Rescue Me 10

I was about to be raped again, and I couldn't help but smile.

I don't mean that as a metaphor. I don't mean, "Although being raped is a terrible thing, I've somehow managed to find the funny side after so many times." I mean, I literally couldn't help but smile. I watched him walk in, a chubby guy with thinning brown hair and watery eyes (but a nice suit. The way it was tailored, it hid most of his weight problem and probably set him back a cool grand or so. He had money to throw away on lots of things, not just hookers.) And I smiled. The sexiest smile you could imagine, the smile of a girl who wasn't just into "pay for play", but who wanted him, wanted to see that suit hit the floor and fuck him until he passed out. I rolled my shoulders, letting my breasts jut out just a little, showing off my hard, aroused nipples through the thin purple lingerie. I said, "Hello," in a soft, breathy, kittenish voice. "I'm Sahara. It's nice to meet you."

And inside, like always, I was screaming,

Fuck off! Fuck off and leave me alone, please, I am fucking begging you, just please, they've done something to my mind, I'm not even named Sahara, because nobody's ever named fucking 'Sahara'! I'm Gladys, Gladys Torgeson, and I'm not a fucking hooker!

None of it reached my lips. My muscles didn't even move a twitch out of place from their calculated seduction, any more than they ever did. I'd lost count of how many times I tried to stop myself from having sex with another stranger, how many times I tried to scratch 'HELP' into their backs or blink out 'call the police' in Morse code or take control of my tongue just long enough to say, "save me," but it never worked. Not any of it. I was a prisoner inside my own head, and nobody would ever know.

He looked at me. "It's nice to meet you, too," he said. That's what I heard with my ears. With my mind, I heard,

So if you're not a hooker, Gladys, what are you doing in a brothel?

I shifted position, just enough that he could see the outline of my pussy in my oh-so-slightly damp panties. "Why don't you come over here and have a seat?" I asked.

...the fuck? You--you can hear me?

"Bed's big enough for two."

"Don't mind if I do." He sat down on the bed, close enough that he could probably feel the heat of my body through his clothes.

Of course I can hear you. It's like a fucking icepick in my brain.

I loosened his tie.

Then fucking help me!

I thought, giving him a long, soulful kiss.

Jesus fuck, don't just let me sit there and french you, do something about this!

Two problems with that,

he thought, responding to the kiss while running his fingers up and down my back,

One, it's not easy. They must have a skilled telepath on staff here, maybe more than one, if they did this to you.

His tongue dueled with mine, and as I ran my hands over his clothed body I could feel his cock stiffening inside his suit.

Which means that helping you involves a potential fight.

What do you mean?

I broke the kiss. "God, you're sexy."

You're really not. You could stand to hit the gym, lose about thirty pounds. And stop trying the fucking comb-over, it's not working.

"Why don't you let me help you get some of those clothes off, and we can get to know each other better?"

He shrugged off the jacket, and slid it off the bed to the side.

I know. Hazards of too much good living. I like my creature comforts too much to really sweat off the pounds.

"Sounds good to me," he said.

And let me ask you a question: Do you know how much I paid to be with you tonight?

I undid his buttons, one by one, with my right hand while my left hand massaged his ever-more-exposed chest.

No clue. It's not like they share the take with me, or anything. I never leave this fucking room. I eat a healthy diet to keep my body looking sexy, I exercise, I fuck, I sleep. When I'm not doing that, I stare at the ceiling, blinking.

"You've got a great body, baby. Do you work out?"

I think we've already answered that one. Sorry, I'm on a script.

I realized what I'd just thought.

Why the fuck am I apologizing to you? You're fucking raping me!

He sighed softly as my hands ran over his nipples.

Yes, and I paid a thousand dollars for the privilege of doing so. You're a thousand dollar-an-hour whore, Gladys. Well, you're not, but 'Sahara' is.

I finished undoing the buttons, and he slid the shirt off.

You're probably costing them about twenty dollars a day to keep, and you're making them maybe ten grand a night, maybe more. If I try to take you out of here, they'll try to stop me. And I don't know how powerful they are. That's not a situation I'm looking to get into.

I kissed him again, letting our embrace carry us back into a horizontal position on the bed.

You don't have to take me out of here yourself!

I thought with a mixture of anger, fear, hope, pleading and panic in my mental voice.

Tell somebody! I mean, I know the cops can't help, but...there's got to be someone you can tell! Or just undo this...this whatever, and I'll make my own way out!

I kept running my hands over his chest, tweaking his nipples gently. I'd noticed it turned him on.

You probably wouldn't make it twenty feet out of the room, and you definitely wouldn't make it out of the building.

"Mmm, that's nice. Don't stop." I'd stopped kissing his lips, and was kissing and licking his chest instead.

I don't know that they'd decide it was worth it to go after me for freeing you, but it sure as hell wouldn't help you any.

I would have cried, if I could. "I'll do anything you want me to, lover," I said seductively. My hand was already down by his waist, unbuckling his belt.

Please, I'm begging you. At least, I mean...if you're not going to help me, at least don't...

Ah, yes, well...that's the other problem. A thousand bucks is a thousand bucks. I paid a cool grand for this,

he thought as I unzipped his fly,

and the moral implications aside, 'Sahara' definitely knows what she's doing.

"Mmm, baby..." I said in a half-moan, "look at what I've found." He raised his hips as I pulled his pants off.

You BASTARD! You fucking, worthless, scum-fucking douchebag! You inhuman motherfucking prick! Oh, God, if there is any fucking justice in this world, you will be hit by a motherfucking bus the second you fucking walk out of here! You absolute piece of human shit!

I could probably have gone on all night in that vein, but his next thought stopped me cold.

And as shitty a person as I am, I'm still the only hope you have of ever seeing the outside of this room.

"Ooh, that feels so nice," he said as I slipped my hand into his boxers, and began to fondle his balls.

"Glad you like it, lover," I said, rubbing and stroking and softly kneading his flesh, teasing him for long moments without touching his cock.

...I thought you said you couldn't do it.

I was suddenly petrified. The first hope in...I didn't even know how long I'd been here, it could have been months, it felt like years, but this was the first time I'd ever been able to communicate with anybody, and it might have been tenuous, pathetic hope based on contact with a repulsive shit of a person, but it was still better than no hope at all. I couldn't lose it.

He squirmed on the bed, breathing hard, his cock firmly at attention.

No,

he thought.

I said there were problems involved, and it wasn't a situation I was looking to get into. Well, I didn't say it so much as think it, but you know what I mean.

He wriggled his hips as I slowly pulled down the boxer shorts.

That's not the same thing as thinking it couldn't be done. It'd be tricky. But I think that with some time and effort, maybe a lot of time and effort, I might be able to pull it off.

"Mmmmm...you're so big, baby," I said, finally sliding my hand onto his cock.

Why the fuck do I even bother to say that?

I thought as I heard myself speak.

I mean, come on, it's not like guys don't know how long their dicks are! You're five inches. It's not the worst I've ever seen in this room, but Jesus, if you were really well-hung you wouldn't be going to a hooker! Does any guy ever buy that shit?

No, but it's nice to be complimented.

He bucked his hips up, just a little.

If you're finished insulting my manhood, can we get back to business?

I slowly moved my hand up and down the shaft, taking the tiny bit of pre-cum that was already leaking out of the tip of his dick and working it into the head.

'Business'? What do you mean, 'business', I thought you said...oh, no. Fucking no, please...

He let out a tiny gasp. "Hold on just a moment, baby," I said, rolling away and reaching to a small drawer by the side of the bed. I pulled out a condom, and moved back to his side. I'd tried, in some of my darker moments, to exert just enough influence to tear the rubber--suicide by STD had to beat this life. But my body was always very good at protecting my owners' investment.

Listen,

he thought, as I rolled the condom sensuously over his cock,

I'm taking a pretty considerable risk, here. If these guys turn out to be major players, the stakes can get very high, very fast. There are male prostitutes in this building, too. If I take the risk to get you out of here, I expect compensation. And since you don't have money and I don't need it, compensation means sex. You can either have it with me, or with the next guy who comes in here. And the next, and the next...

"Oh, baby," I said, "I just gotta have that in my mou...gmmmph..." I was grateful to hear my words muffled by his dick. They didn't exactly program me to be a great conversationalist.

What about ethics? Human decency? I'm a prisoner getting raped at least ten times a day, doesn't that stir anything in your soul?

"Oh, yeah. Yeah, like that," he said, tangling his fingers in my hair.

Irritation, I suppose. When I came here, I very specifically asked if the girls were willing, and they told me 'Yes.' Finding out that what they meant to say was, 'No, but they'll act like it,' kind of pisses me off. I'm not exactly a satisfied customer, here.

"Ohhh, fuck..."

You're good at dealing with disappointment, asshole,

I mentally grumbled as I deep-throated him.

So...I go from being their whore to your whore. What are the upsides to that, exactly?

He pressed his hands tightly against the back of my head, forcing me forward until my face was mashed up against his crotch. I could barely breathe.

Duration, for one. I've had personal girls before, and sooner or later, they always bored me. I don't doubt you'll do the same. When I get sick of you, I'll turn you loose. It's a better deal than you've got now.

It's fucking highway robbery, is what it is.

He released me enough that I could start bobbing my head up and down, slobbering over his cock.

You've got me over a fucking barrel, though.

There are fringe benefits.

He let out a loud moan, and I circled my fingers around his balls, pulling just enough to stop him from coming.

Like what?

I thought incredulously.

I'll show you. Here...

"...stop sucking my cock and fuck me." I was surprised, for a moment, to hear him actually say something he meant. But the part of me that was actually controlling my body didn't care why he said it. An order was an order. I let my mouth slide off of him, and changed position to straddle his prone body. I let out a soft, breathy gasp as I dropped down onto his dick, as though I'd never taken anything like that before. Not as bad as 'you're so big, baby', but still obnoxious. I rode his cock, just like I'd done dozens of other times...

But this time, it actually felt...good. Normally, I was just too fucking traumatized to feel anything but shame and humiliation, but something about what he was doing to me, it was actually getting me hot.

It's because I'm mindlinking with you,

he thought as I rolled my hips forward again.

You're feeling everything I'm feeling. My pleasure's leaking into your brain. I'd do that every time we had sex. Like I said, I'm looking for a willing woman, or at least one willing enough. Sex with a girl who doesn't like it is kind of a buzz-kill to a telepath. I don't have enough of an interest in you to take the time and effort to re-orient your core personality into a willing fuckbunny, but I'd rather see you enjoy it than have to put up with you whining every time we have sex.

He was building quickly.

Damn,

I thought.

I really am talented. You're gonna...ohh...you're gonna shoot any second now...

It was getting hard to think, now. For both of us. I had to admire how much discipline he had to send thoughts clearly when he was this close.

You're very talented,

he thought, grunting out loud.

It might be a while before I get sick of this.

"Ohhh," he gasped.

Ohhh,

he thought. I could hear his mind narrowing down into a point, into that spot where all that existed was just that tiny little supernova of pleasure at the tip of his dick, and then he was coming, and I felt the first orgasm I'd had since I walked into this room.

It didn't stop me from shifting position, working his cock with my hands, trying to get him hard again as soon as possible. He'd paid for a full hour, and my body was insisting on giving him his money's worth.

*****

No promises,

he'd thought as he left the room. That was a while ago. I don't know how long; like I said, I don't have any way of telling time, here. I'm just lying on the bed, blinking. I don't know if he's fighting the battle to end all battles against evil telepaths, whether he's winning, losing, negotiating to buy me, being brainwashed into sucking dicks, getting help, having a good laugh with his buddies who run the place about the lies he told me...or fuck, maybe just walking away and forgetting about me. But I have to hope he'll come back. I have to hope that he'll rescue me.

It's shitty hope. But it's better than no hope at all.

THE END