Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 It's all fictional; keep it in your head.  It's a slow start.  I'm going to
try to pick things up with the second half



   The bed was an old foam mattress, covered by a black sheet.  The room
smelled of an on going ashtray.  The clothing that set in a chair to the
far left was piled with clothing, when I investigated --they too reeked of
cigeratte.  Great my master is a fucking smoker, yum.  I started to dig
through the clothes --- none of which were conservative.  I fretted looking
down at my body; I wasn't the most 'fit' for any of this.  I was about 124,
I wore a size seven.  This stuff looked the size of a 4 and the girl must
have huge tits.  I glared of course.

   "Hopefully I'll be returned then." I pressed my hand to my charm.  I was
abducted about seven months ago.  I was sold a few months ago,and last
night I was handed over to some guy named Paul.  It was me or their money,
and they preferred to have kept their money, so I was thrown in the back of
their van.  This wasn't how I preferred living.

   I looked through the clothing, what I had on was ragged now from being
tossed around person to person.  No one's fucked me -- which I wasn't
prepared for.  I am one of those that aren't very social.  How i was caught
in this mess was I was coming out of a coffee shop that stayed open late,
where I had parked my car the streetlights had burnt out.  I didn't know
anyone, and I'm too shy to have asked for help.  Next thing I had remember
was waking up in the back of a van with a creepy guy smelling of too much
cologne.

   I was tossed into this room, told to "clean up" and dress.  I picked out
the most conservative outfit i found.  A pink teddy, it was netted, and you
couldn't see anything.  I thought that was suitably.

   There was a mirror, and a hairbrush.  I raced after that hairbrush like
it was the golden ticked to willa wonka factory.  My hair hadn't been
brushed, they never let me around anything that was a potetional weapon.  I
combed out the rats nest that had collected.  My hair was blonde, not the
goldie locks blonde, just your every day blonde.  Which I loved, because
during the summer it would fade in the sunlight becoming bright.  I usually
chopped it up into a pixie cut, but I had been short on cash for awhile, so
it was now settling towards the end of my shoulders.

   My knees began to cramp up, so I decided to stretch, in this weird nylon
like material, it was uncomfortable as it scratched my skin.  But I
preferred being tiptop shape incase I had a chance of running.  I looked
around the room, gravely disappointed.  No windows.  No nothin, not even a
secret store-way I could hide in.  (Yes I had looked behind the bookshelf).

   No one ever tells you that when you're being abducted, that you're being
sold into slavery.  Well, if they did they never had told me.  Though I
never had any intentions of being abducted.  The hours flew by -- or were
were snailing along.  I really couldn't tell you.  I began to get sleepy,
so I fell tucked myself into a ball at the edge of the bed.

   I was awaken rudely by a man screaming at the door for the girl with the
dirty hair to wake up.  I fought the urge to scream obscenities -- he
startled me-- I had forgotten where I was.  That sinking feeling re-emerged
as I slid off the bed.  If I don't answer he'll rush in here thinking I've
killed myself or some shit.

   "Yes?" I squeeked.

   "What the fucks the matter with you?" he yelled at me, "Didn't you
fucking hear me stupid bitch?"

   "I was asleep." I countered, he started rattling at the door.  I rushed
to open it.  He growled towards me and I hurried back.

   "What the fuck is that?" I could smell alcohol on his breath.  Was he
one of my "clients" and no one told me?  Did I now have clients?  I was
surely not being paid, so could he be called "client"?  My stomach knotted,
my head was pounding I was trying to think away from this place.  Somewhere
nice, where the clients were your pay check...

   "I was told to get dressed, so I dressed." I murmured, rubbing my arm
nervously.  He stepped over to the chair, digging around he tossed me
something.  I looked at it carefully it looked like two old pieces of
cloth. "What is this?"

   "You're new outfit." He snarked, "You dress now."

   I didn't reply.  I stood there waiting.  I don't know why I thought he
would be kind enough to leave the room.  I heard him grumbling something I
couldn't understand.  I quickly pulled off the outfit I picked, replacing
it with his.  I didn't quite get how to put it on.  So I felt stupid
standing there, with my small chest, I could barely keep it up.  All he did
was make this throaty laugh.

   "You have very small tits." He mused, as if I had never noticed, "It'll
be OK.  We don't really care about your tits."

   To that he opened the door and gestered me to follow him.  So I did. 
The hallway was painted beige, the lights were dimmed, there wasn't anyone
in the hallways.  The place had no noise.  This made my stomach lerched, I
feared it was Underground.  Meaning, I should simply lose all hope now and
give up.  Well, that's what I thought the beige walls were telling me as we
walked.

   Every couple of feet there were doors.  I wondered if behind every door
there was a girl like me.  Scared, lost, confused.  Knowing that no one was
ever going to find us.  Were they young like me?  Were they younger than
me? Did their families miss them?  surely their families missed them.  I
prayed my family was missing me...

   "Why do you have me?" I asked the man I was walking in front of.  I
slightly turned, looking at his face.  He was a white man with a tan line
across his nose.  If he was allowing me to see his face it meant he was
certain I couldn't escape.  His hair was cut short, curly, almost frizzy.
He had no facial hair, large nose.  His eyes were hazel, they were large
but he squinted at me gravely.  He had no intentions of answering my
questions.  Which I was fine with, I really didn't want the answer.

   God just let me live until I can hug my mom.  My mom.  She was a hard
ass working machine.  She was a nurse at the busiest hospital in my town,
as it was the only hospital in our town.  She was one of the few people I
looked up to.  She never gave up when there was an obstacle setting before
her.  And here I walked, only months into my capture giving all hope of
return.  Still just fucking stupid.  My fucking word, can they not see I've
hardly any value??  I'm just a fucking teenager.  I started college last
fall.

   "You have this room to bathe in.  Don't undress." He stated as he opened
the door, there was a single shower.  He leaned over and turned it on.  I
walked into the shower.  "Wash your hair" And I did.



   The shampoo bothered me, it smelled musky, and of strawberries.  Like
someone just poured different bottles of shampoo in.  Ewww.



   I rinsed my hair out, standing there while I waited for him to say
something.  I was soppig wet, I was standing under the water for over
thirty minutes.

   "Now.  stand over here.Girl." His voice gave me a headache.  " What is
your name?"

   "Daniella".  He worked the name over in his head.  He simply stood
there. I was shivering as the air conditioning came on --maybe not so
underground?

   "Daniella, My name is Mark." He cracked his first smile, "Do you know
why you're here?"



   "No.  That's why I asked." I mumbled looking away from him.

   "Are you a virgin?"

   "Yes.  " I blushed.  I have never been asked that question.  No one
really talks to me, so this really is the most conversation I have had.  I
usually concentrate on my studies....

   "Good!" He clapped his hands.  "Well, let's go."

   ---------------------------------------------------------------

   The building was like a never ending hallway of beige and dim lights. 
My legs were wearing low.  We only had stopped that one time for the
shower, I was quickly drying off.  The room he walked me into was a room
with another man and a bed.  Wonderful.  Walk me to death to get screwed.

   He was older, but not by much.  He wore a blue suit which I didn't
picture my predator as a man well groomed as he was.  His eyes sparkled as
he watched me.

   "No tits?" Pouted the man to the guy who calls himself Mark.

   "If you wanted tits, why didn't you just grab someone else?" I was
answered with both men laughing, heartily.  I was embarassed.  I stepped
back, and waited for them to say or hit me or something cruel.

   "I fancy the younger ones with breast." the suited man answered finally,
"But our business has been slow in the past few years."

   "Business?"

   "See we're in the business of trafficking the most obedient girls to our
best clients." he smiled stepping away from his desk.  I wanted to run, but
where to?  I fought the urge to look over at the door.  "Most go for
petite. And you fit petite.  You could snuggle with our favourites who
enjoy the fantasies of pedophilia, or something quirky."

   "Are you going to kill me?" I asked, I didn't care what he was saying,
who I was being shipped off to.  I just wanted to survive.

   "We don't kill our merch." He chuckled, "That's bad business, m'dear. 
We keep ours well, well is relative really.  Whatever happens when you
leave us...is well, not our problem."

   "What?  you mean once I'm sold..."

   "Yes, m'dear.  That's life.  Now be a good girl, and follow Mark to the
marketing block of our building.  You have been purchased."

   What the fuck.  I coughed loudly following behind Mark.  He wore a suit
just like the man who just happily told me I was sold.  However his was
kind of tattered, like he found it at the second hand store.  He was
probably not one of the top guys.

   "Why do you work for these people?" I asked the man I was following.  He
didn't slow his pace to turn to answer me.  He never answered me directly.
I expected him to ask ME a question that related to my question that I had
no answer to.  That seemed to be his hang.

   "I get to fuck any of the girls who don't get sold." He shrugged, "It's
a simple job.  I escort the merch, I fuck the merch.  I go home have a
beer, kiss my wife.  Check every friday."

   "You have a wife?"

   "Yep.  Been with her for over twenty years."

   "I don't have a wife, but I have a younger sister." I watched his
reaction -- he flinched.  He quit talking to me for a little while.  I
smiled.

   "How old is she?" He asked after we walked by the .......twentieth
lightbulb.  We finally hit a turn, and then the mundane walk was up again.

   "Why want to go kidnap her too?" I smarted off; he kept his pace.  I was
beginning to believe this place never ended....then we came to two large
bolted doors.  Mark took "keys" and undid the safety bolts.  He waved for
me to follow him.  The sun was bright, I could smell salt, and the sounds
of seagulls.