His hand stays gripping my upper arm as he leads me around the table, heads swiveling to follow our path as Harry takes me to a door at the back of the room. I hear a few whistles, catcalls, and disappointed groans that I’m leaving, but I’m too dizzy and shocked to retain much of it. I feel like I have some kind of emotional whiplash from what just happened, having resigned and readied myself to be debased and used only to have it interrupted.
The room he brings me to is mostly bare except for a desk and chairs and some crates, lit by a single bulb. Harry turns me sharply, yanking down the zipper at the back of my dress. I gasp as he undresses me perfunctorily, without touching me other than the hand holding me still and the one stripping away my clothes. My bra is off, and my panties are yanked down before I can really adjust to what’s happening. Before I know it, I’m standing naked in the middle of the room, fully exposed to a man for the first time, shivering.
Harry lets go of me, seemingly realizing I’m too stunned to run anyway. He circles me, pinching the nonexistent fat at my waist, hips, and thighs, hard enough to leave a bruise. He cups my small breasts in his hands, tweaking my nipples, the sensation strange and sickening me. “Perfect,” he mutters. “Other than this.” He brushes the curls of my pubic hair with his fingers, patting the front of my pussy in a way that makes my face flame. “This has to go, but that’s easy enough. You’re exquisite. Perfect for what I need, and you’ll more than pay off the debt that your father—and now your brother—owes. I just need a little more proof.”
He walks over to the door and opens it, sticking his head out. “Rufus! I need you.”
A ginger-haired man in jeans and a shirt with the sleeves rolled up enters a moment later, hair slicked back away from his face. “What you need, Harry?”
Harry glances at me. “Rufus here used to be a doctor, until he got himself in some trouble. Now he keeps my guys patched up and performs some special services now and again.” He reaches for my arm again, guiding me towards the desk. “Hop up here, little lady. Rufus is going to give you a quick examination.”
The room swims around me as the blood rushes to my face, my cheeks flaming and tears pricking my eyes. I feel more ashamed and humiliated than I could have imagined. Servicing the men outside would have been better than this, but there’s no way out now.In for a penny, in for a pound,I repeat to myself as I sit on the edge of the desk, blinking back tears as I spread my legs per Harry’s instructions.
“She claims she’s a virgin,” Harry says. “Check to see if she’s lying and her general health as well.”
Rufus approaches me, his breath hot against my skin as he pulls my eyelids up, examining my eyes, and opens my mouth to look at my teeth. He takes his time inspecting every inch of my bare skin, palming my breasts, and I can see him stiffening in his pants as he kneels between my legs, his fingers spreading me roughly. My only consolation is that I’m fairly certain Harry has no intention of giving me to him.
“There’s nothing here to prove it, no kind of barrier,” Rufus grunts. “But she’s tight as shit. No signs of penetration, disease, or anything like that. I think it’s safe to say she’s telling the truth. Lots of virgins don’t have any kind of physical sign any longer.”
Harry grunts. “You’d stake your life on it?”
There’s a hint of alarm in Rufus’s eyes, and he glances up at me. “I am, I swear,” I insist, looking directly at Harry. “I’ve never done anything other than a couple kisses. I wouldn’t have come here tonight if I didn’t think I could back it up.”
Harry grunts. “Alright.” He motions for Rufus to get up. “Hands off the merchandise.”
The look of disappointment on Rufus’ face turns my stomach, but he obeys, standing and moving away from me. His gaze rakes over me, lingering hungrily between my thighs, and I swallow back another wave of nausea.I’m going to have to get used to being looked at like this, like a piece of meat,I remind myself, but the truth is that I’m not entirely surewhatI’m going to have to get used to any longer. Harry seems to have different ideas about what to do with me than I’d imagined, and I feel entirely thrown off course.
But there’s no going back now.
“You can get up,” Harry says curtly. “Rufus, get her ready to go.”
“I–” I start to protest, worried that I’ll be left alone with Rufus, his wandering eyes and creeping hands, but Harry silences me with a look.
“First lesson,” he says sharply. “You speak when spoken to, girl. Not otherwise. Where you’re going, your mouth will have other uses, and backtalk will only make things more difficult for you.”
Where I’m going?His curt delivery ofgirlchills me, too. A moment ago, it waslittle lady,orlove,still demeaning but with an edge of courtesy. I hadn’t thought such nuances could matter, but now I see that they do, very much. I can feel my change in status, just by the way he speaks to me.
I start to reach for my dress on the floor, but Rufus’ long-fingered hand suddenly grabs my arm. I feel a pinch and yelp, thinking it’s his fingers and that he’s handling me too roughly. But when I look down, I see a thin needle being drawn from the crook of my elbow, whatever was inside already dispensed.
A thin whimper of frightened protest slips from between my lips, but it’s too late. The room starts to go hazy, and just as my knees begin to buckle, it all goes dark.
4
NOELLE
Iwake up in a daze, with no real sense of how much time has passed. My eyelids feel stiff and sticky as I open them, my head vaguely aching, as if my teeth have been clenched for too long.
A series of disjointed memories rush back as I struggle to come fully back to consciousness—memories of waking up briefly in various places…a strange hotel, an airplane, a car, another plane, of being fed and given water, of unfamiliar faces and voices all around me, strange hands touching me. All of it is blurry and unclear, indistinguishable from a dream or reality, leaving me feeling shaky and unsettled before I’m even fully awake.
The sunlight is clear and rich when I open my eyes, blinking to clear the haze. It’s coming through an open doorway, the glass and wood-edged door pulled back, gauzy white curtains blowing in a breeze too fresh-smelling to be London.
I’m in a bed, but it’s not my own. It’s remarkably comfortable, the mattress firm and the pillows downy, the sheets crisp and cool against my skin. It’s all white, a cocoon of it, including the featherlight, warm comforter I’m underneath.
I realize, with a start, that I’m still naked. Horror floods me as I wonder if I’ve been naked for every part of the journey from Harry’s back room to here, whereverhereis, if the blue taffeta party dress is crumpled in a bin somewhere. Tears prick at the corner of my eyes at the thought, and I force it away. If I think of that now, of picking the dress out with my mother, if I think of Georgie, ofanyof it, I’ll dissolve. And I have to be strong for long enough to figure out what’s happening.
The room I’m in isn’t one I’ve ever seen before, either. The floors are gleaming honeyed wood, the furniture darker to match the bedframe, all of it square-edged and sharp. There’s a pattered screen in one corner of the room with art in a distinctly Asian style, and I can hear the sound of birds and rippling water outside. Wherever I am, it’s not close to home.
That brings the near-panic and pricking of tears again. I don’t know where they took me or what’s planned for me, but this is so far away from the planI’dhad that I don’t know how to even begin to process it. I’d prepared myself to service those men in that foul room, to come back for as many nights as necessary to pay off my father’s debt to Harry. Still, I hadneverprepared myself to not go home after. I’d even imagined what I would do, how I would quickly slip into the flat and shower away the scents of smoke and sweat and sex as quickly as possible, molding my expression into one of casual carelessness when Georgie asked where I’d been, the lies that would come out of my mouth.I’ve taken up waitressing at one of the establishments our father’s debtor owns. Some extra late-night shifts. Nothing to worry about, but I won’t be home as much for a while. Just until it’s all paid off. They shouldn’t bother you anymore. No, of course, it’s not your fault. It’s nothing, I promise.