The Slave Who Sold Herself (Book 1)

The handcuffs hurt.

That was all Colleen could think of right then. Not the fact that she was naked, in a hotel room with a strange man, or that this slobbering middle-aged, overweight bastard with bad breath was fucking her and putting too damned much of his weight on her. Her weight plus his pushed the steel handcuffs hard into her back, tightened them around her slender wrists to the point where she felt like they were being crushed, not to mention hurting a lot.

Huffing and puffing, the grossly overweight man took a long time before he was satisfied, grunting loudly as he finally did it. Colleen could feel it, and she was sickened by the thought of it. Have to make sure – absolutely sure – that I take the pill every day, she thought. Would hate to get pregnant by this slob.

When he finally rolled off her, she almost cried out in joy that the ordeal was over. Well, most of it. She rolled onto her side to get the handcuffs out of her back. But they had tightened down so much that she felt her hands going numb. Why she ever let this kinky bastard do his thing with her body, she never knew.

Actually, she knew. Letting a customer get kinky meant extra money to her. Letting this guy lock those handcuffs on her wrists before screwing her got her an extra twenty. But the pain was not really worth it. She should have asked for more, but, being new at this profession, she did not really know what the going rates were nor how to “work” a john.

She rolled her legs off the bed and sat up, her back to her customer, waiting for him to unlock those handcuffs. They hurt. She wanted them off. And she wanted to get to the bathroom and into the shower so she could cleanse herself of his filth. Even his hands had a greasy feeling when he pawed her over.

She heard him zip up his pants and looked over her shoulder. He was sliding his fat feet into his shoes and not showing any sign of being about to unlock her wrists.

“Please unlock my wrists,” she asked as politely as she could force herself to. “They hurt.”

“Of course they do. You got paid extra for that,” he told her, grinning stupidly as he did. Then he brightened up. “Which reminds me…”

His dressing finished now, he walked over to the dresser where her purse lay on the top. She watched disbelievingly as he reached in and pulled out the money he had paid her when they got into that cheap hotel room. Smiling, he stuffed it into his pocket and headed for the door.

Colleen cried out, “Hey! You can’t do that!”

“Can and did,” was his sardonic reply.

“Hey! Don’t leave me like this!”

He paused with one hand on the open door. “Okay, you were a good fuck. Here. You can keep the handcuffs. I got plenty more.”

Colleen looked at the small silvery key he tossed on the bed, then up to where he had been standing. He was gone, and the door was wide open. Hurriedly, she rose to her feet and rushed over to close the door, fearing that someone might walk by and see her both naked and helpless.

The next fifteen minutes were hell for the pretty young woman. Sitting on the bed, she picked up the key with numb fingers and tried to insert it into the tiny hole on one cuff. She had never been handcuffed before and had not really noticed where the keyhole was. Just finding the hole was a problem. Finally, she stood up and walked to the dresser. Turning her back, she tried to look over her shoulder to see the reflection of her hands in the mirror. The dark tint to her hands went along with the numb feeling. Stretching her hands as far as she could to one side, she just managed to see the hole on her left wrist. Being left handed and having to use numb fingers of her right hand, made for slow, painful progress, all the while fearing that she would drop the key or, worse, break it off in the lock.

Finally she heard a tiny click and the cuff split in half, freeing that hand from its tight grip. She was weeping as she brought her hands around to the front and tried to work the lock of the other cuff. Her free hand was pins and needling as the circulation returned. A minute later, the other cuff snapped open and she threw the handcuffs onto the floor.

Crying, disgusted with herself, and ashamed at what she had become, Colleen made her way to the bathroom and turned on the shower. She spent a long time flushing out the results of her whoring and trying to flush away the shame.

When the water turned cold, she finally came out, wrapped a too-small, worn towel around her and leaned on the dresser to look at herself in the mirror.

Colleen Wilson, aged 21, rather pretty in a cheerleader, wholesome girl-next-door way, with a fine, firm body. Once she was proud of that good figure, her long golden hair, those lively, intense blue eyes, the full and firm breasts, that slender waist and long, shapely legs. But now she only felt shame that she was trading her most precious possession for a few dollars. It made her sick as she remembered that she had not even gotten the money for this night’s horrid mistreatment.

She dressed slowly, putting on the short, very tight dress that she had picked up at a thrift store, slipped those high heels on her feet and picked up her purse. She had not bothered with underwear. It seemed a good idea to make the customers think she was such a slut that she would forgo undergarments in her eagerness to get to the sex. Before leaving the room, she looked back at the crumpled bedspread, the wet stains and the handcuffs lying on the threadbare carpet.

Not knowing why she did it, she picked up the handcuffs and tiny key and dropped them into her purse. Might as well get something out of this, she thought. Or maybe it was that she wanted a reminder of her mistakes that night.

Walking out of the hotel lobby, she ignored the lecherous grin of the desk clerk, and made her way onto the city street outside. Standing there in the drizzling rain, she briefly wondered if she should go back to that bar and try to pick up another john. Then she rejected the idea and walked slowly to where she had parked her car to drive back to her lonely apartment and cry herself to sleep.