With heavy hearts, we rushed and used the restroom. We fell silent, as the camo-wearing sadist pinned Gia to the wall while the shortest of the camo wolves helped himself to Gia’s body.
“Mmm. You’re so smooth—and you smell like something I need to have.” His gruff-like voice hummed from the corner of the bathroom.
“No . . . please, not like this,” she whimpered and pleaded while they tugged at her short-shorts and lifted her thin camisole over her round, perky breasts.
“Please—no, not again.” Tears fell from Gia’s eyes while the rest of us sulked with guilt. Anything we could have done would have resulted in more vicious abuse.
“Hey there . . . pretty pussies.” Two more camo captors strolled in, trapping us as we froze while a deathlike fear kept us from helping Gia.
“Nooo. Please. Heeelp me.” Her screams became unbearable.
“Back-the-fuck-off-of-her,” I yelled over the asshole who blocked me into an adjacent bathroom corner. I ducked under his black sweater-covered arm and bolted towards Gia. But then, I stopped mid-bathroom as I watched in terror: the short bastard, viciously plunged his disgusting fingers into Gia while he yanked at his repulsive dick.
“Uhh,” I mumbled, falling to the cold, unforgiving floor as I vomited what had been left of my tuna melt. Taunting, heavy steps loomed in my direction—and then firm-calloused hands wrapped around the back of my neck. In a swift slam, my head clunked against the bathroom floor, like a bowling ball that flew out of an amateur’s hand.
“Geeet your hands—off me,” I released a gurgle of words while my face scratched along the gritty floor.
“Stop it! You’re killing her.” Lena lunged to help, but someone jerked her out of my line of vision. No matter how much I tried, I failed to consume enough air to find my footing.
“Listen here, now, Lil’ Pussy—realize that y’all are nothin’ more than a product. So stop fightin’ and all will be gravy, baby.” His voice contradicted his actions: he gave backhanded encouragement while his steel-toe boot pressed firmly against my defenseless fingers.
From the sink, again, Lena rushed to my side—until my attacker knocked her off her feet. The previous night’s glimpse of kindness had vanished like the life we held before our imprisonment. Their aggression became a forceful reminder of who held control. My assailant shifted my neck, and I caught a view of Zora and Fi, trembling from the sink as they securely held hands. They had confirmed to their roles: submissive sex-slaves who feared to even glance in our direction.
“Come . . . here.” I reached for Lena. My throat felt too bruised and in desperate need of medical attention. Through heavy wheezing, I managed to stand and help Lena to her feet.
“I can’t do this . . . I want to go home, and just return to our life—I can’t survive this.” Her entire body trembled as she released a monsoon of emotions. I held her as long as I could.
“Foxy, please be the strong beautiful woman that I love—please.” I kissed her forehead, before she drifted her gaze to my eyes.
I said it: I told her that I loved her.
Tears welled, threatening to escape from her long black lashes while her face creased with despair. I knew I had waited too long to tell her what she had desperately longed to hear. I hugged her tighter and whispered into her ear, “It just slipped out . . . but surviving all of this has made me realize that I do love you, Lena. So-so much, Foxy: I love you and I promise you, everything will change when we leave this place—because we will leave this hell.” I squeezed her tighter against my chest.
“O,” Lena shrieked and reached for me before a masked captor ripped her from my arms.
Verbal and physical violence continued until we obeyed their demands, “Get the fuck up, and stand where we tell you to, Lil’ Pussies.”
From the bathroom to an unknown area, they brutalized us with their abuse until they slammed Fi into a new door. Bright lights and a hopeful shade of cornflower blue, greeted us as we entered a room filled with outdoor picnic tables. The basement’s paint job resembled a candy store: bright and cheerful. However, that place had been nothing more than a candy colored prison.
Defeated and abused, we hung our heads low as the camo wolves shoved us until we crowded around the nearest table’s bench. Splinter-like pricks pinched at my exposed skin; and I lacked an appetite, but they didn’t care.
They placed school-trays with tiny portions in front of us while one grunted, “Eat your oatmeal and apple, and don’t forget to wash it down with your water.”
“This is horrible.” Fi grimaced, picking at our slack breakfast.
We quickly realized that, like our Artic-cold showers, our meal had been a cruel, deceptive joke: the oatmeal had been as cold as an ice brick; the apple tasted like a warm ball of mush; and the bottled water felt as if it had sat in a car, during a scorching Texas summer.
My head throbbed, since—by that point of day—I would have had a blunt to chief. But not that day. Somehow, I managed to finish most of my meal. Meal? Ha. What they fed us, during those days, had been minimal calories.
Bud-smoking recollections cycled within my mind while my legs shook under the table. I anxiously dug my nails into my knees, waiting for everyone else to finish their meals. Smoke-session thoughts taunted me with memories of rolling a fresh bubble-berry blunt.
An unknown, husky voice probed from behind me, “What’s your damage?” When I ignored his question, he punished me with cruel jabs to my shoulder.
“She needs to smoke, dude—just leave her alone,” Lena answered for me as she rubbed at my shoulders.
I jerked, huddling into a defensive ball while screams quaked from the core of the room as an attacker yanked Lena by the nape of her neck. Her legs scrapped against the table, shifting its position as he pulled her from her seat.
“Fucking bastard!” I yelled, stumbling to my feet. My insides crunched into a ball of hurt when the giant sadist sucker-punched me while he choked Lena.
“Stay down, Pussy. I wasn’t talkin’ to you—now was I?” His golden-yellow teeth threatened from behind his ski-mask while his enraged eyes, with just one scold, killed my insides. I had become a worthless-human, slumping deeper into my seat as I waited for more abuse.
Lena’s legs kicked, struggling against the massive bricklike giant. A perfuse rage built within me while her cries and fight to live made it difficult to be submissive.
“Get the fuck off of her.” I refused to let my Foxy die in the hands of a masked-coward, so I pushed out from the table and then leapt in their direction. With a deep-desperation to defend and save my love, I launched at Lena’s attacker. A hint of relief gleamed from her eyes when I stood at arms-length from my Foxy. Success thumped in my chest—until two calloused-covered hands dug deep-ragged fingernails into my arms. My neck jerked from a blinding-pain as a dominant-force yanked me in the opposite direction of my love.
“Stay the fuck down, Pussy.” A violent slap crashed against my head; and my hope of saving Lena, collapsed like an abused animal. Overgrown fingernails dug into my scalp as my face slammed against the table. A deafening-bell rang in my ear while an excruciating pain increased. I had promised myself that no matter what we experienced . . . I wouldn’t cry.
However, in that moment, my soul cracked and shattered as I defenselessly endured a prolonged lapse of brutal abuse. When he grew tired of hurting me, he pushed me against the table and left me to sulk as my broken soul bled from my eyes.
“What the heeell are y’all doin’?” I peeked from my folded arms to see a strangely fabulous person, leaning at the entrance of the room.
Her emerald cocktail dress and black feathered boa sparkled like a bejeweled oasis, and then her masculine features immediately caught my focus. She stood as tall as any Amazonian, dazzling with a jet black wig. Of course, her Adam’s apple couldn’t be ignored.
“Don’t y’all dare manhandle my Dolls,” she scolded, flicking her boa in their direction, as if
to cast them away from us. Her impressive platform heels clunked against the floor as she marched toward the camo crew. Lena smirked with glee when our glitzy savior bitch-slapped each of the camo jerks; then the camo bastards rubbed at their faces like punished children.
The camo giant voiced, as he fled towards the door, “Birdie, you’re lucky you’re Diablo’s twin.”
“You’re lucky I don’t skin ya and leave ya for dead,” she reprimanded them with a long, manicured French-tip fingernail.
Birdie stood before us as a regal and angelic liberator. She could put any drag-queen to shame because she defined fa-bu-lous: plunging V-neck, which housed ample cutlets; and her flawless makeup made her dazzle like a Vegas showgirl. Birdie quickly became the support-system we desperately needed to survive our exploitation nightmare. A smile painfully spread across my lips as I gawked in amazement at her glittery dress and fishnet covered legs, which peeked from a ridiculously long dress slit.
In that moment, I relaxed enough that I could ignore my desire to smoke. She provided a pleasant distraction, but we couldn’t disregard her affiliation to our captors.
“All right, my dolls . . .” Birdie pulled a glittered cigarette tin from a concealed pocket within her cocktail dress. After she returned her cig tin to her pocket, she revealed a pink lighter from a different pocket.
With a lit cigarette at her lips, she said, “Awe, babies—” She shook her head in distaste and crossed one arm over the other.
“Well, we’ll just have to get y’all super-spruced for your dates, huh?” She puffed at her self-rolled stick one last time before she handed it over to me. Lena and FZG gasped and stared in disbelief as I reached for Birdie’s cig.
“Thank you,” I huffed out as a tropical and familiar scent bellowed from my lips.
My stoner brain twitched with glee as luscious waves of bud caressed and fondled my neglected brain. A sultry warmth hummed from my skin. My eyes dazed and I mellowed out to a chill’lax state of mind.
Fuck! That shit had hit me quick.
“Look here, Dolls—y’all might as well hit this or today will be the longest day of your lives.” Birdie puckered up her heart-shaped lips while she shook her head from side-to-side.
We puffed on Birdie’s joint while she confirmed that she indeed held a sisterly twin bond with El Diablo. “I’m the nicer and fabulous twin—as you can see.” She snapped her fingers and jerked her head in a matter-of-fact motion. Her joking demeanor gave a mild-distraction to what would come.
Between the six of us, we finished Birdie’s lady-cig-lengthened joint of mellowness. With delight, I glanced and noticed each of the girls’ buzzed expressions.
“Thanks for that.” Most of us repeated, as we followed Birdie to a different room in the endless basement of horrors.
More cantaloupe walls greeted us, but instead, our primping room had a similar feel to The Clubhouse’s dancers’ dressing room: bright-white Showbiz lights framed mirrors that joined with six white vanities. We five blazed piglets, dazed at the glamour-filled room that housed costumes and more makeup than I’d ever need in my entire life.
“Now—y’all go on into the bathroom and fix yourselves up real pretty. You have some dates to please.” Birdie puffed on a long bud cig as she stretched her legs onto a blue plush-velvet chaise.
“G and Z, y’all come with me.” Fi smirked and wiggled her eyebrows at her cousins as she waved them towards the restroom. Gia and Zora did as their leader asked because they had an amorous devotion for her. She could have been a bitch to them, and they would still do as she ordered.
Lena and I gaped as Fi grabbed at Gia and Zora’s asses until they reached the bathroom door. I always questioned their strange cousin bond: it just never seemed that cousinly. Their relationship had a strong similarity to what I had with Lena. My assumptions had been confirmed on our first night in Hell’s brothel: I had been startled awake by their lustful moans and lip-smacking.
“Ha. Looks like they’re gonna have some fun before their dates,” Birdie spat out as she choked on a dense puff of smoke.
“Y’all come sit with ol’ Birdie.” She waved us over to join her on her chaise.
“Here.” Again, she offered her bud cig.
My high intensified while the bright-cantaloupe paint produced a warmth that beamed a ray of sunlight, and a strange tranquility buzzed from within me.
“Dolls, turn ‘em glum-faces into cheerful smiles—y’all are sexy. That 30k will be paid in no time. Just stay cooperative and y’all will be free in a flash,” Birdie rambled on as she scratched at her scalp. Lena and I grinned in a high-stance while Birdie lit another bud cig.
“Listen good: y’all need to fuck for your freedom—ya hear me? Your pussy is your ticket out of here . . . I know how difficult this experience is for y’all. But sugars, y’all have to make due—use your goodies to set you free.” Her lips puckered up as she stared and shook her head from side-to-side until her wig shifted from its spot.
“Damn, y’all—my damn hair is all over the damn place. Why ain’t y’all tell me?” She rushed the cig into my face and then adjusted her wig.
Lena gazed at the cig in between my fingers, and I knew she wanted it. But her eyes had become so glazed that her dazed stare resembled the expression she’d often get when she should just tap-out.
“You sure you want any more?” I choked as the smoke singed at my throat. “I probably shouldn’t.” She stretched her legs and arms as she stood.
“Damn,” she mumbled as she awkwardly side-stepped until her hands rubbed pleasure against my shoulders.
“You’re all knotted up, babe,” she huffed, massaging at my shoulder blades.
“Well . . . I’m not exactly relaxed.” I leaned into her chest, enjoying her tender arms wrapped around my neck.
With the bud Birdie shared, I achieved a needed high; but it didn’t erase the thoughts of our rape. Lena’s hands rubbed waves of kindness through me. Yet, any moment my mind would relax—the memories of El Diablo’s vicious attack swarmed my thoughts with disgust and filth.
I felt used and tattered.
“Give it to me.” Birdie tilted her chin in my direction.
I inhaled one last puff while mentally promised that I would forget El Diablo’s touch.
“How are you here, Birdie? What’s your role in all of this shit? Did you profit from our sale?” Chatty and uncensored—Lena while high would bug the mess out of most. I nudged her with my elbow, but the glance she gave me said it all. She held it together because she had to, but I knew Lena well: she needed to know the truth or it would have destroyed her.
What El Diablo did to us damaged our soul, but it didn’t destroy us. I glanced up at Lena’s face, and her tear-brimmed eyes caused a profound sympathy to form.
Birdie snapped her manicured fingers and shook her fabulous index finger in Lena’s face. “Honey, I ain’t no human-trafficker. I’m the guide to your freedom. Alls I do, is prep y’all for your dates—really I ain’t no different than you: I’m as trapped as y’all are.”
She wrinkled her brow and said, “Now! How long are those three gonna be in there?”
Birdie waved us off her chaise. “Y’all go and see what the hell’s takin’ ‘em so long.”
Lena gently tugged at my hand and in a glorious-daze, we stumbled until we reached the bathroom door. We stopped when we heard soft, lustful moans, humming through the wooden door. Lena knocked and wiggled on the doorknob; then slid the door open as a fog of shower steam pulled us into the bathroom.
Out of habit, Lena shut the door; and we stood, gawking at the kissing cousins. Through the glass-shower wall, FZG captivated me with a full-and-frontal display. Fi stood proud in the center while Gia knelt and gave praise to Fi’s center. Zora and Fi urged at each other’s lips while their hands roamed free over their smooth, firm bodies.
“We should leave.” In a quick about-face, Lena shifted her attention and blocked my view of the li
ve show. But Birdie’s weed had me at a level that made every moan and hand-to-skin touch seem as if I had been included in FZG’s threesome. Fi noticed me and beckoned us with her index finger.
“No, we’re leaving. Birdie said to get the fuck out.” Lena’s pixie aura of jealousy beamed from her furious eyes. FZG stopped and grabbed nearby towels and then smirked as they left Lena and me alone in the bathroom.
“We get horny when we’re high,” Fi hollered over her shoulder, just as she sealed the door shut.
“That’s so fucked up. What the fuck, O? Why are they acting as if they weren’t raped? I don’t understand why they’re so cool with all of this?” Tears rushed from the corners of Lena’s worried fawn-colored eyes. I leaned in and threaded my arms through hers, tightly gripping at her waist. Her hair smelled different, and her skin felt dry against my lips. Yet, I kissed at her shoulder until she pushed me away.
“I’m not in the mood, O. I just never liked penis or any penis type things—you know that.” She crossed her arms, hugging herself as she stepped away.
I sighed in defeat, raking my fingers through my untamed mane, and offered, “Foxy, everyone handles stress differently. Maybe . . . tending to each other, helps them deal with this fucked up situation. You know? Sitting here sulking about it will only make all of this worse. It effin sucks massive dick—but . . . what can we do?” I reached for her, but she shifted her gaze over my shoulder.
Her eyes dimmed with sorrow as her pain radiated in my direction. I couldn’t force her to be with me, or to relax, so I didn’t pressure her.
“Let’s wash up.” I pointed in the direction of the shower.
She nodded in agreement before I reached to undress her. Lena’s sorrow-filled eyes gazed at me while I gently removed her clothing and then mine. I held her slender hand, guiding her into the shower.
After I turned the shower handle, unlike our communal shower, cold and then warm water cascaded over us while we held a timeless embrace. Once we remembered our pending task, we rushed through our non-porno shower, and then joined FZG in our primping area.
3 Grams: An Addictive Novella Page 5