Chapter 6 : You're Losing Us Customers

"Take her back gentlemen," Oscar instructed his men. I was going back to the cantina. I didn't know if this was any better, or even worse. Surely, not having to see Efrain, El Cuchillo as his groupies called him, was a positive. However, the moment I looked up at George and the others, my stomach felt unsettled. "You heard the boss," George slithered, spit coming out from his mouth. The three other men gripped my arms tightly and started pulling me away. My thighs dragged against the concrete as they forcibly guided me towards the van. My eyes remained on the puddle of morphine in the distance. This time I didn't even bother looking out of the window on the ride back. It felt like I'd never see the real world again. I'd never be the first one in my family to graduate college, I'd never get the chance to see my best friend Miriam again, I'd never even get the chance to confront my papa to get answers. Hopelessness was seeping into me. Not because I'd been captive for long, but because I knew the feeling of freedom before this and had it snatched away from me. Arguably, it was worse than never having freedom at all. That's why Celeste seemed content to live out her life down there. We arrived back at El Lobo's, and the van door slid open violently, and I was tossed out onto the coarse asphalt. "Don't think about running, little girl, or else your punishment will be rougher," George rolled his 'r' sensually. I wanted to spit in his face, but Oscar stared straight at him and mocked, "George, your f*cking shrimp d*ck couldn't find its way into a wormhole." Served him right. Then Oscar rounded up his men and instructed, "Take her down to 'The Stables.'" My skin crawled. Everything that had a name attached to it turned out to be despicable. I had the sense this wouldn't be any different. I could tell just by El Lobo himself that he wasn't buttoned up and crisp like Efrain. Although it was impersonal, the concubine at 'The Pound' was orderly, systematic, and relatively clean. The cantina appeared that way—reputable, clean, austere—from the outside, but it was just a facade, surely, for much darker, dirtier things residing within. Before I could think anymore, my legs were being dragged again, and I wrapped my arms under my calves to try and brace the cuts coming from the chiseled pavement. I breathed a brief sigh of relief as we crossed the threshold between the alleyway and the cantina, where the asphalt was replaced by smooth stone tile which didn't do much to hurt me. I felt woozy seeing my own trail of blood dragging along the white mosaic stones, however. "Four men and you can't even pick her up off the ground," Oscar chided. "Which one of you is gonna clean this damn mess up? La pasma will be all up my a*s if they see this." "I'm sure George wouldn't mind a police officer's baton up his a*s," one of the men joked, getting approval from all his other buddies, except George. "Only if she's got some big titties on her," George chucked out. "Not sure that'd still be a 'she,' George." The same man rolled his eyes. George revealed, "Doesn't bother me as long as I can smother my face into some flesh." These weren't men, these were f*cking sick animals, and they still had their grimy paws all over me. I wished they would just lock me up wherever they were taking me so I could be alone. Oscar chimed in, "Well in that case, George, you can stick your tongue into this flesh on the ground until my floors are crystal clean!" His tone raised, and he was clearly annoyed. The business he ran was important to him, and I wondered if it meant more to him than just making money. "Yes, boss," George accepted, but he didn't seem to mind the punishment. Finally, George released me from his grasp, and as he was about to get down on all fours and use his tongue, Oscar tossed him a mop and a bucket. Now, he looked disappointed. The three other men took over compensating for the loss of George and carried me to the back of the cantina where we paused. The tallest man turned a key that looked like a wolf's tooth that was carefully placed at the middle pocket of a pool table. After a few seconds, a hatch opened up under the pool table with a wooden staircase leading down. With me tight in their grasps, the men continued marching downward and after we descended the dozen stairs, the door locked tight behind us. Immediately, a stench filled my nostrils—it wasn't just the smell of bodily fluids, but also liquor, nicotine, and latex. My stomach churned, and I wasn't sure if it was by the disgusting blend of scents or just the way my body was being warped in the air. "Can you let me down now?" I spat. "I have legs, you know." "Yes, precious, we can see those nice and close. I'd love to see where they lead to," one of the men said. They lead to my pelvis, dumbass. "Let her down," the tallest man ordered. "My arms are hurting. Plus, there's nowhere for her to go." These men were nothing compared to how polished and trained Efrain's men were. I felt I had a chance where I could actually take them on in a one-on-one situation, but I was still outnumbered and didn't even have a sense of my surroundings yet. After what felt like ages of being suspended in midair, my feet finally touched the ground. To my surprise, it was finely carpeted and didn't bother my feet. Ahead of me was just a long corridor, all painted black with a velvet carpet. A few dim wall sconces lined the otherwise plain hall and led to a singular rose colored door. A dim red light hung on a single cable of metal over the doorway. As we approached, I made out the words on a golden nameplate next to the entryway. "The Stables." A small note underneath engraved in the metallic plate read, "Don't disturb the animals." Suddenly, I wasn't so sure where they were taking me. I was expecting a brothel, a prison, not some petting zoo. The tall man knocked a certain rhythmic pattern against the door, and the entryway slowly opened. The man stepped aside and ushered me forward. All I could see was a blinding light shining through, and I raised my hand to try and block it. "Welcome to your new life," a deep voice greeted. "The chance to start over." I treaded forward, dragging my feet with uncertainty. But, I was perfectly happy with my life before, with my papa, with my friends, with my dreams, my memories. All of it was how I wanted it. I didn't want to become someone new as he was implying. Finally, the light subsided, and the sight in front of me made my legs loosen and collapse from under me. This had to be a hallucination. This wasn't possible. The black door, my last portal to my past life, slammed behind me, and I felt a rough pair of hands, presumably owned by the man with the deep voice, pulling me up by my neck. "Let's not waste time," he growled, but I couldn't move. I was dead weight, surely. What I was looking at was past horrific…it was unthinkable madness. Unfathomable cruelty. Glass boxes. Dozens of them. Filled with naked women. One box per lady. Each cubicle was enough for one to stand perfectly erect. "It's feeding time," I heard his voice faintly. My whole existence was in disarray. "F-f-for who?" I mumbled out the question. "The women of course, you dumbf*ck," he chided. I still never caught sight of the man leading me forwards. My focus was on the villainy staring back at me. "W-w-who are those men?" I wanted some sort of answer to help me piece together the abstract scene I was faced with: dozens of men standing in front of the glass confines rubbing themselves with their pants down. "They're testing the merchandise. They need to see if they'll be satisfied with their purchase." I wanted to heave, but I had no food in me. My throat was burning, like volcanic rocks had peppered my esophagus. I couldn't even swallow. I felt like I was about to suffocate. Any air that was left in the room was being poisoned. So, that's what feeding time was. Each pane of plexiglass had just enough room for a c*ck to fit into, and basically, it seemed the girls had no choice but to be showered with the seed from these scumbags. "Why—" I started, but the man kept pushing me forward. "Shut the f*ck up already. I answered enough questions," he spat. Immediately my eyes looked around, which box was going to be mine. To my relief, all were filled, which meant, for the time being, I wouldn't be participating in that sick ritual. As I walked by, all the compromised men who were rubbing themselves shifted their gaze over to me. One short bald man who surely couldn't see his p*nis under his beer gut as he rubbed it, shouted out, "Felix, you've been holding out on us?" He released a dirty cackle. Felix called back, "New arrival, Juan Carlos. She'll be out there soon enough." Both of the men were familiar with each other, which made this even sicker. I just wondered, how soon was soon enough? Felix finally stepped forward and took the lead in front of me, trying to block me from the horny men. "You're going to make us lose sales today." Was that supposed to make me feel good? I was so beautiful a bunch of debased sickos wanted me more than the other women? I tried to keep my focus on where we were going, not wanting to make eye contact with all the men who were staring at me lasciviously. We finally crossed the length of the room, which was expansive like an airplane hangar, before we reached a set of stairs that led deeper. As we walked down the concrete slabs, motion-sensing lights flicked on as if they were leading us to a specific destination. Felix's grip on me loosened, probably because he knew I had nowhere I could go. His fingers were so long around my small wrist I think they nearly wrapped around twice. I imagined how they would look if he shifted, assuming he was a shifter. Usually I could tell by a scent, but the intoxicating odor of bodily fluids stripped me of my wolf's senses. We finally reached the end of the long concrete tunnel, which looked like a bomb shelter. Clearly, they wanted their assets well-protected. A round metal vault door awaited us, and Felix twisted the wheel with ease, although it looked impossible for any normal person to open. "I'll get you when you're needed," he instructed coolly and tossed me in. The lights were dim, so it was hard to see exactly what resided in here, but we were in some sort of a cave with an opening to the ocean. I heard the sloshing ofwater hitting the walls and saw a faint lantern on the end of a stick that revealed an inlet. Small wooden boats full of young women sat huddled on the tiny vessels where they entered the cave. Women were being pulled off of the boats, and I wondered where they came from and where they were being led to. They all looked meager, distressed, and clearly, taken against their will like me. Then, before I could even stand on my own feet, a man grabbed me violently by my wrist and forcefully led me to the left of the pier, further into the cave. There stood a row of seemingly never ending prison cells, each with only two girls per confinement. He pushed me inside of the cell, where a timid young woman was sitting patiently. She had striking red hair and deep indigo blue eyes. The contrast of the two colors looked like an open flame–a strong blue encircled in a fiery red. After the bars slammed shut, her eyes peered up at me. She offered a smile, as if she was awaiting company. Then, she rose to her feet, but it seemed difficult, and I could even see a bit of her bones. She must have been here for a long time. Maybe because of her poor condition, no one wanted to buy her? Her scrawny hand extended to greet mine, and I returned the gesture. I could tell by the warmth pulsating from her palms that she was going to be a source of comfort for me as long as I remained here. "Thank you...." I whispered, so as not to draw attention. I trailed off not knowing her name. But, as if she read my mind, she filled in, "Ginger." "Catalina," I answered back, finding a bit of relief that I wouldn't be alone here.