Page 3 of Ensnared

“Image is everything, so not only is looking your finest important, but so is your behavior. If I can’t get you sold, I will give you to someone a lot worse than me, and trust me when I say you will not survive it, because you absolutely won’t.” Okay, that catches my attention; my head snaps in his direction, and I see that he’s looking at me as if he’s trying to decipher my thoughts. I gulp, nodding a quick ‘yes’ to him, to show I understand. He nods back, then stops us in our tracks. I look up at the small wooden home on wheels standing in front of me. In red-painted letters, it says ‘Property of the Colony Carnivale,’ and below it, there’s a message written in a hurried handwriting, ‘I am no one’s property,’ in a liquid that looks more like actual blood, than it does paint.

The small door opens, and a woman with very messy blonde hair stands in the doorway. She has two colors of eye shadow; one eye is red, and the other yellow, and the tips of her hair are done in the same colors. She’s wearing a red corset with yellow paint spots dripped over it, and her huge breasts are almost spilling out of the top. She follows my line of sight, then scoffs.

“Like what ya see, darlin’?” She laughs, “Ya sure this one swings for the right team for ur sellers, Xander?” She leans one arm against the doorframe and blows a bubble with the gum she’s chewing.

Xander? Is that his name? Master–Xander– scoffs and throws his hand in the air.

“I don’t give a shit who she swings for, the men just need a pretty face and a tight pussy.” He spits out, then walks away, leaving me alone with the woman. This whole thing is making me uncomfortable, but at least I feel thankful they have given me a little mercy by leaving me with a woman. She snorts and pulls me inside, closing the door behind us.

“Alright darlin’, I’ve got a pretty blue dress for ya to contrast with your eyes, and some pearls like Xander wanted me to get ya.” She grabs my arm and pushes me down into a small wooden chair in front of a huge mirror, where there are big lightbulbs surrounding the mirror shining so bright. I wonder how she doesn’t get a migraine from them. The room, well, maybe it’s her home? Whatever it is looks messy and unkept, yet also seems alive too. The red-striped paint is peeling off the wall, and there are clothes and jewels all over the place; there’s a small, unmade bed with a huge closet that seems to be overflowing with clothes spilling out from underneath and between the closet doors. This is the kind of room my father would have an aneurysm from.

“So, love, what are ya?” She asks, as she grabs a plastic inflatable, and starts pumping it up. I frown at her, not understanding what she’s saying or doing.

“I mean, you like tits or dick?” My eyes widen at her question. Why would she be asking me this? I’ve never thought about relationships; the men around me usually made me feel like I needed to be controlled rather than loved. And I mean, yes, I think women look better than men, but who doesn’t?

“Don’t panic love, nothing wrong with what ya like. Heck, if I could pick women over men I’d do it in a heartbeat. But alas, it seems I am doomed to fall for those bastards.” She’s now mumbling to herself about some Jason guy, who apparently never even let her come, and smells like a tanking station, all while pumping up what seems to be an inflatable bathtub. Am I supposed to get in there? I really don’t want her to see me naked!

“Ah! Finally! I told Xander to get me the fucking electric pump if he wants me to not fucking die of a heart attack pumping this bish, but no, Astra needed a new oven for her stupid cookies.” I stay quiet, not knowing what to say, or even know who she is, and just let her rant it out. Maybe she’ll like me enough to let me go. Though, it seems very unlikely, but I could still try.

The woman walks over to her door, and opens it, grabbing one of the buckets set there, and starts pouring it into the blown up tub. I look out the door opening, checking to see if I could make a run for it, but there are two men standing at the doorway, probably to make sure I don’t run. I look back at the woman as she pours the contents of the bucket into the tub, then she walks out for the next bucket, filling the tub with the rest of them. Once the last bucket is poured, she sets the empty bucket back outside and closes the door again, only she locks the door this time.

“To make sure no one's bothering darlin’.” She smiles a toothy smile at me, then nods her head at the tub. “Go on now, boss doesn’t like to wait,” she states. I hesitate, but her smile falters, making her seem a lot scarier than she had before. I grab for my zipper on the back of my dress and try to pull it down, but I start to struggle. She sees me and walks over, placing her cold, slender fingers on my back, and pulls the zipper down. The dress pools at my feet on the floor, and I rush to cover my breasts with my arms, while my body starts shaking.

“Go on,” she says again, her tone inpatient, as she stands behind me. I can feel her staring at me as I walk over to get inside the tub. The ice-cold water makes my breath hitch when I step into the water, and I try to push through the burning cold.

“Oh, sorry bout’ that, we don’t exactly have the time to heat it up. It's good for ya’ blood anyways.” She mumbles out, then grabs a bar of soap, and walks to me. She starts to scrub my skin so violently that it starts burning, and I whine from the pain mixed with the ice-cold water.

“It’s not that bad. Stop being a baby.” She scoffs at me while she finishes her scrubbing. When she’s done, I try to release the breath I’ve been holding, but my breath comes out in small puffs from the cold water. She walks away, grabs a bottle that was laying on her bed, and walks back over to me.

“Shampoo,” she shrugs, opens the lid, and pours some into her hands. “Ya need to take a dive under the water so ya hairs wet, love.” I nod at her, then hold my breath while closing my eyes and dive under the water, making sure all of my hair is soaked, then I rise back out of the water. When she starts to shampoo my hair, she roughly massages it into my scalp, and her long nails scratch my skin. She finishes rubbing it into my hair, then grabs a bowl, fills it with the bathwater, and pours it over my hair.

Well, this isn’t really logical since the water is dirty, but she seems like someone who wouldn’t like being told that, so I keep my mouth shut and just let her pour the dirty bathwater over my head.

“Perfect! Now get out! We have no time to waste!” She quickly says. I stand up, relieved that this whole experience is finally over, and step out of the tub, accepting the towel she holds out to me. She grabs a blue dress, and places it over the back of the chair, then walks over to her makeup box, and starts pulling all kinds of things out. I quickly dry off, thankful she’s not staring at me, as I pull the new dress on. The zipper on the dress is low on the back, so I look at her and see she’s still busy, and I clear my throat to get her attention. She stops what she’s doing and turns to me with an eyebrow raised.

“Uhm-m-my dress, I can’t zip it.” I stutter out. She walks over to me and twirls her finger in a sign to turn around.

“Alright, darlin’, all zipped up! Sit in the chair now, will ya.” She impatiently demands. I do as she says, letting her put the makeup on my face. Whatever she's putting on my face makes my skin itch, and it feels like it has layers and layers on it. All I want to do is scratch all of it off my face. She stays focused, grabbing some blush and dousing her brush in it so much that the powder starts to fly around the room, causing me to cough. She taps the brush with the side of her hand to shake some powder off, then brings it to brush against my cheekbones.

“You are one pretty thing. I’m sure we will get a good price out of ya,” she mumbles, grabbing the eyeliner and carefully drawing it on my eyelids.

“What if I don’t?” I ask her nervously. She scoffs and sets the eyeliner down on her desk.

“You don’t want to know, darlin', best to just get along with it. You might even find yerself enjoyin’ it.” She says, lifting her head up. I don’t answer her, because I know I won’t be the one agreeing with her. She takes my silence as acceptance of her answer, then she grabs some glitter and starts to dab it gently with her pointer finger, patting it on my cheekbones and the tip of my nose.

“All done! Ain’t ya looking like a gem now?” She says while grinning, seeming very proud of her work. I turn to the mirror, and look back at someone I don’t recognize. My skin is shining like the stars, and the way she drew the white eyeliner underneath my waterline, makes my eyes look bigger. I look more innocent, yet shiny, as if she wanted me to catch the attention of whoever is supposed to see me, but in a sweet way. I hate it, but there’s also a part of me that doesn't. She wasn’t wrong when she said I look pretty. But it doesn’t feel like me; it feels fake.

“Now, for the final touch,” she said, grabbing the pearls. She moves closer to me and puts the necklace, earrings, and bracelet on my body. Afterward, she takes some small pearl hair clips and adds them to my hair.

“Hmm, yes, perfect!” She mutters. “SHE DONE!” The woman suddenly shouts, causing me to flinch. Two men open the door, walk inside, and look me over. One of them grabs the bulge in his pants and starts to rub it, as he smiles at me.

“Are ya done sod? This woman ain't yours to enjoy, now take ‘er to the place will ya.” She scoffs at the men. The man looks annoyed at her, but doesn’t say anything and just grabs my bicep, lifting me up in one swift movement, and drags me out of the trailer. I almost lose my footing on one of the steps, but his grip is so tight it holds me up.

“Watch where you’re walking, girl!” He snaps, dragging me forward, pulling me back to where I was before getting dolled up. Is he taking me back to that prison cell they had me in earlier? Worry starts to gnaw at me. I really don’t want to go back there; it’s dark and cold, and I won’t be able to sit anywhere without getting the dress dirty. Right as I think he’s about to walk me back inside, he pulls me into the tent next to it. The other man walking with us locks the tent behind us, and the one holding my arm pushes me forward. I look at them, and notice they seem very similar to each other. They both have the same sturdy nose, black hair, and dark brown eyes, almost black-looking. They are also the same height; only one of them has slightly more stubble on their jaw than the other. They must be brothers.

“Don’t have much time, love. Be a good girl and lift up the skirt.” One of them says, removing the belt from his pants. Nausea and fear fills me, and I take a step backward. The other starts to laugh, doing the same as who I assume is his brother. “Come now, don’t be shy. Not like we’ll be the only ones you’ll be pleasing,” he says. I swallow, trying to keep my panic in check. Before I know it, they both move forward, pinning me down against a desk I hadn’t noticed at first, lifting up my dress. I think I’m going to be sick. One of them holds a knife against my throat, the sharp metal touching the bottom of my chin.

“Please don’t!” I say, a tear leaking down my cheek.