Bill has just informed me that the reason I have been kidnapped is because I owe money to someone. He didn’t elaborate further. I must assume it’s one of my blackmail victims. He has handed me a box. Inside is a black lace bodysuit. It has a plunging neckline, detailed with a white crochet trim.
“The first client will be here tonight,” Bill has told me. “He is the one that likes a clean canvas. We sent him your picture and he is satisfied, despite the small scar you blamed on my colleague.”
By client he means some sadistic psycho who will get pleasure from inflicting pain on me. Oh no, please, no. Have I actually been sold into sex slavery? NO!!! Bill has also made it clear that these clients think I’m here willingly and there will be consequences if I say otherwise. It doesn’t matter. I’m not sticking around to find out. Hell no! It’s just Bill here now. If I almost escaped with two of them guarding me, my chances will be much higher now that he’s alone.
“Clean sheets. I’d like you to bring me clean sheets,” I say. He raises a quizzical brow. “You said anything for me to be comfortable,” I tell him. “For the client.”
He nods and leaves the room. He returns 10 minutes later with a fresh pair of sheets.
“Anything else?” he asks.
“No. Just a few hours of uninterrupted sleep,” I say. ”I didn’t get much of that last night.”
“I’ll wake you up when he’s on his way,” he says. “Samantha?” he turns to me when he reaches the door.
“Yes?” I ask.
“Take the drugs. It will help,” he says.
“What do you have?” I ask.
“Whatever you want. Weed. Coke. Heroin. LSD.”
“Can I think about it?” I ask.
“Ya, sure. Let me know after your nap,” Bill answers and locks the door behind me.
Drugs. Is this guy serious? He must forget what I do for a living. As a journalist, I’m well aware that the first thing sex traffickers do is try and get you addicted to some mind-altering substance. When you are an addict, you are easy to control because you will do anything for your next hit. That’s why most prostitutes are junkies. I also know that they have no intention of ever letting me go.
The UN has estimates putting the yearly value of the human trafficking industry at $32 billion dollars. That makes it the third-largest criminal industry on earth, behind guns and drugs. People who do this don’t do it because some random girl like me hustled a couple of million from someone. People do it because they are part of a multi billion-dollar criminal industry.
The biggest misconception people have about prostitution is that it’s willing buyer, willing seller. But the reality is that in most cases, someone is making that money – and it’s not the woman you are paying for sex. It’s a pimp or trafficker. Think about that the next time you pick up a prostitute on the roadside.
You are contributing to the growth of an industry where a young woman, most likely against her will and under the threat of her life, sells her body to you. That makes you the problem. Demand and supply.
Meanwhile, they know I’m pregnant. Or at least I assume they do, if they have been told as much by whoever brought me here. So what’s the plan? Have me carry to full term and put my baby into the programme, too? Did I mention that this multi billion-dollar industry makes more money off child trafficking than women? Yes, there are many sick perverts out there happy to molest children. Even babies…