“I’m afraid it’s too late now, you had your chance and chose the difficult route.” With his free hand he grabbed the collar of her blouse and tore it from her, ripping the cotton and sending buttons flying across the room. He opened both sides to expose her bare stomach and lacy bra.
“Don’t you touch me,” she spat at him. The hateful smile remained on his face, he was enjoying the battle. He placed his free hand just above the knee of the leg he was holding before sliding it over the nylon and under her skirt. His eyes never left hers, daring her to react. His fingers found the answer to his unspoken question. He shared it with his companion. “No underwear, they’re all the same.” Laura felt a pang of shame from his words before telling herself that his opinions meant nothing to her.
Taking the scissors from his pocket he started to cut away the skirt. “I’d avoid struggling if I were you,” he warned her, “we wouldn’t want you damaged.” The scissors were incredibly sharp and easily cut through the material as they sliced their way toward the waistband. Laura kept very still and stared wide eyed as she felt the cold metal against her bare flesh. He cut the remainder of the blouse away before discarding it on the heap of ruined clothes. Snipping through the front of the bra released her breasts to his eager gaze. “Nice.” The man holding her arms chipped in. With only her tights and shoes remaining he put the scissors back in his pocket. She felt his hand grab the sheer nylon and forcefully rip the material away. They carried her to the table, resting her weight there while they removed her shoes and pulled away the remaining nylon. Now completely nude and held down on the table she wondered whether they could see the embarrassing build up of moisture between her legs. “Stay where you are,” he told her before nodding to the other man who then left the room. “You see I told you, same result different route, it’s your choice.”
“Through there there’s a bathroom.” He pointed out the door. “You have fifteen minutes to eat what you want and shower. Choose wisely this time.” With that he left her alone in the room. She heard the lock turn and his footsteps recede down the passageway. She assumed it would be pointless but she tried the door handle anyway–as expected, it was locked. Feeling no inclination to eat she opened the door he had pointed out. The room looked unaltered since Victorian times. Dark green paintwork and off-white tiles, many cracked, an ornate toilet with a high level cistern and an open shower. Drops of water slowly fell from the enormous copper shower head. As she sat on the toilet she considered her options but knew there was only one sensible choice. Resenting the fact that she was conforming to the bully’s wishes, the thought of a refreshing shower did appeal to her. If nothing else she hoped it would somehow cleanse her body of the strangers touch. Turning the stiff, brass wheel started the flow of water. Cold water cascaded from the head and flowed down the iron grating set into the floor. Seeing no way of altering the temperature or starting a flow of hot water Laura had no choice but to endure the icy deluge. The initial shock soon passed and the water even became quite pleasant after a while. The smell of the Coal Tar soap once again brought back childhood memories of Summer holidays with her Grandmother. Laura had to admire their choice, no pleasant feminine fragrance’s, just practicalities. Aware of the passing time she cleaned herself as quickly as possible then used the coarse towel to dry off the freezing water. She had to admit to herself that she felt much better.
Perched on the edge of the table, she had waited only a couple of minutes before she heard noises from the corridor outside. The door opened and her natural reaction was to stand.
The two men returned, one pushing a metal gurney. Straps had been fixed to the stainless steel top. Two in the middle and two at one end. It was obvious from their position what they were designed to hold.
“Lie down,” he said gesturing toward the trolley. Laura failed to move, completely stunned by dreadful thoughts of what they intended to do to her.
Before she could react and avoid it his hand darted out. Grabbing her nipple between forefinger and thumb he twisted violently. The intense pain made her hot and light headed. Attempting to push his hand away only increased the pressure of his grip and the agony rapidly spread through her chest. “Arrrgh.” She screamed, and lifted herself onto her toes in a desperate attempt to ease the pressure. “Please, please, arrgh.” Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks.
Oblivious to her pleading he used the nipple to guide her, forcing her to lie back on the cold, metal surface. The second man pulled her arms away from her chest and fastened them either side of her waist. Moving to the bottom he repeated the process with her ankles, pulling her legs open in order to reach the corners of the wide trolley. As soon as she had been secured he let go of the tortured nipple. Her sobbing continued.
As one held the door wide open the other pushed the trolley out into the passageway. One of the wheels squeaked and the metal rattled as they made their way back to the first room she had been taken to.
41
The room was empty, the only evidence that people had recently been there was the phone, still lying on the table. After wheeling the trolley to the centre of the room one of the men left, returning seconds later with a roll of tape and a pair of scissors. It took no time at all to seal Laura’s mouth and, in her panicked state she found breathing through her nose to be difficult.
“Now stop your pathetic whining.” The cruel words came from the same man who had twisted her nipple.
Left alone, lying on the cold trolley in the damp, musty room Laura felt more alone than she had ever done before. She pulled hard on the straps but there was no give in them at all. Raising her head she looked around the room for any clue as to her whereabouts, she saw nothing. Being the helpless victim at the mercy of strangers had been a popular feature of her fantasies but the reality was so very different. Fantasies had the arousal and the thrill of the situation but not that very real fear.
Voices were getting louder and the click of heels could be heard from the passage. The woman returned with the cruel man. “What do you think?” The woman asked as they walked in.
“She should do well, needs to learn when to shut up though, never bloody stops.”
“We’ll work on that. Right lets have a look.” Standing near to Laura’s feet the woman looked her body up and down before making notes on a clipboard. She moved to the side and leaned in to get a closer look between Laura’s legs. Still not satisfied she reached down and spread the outer lips before pushing two fingers as far as she could into the opening. The anger and embarrassment which surfaced as an incoherent, muffled shout was suppressed behind the tape. Laura’s eyes sprang wide open with the indignity of the violation. “I see what you mean. Spirited isn’t she. A lot of the clients like that though–a challenge.” Removing a tissue from her pocket she wiped her fingers. “Soaking, typical.” She made more notes on her clipboard.
Laura’s breasts were not to be spared either. Following some rough handling the man and woman started to discuss them. The woman asked about the slight bruising to one of the nipples. “She wasn’t keen on getting on the trolley,” was his calm reply. If he needed to ‘persuade’ her to cooperate again, she said, he should use the other nipple to ‘match them up’. The implied threat silenced Laura’s stifled objections. The woman sat at the table to complete her notes.
The sound of more footsteps could be heard outside. The two male voices became clearer as they got closer. Three people entered the room, two men guiding a woman: her head hooded just as Laura’s had been. Judging by her body the woman appeared to be young, perhaps early twenties. Her clothing was formal, maybe she too worked in the city. Her clothing was in disarray, the blouse open and her skirt ripped, showing a dark stocking top. Did she put up more of a fight than Laura had managed?
They held her in front of the woman. “You’re late, any problems?” she asked.
“Left work with a friend. We had to wait until she was alone. All went to plan though.” The man speaking was dark skinned, possibly of Middle Eastern origin. He was well spoken and had the air of a business executive rather than a people trafficker.
“There’s just two of them for tonight,” the woman said, “we sold the third earlier today. Had an offer we couldn’t refuse, as they say. Though she’ll wish we had, she’s being prepared for her new owner. Okay, get this one ready.” They took the girl out, no doubt to the same room and the cold shower.
Left alone again Laura waited, mulling over the new information. They couldn’t be serious, she thought, was she really to be sold to some anonymous stranger. Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of another trolley, pushed by the dark skinned man and followed by the same woman. The sight of the unfortunate woman strapped to the trolley shocked Laura. Her head didn’t move as she stared blankly at the ceiling. She seemed to have no interest in her surroundings or the people around her. The only sound she made was the pitiful and continuous sobbing.
The front of her body and thighs bore the raw marks of a whip or cane. But worse still were the newly completed piercings, so fresh there was still a drop or two of blood seeping from around the metal rings. A large ring decorated each nipple and a third passed through the hood of her clitoris, clearly visible between her open legs. The sight brought home to Laura, the severity of her situation. Thankfully the tape gag prevented her from voicing her horror, and therefore, the possible consequences.
Leave a Reply