by Sandra Raine
When I walk into the bedroom which was rather small and confined, three things unnerve me straightaway: first, Marx was already in the room, sitting on an antique looking high back chair near the bedroom door. Second, Jeanest was standing dangerously close behind me and I could literally feel the heat off her breath burning into the back of my neck causing the back of my dampened neck hairs to stand on end. And lastly, there were no visible articles of clothing for me to put on - I was completely naked beneath my towel, and worst, defenseless.
Suddenly a collage of bad visions began to flash before my mind of what Marx and Jeanest could very well easily do to me. And while I tried hard not to think of the perverse of my dilemma I couldn't help to not think about anything else. I mean, I was a girl. Stolen. Trafficked. Prostituted. I mean, what else could there be besides that? I mean, it wasn't like I was going to sit down and have tea and social conversation with them. I mean, and it wasn't hard to figure out, that these two monsters obviously had sex on their mind, or else there would be clothes for me to put on.
Jeanest touched my shoulder, and I froze. Then she turned me around and a few tears had accidentally fell from my eyes particularly when she removed the towel from around my body exposing my stark nakedness to both she and Marx. And it was in that moment when it became clear that there would be no point in fighting Jeanest or Marx off. And so I did the only thing I knew how to do: I surrendered. But it didn't take Jeanest long to figure out my plan 'cause she just sighed and shook her head as if the sheer sight of me repulsed her once again. And I couldn't have been any farther from the truth 'cause she took a step back and focused her frustration on Marx.
"Are they fucking serious?" Jeanest scowled, stealing a full length glance of me before settling it back on Marx.
Marx shrugged his shoulders the least bit interested in Jeanest's opinion. "She's still a fuck. Regardless."
"I cannot pass her off as virgin, Marx. Fucking clients will skin me alive."
"Maybe this is a conversation you should be having with Parker."
"And what?" Jeanest scoffed. "Have him bury my ass in the desert somewhere!? I'd rather not. Thank you."
"Parker is going to want to see some revenue on her."
"So what do you propose? I mean, it's obvious she isn't ten, or twelve. . .fourteen."
"Parade her as hired help. Have her wear something revealing. Maybe it'll stir your clients for business."
"She's not a fucking cocktail waitress, Marx!"
"And she's not fucking twelve either, Jeanest! So I'd say you're shit out of luck. Wouldn't you agree?" With that said, Marx got up from his seat and crossed to me. And instead of tensing up by his semi-towering and brawny presence choking the very little space between us, I instead kept to my defenses and remained submissive. And I could very well see that I sparked some sort of interest in his eyes 'cause they were literally on fire; burning with this ache to have his way with me. And for the first time, I wasn't scared. . .not of him.
"Leave." Marx then grunted to Jeanest. And without arguing, Jeanest left the bedroom, leaving me completely alone with Marx who looked like he was just seconds away from tearing me apart.
"You still look virgin to me, Diamond." Marx crooned sounded somewhat pleasured just by saying that name: "Diamond". A name I hadn't heard in, and what felt like, an eternity. Suddenly I was reminded of my past, of who I was, of who I was forced to be, and instead of bringing me comfort 'cause of the experience I had gained from it, the name instead brought me mass heartache and shame. I lowered my gaze from Marx's, sniffling back a few tears.
"I'm not going to hurt you, Diamond," Marx comforted as his anxious hands ran up and down both my arms. And instead of adding additional insult to injury - 'cause in the end they all somehow managed to do just that - Marx forced me down gently onto the bed and settling himself just above me. For a second there he actually looked like he was going to kiss me the way lover's kissed considering how close his mouth was to mine and how his russet blue eyes penetrated my baby brown ones. And for a second there my heart actually fluttered kind of like the way Dominic used to make my heart flutter before he became my pimp.
"So I'm going to do something other greedy assholes wouldn't do. . .I'm going to let you put me inside you. I'm going to let you show me how you want to be fucked. After that, you mind your business and let me concentrate."
I guess the first rule to any amount of pain is relaxing. . .And that's what I conditioned my body to do when I reached for the button on Marx's jeans and cautiously pulled his member out which felt dominant and soft in my hands. And 'cause he was already excited, erect, it was easy to guide him inside me. Despite his bulging mass which in the past always caused me more suffering than withstanding; Marx's cock was easily tolerable. I had only flinched a couple of times beneath him when I felt him slide deeper into me but the more I started to relax the more my vagina accepted him.
Once Marx was fully inside me, and I was now comfortable in my position beneath him, Marx's body began to rhythm against mine. And respecting his wishes on allowing him to concentrate, I minded my own business and looked away toward the bedroom wall decorated in blue stripe and violet floral wallpaper which I found strikingly odd for a teenage brothel.
Marx grunted, and I shifted my attention back onto him. I figured he was in the early throes of climaxing 'cause he grunted a few more times after that. And instead of turning my attention back to the odd wallpaper, I instead focused my attention on Marx, placing both my hands on his rigid shoulders; a gesture to let him know I was okay with him fucking me. But Marx must've found my kind gesture offensive 'cause he stopped fucking me to stare down at me. He looked confused. And to avoid confrontation, perhaps a good solid slap to my face, I quickly dropped my arms back down to my sides and froze.
"Damn it!" Marx belched, reaching down suddenly and into the front pocket of his jeans where, to my surprise, he pulled out his cell. "What?!" he then bitched into the receiver. "Are you fucking serious?" he then said, softening his bitter tone some. "Yeah. I'm on it." Marx hung up his cell, jumped off me, buttoning up his jeans while I quickly sat up tugging the damp towel to my body, partially relieved that I wasn't in trouble as I had suspected I was.
I was sure Marx was going to say something to me about why he was leaving but he just walked out of the bedroom, and then I remembered that I wasn't partial to him or to any man for that matter. I mean, I was just a prostitute. I was supposed to be mechanical. I wasn't supposed to think about stuff like that. . .not about Marx who started to confuse me 'cause, and I don't know, I was starting to like him despite his raw demeanor which reminded me of both Dominic and Justin. Odd, that they would actually cross my mind like that which had me wondering if I was suppressing some kind of emotional feelings for them - like love - to even think about them in this unconventional manner?
A minute later, Jeanest walked back into the bedroom pulling me from my thoughts. She was carrying, and what appeared to be, a school girl's uniform complete with thigh high white stockings and black penny loafers.
"Put this outfit on," Jeanest demanded, laying my outfit out on the bed neatly like if she was my nanny getting me ready for school. "I want you dressed exactly like a school girl; pigtails and lip gloss." she then ordered, shoving a brush, a couple of hair ties and a tube of lip gloss into my hands. "When you're done, stand outside with your back against the door and wait. Don't move. Don't talk to the others. One of us will come and get you. You got that, girl?" I held my breath, my rage and nodded. As soon as Jeanest walked out of the bedroom, I slammed the brush, the hair ties and the lip gloss onto the floor and then picked up the uniform from off the bed and tossed them across the room. In a fit of tears, I rushed to the bedroom window and yanked back the curtains. And instead of being met with some form of salvation, I was again met with cross bars and black painted windows - no escape. My legs finally gave way from beneath me with my body slowly slumping toward the floor.
Chapter 9
De
spite my fit, my adamancy, I was dressed and standing outside the bedroom with my back against the door just as Jeanest ordered for me to be. And 'cause I was facing the bathroom door instead of a bedroom door I didn't grab wind of the other four girls already standing in front of their doors until one of them sniffled had I then turned and glanced in her direction.
She was a light skinned black girl. About eleven, twelve. It looked like she was battling a cold 'cause she kept sniffling, not really making any noise or any effort of showing grief or emotion toward her dilemma. In fact, she looked, prostitutionalized. The girl standing partially caddy corner from her, was white. She, too, looked around eleven or twelve. And like the black girl, she, too, harbored no grief or emotion for her dilemma.
To my right, there were two other girls, also white, with one looking more fairer than the other. Only one looked much younger than the other girls and myself. This one was dainty, almost fragile like. She, unlike the others, did look in my direction, and she looked scared shitless; she was the only one visibly trembling in her own skin.
A much older and heavy set woman eventually made her appearance from down the hall. She doesn't acknowledge any of us, she just demands, "Come!". And like good little Catholic looking school girls, we fall in line, one behind the other and follow the woman back down the hall, past the open room and down the stairs, all the while my gut feeling like it was ready to burst any second from the anxiety that seemed to just suddenly flush through me the second the woman came into view. And I really didn't know why I was feeling such emotion considering that I wasn't exactly "virgin" to this business; that I almost knew it front to back with my eyes closed and blindfolded. I mean, I was feeling exactly like that last little girl was feeling. . .trembling in my own skin. Maybe, and perhaps, it was the idea that I had tasted freedom on my own terms, and then, just like that, it was snatched up from me. And perhaps that part of me wasn't ready to let go, or except the fact that this could possibly be it. . .That I could be in this life for the rest of my life. And that alone scared me shitless - not being free.
We were lead into a more private, yet spacious room which I presumed was a den or a family room; nowhere near the room I was first introduced to that dyke looking woman who to my surprise was nowhere to be seen. But to my utter surprise, I did notice there were other girls aside from the group I came in with. There was now a total of ten of us. The other group of girls were also dressed in school girl garb, and they had additional companions: two men and one woman. They were hovering nearby, more toward the entrance, their eyes constantly on their stock.
We were all seated neatly - like statues - on two separate sectionals that surrounded a huge clearing in the center. And there were quite a few oversize pillows adorning the clearing as well as the sectionals. And this scene alone reminded me of Abel's Hell; how us girls were always having sex in the open, never in a room alone with a man or a group of men. I found it quite odd but considering that this business was also in conjunction with Parker's; to expect anything else seemed pointless.
The heavy set woman said something to the other woman who was quite small for her maturity but clearly matched the heavy set woman's age. They, too, spoke in foreign tongues to one another. I figured they were gossiping 'cause occasionally they would chuckle, and the two men, which were obviously a lot older than Marx, would occasionally chuckle, too. This went on for about a good twenty minutes, give or take, until the first of quite a few men and a couple of women started to show up.
It was moments, such as this one, when I wished to be back alone in my darkness, dazed and groggy with no one bothering me or trying to put their hands on me. . .And a few men did put their hands on me; touching me, stroking me, fondling me in all areas that I once held sacred. And I tolerated these men very easily 'cause I showed no resistance; I was relaxed, pretending to be dazed and groggy as before the way Marx and his men had me for the last month. But it was the other girls I felt so much pity for. Seeing that they were younger, and more virgin looking, they were literally being treated like cattle, barely caught, fresh 'cause the men and those two women just couldn't seem to get enough of their sex.
For the next hour, I literally watched in horror as the girls were felt upon, kissed upon, fondled upon then stripped of their clothes, of their dignity while various naked men performed lewd sex acts on them, in them; the scene was like one big fucking orgy, and it disgusted me something awful that I could feel the bile rising heavy in my throat 'cause I couldn't protect these little girls having to fornicate for these so called "clients" with their bodies, their hands and their mouths while the men and the women praised in satisfaction, petting the girls on their heads like they were fucking house pets for doing good deeds and doing what they were told when told despite the girls showing various signs of restraint and tears. . .God those fucking tears. . .like flowing rivers, endless, streaming down their innocent faces particularly when they were penetrated orally, vaginally, anally. . .and sometimes by not one man, but two. . .GOD! my mind screamed over and over and over. . .until finally someone took pity, and not on the girls, but on me: Jeanest had suddenly appeared and from out of nowhere, summoning me to her urgently, and I quickly obliged, leaving the man who was touching me with no other choice but to focus on another girl.
I was extremely nervous as I crossed to Jeanest. And when I finally reached her, she grabbed my arm and led me into the living room where three men in costly suits and looking well into their forties, sat quietly, each sipping on a drink. Before I could begin to ingest what was going to become of me in that instant 'cause, and with Bree's dilemma, it didn't take a genius to figure out why these men were here, Jeanest instead interrupted my train of observation thus throwing me completely off guard.
"This is Diamond," Jeanest introduced proudly, fluffing my pigtails as if I were her number one brother girl. "She's seventeen. She's the only eldest girl I have on hand for tonight. I'm sure I can acquire a few more in the coming days - "
"She'll do," one of the men said suddenly, settling his drink aside before giving Jeanest and me his undivided attention. "Will there be a room provided?" he then asked, leaving Jeanest to scrunch her forehead.
"This isn't exactly a traditional brothel, Mr. Sims - "
"Well, I'm looking to get traditionally laid, Miss Jeanest. I'm not here to participate aside your foolish kiddy orgies."
"I conquer," one of the other men contended, also settling his drink aside, placing one casual leg over another. "Mr. Parker should be embarrassed by his business tactics. Wouldn't you agree?"
Jeanest cleared her throat. "I just work for Mr. Parker."
"Well I'm sure your wage isn't minimal, now is it?"
"No. It is not."
"In fact, it's very comfortable, wouldn't you agree?" the man urged leaving Jeanest to purse her lips and nod. "So there is expense for rules to be bended. Yes? I mean, it's not like Mr. Parker is living right across the street now, yes?"
Again, Jeanest cleared her throat. "Yes." she said, and not to willingly.
"'Yes', to what?"
"I can bend the rules. And Mr. Parker is many miles away."
"Glad we were able to come to an agreement. Sims, I have a New Year's party to attend to with my wife in a couple of hours."
"Mine is on vacation. I can wait."
"Good." said the casual man, rising casually from his seat. He then picked up his drink and casually crossed to me. He was tall, slightly built. And devilishly handsome. And like Marx, he, too, had a fire in his eyes and a hungered thirst lingering on his clean shaven face. "Shall we, Doll," he then smiled leaving me to look to Jeanest for some kind of guidance.
Jeanest stiffened a smile and nodded sternly. "Show him to your room."
Chapter 10
For the second time in my life I'm forced into prostitution.
And I didn't know who to be pissed off with first: myself or my father? Myself, for not being strong enough and fighting for my dignity? Or my father, Viktor for not bei
ng able to protect me?
After the third man left me, Jeanest then walked into the bedroom looking slightly more relaxed than earlier before. And it was obvious that despite my maturity I was still able to make money for Andrew Parker. And my new, yet old life began with Howard, the one who preceded Mr. Sims.
"The men were pleased with you," Jeanest had the nerve to say to me after my first night had passed at the "kiddy brothel" - something I dubbed in sarcasm, no thanks to Mr. Sims' sarcastic tongue. Once she closed the bedroom door behind her she then proceeded to walk over to the closet producing a set of keys from her front trouser. "There are clothes in here that you can use when you're not working," she then had the second nerve to say to me as she unlocked the closet door then opening it for me to take a glimpse inside. And I couldn't help but to shiver in my very skin after hearing Jeanest's use of the word "working" as that, too, along with "Diamond" brought back a lot of heartache and shame.
"And when I am. . .working?" I dared to ask when I noticed that the closet was housing nothing but street clothes and a few tennis shoes but no dresses or heels. Instead of Jeanest getting upset with me for speaking when I wasn't permitted to, she smirked amusingly 'cause she must've heard the obvious concern in my tone.
"A bra and panties. I don't see the point of you dressing up really especially when you're not going to be paraded publicly in front of potential clients. Come to think about it, you won't be working along side the other girls. You'll be working strictly out of this room. You will make yourself available at all times, day or night unless something changes. You can have free roam of the bathrooms, the kitchen and the laundry room only; if you're caught in any other room except those rooms, I will beat you. And if you dare make a run for it I will kill you. Understand, Diamond, I am fair. . .unless you piss me off."
So in order to avoid pissing Jeanest off, I figured I would just simply avoid her.
