Human Traffic

Anya was seized by the arm and pulled out. Almost before she knew what was happening she had been bundled into the second car, the doors were slammed and it started off. The man next to her spoke, but again she had no idea what was said. The language sounded much the same as that used by the first men.

How long they drove and where they went Anya had not the least idea, but they eventually arrived in a large city and pulled up outside a large old house in a wide tree-lined street. There was a woman waiting to greet them. She looked to be in her thirties and was running to fat, but was facially most attractive. She smiled at the girl.

"Welcome to my house."

Anya almost gasped. She could understand. "You are from Lithuania!" she exclaimed.

"That's right."

"Please help me. These men have kidnapped me."

"Oh no, dear. They've bought you, fair and square."

"Bought me?"

"What happened to you before has nothing to do with them. They're Albanians, by the way. I know what you've been through, but the first day is always the worst."

"I was forced to...to..." Anya found herself unable to say it. "With so many men."

"I know, dear," the woman said sympathetically. "It's all for the best. Breaking you in, you see. Gives you no time to think about it. But all that is behind you now. I run a good, clean establishment and my girls are well treated. My name is Elena. You'll find our clients are all of the better kind. No roughs here. Behave yourself, work well and you'll have no trouble."

"Work?"

"That's what you came to England for, isn't it? To work."

"Yes, but...."

"Not quite what you were thinking. Is that it? Well, my dear, it's all a case of market forces, you see. There's a market for pretty young things like you. You're very much in demand and you've got to go where the work is, haven't you?"

"Please, I don't want to."

Elena's face suddenly hardened and her voice whip-lashed across the girl. "That's too bad. We've paid good money for you and you're going to prove that you're worth it. Now, up the stairs with you."

Anya miserably did as she was told. Her brief hope of salvation cruelly snatched away from her. She was shown into a bedroom.

"This is yours. Keep it clean and tidy. The clients don't like to be brought into a tip." Elena's voice softened. "I'm like you, dear. Well, maybe not quite like you. I got into this game when I was still in Lithuania. The Russians had gone. It was like a great cloud over the country had been lifted. Money was spilling from everywhere. Of course, you're too young to remember. Not much more than a baby. I was your age when the change came. It was easy to get paid to drop my drawers. I got a pimp..."

"Pimp?"

"He looked after my business affairs. He was real good to me, so I married him. Everything was going well until the silly bleeder killed someone."

Anya was horrified. "Your husband killed someone?"

"Pulled a knife out in an argument. Anyway, we had to get out. We had money put by. Getting into England was a piece of cake. We bought this house and set up a nice little business. And now you're going to be part of it. For a while."

"Please - no."

"You'll soon get used to it."

Anya was certain that she would never "get used to it", but arguing was out of the question. She would have to bide her time and see what could be done.

"Here you are, dear." Elena held out some filmy material.

"What's this?"

"A dress. Put that on and come down in an hour. Nothing else. Just the dress."

Elena crossed the room to a TV set and switched it on. The screen flickered into life, but there was no picture.

"Experience is a good teacher, but a learning aid can be useful. Watch this video and you'll get a good idea about how to prepare a man. So far you've only been penetrated by men who have masturbated themselves. From now on that will be your job." She handed over a remote control. "Push that button when you're ready to watch."

The older woman left the room, closing the door, but not locking it. Anya briefly thought of trying to escape, but realised the impossibility of getting all the way through the house without being seen. She would probably only get one chance and so had to choose wisely.

The room, now she had time to examine it, was really quite pleasant. Tastefully decorated, bright curtains and a matching bed-cover. As well as an overhead light there were two table lamps with fringed shades. In fact, Anya ruefully admitted, it was a better room than the one she had at home. Even so, the thought of what she would have to do in it made her slump onto the bed and cry.

After a session of feeling sorry for herself Anya switched on the video and sat down to watch. Language proved to be no barrier as there was no dialogue, only moans, gasps, grunts and groans. It proved to be very instructive for nothing was left to the imagination. Anya could graphically see everything that she would be expected to do and, most importantly, how to do it.

After watching for a while in horrified disbelief she turned off the video and changed out of her clothes and into the dress. There was hardly anything to it. Low cut and short, it revealed most of her breasts and hardly covered her bottom. Not that it really made much difference. The material was so thin her nipples and pubic hair could be seen through it.

"I look like a whore," Anya muttered as she examined herself in a mirror. Then she realised that was exactly what she was.

*****

When Anya went downstairs she found there were five girls already in the lounge, sitting about in chairs and on a settee. They were all about Anya's age and were dressed much as she was, though in varying colours. There was an oppressive silence in the room, not even broken by a greeting to the new arrival. The other girls gave her barely a glance.

After a moment's hesitation Anya found a vacant chair and sat on it. She could almost imagine she was in a doctor's waiting room. Through the window she could see people passing by in the street. They were free to come and go as they pleased, whilst she....

The silence was suddenly shattered by the chime of a doorbell. Anya jumped slightly at the unexpected sound, but the other girls hardly registered anything - except, perhaps, they became even more sullen than before.

Elena came into the room with a man. He was tall and thin with little hair and a grey complexion. He looked round the room then spotted Anya.

"This the new one?"

He spoke in English. Although Anya was unable to understand the words his gesture and eyes staring directly at her left her in little doubt that she was the subject.

"Anya," Elena replied. "Only nineteen. Fresh from Lithuania. Inexperienced, of course."

The man's eyes lit up. "A virgin?"

"No. Sorry. A little necessary...training. You understand."

"Yes. Well, if she's not a virgin I may as well have the same one as last week. She knows what she's doing. A new one...well...probably going to fumble around. I'm paying good money. I want to be sure it's worthwhile."

Elena smiled. "Of course." She crooked her finger at one of the girls. "Katya. If you please."

The girl slowly rose from the chair and led the man out of the room. Anya briefly saw them going up the stairs before the door was closed.

There were three more men before one decided that the newcomer would suit him fine. He liked fresh talent. Elena nodded to Anya, who slowly rose, her legs feeling like lead.

The man was middle-aged, balding and over-weight, his stomach a gross protrusion. He talked constantly as he stripped off his clothes, but Anya could understand nothing much except that one word - cock - which seemed to be such a major part of the English language. She knew the meaning of it and what she was expected to do with it.

Removing her dress took only a couple of seconds and she stood naked before him feeling shy and exposed, despite all that had happened to her. He pressed her down onto her knees and pushed her head towards his rapidly stiffening weapon. Lightly running her fingers along its length hardened it even more quickly. The pressure on her head increased and her lips were pushed against his cock. She took it into her mouth.

He kept talking. Meaningless, gibberish words poured out of him, punctuated by groans and sighs.

"Oh, yes."

Anya understood that. She also understood that she was doing what he wanted and giving him pleasure. As for herself, she felt nothing but a bleak and dark despair. This was to be the sum total of her life.

She was taken by surprise when the man quickly pulled himself away, hauled her up and flung her onto the bed. He pushed her legs apart with his knees, lay on top of her and without any ceremony, thrust his rampant cock into her. It took no time at all. Already brought to a state of readiness with her mouth he flooded his semen into her vagina almost as soon as he had entered.

He sagged down on top of her when he had finished, panting rapidly as if he had run a five mile race. It was obvious he was badly out of condition. His heavy breathing continued for some time whilst Anya was crushed beneath his body. His cock was still inside her, but she could feel the life going out of it until it shrivelled into nothing.

She stared up at the ceiling and watched a fly crawling along. It was free. Free to fly off whenever and wherever it wanted. She was pinned to the bed, skewered by a man who was completely unknown to her and trapped in a hateful life not of her choosing. She longed to be the fly.

Suddenly she saw it had become caught in a spider's web. Desperately it struggled against the fine threads that had wrapped themselves around it. But to no avail. The more it squirmed, the more enmeshed it became.

"There's no escape," thought Anya. "For either of us."

A tear rolled down her cheek. She was crying for herself - and for the fly.

*****

Keeping a brothel and controlling another adult's prostitution for gain were both illegal and thus it might be supposed that the police would soon be calling upon a house such as the one run by Elena. It was not the case. Practically all the houses in the street were broken into flats or used for bed and breakfast and were owned by immigrants. Nobody was much concerned by the activities next door. The few remaining non-immigrant residents preferred to keep a low profile and operated a policy of see-no-evil, hear-no-evil. The police, therefore, had no knowledge of the plight of Anya and the other girls.

Over the next few weeks - Anya had no idea how many as one day blurred into another - she serviced several men during each long session. She received no money; all the profits being taken by Elena and her partners, but was given three good meals a day and lived with some degree of comfort. However, she was confined in the house all the time and boredom was an ever present enemy.

The system was simple. Each customer was given a list of prices, though regulars knew them by heart, and according to how much they were prepared to pay they would be given a length of time with the girl of their choice. Once inside her room she had to do whatever the punter wanted. There were virtually no limits. If required she would have to suck cock, take it up her pussy or her arse. Mild smacking was allowed, but not whipping, bondage or sado-masochism. Minders were always patrolling the house ready to interrupt if the girl seemed to be in too much distress.

It took a surprisingly short time for Anya to become accustomed to her life, though she still didn't like it and thought longingly of escaping. Her customers ranged from elderly men, some of them barely able to get a hard-on, and young men experiencing sex for the first time. On one occasion she had a man who was going to be married the next day. She thought it strange that he would buy a prostitute the night before his wedding.

On the whole she closed her eyes and tried not to think about what she was doing, letting the men use her in whatever they wanted. She felt nothing but an emptiness as they pawed her body and rammed their cocks into her. Sometimes she could feel a little spark and her juices flowed, usually with a man who took his time and treated her gently.

Whenever she had the chance Anya assimilated new words in English, slowly widening her vocabulary. It was a slow, fumbling process, but one man in particular was a great help. He was a frequent client who seemed to genuinely like her and was willing to spend half his time teaching her a new language. They were even able to laugh together over some of her more outlandish efforts at pronunciation.

One morning Anya was still in bed when she was disturbed by a noise. She looked up and saw Elena standing in the doorway.

"Get up and get dressed."

Anya tried to rub the sleep out of her eyes. "There's a customer already?"

Elena shook her head. "No. I mean get dressed. Outdoor clothes."

Anya sat up, feeling excited. "I'm going out?"

"You're leaving us."

"Leaving?"

"It's time for some fresh blood. You'll have noticed a few girls changing over the weeks. Now it's your turn."

"But, where am I going?"

"Another town, another house and different bosses. Quickly now. You've only got a short time to get some breakfast."

The door closed. Suddenly Anya felt frightened. She hadn't realised how much she had come to rely upon the comfort and security of her environment. There was a routine to life; familiar people and rooms; even the clients had become known to her, many of them being repeat visitors. And now it was all to be snatched away from her. She was once more going to be plunged into the fearsome unknown.

Slowly getting out of bed she began to get dressed, fighting to keep her apprehension under control and the nausea at bay. What was to happen to her now?

*****

There were two men in the car. They ignored their passenger and talked to each other in their own tongue. After driving for an hour they pulled into a motorway stop. It was the same routine as before. Another car was already waiting. There was only one man in it. He gave Anya a quick inspection, which embarrassingly included lifting her top and showing her breasts, and then she was transferred from one vehicle to the other. An envelope was handed over, the contents quickly checked and doors slammed.

The car with Anya took a back road out of the service station and was soon in the middle of a town. After negotiating through heavy traffic they pulled up outside a block of flats which had obviously been built many years before and was showing all the signs of age and neglect.

"We are home."

He spoke in a heavily accented English, but Anya could understand clearly enough. Home? Maybe for the man, but not for her.

He took her arm, holding on firmly. If she had even the vaguest thought of running off there was no chance. A lift took them up five floors to a gloomy corridor with doors on both sides. As they walked along Anya heard a child crying behind one door and the raised voices of quarrelling adults behind another. The man stopped in front of No. 53, took a key from his pocket and let them both in.

The flat was small; sitting-room, one bedroom, kitchen and bathroom. They were all untidy and Anya soon discovered, not too clean.

"Make coffee," the man grunted, taking her into the kitchen. He showed her where to find the ingredients. "Plenty sugar." The man grinned. Two teeth were missing. "I am very sweet."

Somehow Anya doubted that, but she nodded and set about making the coffee. She was in need of some herself. Surprisingly there was cake, too. Good cake.

They were drinking their coffee, Anya on a settee, the man in an armchair.

"I am Sergei," he suddenly announced.

"Anya."

"From Lithuania."

"Yes."

"I am Russian."

She had already guessed. He was stocky and heavily-built, but not fat and there was designer stubble on his chin. He looked to be in his early thirties. He offered the plate with cake on it.

"Another piece?"

Anya shook her head. "No, thank you."

It was bizarre. She could almost imagine she had been invited to a tea - or rather - coffee party.

"You are pretty girl. I saw your photograph and liked what I saw. I paid a lot of money to get you out of the brothel."

Anya looked surprised. Was it possible he had bought her freedom? But why? She soon discovered.

"You will be my woman and also work off your debt. I have an arrangement with a sauna."

"A sauna?" Anya struggled with the unfamiliar word.

"A steam bath. But it is not only a sauna. You will be entertaining above."

He gripped his trousered penis and jerked his hips in a crude gesture of the sexual act. It was plain what the euphemism 'entertaining' meant. Without any warning he suddenly slapped her hard across the face. She staggered back with a cry.

"This is to remember," Sergei pointed a warning finger. "You will do as you are told. No running away. No causing trouble. Or there is worse for you. You work hard, make men happy and I will be happy. You understand?"

Anya, clutching her burning cheek, could only nod.

"Now, get into bedroom. Show me what you can do."

He was not a caring, gentle lover. She hardly had time to undress before he fell on her, forcing her back onto the bed. His knees pushed her legs apart as his tongue and lips worked their way around her areola and nipples, licking and pulling them. His fingers were roughly prising open her labia and penetrating the vagina. His onslaught managed to produce a little wetness. He grunted in satisfaction as he became aware of her reaction.

Anya's eyes were tightly closed as she tried to blot out the assault on her already ill-used body. She desperately wanted not to respond, but natural impulses were coming to the fore. Perhaps it was a safety mechanism. If she was dry he would hurt her as his hard cock drove in; wetness would make the passage that much easier. She should be grateful for small mercies.

He entered.

She tightly gripped the covers on the bed as he thrust back and forth, grunting with every forward push. He lasted several minutes and Anya was beginning to think he would never finish, but at last he cried out and gave one last thrust. His sperm flooded into her. She had been given pills to take. Condoms were not popular with customers and a man like Sergei would never dream of using one when being serviced by his bought and paid for whore.

"Take one every day," Elena had told her. "No babies. But do not forget."

He pulled out of her almost immediately and left her lying naked on the bed, a trickle of sperm leaking from her vagina. She stayed still as she heard the television switched on in the next room.

That night he took her to the sauna.

*****

There was little difference between the sauna and the brothel except that Anya was taken there every day. If, perhaps, she had an idea of making a run for it after they had left the flat it was only a fleeting thought. Sergei always held her hand, just like any loving couple might, though his grip was tighter than might be expected. And if she ran, where would she go with no money, no identity and no idea where she was? It was another anonymous city, no different from any other.

As in the brothel there was a lounge for the women between customers and six bedrooms. The lounge hardly justified its name as there was nothing in it except a well-worn, battered settee, four uncomfortable hard-backed chairs and tea/coffee making facilities. The bedrooms were just that; a room with a bed.

On her first day Anya was greeted by a couple of older women with a cheerful, friendly manner.

"Where are you from, love?" enquired one.

"My name is Anya. From Lithuania."

"Oh yeh? Where's that then?"

Anya shrugged. Answering such a question was beyond her.