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C
Chai
Guest
From the outside, the building looked to be a run down warehouse. The tin roof caved in, in some places and the few windows that were sparsely placed around the building were roughly boarded up with wood panels that covered broken glass stained with dirt and dust. Vines and other plants littered the sides of the building, making it look devoid of any other life within. Surely it was a place that everyone overlooked. Abandoned, destroyed, it looked to be a place that no one wanted, that no one would ever suspect of being a human trafficking hideaway.
But, it was just that. The entrance was a hole on the anterior side of the building , guarded by a man who seemed to be any other homeless citizen of the great city called New York. He was a stoutly man of short stature and chubby, greedy fingers that liked to flip through his wad of cash. And that was precisely his job, as no person—rich or poor—got in without his blessing, and the only way to achieve that was to grant him the money he wanted. It was no easy thing, but once inside, many of the visitors deemed the steep entrance fee completely worth it.
Inside the warehouse, it was equally dilapitated, but the fee granted an ushering to a secret stair beneath a grand rug, and from there the setting changed to that of high class nature. Various servers and waiters walked around the large room, offering drinks and hors d'oeuvres to the patrons and their company. A large stage commanded the attention of the room, red velvet drapes hanging down from ornate framing. Tile flooring had expertly placed lounging areas, some table and chairs in one region and couches in another region. The circular space was decorated impeccably, having the feel of a five-star hotel or restaurant. Likewise, all the visitors were dressed to perfection.
On the stage, a large man was at an announcer's podium, naming off the girls who were available for sale. One by one each girl was sold off to various men and women, and some purchased more than one. It was this stage where Aria Valmassei waited her turn to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. She was scantily clad in lingerie—navy blue lace bra and matching underwear—that complimented her honey-brown hair that hung to just below her breasts, and the pair of light blue eyes that were cast downward to the floor. Blue eyes so light that they almost looked violet...but no, they were definitely blue.
"Aria," a man called out in a thick New York accent as he walked toward her. "What are you doing? Straighten your back; hold your chin up. You want to be sold, don't you? Or would want to be daddy's little slave forever?" His eye brows shot up suggestively as his hand reached over to stroke the skin of her breasts.
A shiver ran down Aria's spine in disgust, and she did as he told her to do. Anyplace was better than here, and she longed to leave it as soon as possible. "Of course I would like to be sold," she said to him, her voice coming out a high soprano, though it was strong. "I did what you asked, and now I'm waiting."
"Good girl. You're up next, so make sure to show yourself off...but not the goods, don't show those off. That's what people are paying for."
Aria nodded, standing as she heard her name called. She walked to the front, almost stumbling in her high heels as she strutted to the heavy spotlight. It was so bright that she could barely see the faces of the potential bidders, though she heard rings of the price rising rapidly.
"And this beautiful brunette is only 19 years-old, and—oh, she's a virgin as well! Starting at 50 dollars—we have 100! Aaaand we have 175! Come on folks, don't be shy, she's young and willing..."
The announcer's voice trailed off as Aria's mind numbed into a routine of: smile, breath, chest up. Her own hands were bound behind her back with thick paracord, she waited patiently as the numbers kept rising. This world was new to her as she had only been captured recently during her vacation to Mexico—a vacation that did not end well indeed. Somehow, through trade and payment, she ended up back in the States a month ago in the hands of some New York pimp.
Suddenly, another man in a dark suit approached the announcer, whispering something into his ear, then pulled Aria off the stage and to the back. "Miss...Valmassei," he read off of a card. "It seems there's someone here who bought you for an extraordinary amount of money. He wishes not be revealed until later, but I am to escort you to his vehicle. A coat, miss Valmassei?" He held out a large, wool ladies coat, appropriated for the mid-fall season of the upper East coast. Aria gladly took it, hiding her slightly tan skin in the warm material as she was ushered to a back door and outside, the chilly evening air biting at her cheeks, nose, and legs.
A sleek, black limousine was waiting in a driveway, the engine kept running so as to keep the car warm. Although the girl eyed the windows, they were heavily tinted, making it impossible to see inside the car. Was that even legal to have black-out tints? The man opened up the door, and she slid inside to find heated leather seats and...no one else. Crossing her legs in a lady-like manner, she sat and waited patiently for whoever was to come.
But, it was just that. The entrance was a hole on the anterior side of the building , guarded by a man who seemed to be any other homeless citizen of the great city called New York. He was a stoutly man of short stature and chubby, greedy fingers that liked to flip through his wad of cash. And that was precisely his job, as no person—rich or poor—got in without his blessing, and the only way to achieve that was to grant him the money he wanted. It was no easy thing, but once inside, many of the visitors deemed the steep entrance fee completely worth it.
Inside the warehouse, it was equally dilapitated, but the fee granted an ushering to a secret stair beneath a grand rug, and from there the setting changed to that of high class nature. Various servers and waiters walked around the large room, offering drinks and hors d'oeuvres to the patrons and their company. A large stage commanded the attention of the room, red velvet drapes hanging down from ornate framing. Tile flooring had expertly placed lounging areas, some table and chairs in one region and couches in another region. The circular space was decorated impeccably, having the feel of a five-star hotel or restaurant. Likewise, all the visitors were dressed to perfection.
On the stage, a large man was at an announcer's podium, naming off the girls who were available for sale. One by one each girl was sold off to various men and women, and some purchased more than one. It was this stage where Aria Valmassei waited her turn to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. She was scantily clad in lingerie—navy blue lace bra and matching underwear—that complimented her honey-brown hair that hung to just below her breasts, and the pair of light blue eyes that were cast downward to the floor. Blue eyes so light that they almost looked violet...but no, they were definitely blue.
"Aria," a man called out in a thick New York accent as he walked toward her. "What are you doing? Straighten your back; hold your chin up. You want to be sold, don't you? Or would want to be daddy's little slave forever?" His eye brows shot up suggestively as his hand reached over to stroke the skin of her breasts.
A shiver ran down Aria's spine in disgust, and she did as he told her to do. Anyplace was better than here, and she longed to leave it as soon as possible. "Of course I would like to be sold," she said to him, her voice coming out a high soprano, though it was strong. "I did what you asked, and now I'm waiting."
"Good girl. You're up next, so make sure to show yourself off...but not the goods, don't show those off. That's what people are paying for."
Aria nodded, standing as she heard her name called. She walked to the front, almost stumbling in her high heels as she strutted to the heavy spotlight. It was so bright that she could barely see the faces of the potential bidders, though she heard rings of the price rising rapidly.
"And this beautiful brunette is only 19 years-old, and—oh, she's a virgin as well! Starting at 50 dollars—we have 100! Aaaand we have 175! Come on folks, don't be shy, she's young and willing..."
The announcer's voice trailed off as Aria's mind numbed into a routine of: smile, breath, chest up. Her own hands were bound behind her back with thick paracord, she waited patiently as the numbers kept rising. This world was new to her as she had only been captured recently during her vacation to Mexico—a vacation that did not end well indeed. Somehow, through trade and payment, she ended up back in the States a month ago in the hands of some New York pimp.
Suddenly, another man in a dark suit approached the announcer, whispering something into his ear, then pulled Aria off the stage and to the back. "Miss...Valmassei," he read off of a card. "It seems there's someone here who bought you for an extraordinary amount of money. He wishes not be revealed until later, but I am to escort you to his vehicle. A coat, miss Valmassei?" He held out a large, wool ladies coat, appropriated for the mid-fall season of the upper East coast. Aria gladly took it, hiding her slightly tan skin in the warm material as she was ushered to a back door and outside, the chilly evening air biting at her cheeks, nose, and legs.
A sleek, black limousine was waiting in a driveway, the engine kept running so as to keep the car warm. Although the girl eyed the windows, they were heavily tinted, making it impossible to see inside the car. Was that even legal to have black-out tints? The man opened up the door, and she slid inside to find heated leather seats and...no one else. Crossing her legs in a lady-like manner, she sat and waited patiently for whoever was to come.
