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The forced slut

The forced slut

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WpMetadataReadOngoing<5 mins
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Tue, Dec 31, 2013
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Fiction
Social Themes
When people call other people sluts it's usually not true. But with me it is. But it's not my fault. I'm forced. When I was young I was kidnapped from France and taken to America where I have lived ever since. I don't remember my family and have never known love. At school I have friends but none of them know, and have never been over. They're like school only friends. Every thing is like a normal teenagers life but when I get "home" it's completely different. I get home do my homework and then at 5 is dinner and at 7 is when the "fun" begins. I put on my costume and go into the room and there is a party of about 10 people waiting for me. I turn on the music, dance and strip. Then I walk aground the circle giving a lap dance to everyone in the room male or female. Then the two body guards come in (also kidnaped and also teens) and tie me up. Then they make a bid and the highest bidder in the room gets one minute to touch me however they want. Then they can buy private dances in different levels. I started this when I was 13 I'm now 16 only three years but I've gotten pretty damn good. I lost my virginity when I was 13 to a stranger. I've had sex (unwillingly) like 20 times. Yes this is rape. No I haven't told anyone.
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"Alexia." Someone screams and soon I'm drenched in water. I gasp and sit up. My mom hugs me and I tensed. "Sorry." I whispered and relax. I was covered in sweat and water. It's almost been a year since I've been back home. I still have those terrors or should I say memories. That day has been scarred in my brain. I was only 7. I'm 17 now. But that memory has been haunting me for the past 3 days. My dad stood at the door watching silently. He gave me space and I loved how he cared enough to. Maybe it was the fact I had a panic attack once when he woke me. "Hi." I breath out. "Hey." He whispers. Long story short I was taken when I seven, a day after my birthday. I hadn't remember much about my family expected maybe my dad and two other boys who were, well are my brothers. But I've been in a cell obeying the rules of a monster for 10 years. It took a lot of therapy to just get me to say two words and stop hiding and running away 1 year of therapy to realize he can't hurt me now. "You can come in.." I say softly. He walks in and joins the hug. I sigh and lean into their touch. There's no doubt in my mind that I will be starting the sessions again.

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