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“Okay, great. Let’s go,” I say as they all line up toward the stairs leading to the aboveground exit.
I take the underground exit and show up before them. I park my car in the shadows and light up my pipe again as I watch in excitement as the pimps are led out onto the streets. They don’t know when I’ll appear and with the recruits who brought them to the streets gone, they’re under the impression that they’re not as heavily guarded. If they do suspect I’m here already because they know how the game works, they think I’m the only one watching. What they don’t know is that they’re not surrounded by ‘working girls’, they’re surrounded by yet even more of my recruits, over eighteen, dressed as working girls. This gives me just as much of an opportunity to keep my eyes on these recruits as well as the pimps.
As I pull on my pipe, I think to myself how it’s no longer fitting to call them pimps for that would imply that they’ve got prostitutes working for them but they don’t. Now, they’re working for me. So it’s only fit that I call them something else. Something more fitting. I start to think of other names for them like, pimpsqueaks or prostipimps and that kills me. I start dying of laughter in my car with no one else to enjoy my humor but myself and I’m fine with that because I’m snorting so hard, tears are pouring from my eyes. Pimpsqueaks. Prostipimps. Frostedpimps? That’s what I’ll call them. Okay, maybe not Frosted pimps, I gag. Frosted Pimps makes them sound like some kind of sweet cereal and they’re not fit for consumption, nor is there anything remotely sweet about them. Prostipimps sounded like Frosted Pimps to me but that’s as far as its relevance goes.
I watch them acting just as I thought they would. They’re shifty as if weighing the pros and cons of every move. They don’t rush toward potential clients, in fact a lot of them aren’t approaching potential clients at all but they’re also not running away. I can see their pride forcing them to act as if they’re not working the streets but are instead just hanging out there while I can see their fear making half assed attempts to approach people because they know they have that fucking quota to meet.
Aw, poor little pimpsqueaks. I’m glad I ain’t doing that shit again. I place my hand over my heart in a fake attempt to sympathize with them before laughing and coughing from the meth smoke hitching a ride down the wrong side of my lung. Unlucky for them, I’ve informed my recruits beforehand to direct customers to them and I watch my girls approach cars and watch as those same cars approach the sorry fuckers. They aren’t getting off the hook this easy. After all, they’re out here to get the full experience, and that includes being fucked and getting paid for it only to hand that money over to moi.
I can’t say that I care what happens to the customers. To be honest, I don’t care one way or the other. Although for the sake of business, I’m hoping the pimpshits don’t fucking kill the clients. If they do, they’ll be punished for it, even if I couldn’t give less of a shit for the customers lives. I guess maybe if they aren’t twisted fuckers looking to have sex with kids or entitled clients who think they can get away with raping the sex workers who are of age, then they aren’t so bad after all but I wouldn’t know sitting here in this car and frankly, I don’t care enough to know. I’m only concerned with these pimpsqueaks learning their lessons while teaching the other traffickers some lessons which will hopefully impact the freedom of sex slaves.
Earning some money from it is just icing on the cake. I’ll probably use it as bonuses for my loyal recruits and spend some of it on some new clothes for these fuckers because they only came here with the clothes on their backs and since they’ll be frequenting the streets, they can’t keep wearing the same shit. I don’t want potential clients to think they’re unclean. Gotta get the fuckers tested and shit too, Selena can do that. Speaking of, what’s she up to? I haven’t been hearing from her lately, well through other recruits, sure but she hasn’t stopped by to give me reports and I haven’t spoken to her directly. Shit, I guess I really fucked up when I lost my temper the other day, huh. I mean, I apologized. I pull on my pipe once more to wipe away any guilt.
Chapter 15
Julissa
We’rebackatthefacility and I feel great. I take a seat in my office, located aboveground, reserved for moments like these. I don’t often have use for it so I don’t spend very much time here but I figure that if I’m going to conduct business, I should have an office. It has a secret underground exit slash entrance that opens up to an elevator that can take me to the various levels in the facility.
I didn’t want it to look like a fucking brothel office, painted in pink and red or various bright colors. Shit’s retraumatizing. Plus, that isn’t my vibe anyway. And I didn’t want it to look like a typical office either. Some of the girls have commented that it’s a bit masculine but who’s to say what’s masculine and what isn’t? Fucking pimpshits lined up at my door used to think exploiting people made them the ‘man’. Well I guess I’m ‘the man’ now then.
My office is painted in black, although it isn’t shadowy. The sun from the massive glass ceiling floods the room with light and as fucking hot as it can get here, I’ve always got the AC turned up high when I do come in here.
I take a seat on my luxurious black sofa, several feet away from my grand white desk and black chair. My office can hold up to ten people at a time so I give instructions to let a few pimpsqueaks in, in batches. One after one, they each confirm what I already know. They failed to meet the quota. All but one, the lucky Snow White.
As he approaches me with the three thousand dollars, I can’t say I’m not shocked. My mouth drops and I almost hate that he’s made himself stand out to me again because I’m reminded that he’s the only one that broke my barrier of abstinence. I shudder at the thought of him being any sort of special. He’s just the only one I’ll allow myself to fuck because I know he’s not worthy enough to be used for anything else but that. I guess the scrawny fucker has a way of getting other people to fuck him too. I toss the money to the side of the couch before standing up and telling him, “I’ll see you later.”
I walk out into the hallway and notice Selena standing at the end of it, avoiding eye contact with me. I harden myself as well, deciding to act as if I’m not affected by her. I instruct the recruits to take all the other pimps to the punishment room. They’ve never been to this room. I’ve had to keep things exciting, only introduce a few things at a time. Make them think they know what to expect then bang! Surprise.
The punishment room is back downstairs, underground. I use my elevator exit to arrive before them where I turn on the lights and get dressed in a splash coat, hair covering and goggles. Hanging from the ceiling are alloy steel chains which clamp at the wrists. Chains are also on the ground to chain their feet, giving me the option to either hang them from the wrists or spread them open by the arms and legs. I think I’ll shift between the two depending on my mood.
There’s enough room for all the pimps to be hung at once. They’re shoved into the room, eyes wide in horror while chains clamp shut around their wrists and they grunt as their shoulders are pulled from their sockets when they drop. They hang from the ceiling like meat, stripped naked for everyone to see. From my cart of goodies, I pull out another piece of alloy steel that’s been cut about four feet in length which I’ll be using as my whip.
“So, you thought I was playing when I told you to come back here with $3000 each, huh? I watched you tonight, you weren’t even trying. Do you like to be punished?” I ask, slapping one across the belly. “Is this what you like, fucker? Do you like to get me upset?” I throw the chain across his back with all my might. He winces and bites his bottom lip but muffles his groans as he takes the beating causing lacerations to his skin. “Ooh, you’re tough, aren’t you?” I scrunch my eyebrows up in sarcasm before grabbing a leg and deciding to use the chain on the ground, attached to a concrete pole. I repeat the same with his other leg and chain on the other side, stretching his sockets.
“You know what I’m in the mood for?” I ask, turning to look around at my recruits. “I think I’m in the mood to play some darts. I haven’t played darts in a while. Anyone want to challenge me?” I ask as I pull out a drawer on my cart and retrieve some darts. Some of the recruits volunteer and we take turns seeing how close we can get to his dick and balls without hitting them.
“Ouch!” I squeal when one of the recruits throws a dart right at it and the pin pierces his shriveled dick. “You’re really not great at darts, are you?” I laugh.
As the darts begin to pile up against the inside of both his legs, I gag and I feel this creepy crawling feeling run up and down my arms and back. I hate the sight of clusters. Bleh! There’s just something nauseating about it.
“Okay, stop!” I yell, spinning around and turning my back to the hanging pimpshit. “I think we’ve done enough of that, you can take out the darts now,” I tell my recruits, not wanting to be the one to have to walk up to his body and remove them. I rub my fingertips against my palms trying to get rid of the imagination of me touching the fucking cluster. The creepy crawling feeling has reached my face and the back of my neck now. I shiver.
As much as I had the idea to have them pelt each of these men with darts, just that visual alone means that I’d have to leave the room because there were endless darts and I couldn’t bring myself to imagine them piling up on their bodies. “Aaah,” I scream to myself, shaking my body to get those crawling feelings to disappear. I’d much rather have fun throwing a knife each at their bodies. I move on to another pimpsqueak and I reach for a fixed blade.
As I’m about to toss it toward his stomach, I hear a voice yell out from behind me, “Stop!”
I turn around to see who dares to sympathize with this fucker. When I see it’s Selena, I’m conflicted. On the one hand, I’m pissed for sure but on the other, I feel guilty for how I treated her the other day and that guilt is making me want to make things up to her. I battle with myself still holding the blade and decide, I’ll throw it anyway.
“Stop!” she yells again. “I can’t watch this. Look at what you’re doing? What’s the point of this? I’m all for capturing them and teaching them a lesson but I think we’ve been doing that. What’s the point of you hanging them here for the slaughter? Don’t you think you’re taking things a bit too far?”
I bite my lip as I turn to look at her, shaking my head and lowering my brows, “No, actually. I don’t think I am.”
She folds her arms across her chest and turns a face filled with contempt away from me. Ugh, why do I give a shit what she thinks.
“Well, if you don’t mind me saying, I don’t think this is productive. What happens if you kill them with this? How’s that going to work out for this whole repurposing of them on the streets, sending a message and all that? Who are you sending a message to here and now? Them? I’m sure being here is a well served punishment. At this point, you’re just using them as your playthings.”
I can’t figure out what her point is, because I can’t seem to find what’s wrong with that. But for the sake of fixing things with her, I guess I’ll fucking compromise. I put the knife down and it clunks on the metal layer of the cart.
