Hitting Rock Bottom

This story has themes of non-consent, kidnapping, sex slavery and other related kinks. If such kinks offend you, please do not read. This story is an act of FICTION and is not meant as any political or cultural statement. It is meant for enjoyment and should never be done in real life.

Most people think they know what rock bottom is, but they don't. Sure, times get tough for them, things look hopeless, but they have no real clue what rock bottom is.

"Margarite, things will get better," I tell myself out loud, but then I laugh. Even saying it sounds stupid.

My boyfriend of the past 4 years cheated on me. That relationship which I spent so much time on is now in the garbage. The best thing I can do to get over it is try not to think how many times he cheated on me and with how many.

Just as that happened, I got fired. They assured me it wasn't because of my work but the company's poor revenue, but in the end it doesn't matter. I got fired and to make it better, they refused to pay me my last paycheck for the hours I already worked.

And to top it all off, my apartment is kicking me out. Not because I didn't pay, but because some inspector found it to be substandard and no one can live there any more per the law. I'll be able to go and get my things, but not sleep there.

I take deep breaths as I walk down the sidewalk. I used to think living in downtown was fun and hip. I mean, what 26-year-old woman wouldn't want to live in the city with all the other young professionals? Everything has here. Only now it feels like the most expensive place to live, in which I know I won't find a new place as I doubt I have enough for the deposit.

I have no other family, well maybe long lost cousins but no one that will help me. And all of my good friends live in different states and have no way of helping me right now. I have no one that is able to help me.

I was told about my apartment this morning. And after that lovely meeting, I went to a bar and had a couple of drinks. That's a lie. I had 15 drinks. But they were over the course of a several hours, so I'm not majorly drunk, just a little drunk.

Since leaving the bar, I've been walking the streets of downtown, trying to think of what to do. Of where to go. Where to sleep. Of how to pick up the pieces of what I used to call my life.

I keep walking, not really looking where I'm going nor caring. Normally I am good about avoiding certain areas of downtown for various reasons; homeless, muggers, etc, but at the moment I could very well be homeless so I better get used to all of the streets.

I just walk, looking forward but not really looking at anything. It's only when I see a bit of graffiti on the ground that I stop. It reads "No hope enters here."

Wait a second, I recognize that graffiti. Where from? I don't know, but I don't think it is anything good.

When I left the bar, I just turned right and just started walking. Following that path in my head, I try to work out where I am since I normally don't go that many blocks outside of my apartment. To help me, I look around at the buildings. It's mostly factory type buildings and warehouses, but most are for sale.

"Oh shit," I say out loud when I finally recognize the area. I knew this area existed, just like I knew that when I left the bar, yet I still walked into it? Fuck me!

Where do I recognize it from? The news. This is "Disappearance Alley." Over a dozen people go missing from here a year, both men and women, of any and all ages. The cops think it's so sort of mob and sex slave thing, but they never find the people nor do they find any clues so they don't know.

Why did I come here? I should have known that turning right at the bar would take me here in time. Why didn't I pay attention? Why didn't I think about where the hell I was going.

With my heart starting to pound, I notice that there's no one around at all. Not to mention everything is as quiet as can be. It's an unnatural quiet too.

I quickly turn around. I'm in the heart of this area so I need to cover a lot of area in a little time to get out of here. But right before I take off to run, in front of me, is a solid shadow.

No, not a solid shadow, but a man in a black suit. A very large man in what looks like an expensive suit. He stands in front of me as if he could block out the sun.

"Put your hands on your head," the man says in a very deep voice. His voice seems to echo around the buildings, or at least that's what it feels like because it echoes in my head.

"I...I'm sorry, what?" I ask, thinking that I misheard him. Most people say 'hello' or 'hey' when they meet a stranger. But to me it sounded like he said for me to put my hands on my head.

"Put your hands on your head, unlike you want to die," the man calmly tells me. I almost burst out laughing as surely he's joking. Only when I see his face, I know he's not joking. His face is ice cold with no emotion at all. Hell, I've seen rocks with more emotion than this human beings.

"O-Ok," I tell him, thinking that he's so huge he could reach out and snap my neck with ease. So, with a shuddering breath, I lift my hands up and put them on top of my head. As I didn't have to dress up for work, I am wearing an old tshirt and blue jeans, not anything that makes me look like I have money.

"I...I don't have any money," I tell the man. That's why he's doing this right? He's robbing me? Surely there's no other reason. Right? Right??

I'm not even sure he hears this as he doesn't react. Instead, he looks at me up and down as if searching for something. Or appraising.

"I am going to say this once. You are going to be sold as a sex-slave. If you don't do as I say, try to run or if annoy me, I will kill you and make sure your body will not be found," he tells me in that emotionless tone.

Never in my life has anyone said anything that scared me more than this. And once I was robbed at gunpoint. When I was robbed, the gun was in my face and the guy yelled 'purse bitch.' But that guy's voice was filled with emotion while this guy's is ice cold. The guy with the gun may not have ever shot anyone, but this guy in front of me has indeed killed people and probably didn't even think about them again.

What do you say to that? It's not a normal thing that would ever come into any conversation. Do I start to beg for him not to? Or try and debate him on why it's a bad idea?

"O-Ok," is what I end up replying with. I start to wonder if this is some sort of alcohol powered hallucination. Normally I just have a glass of wine, but today I had all sorts of spirits. Maybe the combination of all of them has some sort of weird effect on the brain?

"Repeat it back to me so I know you understand," the man says, and crosses his arms as if getting annoyed. When he does this, I notice something about his suit. We are lit by a dim streetlamp so it's not like I can see everything perfectly, but I do notice a bulge on his left side that isn't on the right. That has to be a gun, right? Isn't that where people put them when they are in holsters?

"I-I'm going to be sold as a s-s-sex s-s-slave," I start and something extremely strange happens. My womanhood tingles. It tingles in a manner that makes me start to feel aroused, even if this is the absolute worst time to do so. It's something about saying something that powerful. I mean, that phrase is basically giving up all your control.

"If I run or don't do what you say, you will, will, will....k-kill me," I finish, and once again I feel a powerful tingle down below that seems to shoot in all directions, making my entire body warm. I even feel my face flush in what is by far the most humiliating thing ever for me.

The man doesn't react. He just looks at me for a moment, right in the eyes. And his eyes barely look human. They are the sort of eyes you would like in a creepy painting, where they follow you no matter what. But then he reaches inside his suit coat and pulls out a phone or tablet. He does this fast as otherwise I might have screamed thinking it was a gun.

He looks down at the device and starts to tap away. What scares me just a bit more is that the device doesn't light up his face from the screen. It's dimmed or made to not be very bright, which means he really is a professional. This way no one can really see his face even on camera.

"Remove all your clothes and give me your cell phone," he then orders while tapping on his screen. Again, this is something that is not said in normal conversation. Well my asshole boyfriend said it once, I think, when we were being silly and playing sexual betting games.

Once again, that tingle from below hits me, like a submarine pinging for objects in the ocean. It goes all over my body, bringing that sexual warmth in which you want to change into something that makes your body looks good and sexy.

"O-Ok," I say, not sure what more to say to this, or even do. I take a glance around as we are out in public. This is a freaking street corner! But there's no one around. Why would there be? Just building for sell and trouble here. I was stupid for coming here.

"I have-," I begin to say but he cuts me off, "Spare me any comments about family, pets or whatever waiting for you. I don't want to hear anything from you but the sounds of clothes being removed," he states, not even looking at me.

Damn. He really has done this before, and a lot. I was going to make up a story about a husband and kids, but that went as well as a fart in church. That was my best idea for getting out of this. Hell, it was my only idea.

With no other way to stop this, I reach into my pocket and hand him my cell phone. He casually takes it and puts it in his coat pocket.

I bend down and untie my shoes. Being a bit scared, I try to go fast, but my hands tremble, so it takes longer. But I untie the one shoe then the other. Next I slip out of each one. Then I step on one sock and peel out of it, then use my other foot to do the same so I am barefoot.

With my bare feet on the concrete, I unbutton my jeans. The feeling of the rough concrete like this feels so weird. Like being back in your old elementary school when you are an adult. The memory of what it should be isn't right and throws you off.

I pull down my jeans, my face very red. When I do, my black panties come out for his view, as do my pale white legs. Still trembling I pull them to my ankles then step out of them, leaving me with just my panties for my bottom half.

Now I grab the bottom of my tshirt and lift it upward. As I am not trying to be sexy or seductive I just peel it off, not caring too much how it looks. And well, my black bra comes out all the same, leaving me in just my underwear.

"Tit size?" the man asks, but he isn't looking at me, but at his tablet. This throws me off a bit as I was about to pull down my panties.

"38 DD," I answer, and then pull my panties down. Oh, there is no feeling like what I feel right now. The feeling of your bare sex coming out in a very public place and for an evil, evil man. Worse, he doesn't even look at me when I do it. It's such an intense and humiliating feeling that I swear if I dwell on it I might bring myself to orgasm.

Next I reach behind me to unclasp my bra. As I do, I notice the man tapping away at his device. The clasps come undone, allowing my breasts to be free. Looking to the side due to my embarrassment, I slide my bra all the way off to expose my breasts to him and the world.

"Max number of people you fucked at the same time?" He asks now and it occurs to me what he's doing; a questionnaire. He's filling out a fucking questionnaire about me.

"J-Just one," I answer, using my hands to cover myself. To this, he taps away at the device, filling out whatever sex-trafficking form he's using.

"I...I guess you want me to throw away my clothes?" I ask after a very long pregnant pause. He's tapped away for maybe a full minute without saying anything. It's sort of eerie to be like this, and it scares me. And since there is a trash can literally a couple of feet away on the corner, I would assume this is where my clothes are going to go.

"No. They'll find them in the trash, stuff them down the street's drain. They'll float out to the river and won't be found," he answers while not looking at me. Again, this just floors me and nearly makes me burst out in tears. The seriousness of this situation is overwhelming. It's like being high on some great drug and then stone cold sober the next second.

"O-Ok," I say, flabbergasted. Naked, scared and out on the street corner, I pick up my clothes into a ball. I clung them to me in an effort to hide my naked body if not for a few minutes. Now I step into the street and walk a few steps until I reach the drain that's at the curb.

Frowning I drop my clothes on it. Immediately half go down it while the other half stays on the grate. Using my foot, I move the remaining pieces down, where they all go in the drain. As I see the last piece fall, which was my panties, I am hit with that tingle again.

I have no clothes. I couldn't wear anything even if I wanted to. There's nothing around for me to cover myself. I would have to hide behind something and even then it wouldn't help. I'm truly naked for the first time ever.

"Get over here, hands on head," the man orders as I guess I was taking too much time looking at my lost clothes in the drain. Doing as he wants, I walk back to him and stand in front of him. Once again I lift my hands and put them on my head.

Never have I felt so vulnerable and naked. It makes me think of the first time I had to undress for gym with all the other girls around. It's crazy open and you can't hide. He can see everything from my breasts, in which my right boob is a bit larger than the left, to my belly ring, to the fact that I shaved myself last night. He sees everything.

"You had sex with boys and girls?" He asks now, still tapping away. Damn it that tingle won't quit. I'm scared for my very life and it keeps trying to make me touch myself the way it tingles and tingles.

"Y-Yes. Mainly men. But in college I had a friend-," I start to explain the depths of my bisexual activities but he cuts me off by saying, "I don't care."

"How many partners have you had sex with?" He asks next. To this I have to think a little bit. If I wasn't so scared I know I could answer it easy, but at the moment I really have trouble thinking.

"4? Yeah, I think 4," I say nervously. Again he taps this answer into his tablet. He then lowers it and looks at me for the first time once I got naked.

"Walk into that alley. Walk, nice and slow and nothing bad happens," he orders, pointing at a darkened alley from a horror movie. I nod at this and begin to walk. Both legs feel like jello as I walk and I'm so scared I may walk too fast or too slow. But I walk, feeling my bare tits jiggling with each step which I've never really felt before. Sure they've jiggles millions of times, but this is really the first time I've felt them and how much they jiggle.

I walk down the sidewalk and then turn towards the alley. Damn it's dark down here. I half-expect a pack of wild gang-members or mafia types to grab me and tear me to pieces. But as my eyes adjust, I light shining through a closed door. It sticks out as it's the only light in the alley.

Not having to be told, I walk towards that door with the man following just a step behind me. When we reach it, he steps in front and opens it. Then he steps back and motions for me to go in.

I step into the building, which looks like an old warehouse. And I do mean old. There's tons of dust and broken equipment everywhere. Even the light that is broken as it's just the bulb hanging on a cord with a partial piece of the encasing it was in.

Very confused, I stop. My fear starts to get worse as I think he was lying. That I'm not really going to be a sex slave but a murder victim. That he's going to off me here and leave me, knowing no one will ever find me.

"This way," the man tells me and I see he's against the right wall. My eyes widen as I see he's slide part of the wall back to reveal another room. Oh hell, it's a secret room. I mean, I didn't notice anything off about that wall at all when I came in. It looked just like a wall. Or better yet, the end of the building.

With my hands on top of my head, I walk into the secret room and am amazed. There is a bank of monitors showing almost every angle of outside. Looking at them, they must have seen me a mile away, literally. And these are nice monitors too.

All around the room are clean, expensive looking...things. There's a computer station, a weight bench looking thing, a tool bench, a green screen with cameras, and even a refrigerator and stove. This room probably cost double what I make in 5 years.

"Stand in front of the cameras," the man states and closes the door to lock us inside. His emotionless voice knocks me out of my daze of looking at everything in the room.

I do as he commands and start walking towards the set with the cameras, my hands still on top of my head. As I get closer to this area, which is against the wall in the middle of the room, I notice just how expensive those cameras are. There's three of them and they look really professional. Like I bet they cost over $100,000.

Nervous, I set onto the tile floor of the stage, which has the tiles being a different color then everywhere else. There's actually a faded X on the floor, which I take to mean I'm supposed ot stand on it.

Standing there, I face the cameras when the lights all turn on, lighting every inch of me. Then I see red lights turn on from each of the cameras, meaning they must be recording me. I don't know why, but this affects me a great deal. It makes that tingle get stronger and stronger, as if it's feeding on my humiliation.

In the corner, I actually see a monitor high up. There I see myself on screen. There's a digital background behind me of what looks like a brick wall inside a prison. And the girl on screen doesn't look like me at all. It's crazy the difference between us, even if it is me.

"This is introduction video. People will view it and see if they want to purchase you. Information will be displayed at the bottom for them to see," the man informs me, making me look away from the monitor. I sway at this knowledge as the realization that I'm really about to be sold hits me.

"Your new name is Slave #789. I want you to look at the camera and say your name and say you are a sex-slave to be purchased. Then you answer any questions I have," he continues, and I can't even see him thanks to the lights.

"O-Ok," I say but now my voice quivers in fear. It doesn't even sound like my voice now. And I have to fight back tears as I've gone past the point of being scared.

"I'm waiting," he says coldly, meaning for me to start. At this I gulp and try to gather all my nerve. My body trembles due to my fear and the worst part is how I feel my tits jiggling from it.

"I'm Slave #789, and I am a s-s-sex-slave to be purchased," I say out loud looking at the camera closest to me. Dear me. Saying that nearly makes me cum. My heart pounds like crazy and my poor clit yearns to be touched, just a little bit.

In the corner of my eye I see the monitor. At the bottom is flashes "Only 3 pervious sexual partners," as if it is a selling point. Like I'm a car with few miles on it.

"You understand you will be punished for any misbehaving, or that you will be punished because your master wants to punish you?" He asks now. I pause before saying anything as that's a damned-if-you-do question.

"Y-Yes sir," I reply. Now the screen says, "Bisexual." My eyes widen at this as what if I am made to do things with women? Like I said, the only times I did such things was way back in college. I've done nothing since then.