This story has themes of non-consent, kidnapping, sex slavery and other related kinks. If such kinks offend you, please do not read. This story is an act of FICTION and is not meant as any political or cultural statement. It is meant for enjoyment and should never be done in real life.
Most people think they know what rock bottom is, but they don't. Sure, times get tough for them, things look hopeless, but they have no real clue what rock bottom is.
"Margarite, things will get better," I tell myself out loud, but then I laugh. Even saying it sounds stupid.
My boyfriend of the past 4 years cheated on me. That relationship which I spent so much time on is now in the garbage. The best thing I can do to get over it is try not to think how many times he cheated on me and with how many.
Just as that happened, I got fired. They assured me it wasn't because of my work but the company's poor revenue, but in the end it doesn't matter. I got fired and to make it better, they refused to pay me my last paycheck for the hours I already worked.
And to top it all off, my apartment is kicking me out. Not because I didn't pay, but because some inspector found it to be substandard and no one can live there any more per the law. I'll be able to go and get my things, but not sleep there.
I take deep breaths as I walk down the sidewalk. I used to think living in downtown was fun and hip. I mean, what 26-year-old woman wouldn't want to live in the city with all the other young professionals? Everything has here. Only now it feels like the most expensive place to live, in which I know I won't find a new place as I doubt I have enough for the deposit.
I have no other family, well maybe long lost cousins but no one that will help me. And all of my good friends live in different states and have no way of helping me right now. I have no one that is able to help me.
I was told about my apartment this morning. And after that lovely meeting, I went to a bar and had a couple of drinks. That's a lie. I had 15 drinks. But they were over the course of a several hours, so I'm not majorly drunk, just a little drunk.
Since leaving the bar, I've been walking the streets of downtown, trying to think of what to do. Of where to go. Where to sleep. Of how to pick up the pieces of what I used to call my life.
I keep walking, not really looking where I'm going nor caring. Normally I am good about avoiding certain areas of downtown for various reasons; homeless, muggers, etc, but at the moment I could very well be homeless so I better get used to all of the streets.
I just walk, looking forward but not really looking at anything. It's only when I see a bit of graffiti on the ground that I stop. It reads "No hope enters here."
Wait a second, I recognize that graffiti. Where from? I don't know, but I don't think it is anything good.
When I left the bar, I just turned right and just started walking. Following that path in my head, I try to work out where I am since I normally don't go that many blocks outside of my apartment. To help me, I look around at the buildings. It's mostly factory type buildings and warehouses, but most are for sale.
"Oh shit," I say out loud when I finally recognize the area. I knew this area existed, just like I knew that when I left the bar, yet I still walked into it? Fuck me!
Where do I recognize it from? The news. This is "Disappearance Alley." Over a dozen people go missing from here a year, both men and women, of any and all ages. The cops think it's so sort of mob and sex slave thing, but they never find the people nor do they find any clues so they don't know.
Why did I come here? I should have known that turning right at the bar would take me here in time. Why didn't I pay attention? Why didn't I think about where the hell I was going.
With my heart starting to pound, I notice that there's no one around at all. Not to mention everything is as quiet as can be. It's an unnatural quiet too.
I quickly turn around. I'm in the heart of this area so I need to cover a lot of area in a little time to get out of here. But right before I take off to run, in front of me, is a solid shadow.
No, not a solid shadow, but a man in a black suit. A very large man in what looks like an expensive suit. He stands in front of me as if he could block out the sun.
"Put your hands on your head," the man says in a very deep voice. His voice seems to echo around the buildings, or at least that's what it feels like because it echoes in my head.
"I...I'm sorry, what?" I ask, thinking that I misheard him. Most people say 'hello' or 'hey' when they meet a stranger. But to me it sounded like he said for me to put my hands on my head.
"Put your hands on your head, unlike you want to die," the man calmly tells me. I almost burst out laughing as surely he's joking. Only when I see his face, I know he's not joking. His face is ice cold with no emotion at all. Hell, I've seen rocks with more emotion than this human beings.
"O-Ok," I tell him, thinking that he's so huge he could reach out and snap my neck with ease. So, with a shuddering breath, I lift my hands up and put them on top of my head. As I didn't have to dress up for work, I am wearing an old tshirt and blue jeans, not anything that makes me look like I have money.
"I...I don't have any money," I tell the man. That's why he's doing this right? He's robbing me? Surely there's no other reason. Right? Right??
I'm not even sure he hears this as he doesn't react. Instead, he looks at me up and down as if searching for something. Or appraising.
"I am going to say this once. You are going to be sold as a sex-slave. If you don't do as I say, try to run or if annoy me, I will kill you and make sure your body will not be found," he tells me in that emotionless tone.
Never in my life has anyone said anything that scared me more than this. And once I was robbed at gunpoint. When I was robbed, the gun was in my face and the guy yelled 'purse bitch.' But that guy's voice was filled with emotion while this guy's is ice cold. The guy with the gun may not have ever shot anyone, but this guy in front of me has indeed killed people and probably didn't even think about them again.
What do you say to that? It's not a normal thing that would ever come into any conversation. Do I start to beg for him not to? Or try and debate him on why it's a bad idea?
"O-Ok," is what I end up replying with. I start to wonder if this is some sort of alcohol powered hallucination. Normally I just have a glass of wine, but today I had all sorts of spirits. Maybe the combination of all of them has some sort of weird effect on the brain?
"Repeat it back to me so I know you understand," the man says, and crosses his arms as if getting annoyed. When he does this, I notice something about his suit. We are lit by a dim streetlamp so it's not like I can see everything perfectly, but I do notice a bulge on his left side that isn't on the right. That has to be a gun, right? Isn't that where people put them when they are in holsters?
"I-I'm going to be sold as a s-s-sex s-s-slave," I start and something extremely strange happens. My womanhood tingles. It tingles in a manner that makes me start to feel aroused, even if this is the absolute worst time to do so. It's something about saying something that powerful. I mean, that phrase is basically giving up all your control.
"If I run or don't do what you say, you will, will, will....k-kill me," I finish, and once again I feel a powerful tingle down below that seems to shoot in all directions, making my entire body warm. I even feel my face flush in what is by far the most humiliating thing ever for me.
The man doesn't react. He just looks at me for a moment, right in the eyes. And his eyes barely look human. They are the sort of eyes you would like in a creepy painting, where they follow you no matter what. But then he reaches inside his suit coat and pulls out a phone or tablet. He does this fast as otherwise I might have screamed thinking it was a gun.
He looks down at the device and starts to tap away. What scares me just a bit more is that the device doesn't light up his face from the screen. It's dimmed or made to not be very bright, which means he really is a professional. This way no one can really see his face even on camera.
"Remove all your clothes and give me your cell phone," he then orders while tapping on his screen. Again, this is something that is not said in normal conversation. Well my asshole boyfriend said it once, I think, when we were being silly and playing sexual betting games.
Once again, that tingle from below hits me, like a submarine pinging for objects in the ocean. It goes all over my body, bringing that sexual warmth in which you want to change into something that makes your body looks good and sexy.
"O-Ok," I say, not sure what more to say to this, or even do. I take a glance around as we are out in public. This is a freaking street corner! But there's no one around. Why would there be? Just building for sell and trouble here. I was stupid for coming here.
"I have-," I begin to say but he cuts me off, "Spare me any comments about family, pets or whatever waiting for you. I don't want to hear anything from you but the sounds of clothes being removed," he states, not even looking at me.
Damn. He really has done this before, and a lot. I was going to make up a story about a husband and kids, but that went as well as a fart in church. That was my best idea for getting out of this. Hell, it was my only idea.
With no other way to stop this, I reach into my pocket and hand him my cell phone. He casually takes it and puts it in his coat pocket.
