Trafficked Love Ch. 18 - Sex Stories

Trafficked Love Ch. 18

... the beer he was holding, still staying quiet. “I got something for you.” Frank stood, causing Rich to look over at him, wondering what the man was up to. He watched as Frank staggered out of the room and upstairs. After some thumping around upstairs, and some mumbling that Rich couldn’t hear well enough to understand, Frank returned, dragging along a very thin, very pale, and very naked girl. Rich recognized the girl. She was the youngest of Frank’s girls, and Frank kept her as his “private play-thing.” Rich had only seen her once or twice out of the entire year he worked for Frank. She had dark brown, almost black hair that hung down to her mid back, and brownish green eyes that held a light within them, even after having been tortured by Frank for so many years. Rich knew the girl grew up in this life, under Frank’s rule. She probably didn’t know any other life than this. Rich also knew some of the tortures the girl had survived through, not because he witnessed them, but because Frank had bragged about them. She should have died a long time ago. His tortures should have killed her years ago. She defied all odds, and that was the light in her eyes. “She’s yours now.” Rich shook his head slightly, breaking his thoughts to comprehend what ...

... Frank just said. “What?” “I said, she’s yours now. I’m giving her to you.” Frank grabbed the girl by her hair and practically threw her at Rich. “She’s a lot of fun to play with. Fully trained, and ready to go. She’ll do anything.” Rich caught the girl as she went tumbling to him. She tensed in his arms, and he could feel her resisting the urge to pull away from him. He set her on the floor, and she pulled her legs under her body, to kneel at his feet. Rich gently moved a strand of hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. He put a finger under her chin and tilted her head up. She wouldn’t look him in the eyes, but he looked her over, noticing her bruises and the scars that littered her body. “What’s her name?” Frank huffed, then took another swig of his beer before yelling again at the TV. The girl had no name. Frank never named his girls. They were either numbered, or referred to by derogatory names. Rich thought a moment, still looking the girl over. She had to be no older than eleven or twelve. She was fragile, and despite the hell she had endured under Frank, she was innocent. “Angel.” He whispered, only loud enough for the girl to hear. He smiled, looking at her once more. Then his smile softened as he noticed she was watching him.