Bought

Chapter 5

The creepy man leaves and the girls immediately begin scrubbing me with rough soaps.

"Guys! Stop! I can bathe myself!" I shout. They back off, startled, but they nod and give me the soap.

I hurry to scrub myself clean and wash my hair. They hand me a plushy red towel as I step out of the cold water and once I'm dried off the sit me down on the table.

"What are you doing?" I ask as one wraps leather straps around my ankles while the other holds me back.

She doesn't answer. Instead, she rubs something on my legs and puts paper over it.
Shit.

She does the same with my private area. A few freezing minutes later she rips of the paper.

I scream in pain. I shave myself regularly! Why did they feel the need to wax!?

I look down at my bright pink skin as the girl releases my legs.

As soon as I stand up I smack her in the face. She recoils.

"Why are you doing this!?" I demand. "Why do you do whatever they tell you to?"

She hangs her head and I realize she's shaking. I immediately regret my actions.

"Im sorry..." I say awkwardly. "But don't you want out of here? Have you even tried to escape?"

She nods and raises her head. Then she opens her mouth.

I gasp in horror. She has no tongue. Neither does the other girl.

"Did they do this to you?" I ask, horrified.

They nod.

"I'm so sorry!"

They shrug, which is a weird response, but I don't say anything.
I don't resist as they give me a silk robe and guide me to the vanity and get to work on my hair and makeup.

I may hate this situation but that's no reason to be mean to these girls. They, like me, were probably kidnapped and have no choice.

They put on a ridiculous amount of makeup and pull my hair up into a beautiful, elaborate, twisty bun thing.

Then they open a door, not the same one we came in though. This one leads to a brightly lit room with mirrors on all of the walls.

They gently push me through, hand me a clipboard and pen, and close the door. Once it's closed I can barely tell where it was. There's no door handle and on this side it's just mirror.

I sit down on the single chair in the room and look at the clipboard.

It's a basic information sheet, but I feel weird filling it out. Why do they need so much information about me?

Nevertheless, I answer all of the questions.

Name: Mary Evet
Age: 20
Birthday: April 2, 1998
Hometown: Boston, Massachusetts
Bra size:

Wait, what? Bra size? Are they serious!? I debate leaving it blank, but I'm it left with much time.

A door opens from amidst the mirrors and creepy man walks in.

He reaches out his hand when he sees me. I take the hint and hand him the clipboard.

He looks at the minimal amount of information before stepping towards me.

I hastily stand and back away from the chair. He stops moving.

"Bra size?" He says.

I say nothing in response. He lifts his eyes.

"Mary, what is your bra size?"

"Why do you want to know?" I ask with a shaking voice.

"You can't wear that robe forever."

I hug the silky fabric close to me. Yes I can. I'd like to see him try to get me out of this........ On second thought, never mind.

"Let me ask this again. What is your bra size?"

I shake my head. He rolls his eyes, sets the clipboard on the chair, and steps towards me.
In one swift motion he rips the robe off of my body, literally ripping the thin fabric.

I stand horrified and attempt to cover myself. Two hands isn't enough.

He studies my naked body, occasionally touching me in inappropriate places. I cringe, but don't dare push him away.

He finally moved away and picks up the clipboard. "Would you like something to wear, Mary?" He asks.

I nod.

"Tell me you bra size and I think I can find you something."

"34B," I whisper.

He catches it and smiles. He writes it down.

"Now Mary, are you a virgin?" He asks.

"I thought you were going to give me clothes," I squeak.

"Answer the question and I'll think about it."

I hug myself as I nod my head.
I see him smile out of the corner of his eye and he leaves the room.

I study myself in the mirror. I look terrified. My face is covered in seductive colors and my hair is, well I actually like my hair.

Suddenly the door opens and he returns. I wish I had something to call him.

"Put this on," he says and tosses me a wad of red fabric.

I examine it. A revealing, lace push up bra and skimpy lace underwear.

It's not much but it's better than nude. I hastily put on the undergarments.
"Is there anything else?" I ask, hoping for actual clothes.

"Actually, yes," he says and steps towards me.

I take a step back, but he grabs my wrist and closes something cold around it. The same for my other wrist.

Around my wrists are delicate, gold shackles with a nice long delicate chain. It's long enough to have my arms by my  sides.

They're kinda pretty, but at the same time they're made for restricting movement. 

I stare at the twinkling bracelet things.

"Do you like them?" He asks. "They're more feminine and modern than other handcuffs and they look nicer."

Sensing the rhetorical question, I choose not to answer. A second later cold metal closes around my neck.

My hands fly up to touch it. It's about two inches wide all the way around my neck, leaving about 2 fingers width of wiggle room.

"Seriously? A collar?" I ask. "I'm not a dog."

Suddenly I'm on my hands and knees with an aching neck. A gold chain twinkles on the ground coming from my neck. A leash? Really?

"Well," he says, tilting my chin up to look at him. "You certainly look like a dog to me."

He tugs on the leash and I stand, looking at myself in the mirror. Between the lacey red undergarments and the chains I wear, I feel a lot like Slave Leia in Star Wars.

*************
That's rough. Sorry Mary *evil grin*

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