. It hurt, it hurt in a way that was buzzing through her clit and her stomach, and she felt herself tangling up inside in a way she knew far too well.
“Oh God.” She whimpered, the sensations burning up in her, pushing her towards something that she did not want, she could not want. This couldn’t happen, it couldn’t.
He came inside of her, grunting and hard, no preamble. She felt his cum leaking down her thighs. Thank God, thank God, with his thrusting dying down, that pleasure she told herself she hated was receding.
He set her down, his hand idly stroking his erection – but he wasn’t getting any less hard. She felt her eyes widen, and her breathing started to speed up again; she told herself that it was because he had hurt her so much.
He raised a single eyebrow. “You didn’t think I’d be done after just one load, did you?” He paused for just a moment. “I have some aggression to work out. You’re doing just fine, don’t you worry.” His hand gripped her hair again, and he pulled her back to her feet, tossing her sideways across the bed. There was no delay; his cock was buried in her again before she could recover at all. And this time, with him
standing up and tilting her hips so that he could drill into her as hard as possible, there was no escaping the sensation that was tearing through her. She bit her lip and tried to control her breathing to hold off until he was done, but he saw what was happening somehow. He laughed again. “Are you trying not to come while you’re playing at being raped?”
“Please don’t.” She whimpered again, and even the begging made it almost impossible to hold off. “I can’t come like this, not here, not like this, please, please, I’ll do anything, just please don’t do this to me.”
Instead of backing off like she’d hoped, his thumb pressed down hard on her clit. With the thrusts of his body, there was nothing she could do; the pleasure exploded through her, and she was screaming, bucking against him as she came harder than she ever had in her life. She rode him as best as she could in that position, grinding into him; she heard him come again, groaning as he used her this time to milk out the last few drops.
He let her hips drop, then reached down to pat her hair and – press a kiss against her forehead? What the hell?