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I’ve never met a woman I couldn’t slap to the ground, make whimper with a show of my hand, now I’m the bitch sitting here. And what do you know, a fucking whimper escapes my lips as she moves closer to me with a fucking grin. I shut my eyes as my body starts to tremble, cursing myself for being afraid of a bitch I should be putting in her place. If I knew for certain I could kill her, I would but I’m still hoping to get the fuck out of here so I’m trying to play along.
It feels like days have passed as I wait for her to do whatever she has planned with that ax and I open my eyes when I can no longer wait to see her moving toward my dick with it! Instinct drives my hips back as I yelp in fear, begging her to not cut my fucking dick off. I can even feel little pussy tears form in my eyes but I can’t think of anything else as she moves closer and closer to it. “Don’t move, big boy. Or else you’ll be losing a limb.” She looks up at me and I start to sweat.
I’m afraid to ask questions, afraid to even breathe wrong as I look at her, helpless and waiting without hope for her to, I don’t know, stop or do it?! I think I’ve passed out even though my eyes are still open. I can’t see anything anymore. I feel the inside of my leg sting and when I look down, she’s pulling the slight edge of the blade along my skin in the most gentle glide which manages to create a superficial slit, warning me just how sharp the blade is and how much damage it could do if she pressed with a tiny bit more pressure. As blood gathers there, she presses her tongue to it, licking it up in delight and bringing her bloody tongue to my mouth. She coaxes my lips apart and forces me to drink my own blood. She hasn’t dropped the blade though and now it’s right next to my neck.
I haven’t taken notice of my now erect dick as my eyes are focused on the tomahawk and the need for her to be careful with that shit because if she drops it on my hand or she gets carried away and loses control, I could fucking die right here and now.
She impales herself on my dick, shuddering as I enter her. I feel nothing, as my eyes can’t see anything else other than the threat in front of my face. “There we go,” she moans and as she starts to get into it, her hands start flailing. I want to scream out, “For the love of all that is fucking good, can you put that shit down?!” But I know that would be a sure ticket to hell at that point so I bite down on my lips as my life flashes before my eyes, hoping that she’ll get her fucking fix sooner or later and leave my fucking cell.
She moans and instead of desire, I’m filled with desperation as she opens her eyes and moves her wobbly hand holding the blade across my chin in a quick motion as she makes her way to my chest. I send out a prayer of gratitude as I manage to move my chin and neck out of the way. She starts running the blade down that little divot in the center of my chest. My eyes follow every single movement hoping that if she does slip up or with intention, tries to hurt me even more, I can throw her off me, even if I know I’d never escape. I’d probably end up with that blade thrown in the back of my head. She does the same gentle swipe against my skin which produces more blood. She starts to play with it, wiping her hands in it. “It’s so fucking pretty,” she says to herself with sighs of wonder and moans of pleasure.
As if she’s about to reach her peak, she gasps and her wrist goes limp just as she raises the blade up, next to my face. I’m whispering and mumbling, begging for my life in silence before she drops the blade. I feel it hit the bed and I expect blood to start spurting everywhere. When I hear a crash, my eyes fly open to see that the blade bounced off the bed and onto the floor. She holds onto my shoulder, her hips picking up the speed as her moans fill the air. The only thing I can do is breathe a heavy sigh of relief, wondering if I’m about to shit myself. She digs her nails into my shoulders as she starts vibrating, contorting herself over me and sighing in exhaustion before laughing to herself and hopping off me.
“That was so fucking good!” she screams as her legs wobble. I’m frozen, wondering what’s about to come next. My eyes follow her as she picks the small ax up off the floor, wiping the blade between her index and thumb before licking the rest of my blood off her fingers. She bends over in front of me and I can see her wet and swollen pink pussy as she places the ax in her bag with care. I don’t allow myself to blink as I watch to see if she’s about to pull out another weapon. When she zips her bag up, I’m still unable to relax. I can’t make eye contact with her as she dresses herself. I can’t even breathe until she walks out of the cell.
Not until I hear the lock turn on the metal doors do I allow myself to exhale. My body slumps over and I begin to shake, trembling without any control over it. The intensity of my trembling body lasts for about a minute before I’m overcome with exhaustion. My arms move up of their own accord to hold me as I lay on my side in the bed. My mind isn’t convinced that I’m out of the danger zone and it would be right. As long as I’m here, I’ll never be safe. She can walk in when she likes and she can take what she wants. There’s fuck shit I can do about it. My entire life is now in her hands and she can decide whether I live or die at her whim. As unpredictable as she is, I don’t know when that will be. I’m beginning to wonder if my imagined escape will ever come.
I curl up in a ball, feeling cold although there is no draft, trying to convince myself that she’s gone for the day but the slightest shuffling noise tricks my mind into thinking that it’s her feet approaching my cell again. I look across to see my cell-mate who is pulling his underwear and shorts back up, wiping his hand against the wall. He gained pleasure from my pain and I feel humiliated.
I have no escape from their knowledge of my abuse and I want to scream and yell. Instead, I tuck my face in the bed in a desperate attempt to escape this hell.
Chapter 10
Jaya
I’mworkingtheearlymorning shift at the border, before the sun comes up. It’s quiet out here. It’s different from during the daytime. Cars aren’t lined up for several miles which means the true assholes have no chill when it comes to crossing at this time. They know we’re overworked or whatever so they’re relying on us being tired as fuck to pass them through with the quickness. My line is empty and I’m high-key tired as fuck but it doesn’t mean that I get to slack off on the job. So I peel my eyes open. I’m super sensitive to the smallest sounds right now because I’m desperate for action. I know I don’t have to wait long though, because it’s only a matter of time before one or a dozen of them pass through here sporadically.
On cue, I see an orange sports car pause as if in contemplation before pulling up to one of the ports. I’m dazzled by the color first, it’s lit as fuck. I keep watching it because I have nothing better to do than be nosy. I’m not going to toss my boots up and close my eyes just because I don’t have people to serve. I’m making myself busy by staring at the recruit handling the driver. They’re talking and laughing, having a kiki or whatever, nothing too interesting. Some of the recruits flirt in order to disarm drivers occasionally. Flirting with them isn’t really my thing but to each their own.
I mimic a gag to myself, imagining what they’re talking about before I notice how she starts acting shady, looking around all dodgy so my antennas are piqued and my eyes are peeled. I’ve never noticed this happening before and I don’t know if it’s a common thing to happen but with nothing to distract me, I see her make an exchange that has my heart ready to dive right out of my mouth. Maybe she thinks it’s too dark for anyone else to see but as unfortunate as it is, for her, I’ve just seen her pocketing a fuckwad of cash and I’m enraged.
I don’t waste any time on being too shocked and angry to react, I’ve got to follow that car. I lower my boom barrier with a bathroom break sign and I rush toward my ride with my tracker. As I enter her name and program the tracker to my GPS, I keep getting an error message. The little shit gave the driver of that vehicle a disabled tracker. I head to her “collection point” where her crew of recruits meant to restrain traffickers are located but I pull up just in time to see the orange car fly right past them after being checked. I can’t believe this shit! I can’t follow the vehicle because they’ll recognize my ride and they’ll know that I know what they’re all doing. What the fuck?
I slam my hand on my steering wheel as I watch the orange car drive off while I sit there wishing I got the fucking license plate number. I’m so mad, I’m tempted to fucking run them all over with my car, head back to the border and stab that bitch to death. They’re betraying this whole mission! Just when I think there’s gonna be some change, these fuckers are still willing to sell their pussy for a flashy buck or two. They’re trafficking victims, for crying out loud! They’ve been through the same shit I have, and maybe they’re not literally selling their pussies but they might as well since they’re fucking enabling traffickers to sell their victims’ pussies when we should be collecting them and putting a stop to this shit.
I turn my vehicle around, feeling this enormous responsibility to make sure that when I get back to my post, NO FUCKER WILL PASS THROUGH THE BORDER IF THEY HAVE TO PASS THROUGH ME FIRST. I don’t want to leave my station unattended for too long since it’s clear that not all these fucking recruits can be trusted. I’m shaking when I return, paranoid now about how many of them are traitors. I watch the operations now with new eyes. I look at my empty pathway and as new cars approach, most of them head into different lanes. It’s almost as if they’ve gotten news that they’ll enter the U.S with less hassle if they choose two particular lanes. Before I witnessed this, I thought that I was just having a slow night, now I’m wondering if it’s slow because when traffickers pass through my lane, they never end up at their pre-planned destination. Fuck, and here I was thinking that we’re all working toward the same goal.
An uncomfortable pain shoots through my chin and the hairs on my face start to itch me as I run my hand over it to ease the distress. As the alarms in my head start blaring, I grab my phone in order to call Julissa but decide against it since I’m so sensitive and paranoid right now, I’m afraid of anyone overhearing our conversation even if our booths are several feet apart. The rest of my shift is agonizing but I stick it out, dealing with the few cars that come my way, only a couple of unlucky fuckers sent through to my team of recruits who I start doubting as well, tempted to follow through with the cars to make sure that they’re being handled the proper way.
As soon as my shift is over, I speed over to Julissa’s house. Although there are doubts floating around my head about her as well, I know within my gut that there is no way that she’s in on this. I’ve seen her hatred for these fucking pimps. There’s no way she’d allow recruits to take money from them to give them a pass here and there. No fucking way! She’s like me in this way, we’d rather die than let that shit happen.
I bang on her door several times before she answers, coming to the door, wild-eyed. I notice that she looks different to me. I’m too worked up to do anything but express what I have on my chest so I rush past her, ignoring her fidgeting. I run into Marco, her tranquilizer dealer in the living room. He looks like a mess as well but I pay no mind to it, wanting only for him to get the fuck out of the house so that I can speak with Julissa in private.
“Can I talk to you?” I ask Julissa. “It’s urgent.” She looks at me like a deer in headlights but seems to blink her eyes back to reality, shaking her head before asking Marco to leave.
“Yeah? What is it?” she asks, pacing around her kitchen. “Do you want something to eat?” She starts rummaging in her fridge for food. I’m about to explode, I can’t keep this inside me any longer.
No, I don’t want anything to fucking eat! “We’ve got traitors in our organization!” I let out, both in an effort to spill the tea and also to get her to stop pacing so motherfucking much and listen to me.
She freezes.
“What do you mean, traitors?” She narrows her eyes at me.
“Tonight, I saw it with my own eyes. At the border, a recruit not only let a fucking trafficker through with a disabled chip but her whole fucking team’s in on it. When I couldn’t trace him, I pulled up to their collection point and they fucking let him through. I don’t think this is the first time, Julissa. I think they’ve been letting traffickers through for a while. Fuck! And I didn’t even get the fucking license plate number,” I ramble on as she walks past me and slumps down into her couch.
I mean, the fucking pacing stopped but as I wait for her response, there’s nothing. She just sits there, unmoving, staring ahead.
Confused by her actions, since I’ve never seen her like this, I continue, “We’ve got to do something. They’re going to ruin everything we’re working for. Imagine all the pimps we’ve missed? We’ve spent all this time preparing and training to make sure that we don’t leave any loose-ends, no fucking holes in our plans for these rats to slip through, only for them to manage to slither through right under our noses?!”
