A briefcase exchanged from The Devil to Hendrix’s hand, and then without a glance back—he left us in that house.
“Where are you going, Hendrix? You can’t just leave us here . . . with these monsters,” Fi screamed; but he merely grinned, strolling out of The Devil’s home—as if he had just sold a trunk of weed.
We had been the bricks of bud that could be sold to the highest bidder. My mother’s high-pitched voice scolded in my mind, “You left Denny’s with a stranger? And now, Mija, you’ll probably be dead by morning.”
Bruises ached at my arms and legs while my assigned attacker beat me into submission.
“Stay down, bitch.” His ruthless words assaulted my soul while each physical blow to my back and arms left me limp and obedient.
“Take them to my room.” I cringed as The Devil’s words sliced fear into my eardrums.
“Baaabe,” Lena cried. She shoved and pushed, in a soul-crushing desperation, as she reached to grasp my hand. Fear etched at her face, and I imagined that I shared her terror-filled thoughts. I hadn’t had dick-sex in years, but Lena . . . She once confessed that she had traditional sex—one time—at eighteen, but the dude basically popped her cherry and left.
“I couldn’t get off because I was born gay,” she had testified.
Images of Lena’s calm face and warm kisses soothed my troubled mind while the mute, camo swarm shoved and abused the five of us defenseless piglets.
As we marched up The Devil’s lavish staircase, I reached to touch the smooth marble because I had hoped that the coldness would wake me from our nightmare. Instead, the vicious abuse continued.
“Hands down, whore.” The asshole behind me smacked my hand until it burned at my side.
“Ahhh.” Fi tripped, tumbling face first—until her captor caught her by her hair.
“Watch your step, slut.” He yanked her hair until she fell onto his chest. Her cries dug splinters into my heart. The hero within me tried to fight my attacker, but his rough palm and fingers squeezed a firm grip around my neck.
By the time we reached the second floor, the room spun while I struggled to breath because his murderous grip intended to choke the life out of me.
“Release her,” The Devil ordered when he noticed my pending suffocation.
Our journey from the staircase to an unknown room had been our death-row march. My mind had become plagued with worrisome thoughts: I never squashed my drama with my parents and I feared that I’d die without anyone knowing.
Yet, I refused to cry like FZG and Lena, who had become blubbering, snot and tear-drenched piglets.
Our attackers yanked us to a stop, in front of two French-style, white doors that slid against a plush-cream carpet—then the camo swarm shoved us onto all fours. Again, I tried to fight back but a strike against my back left me flat on my face.
“Pleeease. Staaahp fighting back, O,” Lena gurgled through her cries.
“Silence,” The Devil in a loose-fitting robe ordered.
“I’m a man of business. In my youth, I dabbled in pimping. But as I neared my thirties, I recognized the demand of high-end pussy.” His atrocious words reminded us that our freedom had been sold. The Devil had bought us like an everyday bag of bud.
“Hendrix sold you, and now you’re my product to do with as I please.” His chest shook while a sinister laugh expelled from his lips. The Devil’s speech, as he called it, had been our orientation into our new life.
“I paid fifteen-thousand for each of you, so until you’ve made thirty-thousand: you’re my pussies to do with as I desire.” It felt as if he would never stop droning on, commanding us to do as he said. His ramblings continued while the oversized bed with bolted metal cuffs, the only furniture in the room, held a deathly grip on my attention.
The Devil stood there, like a tower of hatred with his charcoal eyes, which burned and scorched any hopes that we would ever leave that elegant home from hell. His sculptured, ceramic devil mask seared an ominous warning of what would come.
“No . . . Please, anything else.” FZG and Lena bawled like abandoned orphans. Unlike them, my disbelief of the situation and my lingering buzz, kept me from crying.
“To you, I am . . . El Diablo.” His voice boomed, demanding obedience; then his black-silk robe slid enough to reveal his smooth, lightly bronzed skin.
El Diablo had a thin frame, like a normal-type of guy; but the evil in his stare warned of his sinister ways. “Tie them down and get them ready for me,” he ordered, and without any type of protest—the camo swarm did as he had commanded.
Dense metal cuffs, which had been attached to heavy chains, menaced from the oversized bed. We, his newly purchased products, fought until the camo swarm beat us into docile nothings. My harsh steel cuffs sliced at my wrist and ankles as I glared at the speckled but smooth cream-colored ceiling paint. I almost felt comforted, staring at the ceiling that resembled my bedroom’s. For a second, I peered over just enough to notice that they had restrained Lena and I on one side while FZG screamed from the other side of the double king-sized bed.
“Go busy yourself while I relieve some pent-up stress,” El Diablo ordered, waving his minions away. Like mice, fleeing from a hungry cat, his camo swarm scattered out of the bedroom and then slammed the door.
We, the defenseless piglets, struggled and screamed while we awaited our torture on the bed from hell.
“Now, don’t fight . . . be good to me, and I’ll discount $300 from your $30,000 debt.”
Not even an ounce of bud could have prepared me for what he did to us. Forced sex tarnished more than our bodies, it killed our souls and left us mentally shocked.
“Ple-e-e-ase. Please . . . not like this,” Zora screamed the loudest. Eventually, his body on all of us combined with ZFG and Lena’s screams—launched my buzzed mind into a horrifying nightmare: one that I couldn’t escape.
“Stop screaming and just take it, whores.” The cries and whimpers from FZG had become too much to tolerate as I fought against my restraints.
“Mmm. Three of a kind, felt just fine. But now on to this tight little wrapped pom-pom.” He crawled his way to Lena, and her terrified eyes locked on my gaze. I reached for her, but failed to grasp her small hand.
“Ahhh. Whiiieee?” My poor Foxy shrieked in pain when he forced himself inside of her. I struggled, useless and unable to help her as her stare never left my gaze. Black tears violently barreled down her face as she screamed in agony. I couldn’t do shit to save my Lena because the same torture she endured, I too had to survive.
“Aaahhh—don’t move, just take it!” El Diablo moaned before he pulled out and covered Lena’s Face with his sickness.
“Eww. What the fuck is wrong with you? You sick motherfucker,” she spat out in disgust as she failed to clean her face.
The Devil in his sculpted mask, locked his gaze with mine. He sensed my fear, and a wicked grin spread wide across his lips as he prowled in my direction.
My skin crawled as he reached me; and my heart stopped when, with an unexpected strength, he barbarically ripped off my shorts and tank. Terror struck me silent because I had never felt as vulnerable as I felt in that moment. Yet, I resisted my urge to show my fear: I stared deep into his charcoal-colored eyes, not once did I show weakness.
“Mmm. So tiiight. You’ll be worth as much as her,” he huffed into my ear while he violently plunged his disgusting fingers in-and-out of me. I showed my strength and resilience, and seared my hatred-filled stare at his pleasured face.
Fear trembled from within me, but I stayed as strong as a stone. My hatred increased as I clawed at the mattress, and no matter how much I fought against him . . . with one swift attack, his violent growth plunged into my dry opening.
“Damn. You’re second best to her.” His moans amplified as his weight became heavier on me. My mind disengaged as he plunged, deeper . . . harder . . . over-and-over. El Diablo reached for my face and covered my eyes before he emptied
his load on my tits.
“Enter,” he ordered as his lean frame released me from my nightmare.
He used me like some dirty fabric he could cover in his filth and then toss aside. I felt relieved that he had finished, but my mind panicked as I realized that I’d have to repeat what just happened—until I reached my $30,000 debt.
I reached out for Lena, and I felt broken when I noticed how puffy my Foxy’s face had become. “I’m sorry . . . We should have just gone home.” My whispered apology fell on deaf ears, since FZG and Lena wept uncontrollably.
“Listen—because we may be separated. Be attentive and do as they say. Pay your debt and flea this hell and please get help,” I uttered before an assigned handler brutally freed us from our restraints. I visualized myself attacking him, but I knew it would have only caused us piglets more pain.
We, the naked and used-up products, had been manhandled with hate while we paced ourselves down the stairs. From the elaborate staircase, they shoved us into a trophy wife’s dream kitchen: stainless steel and brand-spanking new—everything.
“Pick up the pace, used pussy.” Our captors brutally punched and shoved us until they yanked us to a stop. We stood inches from a door, in a dark hallway, just outside the kitchen.
A tower of rotten skin, the largest and smelliest of our captors, swung the mystery door inward; and with more hatred, they continued to shove us down a cantaloupe-painted stairwell. Zora stumbled on the last step; and from the hard cement floor, she lifted to face us.
“Oh, Zora.” Lena clapped her hands over her mouth as we awed in pain when we noticed her bruised and bloody face.
Two calloused hands shoved me aside; then one of the camo swarm spat out in distaste as he yanked Zora to her feet, “Fuck! The Boss won’t like that.”
El Diablo’s basement had a bright hallway, filled with cantaloupe-colored walls and doors. A single bulb had been bolted above each door. El Diablo owned a mansion with a boundless basement: endless rows of doors followed both sides of a hallway, which resembled a scene from The Twilight Zone.
The camo swarm’s giant, stepped forward and shoved at us until we tumbled into a communal bathroom. Rows of toilets, sinks, and shower heads lined the furthest wall. Several enclosed drains gleamed from the tiled floor.
“There’s no privacy for us while we use the toilet or shower?” Gia questioned while she failed to cover her ample tits.
“We will be in the hallway—you have ten minutes. Everything you will need is over there.” An average-sized camo captor pointed toward stacked supplies that covered a nearby bench.
Like takeout, Hendrix had delivered us to The Devil. Indeed, I had felt emotionally stunned to have been sold. However, surviving what had followed . . . an evil had pulled us into his lair, and dug deep into our souls. I couldn’t move or speak while I stared in disbelief at my torn and battered reflection.
A gruff-like voice boomed from outside, “Nine minutes.”
We piglets jerked our heads towards the six toilets to our right; and in a race we used the facilities. In a mad-dash, to avoid further beatings, we continued in a panic and washed our hands.
“Here—hurry.” Lena showed strength as she charged forward, handing everyone their toiletry bags. In a military-like hustle, we sprinted toward the showers and shivered under the artic-cold water that pounded against our filth-covered skin. A shower in a deep freezer would have been warmer. Yet, the water felt like a baptism: it cleaned El Diablo’s sins from our skin.
Bridezillas, searching for their perfect dresses, had nothing on us as we frantically hurried while we washed and rinsed. “Please, I don’t want to be beaten anymore,” Gia whimpered as she handed everyone towels. Fi and Zora slipped as they exited the shower section. They whined in dismay, clinging to each other for support.
“Be strong or they’ll charge us and keep us here forever,” Zora scolded as she tugged her towel across her back.
I rushed, with my toiletry bag on my wrist, towards our towels. They didn’t compare to the softness of the towels I had owned, but the fabric provided a soft contrast to the harsh abuse we’d endured.
Out of habit, I applied cream to my face and body. I stopped and watched Lena, rushing while violent sobs jolted from her core. I knew I shouldn’t have laughed, but her weeping while combing her hair had resembled a spoiled child who wanted their way.
“Be gentle with your hair, Foxy. We’ll get through this, you’ll see. We just have to stay strong.” I pulled her against my chest and wrapped my arms tightly around her small frame. She wept uncontrollably until a loud knock rattled us to attention.
A deep, hateful voice announced from the other side of the door, “Time. Is. UP.” We stood still, mostly dressed, and frightened by what would come next.
“Hurry the eff up before they beat on us some more,” Fi squealed at everyone as she pulled white yoga pants over her slender legs.
A creak from the bathroom door caused us to speed dress into our yoga pants paired with bra-lined camisoles. The shortest member of the camo squad ordered from the door, “Hang your towels and bags, and don’t forget to brush your teeth.” His gator-like grin sent a shiver up my spine.
Lena grasped my arm while our captors led us out of the restroom. “Please, hurry up and go this way.” A masked captor waved for us to follow him. An eerie discomfort built as I realized that something had changed from how they had treated us earlier: they used manners as they politely guided us to our next destination.
“Here we are.” A peculiar grin revealed itself from one of the masked captors.
We piglets huddled close, clinging to each other for support. I felt Lena clench up as another cantaloupe-colored door opened into a vibrant-yellow room with rows of bunks and lockers. Our shared bedroom resembled the sleeping quarters of a military-themed movie. However, instead of lifeless white walls and worn metal bunks and lockers, we slept in a citrus-themed dorm.
A powerful voice ordered from behind us, “You’ll sleep now, and we will wake you for your first shift.” They waved us in, and we huddled close as we cautiously stepped inside. Lena linked her fingers with mine while we turned to view the dorm’s intimidating metal door clink shut.
“We’re sex prisoners,” Gia whispered. Her hands smothered her mouth, but the violent sobs that shook from her body made our nightmare a reality. Zora pulled Gia into a hug while Lena stood speechless.
“Remember: we just have to do like O said, pay our debt and get the fuck out of here,” Fi instructed, marching towards the nearest bunk. She unraveled the tightly made bed and then snuggled under the blanket. Zora and Gia followed their cousin, then selected the bottom bunks that surrounded Fi.
“This is horrible—I don’t know if I can do this, O. That was my second time . . . being with a man, and it was horrible. I’m not sure if I can have $29,700s worth of sex—with strangers.” Tears flowed from Lena’s eyes.
In that moment, I had no choice but to guide her to our bed and snuggle-up close behind her. We had gotten each other off so many times, but had never shared a bed. As I wrapped my arms around my Foxy—I tamed the guilt that increased when I realized that our first intimate slumber would be shared in a sex dungeon.
Lena pulled the soft welcoming sheets and covered our skin. They felt comforting, but lacked the tenderness of my comforter.
“We’re trapped animals who were sold to the highest bidder. They’re gonna force us to perform sexual acts—with strangers. I hope we can survive this . . . I miss home . . . and I’m worried that we’ll lose our apartment, O,” Lena whimpered against my arm. I kept quiet, holding her tighter because I had to ignore my fears and continue as the rock she had always needed.
Nothing would ever feel like home, and as I hugged my Foxy, listening to her soft breaths as she fell asleep—guilt radiated from my heart as my lover slept for the first time in my arms. Our abused souls united and formed a silent agreement, as if by not mentioning our rape . . . we cou
ld erase it. However, what El Diablo put us through had always taunted my mind with the fact that he owned us. No matter how much I tried to focus on our pending freedom, my thoughts always returned to the bitch who loved me best. If I only had a blunt . . . or two.
An unfamiliar voice boomed, startling us awake, “Wake up, Lil’ Pussies.” I opened my eyes to Lena, tucking and covering her head under the sheets.
In my peripheral, FZG tumbled out of their beds. They repetitively blinked and rubbed at their eyes as they held Fi’s bunk frame. Boots stomped in our direction, and the reminder of our victimization flooded my mind with confused, hateful thoughts.
“Nooo,” Lena screamed as tears shook down her face while a camo swarm mute ripped her from my arms.
“Your life before today—doesn’t matter. You have a debt to pay. And today starts your first day of repayment,” El Diablo ordered, pushing his way through the crowd of camo cronies. Whatever kindness that seeped out the night before—had quickly disappeared.
They herded us out of our dorms and in the direction of the restroom while El Diablo announced, “You’ll have a routine to follow: restroom, eat, primp, and then treat your dates as if they are the center of your universe. Understood?” He used dates as if we willingly wanted to work for him. My skin tightened and felt as if it would have crawled away.
What we had to prepare for had been forced contact with strangers, not dates. He had pimped us to the highest bidder—because we lacked ownership of our bodies. Human trafficking: the dirty secret that I would hear about on the news, but never did I imagine that I would be exploited. Months of the discovered, naked female bodies’ news reports cycled in my mind while our captors marched us towards the latrine.
“You look like you need to be taught some lessons.” Gia fell victim to the sadist of the group: he viewed her as our weakest link, and he enjoyed releasing his frustration against her back.
“Please, no.” She blocked her face, whimpering while he jabbed his forceful index finger into her back. Fi stared at me with panicked-filled eyes, as if urging me to do something. But I knew that if I had, it would have been torture for all of us.
3 Grams: An Addictive Novella Page 4