Scarred

Author's Note: The following story contains graphic content concerning child and teen prostitution. Please don't read it if you're below 15 or easily offended. Despite the dark story line, however, it is important for all of us to know and realize the dark secrets of the world we live in. We shouldn't avoid something just because it's an uncomfortable subject.

My name is Laila. I'm 16 years old. While other girls are worried about what guy will ask them to the prom, I'm laying here entertaining one heartless bastard after another. My pimp gets thousands for what I do everyday, but none of that money ever touches my hands. People blame me for what I do, thinking it's my fault that their husbands and boyfriends run to me every night. I just want to be free, but I don't know what that word means. I want to be invisible, but everyone sees my body all too clearly. I want to die, but escape isn't that easy.

I remember little of my life before I was five. Maybe that's because nothing truly remarkable happened. I was a girl many would consider spoiled. I had everything from that little porcelain tea set straight from Europe to the latest styles from Chanel. My parents never failed to provide the things I needed. What they paid little attention to was me. At five years old, I didn't understand their lack of attentiveness. I became cold and angry, and by the time my father left us when I was six, my mother wanted nothing to do with me. Having no family to send me to, she sold me to an underground brothel in Southern California. Desperate for her to love me, I clung to her form fitting designer dress, pulling at her perfectly curled platinum-blonde hair, hating her when she finally detached my little fingers from her body.

Sticky with tears, my hair stubbornly clung to my face. I couldn't stop crying even when they washed my body in the cool rose water or pulled the soft fluffy pink dress around my petite frame. My sobbing only ceased when they put me in front of him. I couldn't do anything but stand and tremble in his presence. They called him Johnny. He was too awesome for even the tears to flow.

I peered at him slowly, my small white hands gripping each other tightly behind my back. I took in everything from his tailored black suit, his short dark hair and clean shaven face to the cane capped with the silver falcon gripped tightly by a large white hand. I was confused as to why he needed it. The sudden light-headed feeling I experienced reminded me to breath. A stubborn black curl separated itself from my previously perfect hair arrangement and fell forward along my artificially reddened lips. His hands felt like a rude caress as he tucked the errant strand back behind my ear. I tensed, but nothing could induce me to pull back. He both fascinated and terrorized me even as his hands found the zipper in the back of my fluffy satin rose dress. Even then, my senses failed to kick in. I covered my naked body self consciously, my now undone hair serving as a covering for my still undeveloped breasts. He laughed at my modesty, claiming I'd loose my shame after he was finished with me.

It was only after he pulled my body up onto the king-sized four-poster bed that I began to shake. I couldn't stop, even as my warm body cooled against the pale blue down covers. Pulling off his dinner jacket, he discarded it carelessly on the floor, exploring the outlines of my virginal young body even as I squirmed and whimpered in discomfort. He murmured soothingly, but this only served to confuse me since, at the same time, his breathing had quickened to sharp pants. He played with my body until my eyes drooped softly in exhaustion. They flew open in surprise at the feeling of something warm and slimy against my mouth. His lips pressed themselves to mine, forcing them open and invading the warm crevice inside my mouth. Something inside me clicked. My powerless limbs squirmed and struggled against his. Tears gathered in my previously dry eyes as he laughed, shrugging off my terror as he plunged himself into me. That was too much. My lips parted in muted pain before I blacked out entirely.

I awoke after what must have been hours, staring at the moonlight darting across the high ceiling, hardly able to comprehend what had just happened. I pulled myself up slowly, frightened at the dark red stain on the silk covers between my legs and the sudden pain shooting up my body. But I didn't cry. My tears have long since refused to show themselves. I don't know if that's a blessing or a curse.

*** Nine Years Later ***

At fifteen, I was no longer the one most coveted by Johnny, but I was the hottest product on the list when it came to outsiders. For just two-thousand dollars, someone could spend a half hour with me. That's double the price Johnny charges for the other girls, many of them older than I am. In return, he gave me anything I want. My closet, the size of a large bedroom, was stuffed with everything, whether they're things I wanted or only half laid eyes on. He wanted me to look my best every time someone walked through my door.

Today, I was sitting on the edge of my bed, my creamy white legs swinging idly, the red silk of my robe brushing softy against them. Carelessly, I let the top slip down, revealing a pale shoulder and one of my breasts pressed up against against a brocade corset. I tilted my head to one side, allowing a small smile to come across my face as a strand of my long black hair fell and caressed the skin below my chin. My eyes briefly fell on my slippered toe. Johnny didn't allow us to wear platforms. He said it looked cheap. He wanted us to look elegant and only dressed us in the finest silks and satins.

I asked him once why he cared what we looked like. We did just what every other harlot did. He got angry then, his long narrow white fingers gripping my chin, forcing my dark green eyes to look into his black ones.

"Don't you ever compare yourself to those whores. I've taught you more than they'll ever know."

Now I know he's right. There is a reason only the richest can afford me. There is a reason why you have to be an elite member of Johnny's executive group in order to spend a half hour in paradise.

I cocked my head the other way, my eyes appraising the man in front of me. Just one more and then I could use my bed as something other than a stage where my most successful sexual plays are held. My eyes wandered to the clock as I stiffled a yawn. This man had paid for an hour, but he wasn't using his time very well. I was supposed to urge him on, but didn't feel like it. I sighed, my mouth forming into a small pout. It's not all fifteen-year-olds that have to work six hours a day. Then again, few girls my age are in this type of business.

I fixed my eyes on the man -the boy- sitting on the plush leather couch a few yards away from my bed, his muscles visibly rigid with tension. He was a lot younger than the countless others who frequented my room. Did his mother know he was here? Had his daddy paid for his visit? Usually, he would have been a nice change, but by then I was past caring.

"Look mister. You're wasting my time and your money. Did you come here for sex or just to lounge in my furniture?" The look on his virginal face made me want to burst out laughing. He was obviously taken aback by my forwardness. Most people are; I can't afford to be anything else in my line of business. I don't have the time or patience to play games. Languidly, I pulled myself off the bed and eased myself into the spot next to him. I was going to have to try a different approach. The back of my hand caressed his face. I felt his muscles tense as my scarlet nails lightly grazed his cheek. I leaned over as he pulled away, my dark red robe falling to a pool by my feet. My breath warmed his icy skin as my teeth lightly teased the flesh below his chin.

"Tell me what you want...hmm." I nuzzled his neck softly. That didn't work either. "Surely someone like yourself wouldn't waste four-thousand dollars of his Daddy's money and then just sit here and do nothing." He pulled away. I saw a flicker of anger replace the unease in his eyes. Finally something had worked in erasing that dumb look on his face.

"What makes you think my father paid for this?"

I leaned back, idly twisting a wavy strand of my waist-length hair between my fingers. "I know your type." My calm façade only angered him more. "Besides you never would've gotten in here without a special word from your daddy." I lean over and begin to undo the buttons on on his white silk shirt, but my eyes remain on his the whole time. "As you know, this is an exclusive club." He remained silent, but I could hear his breath quicken as my hands reached to caress his surprisingly firm body. My voice fell near to a whisper. "I think your daddy's been up here before. I remember him because-" That evoked his anger beyond my wildest dreams.

"Stop. I came up here to forget about him." He pressed me down, clamping one wrist in each hand. His hungry mouth attacked my neck as my hair tumbled down over the edge of the black leather couch. My eyelids felt like weights, but I pasted a smile on my face for him. My scarlet lips separated as a pretended moan escaped my lips.

"I knew you'd get around to this sometime."

He mumbled something inaudible against my inner left thigh. I struggled not to flinch as he fumbled clumsily for the zipper in the back of my corset. Discretely I accommodated him, and after what seemed like hours, he pulled himself off of my exhausted body and pulled on his clothes. I sat up, ignoring the bed sheet most would use to cover themselves.

"My dad can't know I was here. I'm already supposed to be back in Cambridge after Christmas break by now."

"He won't hear it from me. Do you think I give a crap about whether you skip school or not."

He briefly appraised me, disgust filling his eyes when he realized what he'd just gotten himself into. "No. I guess not." He probably had a sweetheart somewhere, one of those good girls who didn't know what she was doing in bed. Now he'd go running back to her and his perfect family. I didn't care. I just wanted him to leave so I could sleep.

Just as I began to drift off, a knock sound on my door. I didn't bother to open my eyes."I'm already done for today. Go away."

"It's time for your walk. Get up." I recognized the voice. Mack. Johnny had hired him as my bodyguard after seeing the damage he'd done in a local bar.

"No. I've already had enough exercise today." He hated it when I talked back to him, but I was too tired to care. I remained still, even when the door slammed open and he stormed inside, his heavy black boots probably marking the marble floor. A gasp escaped my lips as he tore the sheets from over my body and yanked me out of the bed. He leaned down next to me, his breath hot and reeking of alcohol against my ear and his hand forming a red mark on my arm.

"Maybe you didn't hear me, missy. I said get the hell out of bed and get dressed." He released my arm and threw my discarded robe in my face. When I made no move to put it on, he grabbed a fistful of my hair, pulling me up to him. "Lazy whore. Move it." He slapped my face, one of his gold rings grazing my cheek, drawing blood. I started laughing. He must have thought I'd gone mad.

"Johnny'll kill you for that." I laughed again as his hands formed a clamp around my neck.

"I could wring your neck right now."

The smile refused to leave my face. "Do it." I whispered. I was surprised when his hands swiftly left my neck. His black eyes turning to pools of terror fixed on something behind me. I turned around, my insanity not yet fully gone. Johnny stood in the doorway, the calculating look on his face cruel. His tailored dinner suit fit his body perfectly. He wasn't very tall but the way he held himself made people fear and respect him. Next to me, Mack trembled. I wanted to laugh at his fearful anxiety, but the look on Johnny's face held me silent.

"Sir... I'm sorry. She wasn't following your orders and I-"

Johnny held up a hand to silence him. He motioned for him to leave. "Get out. I'll deal with you later."

Mack scampered out of the room like a scared dog. I remained where I was on the floor, my hair tumbled across my body, my face serving as calm façade for my inner turmoil. Johnny stood at the doorway for a moment, holding my gaze before confidently striding across the marble floor towards my liquor cabinet. Unlocking it, he pored some of the dark liquid into an etched crystal wine glass. He nodded towards me, holding out the glass.

"Sherry?"

I nodded hungrily as he walked over and handed me the glass. I downed it quickly, barely noticing as the expensive liquid slid past my tongue. Johnny watched me carefully.

"You're drinking too much. We'll have to put a stop to that won't we?" When I ignored him, he grasped my chin firmly, his voice rising slightly. "Won't we?"

I pulled away stubbornly. "Whatever you say." I whispered mockingly, startled when the back of his hand collided with my cheek. I winced more in surprise than in pain. Johnny was a hard man to anger. He was always careful not to hurt me, knowing that any mark would keep me out of work for a few days. He walked back to the liquor cabinet, his black shoes clicking against the white marble. I stood up, pulling the robe over my naked body, not bothering to close it. Walking over to the couch, I collapsed on it. By now, I was beyond exhaustion. The blood was still trickling down from the cut on my left cheek, but I didn't care. Johnny brushed the hair away from my wound.

"I'll have someone come in to fix that." He walked over to my closet. "There's going to be a party tonight downstairs in the casino. You will accompany me." He pulled out a dangerously short, dark red satin dress with short, off-shoulder sleeves and a corset back. "Wear this." He kissed my white shoulder before striding out. "Be ready at seven. I'll send in your maid to see to your bath."

***

Obediently I sat on the chair in front of my white vanity as my maid applied the eyeliner to both above and below my eyes. I struggled to sit still; the tight red satin of my dress was horribly confining. Looking into the mirror, I found myself wondering if I looked anything like my mother. Strange. I never thought about her. I didn't even remember anything about her, only her blonde hair. She used to spend hours brushing it. How I'd wanted to look and be just like her. Lost in my reverie, I didn't notice my maid had gone until a pair of familiar strong hands possessively encircled my small waist. Johnny's lips found the crevice in my neck, but I felt no lust there. My mouth curved into a smirk. I was too old for him.

"I thought I told you to be ready at seven."

I ignored him, pulling away. My hands toyed with a small glass vial on the counter. "Why did you pick me tonight?" I turned around, holding his gaze challengingly. "Why not one of your favorites?"

He draped an onyx necklace around my neck, the stones heavy and cool against my warm skin. "It would hardly look right with me linked arm in arm with a girl young enough to be my granddaughter. Besides, you're the most popular girl here. It would look foolish for me to show up with anyone else." Next came the pair of matching onyx earrings. I was beginning to look obscene. I must have looked ten years older than I actually was.

"Since when has public opinion bothered you?"

"Since my reputation became involved." His black eyes tore through my green ones, daring me to further question him. I thought I saw something akin to fear glint in them. "You will not say anything about what goes on here."

I smiled, shrugging softly as if considering his words. I knew that he considered his love for child molestation a dangerous liability. Although there were many in his circle who felt the same way, none took their passion to such an extreme extent. No one wanted to be caught taking advantage of girls only four and five years old. Johnny saw my hesitation and swiftly grabbed my wrists, pinning me between himself and the wall. Fear gripped my heart, but I continued to defiantly hold his gaze.

"You will not speak of this to anyone." He pressed me harder against the wall, squeezing the air from my lungs, his mouth less than an inch from my own. I could smell the liquor on his lips. "Do we understand each other?"

I nodded, hating my own weakness. His mouth curved into a seditious smile although he still made no move to release me from my current position. I felt his breath quicken as his hand curved around my left breast. I squirmed in disgust as he nuzzled my neck. He laughed at my discomfort.

"Maybe I've been missing something all these years. The men certainly speak highly of you."

I tried to quell my churning emotions as he lifted my legs around his torso. "We're going to be late. You can finish this later."

He paused as if contemplating what I'd just said. "So I can." Releasing me, he walked over to the carved double doors. "We will finish this later." He held out his hand, gripping mine possessively. I stared ahead. This is my life. It's not a fairy tale.