Page 13 of Paved in Venom

“Keep them there,” he warns, “or I will tie you to the fucking table.”

I force myself to be still, but I can’t stop my body from shaking. He sees it and gives me a wink as he drags his finger down my thigh and says something in Romanian to the doctor who’s now less than a foot from my crotch. When he reaches up and starts to pull my underwear off, I start to cry. It’s humiliating and degrading and terrifying, and that’s exactly why they’re doing it. They’re letting me know that I have zero say in this, that I’m completely helpless, and that they can do whatever the fuck they want.

When I’m naked from the waist down, my captor eyes me as my face turns red and more tears slip out. “You need to be waxed. Men want to see exactly what they’re getting. They want smooth pussy.”

The doctor lets out a groan that almost makes me dry heave as he spreads me apart. I dart my eyes to the man standing above me. “What the hell is going on? Are you seriously trying to see if I’m a virgin?” Anger and humiliation rage through me and I can’t help but spit out, “You know that’s fucking stupid, right? It’s antiquated as fuck. Lots of women don’t even have hymens, dipshit. You can lose them riding a damn bike when you’re a kid.”

His jaw tenses, and I know I’ve pissed him off. He braces his hands on either side of my head, lowering closer to me so he’s invading my space as he lets me see how much bigger he is than me. He’s nothing but a fucking bully, and bullies get off on hurting others. He’s a monster who preys on anyone he thinks is weaker. I try not to show how scared I am, but he sees it. I can tell by the amused glint in his dark eyes.

“You better hope you still have yours, sweetheart. If I think for one second that you’re not a virgin, then you’re going to be sold to a club instead of to a private buyer. Want to guess what you’ll be doing every night for the rest of your pathetic life?”

“You’re a fucking sex trafficker?”

I’m about to say something else, but my attention is diverted when the doctor slides his finger into me.

“What the fuck?” I yell, trying to scramble away.

My captor puts one hand on my shoulder and the other on one of my thighs, pinning me in place as the doctor slowly slides his finger in and out of me.

“Shh, sweetheart. This is part of his payment.” He gives a soft laugh. “He likes to finger the tight pussies who come through here.”

When I hear a zipper being undone, I whimper and try harder to escape, but he just grips me tighter.

“Relax, he’s just going to jerk off.” He gives another laugh like we’re sharing a secret. “I know it’s weird as fuck, but the old man likes what he likes.”

I cry while I’m kept in his vice-like grip and the old fucking pervert jerks off. My fingers try to form the notes of a song that I composed a few months ago, but it doesn’t work. I can’t hear the music in my head. All I can feel is fear, and it presses down on me until I can’t breathe, robbing me of everything else.

When I hear him groan right before a wet heat hits my inner thigh, I can’t resist dry heaving any longer. I turn my head, willing myself to not throw up. I suck in huge lungfuls of air, telling myself that it’s going to be okay, that somehow I’ll manage to get out of this, but with each second that passes, it’s getting harder and harder to believe.

“You can’t just keep me in Romania,” I whisper.

My captor smiles and gives my cheek a hard enough smack to turn my head back to face him.

“You’re in America, sweetheart.”

I’m too stunned to speak. Thoughts race through my head while he talks to the doctor in Romanian. How long was I knocked out? How the fuck did they get me out of the country so quickly? I’m still trying to process what he’s just said when he turns his focus back to me.

“Lucky for you, you didn’t lose your hymen on your bike.” He smiles and pulls out a red rubber band from his pocket before slipping it over my hand so it sits on my wrist by the zip tie. “You’re going to make us a fucking fortune.”

He picks me up, roughly pulling my underwear back on before dragging me from the room. We walk past several closed doors before he opens the last one on the right. Inside are two women who jump to standing when the see the man who’s hauling me in. He shoves me in their direction.

“Get her cleaned up and ready to go. The auction is tonight.”

Before he leaves, he looks at me. “Don’t waste your time trying to get them to help you. They work for me, and I will beat them to within an inch of their lives if you try to talk to them, and I’ll make you watch while I do it.”

And with that, he steps out and shuts the door behind him. I look at the two women in front of me, and when I see the terrified look in their eyes, I know I can’t do it. I can’t do anything that’s going to get them beaten because of me. It’s not their fault they’re here. They’re victims to this asshole just like I am, and there’s no way in hell they could do anything to help me even if they wanted to. When I let out a resigned sigh and take a step closer, I can see the relief wash over them. It makes me wonder how many times they’ve been hurt because some poor woman was trying like hell to escape.

Over the next couple of hours, I’m given the royal I’ve just been kidnapped and now you need to make me look good enough to sell treatment. I’m washed clean, but even with that fucker’s semen scrubbed off me, I still feel dirty. Then I’m waxed in every conceivable place and put in a tiny black dress that’s made of lace and completely see-through. I’m not given a bra or panties. The two women are silent as they work on my hair, never speaking a word, and I have to bite my tongue to keep from asking them a million questions, because even if they can’t help me, maybe they can give me some information that might help me to escape later, or at least give me some idea of what to expect at this auction.

When my captor walks into the room a few minutes later, the two women stand up and step away from me. They keep their eyes down, taking on a submissive stance that I’m sure this fucker is eating up.

“You clean up nice, little one,” he says, running his eyes over me, checking his product out to make sure I pass inspection. “Let’s go. The others are waiting.”

He grabs my arm, and I have just enough time to look back and catch one of the women giving me a look of such grief that I can’t help but take that as a very bad sign. I don’t know what awaits me, but she does, and that look says it all. It’s going to be way worse than anything I’ve imagined.

My captor walks a little slower since I’m in heels, and I guess he doesn’t want to make me fall and risk messing up all the hard work that’s been put into me. When we round the corner, I’m surprised to see a long line of women, all of them dressed like I am, all of them looking just as shocked and terrified. He puts me at the end of the line and then walks over to two other men who are guarding a set of double doors. Looking around, I notice the fire alarm on the wall and the set of elevators on the other side of the room. This place looks like a rundown hotel, the kind of place that used to rent by the hour and has only gotten shabbier with the passing of time.

When the doors open, two men walk in, and the entire room stills. I thought my captor was the one in charge, but there’s no denying that these two men are the top of the food chain. My captor greets them with a smile, and then starts speaking a language that’s not Romanian. It sounds Eastern European, but I’m not sure what it is.

---