Sex slave: Essy

Essy steps inside, still soft around the edges. She has no idea what waits behind the black curtain. Lil Bitch sits on the bench in a tidy schoolgirl uniform, legs crossed, book in hand. A pretty little trap. The moment the door clicks shut, Lil Bitch stands. The book hits the floor. She peels a strip of cellophane from the roll and presses it smooth across Essy’s mouth and nose. Air stops. Essy’s eyes flare wide. Her chest jerks, searching. The sound of her own lungs trying to pull nothing fills the quiet room. That helpless gasp hits Lil Bitch like a drug. She drops the plastic, reaches behind her hair, and pulls the long silver pin free. Its point finds the tight peak of Essy’s left nipple first, then the right, tracing slow circles without breaking skin. Essy trembles. Lil Bitch smiles, breath short with hunger. Somewhere above them the ceiling fan hums and a handful of colored paper flutters down, catching in Essy’s lashes like a mocking snowfall. Essy blinks through the blur, nipples stinging, lungs burning, while Lil Bitch watches every flicker of fear like it belongs to her.