“Scott. Are you going to mess with that stupid radio all night or are you coming with me to meet up with those girls for the party?” My friend David finished tucking in his shirt, then patted his butt to check to make sure he had his wallet.
I tapped the code key a few more times and then removed the headphones and set them on top of a small “ham radio” unit I’d set up on the hotel room’s desk. “Okay, okay. I’m done. Just wanted to let my Dad know how things were going down here.”
David pulled a cell phone from his pocket and said, “I use one of these little contraptions. Maybe you’ve heard of them? They even work down here in Aruba. And, they’re a lot easier to use and you don’t have to know Morse Code.”
I laughed as I stood up and said, “It’s my hobby, okay? My Dad infected me with ham radio when I was little.”
Frowning, David said, “Well, all I know is, that there are four bodacious chicks waiting on us while you fart with that stupid thing. Loosen up, man. This is our last Spring Break before we graduate. You shouldn’t even have brought that.”
I shrugged and said, “We wanted to see if this little rig would catch a signal this far from Texas. Using code lets me communicate with weaker signals and…”
David raised his hand to cut me off. He said, “I don’t want to hear it. I guarantee you those girls don’t want to hear it either. Let’s go.” David started to turn towards the door, but then stopped and turned back to look at me. Shaking his head, he said, “You’re not wearing another froo-froo shirt are you?”
I looked down my front and stretched my arms out from my sides and said, “Why? What’s wrong with this? My so-called froo-froo shirt last night is what got those girls to notice us in the first place.”
Frowning again, David said, “Really? Between the shirt and that stupid long, blonde hair of yours, they thought you were my girlfriend.”
“Do I embarrass you, Dave?” I said walking towards the room’s door. “I’m an art major. I like a little flare. Besides, at least this year we have girls hitting on us.”
“Don’t remind me,” said David. “Spring Break at Daytona was the worst ever with you attracting all those gay guys. Are you sure you’re not a twink?”
I laughed as we walked into the hotel hallway. I said, “I’m pretty sure. Come on though. You have to admit it was pretty funny when that one guy kissed you.”
David pretended to spit and said, “I still have nightmares. Come on. They’re waiting for us in the lobby.”
A minute later, the elevator doors slid open to the hotel’s lobby. Four girls were sitting on a couch in the middle of the lobby, talking animatedly. They all looked wonderful in their short dresses and high heels. One of the three blondes smiled and waved at us as we walked towards them. David had already let me know that the lone brunette, Jillian, was the target of his desires, although all four of the girls were extremely hot. They were all from different colleges and had met here at the hotel. I’m going to really miss Spring Break.
There was a club, just a few minutes away by cab, that was having a big party for everyone there on Spring Break with all the drinks half off. The girls had found out about it and invited us to come along with them.
“Good evening, ladies,” said David as we stood next to the couch. “Are we ready to get this party started?”
The four girls all smiled at him and Jillian said, “You bet!”
David grinned and said, “Well, let’s go, then!” He held out his hand to help Jillian up.
I held out both hands to help two of the other girls get up from the soft couch. As I offered to help the third girl, she flashed a glare at David and Jillian who were almost to the hotel entrance and said quietly, “Well, that’s rude.”
I smiled at the three girls and said, “I’m at your service, ladies!”
One of the girls, Chloe I think, said, “I like your shirt. I have one just like it.”
“Thank you, I think,” I said as we walked out of the hotel and onto the street.
David and Jillian had just climbed into a cab by themselves and had just closed the cab doors when we hit the street.
“David! Wait!” I shouted, but the cab pulled away and headed down the street.
Another girl, Kate, said, “That’s quite a friend you have there, Scott. He couldn’t wait another five seconds?”
I shrugged and said, “Well, we are all going to the same place. And the cab was kinda small.”
Kate folded her arms and said, “Still. We all just could have waited for a bigger cab. Like that one across the street.”
The driver of the indicated cab was walking across the street towards us. He stopped at the curb and said, “Ladies? Are you needing a taxi? I can fit all of you very comfortably in my cab.”
Chloe looked at me and giggled. I ignored her and said, “Sure. That’d be great. Thanks.”
We hurried across the street as the cabbie opened the doors for us. Kate stopped as she was about to climb inside.
“It looks a little dingy and dirty in here,” said Kate.
Rachelle, the third girl just laughed and said, “Where’s your sense of adventure?” Kate shrugged and we all climbed inside the taxi.
I told the cabbie our destination when he asked us where we wanted to go. He nodded, and started the clock on his dash and drove his cab into the street.
The street was brightly lit with clubs, cafés, hotels, you name it. People were everywhere, walking up and down the street.
I said, “We should have walked. It really isn’t that far and it’s a really nice evening for it.”
Rachelle said, “Not in these shoes!”
Kate laughed and said, “Where’s your sense of adventure?” We all laughed as Rachelle flipped Kate the finger.
A minute later, I saw the club. I could see David and the girl standing outside waiting for us. I said, “There it is, girls.”
And we drove past it.
I tapped on the glass separating us from the cabbie. I said, “Hey mister! You just passed it. Mister!”
He didn’t turn his head left or right. There was no way he couldn’t hear me. He turned down a dark side street. I pounded on the glass and shouted this time.
Chloe pulled on the door handled. She cried, “The doors are locked! Oh my God, we’re locked inside!”
I tried the door next to me and it wouldn’t open. There were no visible locks to pull up on the doors. The three girls began pounding on the glass between us the driver as they started screaming. The driver never looked around.
I looked out the taxi’s windows. The street was completely empty and dark. Most of the buildings lining the street looked abandoned. There had to be a lot of noise coming from that taxi, but there wasn’t anyone around to hear it.
A minute later and we were almost out of the town. The driver turned the taxi towards a large building on our left. The large, sliding door was already open and he drove the taxi on through the opening. All of us were beating on the window shouting “Please! Let us out!”
The driver parked the taxi in the middle of what appeared to be a large, empty warehouse. He turned the engine off and opened his door and got out. Everyone again started pounding on the windows and doors of the cab, shouting to let us out. The driver didn’t even cast a glance back at the cab as he walked through the doorway, and then slid the heavy steel door noisily closed, leaving us alone in the dark and quiet.
Gasping gulps of air, Kate said, “Oh my God! He just left us here! Why? Are we going to die here?”
“It’s too late to say don’t panic,” I said. “But let’s try to think. Anything in your purses hard or heavy enough to break this glass? Cell phones maybe?” Now that the shock was over, I reached into my own pocket for my cell.
“Shit!” exclaimed Chloe. “We all just brought clutches. We didn’t think we’d need our regular bags. But it’s not like we carry hammers anyway!”
The interior of the cab was suddenly lit up by four cell phones. In the light I could see the deep worry in the girls’ faces. We were all fearing the worst.
Rachelle said, “Shit. It says ‘no service’.”
Frowning, I said, “Mine too. It must be this steel building.”
Crying, Kate said, “What’s going to happen to us?”
Chloe said, “Use the light from your phone to look around. There might be something we can use to break the glass.”
I said, “Rachelle, help me pull on the seat cushions. Maybe we can get to the trunk and find a lug wrench or something.” We pulled and tugged, but the seat cushions weren’t budging.
Our breath was fogging up the taxi’s windows to the point where seeing outside the cab was next to impossible. The temperature was rising inside the car and we were all starting to glisten with sweat. In the light of Chloe’s cell phone, the girls all had dark lines streaming down their cheeks from crying.
I leaned back and raised both my legs. Frustration in my voice, I kicked the glass as hard as I could and shouted, “There has to be a way out of this fucking car!”
“Surely we’re not going to die here,” said Rachelle with a whimper. “There must be some reason he left us here.”
In the dim light, I could see Kate frown as she said, “Unfortunately, I can’t think of any reasons that have a happy ending.”
Another five minutes or so went by. None of us were moving or talking. The only sound was the four of us breathing. Suddenly, through the fogged over windows, I saw a shaft of dim light, like a door opening. It wasn’t the door we drove through, but a smaller door at one end of the building.
“Look!” I shouted, pointing in the direction of the light. “There’s someone here!”
The girls started up a chorus of “Help!”, “Let us out!”, “Please help us!”
Watching the light, it seemed like a half dozen figures entered the room. Their shoes echoing across the floor as they approached us. They just walked slowly towards us. No urgency at all in their step.
Chloe said, “I have a bad feeling about this.”
“Me too,” I said, watching one of the figures walk around the front of the car and then up to the driver’s door.
The only man wearing a suit slowly opened the driver’s door and reached in. All the figures were too dark to get any features. They appeared to all be wearing sunglasses, which was odd in the dark building. The man who opened the driver’s door, reached in and pushed a button or something. We heard the obvious sound of door locks releasing.
“Oh thank God!” shouted Rachelle as she hurriedly shoved the door next to her open and stepped out, followed by Kate. Chloe and I exited on the other side of the car.
Rachelle was crying as she approached one of the men. She said, “Thank you so much for rescuing us from that horrible taxi!”
I turned to the guy in the suit who appeared to be in charge. In the dim light he looked to be middle eastern. I said, “Are you with the police?”
Flashing me a toothy grin, the man said, “Not exactly.” He gave the other men a nod and they quickly grabbed me and the girls from behind and swiftly tied our wrists behind us using plastic zip ties. The man then held up a zip tie and laughed, “Great invention, these things.”
Chloe screamed, “What are you doing? Let us go!”
It all became clear. This warehouse was a drop-off point for human traffickers. They would probably kill me and take the girls, so I had nothing to lose at this point. As hard as I could, I rammed my foot behind me into the shin of the man holding me. He yelled with pain and let go of my arms. I started to run for the still open door at the other side of the warehouse. I figured I’d probably get a bullet in the back, but I had to try.
Faster than I thought he was capable of moving, suit guy reached out and grabbed my hair of all things. He jerked me back and I painfully fell backwards to the concrete floor.
Pointing a gun at my face, suit guy grinned and said, “Where do you think you’re going, blondie? I paid for four. Now get up and join the other girls.”
I laughed and said, “The joke’s on you, pal. I’m not a girl.”
Keeping the gun pointed at me, suit guy just shrugged and said, “I couldn’t tell in the dark, but I thought you might be a mith-lee. But no matter. You’re pretty enough to be a girl and my buyer likes surprises like you. Move over with the others.”
One of the other men pulled a roll of duct tape from a bag he was carrying and started pulling off short strips. He said, “Sorry to mess up your pretty lipstick, ladies. But we need you to be quiet.” He then slapped the tape over each of our mouths.
All the girls’ eyes were wild as we were herded across the warehouse. Even Kate who had been a trooper so far was making loud muffled noises and jerking her arms against the ties. I didn’t try. I knew it was useless. I saw suit guy toss a large envelope into the taxi onto the driver’s seat. The payment for delivering us, I guessed.
We exited the warehouse from the same door the men had entered. Waiting outside was a large, dark colored van. We were shoved unceremoniously into the van. Someone inside pushed a foul smelling rag against our faces and then all was blank…
“Welcome to Dubai ladies,” said a strange, balding man with a British accent. “This is your new home. So you can get the crying out of the way early, I’ll tell you that you will never see your homes, family or friends again. We own you.” We were all lying on mats in a small, windowless room. The girls and I slowly tried to sit up, blinking in the bright light.
“Dubai?” said Kate incredulously. “No. We were in Aruba. What’s going on?”
Crying, Chloe said, “What do you mean we’ll never see our family again? You have to let us go!”
I looked around the room. I could see the girls, the balding guy and two scruffy looking guys looking very out of place in sport coats and ties, wielding AK-47s. The girls and I were all naked. The tried to fold their arms to try to cover themselves.
The balding man smiled. He said, “Oh, I’m afraid we can’t do that, miss. We paid far too much for you. I must say, our agent in Aruba did such a good job this time around, we paid him a bonus.” He paused a moment as he waved his hand. He said, “Oh. Forgive my manners. I am Mr. Cabot. I’m one of the entertainment directors at this establishment and I’ll be in charge of your training and prepping you.”
Scowling, I said, “Training? For what? What is this place?”
Mr. Cabot smiled in my direction and said, “You are now a part of one of the most exciting and enchanting destinations in Dubai. Our clients come from the world over because we provide them only the most sexy and vivacious girls for their entertainment. Because of the high expectations of our clients, we just can’t drop you with one of them. We must prepare you and train you in the methods that provide our clients with the most value for their money.”
Kate stood up, wobbling slightly from the uneven mats on the floor. She yelled, “You sick fuck! This is a whore house! Listen baldy, we’re not whores! I demand you let us go now!” She clenched her fists and took a step towards Mr. Cabot.
The two scruffy men raised their weapons on ready. Mr. Cabot waved their guns down. Still smiling he said, “Let them rage. It’ll get it out of their system.”
Rachelle curled up into a ball on the mat and cried. “I just want to go home! I want my mom!”
Mr. Cabot laughed and said, “Mommy and Daddy can’t help you now. The sooner you understand that you’re never leaving here, the better off you’ll be. Just relax. We will take very good care of you here. We have a full medical and dental plan for you.” He laughed again.
Smiling again and spreading his arms wide, Mr. Cabot said, “Ladies. You are all exceptionally beautiful. Once you are trained, you are sure to be major attractions in our entertainment experiences.”
I stood up next to Kate. I waved a fist at Mr. Cabot and said, “You can’t get away with this! Our parents will force our government to demand our return!”
Mr. Cabot laughed heartily. He pointed at me and said, “You’re serious, aren’t you? No one knows where you are. The Cavalry isn’t going to arrive just in the nick of time to save you. Get this through your skulls. Whoever and whatever you were is no more. We own you. You will do as we tell you or you will suffer the consequences!”
Mr. Cabot walked quickly up to Kate and before she could react, he’d slapped across the face so hard, it knocked her backwards onto the mat. Sneering, he said to Kate and then looked around the room to each of us as he spoke. “This is lesson number one, little girl. You are nothing; a nobody. You will address me as either Sir, or Mr. Cabot. You do not make demands of me or any of my staff. You will do as you are told. You will not complain about anything we tell you to do. If not, you will be punished. We might inflict pain or we might withhold food or drink.
“Those that refuse to cooperate will be sold into the open slave markets. You will most likely will wind up a wife of a terrorist.” He pressed his fingertips together and continued, “None of us want any of that to happen now do we?”
I waved my fist and said, “Now look. We’re all U.S. citizens. I demand you release us.”
Mr. Cabot adjusted his glasses and gave me a toothy grin. He said, “Funny *and* cute. Oh, our customers are going to just love you.”
“I’m not a woman!” I said.
Mr. Cabot laughed and said, “You don’t think we can see that? As small as it is.” He laughed before continuing, “We’re an equal opportunity employer here, so why not bring you along too? Your cab driver got a bonus for delivering us a gorgeous femboy. We cater to all tastes here.”
Chloe screamed, tears streaming down her face, “Let us go, dammit! We’re not prostitutes!”
Mr. Cabot chuckled and said, “Not yet.”
I took a step forward and said, “You son of a bitch!”
Before I could even see him move, I was struck across the face with a stinging slap. It was just a slap, but it was very painful. I saw stars and staggered back. I was stopped by a slap? I felt ashamed.
Mr. Cabot’s face clouded with anger as he sneered, “We’ll have no insubordination here. You’ll notice that I left no mark on your face, yet you felt a great deal of pain, no? Trust me, we know what we’re doing here.”
Grinning again as the red in his face began to fade, Mr. Cabot pointed in front of him and said, “Okay ladies. Line up here in front of me.” He pointed at me and said, “That includes you!” We all looked at each other and around the room. The guards lifted their automatic weapons and pointed them at us. Feeling we had no choice, we all stood, naked, in a line before Mr. Cabot.
He walked up and down in front of while grinning broadly. He said, “Four gorgeous and very feminine specimens.” He turned to the guards and said, “We’ve struck gold here, gentlemen. These will be our top earners before long.”
Kate spat in Mr. Cabot’s face, splattering his mouth and glasses. She shouted, “Fuck you! I’m not going to be one of your fucking whores!”
Mr. Cabot licked the spit from his lips and casually removed his glasses and then wiped them with a cloth from his pocket. He gave Kate a serene smile and said quietly, “Oh, you will be begging men to fuck you.”
He then slapped her hard across the face, causing her to stagger back and drop down to one knee. She began to cry.
Mr. Cabot said, “Stand up bitch! Am I going to have to slap all of you? Trust me, I have no qualms about hitting whores. And believe me when I say, all of you will be begging to be fucked.” He looked over at me and grinned broadly. He said, “And I do mean all of you.”
He snapped his fingers and one of the henchmen opened a door I didn’t even know was there.
Smiling, Mr. Cabot pointed towards the door. He said, “Come girls. Let me show you your rooms. Your training starts immediately. First step is your evaluation. I have the honor and privilege of experiencing each one of you first. Then these gentlemen get a whack at you. Then we compare notes.”
Clinching my fists, I snarled, “Do you honestly expect us to just roll over and let you do whatever the hell you want with us?”
Mr. Cabot shrugged and said, “No. But you will.”
We were separated into our own private rooms. The rooms were pretty barren with no sharp or heavy objects that could be used as weapons. Soft, pleasant, but synthesized music floated from overhead speakers. A small bed, mounted to the floor in the center of the room was the only furniture. The walls were painted pink and lavender. No windows, of course.
I have no idea how long I sat on the bed, naked. The sheets were pink and satin. It wasn’t cold or too warm in the room. The light was at a comfortable level. There was one other doorway besides the entrance. It opened into a small bathroom with a toilet and a shower stall. There was no door to provide privacy.
I just sat there, legs drawn up in front of me. The waiting was starting to get to me. I figured that was part of it. For me to want anything to break the monotony. I wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction.
The door opened and in walked a tired looking, but otherwise grinning Mr. Cabot. He was followed by the two henchmen.
Smiling, Mr. Cabot said, “Good afternoon, Priscilla. Oh yes. I don’t know and I don’t care what name your parents gave you. Priscilla is now your name. We’ll call you Prissy for short.”
“Fuck you, shit bag!” I said, not raising my voice.
Mr. Cabot laughed and said, “I’m afraid you have that backwards, Prissy!” He nodded at the two men and before I could react, they had each grabbed an arm and pulled me to my feet. They spun me around and slammed me against the wall. Recessed in the walls were clamps and my arms were quickly secured at the wrist. I tried kicking my legs, but the two men were very strong and quickly secured my legs at the ankles with the same type of recessed clamps they had secured my arms with.
Mr. Cabot said, “We saved you for last, Prissy. You’ll be happy to know your companions all passed our evaluations. The one named Kate, who is now called ‘Sissy’, by the way, has quite a mouth on her. She was the only one we had to ball gag. I think breaking her and you will be the most fun.”
From behind me, Mr. Cabot said, “Oh, nice ass!” as he slapped my butt cheeks. He continued, “Nice. From your light skin and lack of any muscle tone, I can tell you’re a typical American male who suffers from naturephobia and spends all your time indoors playing games.” Sliding his hand along my butt, he said, “Being here isn’t going to be much a stretch for you, is it?”
And then without any warning, he proceeded to sexually abuse me. I’ve never experienced such pain before. Hearing Mr. Cabot laugh after my initial scream of pain, I then bit my lip. I bit so hard I could taste blood in my mouth. I wasn’t going to entertain this monster. With one final thrust, he finished his business. Despite myself, I couldn’t help but utter a cry.
Mr. Cabot laughed and said, “I love breaking cherries. Men are going to just love you, Prissy!” Turning to the other two men, Mr. Cabot said, “I can’t wait to see this one tarted up. Fuck her all you want. Just don’t damage her. Send me your notes, okay. I’m going to be late for my dinner meeting if I don’t leave now.”
As he walked out the door, Mr. Cabot slapped me on the butt again and laughed, “Have fun, Prissy!”
This treatment continued for a week or maybe more. I lost track of time. Between sleep and being fucked, we had unappetizing meals delivered, packaged such that we couldn’t use them to slit our own wrists or use as weapons.
About a week into what I can only call conditioning, a small dresser was brought in. It was pink with white trim and made of plastic. There we no sharp edges. It was mounted to the floor, I guess so I couldn’t throw it at anyone. And, none of the drawers could be fully removed.
The contents of the dresser was pretty simple. There were several pairs of lacy nylon panties with a matching nylon camisole.
I decided I wasn’t going to participate. I didn’t shower and there was no fucking way was I wearing lingerie.
The door slammed open, waking me up. Mr. Cabot stepped into my little room and he didn’t look happy.
He looked over his glasses at me and said, “Prissy, my dear. Why are you naked? Don’t you like the fine lingerie we have given you at our expense?” He sniffed the air and said, “And honey, you really need to shower. Some of our clients have peculiar tastes, but none that would tolerate that smell.”
Sitting on the bed, arms folded, I said, “I really don’t give a flying fuck what your clients want.”
Mr. Cabot grinned and said, “Now the little femboy wants to resist, doe she? Well, honey, we expect you to wear your nice lingerie when you’re not, um, being educated. And we expect you to shower at a minimum once per day.”
I didn’t look over at him. I said, “Fuck you.”
Smiling, Mr. Cabot said, “You make this too much fun, Prissy. The rest of the crew all thought you would have caved by now. But I stood up for you and said, ‘No. Prissy is a fighter.’ I won my bet. Thank you, Prissy. But now the fun and games must end. If you don’t earn your keep, we don’t keep you.”
“Let me go, then,” I said without emotion.
Mr. Cabot laughed. He said, “You’re funny. Try to keep that sense of humor after you start your life as a whore.”
Mr. Cabot snapped his finger and to my horror saw Chloe pushing a small cart with a tray of food on it. She was wearing a little French Maid outfit. I almost didn’t recognize her with all the make-up she was wearing. The dress was very short and her shoes were at least four inch high heels. She also smiling a rather vacant smile.
On the tray was an actual steak. Small, but a nice cut of sirloin. On the same plate were mashed potatoes and a scoop of corn. Next to the steak was a bowl of salad. It smelled wonderful! After weeks of the tasteless mush I’d been fed, my stomach immediately started growling.
Mr. Cabot’s face lit up as she rolled the cart into my room. He said, “Ah! Thank you so much, Bambi for bringing that in for Prissy. You are such a delight.”
Chloe smiled brightly at Mr. Cabot and curtsied. In a lusty voice she said, “Thank you sir. It’s always a pleasure to serve you!”
Pointing at Chloe, Mr. Cabot said, “Isn’t she adorable? Bambi was the first your little group to break and now she’s enjoying all the benefits.” Chloe, or I guess now Bambi, stood next to the cart and smiled vacantly. Mr. Cabot continued, “She now gets to leave the confines of her room. She gets real food to eat. She gets to clean tables in one of our many bars. She’s not entertaining men yet, but I’m confident she will soon. Take a good look, Prissy. This is your immediate future.”
I couldn’t take my eyes off the food. I said, “You’re insane if you think I’m going to prance around dressed like that.”
Looking at Bambi with a satisfied expression, Mr. Cabot said, “Trust me. You will. This is the first step of your conditioning. All the others are almost to this point. Sissy will probably be the next to one to this point. Disappointed really. I thought she’d be more of a fighter.”
Mr. Cabot stepped over to the cart and said, “I’m sure you’re wondering why we brought this wonderful meal to your room. Well, it’s a reward. Every day you don’t force me or my associates to strap you to the wall to fuck you, you get a nice meal. Pretty easy, huh? Real food for a fuck. We’re going to fuck you anyway. You might as well get something out of it, right?”
I swallowed as my mouth had been watering so much from staring at the steak. I sighed heavily and said, “Blow it out your ass.”
Mr. Cabot shrugged and said, “Suit yourself.” He snapped his fingers again and the two other men entered the room and slammed me against the wall and secured my arms and legs. Either these guys were getting stronger, or I was getting weaker. It seemed almost every day I found it harder and harder to resist them.
One of the men dropped his pants and began to have his way with me. Mr. Cabot took a knife and cut a slice from the steak and took a bite.
Closing his eyes and smiling, Mr. Cabot said, “Oh my. That really is a good steak. Most delicious. I’ll have to compliment the chef.” He cut another piece off and held it out to Bambi. He said, “Here you are my dear. Thank you for a job well done.”
Bambi took the piece of steak and slid it slowly into her mouth. She chewed it slowly and deliberately. She moaned as if eating the piece of meat was a sexual experience.
After Mr. Cabot was finished eating and the other two men had finished violating me, he stood up and dropped his pants. “You missed a delicious meal, Prissy.” As he slid inside me, he said, “This doesn’t stop either way. But you could start living a bit better. The choice is yours.”
A week went by before a new cart was pushed into my room with a food tray loaded with a plate of chicken fried steak with gravy and mashed potatoes and ice tea. This time, Kate or rather, Sissy, pushed the cart in. Like Bambi, she was wearing too much make-up and the ridiculously short French Maid’s outfit along with a blank smile.
Mr. Cabot pointed at the tray and said, “Just like momma used to make, eh? You know, I don’t think I’ve ever had this uniquely American entrée before. Smells delicious though, doesn’t it?”
God I was starving. I had no way to know how much, I knew I’d lost a lot of weight. Not that I had a lot to lose to begin with. I think I actually drooled looking at the tray of real food. There was a small mist of steam rising from the gravy on the steak. I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth.
I took a deep breath and said, “Okay, Mr. Cabot. You win. You won’t have to restrain me any longer.”
Grinning, Mr. Cabot said, “Excellent! I knew you were a smart girl! After sex, you may eat. And then please, please, please, take a shower.”
One of the men dropped his pants to the floor and slid into bed with me. I spread my legs open for him. I glanced over at Sissy, and despite the fixed smile, I saw a tear run down her cheek.
“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.
Whack!
The strike on my face stung like hell and jarred my vision.
Whack!
Mr. Cabot struck me on the other side of my face with the back of his hand. I tasted the iron tang of blood in my mouth.
“How dare you! You stupid, traitorous bitch!” I could feel the hot breath and spittle that emanated from Mr. Cabot’s mouth as he screamed at me. He grabbed my hair and jerked my head back. I was naked and secured to a chair so he could walk around in a circle and curse at me. The room was small and dark with a table next to me. I couldn’t tell if we were alone or not.
While my neck and hair hurt from his strong pull, he pushed his face almost against mine and hissed, “I gave you everything! I fed you. I gave you a place to live. I personally trained you to be the best fucking whore you could be. Were you not getting everything you wanted? A nice room. Great food. All the men you’d ever want to fuck?” He let go of my hair and spat on me.
I tried hard not to cry. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. But I couldn’t stop the tears or the cry in my voice from the pain. I felt sure I was about to die. In a small, pain wracked voice, I looked down at the floor and softly said, “I just want to go home.”
Mr. Cabot slapped me again and shouted, “You are home, bitch! This is your only home from now on!” He paced back and forth in front of me, glaring. I just closed my eyes and cried.
He grabbed my face and shouted, “Look at me! What are we going to do with you, huh? I have a huge investment in turning you to become a cock craving little fag bitch. No, no. Don’t deny it. I’ve watched you. The way you flirt and come on to men. You’re way beyond your conditioning. You want it now. I told you, you’d wind up begging for it. And now you try to run away? That’s how you repay my generosity?”
I didn’t say it, but he’s delusional if he thinks I crave sex with men. I’m playing the system. I was doing what I could to not just survive, but thrive under these horrible circumstances. And then I saw an opportunity and I jumped at it. I should have realized that any politician that would show his face at a place like this would be a douche. I’m ashamed of what I have become.
Crying, I said, “Please don’t hurt me anymore.”
Mr. Cabot stroked his chin and said, “Maybe I should just sell you. There are places in Asia that love girly boys like you. But the girls there aren’t taken care of like they are here. And I wouldn’t get my investment back.” He cupped my breasts and squeezed them. He continued, “Whatever shall I do, Prissy? I mean, sometimes you just have to cut your losses, right?” He picked up a long bladed knife from the table he was leaning against. He twirled the knife with the point of the blade resting against his finger tip.
Still crying and in a small voice, I said, “Please don’t kill me. I won’t ever try to run away again. I promise.”
Mr. Cabot leaned towards me, still twirling the knife. He said, “What was that, Prissy? I’m afraid I didn’t quite catch that.”
A little more loudly, I said, “I won’t try to run away again. I promise. Please don’t hurt me anymore.”
“Tsk, tsk,” said Mr. Cabot clucking his tongue. “You don’t sound very contrite. I don’t think you mean that. I mean seriously. What good is a promise from you, eh?”
I cried out, “I’m sorry! I’m so fucking sorry! It was stupid of me to run after you have done so much for me. I’m begging you to forgive me. I’ll never run away again. All I want is to be fucked by men.”
Mr. Cabot laughed. “I love to hear you beg. Both for mercy and for sex!” He ran a finger around my breast. He continued as he shook his head, “It’s a stretch to try to consider that you were once ever a real man. No one would ever be confused about that now. Not after seeing this sobbing lump of sissified pussy. It brings shame to the word ‘man’ to even suggest you were ever considered one.”
Mr. Cabot laughed heartily. He said to someone I couldn’t see, “Take this piece of shit back to her original room and secure her to the wall. Everyone can have their way with her for next day or so while she’s just hanging around. But make sure she’s always conscious.”
“Thank you,” I sobbed as I dropped to my bed after hanging on the wall for two days straight. My arms were sore from hanging and my ass was on fire. They kept the blood circulating by releasing a leg or an arm every couple of hours.
I wanted to murder Mr. Cabot, but instead I thanked him. For two days I’d been in hell. More hell than normal.
The men who took me from the wall left the room. I was too weak and sore to attack Mr. Cabot and he knew it. He walked over to edge of the bed and said, “Take a few days to rest up, Prissy. There’s a cart with food on it, though it’s not the good stuff you’re used to. I do have a proposition for you.” He sat on the bed next to me. I couldn’t move I was so tired. He pulled down his pants.
As he abused my ass, he said, “I’m a believer in second chances, Prissy. You were one of my best girls, with tons of promise. I was going to move you to the next level ahead of schedule because you were proving yourself so well. But to do that requires a little change on your part. Management wants everyone on that elite, high-priced tier to have a pussy. And since I’m a big, generous type, I’ll let you decide. Sounds fair, right?”
I couldn’t even bring up enough strength to grunt at this point as he continued to abuse me.
Mr. Cabot said, “Here’re your choices, Prissy. You can elect to have the procedure that will leave you with a pussy, which we can do right here in our little infirmary, or I can cut my losses and sell you to a Somali warlord. If you take the pussy and are not loyal and not the best girl you can possibly be, I’ll just give you to someone worse. Do we have a deal?”
I started to cry again. I didn’t want a sex change. But the other choice was surely death. As Mr. Cabot made his final thrust, I moaned, “Deal.”
“Excellent choice,” said Mr. Cabot with a laugh.
He left me alone in my room as I cried.
I was exhausted. To punish me further, before I got my gender re-assigned, Mr. Cabot made me his busiest prostitute. I only got an hour of sleep per day over several days of serving a never ending parade of men. Sometimes groups of men. And if I failed to perform to their expectations, Mr. Cabot would personally come to slap me around. The lesson was learned. I would never attempt to escape again. Even if they held the door open.
When the parade finally ended, I fell into a hard, dreamless sleep. I was worn out. I have no idea how long I slept. I doubt it was very long when Mr. Cabot noisily burst into my room.
“Time to wake up, little Prissy!” said Mr. Cabot in a cheery voice. “You have one more customer before you have your surgery. It’s a special request. If you want to have a real meal today and maybe a few hours of real sleep, you will give this customer your absolute best performance. Am I clear?”
I mockingly gave him a salute and said, “Clear, Mr. Cabot.”
He frowned at me, but only said, “He’ll be here in fifteen minutes. Fix your make-up. You look like shit.”
It felt good to wash my face. It woke me up a bit too. I sat at my vanity and quickly applied my make-up. I looked at my pretty, girlish face, felt my boobs and looked around my small room and wondered for the billionth time just who in the universe I had pissed off to get me here.
I had just sat on my bed when the door opened and in walked my next customer. A cold shock went down my spine. I felt disgusted that I’d have to serve this man. It was my Congressman.
The Congressman smiled broadly at me and said, “Well, well. If it isn’t my favorite little faggot. You do look beautiful, though not as elegantly dressed as the last time I saw you. You’re on the house, remember? I arranged a little junket to the UAE just so I could fuck you. Pretty generous of the taxpayers, eh?”
I narrowed my eyes as I looked at him, but I held my tongue knowing the consequences of saying what I was thinking. Instead, I pulled off my camisole, and smiling, I slid to the middle of my bed, waving a hand to indicate that he join me.
The Congress started to remove his shirt. He said, “Mr. Cabot assures me that you’re one of his best whores. I certainly hope so. I was in our state just last week. It’s gorgeous there this time of year. But the whores there just didn’t do it for me.”
He dropped his pants and laughed as he climbed onto my bed. Grinning, he said, “I’m going to do to you physically, what I’ve been doing to the taxpayers financially!” He laughed.
I hated every second with this man, with every fiber of my being. But I dutifully gave him the best blowjob I could muster and did every trick I could think of while he fucked me. In the end, I jerked him off so he could fill my mouth. As I swallowed, I imagined holding a gun to his head and decorating the room with his tiny brain.
Breathing hard, the Congressman slowly brought himself to his feet. As he pulled his underwear back up and out of breath, he said, “That was excellent. You are a very talented whore. Mr. Cabot asked me to rate you. I’m giving you eleven out of ten stars.”
That evening, after using almost an entire bottle of mouthwash, I sat down to the best dinner I’ve had since my attempt to escape. I’m never being that stupid again.
I had to serve the Congressman four more times that week.
I was in pain. I slid my hand down to my crotch and lightly felt the bandages. It was gone. It was really gone. Well, the doc told me he wasn’t removing it; only repurposing it. Still, my lifelong faithful companion was gone, never to return.
I was told that in a week, they’ll remove the packing from my new vagina and then I’ll start the chore of dilation, which he said, I’ll have to do for the rest of my life. In hindsight, maybe I should have taken the Somali warlord.
Two weeks into my recovery, while I was in the process of performing my new dilation ritual, Mr. Cabot walked into the small clinic room I was resting in.
He smiled at me and said, “Good afternoon, girl. How are you feeling?”
Through narrowed eyes I said, “Like shit.”
Mr. Cabot just nodded and said, “That’ll pass.” He picked up one of the dilators and looked at it. He said, “This looks like fun.”
I pulled the dilator from my new vagina and said dourly, “It’s not.”
Mr. Cabot took the dilator from my hand and sniffed it. He said, “Don’t be so sad, Prissy. You’re starting a new adventure in your life.”
Pointing at my crotch I said with restrained anger, “Why did you do this? Give me an honest answer for fucking once. You’re always bringing in women. I don’t wish to condemn them to this hell, but why change my sex? I just don’t get it!”
Mr. Cabot paused for a moment and looked thoughtful. He smiled slightly and said, “For several reasons, actually. One, the clients who like chicks with dicks are wanting newer girls. They’re always looking for something new and different. We have a lot invested in you, in training and such, and you show so much potential, that selling you off at this point would be a loss for us. Since you are one of our best performing girls, with or without a dick, we have decided you warrant an additional investment. We’re a few girls short for our elite clients. Some of your customers have been asking when you’ll be available for their private parties and orgy get-a-ways. You’re popular, Prissy. You seemed to have found your calling in pleasing men. And in all seriousness, I think you’ll enjoy being one of our elite girls.”
I seriously doubted I’d ever *enjoy* being a whore at any level. I said, “Why would you ever be short of women? From when I had to deliver food to the new ones, I know you bring in a lot of women every month. What happens to the ones at the top?”
Mr. Cabot patted my thigh and said, “You needn’t worry your pretty little head about that. But since you asked, some girls quite frankly just don’t adjust well and we have to sell them before we invest too much in them. Just like one of your friends. I’m sure you heard about her. And sadly sometimes our clients get too rough with a girl and unfortunately she dies. The client is expelled for six months if that happens. Some girls, like Misty who helped you with your make-up lessons, get assigned other duties when they stop making money as an escort. And some of our clients are so enamored with a girl that they purchase them for their own collections.”
“None ever escape?” I said.
Mr. Cabot frowned and said, “Talk like that will get you sold to pirates or terrorists, so for your sake, don’t mention that again. And no, there are no escapes. And I know you don’t believe this now, but the girls on the elite level love it. They really do. And you will too. There are no sailors on liberty or drunken tourists on the elite level. You’ll like it. Trust me.”
I laughed for the first time in weeks.
After being released from the clinic, I’d spent the next two weeks alone in my room with only the food delivery girl being my only human contact. And she wouldn’t talk. She’d only give me that vacant smile.
One of the girls serving me food was Sally. She must be giving them a lot of resistance because she should have moved up from that position weeks ago. Still, from the attitude she was giving them, I’m surprised they were able to break her to this level. They take pleasure in breaking people. As with the Borg, resistance is futile.
While I was dozing on the bed, Mr. Cabot entered without knocking. He was carrying a red sequined evening gown and matching heels. He smiled at me as he placed the dress and shoes on the chair.
Mr. Cabot said, “Before we get on with the reason I’m here, Prissy. Let’s give your new pussy a test run, shall we?”
I knew I had no choice in the matter and that resisting him would only lead to more punishment, so I dutifully removed the camisole I was wearing and slid my panties down as I watched him remove his pants. He already had an erection.
From his pants pocket he removed a tube of lubricant and spread it on his massive hard-on. He said, “It’s always my pleasure to be the first on these new pussies. So let’s get to it.”
It was quite a different feeling when his cock slid inside my pussy. There was only a bit of pain at first and as he slid his cock in and out of me, he also pressed against my new clitoris which began to fill me with a pleasure I’d never experienced before. Considering how he’d treated me before, he was gentle at first and attentive to me. He massaged my breasts and sucked on the nipples as he continued to pump his huge cock into me. As he increased his rhythm, I found myself desiring to being fucked harder. All the hormones I had been forced to take, all the conditioning had finally broken that last resistance.
I felt a swelling of pleasure building up inside me. It was far more intense than any orgasm I had ever had before. Just as it burst into full orgasm, Mr. Cabot released his load with massive thrust into me. I dug my nails into his back and moaned loudly. I’ve never had an experience so intense before. I didn’t want it to end.
Mr. Cabot kissed me as he rolled to one side, his cock growing limp as it slipped out of me. He smiled and said, “I knew you’d enjoy that. By the time you reach this point, you’re already a woman. The surgery is just the icing on the cake.”
He got up and started to get dressed. I just lay there, trying to catch my breath. I was also very pissed at myself for enjoying being fucked my Mr. Cabot. But I couldn’t deny it.
Mr. Cabot grinned at me and said, “Go take a shower and freshen up. Then do your pretty face and wear this gown. I have something to show you.”
We stepped off the elevator into a lobby I’ve never seen before. There were over a dozen women dressed elegantly in gowns like me moving about or sitting with men dressed in suits.
Gesturing with his arm, Mr. Cabot said, “This is your new area, Prissy. You’re now a high-priced escort. You’ll have a new room. Clients can give you gifts if they desire. We have a five star hotel that caters to only the world’s wealthiest. Adjoining the hotel is a five star restaurant. There are also private rooms with gorgeous views. Hotel guests can request a companion for the evening to dine with. Sometimes they want their companion to provide additional entertainment. At our night club, we get some of the world’s most famous celebrities to entertain. And this is where some of our guests can request from our roster of girls, entertainers for their private parties, sometimes in exotic locations. Our girls cover Europe and Asia. You are going to love it here, Prissy.”
With my mouth hanging open, I walked across the lobby to the wall of windows looking out from the Dubai Tower. I said, “Oh my God. This is incredible!” It was the first time I’ve seen the outdoors since I was in Aruba. I had no idea how long that had been.
Mr. Cabot stepped next to me and said, “We’re a hundred and ten floors up. Beautiful view, isn’t it?”
“You can see the curvature of the earth,” I said stunned by the view. I looked straight down, but it made me dizzy.
Mr. Cabot smiled at me and said, “It was worth it to get here, right?” His cell phone buzzed and he looked at the text message. He said, “Wander around and make yourself at home. I have some business to attend to it seems.” He turned and walked away, leaving me alone in an open area for the first time. No guards. No handlers.
I stood there for several minutes just staring out the window. It was amazing to see sunlight again. Just to know there was a world outside these walls lifted my spirits. I tried not to think about home.
“Prissy!” said a familiar voice from behind me. I turned around to see the smiling face of Mr. Yar’Adua. He continued, “If it isn’t my favorite girl. Welcome to the millionaires club, Prissy. I think you’ll be happy here.” He leaned in and gave me a quick kiss.
I smiled at him. Mr. Yar’Adua was one of the nice ones who always treated me well, as well as anyone can treat a sex slave. I said, “I sure hope so. It’s nice to finally get out of that small room and actually see outside.”
He smiled back and said, “I know you will. You look absolutely stunning. I’m glad you’re here now. I’ll be sure to add you to my list of girls I’m having brought to my party in three months on the island of Crete. The girls always love my parties.”
I smiled brightly and said, “Oh, thank you! I’ll look forward to it!” While it may be as a prostitute, going to a Mediterranean island sounded wonderful.
He looked me up and down with a hungry look in his eyes. He said, “Are you free now?”
I shrugged and said, “I don’t know. I just got here.”
Mr. Yar’Adua smiled warmly at me and said, “Wait here. I’ll go find out.” He walked away headed for the lobby. After a few minutes, he returned.
Grinning wide, Mr. Yar’Adua said, “You’re included in my room charge. Come with me.”
He took my hand and led me to his room. I was actually starting to tingle from excitement. In his room was a huge, luxurious bed and another spectacular view from his window.
Once in his room and still standing, he started to kiss me. I put my arms around his neck and returned his kisses. When he pressed into me and I felt his hard-on pushing against my crotch, it brought a whole new set of emotions to me. While his kissing intensified, he slowly unzipped the back of my dress. He started to kiss and suck on my neck. He then slid the dress’s straps from my shoulders exposing my breasts. He pulled back slightly to let me unbutton his shirt and pulled it open exposing a chest full of hard muscle. When the tips of my breasts touched the flesh of his chest, it was like an electric shock flowing through me. I was overwhelmed with desire.
He removed his shirt and then kissed my breasts and sucked on one nipple. He then lowered himself and finished pulling my dress down. He slowly slid my panties down to my ankles. He then slid his tongue into where no one has even put a tongue before. He then sucked on my clitoris. I gasped and got weak in the knees as he performed cunnilingus on me. I moaned with pleasure.
Smiling, he stood up and led me to his bed where he pulled the sheets back. I slid on top of the bed while he stepped out of his pants. He slid next to me and began to kiss and suck on my breasts while with a free hand, he found my clitoris and started massaging it. I started breathing hard. He was driving me wild with pleasure and desire. Mr. Cabot had dispensed with doing any foreplay, but I found it to be the best part of having sex as a woman.
When Mr. Yar’Adua finally slid his massive cock into me, I was worried that he was going to be too big for me. It was tight, but he went in. But oh. My. God. While Mr. Cabot had merely gone through the motions of fucking, Mr. Yar’Adua was an absolute master at sex. The level of pleasure he was bringing me to was amazing.
While in my previous life, I never even once wondered what it was like to be a girl, and I had enjoyed sex as a man, I found myself wishing I had made this change sooner. I was so overwhelmed with new pleasures. I found myself desiring the pleasures of even more men. The culmination of all the feminizing drugs and the surgery had finally synced. I held nothing back. I used every little trick on pleasing men I could do.
He let me climax and then with a final powerful thrust he exploded inside me. I cried out in total pleasure. Hearing him moan as well brought intense satisfaction to me. He remained hard while still inside me for awhile as he continued to kiss me.
Finally he rolled off and sighed deeply. Sounding winded, Mr. Yar’Adua said, “Oh baby. You were fantastic. You know exactly how to pleasure a man. You were good before baby. But now you’re amazing. Simply amazing.”
He fucked me four more times before he had to leave to back to his home.
I yawned and stretched while lying on my satin sheets. The morning light was just starting to creep into my room. I sat up slowly as I was still sore from the night before when I had to have sex with a group of four men.
I looked around my room in the gathering light. I lost track of time and had no idea how long it had been since becoming a woman. I’ve been with several dozen men since becoming a high end prostitute. I felt less like a sex slave though. I had a nice room with a beautiful view. Men gave me gifts ranging from stuffed animals to jewelry, which I got to keep. A little unsteady, I got up and walked over to the window. The view, as usual was gorgeous with the early morning sunlight casting long shadows on the cityscape below me.
While looking out the window, I ran my hand down the smoothness of the black satin nightie I was wearing. A strange feeling of melancholy had taken hold of me and I wasn’t sure why. My life was so much better now than it was when I first arrived here. Granted I still basically a prisoner, but I had freedom to move about. The men I saw weren’t abusive to me. I got to see performers in our nightclub that I would never have seen otherwise. Mr. Yar’Adua’s party on Crete was wonderful with lots of gorgeous men to play with. And his wasn’t the only place I got to travel to. It felt good to be so in demand.
I knew what was coming on and it was dangerous for me to have such thoughts. No matter how well things were going, every once in a while I couldn’t stop the thoughts of home. I wondered what my parents were doing. Was my brother still in the band at school? Was he dating girls now? He was such a spaz so probably not. Did Dad still go camping up in the mountains during the summer? I missed my mom. We always had such great conversations. I miss her meals. She made one mean chicken fried steak. And what would Dad think of me, his oldest son, now a woman, gleefully having sex with as many men as I could? I know I shouldn’t think of such things.
I felt a tear roll down my cheek as I stared out the window. I finally turned away from the magnificent view and fell onto my bed and cried.
“Let’s get this party started,” said Mr. Walters as he emerged from below deck on his fifty foot yacht. We were anchored off the coast of Sicily, the day was heading towards sunset and it was absolutely gorgeous.
Three other girls and I had arrived in the Mediterranean by a sea plane late Friday afternoon and transferred to Mr. Walters’ yacht. He had hired us out for just him for the weekend on his private yacht. It was small enough so he didn’t need a crew or a captain.
There was champagne and wine available and the other girls were making good use of it. Like always, I just pretended to drink any alcohol. I always wanted to have a clear head. Especially floating in the middle of a sea.
Mr. Walters grinned from ear-to-ear as he looked at each of us. We were all standing on the smaller, sun deck. He said, “Wow. Four of the most sexy and beautiful women on the planet and I don’t have to share any of them for a whole weekend! Take off those bikinis, girls. I want to see nothing but tits and pussies.”
We all giggled as we stripped. We were far enough out to not be seen. It didn’t really matter anyway as we’d all long since lost our shyness or any sense of modesty.
Mr. Walters pointed at me and said, “You’re Prissy, right? I was told you give the best head of anybody. Let’s start with you.” He pulled down his swim trunks revealing a smaller than average penis. Us girls all gave each other a quick and knowing look and smiled. Mr. Walters sat down and pointed at his penis. He said, “Let’s do it!”
I got down on my knees and proceeded to give him the best blowjob I could manage. He was considered a very high value client and we were all told to make sure he was more than just satisfied. Breathless after he’d finished, he said, “Oh my God they were right. I’m requesting you the next time I’m in the UAE for business. I’m going to have rest up after that, girls. Let’s see how you girls are at kissing. Except you, Prissy. There’s mouthwash below decks.”
That evening we dined on steak and lobster that Mr. Walters had flown in special and lowered by helicopter. This guy really knew how to enjoy his money. While we ate, he told us tales of his wild adventures around the globe. Personally I didn’t believe anything he said. He struck me as someone who’d just attained wealth and wanted to act like a playboy. I didn’t mind. It got me outside.
“Okay, girls. It’s time to check out my bed,” said Mr. Walters with grin. “Trust me, it’s big enough for all of us. Follow me.”
As we entered the cabin where the ship’s controls and electronics were, I innocently pointed at the row of electronics and said, “Are these radios? Why so many?”
Always happy to brag about his toys, Mr. Walters paused our descent to his private quarters and said, “When you’re out in the middle of the ocean, you don’t want to be without communications. This is my maritime radio which has saved my bacon at least once. That’s a shortwave and amateur radio. These smaller sets are CB and two meter, which except for occasional skip on the CB aren’t much use out here.”
An idea was slowly creeping into my head as I looked at the equipment and said, “Don’t you need microphones to use these?”
Mr. Walters wagged his finger at me and said, “Naughty girl! Mr. Cabot insisted I lock up any microphones in case someone got a bright idea. Honestly though, all this equipment is far too hard for a bunch of stupid whores to use. But it’s in the contract to lock them up.”
My heart sank. I had the sudden and dumb idea of using the maritime radio to call for help. I sighed. Mr. Cabot thinks of everything. Thinking of escape is stupid anyway. I’m probably living much better than I would have normally. And frankly, I have to admit that I love having sex with men. How else could I ever been able to afford the multiple trips to the Mediterranean otherwise? If the price is a blowjob, then hurt me again.
One of the other girls saw something behind the shortwave set and picked it up. She gave it an odd look as if it was something bizarre to her. She said, “What is this thing?”
Mr. Walters smiled and took it from her. He said, “That’s like a telegraph key. You hook it up to the shortwave and send Morse Code. I’ve only used it a couple of times when the frequencies were just too noisy for voice.”
A cold spike shot down my spine when I saw the key. I tried to force thoughts of home from my mind after seeing the key. I tried to convince myself yet again that I’m just a prostitute and that’s all I’ll ever be and that I don’t have a home, or parents anymore. I don’t. I don’t…I don’t…
Mr. Walters said, “I should lock this up too, although I doubt any of you bimbos would know Morse Code.” He looked at me in my mental torment and said, “You okay, Prissy? You look sick.”
I shook my head to clear it. I said, “No, no. I’m fine. I guess I just ate too fast.”
Frowning, Mr. Walters said, “Let me know if you’re getting sick. I don’t want you to get the rest of us sick.”
I said, “I’m fine. Really.”
We all followed Mr. Walters down to his private cabin. The bed was amazingly large. I think he had the guest cabin removed to expand his own cabin. I couldn’t take my eyes off Mr. Walters’ hand where he held the telegraph key.
“Climb aboard the bed, girls,” he said. He laughed as he patted his naked leg and muttered, “Hmm. I don’t seem to have my keys on me.” I watched as he opened one of his dresser drawers and dropped the key into it. He then opened a small fridge and removed a wine bottle and popped the cork.
We all started giggling and playing with his little boy penis and kissing him. Mr. Walters passed around the wine bottle and everyone took a slug from it except me. I just pretended. This is one night for sure that I needed a clear head. All my conditioning and even my own conviction that I was actually happy rebelled against my thoughts.
The others couldn’t see the war raging in my mind. Knowing that I’m only a whore who loves pleasing men versus wanting to end my slavery and go home. And how could I go home like this? A whore. A tarted up whore who can’t remember how many men she’s slept with. I doubted my parents would even want me back like this. I surrendered. I have no home to go back to. This is my life now.
I sat up on the bed in the dark. The others were all asleep in their drunken stupors. I just sat there, unable to sleep and idly twirling my hair, my emotions raw. I stared at the drawer on the dresser that held the telegraph key. I started to cry as I mentally told myself again that I was only a whore. Nothing more. What time was it back in the states? Dad probably isn’t even on the radio.
I slid slowly from the bed, and walked over to the dresser. I stood there just staring at the drawer for several minutes. I started to reach for the drawer’s handle and stopped. Mr. Cabot will punish me, I thought. He’ll take away my elite status. He might even sell me to someplace worse. No. It’s best to just stay a blonde bimbo and do what I do best. I started to turn away from the dresser.
I took two steps from the dresser and stopped. “You moron!” I hissed aloud. I can’t pass up this chance. I turned back to the dresser and set my jaw and gritted my teeth. I suddenly jerked the drawer open and felt around inside. I found the key and quickly pulled it out. I stared at it in the dim light for several moments, rolling it in my hand. I then ran up to the upper deck to the shortwave radio.
I found headphones nearby and plugged them in and placed them over my ears. I plugged the telegraph key into the receptacle and turned the radio on. As I rolled through the frequencies, I heard the familiar hiss, crackles, music, odd voices, and unintelligible single side band transmissions until I reached the freq that I knew Dad liked to use to “talk” to friends using code.
I listened for several minutes to some code being tapped out. I tried to follow in my head, but it’s been too long and I could only catch a few words. I looked around frantically for a pad and a pencil. There was a pad in a drawer under the radio and I started to write down the words. At first it was hard, but it all started coming back to me.
It got quiet and I rested my finger over the button to tap out code. I hesitated, not wanting to violate the promise I’d made to myself to accept my life as it is. I took a deep breath and tapped out my call sign along with “CQ CQ CQ”
I’m sure I was not following proper protocol, but I just wanted to get my signal out. I didn’t know how much time I had.
Faintly, just above the noise level, I heard code that when I read it back, was asking for me to repeat my call sign. I did so.
“scott…that you?”
“yes”
“omg…it’s dad”
I just sat there, numb for a few moments. It was my dad who was answering me back. I looked up and noticed above the radios was a clock showing Zulu time. Back in the day, Dad would usually get on the radio about this time.
I tapped out, “dad…thank god!”
“where r u? what hppnd?”
“I was kidnapped. Long story.”
“thnk god ur alive”
“yes alive”
“u safe?”
“for now. Dad…I’m different”
“different?”
Being as brief as possible and still be comprehensible, I told Dad about being forced into being a sex slave in Dubai and that now I’m a woman. It took several tries before Dad understood what I meant.
It seems that Dad had been getting on the radio every day at his usual time and other times when he could hoping against hope that he might hear from me. The authorities had recommended that I be declared to be presumed dead. Unbelievably, I’ve been in Dubai for almost three years. Dad never gave up hope in all that time.
“I’m coming for you,” tapped Dad.
“don’t”
“y not?”
“these are evil people. They’ll just kill you and probably me too.”
“I can’t let you stay there.”
“Yes you can. I’m just a whore now dad”
“ur my son. I can…” the signal then faded in a roar of background noise that made further communications impossible.
I sat there in front of the radio, listening to the static for several minutes. I couldn’t hear further signals. I was glad that Dad finally knew I was alive. I mentally slapped myself for failing to tell him I loved him and Mom. Still listening to the noise, I cried for several more minutes. Finally, I switched off the radio and unplugged the headphones and key. I looked through the drawers under the radios until I found a large washer. I folded the papers I’d written on so they’d fit inside the hole of the washer. I then tossed it overboard and watched it sink into the black waters.
Still numb from my emotional rollercoaster, I made my way to Mr. Walters’ private cabin. I put the key back into the drawer. I then curled up next to Mr. Walters in his bed and fell asleep.
“You again? Mr. Cabot must think you’re the only whore I want.”
I looked up from the lounge chair I was relaxing in to see my least favorite Congressman standing beside me. I stood up, smoothing down the front of my gown. I said, “You can always go to the receptionist and ask for a change.”
He looked me up and down and said, “Oh no. You’re fine. You’re gorgeous in fact. It’s just interesting that you’ve gone from a fag pretend woman to a fag fake woman.”
I smiled at him and said, “All the times you’ve fucked me, I’d be careful tossing that word ‘fag’ around. And I’m hardly a fake woman. In fact, I’m more woman than you can handle.”
The Congressman laughed. “No such thing. Oh, but hey. Since you’re a ‘woman’”, the Congress man made quotation marks in the air. “You’d love it back home in our state this time of year. All the wildflowers are in bloom. The temperature is perfect. But you’re here instead.”
I refused to let him goad me. I smiled and said, “I don’t have a ‘back home’ anymore. I love pleasing men. Occasionally they make me fuck politicians too.”
He took my hand and started leading me back to his hotel room. “Let’s see if you have that fire in the sack.”
I really didn’t want this creep to touch me. I knew Mr. Cabot was testing me; to see if I’d refuse a client. I did have that option being an elite escort and all. But he frowned on it and a few girls who refused too many were sent back to haunt the hospitality rooms instead. I just wanted to strangle the Congressman, but there are strict policies against murdering clients.
Once in his room, the Congressman started groping my breasts while I was still dressed and kissing me. I could just be a limp dish rag, but I had taken a personal pride in what I give men. Even varmints like this one. He actually seemed surprised when I came on strong to him. In fact, it was my intent to rape him.
And rape him I did.
He wasn’t expecting me to come on so aggressively to him. I was the one in control, not him. He struggled to keep up and his first ejaculation was pre-mature. I kept at him until he came a second time and I could tell it was difficult for him. I only slowed down after his obviously painful third time.
He rolled back from me, exhausted and groaning, but not from pleasure. Gasping for air with his eyes closed, The Congressman muttered, “You *are* more woman than I can handle. Oh my God, Prissy. You’re like fucking a lioness.”
I slid out of bed, and started sliding my panties back on. As I started to step into my gown, I said, “Call me when you’re ready for round two.”
That was the last time I had sex with the Congressman.
I smiled seductively when I saw him approach me. I’d only been with Mr. Farnsworth twice before, but he was definitely on my list of favorite clients. He was the most gorgeous man, great build, and well muscled. I have to admit that I’m a sucker for muscles. Not body builder type muscles. But firm, tight and powerful muscles. This guy was a hunk deluxe.
He grinned as he stepped up next to me. He said, “And so we meet again, Prissy.” He bent down and kissed me. His touch sent an electric spike down my spine.
“It’s great to see you again, Farnsy,” I said, calling him by my little nickname for him. Even in heels, his massive, masculine frame towered over me.
Farnsy ran his hand through my long flowing hair. He grinned at me and said, “I don’t know how one place can have so many beautiful girls with you the loveliest of them all.”
I blushed. I don’t blush often anymore, but he made me blush. I just wanted to melt into his arms. He was one of the few men who treated me more like he would his girlfriend than just a prostitute. While I knew there was no chance at anything between us, I have to admit that I loved this man.
He took my hand and we went up to his hotel room. As soon as he closed the door, he started kissing me passionately. I slid my arms sensuously around his neck as we kissed. He reached behind me and slowly unzipped my dress. He pressed into me to show me he already had a massive hard-on. I kissed him harder, sucking his tongue into my mouth as my dress fell to the floor.
He dropped to his knees and with his hands firmly on my butt, he stuck his tongue inside me. I grew suddenly weak in my knees and moaned softly. He grinned at me as he effortlessly picked me up and set me down on his bed. I watched with anticipation as he slowly undressed himself.
He slid into bed next to me, and began to gently kiss me as he pushed two fingers up inside me and slid them in and out. This man was just a very few that I considered what we were doing as making love and not just having sex. With him, I was in heaven.
After he made his final thrust, we kissed and cuddled with his cock still pulsing inside me. Breathless, I said, “You were wonderful.” He just smiled at me and kissed me again.
And then something bizarre happened. A tinny voice crackled from his pants on the floor. It said, “Cameras and stairwell alarms disabled. You have five minutes to secure and extract VIP.”
Farnsy jumped out of bed and pulled a radio from his pants pocket after quickly pulling his pants on. He said, “Roger that.” Turning to me he said, “Let’s go girl. We have to go. Now!” He didn’t bother with his shirt or shoes.
Raising up on one elbow, I looked at Farnsy with confusion. I said, “Go? Go where? What’s going on?”
“This is a rescue, girl. Let’s go!” Farnsy almost shouted.
My mind started racing. A rescue? Oh my God. Someone’s getting me out? How? Oh my God, I can’t go. I’ll get in trouble with Mr. Cabot! I watched as Farnsy rushed to the door and checked the hallway. I just stood there as I struggled with wanting freedom and fear of punishment.
Farnsy frowned, rushed to me and grabbed my hand. He said, “Let’s go!”
I said, “I need to get…”
“Leave everything. I’ll carry you if I have to,” said Farnsy through clenched teeth. “We must go now.”
He pulled me stark naked, with some of the results of having sex running down my thigh, into the empty hallway. Holding my hand, he ran to the stairwell door, took a deep breath and shoved it open.
While running down the stairs, I said between breaths, “This is a rescue and you fucked me?”
Farnsy stopped on the landing six floors from his hotel room. As he slowly opened the stairwell door and checked to see if it was clear, he said, “I knew it was going to take time to disable the cameras and shit. Come on!”
He jerked me down the empty hallway to a door midway down. He slid his keycard into the door, pushed it opened and quickly pulled me inside the room.
Inside the room were two other people; a man and a woman with long blonde hair. They both jumped up when we entered.
The woman picked up a bag and tossed it at me. She barked, “Girl! Get to the bathroom and wash that whore make-up off as quickly as possible. Use the cosmetics in the bathroom. You need to look like a typical tourist. Put the clothes in the bag on. And here. Put this wig on. They’ll be looking for a blonde. They’ll see me and won’t look at you. Hurry!”
The man said, “Shit Sam! You fucked her? She’s daddy’s little princess we’re here to rescue.”
Farnsy, or I guess I should say Sam, just shrugged. He said, “We had time to kill and she’s a great fuck.”
I didn’t hear any further conversation as I rushed into the bathroom. I turned on the water and picked up a washcloth. Can I trust these people? What if this was another of Mr. Cabot’s tests? What if it’s just a trap and they’re taking me to Mr. Cabot so he can beat me? I shook my head as I started vigorously washing my face. Needing to believe in something, I said to myself, my Farnsy wouldn’t do that to me.
As I quickly applied the lighter make-up, my mind spun. How is this rescue possible? Dad doesn’t have the money to hire commandos to pull me from this. Before putting on the panties, I took the time to wash my leg and crotch the best I could. I then started to put on the clothes I was given. A bra, a tank top, shorts and sandals. And a brunet wig. I wondered how they got my size correct.
That’s when it dawned on me. The first two times with Sam he was doing recon. All the times he felt me, running his hands down my body was to estimate my size. I remember seeing Sam hang around in the lobby. He took a few other girls for sex before he finally got to me. I took his gentleness to mean he liked me. Was it all just an act? If he gets me out of here, does it really matter?
When I exited the bathroom, the woman who was dressed similar to me said, “Okay, girl. Looks good. Wear this hat and let’s go. Don’t run. Act casual. Pretend Sam is your boyfriend.”
I had always wondered why women liked these big, floppy hats. I used the bedroom mirror to put it on and adjust it. I smiled. It looked good on me.
The other man stood by the door. He checked the hallway and said, “If we’re all done getting pretty, let’s go. The plan is to try to be as inconspicuous as possible. Once we hit the lobby, we should look like any of the dozens of tourists milling around. We slowly, but directly to the outside where we hail a cab. Sam’s in charge of the VIP. Let’s do this.”
Sam smiled at me and took my hand. The unnamed man took the unnamed woman’s hand and we walked slowly and deliberately towards the elevator. When the elevator door opened and a couple walked out, my heart leapt into my throat. Sam just gently squeezed my hand and smiled at me.
When the door closed, Sam said, “You’re doing fine. Just stay cool. We’ll get you out.”
I hesitated before stepping out into the lobby. The last time I got off the elevator into the lobby, Mr. Cabot’s henchmen were waiting. Thankfully, this time it was clear of any visible bad guys. We blended in with the rest of the crowd.
As we passed through the expansive lobby towards the exit, my blood suddenly ran cold. No more than twenty feet away from me was Mr. Cabot talking to a group of men in suits. I squeezed Sam’s hand and looked away. A random thought popped into my head from a book I’d read a few years ago. The military commander said, “No battle plan ever survives contact with the enemy.” Does this count?
I swallowed hard and tried not to look over at Mr. Cabot. Thankfully, his focus was on the men he was talking to and we managed to pass him without incident.
After we passed Mr. Cabot, Sam whispered to me, “Breathe!” Only then did I realize I had been holding my breath.
Finally, we exited the building and walked towards the row of waiting taxis. Oh my God! I was outside! The little trips didn’t count as I was always under careful watch. The warm afternoon air washed over me. I wouldn’t allow myself to celebrate just yet. Anything could happen.
We walked up to a waiting taxi. Sam indicated with a wave of his hand that I should get in. The other man and woman had taken another taxi. I just stood there, frozen. A taxi ride is where my nightmare had started. I couldn’t move.
Sam said, “Honey. We need to get into the cab.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. It took all my will power to force myself into the waiting taxi. As Sam sat down and told the driver our destination, I held onto his arm and put my head down on his shoulder. None of this was real until the taxi drove away from the curb. I had no idea where I was going, but I was for sure away from Mr. Cabot.
We arrived about fifteen minutes later at a small group of buildings that looked like shops. The other couple was nowhere to be seen. Sam paid the driver and we got out of the taxi. Without a word, Sam took my hand and led me down a gravel road. We walked for several minutes before stopping at what seemed to be an abandoned house.
Letting go of my hand, Sam said, “Go inside and find a canvass bag. Change into the clothes in the bag and stay inside until I say to come out. Take off the wig and put your hair in a pony tail. Leave the clothes you’re wearing on the floor. You have less than ten minutes.”
Inside the bag was what appeared to be a camouflaged army uniform. He wants me to wear this, I thought? Also in the bag were a couple of bands to fix my pony tail. I quickly changed clothes. There was a name tag on the uniform that had the name “Smith” on it. The cap’s fit was just a bit snug.
A few minutes later, I heard the sound of some kind of vehicle arriving. A voice said, “Is the VIP ready? We need to go now.”
Sam said, “She’s ready.” A little louder he said, “Okay, girl. Come out.”
As I exited the abandoned house, I saw a military humvee with two men inside. Sam opened the rear door and stood by it.
I walked up to him and hugged him. I said, “Thank you Farnsy. I don’t know how to repay you.”
Sam smiled and said, “Don’t worry about that. Your Daddy’s already done that. Just make sure you make it back home to him safely.”
I hugged Sam again and looked up into his eyes. I said, “Will I see you again?”
Sam’s expression hardened and he said, “No. Goodbye, Princess.” He kissed me on the forehead and gestured for me to get into the humvee. I nodded and moved towards the door. Just before getting inside, I jumped to my tiptoes and kissed him. Sam smiled as he closed the humvee’s door. I never saw Sam again.
The man in the driver’s seat said, “Just sit tight and relax, Miss. And keep your mouth shut.”
We drove for what seemed about an hour or so along the coast of what I assumed was the Persian Gulf. As we approached an odd looking building with large curved coverings over what appeared to be a guard station, the driver again said, “Don’t say a word. Shouldn’t be a problem as we’re stationed here.” On the front of the building was something written in Arabic along with English that said, “Al Dhafra Air Base.”
At the guard station, the driver flashed an ID. The guard looked at the ID and inside the humvee. He handed back the ID, nodded and waved us through. The driver drove us through the air base up to the tarmac. There was a large plane with the engines running, sitting in front of a large hanger. A soldier walked up to us and said to the driver, “You have the VIP?” He looked inside the humvee an at me. The driver nodded. The soldier said, “The C-130’s departure has been on hold for the VIP.” He looked back at me and said, “Let’s go, Miss.”
I got out of the humvee and before I could say anything to the driver, he drove off. The soldier started to trot off towards the C-130 that had its loading ramp still down. As we approached, another soldier walked down the ramp.
The first soldier said, “Secure the VIP.” To me he touched the bill of his cap and said, “Have a safe trip, Miss.”
“Follow me, Miss,” said the other soldier as he led me up the ramp. He pointed at a row of red seats with a webbing for a back and said, “Have a seat, Miss and buckle up.” I did as I was told and took a moment to look around. I wasn’t alone. There were a dozen or so soldiers also sitting as well as a load of equipment of some kind.
The soldier returned with a blanket and said, “Here. You’ll probably want this in a few minutes. The temperature in Kaiserlautern, Germany today is around thirty degrees.”
I looked at the soldier, who was probably no older than me, and very cute. I said, “What month is this?”
He gave me an odd look and said, “Today is November sixteenth, Miss.”
I was going to ask what year, but thought better of it. It was getting close to Thanksgiving back home. The thought of home brought a sudden rush of tears. I closed my eyes as I felt the large plane revving up its engines for take-off.
As I felt the plane become airborne, I leaned back against the webbing, closed my eyes and cried harder than I have in a long time. This was real. I was going home.
The C-130 rolled to a stop and the ramp was lowered. The soldiers on board started standing and getting their gear. The soldier who had given me the blanket came up to me and said, “This is your stop, Miss. They’re sending a vehicle for you to take you to the main building.” I started to hand him back the blanket, but he just smiled and said, “You should hang on to that. It’s cold out there.”
I wrapped the blanket around me and started down the ramp. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a green humvee approach and stop outside the wingspan of the C-130. As I stepped off the ramp, I looked over at the humvee and saw three people standing outside next to it.
“Dad!” I shouted, as I dropped the blanket in my mad run to my parents. My cap blew off my head as I ran. “Mom! Oh my God!”
It was a short run, but I was out of breath as I ran straight into my dad and hugged him. I cried as I said, “It’s you. It’s really you!”
Dad almost crushed me in a bear hug. Tears rolled down his cheek as he said, “Oh my son! Thank God you’re safe.” He looked at me and said, “What have they done to you?”
I said, “I’m your daughter now, Dad.” I hugged him again.
He said, “We’ll have to adjust.”
I turned to Mom who was crying and hugged hard. “Oh Mom! I missed you so much!”
Mom held me tight, and then wiped away my tears with her thumb as she leaned back slightly to look at me. She said, “We’ve been so worried that we’d never see you again, honey.” She looked at me and smiled. She said, “You’re beautiful.”
I turned next to my little brother, Ross. He was eleven years old when I last saw him. He was taller than me now and must be around fourteen by now. I started to hug him and he backed away and said, “You’re not my brother!”
I looked at Dad and said, “You should have left him at home.”
We stayed in Germany for over a week to get me processed. Most of the paper work had been done, but my identity had to be established, a passport arranged, and all that bureaucratic nonsense.
I had my name legally changed to Scotti. No way in hell was I keeping the name Prissy. Dad had suggested getting reconstructive surgery to return being a boy. But all things considered, I decided to stay a girl.
After my contact with Dad over shortwave radio, he started a fundraising campaign to get the money to pay for a rescue. He hired a group made up of former special forces that specialize in these types of rescues. They handled all the arrangements. I didn’t ask him how much it cost.
We arrived without fanfare back to our home. It took awhile for me to not worry about Mr. Cabot crashing through our front door. I had nightmares for weeks.
Mom signed me up with a counselor to help me adjust to not being a prostitute and to get me get a prescription of estrogens to maintain my femaleness and to get me a new supply of dilators. Oh what fun.
I was pissed at David for a while since if he hadn’t left me and the girls that night in Aruba, none of this would have happened. I finally got over it and got on good terms with him again. Until he saw me in person and asked me on a date. Now I’m pissed at him again.
Christmas was certainly different now. I didn’t get a single console game, even though I had four on my list. In fact, I didn’t get any electronics this time around. Instead, I got some eye shadow, perfume, nail polish, earrings, panties…do I really need so many panties? And a couple of tops and a skirt just to name a few. My brother laughed every time I got something girly.
In fact, Mom’s gone hog wild with me becoming a daughter. I think she has the idea that when they changed my gender, they also inserted a shopping gene. And that I should suddenly like chick flicks. I don’t complain though. I’m just glad she’s happy about it. It does get in the way at times though. I wanted to watch the Super Bowl with Dad, and we had guests over. I spent most of the time helping Mom in the kitchen than watching the game.
My brother however, rarely talks to me. I’m told constantly that I’m not his brother.
I decided to retake my last year of college. I met this really cute and wonderful guy in the campus ham radio club. He knows about me and it doesn’t bother him. Like I said. He’s wonderful. He’s going with me on Spring Break…a camping trip with my Dad to the mountains of New Mexico.
“…and those are my promises to you, the good people of our great state. And now I’ll take some questions.”
I pushed my way to the front of the crowd and grabbed the microphone from the person about to ask a question. I looked the Congressman straight in his eyes and said, “Why did you give me back to my captors when I begged you for help in Dubai? Because of you, I spent three years there as a sex slave!”
Looking extremely nervous, the Congressman said, “Miss, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Can we get her out of here?”
“You don’t remember me?” I shouted. “You even told me I was your favorite whore. You had sex with me six times…five times while I was still a boy!”
“Security! Get this girl out of here!” shouted the Congressman.
Reporters started to crowd around me, shouting questions at me. I shouted into the microphone I still clutched, “I begged you for help and you not only left me to stay a sex slave, you specifically requested to fuck me!”
“Get her out of here!” shouted the Congressman.
The Congressman’s political career ended. He got a talk show on MSNBC.
The FBI, working with the United Arab Emirates, got the brothel that held me captive shut down. Most of the girls were returned home. Some continued to be prostitutes as that was all they knew. I never learned the fate of the girls that were taken with me. Mr. Cabot lost his head as he had embarrassed the UAE as well as caused a slight drop in tourism during the investigations. At least that’s what I was told.
“Will you hurry up in there?” shouted Ross through the bathroom door. He rapped on the door with his knuckles a few times. “I have to go.”
Through the door, I said, “I’m putting on my make-up. I’ll be out in a minute.”
Ross said, “You don’t need make-up.”
Through the door, I laughed and said, “I don’t?”
There was a pause and then Ross said, “No. Because my sister is already beautiful.”