Too High a Price

"Arms up."

John looked at her curiously before lifting his arms and flinched as her fingers felt along his armpits.

"So your pubic hair hasn't begun to grow yet? How old are you?"

"Fifteen."

"You've got awfully nice tits to not have pubic hair yet. You a virgin?"

"Y-yes."

She smirked at him. "Come on then. Into the tub. You stink and you need a bath."

John knew damn well that wasn't true but he kept his mouth shut and cooperated. For the next hour she washed his body and his hair and was most thorough, leaving not a single square inch of skin untouched by her hands. She was inspecting him, for what purpose he could only imagine.

When his hair was dry and brushed out, John followed her out into the bedroom. She handed him the clothes on the bed, expecting to watch him get dressed.

He unfolded the garment and discovered a plain white cotton nightgown, a babydoll. Keeping to the image he was cultivating, he whined, "aren't there any panties?"

She smirked at me, chuckling. "You don't need panties, you're going to bed. Now quit your whining and get dressed."

He slipped the soft cotton nightgown over his head and let it fall into place. It was comfortable but he discovered that it was very short, barely covering him. Being four foot ten and change, he had to wonder how old the last girl who wore this was. He resolved to make these monsters pay. Every one of them.

"So? What do you think about our new acquisition?"

"Amazing. Truly amazing. Where did you find her?"

"Believe it or not, that pig Adleson brought her last night. I couldn't believe my eyes when he walked in with her. I don't think that moron had any idea what a find she is. So, tell me."

"I checked her out thoroughly, head to foot. Every square inch of her. She is absolutely flawless. There isn't so much as a single blemish anywhere on her body. No marks, tattoos, piercings, nothing. She doesn't even have pierced ears."

"Really? Oh, that is rare indeed."

"That's not all." She paused as Mrs Bronstein's eyebrows went up a notch. "The girl has no pubic hair. No body hair at all. Her legs, arm pits, between her legs, nothing at all. I checked very closely. She has those fine little hairs that you can't feel and can only see in bright sunlight so I know for a fact that she doesn't shave or wax. And the punchline? That girl is a virgin or I'm George Washington."

"You can't be serious."

"Oh, I'm serious all right. Oh, I forgot. She's a natural blonde. This girl is seriously valuable."

Mrs Bronstein sat back in the garden chair and sipped on her coffee, lost in thought. After a few moments she put her cup down and looked at her favorite assistant.

"I want you to get her measurements. Do some shopping. I want dresses, shoes and swimsuits. Make it innocent but accidentally sexy. Except for the swimsuits. I want those to be blatantly sexy as an advertisement for our wares. I want whoever gets her to know what they are getting."

"She's going to freak. That girl is seriously shy. She was whining last night about not having panties with her nightgown and she kept trying to cover herself so I couldn't see her."

"Oh, how fun! Alright then. Get her some white cotton panties, thin material, almost translucent. But the swimsuits? No liners. I want to see nipples and camel toe. I want to see her dying of embarrassment. My goodness I intend to give one of those old perverts a heart attack. After he pays me of course."

She smiled at a thought. "There's going to be a bidding war."

Chapter 8

Mr and Mrs Bronstein were waiting at the breakfast table when John arrived, close behind Ms McNeal. Mrs Bronstein eyed him like a shark stalking its next victim while her husband who he hadn't yet met just proved that he was a dirty old man. He smirked at the girl's shyness when she tried hiding behind Ms McNeal. John wondered if he was that easy to manipulate when he was a man. He put those disturbing thoughts away, returning his focus on the mission.

John and Ms McNeal sat across from them in the hotel restaurant and Mrs Bronstein started in on her sales pitch, trying it out on her husband.

"Just look at her Sam. Isn't she a vision?"

"Yes, how old did you say she was?"

"Fifteen, dear."

"They're going to love her tomorrow night." He chuckled at a thought. "I hope she'll like Tel Aviv."

"What!?" John couldn't help himself, his mouth opening before his brain engaged. He sat there with a look of horror on his face and his mouth hanging open.

Mrs Bronstein shot daggers at her husband, furious at his stupidity. She thought frantically for a way to convince John that he was making a bad joke. Finally her poise returned.

"Sam was talking about our trip in November. We're taking our grandson to Israel to see some family and he had suggested last night that we ask you to join us, to watch him. He's four years old and so adorable."

John was impressed with how quickly she came up with the lie so he pretended to fall for it. "Oh, okay."

"You see, we know that you want to be an Au Pair and since your original employment fell through we're trying to figure something out for you. The party tomorrow night will be the perfect place to find a new job, which of course is why we agreed to bring you."

"Well, I really appreciate it. Sorry that I spoke up like that."

"Don't worry about it, dear. We just want to help. Now about this weekend, there will be some very wealthy people there and some of them can be different, a few are even a little strange so I want you to do just what I say to make the best impression for them."

Damn, she was smooth, John thought. "Yes ma'am, I will."

"Now, in an effort to make the best possible impression, I had Ms McNeal pick up a few things for you, such as the dress you are wearing now."

John looked down at his lap, with his knees demurely together. The dress he was wearing was a very nice one made from some kind of off white gauze. The material was very transparent but there were several layers so it was modest and very feminine. Except for the length. It was quite short. Short enough that for a change he was glad to be wearing panties though admittedly, as transparent as they were they didn't add much to the modesty of the outfit.

"I was meaning to say thank you for the dress. It's very pretty."

"I'm glad you like it, it does look good on you. When you first came to us I noticed that you were wearing a trapeze dress and you looked so adorable in it, so Ms McNeal picked up a few more of them for you."

"Well, thank you so much for all your help."

"So, are you hungry? The Breakers makes such a wonderful brunch."

The mansion was certainly impressive, much bigger than the Bronstein place in the Hamptons. Mr and Mrs Bronstein were regaling Mr Rothstein with stories of their last visit to Israel while John was just out of earshot at the edge of the pool. His feet were dangling in the warm water as he looked at the waves breaking on the beach. He was not, however, relaxing. His initial target was Rothstein but from the way Mrs Bronstein went on and on about the party tomorrow night, there might just be a target rich environment.

He heard his name called and knew that it was time for another of Mrs Bronstein's pathetic attempts to curry favor. Using him of course. He picked up his sandals and walked to the patio table leaving wet footprints along the way.

John didn't say anything as he stood at her side, waiting meekly for her to tell him what she wanted. She certainly enjoyed the contrast between his quiet personality and her aggressive one. That must be why she put up with her weakling of a husband.

"Katrina dear, it's such a nice morning. Why don't you go put on a swimsuit and go swimming? Find Ms McNeal in the kitchen and she'll help you."

"Yes ma'am"

So that was her game, John realized. She was going to parade him around in front of the old letch. He wanted to grumble but wisely kept it to himself. This is what was necessary.

He found Ms McNeal in the kitchen as expected and she led him upstairs to a bedroom. She pulled a swimsuit out of a drawer so apparently this was to be his room. She dropped the scraps of cloth into his hands.

"Put that on. Don't dawdle."

He knew better by now not to complain about changing in front of her and it occurred to him not for the first time, that she was as much of a pervert as the rest of this bunch. He picked the dress up over his head and laid it neatly out on the bed, not wanting to wrinkle such a pretty thing. Then he peeled the translucent bikini panties off, taking care to keep his back to her. Picking up the bright red bikini bottom, he was confused for a moment. It was a thong and it wasn't clear how he was supposed to wear it. Apparently he took too long in his confusion.

"For heaven's sake girl, haven't you ever worn a thong? What are you, twelve?"

He pretended to be embarrassed as she snatched it from his hands and physically turned John to face her. He quickly covered himself with his hands.

Ms McNeal slapped his hand away that was covering his left breast and he reluctantly put his hands down at his sides. She rearranged the tiny bit of Lycra and held it out.

"Put it on like this."

John stepped into it and the woman slid it up his legs, then slipped her fingers between the tiny triangle and his most sensitive skin, ostensibly to adjust the fit. The truth is, John knew, she's just a pervert who wanted to cop a feel.

He squirmed around and reached behind, pulling the string out from between his butt cheeks before letting it go again.

"Stop squirming. You'll get used to it. Put on the top. If you can figure out how."

In the end, he had to hold his hair up out of the way so she could tie the bows. She adjusted the bows on the bottom as well and stepped back to study him.

"It'll do. Come on, they're waiting."

John wanted to stop at a mirror to see what he looked like but she dragged him along without pause. He tried to calm himself, telling himself that he had been naked in front of strangers in the gym locker room on the day he met Christie, but truthfully that was different. They were all women and not old perverts like Rothstein.

He put it out of his mind just as they arrived at the pool.

"My, my Katrina, you do look lovely in your new bikini."

He looked down in his best shy pose and was stunned as he saw how thin the material was. His nipples were blatantly obvious as they poked through the material. Even the tiny bumps in the surrounding areola were clearly visible. His voice stammered on its own.

"Um, thank you?"

"Oh, don't be shy dear."

Rothstein piped up then, his deep voice wavering with age and excitement. "Yes, you really are a sight my dear."

His eyes raked up and down John's body and his tongue flicked out, clearing the spittle that had collected in the corner of his thin lips. He looked at the bikini bottom, staring as an uncomfortable silence fell on everyone.

"Are you cold, girl?" He asked as he reached up and flicked John's protruding nipple with the back of an arthritic old finger.

He jumped back in horror at the touch, gasping in surprise.

"Katrina!"

John glanced at Mrs Bronstein with a stern look of disapproval on her face. She subtly shook her head.

Apparently without noticing his reaction or Mrs Bronstein's admonishment, Rothstein continued. "Come, come my dear. You're cold. Come sit on my lap and warm yourself."

He raised his liver spotted hand in invitation and John hesitated, glancing once more at Mrs Bronstein in hopes of a reprieve. She nodded at him, insisting that he accept the unwanted offer.

With a feeling of utter disgust John sat on the old man's bony thigh with as little contact as he could get away with. Quick as a snake his arm shot around John's waist and pulled him fully up on his lap. God, he hated being a ninety one pound girl. If he was still a man John thought, he would have snapped his scrawny neck like a twig.

John felt his fetid breath on the top of his head and it made him squirm, but the old man held him tightly against his chest with a cold hand on his stomach. John calmed himself and let his face become serene, gradually relaxing on the outside.

That worked for a little while until John felt him moving under him. His side of the conversation had faltered as if he was distracted and soon enough John knew the reason why. The old fucker had a hard-on and was rubbing it against John's ass. He tried again to get up to no avail, unable to break the iron grip on his waist.

Suddenly Rothstein relaxed and loosened his grip. John sprung up off of his lap like he was shot from a cannon and sprinted to the other side of the table. Mrs Bronstein looked at him and at Rothstein with barely contained glee.

"What is it, dear? You seem out of sorts."

He needed to get out of there and clear his head and said the first thing that came to mind. "Can I go for a walk on the beach?"

Perhaps knowing that he couldn't get far on the island wearing next to nothing, she relented with a jovial laugh. "Yes dear, have fun. Don't be gone too long though, we're having lunch at noon."

"What time is it now?"

"It's ten thirty."

With that John spun on his heels and ran to the beach. He could feel his boobs bouncing slightly and the string tied in a bow between his butt cheeks tickled but he didn't care. He ran to clear his mind of the disgusting perverts back at the house. The thought of living his life out as a defenseless girl, a girl so pretty that she invited abuse by every random pervert was wearing him down.

He was sweating and out of breath by the time the beach pavilion came into view and slowed to a walk to cool down. It was more crowded here, though not by weekend standards and John made his way through the tables towards the water fountains.

"You ran a long way. Is there something wrong?"

John kept drinking as though he didn't hear Mr Green's voice. When he had his fill, he turned, catching his eye and headed for an unoccupied table to rest. After a minute he sat at the next table, close enough that they could have a private and unobtrusive conversation.

"Everything's fine. I just needed to get out of there and clear my head."

"No, there's more to it than that. I've been doing this for a long time and you can try the old 'oorah' on me if you want, but I'm not fooled. Now what's going on?"

Mr Green turned to look at his potentially invaluable agent in time to see the girl's shoulders slump. He had never met the Captain before his transformation but he had read his classified personnel file before he was selected. Inside of this gorgeous young girl's body was a true badass; a big, strong and fearsome warrior who had killed and been wounded in battle numerous times.

He forced himself to think of his agent as Zoey. He couldn't help but think that the fact was, there was an emasculated man in there and this involuntary transformation had to have a profound psychological effect on him.

This girl in front of him whose toes barely touched the sandy concrete was slumped over, visibility deflated. Perhaps the bikini had something to do with it. From the back there was literally no material, only bright red strings tied in three big bows. Her long disheveled hair covered all but the one string that disappeared between her little round cheeks, making the illusion that she was nude. He studied her for long minutes until she cleared her throat and in a young girl's voice, answered him.

"In the last few days I've been for all intents and purposes kidnapped, trapped, pushed around, poked and prodded, stripped naked and humiliated. I've been molested and sold from one pervert to the next and tomorrow night I have the dubious honor to be sold at auction. Just thirty minutes ago a feeble old pervert held me against himself and humped me until he came in his pants. The perverts who were watching, then laughed at me before giving me permission to walk on the beach. Permission! In my old body I would have killed them all with my bare hands without breaking a sweat. This will be my life, won't it?

"You woke up one day powerless, expecting to always be a victim. I promise you, you won't always be one. I can only imagine what you're going through. No, I'll be honest with you, I can't imagine it. But I'll tell you something that you can never reveal. We are not law enforcement and none of these people are going to be tried for their crimes. They will pay though and when we have squeezed everything useful from them, if you want to, you can make them pay however you like."

There was a noticeable stiffening of her spine, almost as if life was returning to a walking corpse.

"We've been watching your progress in the karate studio you know. You're getting quite good with your outstanding reflexes, balance and coordination but I'm sure you've noticed that you aren't getting any stronger. Your body was already above average in fitness and strength for a girl your size but the nanites inside you will not allow any further muscle growth. Your body is as strong right now as it will ever be."

John turned to face Mr Green with a curious look on his face, drifting somewhere between hope and despair. He looked down at his hands, small and delicate, feminine hands with a perfect manicure.

"That's not much of a pep talk, Mr Green."

He looked at Zoey as she sat facing him, legs straddling the bench seat. The bikini she wore left nothing to the imagination and she might as well have been naked. He put those unprofessional thoughts out of his mind and continued his talk.

"My point is that while karate may someday be useful, the fact is that even as old as I am it is unlikely that you could ever hurt me."

John looked up at him, wondering where this was going.

"You could, however, kill me, and without much effort." He paused and let that thought sink in.

"Have you ever killed a man with a knife?"

"You know I have. Don't pretend that you don't know everything about me."

"Of course, it was a rhetorical question. If you had an eight inch filet knife in your hand right now you could gut me like a fish before I could even react and be long gone before I bled out. My point is this, you no longer have brute strength. Accept it. Deal with it and move on. Adapt to your other strengths. Surprise, speed and ruthlessness are your strengths now. Use them."

"Alright. Message received, Mr Green. It's time to get my head out of my ass."

"There's another thing I want you to keep in mind. I know damn well you've already thought of this but you aren't the first to be abused by these people but if you keep your head in the game you could be the last."

John grinned at him. "Yeah, think of the children. Now that's a pep talk."

Chapter 9

John stood in a quiet corner of the room trying to be invisible behind the black grand piano and the vase of flowers on it. He was slowly getting over yesterday's trauma, helped greatly by Mr Green's intervention followed by a good night's sleep. He smiled as he remembered the ham handed efforts of Mrs Bronstein last night. Only an idiot wouldn't have noticed how upset he was after being mauled by Rothstein and Mrs Bronstein was no idiot. She was however an incompetent favorite Aunt.

He was in bed, ready to turn off the bedside lamp when she came in and sat on the edge of the bed near him. He had subconsciously pulled the covers up to cover his thin nightgown and she had certainly noticed that.

"Oh, my sweet child, are you alright? Is there anything I can do to help? I know that Mr Rothstein had a disturbing reaction to you sitting on his lap but I want you to know that I don't think he could help it. He is very old and sometimes when you get old your body doesn't react as it should."

His thoughts were disturbed by Ms McNeal grabbing his arm and dragging him out of his hiding place.