Memories that he sometimes wished that he could strip from his recollection.
However, sometimes his mind wandered off without his permission and delved into that perilously vast pit of recollections.
Every single room had some kind of association that it brought with it. Some reminded him of the pain his father inflicted on him with bloody and brutal beatings, others flooded him with the memories of his mother’s warm hugs, and of course some were full to brimming with remembrances of his time with Drusilla.
And now there was a new memory.
His night with Buffy.
Spike wasn’t sure why he couldn’t purge the young blonde from his mind. It wasn’t as if anything concrete had actually happened between them. Well not unless you counted her putting her knee sharply into his crotch which had caused some very concrete pain. But nothing romantic, or even sexual, had happened between them in the end.
Anyway, she was just one girl out of hundreds that had crossed his path. It wasn’t as if she was even anything that special.
Except that…she kind of was more special than he’d have liked to admit.
The teenager hadn’t kowtowed to him like most people of both sexes did. And he liked that sass. She hadn’t been afraid to tell him what she thought and had held little back from him even when she was in grave jeopardy. Buffy had given him a bitter dose of reality which he really should have hated.
And yet…that was the exact reason why he couldn’t stop her from invading every single one of his current thoughts, both waking and sleeping.
As nice as it might sound to have people pretty much bowing down to you at every turn, in truth he was bored of minions and fake women acting like he was something special because of his bloodline. To him his bloodline meant only darkness and pain. Touching reality might have been bittersweet at least it wasn’t a badly constructed fantasy like the rest of his life.
Of course it didn’t help that Drusilla, the one person he believed was real in all of this, had abandoned him when he needed her the most. It was really little wonder that he felt so confused right now, his mind and a heart a whirl of tumultuous emotions. She’d always been a flaky woman, but realizing that she was having an affair was devastating to him.
Perhaps the gaping hole that Drusilla had left in his heart had allowed Buffy to slither into his mind. Despite her attempt to commit mass genocide on his little swimmers, the teenaged, green eyes blonde had firmly wedged herself in there.
“You’ve always been a git when it comes to women, Spike ole boy,” he muttered to himself gulping down a mouthful of whiskey.
For so many years Spike had made Drusilla his everything. She had been the center of his existence even though he was only a dog to her. Yes, he was just a dog that she never had any qualms about kicking for her own pleasure. But he hadn’t cared about that because he was happy to be able to beg at her feet. He took the punishments she gave him and then begged for more.
All he’d wanted was to have someone to love and to be loved. But still, apart from his mother, he’d never experienced that. And he’d certainly never experienced real romantic love from a woman.
In fact he was starting to doubt that he would ever be lucky enough to be embroiled in such a thing.
“Give up mate,” he sighed, wallowing in his own misery. “Born to be a bloody loser, aren’t you?”
Sometimes it was just easier to pretend that didn’t matter to him anyway. He was, after all, the Big Bad. Being the son of Ethan Rayne and acting like a punky badass fooled the whole world into believing that he really couldn’t care less about receiving love. Sometimes he even fooled himself.
And then sometimes he would be all alone, like right now, and his loneliness would creep up on him and nip him on his very bitable little ass.
Spike heaved himself to his feet and rested his tipsy body against the wall. The bleach blond pulled a flask out of his long leather duster and took another swig. It was the last alcohol in his possession right now. Thinking about Drusilla’s indiscretions and his boundless loneliness drove him to the whiskey and he was sure he’d imbibed the equivalent of a distillery during the past few days.
He couldn’t help his craving for the demon drink though. Thinking about his former paramour and the pathetic state of his life really didn’t help his delicate mental state. It was always her fault.
Unless you asked Drusilla, of course.
In that case it was always Spike’s fault.
He supposed it was a good thing that she was in Ireland with Angelus right now or he might just do something he’d regret, like ripping her cold, black heart from the cavity of her chest and forcing her to eat it with a side of fries.
Except that he wouldn’t, because he’d never hurt a hair on her head, not really. The sad truth was that if she came begging for his forgiveness right now he would probably take her back. Hell, the woman wouldn’t even have to beg. She’d probably just need to flash her sad, childlike eyes at him and he’d be her puppy once again.
Yes, he had no pride when it came to that woman. The worst part of his whole relationship with Drusilla was the fact that he was even prepared to endure her faithlessness. He suspected for a long time that she was involved with her stepfather and his distant cousin, the renowned sex trader, Angelus.
There were times when she would sneak off for weeks, not even bothering to give him an excuse for where she’d been. Sometimes she even inadvertently flaunted what he assumed was the physical evidence of the trysts too as she displayed her bruised body to him. The weeping welts that often peppered her milky skin made him sick to his stomach. Drusilla passed it off as her own clumsy fault for slipping and falling. Spike should have realized she was lying but he was too blinded by his misguided love for her.
He just put it out of his mind and pretended everything was okay because he thought that love was about trust.
Love and trust. Did they even exist?
He snorted as he thought about the person that was supposed to love Buffy the most was the one that stuffed her into the jaws of evil.
And there was that damn name again! ‘Buffy.’
Buffy! Buffy! Buffy!
The bitch was haunting him. Without even knowing it she was driving him to the brink of insanity.
“I’ll be as bloody barmy as Dru soon if this keeps up,” he groaned with a self deprecating smile. “Half way round the bend already.”
The recollection of her tortured eyes as she was tossed into the truck to be taken away to the brothel stabbed at him with icy blades. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he wagered he could actually still feel the heat of her skin warming him like a cozy blanket. Such sweet torture, especially when she was out of reach.
Through it all he just wanted to purge her from his mind but he couldn’t. It was like she was a beacon for his thoughts and he couldn’t turn away from her. He could even still smell her scent on the mattress and it was doing crazy things to his brain, relentlessly warping and twisting it until Spike was no longer sure which way was up.
Of course this was just another thing that was all Drusilla’s fault. If it wasn’t for her, he’d likely never even have met Buffy and then she wouldn’t be dominating him like an emotional poltergeist.
“Bloody women,” he swore under his breath before realizing that he didn’t have to whisper. The blond let out a tormented roar that turned into something that sounded suspiciously like a sob.
Spike swallowed down the remaining contents of his flask and realized that he needed to head down to the den for some more alcohol to drown his sorrows. He didn’t want to sober up. It was too depressing to be forced to live life without a drunken haze to filter out some of the pain.
He tossed the old flask at the wall, chuckling at the clang when it bounced off the plaster making a small dent.
“Take that, wall!” he chuckled, hysteria gripping him with its cold fingers.
When the flask hit the ground with a clink, something else caught his eyes and curtailed his laughter. Spike slid off the bed and on to his knees to retrieve the small object, and stared at it in his palm. He immediately recognized the tiny gold button as having come off of Buffy’s ruined shirt the other night.
In spite of his inebriation her image flashed vividly in his brain and he couldn’t mistake the sparkly little globe.
He cradled it softly in his hand. It stirred up a strange mix of emotions within him, the dominant one being guilt. Because he did feel guilty about what he almost did to her. The girl was an innocent and she didn’t deserve to bear witness to the monster within him. Grief, torment and drunkenness meant she experienced it firsthand but now he wished he could take that back.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, love,” his sighed, holding the button in his palm. “That place’ll ruin you. I know that. But I’m too much of a ponce to stand up to my Dad. Should’ve insisted that you stay here but I’m too useless to save a woman. Couldn’t even save my own Mum, could I? She’s gone because of me too.”
He knew he should have done something more to help the girl. In his current, reflective state he realized that he hated the way his father destroyed so many lives. He’d seen it happen before but never so close up. There had always been distance between himself and the victims.
But now…
His mind wandered to the look on her face as he tried to force himself on her. She was so terrified yet courageous at the same time. Such a brave little toaster. Even with her face all red and angry she was a little beauty.
At the thought of her pretty face and tight body Spike felt the blood rushing downward. If he had his time over again he couldn’t say that he wouldn’t try to get her naked because in his heart he was a self confessed pervert. And oftentimes proud of it.
However, next time he would take the seduction slow. He definitely wouldn’t force himself on her. He’d make her crave him like she craved oxygen. Maybe he’d start out by kissing her on the mouth until she moaned and melted into his arms. Next he would move his warm, wet mouth down her body, sucking each delectable little nipple into his mouth and then…
Spike glanced down. His zipper was painfully biting into his rapidly expanding cock and Spike hissed at the uncomfortable feeling. Jerking off to Buffy wasn’t going to solve any of his problems right now.
Especially the problem where he desperately wanted to stop thinking about her.
With a sigh he heaved himself off the ground and decided he desperately needed some more alcohol.
Right the hell now.
He made his way through the hallways and into the den but stopped in his tracks when he saw a shirtless Ethan standing in front of him, rooting through the liquor cabinet.
“Da,” Spike said, surprised to see the other man in such a state of undress. He blinked and frowned. “Why are you half bloody naked?”
“Hmm? Oh I don’t know. Why would I be half naked in my own home?” Ethan retorted dryly.
Spike rolled his eyes, pushing his father to the side so he could pull a bottle of Jack Daniels out of the cabinet. “I’m going to take a guess and say you’ve been shagging some tart. She a bit of a boozehound and want you to pour that whiskey down her throat?”
Ethan smirked. If only his son really knew the truth. He doubted the boy would be standing there so calmly should it be revealed. No doubt he’d throw one of his famous William-esque tantrums that marred his childhood.
“Actually, you’re quite right. I do have a little tart up there,” Ethan told him, picking up a nice bottle of single malt. “We’ve been having a wonderful afternoon.”
“Lucky for some I suppose,” Spike mumbled, pulling the cap off the bourbon and swigging the dark liquid straight from the bottle.
“Indeed,” Ethan agreed. “And how are you coping since your woman rejected you?”
Spike winced at his father’s harsh words. He knew that Ethan wanted to sting him. The older Rayne had always derived pleasure from tormenting his son. It was one of the reasons that as soon as he hit puberty he’d forced himself to graduate from being wimpy William to being badass Spike.
“I’m coping,” Spike said quietly, swallowing another hefty gulp of whiskey. “Probably better off without her anyway.”
“I should think so,” agreed Ethan, trying to hide his smirk once again. “Why don’t you take me up on my offer of a session with one of my girls?”
“I don’t want one of your soddin’ girls, Da.”
“Oh. If you don’t want just one you could take several of them if you prefer. Although I would imagine you’re not man enough to handle that many women.” He chuckled. “If you couldn’t even keep a tart like Drusilla happy, then how would you possibly manage to satisfy a troupe of well-used whores?”
“You’re a real git sometimes,” Spike hissed out through clenched teeth. His father had always possessed a knack for voicing some of his worst fears and twisting them against him. His sexual insecurity was a huge issue for him since Drusilla’s final rejection.
“I’m a git?” Ethan gasped in mock astonishment clutching the space on his chest where his blackened heart might have been. “I’m only trying to help, son. I just don’t think you should get above your station in life.”
“Well it’s help I need like a bloody hole in the head. So you can piss off with your advice.”
“My my,” chortled Ethan. “You really do need to get your end away, my boy. Relieve all this tension, so to speak. Perhaps you could have another session with the new girl as soon as Gwen has her fully trained up. I’m sure her standards can’t be too high with a father like Hank Summers and she’s already endured you sweating and panting away on top of her, hasn’t she. Oh what’s her name? It’s escaping me! Becky? Bunny?”
“Buffy. You knew her name, Da.”
“Mmm, yes. Pretty little Buffy Summers. Such a fine addition to my stables.” Ethan preened for a moment. “Gwen told me she’s doing quite well over there.”
“Oh?” Spike asked with feigned disinterest. He didn’t want his father to know how much the girl had been haunting his thoughts during the two days since she’d left for Gwendolyn’s brothel. He’d learned a long time ago that giving Ethan any kind of ammunition to you against you was usually a fatal move. “So she’s working already?”
“Hmm?” Ethan leaned against the liquor cabinet and sighed. “No, not yet. Faith’s training her up as we speak. Gwen said our Miss Summers might take a little extra training to break her…vivacious spirit but I’m sure she’ll be a wonderful submissive in no time at all.”
“That’s brilliant,” Spike choked out, his voice strangely hoarse and strained.
“Well, I have a woman to get back to, so I must bid you cheerio for now, my boy,” Ethan said, patting his son a little too heavily on the back before striding out of the room.
Spike stared after him, finding his mind dominated by that little golden haired pixie once again and wishing he’d tried harder to keep her away from that horrible place. He was a failure as a son, a failure as a boyfriend, and now a failure as a man. Slumping down onto the couch he poured a copious amount of alcohol down his throat.
He savored the burn.
In all of her seventeen years and eleven months, Buffy Summers didn’t think she’d ever suffered through a humiliation as mortifying as this. In fact she was pretty sure it was even worse than the summer when she’d been forced to wear a cow hat as an employee of the fast food restaurant, the Doublemeat Palace.
The teenager was strapped to a bed face down and completely naked. Her wrists were bound painfully behind her back and her arms felt like they were being stretched almost to breaking point. Her legs were slightly drawn up and her ankles were similarly secured.
However, the humiliation didn’t end there. A ball gag was stuffed in her mouth so she couldn’t ‘whine her skinny little ass off’ as Faith had phrased it. That didn’t stop her trying though.
For the past two days she’d been suffering through his treatment but it didn’t seem to be getting any easier. Faith constantly told her that if she just gave in then it would feel okay. But Buffy couldn’t do that because she had a rebel’s heart and that wasn’t something that she could ever see changing.
Buffy flinched as she felt a hand run over her naked back and caress her ass cheeks raising goose-flesh on her exposed flanks. Although the actual physical sensations felt undeniably good, every time Faith touched her body Buffy felt another piece of her soul dissolve.
The wandering hand found her slippery wetness and placed feather light touches over her sex. Buffy cursed her body’s involuntary response to Faith’s bittersweet caresses. It wasn’t fair that her body should crave the connection while her mind roiled against it.
Buffy kept her eyes fixed mostly on the dark blue coverlet underneath her body. She certainly didn’t want to look at Faith, but she also didn’t want to look around the room. The walls were lined with torture toy stocked shelves. It was a disturbing sight to confront, especially when Buffy had already experienced the painful torture that those toys were meant for since her arrival here. She didn’t want to experience the other half but the teenager couldn’t help but think that cruel reality was inevitable.
Suddenly the ball gag was ripped out of her mouth and Buffy felt Faith move closer to her. The dark haired girl’s breath tickled her ear and she shuddered.
“I want you to beg me to eat you, bitch” Faith commanded her, not removing her hands from Buffy’s glistening pussy lips. “Say it, B.”
“Never,” Buffy insisted, trying to turn away.
“Ugh!” Faith growled. “Why do you gotta keeping resisting? Two fucking days and we’re no closer to making you a good little slut. You’re trussed up like a dirty whore and you act like Miss Perfect. What’s it gonna take you make you realize your place?”
“My place isn’t here!” Buffy insisted again. “We both know that.”
“You don’t know shit.” A bubble or wry laughter escaped Faith’s lips. “You think you’re so much better than me, don’t you, B? Because I’m happy to be here and you hate this place so you think it makes you a better person.”
“It does.” Buffy spit back.
“No, it just makes you a slave. I’m free because I’ve chosen this.”
“And that would make you an idiot, Faith. You’re more of a slave then I could ever be because you don’t even see just how strong your shackles are.” Buffy smirked when she heard Faith’s maddened snort. “You’re cheap and nasty. But not that’s not because you’re a whore. It’s because you’re a sellout. You really should take a look at yourself.”
Faith gaped incredulously at the bound girl. If there was any situation where delivering home truths to someone was a bad idea it was when you were trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey. She wasn’t sure if Buffy was just amazingly courageous or insanely stupid. The dark haired hooker was starting to think it was a mixture of both traits.
With an angry growl Faith pulled the whip out from where she’d tucked it under her belt and brought it down on Buffy’s already reddened bottom with a violent thwack.
“Argh!” screamed Buffy as the pain ricocheted through her lower body before radiating upward. The hurt leeched through her like liquid fire as the whip came down again and again. “Stop it! Please God, stop it!”
“No, B. You need to learn you can’t talk shit and not expect your punishment.” She grabbed a fistful of the blonde’s hair and yanked her head painfully backward. “I will break you, honey. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“I’ll find a way, F and you would too if you weren’t so fucking set on staying in this place,” panted Buffy. “You could be more than a whore but you stay here…why again?”
“I do what I gotta do. Gwen needs me. You wouldn’t get it, Miss Priss.”
“Why is Gwen so important to you?” Buffy wondered. She hadn’t had much contact with the older woman during her time at the brothel so far, but the Brit seemed severe and unfriendly with most people. She was kind of lecherous when it came to Faith though and that really made Buffy’s stomach turn. She couldn’t imagine what made Faith so unwaveringly loyal to her.
“You wouldn’t understand,” Faith repeated with a dismissive wave of her hand.
“Try me.” It wasn’t the first time Buffy had asked Faith this question since she arrived and she invariably got the same evasive response from the dark haired girl, usually coupled with a paddling or whipping.
“You really think this is the time to hear to wonderful history of Faith?”
“Maybe it’ll take my mind off of things.”
“We’re not supposed to be taking your mind off this shit,” Faith growled. “We’re supposed to be putting your mind right on it.”
“What can I say? I got a short concentration span.”
Faith frowned slightly and studied the perplexing blonde.
For so long Faith had kept her past bottled up inside. She wondered whether telling someone else might actually help, especially someone like Buffy who couldn’t exactly use it against her. At least not in the position she was currently in. If it did nothing else maybe hearing Faith’s story would help the blonde make it through her upcoming ordeals. And Faith didn’t fool herself that what was still to come would be anything less than a horrific ordeal for the younger girl.
“Okay, I’ll tell you,” Faith agreed, sitting down on the couch and rubbing her knees with her palms. “Have you ever needed someone save you from this raging shit-pile that we call the world when they didn’t need to?”
“Uh...” Buffy paused. “Not until now.”
“Didn’t think so, B. I bet you were a little princess until you ended up here. I mean look at you, you’re a regular Sandra Dee, honey.” Faith plucked a Marlboro from behind her ear and lit it on one of the chunky wax candles that were flickering on the side table.
“I’ve never been a princess,” denied Buffy. “You don’t even know me.”
“I know you, or at least girls like you.” Faith blew out several smoke rings and Buffy coughed when she felt the smoke invade her lungs. “I’ve never been like you.”
“And we’re all grateful for that,” Buffy quipped earning a glare from Faith.
“You wouldn’t understand but I didn’t have a family of my own. No one. I spent my life going from one deadbeat family to another. The brunette wasn’t even sure why she was confiding in Buffy but now she’d started she felt like a dam had burst inside of her. Those weren’t nice places, B. I had to grow up pretty quick to survive. When I was fifteen I ran away. I left Boston and with the help of a few horny truckers and a bunch of slopping blowies. I made it all the way out here.”
Buffy grimaced at the thought of exactly what Faith must have had to do to get to Los Angeles. “So where does Gwen come in to all of this?”
“Patience isn’t your strong suit, huh, B?” Faith smiled, squatting down in front of Buffy so they were at eye level. “Gwen found me on the streets hooking on my own. I was getting screwed over most nights by a bunch of dicks that thought they could take advantage of a young girl. She thought I could be an asset to this place, cleaned me up, and gave me a place to…belong.”
“She just gave you a different place to be a whore.”
Faith growled and slapped Buffy across her face. “She gave me a life.”
“Right and she’s totally not getting anything out of it.” The blonde worked her bruised jaw. “Face it, Faith. Gwen isn’t a freakin’ guardian angel! She’s just as much of a user as those men on the streets were.”
Faith surged to her feet and began to pace. She was already regretting telling Buffy about her first meeting with Gwen. She should have known that the stuck up little bitch wouldn’t understand.
“You don’t get it ‘cause you know shit about loyalty to someone that helps you out, Buffy.” Faith’s face was twisted in annoyance. “But one day somebody might just help you out and you’ll see what it means to feel something for them. Sure, it starts out as gratitude but…Oh, I can’t explain it. But if you went through it then you’d understand.”
“I’d never understand what can make you choose a life as a cheap, dirty whore, Faith.”
Faith flushed a dark red with anger at Buffy’s poignant words and prepared to hit her again but she was interrupted by a sharp tap on the door. She huffed in annoyance and tossed the whip down onto the bed. With a put upon sigh she ambled over to open the door.
“Why, Ms. Post!” Faith said flirtingly when she saw her madam standing in the hallway. “I didn’t expect you to come by.”
Gwendolyn smiled at Faith before entering the room. She pulled the young brunette into a passionate open mouthed kiss, running her hands all over the dark haired girl’s ample curves. Although Buffy couldn’t see what they were doing the repulsive sounds of smacking seemed to force themselves into her ears and she winced in disgust at the visual they conjured.
When they two women finally broke apart, Gwendolyn turned her attention to Buffy, letting one hand travel over her abused skin. “Mmm, she’s looking excellently prepared,” Gwendolyn complimented Faith. Faith beamed at the praise. “Keep this up and she’ll be ready for Saturday I’m sure.”
Faith just offered a hopeful smile to Gwen. The Bostonian was starting to worry that Buffy would never be ready. She’d pulled out every single trick from her deep bag during her sessions with Buffy and yet the younger girl was still resistant. Of course, she knew what kind of punishment Gwendolyn would wreak on her if she found out.
“Of course she’ll be ready for Saturday, maybe even before,” Faith cooed.
“Saturday?” Buffy asked curiously. “What happens on Saturday?”
“Ah, Saturday is the day you lose your virginity, my dear,” Gwendolyn dispassionately informed her. “We’re holding the auction tomorrow night and I have to tell you I already have several very interested buyers. Two of my best clients, Mr. Gorch and Mr. Balthazar, are both very eager to pay the big money for such prime meat.”
Buffy shuddered in disgust at the thought of what was going to happen. In some ways she’d already resigned herself to it but as soon as she tried to envisage it happening her mind roiled against it. Maybe Faith believed she had gotten some way with breaking her but Buffy knew it would take a hell of a lot more to truly collar Buffy Summers.
“Gonna be a big day for you, honey!” laughed Faith, fingering a paddle that she plucked from a shelf. She lightly smacked Buffy’s ass with it and laughed. Gwendolyn giggled along with her.
Buffy was the only one who wasn’t laughing. She was actually seething and impotently plotting her revenge. One day she would see them all punished. Faith, Gwen, Ethan…they would all suffer if she had anything to do with it.
“I think our Miss Summers is a little overwhelmed with what’s coming,” Gwendolyn said knowingly. “She’s afraid, aren’t you, Miss Summers?”
Buffy didn’t respond.
“Answer her bitch!” Faith commanded, bringing the paddle down heavily against the soft, plump flesh of her right ass cheek. Buffy tensed as she felt it connect with her flesh and blinked back a pained tear.
“I’m not afraid!” she said, sniffling a little and feeling even more pathetic than ever.
“Want me to beat her until she admits it?” Faith asked her madam with a raised eyebrow but Gwendolyn merely shook her head. “No, I think she’s had enough for today.”
Faith pouted. “But I was looking forward to it!”
“I know my dear, darling Faith. But you will get your chance again tomorrow. We don’t want to scar the merchandize too badly now, do we?” Faith shook her head drawing an indulgent smile from Gwendolyn and a scoff from Buffy. “Now untie her and come to my room. Mummy needs some love from her Faithy.”
Gwendolyn marched out leaving Faith to obey her orders. The brunette was tempted to give Buffy just one more spanking for the day but she supposed Gwen was right. The blonde was already turning strange shades of black and blue in several places and any girl would be worth less if she was a wreck, even a pretty virgin like Buffy.
With gentleness that belied her sadistic nature, she freed Buffy from the ropes that bound her and helped the younger girl to sit up. The blonde experimentally massaged her joints, feeling tingles replace the numb sensation.
Before opening the door Faith snapped the whip one more time making sure the end cut deeply into Buffy’s sensitive ass. “Don’t miss me too bad, B. I’ll be back later for more fun with Faithy and Buffy.” She flashed a smile at the other girl before leaving the room and slamming the door behind her. A key turned heavily in the lock before retreating footsteps echoed down the hallway.
Buffy rubbed her sore ass, feeling blood congealing on her hand as she touched the delicate skin. She stared at her blood covered hand for several moments contemplating everything that had happened in the past week. Was it really only a week since her life had changed so completely? She could barely even remember the time before now. It was like a different girl that had been a carefree high school student.
Her life hadn’t exactly been perfect before. In fact, it hadn’t been even close to fantastic since she lost her mother. But she’d thought her father loved and she’d always truly believed he’d be there for her when she needed him.
Knowing that he was the one who was responsible for putting her in this hell burned more deeply than any of the vicious tortures that were being inflicted on her.
For a split second she wanted to burst into tears until she realized she couldn’t cry. It was like the tears had dried up and been replaced with a numbness.
Every time she thought things couldn’t get any worse, they actually got a hell of a lot worse. Knowing that Gwendolyn was auctioning off her virginity was possibly the last thing she could deal with. In less than three days she would become a fully fledged whore. The teenager would have to give her innocence to someone that didn’t deserve it, someone that she didn’t even love. The thoughts of how brutal this man would potentially be sent a shudder through her.
With a weary sigh she curled up on the bed, tucking her knees under her chin and prayed for the release of a sleep that was barely able to save her from the harsh reality of her life.