Sharon
“We have to get out of here!” The crying girl insisted.
“Will you shut up already?” one of the pretty girls said—a redhead—shooting daggers from her perfectly made-up eyes.
“What?” the crying girl asked, her eyes popping open and mimicking the surprise Sharon felt. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” the redhead girl snapped. “That all you’ve done is bitch this entire time and it’s getting on everybody’s nerves.”
Crying girl squinted at her through her runny eyeliner and clumpy mascara. “Getting on everybody’s nerves? We’ve just been kidnapped by men who intend to sell us. Are you trying to tell me you’re just okay with that?”
“This is my fourth sell-back,” the girl explained. “You get used to it.”
Baffled, the crying girl looked to the other coolly composed girl.
She just gave a little nod. “This is my third. Look, don’t worry. You’re pretty. Somebody is gonna pay for you.”
“Believe me, you’re wasting your time if you think you’re going to escape,” the redhead added. “You heard what he said, they’ll put you to work on the streets if they catch you. But don’t think they won’t want to break you first. Really, it’s easier to just go with it.”
“Why are you getting sold back?” Sharon asked tentatively, surprised by the foggy grumble in her voice. “This time, I mean.”
Sharon was blown away by the girl’s casual tone.
She reached into her bra, angry red tape marks crisscrossing her slender forearm and pulled out a tiny plastic bag of white powder.
She scooped out some the powder with her long, manicured pinky fingernail and snorted it. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. When she opened them, her face settled into a pleasant expression.
Sharon was sad for the redhead that had clearly accepted that this was how she to spend her life. High, out of her mind, getting sold from owner to owner, never finding love, happiness or fulfillment in life.
Oh god, Sharon thought. Is that what’s going to happen to me?
“What… what do they, um, buy you for?” Sharon asked, dreading the answer.
The redhead giggled, the pupils of her pretty hazel eyes dilating. “To fuck, what else?”
Sharon’s stomach officially couldn’t drop any further. “Well, what if I’m a… uh… virgin?” she stammered, her voice shaking with equal parts terror and embarrassment.
The girl laughed harder. “Don’t let them find out.” With that statement, she peeled off the straps of her little dress and wriggled out of the shimmering, body-hugging material.
Sharon stared at the girl’s body, with its slender limbs and small breasts tightly hugged by a bra that seemed to be made entirely of lace. She wanted to cover herself, despite still being clothed. Well hey, she thought, maybe no one will buy me since I don’t look like a supermodel or this girl.
“Why shouldn’t I let them find out?” she asked.
“Virgins are a hot commodity here,” the girl said, fluffing her hair and preening in the full-length mirror. “They’re rare, they’re tight and they’re just begging for one these bastards to ruin. You might just be tonight’s bestseller.”
Sharon was speechless.
The crying girl had been listening to the whole exchange through wide, unbelieving eyes finally spoke up. “This is insane! Are we really just going to sit here and—”
Before she could finish, the other sell-back spoke up. “Yes, yes we are.” She was blunt, unsmiling, clearly not as excited about the process as her veteran counterpart. “Do you know what they do to break you for work on the streets? Do you have any idea how much worse this can get?”
The crying girl stared back in disbelief, seemingly unable to find words.
“Yeah, I thought so.” the girl nodded, full of spite. She untied the straps holding up her halter dress and stepped out of it. The airy fabric drifted to the floor and pooled around her stiletto-clad feet. She had big, full breasts with pert, dark nipples straining against a prison of sheer mesh.