Page 31 of Frat Row

Of course, I am in the front, limping from the pain. I start to follow him through a door in the back of the room, which again has a keypad. He types in the four-digit code with ease, and it opens. I look up, and over the door is a camera.

We are led through another hallway, where we take a left and walk for quite a while until we come to a door on our right, where he stops and punches in the code.

Instantly, I see about twenty patient beds with stirrups and arm cuffs, and sitting in front of them on chairs are women in scrubs and masks.

Beside them are small tables with tools scattered on top, some of which I’ve seen in my gynecologist’s office, but the others look like something out of a horror movie.

The armed guard for this room comes up and claps Rio on the back. “Hey, Rio, rough group today?” His eyes darken, hoping for anyone still fighting.

Rio smirks back and responds, “Not too bad, man; I got to at least taste some of the merchandise this time.” He looks back and stares right at me.

Holding back a gag, I look elsewhere in disbelief.

Each woman in scrubs comes over, grabs our wrists, and leads us back to their assigned station.

The woman who grabbed me has short blonde hair and blue eyes that come off devoid of any emotion, and she whispers, “Lay back on the bed, legs in the stirrups, and lift your gown.”

The men have formed a half circle, talking to each other and eyeing us to ensure we aren’t causing any trouble.

As sneakily as possible, trying not to get caught, I glance at the chart beside her, trying to read anything that is on it. There are bullet points and then an outline of a naked human’s body. This one has small red x’s on both my nipples.

That couldn’t be piercings. What the fuck? I throw my head back on the bed and squeeze my eyes shut in anger.

The nurse jostles me, hands me two pills, and whispers, “Take these. It will help with the pain.” I take them immediately, dry with no water.

She turns on the wax machine next to her, and as it heats up, she organizes the tools, getting them ready.

“Lift your arms over your head and don’t move, or else I’m going to have to cuff them,” she whispers. For once, I don’t resist, and I do exactly what I’m told.

Placing a dollop of hot wax on both of my armpits, she waves her arm in the air above them, willing them to dry for a minute.

After both seem dry enough for her, she sets down the paper on top and, with plenty of practice, pulls it as I bite my lip, holding in the yelp of pain from the stinging.

Working her way down my body, she waxes my arms, torso, and legs, pausing when she reaches what is between my legs.

Double-checking the chart, she places the wax on my bikini line and rips off the paper smoothly. This time, I whisper-shout “AH” loudly.

Zane walks over with a deadly expression and tells me, “Shut your mouth, or I’ll put something in it,” as he grabs his crotch, taunting me with it.

I turn my head away from him as a mix of horror and disgust washes over my face.

My nurse then reaches for the clippers and starts trimming the hair in between my legs. I glance at the chart again, and there is a triangle on my vaginal area.

The buyers must like a little hair in between our legs, or maybe it’s just me.

She begins putting antiseptic on a cloth, and I know what's coming next. I look up at the ceiling with silent tears flowing down my face, knowing I have absolutely no control over my body. They own me. They are going to put holes in my body as they would an animal.

She gets her piercing gun. This is it. She does my right nipple first, and I bite down on my tongue from the sensitivity and pain, and then she quickly does my left nipple. Biting my tongue harder, I taste that familiar coppery taste in my mouth. I look down. Two black barbels.

How unique.

“Okay, great, number 9003 is all set,” she shouts, and then throws off her gloves, standing up and tossing them into a trash can.

One of the men rushes over to me and grabs my arm roughly, practically pulling my arm from my shoulder blade.

“How could you do this?” I barely say above a whisper, making eye contact with the woman. She looks at me with sorrow in her eyes. “Some people are enslaved in different ways,” she whispers back to me and quickly looks away.

I notice the other girls getting piercings. Some of them are getting them in their tongue, clitoris, outer labia where the metal chain connects, their inner labia, and more nipple piercings. All of them, I realize, are for sexual pleasure.

I can barely stand to watch as they squirm and whimper with pain and, above all, turn red with humiliation.

Rio has his rifle in the front of his torso now, eager to display sternness directed at us.

“Form a line when you are finished; it's time for you to meet the good ol’ doctor now.” He chuckles.

After everyone is done, we line up, and they open the door with another code. We shuffle our feet with our heads down to another room, where we are made to wait outside.

“One at a time,” he says, gesturing us in.

Like always, it seems to be a pattern. I’m first again, and I walk into the most sterile room I’ve seen, with lights on the ceiling that you would typically see in a dentist’s office so the doctor can adjust them to their liking.

One of the evilest-looking men I’ve ever seen sits on a stool. He is smirking, and his eyes look like dark pits.

“Get on the table with your legs spread as far as they can go,” he commands, snapping his gloves on.

I hop up on the table and hesitate for a second about putting my legs in another stirrup. What the fuck is this guy going to do to me? While I’m adjusting myself, completely humiliated, he goes and locks the door.

“You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you?” he sneers.

Spread eagle on the table, I begin sweating and taking deep breaths. I feel as though I may pass out.

Beside the table, he has an array of tools that look medieval.

“Untie your gown,” he commands, and I shiver and do as I’m told.

He examines my nipple piercings. “Perfect, she did a fabulous job,” he purrs. He tweaks one of them, and I whimper and try to squirm backwards, which is impossible since I am lying back in a chair.

He snaps his gloves again, making sure they are secure; I jump at the sound. I’m shivering all over now, and he puts his hands on the inside of my thigh, inches away from in between my legs.

“Are you on birth control?” he asks

“I have an IUD,” I tell him shakily.

He nods and looks over at the tray beside us, picking up a speculum.

He inserts it into my vaginal opening, holding it open.

Then he grabs the forceps and slowly tugs on the IUD strings, pulling it out.

It’s uncomfortable but not horrible. My back arches, and then it is out, followed by the speculum.

Grabbing some antiseptic pads, he rubs them over my upper arm. Swiftly, I see him snatch a pre-filled needle.

“What’s that?” I ask.

“Birth control. You can never be too safe in a place like this.” He looks me over, leering at my body.

The injection enters my body, and he rolls his stool back in front of my spread legs, his head inches from me. I can feel his hot breath.

“What a beautiful clit you have. The hood is perfectly symmetric,” he whispers.

His finger brushes the outside of my pussy and flicks my clit. Then, he begins gently rubbing it, moaning his approval.

“Give me your wrists,” he demands. I stall temporarily, wondering what he is going to do. Then, I think that anything is better than back out there with Rio preying on me. I put them in front of me, and he reaches over and locks them at my sides with padded cuffs.

“I want to see that gorgeous clit swell up and see your face as you come undone,” he breathily says.

Oh fuck, be careful what you wish for.

I clench my thighs. This should feel wrong, but by his sensual touches, I can tell he knows exactly what he is doing.

He begins by gently stroking the insides of my thighs and then smacks them hard, making me moan. He shoves his nose right in my clit and inhales deeply.

“You smell divine, and I bet you taste even better.”

I am overcome with shock, and I just stay silent because I have no idea what this man is going to do to me. I’m going to collapse at any moment, my body not ready to take anymore.

He takes his thumb and pointer finger and pinches my clit a little roughly, and I shriek, squeezing my eyes shut. Then, he begins gently massaging it. Fuck, this man knows his way around a vagina. I try to fight it because I know this is so wrong.

He rubs my little nub faster and faster. I’m arching my back at this point, overcome by the sensation. He stops right before I’m about to combust, and I flop down disappointed. Then he begins probing me with his tongue in and out of my hole.

“Fuck,” I squeal, overcome with pure bliss, trying adamantly to fuck his face, chasing that high.

He goes back to interchangeably rubbing my clit sideways and tongue fucking me. That feeling of euphoria sweeps over me, and the tingles begin in my upper back and melt down my body.

I scream out as my orgasm hits, and he watches with delight as my pussy contracts and spasms. I squirt all over this man’s face, and he looks thrilled, licking it all up.

“If you weren’t going up for auction, I’d keep you chained in my basement all to myself,” he states. “Your vaginal health seems to be intact. I’ll just take some blood samples and do a vaginal swab, and you are good to go.”

My forehead bunches up in confusion. Auction? My heart races, and my face turns pale; they are grooming us to sell us?!

He ties the rubber band around my arm, sticks the needle in, and fills a couple of vials with blood. Then, he uses that tool to open my vagina and swabs it, putting that in a test tube as well. He marks them with a pen and tosses them in a basket behind me.

My face drops to complete horror as I try to process what just happened and why I let this man even touch me.

I have to convince myself that they are toying with me. Finding some sort of pleasure to be able to escape for even a little bit of time in this house of horrors is how I’m going to be able to cope with this.

He gets up, unlocks the door, and yells, “Next!”

He pulls me out of the cuffs and shoves me into the hands of one of the guards who comes in through another door. I don’t even notice who since I am so dazed from that incredible orgasm. I still feel the guilt gnawing at me from enjoying it.

I wait outside the room against the wall as, one by one, the girls filter out with the guards walking in front of us, holding their guns in front of them, silently pleading for us to give them trouble.

We are then shuffled like cattle into this gray cement room with multiple shower heads.

“You have 5 minutes to wash up, starting now.” Not caring which guard said it, lost in my own anxiety, my feet just lead me under a showerhead, and most of us, including me, have to share one.

I feel almost immune to my nudeness in front of everyone.

Ice-cold water hits me as I hop backward, but I don’t care as long as I can get the grime and stickiness off of me.

There is shampoo and conditioner, so I wash my hair, not knowing when our next chance to shower might come.

I carefully wash my body, avoiding my new piercings, as they are sore and inflamed.

After finishing, I find the towel basket and grab one, drying off and slipping my gown back on.

There are holes in the ground to relieve ourselves, so I do; after gently wiping and seeing all of the blood, I throw it in, unable to look at it any longer.

After washing my hands, one of the guards points for me to go outside the room and wait on the wall like before.

After all the women finish up, we are led to a set of stairs and retreat down them for about three floors.

All I can do is stagger in whatever direction we’re being led to.

We stop at another room, and this one has a thick metal door with the smallest window at the top.

You would have to be at least six feet tall to look in.

They unlock it, and one of them says, “Get the fuck in there.”

I look down while I slowly walk in, drenched in shame. To my complete surprise, there are bunk beds, some already filled with women. They each contain a pillow and a blanket, if you can even call them that. They seem so worn down. Same as before.

I pick a bunk and lay down immediately, closing my eyes. Tears start pouring down, and eventually, the blackness takes over.