by DD Prince
“I’ve never seen one, other than on TV a couple times.”
She asked me how I came to be there. I told her what I knew.
She listened and took notes like my story was all the same. And then she did a gynecological exam, which was a little bit painful.
I then had another shower, alone, and watched the blood from my foot go down the drain. I was given a pair of simple grey jersey shorts and a white t-shirt, black thong flip flops, no bra or underwear, and I was put in the bunkbed-filled dormitory with not only the other women I’d come with, but several others. They all looked at me. Mostly with sadness. A few of them had what I can only describe as dead eyes. They weren’t optimistic about their fates. At all.
We were fed dinner of soup, salad, and bread at a long table in the dorm. I then went to bed as the other girls did after orders were barked at us in Spanish.
Ten minutes after the lights went out, a guard came in and I witnessed him rape the girl who spoke English to me. We were both in bottom bunks beside one another and it happened right beside me. I was completely petrified. I didn’t move a muscle the entire time.
His eyes were on me the whole time he did it. Holding her down on her belly, his hand on the back of her neck, pinning her, having sex from behind, slapping her face and shouting at her while looking at me and ramming into her. She cried softly and brokenly into her pillow after that. I quietly cried, too. As quietly as I could. I didn’t want to draw any attention to myself.
The next morning, I woke up to shouting. I opened my eyes and I saw the man in the suit who had brought me there. He spoke low and angrily in Spanish to a group of men who were all standing very near my bunk.
The man in the suit shot the man who raped the girl right in front of all of us. He shot him right in the forehead in front of half a dozen guards who had all lined up to watch.
I let out a scream in shock and then quickly covered my mouth with my hand.
The suited man looked at me a beat and then said something in a sharp tone and they all followed him out. The dead man was left on the floor.
I felt eyes on me.
The English-speaking victim started to whisper in her broken English.
“He kill him for looking at you while he fuck me.”
“What does that mean?” I whispered.
“I don’t know,” she shrugged. ”Anyone can rape anyone but you. Anyone can’t look at you. Ever. Special not while fuck someone else.”
I didn’t know what that meant.
“Thank you for telling me,” I squeezed her hand, “I’m so very sorry he did that to you. Are you okay?”
She shrugged sadly and said, “This is life now.”
That was when Dr. Jimena came in and with two guards, took me up out to the ground level, across the compound to the servants’ building. I trembled like a leaf the entire time, not knowing what was happening, not knowing if I’d be killed, sold, raped, what?
Dr. Jimena deposited me into the small bedroom that became my room until the night of the fire and said, “Be smart, Holly. Be good. Behave. Follow the rules and that’s how this will go best for you. Understand?”
The seriousness on her face, what I’d seen so far? I knew I was somehow lucky to be being taken and put elsewhere. The guard who raped that girl wanted it to be me instead. But because I was off limits, I was still a virgin. And because of that happening, I was separated from the others.
Dr. Jimena put me in the second-floor bedroom with adjoining private bathroom saying, “Their training starts today. Yours does not. For now, you wait. Be good. Listen. Do what you are told and don’t try to get away. Never try to run away or you’ll be killed. Understand?”
I’d nodded, “Are there other girls off limits, too?”
She shook her head, “No.”
Why wasn’t I being trained as a pleasure slave? Was it because I was too young? They had scruples, I supposed? I didn’t know but I counted my blessings. Later that day I met Esmerelda and the man in the suit came back while another man put in the wall intercom.
Today, thinking back to that day, I know I was silly to disobey the rules, to blatantly provoke him.
Would he send me down there as a punishment? Would he decide training could start and then send me to someone else?
***
After sitting in my room for a while, daydreaming about the past, Esmerelda abruptly rises and decides we can go to the pool. I don’t see him at all on our way.
It’s good to be out in the sunshine again. I float, on my back, staring at the sky for a long time, allowing myself to think about my sister, wondering if she’s back from Thailand, wondering if our mom is wondering what happened to me.
I haven’t let myself dwell on thoughts of home for a long time. I thought about my sister daily. She was one of the first thoughts I had every day since being here. But, I never let myself delve too deep, otherwise I would get sad, or anxious. I knew it wasn’t productive and after two years, I’d kind of tried to make peace with where I was and how much worse it could be.
But today, I let myself think about my life and about the people from before here.
Ang would look for me. She would call the police as soon as she knew I was missing. But the trail would have been cold by the time she figured out I was gone. How long would that have taken? How much did she worry? She loved me. She worried about leaving me behind and that was why she tried to arrange for me to be with Gran. She’d feel so bad. I’ve been on this track of thought many, many times since I’ve been here. I know there’s nothing productive about it, but I can’t help but occasionally let my mind go into that loop. That sad, sad loop.
I stare at the clouds a while, floating some more, until Esmerelda tells me it’s time go to back to my room.
***
I wake up in the dead of night, feeling like I’m not alone. I look around me and then turn the light on. There’s no one here. It feels eerie, though, so I decide to leave the lamp on and try to go back to sleep.
It’s a long time of tossing, turning, and I even try to read for a while.
The book has some romance in it and it doesn’t get explicit, but it’s kind of sexually tense and I’ve been picturing Alessandro as the hero, me as the heroine. I can’t help but feel squirmy. I’m almost sure I can smell him. The hero and heroine finally kiss and it’s described so passionately I’m almost squirming. I read the scene again. And a third time.
I put the book down and I turn the light out and then slip my hand into my panties, thinking about the fact that he took my other panties. What did he do with them? Did he touch himself while he held them? Did he rub them on himself?
My fingers graze down there and I think about him rubbing the panties on his nakedness, his face in a sexy expression. His muscles flexing. I feel that I’m slippery between my folds. I’ve had orgasms and I’ve had them picturing him a number of times. The last one I had was a few days ago, before moving to the room I’m now in. It was after I’d watched him stretching, doing some sort of martial arts moves.
His body was shiny with perspiration. He looked like his tanned skin was glistening in the sun. He had a bit more than a five o’clock shadow and his hair was damp with perspiration. He wore a pair of black basketball shorts, socks, and running shoes and I watched the muscles on his arms, abs, and back ripple as he stretched, as he did spinning kicks, as he punched the air.
And then he was doing push-ups. And then pull-ups on a pergola that was near the pool. I was aroused, watching him. I saw his eyes move to me in the window once, maybe even twice.
I’m once again thinking about those images as my fingers glide between my folds. My other hand moves to my breast and I pinch and roll my nipple through my nightgown.
And then it dawns. What if he’s watching me right now? My room is dark so surely, I’m safe, right?
What if he’s standing at that mirror on the other side of the wall? What does he look like naked? What if he’s naked, watching me touch myself, touch
ing himself? Does he still have my little blue panties? A surge of sensation flashes all through me, like a lightning bolt.
I look at the mirror as I climax. I can make out my own form, though the room is dim. My fingers quicken their pace and I rub hard on that knot of nerves and then it goes from happening to huge. I come huge. Bigger than ever.
I know the basics of sex. Angie talked to me about it. I’ve read some romance novels, watched a lot of Rated-R teen movies. I had Sex Ed in school. I saw that girl get raped my first day here.
I haven’t been touched by a man yet but I’m thinking about sex a lot the last few months and even more so since I was moved into his house, close to him, seeing him on a semi-regular basis.
I’ve been touching myself since before I got here. I didn’t do it much in the first few months here but now? Now, I’m doing it just about every day in the shower.
Although I’m under the blankets, my back arches and my mouth opens when I let out a rush of breath and a little “ahh”. I flick the lamp on and look at the mirror.
I chew my thumb nail with nervous energy.
He probably didn’t see me. Or hear me.
I hope.
He might have gone out when I went for that swim and might not even be back yet. Maybe it’s just an ordinary mirror.
Right. Not! I know it’s not, particularly after what happened the other night, but I’m feeling a little panicked so I’m in denial. My room was dark.
It’s fine.
I yawn and sated sexually apparently equals sleepy for me, so I stress another minute or two and then I close my eyes and begin to drift off, snuggling into the pillow, thinking about him.
***
The blankets are yanked off me. I jerk and sit straight up.
“You just changed the game, little flower.”
He’s standing there, at the foot of my bed, and the lights are on, blinding me. But I can still make out the rage on his face. It’s not just rage; it’s something else, too. Pity, or something.
“You did this. Remember that.” He points at me.
“Wh-what?”
“You know what. Don’t play stupid. You flipped a switch and made that ache turn to a throbbing heat that is squeezing my fucking cock around the goddamn clock.”
I’m in a bit of shock. He eyes me up and down.
“I…” I don’t know what to say.
My heart is racing.
“You ready?” He starts undoing his belt. He’s in suit pants and an untucked, half-unbuttoned black tailored shirt. He yanks the belt out of his belt loops and whips the footboard of my bed.
I gasp and pull my feet up. He didn’t come close to hitting me but I want to slink away.
“I didn’t think so. You’re not fucking ready. You’re not ready for me to spread those petals and deflower you. Don’t fucking play dangerous games, little girl.” He climbs up and hovers over me, his nose an inch or two from mine. He’s balancing on his knees, which are on either side of my hips, also on his forearms, which are near my chest.
“You like playing dangerous games, Holly?”
I love the sound of my name on his lips. My eyelashes flutter or something as I feel the vibration of my name in my chest.
“You know I see you. Don’t try to play stupid. And don’t even play. You won’t win. You don’t even know the game you’re trying to play.”
“The light was out,” I stupidly defend.
He’s gritting his teeth, eyes narrow and on me.
“Why am I here? What are you going to do with me? I’ve been here so long and I just… what’s gonna happen? When is it gonna happen? I can’t take not knowing.”
He smiles. But, it’s kind of arrogant. No, not kind of. It’s really arrogant. But then it melts into something else, it’s as if he’s had something cross his mind that he’s disgusted about.
I squirm a little under the heat of him. He’s not touching me but I’m caged and I can feel his body heat. He smells incredible. I feel like my nipples are reaching for him. They’re pebbling, as if I’m cold. I’m not cold. It’s really warm in here and really really warm underneath him.
I suck on my lower lip and blink a couple times.
He snarls at me and backs off. He’s standing at the foot of my bed, glaring at me. He points at me, his face a sinister warning.
He backs up, running his hands through his hair, and then he leaves, switching the light off on his way out. He slams the door and I hear the lock turn.
***
It’s morning. His belt is on my bedroom floor, so I put it on my desk. It almost feels like it’s got an electrical current running through it when I pick it up. I briefly debate hiding it, keeping it, but Esmerelda is there before I get a chance to do that.
When Esmerelda brings my breakfast, her eyes land on it and then move to me, horrified. She doesn’t say anything. But, we exchange looks. She takes it when she goes.
The Truth
Holly
Three Days Later
I’ve been on my best behavior. I haven’t undressed in my room and I haven’t even looked at the mirror intentionally.
I want to get up close again, so I can see those eyes right in front of me again. I want to get up close, so close I can count his long eyelashes and see whether that ring of blue is there or if it’s a mirage. I want to ask him why. Why am I safe? What’s next?
And I know he’s been here. I watched him swim tonight, perched in the window sill, my sketchbook and charcoal in my hand.
And was he ever powerful-looking! Muscular arms slicing across the water in the moonlight, moving so fluidly, water dripping off his tanned and muscular skin as he sailed the length of the pool. And back. And forward. And back. I’ve never seen a man so beautiful before.
Being that I was in high school before I was taken, I’ve been around boys enough to have had some crushes. My sister was boy-crazy and she used to date cute guys and I was fortunate enough to tag-along sometimes.
I was too shy, the shy quiet girl, to do any sort of dating. Never been on a date. Never been kissed. Had some crushes but nothing like this. Nothing even close. Alessandro is on a whole other level beyond crush for me.
I keep daydreaming about when he was hovering over me here in this bed. And every time I do, I feel heat in my face and dampness in my underwear.
I’ve since fantasized repeatedly about him climbing in with me, holding me, kissing me, touching my breasts, putting his hand between my legs, saying things in soft beautiful Spanish in his sexy deep voice while kissing me. I can’t stop thinking about it, but I no longer act on the urge to touch myself. I’m afraid to.
Don’t look in the mirror.
Don’t touch myself.
Try to forget he might be watching.
But, I’m strangely comforted by the fact that he might be watching. It makes me feel like I’m safe. I’m safe as long as I don’t provoke him. He could be watching over me. Keeping me safe. Looking at me. Wanting me.
***
I think I have a good idea of when he’s not home. It’s all based on how Esmerelda acts when she brings my meals, when she comes in to bring things or take things.
Today, I’m pretty sure he’s not here. She’s acting friendly, lingering, chatting with me about the weather, about a book she read and how she thinks the movie is on Netflix and we should watch it together. We’ve never watched a movie together before. She’s never even suggested it.
Come to think of it, she’s never been this chatty before.
She let me stay with her in the kitchen for three hours tonight and she wouldn’t have done that if he were here. I helped her polish some silver and then she hung out in my bedroom with me and we watched that romantic comedy together, in my bed, giggling and eating sweet and salty popcorn and then gorging ourselves on strawberry ice cream.
She’s just left. Before she went, she lingered in the doorway and smiled at me. But it was kind of a weird smile.
“You’re a good girl. You don’t
deserve this. I’m very sorry.”
Before I could react, she left the room, all our dishes and snack paraphernalia in tow. I didn’t dwell on her statement for long. It’s not like she can do anything about my captivity. I don’t know how she’s come to be here, what she thinks of what goes on underground. It’s not likely something we’ll ever be able to discuss.
I’ve gone to my bathroom and gotten ready for bed and now that I’m in bed, I’m thinking about Alessandro.
And since he’s not likely around, I’m pondering taking an extra shower, so I can touch myself. But, then I realize something and it dawns on me in a way that makes me gasp in shock.
I didn’t hear the lock turn when Esmerelda left.
I’ve been down, quiet, sad the past few days, in my head over my encounters with Alessandro, so I’m thinking she felt bad for me and that was why she tried extra hard today to cheer me up. And because of being happy that she succeeded in cheering me up, that’s why she’s forgotten to lock me in.
Unless I’m wrong and just didn’t notice the door locking.
I try the doorknob. It turns. My heart starts hammering harder, almost bruising my chest, but I go anyway; I open the door enough to squeeze out. I’m in the dim hallway and then I’m at the double doors next door. Alessandro’s doors. I open one and step inside, shutting the door behind me.
I’m in the sitting room. It smells like orange furniture polish. The room is lit with a floor lamp beside a dark leather loveseat. Beside it is a dark brown leather recliner that matches. They face the fireplace. There’s no fire burning tonight, which might be another sign that he’s not home. He has a set of iron scrolled double doors with curve tops. I peek out. This is a balcony that overlooks the side of the house. It’s not big. There is a small wrought iron bistro set and some flower pots that burst with color.
I turn my attention back to the room.
There’s a bearskin rug in front of the fireplace and the mantle is bare. There’s a coffee table and the fireplace and to the side, the wall holds a small bar area as well as a sink and small fridge.
I see a sketchbook on the coffee table.
