tagBDSMThe Selling of Amy

The Selling of Amy

byKatherine English 2©

Slowly I turned my head…my eyes fouled and blurry with tears, and watched as a bug skittered past my cheek across the dirty linoleum of the bathroom floor. My body, used and naked, cried out for the touch of a human hand…any hand…even the vile and humiliating hand that had left me in this ravaged condition.

How long had I been here? How long since the carefree coed life I’d come to know and love had been so brutally stripped from me? I had no idea. All I knew, was that my ordeal wasn’t over…not yet.


* * * * *

Chapter I

Previously:
11:30 P.M.
Somewhere over the Pacific

Dimly my eyes scanned the darkness for a glimpse of the lights of Kimpo International, my one connection point on the long trip from Anchorage to Hong Kong. For a while I’d wondered if I was ever going to get here with all of the weather and mechanical delays holding us at bay during the Christmas rush in Anchorage. But here I was, and finally after a long 10-hour flight…four hours behind schedule…the pilot was at last announcing our approach into Seoul, Korea.

Once more a slow sinking feeling invaded my mind as I thought about the connecting flight, the one that would have taken me into Hong Kong, but which had long since departed for my far away destination. My fingers tensed on the armrest. “Asian Air” had promised to make good on its word to get me there safely …and tonight. But was that possible, I wondered? It was so very late!

Somehow, deep down I knew that it wasn’t the hour, or even the lost connection that had me squirming in my seat. It was the fact that I was alone. For the first time I’d asserted myself and assured my parents that finally, as a freshman in college, I was old enough to travel on my own. I was no longer a child to be guided and coddled…but a competent and mature woman of 18. I needed my freedom…my “space”, I’d said.

And now I had it.

A voice broke the stillness…kind and consoling…the flight attendant.

“Miss Carlisle?”

I turned, smiling. “Miss Carlisle” she’d called me…not “Amy, or “A.C.” as my friends at school did. I was “Miss Carlisle” now…grown…adult.

“Yes”, I replied, clearing the dry rasp from my throat. “I’m Amy Carlisle. Any word on my connection?”

“That’s what I came to see you about, Miss Carlisle. I’m afraid that a connection isn’t possible tonight. Hong Kong International is closing at midnight…there won’t be enough time for a connecting flight to get there until morning. I’m really sorry,” she said, trying her best to soothe the panic-striken look from my eyes.

Her patented "flight attendant smile" in place, she lay her hand over my own… retrieving my attention once again from the muted fear which filled my mind.

“But don’t worry, Miss Carlisle. “Asian Air” has taken care of everything. We’ve made arrangements for you to stay at the Royal Regency, one of Seoul’s finest hotels, until morning, all expenses paid. As soon as we arrive, a representative of the airline will meet you with your vouchers for meals and lodging, and a limo driver will take you and your luggage to the hotel. You’ll be sipping champagne from room service in no time!”

She smiled and stood beside my seat, her hand resting on my shoulder as if to ascertain my state of mind. Did I look as frightened as I felt, I wondered? My hand grasped the loose flap of my seat belt…twisting it nervously…wishing I were anywhere but here…anything but alone.

But I was a woman now, wasn’t I? Mature. Assured. Confident. This was merely a brief setback…a momentary break in the flow of my journey. I was going to take full advantage of my “vouchers” and enjoy my evening…courtesy of “Asian Air”… or die trying!

“That’ll be fine,” I replied finally, my voice attempting to spin an illusion my eyes were unable to confirm. “It can’t be helped…not a problem.”

“We’ll be landing in 10 minutes then, Miss. Is there anything I can get you before we touch down…anyone you’d like the airline to contact for you?”

Visions of my parents flashed through my mind, sitting around the Christmas tree, waiting for my call…they’d be frantic by now. I should have called hours ago, but here I was, still airborne. I turned to relay the number to the flight attendant, then thought better of it. I’d wait…and put it on my hotel bill. It would be a long call…expensive. “Asian Air” was going to pay dearly for disrupting Amy Carlisle’s vacation!

Closing my eyes, I leaned back in my seat, smoothing the time-pressed wrinkles from my pale linen shift. It had looked so good back in the dorm…so adult, a contrast to the bright red strands of my long and riotous profusion of curls. A little eye shadow to highlight the blue/green of my eyes, a pale yet tasteful shade of lipstick, and one would never know that only moments before I’d been prancing around the dorm in my panties, borrowing a flight bag from a dorm-mate. Such are the illusions of life, I mused. Child to woman…where does the true transition take place?

The lights beyond the small porthole grew brighter as we made our final approach into Seoul, until finally the silvery wing of the plane shone with a lightness that belied the lateness of the hour. One by one the passengers disembarked, leaving only myself and a few other tardy souls to wrest our carry-ons from the overhead compartment and make our way toward the exit.

By the time I reached the terminal itself, all but one tired traveler had already departed in the direction of the baggage claim area. I was alone again, or so I thought. Then, from behind a door labeled “employees only” appeared a man dressed in “Asian Air” colors, sporting a small sign with the word “Carlisle” lettered carefully on its surface.

Quickly, as though he too wanted to be done and on his way to hearth and home, the employee approached and handed me a small envelope containing my vouchers.

“If you’ll just follow this concourse to the baggage area, Miss Carlisle, you’ll be able to claim your belongings and be on your way to the hotel. I’m sure you must be tired. “Asian Air’ would like to apologize for any inconvenience this delay may have caused,” he finished in perfect corporate-speak. And then with a quick glance that spoke of interest beyond the call of duty, he gave a final wave in the direction of the baggage claim, turned, vanished once again into the depths of “employees only” and was gone…leaving me to once more fend for myself.

Tired and confused, I made my way toward my destination, the small envelope clutched in my hand as though it meant my very salvation. I arrived at the luggage carrousel to find my bags following the solitary circuit alone…traveling in endless circles…crying out for my attention. And where was the limo driver I’d been promised? Probably home in bed, where I should have been!

Quickly I searched for an empty luggage carrier, and found none available. So, sliding my purse-strap high on my shoulder, I tucked my carry-on under my arm, and began to drag my two large and weighty suitcases from the carousel. Why had I brought so much, I chastised myself for the fourth time today. My parents had always taken care of the necessities of travel before. I suppose I’d been afraid of “being without” at the last minute.

Well…too late to repent, I decided as I tugged the impossibly heavy cases across the carpeted concourse in the direction of the nearest exit.

Then I stopped.

Before me stood a man, small in stature, wrinkled beyond belief…his hand outstretched as though to give assistance. A grin broke the nondescript features of his wizened walnut skin as he closed his hand around the handle of first one and then the other of my suitcases.

“I help you, Missy? I’m taxi-man,” he said as though he was about to change clothing in a phone booth and return as a superhero. “I take you anywhere. Ok? You follow?”

I was relieved…my deliverance was at hand! Gratefully, I allowed the little man to deal with the luggage and followed him to the exit where his dusty, battered conveyance sat waiting.

“You sit, Missy. I take care,” he directed, nodding his head in the direction of the back seat.

Back to sitting, I groaned inwardly as I plunked my tired “tushy” once again in the oh-so-familiar posture and waited for my erstwhile Gallihad to finish loading the luggage. Then, in no time we were off. The streets of the city, still bustling even at this hour, sped quickly by then thinned as we turned onto a secondary street and made out way through a warehouse district crisscrossed with cobblestones and railroad tracks.

“How far is it to the hotel?” I asked, the fatigue evident in my voice.

(silence)

“I said…how much further do we have to go? I thought it was nearby.”

(still no answer)

I began to become nervous… panic once more filling the pit of my stomach.

(a click)

The plungers on the door locks slid into place… immovably…locking me securely in the back seat. Frantically I began to pound on the heavy sheet of plexiglass that separated me from my driver.

“Driver! What’s happening. Why is my door locked!” I called, my voice rising in volume with each syllable.

“Not to worry,” he replied finally, his voice now more a dry, sing-song monotone. “I keep you safe, Missy…must lock. It just stuck. I fix.”

Reluctant but helpless, I sat uneasily in the back seat. And so we traveled in silence for another five minutes, each turn taking us farther and farther from the beaten path until he finally stopped the cab in front of the garage entrance to a remote warehouse somewhere along the waterfront.

“Driver! I know damned well this isn’t the Royal Regency! I want you to start this cab and take me there immediately!” I asserted, drawing from my dwindling reserve of false bravado.

Once more I was greeted by silence, until finally he leaned forward and delivered two quick honks of his horn into the stillness of our surroundings. Immediately, the garage door began to rise, and the taxi made its way slowly into the dimly lit interior of an empty and dilapidated storage area.

Fear…suppressed until now, rose full-blown in all its glory. This was wrong…so wrong. The child I’d hidden so carefully in the garb of a woman came trembling to the surface.

“Why am I here?” I whispered, my voice a frightened hush in the muted silence of the back seat. “Please…I need to get to the hotel! I’m expected,” I lied, hoping that my fabrication would make a difference.

Quietly, the little man opened his door and stood in the entryway…waiting as a second man… pale with chestnut hair and an expensive business suit approached our location.

Bending over, he stared through the window as though selecting a loin of pork. “What have you got for me?” he questioned without preamble. “She looks young…a little thin. How much?”

“Three hundred dollar,” came the tentative reply, a starting point in an apparently well-worn process.

“Fifty,” came the counter offer. “She may look good, but she won’t last. Not big enough.”

“Two hundred,” the little man replied with conviction. “You see her body,” he countered, gesturing crudely at his own nipples. “Big enough! This one a bargain at two hundred!”

“Not a chance,” came the reply. “I’ll go as high as one hundred, but that’s it. She’s got to be broken…she’s untrained…she’s not worth more than that.”

The driver set his jaw, then spat in disgust upon the oily cement floor. “You take…one hundred. But if she has cash…it belong me!”

“Deal,” replied The Suit. Then, opening the door with a key, he gestured for me to disembark.

Desperately holding back my tears, I'd listened as my freedom had been bartered away for a handful of dollars. How could this be, I wondered as I cringed against the far wall of the taxi, avoiding the eyes that so flatly demanded my obedience. I wasn't possible!

“You don’t want me to have to come in after you, Bitch,” he snarled. “Move your ass, or I’ll move it for you!”

He paused, and then as though he’d been hoping for a confrontation, he grabbed my ankle and began to drag me from the back seat, my dress rising to my pantyline, his knee between my thighs as I struggled against his large, muscular hands. Finally…with a sadistic smile, his palm rose and came crashing down on the right side of my face…then the left as my eyes filled with tears, my head ringing from his assault.

“You done yet, Bitch…or do you want some more?” he smiled, his hand rising once again.

“No…I’ll come,” I whimpered, remembering the pain of his blows, then slowly began to slide towards the open doorway.

“Hurry up!” The Suit snarled, his hand grabbing the front of my dress, dragging me, his hips pinning me against the right front fender of the taxi. “I want your passport, ticket and reservation! Where is it?” he demanded.

I hesitated, my body trembling…knees shaking. “I m expected, I’ll be missed,” I whined. “If you let me go…I won’t tell anyone…I promise!”

Once more his hand left a livid mark across my cheek as I cried out in pain.

“Passport! Ticket! Reservation!” he demanded loudly! “Not bullshit! Where are they…NOW!!”

Again my voice broke the stillness…no longer that of a woman-to-be, but that of a child begging to be spared punishment. “In my purse,” I whispered, “…all but the passport. It’s in my b-b-bra.”

Slowly, his eyes traveled downward toward the scoop-neck of my shift, as though he’d been given an early bonus. Smiling, he thrust his hand down my cleavage and began fumbling around inside of my bra. I cringed again, my hands automatically batting at his until he once again raised his free palm into the air for another blow.

Fearful, my arms dropped futilely to my sides as he grouped my breast, his fingers digging into my tender flesh, cruelly twisting the nipple as he felt me writhe against him. He smiled…a smile that turned the last of my hope to ashes… his hips grinding against me as he grasped the passport and removed it from my bra.

Slowly, he opened the tiny folder and scanned the picture before him. “Amy Carlisle, huh. Eighteen. Anchorage. Well, Bitch…say good-bye to Alaska,” he laughed as he tossed the document into a nearby drum, his fist once more closing on the neckline of my dress.

Quickly dragging me across the floor, like a dog on a leash, he forced me face-down upon a heavy metal table that sat isolated, in the center of the room. There, pinioning my body against the edge, he grasped my left wrist and tied it securely to a leg on the far side.

With my last ounce of defiance I lashed out with my heel, connecting painfully with what I assume must have been his shin.

I heard a groan, and then felt myself turned and thrown roughly on my back upon the table, his blows raining heavily left and right across my face.

I was stunned… throbbing with pain. In a daze, I felt myself once more spread-eagled, face down as my remaining wrist was secured to the far right leg of the table. I lay my quivering cheek against the cool surface beneath me, cringing as a low chuckle erupted from my persecutor. His hands… ever so ready, now slid between my thighs, separating them, stroking them, then binding my ankles…one at a time to the remaining table legs.

My tears… my tiny sobs seemed to energize him, and smiling once again he crossed to the taxi and took my purse from the back seat. He thrust his hand inside, and I saw my wallet, bought only last week at the local department store, appeared in his grasp…open…violated.

“A driver’s license. Are you a good driver, Amy?” he taunted, then tossed the license into the drum with the passport.

"Answer me, Bitch!"

Tears of fear and frustration welled up behind my eyelids. "Y-yes," I whispered, my voice small and vulnerable beneath his scrutiny.

Satisfied, he smirked and continued on…“Student I.D… Did you get good grades, Amy? I hope you’re a good student…my exams are brutal!” he laughed, amused at his own choice of words. Again, the small rectangle was swallowed whole by the large rusted drum in the corner. The Suit was having fun, and it showed in the distorted hang of his tailored pants.

“Credit card…credit card…credit card. My, we’re a high maintenance little Bitch, aren’t we, Amy? Not anymore. And cash,” he added, tossing the wallet, travelers checks and the remainder of the contents into the barrel's void along with the rest. “Three hundred dollars! Well, Amy, you just bought yourself for me, little girl,” he laughed.

Slowly he peeled a hundred from his fist, then tossed the remainder to the waiting taxi driver. “Get the hell outta here…I’ve got work to do,” he said squirting lighter fluid into the barrel and tossing in a match. “…but tell Samantha to come on down before you go,” he ordered.

Quickly the driver disappeared up the rusted metal stairs to the second floor, then returned with a severely stunning blond in an expensively tailored red suit.

“Call her hotel,” Suit ordered. “You’re Amy Carlisle…and you’re canceling… you’ve decided to stay the night with friends instead. Understood?”

Samantha gave Suit a cold smile, then watched as he rounded the table and placed his hand on my protruding buttocks. “We’re friends, aren’t we Amy?” he crooned, his fingers stroking the flesh beneath my hemline. “And…as your friend, I’m warning you to be very, very quiet while Samantha is on the line,” he whispered threateningly, his hand stroking idly as he watched the blond complete her call.

Her voice, blurred by the continuous ringing in my ears, suddenly ceased and she flicked the cell phone closed in her palm. “They’re going to charge the airline anyway, Amy…because YOU didn’t cancel early enough!” she laughed, pleased at her own joke.

Then she approached the table and took my face roughly between her palms. “Tony! What the hell happened to her! She’s a mess. We can’t deliver her like this! It’ll be ages before these bruises fade enough to do business. What in hell were you thinking!”

“She needed a lesson,” Tony grumbled angrily, “...so I gave her one. You want one too?”

The blond was immediately subdued, and turned her attention to me instead. “Well…maybe we can have some fun with her while we wait anyway. Is she a virgin?”

Tony smiled. “Don’t know…haven’t checked yet. No time like the present.”

The blond rubbed her palms against her thighs and murmured “No…let me. It’s my turn. You’ve had all the fun so far.”

I cringed, a low whimper escaping from my throat as I felt her position herself between my outstretched legs. “So…are you a virgin, Amy?” she murmured against my neck as she pressed her body atop mine, her long nails tracing dull red marks along the back of my thigh.

Panicked, I held my silence, hoping that “Samantha” would become bored and leave me alone, but such was not the case.

“Someone needs a little coaxing,” she continued, sliding my dress upward until it reached my bra, exposing my black lace panties to her gaze. I jerked against my bonds…struggling to avoid her probing touch, but my futile gesture only amused her.

“MMM…nice,” she commented as she slipped her fingers beneath my waistband and slowly peeled my delicate covering down to my quivering knees.

“So…I’ll ask again, Amy. Are you a virgin? Tell me sweets...I want to know…everything,” she murmured seductively as her fingers probed unerringly between my thighs.

I whimpered once again as I felt her long piercing nail press painfully into the tender flesh between my anus and vagina.

“Yes!” I cried, then…”…no, not anymore.”

“Well…which is it, then? Yes or no?” she questioned, her nail digging ever deeper.

I whimpered once more, drawing a sigh from her bright red lips. “N-no,” I confessed. “My boyfriend…he…I…did it once.”

Again she leaned atop my body, whispering in my ear. “Tell me, Sugar…I want to hear about it…all about it. Understood?” she ordered, her nail drawing a tiny trickle of blood where it dug incessantly.

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byKatherine English 2© 0 comments/ 64696 views/ 4 favorites

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