Captive! - Part 2


Part 2
by Melanie Brown
Copyright  © 2015 Melanie Brown

Scott struggles to survive as Prissy


“It’s time to change your routine, Prissy!” announced a smiling Mr. Cabot as he walked though my door. I had no way to keep track of time in my small, windowless room, but for a week or so, several times a day, I got a visit and had sex. It wasn’t even forced any longer.

I had started wearing the lingerie they provided for me. I felt the need to cover up as to my dismay and amazement, I was starting to develop actual breasts.

Mr. Cabot dropped his pants and sat on the edge of my bed. He said, “You might even like this over anal since there’s less pain involved.” He pointed at his penis and continued, “It’s not going to suck itself.”

I wrinkled my face up in distaste. The thought of putting his or any penis in my mouth repulsed me. Well, so did anal sex, but this was a completely different level.

Mr. Cabot grinned at me and said, “Come on. Don’t be shy. If you want to keep the nicer food and nicer treatment coming, you’ll get on your knees now. You know the score. You’re going to do it regardless, so you might as well do it on your terms, right?” He pointed at his penis again.

He was right. I could make it easy on myself and just do it or be forced. I lowered myself down on my knees before Mr. Cabot. I hesitated, just staring at the ugly thing between his legs. I felt ill.

Mr. Cabot suddenly grabbed my hair and pulled my face into his crotch. He held my face there and forced me to rub my face against his cock. He said, “There. Now that’s over with. So, carry on.”

I lifted his cock with one hand, cringed and opened my mouth. Just before inserting it, I hesitated and looked at Mr. Cabot through narrowed eyes.

Mr. Cabot just smiled and said, “I know what you’re thinking. One bite and I get my revenge. A girl did that once. The doctors here just sewed it back on and the girl wound up as mulch in the planters down in the building’s main lobby.”

I sighed, closed my eyes and grimaced as I slid his cock into my mouth. As the taste and texture of his penis slid across my tongue, I suddenly felt bad for the girl who, back in high school, gave me a blowjob in the car after I took her to a movie. She was doing it to turn me on, but the experience had to be the same for her. I remember overhearing her talking to a couple of her friends about how much she hated giving blowjobs but did it anyway because guys like them.

And here it’s my turn in the barrel.

I knew I had to please Mr. Cabot, so I did everything I remember my old girlfriend doing, but also some things I wished she had done to me. I watched his expressions as I slid his cock in and out of my mouth, licked his balls, and sucked and licked his shaft. Don’t get me wrong. I still hated having to do it, but I have to admit that I enjoyed having more control, although there’s nothing more submissive than being on your knees in front of a man with his penis in your mouth.

Mr. Cabot moaned with pleasure and he was obviously enjoying what I was doing. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Should I be happy that I was pleasing him and would be rewarded? Or should I just feel disgust? Over the past few weeks or however long it was, I was always rewarded if I pleased the man fucking me. I was rewarded more if I did more than just lay there and be fucked. My whole mindset was changing.

It was a shock when Mr. Cabot finally ejaculated getting some of his cum in my mouth before I could pull away and then it covered my face. I felt nauseated. But before I could spit it out, Mr. Cabot held a few fingers under my chin and made me swallow it. I felt disgust and shame over what I had just done.

Mr. Cabot smiled broadly as he continued to hold his hand under my chin. He said, “That was excellent, Prissy! Well done! You’ve done this before, haven’t you? You did much better than those three sluts you arrived with. I’m moving your timetable up. Our customers are just going to love you, Prissy!”

I smiled at his words and started to feel some pride at pleasing him. I had to mentally flog myself back to the reality that I was on my way to being a prostitute. A shemale prostitute.


*          *          *


A few days after my oral initiation with Mr. Cabot, two men arrived at my room to bring a couple of plastic chairs and a plastic table. The table had a mirror attached. And naturally, before they left, they demanded sex and blowjobs.

Later that morning, while lying on my bed daydreaming about being back home, there was a knock on my door. A knock. Nobody had ever knocked before entering before.

I sat up and hesitantly said, “Come in?”

A woman walked in and gave me a genuine smile. Not one of those forced smiles that Kate, Chloe and Rachelle gave me when they brought me food those times. She looked to be in her mid-thirties and very attractive, though a bit tired looking. She was carrying a case.

“Good morning, Priscilla,” she said pleasantly. “My name is Misty and I’m going to train you on the use of cosmetics.” She walked over to the small table and set the case down. Opening the case revealed a wide array of make-up.

I slid off the bed and stood. I said, “Hi, Misty. It’s nice to see someone who’s not going to rape me.”

Misty looked at the floor for a moment and laughed nervously. She said, “I’m really sorry you’re here, Prissy. I really am.” She sat in one of the plastic chairs.

I sat in the chair next to her and said, “Can you help me get out?”

Misty looked suddenly sad as she placed her hand on top of mine. She said, “Honey, if there was any way out of here, I’d be gone myself. I’m just like you. Brought here against my will many years ago.”

Sensing she might be willing to talk, I said, “There has to be someway. Where are we exactly? What do these people want from us?”

Misty sighed and said, “We’re in the Dubai Tower in Dubai. We’re now part of a very expensive, very prestigious brothel. It covers three full floors of the tower. They pay to have the most beautiful girls from around the world stolen and brought to them to entertain wealthy international travelers. Mostly to men.”

I shook my head and said, “But why snatch people? I’m sure there are girls who actually choose this life that would love to be here than on some street corner.”

Misty laughed and said, “You’re a naïve one, aren’t you? Those girls have a paper trail. Visas, passports and other stuff. When you’re a sex slave, you have none of that. Plus they can get exactly what they want.”

I started to cry as I said, “But why are they doing this to me? I don’t cross dress. I’ve never had an interest in men. And yet they’re going to all this trouble!”

Misty frowned at me and said, “Everyone asks, ‘why me?’ They grabbed you for the same reason they grabbed me years ago. Chicks with dicks are very popular.”

With a puzzled expression, I said, “You’re a guy? Really?”

Nodding, Misty said, “Used to be. I’m not anymore. Take a look, Prissy. This is your future. After a while, customers that like the femboys grow tired of the current stock. Since there’s a huge investment in you by then, they perform the surgery on you to give you a pussy. By then, you’re a woman in everything but name anyway. Notice your breasts? Ever since you arrived, everything you’ve ingested has contained the brothel’s special cocktail of gender altering drugs. That’s why you’re growing boobs and have lost muscle mass. At some point in the last few weeks, they sedated you for a few days and did electrolysis on you to remove your facial hair.”

I looked at Misty in horror and unconsciously felt my face. It hasn’t felt that smooth since I was a kid. I said, “You can’t be serious! They’re going to give me a sex change? That’s crazy!”

Misty shrugged. She said, “To them it’s just a business decision. Recouping their investment. Don’t worry about it right now. That’s at least a year away. And like I said. By then you’re a girl anyway, so it won’t really bother you. You’re chemically castrated even now.”

“Oh my God!” I cried. “I gotta get out of here!”

Misty frowned and shook her head. She said, “I’ve said too much. I shouldn’t have. And honey, like I said. You are never getting out of here. Now it’s just a matter of survival. You’ve already caught on. Things aren’t so bad for you now, are they? Let me give you a clue, and then we need to get on with the make-up lesson. The only way through this and keeping your sanity is just try to shut your mind off and just go with it. If you resist. If you fight it, they’re just going to hurt you and then you’re being fucked and in pain. If someone treats you nice, give him the best sex you’ve ever given. You want men who are good to you, to request that it’s you who entertain them. That way you get fewer douche-bags.”

I started crying. Through sobs I said, “What a horrible future I have! I don’t know how you can stand it!”

Staring off into space, Misty said in almost a whisper, “I do whatever it takes to survive.” She refocused her eyes back on me and smiled. She said, “Okay. Let me show you how to wear make-up. You’re at a disadvantage to the girls you arrived with. They all knew how and are used to wearing make-up. I’m guessing you never have.”

I nodded, still feeling numb at the prospect of having my cock and balls removed.

Misty said, “You’ll also have to learn to walk in heels, which they also already know. But first, I’ll show you how to wear your daily make-up. And then I’ll show you some techniques for the evening make-up you’ll be required to wear when you finally are put out circulating with our clients. And lastly, that ridiculous clown make-up you’ll have to wear when you’re bringing food trays to new members.”

“Sounds like a lot,” I said glumly.

Misty smiled and said, “We have a few hours. I understand you’re getting your hair fixed this afternoon along with getting your ears pierced. It’s a busy day for you. You must have really impressed Mr. Cabot.”

Frowning, I said, “Lucky me.”

Misty started her training by explaining what each product in the make-up case was, and how it’s used. The case was mine and my responsibility. Apparently, all the make-up had been selected for my particular skin tones. As she applied each item to my face, she went into detail on how to use the various brushes. She also informed me that after today, I was expected to wear make-up every day. I’ll be getting a wardrobe, and she’ll show me how to dress as a woman and instruct me on wearing heels. Needless to say, none of this news made me happy.

After she finished applying my make-up for the first time, Misty leaned back to get a good look at me. She gasped and said, “Oh, Prissy! You were pretty before, which is why you’re here in the first place. But now. All I can say is wow. You are gorgeous!” She pointed at the mirror and said, “Take a look!”

Hesitantly, I looked at my reflection in the mirror. What I saw stunned me. I had taken ribbing in high school and even college for being a “pretty boy”, but if the mirror hadn’t been pointing at my face, I never would have believed that that beautiful young woman in the reflection was me.

Grinning, Misty said, “Once you get your hair done, some pretty earrings and the right clothes, I’ll have to say, Priscilla, you’re going to be irresistible. If you stop fighting it, you’re going to have an easy time here. You’re going to be popular.”

“I can’t stop fighting this! I don’t want to be a sex slave!” I protested.

Frowning, Misty said, “Have you not hear anything I’ve said? If you resist. If you fight it. If you don’t earn your keep, they’ll just sell you into something worse and this will seem like Disneyland by comparison. Look. I despise what they’ve done to me. I’m getting older so I face a rather uncertain future. But I adapt. I keep making myself valuable to them. If you don’t, you’re dead. Pure and simple.”

“But what kind of life is this?” I said, feeling tears welling up again in my eyes.

“Survival. You can choose to die if you want to. Me? I prefer to live,” said Misty looking annoyed. “And avoid crying. You’ll just ruin your make-up. Okay. Go wash your face and then you try applying your make-up yourself.”

Misty spent the next few hours with me, helping me learn how to apply make-up and things I can do with my hair. She gave me tips on how to please men and what to expect from the customers I would be serving.

After the initiation of delivering food trays, they’ll move me to a new room where they’ll send men to me. That never really ends, but then I’ll move up to hanging out in one of their many bars and hospitality rooms and flirt with men and solicit sex from them. From there, I’ll move to a lobby setting and meet and flirt with their most high end customers. At that point, I can find myself being rented out and actually taken out of the building. Misty told me she got to attend private parties across Europe and the Mediterranean and even across Asia. Some of these clients had really deep pockets.

And of course, you’re closely watched when you’re out with a client, so there’s no way to run away. Misty said she tried and was punished severely. She wouldn’t talk about how she was punished, but from her expression, it must have been pretty bad.

She also told me that from now on, every time Mr. Cabot enters my room, even if he has a client with him, to give him a sexy kiss and attempt to solicit sex from him. He likes to see his girls begging for sex. And unless you want to shorten your life, never let a customer know you’re anything other than a highly paid escort. While prostitution is strictly illegal in Dubai, it’s a big money maker.

As Misty stood up to leave, she said, “Honey, I know this isn’t the life you wanted, but it’s the hand you’ve been dealt. If you play your cards right, you’re going to be very popular and that will make it easier for you. Don’t do anything stupid.” She gave me a hug and left.

I threw myself onto my bed and cried.


*          *          *


There was a knock on the door. People had been knocking lately before coming into my room. I stood up and said, “Come in.”

A man stuck his head into the room and said, “Okay, slut. It’s your turn to deliver food. You have fifteen minutes to get ready.” He then tossed the French Maid’s uniform and four inch heels into my room which landed on the bed.

“Oh, great,” I said aloud to myself. I quickly slipped into the maid outfit and put the heels on my feet. I’d had some time to practice with Misty, but I felt these shoes were just too tall. Three inch heels were much more rational.

Sitting in front of the mirror on the table, I tried to remember what she told me about what she called “clown make-up.” It was mostly just a heavier foundation, thicker eye liner and thick and very red lipstick.

I had just finished applying the lipstick when Mr. Cabot came in. I stood up and walked over to him to kiss him. He waved me off and said, “Not with that lipstick. Follow me, Prissy. It’s your turn to help.”

I have to admit, the thought of finally getting out of my tiny little cell excited me. Finally I was going to get to see what was beyond the door. The beautician that fixed my hair and the person who pierced my ears the other day had come to me. I couldn’t tell if I’d been in this box for a month or ten years. There was no way to tell the passage of time.

But sadly there wasn’t much to see beyond a long hallway dotted with doors.

Just outside my room was a food cart. This cart contained a pot roast with sliced carrots and cut up potatoes, all floating in gravy. It smelled wonderful.

Mr. Cabot said, “Grab the cart and follow me, Prissy. We have a stubborn one with us.” Two henchmen followed behind me.

Mr. Cabot just barged into the room, causing a young man with a nice build to jump at the sudden entrance. I followed Mr. Cabot into the room and the two henchmen followed me. The room looked like a carbon copy of my room except it didn’t have the table and chairs.

Mr. Cabot smiled at the young man and said, “Well, Sally. Are you ready to cooperate today?”

Sally sneered at Mr. Cabot and said, “Fuck you, man. I’m not doing shit. You’re going to let me out of here or I just might have to rough up your homies.”

“Sally,” said Mr. Cabot, still smiling. “It’s your choice. You can either...”

Sally stood up and shouted, “Just shut the fuck up! Quit calling me Sally! I’m not a chick and I ain’t no drag queen. I may be gay, but I don’t do that shit!”

No longer smiling, Mr. Cabot said, “We own you, Sally. If we want you to be a girl, you are to be a girl. Make it easy on yourself.”

“You can’t make me be a girl!” said Sally, sitting back down on his bed.

No longer smiling, Mr. Cabot pointed at me and said, “What do you think of this slut next to me?”

Sally looked me over and shrugged. He said, “She’s very pretty. Too much make-up, but cute outfit.”

Smiling again, Mr. Cabot said, “And what if I were to tell you this pretty girl is actually a man. A man that was as straight as they come?”

Sally laughed and said, “I’d say you’re full of shit!”

Without turning to look at me, Mr. Cabot said, “Show Sally what you’re made of.” He pointed at my crotch.

Hoping I read his signal correctly; grinning vacantly I lifted my skirt and pulled out my penis.

Mr. Cabot said, “Prissy was the kind of man that women just threw themselves at him and he just couldn’t get enough pussy. Tell Sally what you desire now. What you crave?”

Smiling stupidly, I said, “I crave men. I just can’t get enough cock!”

Mr. Cabot said, “See? We can make you anything we want.”

Sally rolled his eyes and said, “I’m not impressed.”

Mr. Cabot opened the door and the two henchmen entered. He held the door for me to push the cart through. He whispered to me, “Good girl, Prissy. Take this cart back to your room and bon appetite.”

The two henchmen threw Sally hard against the wall and fastened his arms and legs like they used to do to me. Once Sally was secure, one of the henchmen led me back to my room and opened the door. Before the door closed, I heard Sally screaming in pain. As the door closed behind me, I tried not to think about it. I washed my face and then ate.


*          *          *


There was a knock on my door. And then it opened.

A grinning Mr. Cabot walked in. I hadn’t seen him since paying Sally a visit. I smiled lustily at him, put my arms around his neck and kissed him deeply while pressing my panties into his crotch.

Smiling he disengaged my arms and took a step back from me. His smile broadened as he said, “Now that’s the way to greet me. And oh my. Just look at you, Prissy! My compliments to Misty on her instructing. You are simply gorgeous! And I’m glad you’re feeling amorous today. You get your first client in just a few hours. I’m taking you to your new room.

That excited me. Not the part about the client, but the fact that I finally leave this room, hopefully for good. Delivering food was a nice diversion, but I was always brought back to the same tiny room.

Mr. Cabot took my hand and led me from what I had considered my prison cell and out into a hallway. The hall was plain with white painted walls, fluorescent lights in the ceiling and no decorations. Doors dotted the walls every so many feet. Behind each door was another girl learning about her fate. At the end of the long hallway, was an elevator door. We went down one floor.

The elevator opened up onto a lobby of sorts. A couple of hallways branched off of it and what looked like a bar or something also opened onto the lobby. The bar was full of men and attendant girls. Girls in short, pretty dresses were either sitting in chairs by themselves or sitting next to men, flirting.

I felt embarrassed as I was only wearing panties and a camisole. It didn’t make me feel any better to notice I wasn’t the only one.

As we exited into the lobby, an older man with graying temples, who had been sitting at the bar looked up, set his drink down and hurried out to see us. He smiled and vigorously shook Mr. Cabot’s hand. He wouldn’t take his eyes off me. I expected to see him drool any second.

Pointing at me, the man said, “Mr. Cabot. Where have you been hiding this lovely creature? She’s very beautiful and I’d love to have a piece of that.”

I shrank back from him a bit as his words revolted me. I’m little more than a plaything to him.

Smiling back at the man, Mr. Cabot said, “Winston! You old devil. Prissy is one of our newest katoeys. She’ll be busy for the next hour or so, but if you sign up over there with the receptionist, she’s open for the following hour.”

Winston grinned widely as his eyes roamed over my whole body. He said, “There’s nothing more delicious than a sexy, beautiful femboy! Nobody gives better head!”

Mr. Cabot continued to smile and said, “You won’t be disappointed in her. She’s already on our premium list. Good to see you again, Winston. Let me know how well you enjoyed her. Be sure to inform the receptionist your preference in underwear colors. Good day.”

Mr. Cabot led me away down one of the hallways. When we were out of earshot, he leaned over growled in my ear, “Never back away from one of our clients again! Do you understand? That one is always willing to pay large sums of money for our services. You will please him, even harder than you try to please me. Understood?”

Looking at the floor, I mumbled, “Yes, sir.”

Mr. Cabot stopped walking, turned and grabbed my face with one hand and squeezed slightly as he lifted my face towards him. Again, he growled, “Understood?”

I nodded meekly and said, “Yes, Mr. Cabot.”

He led me to a door and he opened it and led me into a larger room with a larger, more comfortable looking bed with satin sheets. The room had a mirrored ceiling and mirrors on one wall. The closet had a few dresses and about twenty pairs of high heels, all various colors and styles. There was a dresser brimming with bras again of various styles and colors, along with matching panties.

There was a large vanity with a mirror and somehow all my make-up and nail polish had managed to arrive before us. All-in-all, it was a larger, nicer prison cell.

Mr. Cabot handed me a card. He said, “Before you receive a client, you’ll be brought a card like this one. On it is the name the client wants you to call him by, his preference in the color of bra and panties you’re to wear. Matching shoes are in the closet. There are check boxes to indicate if the client is interested in anal, oral or both. Every client must leave your room happy. Some clients like to play a bit rough. You are to accept it. They do know they are not to hurt you. If they bruise you or kill you, they’ll be banned from this establishment as well as have to pay for damages.”

I said grimly, “Well, that’s comforting.”

Mr. Cabot slapped me and said, “Be careful, little girl. This is a probationary period for you. You have thirty minutes to get ready for your first client. He pays big money to be the first client of any of our girls. I want to hear him say good things about you. Make me proud, sissy-boy.”

He turned and left the room. Just like the other room, there was no visible way to open the door from the inside. It must use some kind of proximity reader. I sighed and looked at the card to see what I needed to do to get ready.

As I hurried with my make-up after struggling with putting on the black lacy bra and panties and the black, patent leather pumps with four inch heels, I started to shake from nervousness. This obviously wouldn’t be my first time with a man, but this time it was someone who was paying money to have sex with me in particular and punishment awaited me if I failed to please him. Talk about pressure! Not to mention that having sex with men was the last thing I ever wanted to do. Actually, it wasn’t even on the list.

About ten minutes after I was ready, the door opened. I guess there’s no point in knocking first here. I just laid on the bed in what I hoped was a seductive pose.

In walked a very well dressed and tall black man. He had a handsomely chiseled face and short hair. He smiled and said with a deep, rich baritone, “So you must be Prissy, the new girl. You’re very beautiful and Mr. Cabot said you just can’t get enough cock.”

He dropped his pants to reveal a large penis already growing into a huge hard on. He grinned and said, “I hope this is enough for you.” He removed his shirt, revealing a well muscled chest. Kicking off his shoes, he slid into bed next me. He pushed his huge erection against my panties.

I smiled at him and slid my arm around his neck and kissed him as he squeezed my small breasts though my bra. He reached around and unsnapped my bra and then reached down and deftly slid my panties down.

He put his hand on my now tiny cock and said, “Oh baby, I’d hoped you were bigger. But no matter.” He slid his tongue into my mouth and I sucked on it. As he rolled me onto my back, I slid my hands down his hard, muscled chest until I found his massive cock and started fondling it.

The temptation was great to just switch to automatic and put my mind elsewhere. But I couldn’t. As much as I hated it, I had to be pro-active and provide this man as much pleasure as possible. The conditioning had succeeded. I wanted to ensure that the perks and benefits continued. I didn’t want Mr. Cabot to have any reason to be upset with me.

As his moans of pleasure rewarded my efforts, I wouldn’t allow myself to feel any shame as I acted contrary to everything I had thought I was. Like Misty, if I was to survive, I had to play the game no matter how disgusted I was.


*          *          *


I stepped out of the shower and started toweling myself off. I was still exhausted from my first foray into being a whore. Considering how I was treated in the weeks leading up to my first John, this was almost pleasant. Well, maybe not really, but it was overall a less stressful experience.

I stepped out of the small bathroom and was surprised to see Mr. Cabot sitting on my bed. He was grinning at me. I wrapped the towel around me and he laughed.

“Modesty, Prissy?” said Mr. Cabot. “Really? Drop the towel and let me have a look at you.” I did as he asked and just stood there. He continued, “Stunning. Just stunning. Prissy, you are working out much better than I ever imagined. Mr. Yar’Adua was very pleased. I’m surprised that you’re a hotter girl than the three others that were with you.”

I smiled seductively at Mr. Cabot and said, “My only desire is to please.”

Flashing me a wide, toothy grin, Mr. Cabot said slowly, “I bet. I bet.” He stood up and looked at the bed. He said, “Looks like Mr. Yar’Adua was very generous to you. Toss these sheets down that slot over there and get fresh sheets from the hamper. And fix your face. You’re getting a new customer in about fifteen minutes.”


*          *          *


And such was my existence for the next several months. It was an almost never ending parade of men with occasional days off where I mostly just slept in. What else was there? Several men I actually looked forward to returning, like Mr. Yar’Adua and a few others who made me feel like a woman and not some worthless slut. I got beaten a few times and when I did, I was surprised Mr. Cabot would toss those men out and slap them with a huge charge. I guess he was just protecting his investment.

I had no idea what day, month or year it was. There were no windows, no radio, no TV and certainly no internet. All the days blurred together. One of the men made an off-handed comment about it being Christmas time. After he left my room, I started thinking again of home and how badly I missed my favorite holiday, being home with my family. I hadn’t thought about them in weeks and now I missed my parents and even my little brother terribly. And what would they think of their son, the whore? I was suddenly overwhelmed with shame. I cried uncontrollably until I fell asleep.


*          *          *


After I finished pleasuring him, Mr. Cabot gently stroked my hair. He said, “I have some good news for you, my dear. You are one of our best entertainers and upper management has decided that it’s a waste to keep such beauty hidden in your bedroom. Starting tomorrow, you’re going to be a hostess in one of our many hospitality rooms.”

Excited, I said, “A hostess? Really? Oh wow, I can’t believe it!” Being a hostess meant more freedom. I would be able to let myself out of my room, mingle and hob-knob and of course flirt, with the international elite. Instead of a bra and panties, I’d wear a cocktail dress and heels. I’d be a high-end prostitute.

Mr. Cabot just grinned at me. He said, “You deserve it, girl. You’re a very popular girl and this exposure will help you draw more clients. More expensive clients I should say.”

“Thank you, Mr. Cabot,” I said as we both stood up. After I said it, it dawned on me that I just thanked the man who has forced me into prostitution, for making me a more costly prostitute.

I have to say I enjoyed the hospitality rooms. Except having to sometimes stand for long periods of time in heels. For the first time, really, I got to see some of the other girls as I had always been locked in my room. There weren’t any windows, but at least I could see inside some other rooms. It was also nice to get to walk around and mingle with others. Girls like me had to wear a small blue bracelet to let the clients know that I had something special between my legs.

The guy I had been trying to flirt with saw someone he wanted to engage with instead of me and just walked off. I frowned, turned around and saw a girl who looked somewhat familiar. I looked her more closely as she walked towards me.

She looked at me and cocked her head to one side and said, “Prissy? Oh my God, it is you!”

“Sissy!” I exclaimed. We both leaned in and hugged each other.

“Prissy! You are just so gorgeous!” said the former Kate. “I can’t believe you used to be a guy!”

I held up my arm with the blue bracelet and said, “Technically, I still am.”

Waving away the comment, Sissy said, “You know what I mean. But you do look great, girl. And you’re a hostess! You must be really getting into this whole call girl thing.”

I shrugged and said, “I can be miserable or I can embrace it. I must say that you’re looking pretty hot yourself!”

Sissy said, “Thanks. I pretty much agree with you. I decided to embrace it. I rarely think of home anymore. I wished I could have finished my degree, but that’s not going to happen now.”

I nodded and frowned. I said, “Do you ever see Chloe or Rachelle?”

Sissy said, “You mean Bambi and Mindy? I rarely see Mindy as she went full nympho. She’s moved up to the highest level sluts like us can attain. She’s been out on yachts and castles across Europe and across Asia. I’m hoping to reach that level soon. You look like you’re on your way as well.”

“Wow,” I said shaking my head. “I never would have believed that she’d be so willing to be a whore. What about Chloe…I mean Bambi?”

Looking suddenly sad, Sissy looked at the ground and whispered, “We’re not supposed to know, but another girl told me. Bambi just couldn’t cut it as a whore. From what I heard, she was sold to a human trafficker operating out of Chechnya. Who knows what happened to her after that.”

I was horrified. It was bad enough to be a sex slave here, but at least we’re fed and have showers and regular medical and dental check ups. I said, “Oh my God! That sucks. I feel terrible for her!”

One of the room’s handlers walked up to us and said sternly, “You’re not making any money just standing around. Come on, sluts. Earn your keep.”

I said, “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

Sissy waved as she walked away. She said, “Take care. See you soon.” That was the last time I saw her. We had different schedules and rooms to serve.

A few weeks went by after talking with Sissy. For as much as anyone can enjoy being a sex slave, I have to admit that I really liked being a hostess. Flirting is fun and I enjoyed having at least some control over who I had sex with. I even had a few “regulars” who’d want to dance or play pool as well as have sex.

It wasn’t all fun and games as one man I was flirting with finally noticed the blue bracelet and punched me in the face, screaming “Faggot!” I actually saw stars and fell to the floor. The man was escorted out, and I was given medical attention there at the brothel. I did get a week off to recover.

The blue bracelet turned out to be a problem of its own though. I was told that as long as I had to wear that bracelet, I wasn’t advancing to that final level where I’d get to go outside to exotic places and private sex parties.

I had long since stopped thinking of home. I couldn’t even remember my parents’ or my little brother’s face. Or even what town I used to live in. I had pushed it all out of my mind in order to remove the pain. In all honesty, I had even forgotten my own name.

And then, something strange happened. I was flirting with a totally gorgeous man who also had a wonderful Australian accent. He didn’t even have to fuck me as I was content to just listen to his voice. But while listening to him, while looking past his shoulder, I saw a face that jarred me to the core.

Probably any other place or time, I might not even have noticed. A man walked into the room, stopped to chat with one of the handlers for a moment. It was that moment when he looked straight in my direction that I recognized him. And in that instant came of a flood of memories. My name, Scott. My parents. My home. It all rushed back into my consciousness.

It was our Congressman. We’d had one of his campaign signs in our yard. I’d gone with my dad once to hear him speak at a rally. Two things about seeing him impacted me. Recognizing something from home broke me out of the mental shackles I had erected to make my existence easier. The other thing was, here was a representative of the U.S. government! He was a government official. He could get me out of here!

He laughed at something the handler said and then he turned to leave the room. He appeared to be heading for the lobby.

“Excuse me,” I blurted to the Australian man I was flirting with. I ran past him, my focus was on the Congressman. I was so used to wearing heels now, that running wasn’t even a big deal for me.

“Hey you, stop!” shouted the handler as I ran past him and into the lobby.

I could hear the blood rushing in my ears and felt my heart pounding in my chest as I raced towards the slowly closing elevator doors where I had seen the Congressman pass through. I kicked off my heels as I leaped over a counter and knocked down the receptionist standing in my way. I pushed my hand through the elevator door to stop it closing. It popped back open as I practically jumped inside.

I hit the button for the first floor and in a panic, I continuous slapped the door close button until the door finally closed just as the handler was about to hit the wall button to open the door again. I saw the floor we were on and I knew there’d be a minute or two before we arrived at the bottom.

Looking a bit taken aback by my abrupt entrance, the Congressman said, “What is the meaning of this, young lady? You gave me quite a fright.”

Breathing hard, I took a few gulps of air before I said, “Sir. I’m begging you for your help! I’m an American citizen who was stolen and forced to be a sex slave! I’m asking for asylum. Please! You must help me!”

The Congressman just looked at me as if I was from Mars. He took a step back from me and said, “Sex slave? Forced? Look, I’ve been assured that this establishment is a legitimate men’s entertainment business. The women here certainly don’t look forced to me.”

“Are you serious?” I screamed. “To the best of my knowledge, every girl here was bought and sold! Stolen and brought here! Please help me! I’m an American citizen held against my will. I recognized you! You’re my Congressman! Please! I beg you. Take me to the embassy so I can be safe and get back home! Please protect me!”

Frowning, the Congressman said, “If what you say is true, this is indeed serious. If word of this leaked to the press…”

Raising my arms in frustration, I shouted, “I demand asylum! I demand protection!”

The elevator doors opened. There were four very stern looking men standing in front of the elevator doors in the building’s main lobby. I stepped behind the Congressman for protection. I started to cry and whispered, “Please help me.”

The Congressman hesitated a moment, standing inside the elevator car. He suddenly grabbed my arm and jerked me in front of him. He held me by both my arms and said to the men in front of us, “I believe this belongs to you.” He pushed me towards the men.

One of the men smiled, took a firm grip on my arm and said, “Yes. Thank you for returning our property.” To me, the man said, “Cause a scene and you won’t live to see the end of the elevator ride.”

The Congressman started to walk past them. He said, “I thought your security was better than this. If this little fag bitch had gotten hold of the press, it’d be my career.”

The man who was now holding my arm said, “It won’t happen again sir. Your next visit with us will be on the house.”

The Congressman smiled and said, “Thanks. And next time, I want this little slut.” He pointed at me.

The man holding me said with a grin, “That won’t be a problem, sir.”

As I was being pulled back inside the elevator, I shouted to the Congressman, “My dad voted for you!”

The Congressman made a motion as if he was tipping his hat and said, “I appreciate his confidence. Good day.”

The elevator doors closed.


*          *          *


End of Part 2

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