<span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;">     A dark, deep, starless night extended endlessly above the bustling downtown streets. The moonlight barely penetrated through the luminescence of the streetlamps, which generously lined the roads and gave the area a cloudy yellow overcast. Such a night made for the perfect ambient environment for excited young coeds to flock the numerous nightclubs, dive bars, and convenience stores. A constant cool spring breeze cleared the air from the pollution that the large crowd generated, and granted a fresh smell to the air despite the large gathering. College aged kids from miles around had convened to the area to find escape from their academic lives and drink and be merry without discretion. A young girl stumbled from the doors of a clamoring club to seek the busy streets. She was a beautiful girl, with long dark brunette locks (http://31.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m7bp66gQry1qim2p0o1_500.jpg), doe brown eyes (http://31.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m7txfkVCWE1qim2p0o9_1280.jpg), and a bewitching smile (http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m7tx5vNuaH1qim2p0o5_1280.jpg). Her petite form is tight and soft with youth, and was easily visible beneath her scant attire (http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m59b6rz9tf1rsz9cao1_500.jpg).<br/>    <br/>     Taylor (http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m8f0gtLWDT1qim2p0o1_1280.jpg) struggled to control her heavy, incompetent body. Every movement, every <em>breath</em> had her laboring hard. She had never once been this intoxicated before, and although she was enjoying herself just moments earlier, the poison in her gut had her begging for mercy from the sluggish, sickening feeling she was now experiencing from her careless regard for consumption. After a trip to the bathroom to heave up what she just drank down, she stumbled back into the fray, seeking to rejoin her rowdy group of friends. The club provided a dizzying barrage against the senses, and in her drunken state, it all became to much to cope with. The club was choking her, making her throat tight, causing the queasy feeling to return yet again. <em><strong>I'm going to heave soon if I don't find them. Where are they? Why would they leave when I can barely hold myself up?</strong></em> she moaned internally. <br/><br/>     Growing increasingly annoyed at the assault of noise and sights and sensations, she pushed her way through the crowd to find the doors and escape out into the street. As soon as she stepped out, a brush of cool, crisp air cleared her lungs and nose of the heavy air found within the club. The air provided a small feeling of relief, and Taylor pounced on this chance to use the new found energy to search for her group once again. She could not afford to lose them. She didn't drive here, she barely knew the town, and she couldn't call her parents or they would surely murder her. Gritting her teeth seemed to hold back the nausea, so she staggered along the sidewalk in the immediate area with the hope of locating her group. The relief soon passed, and a wave of torment rushed through her, causing sweat to bead up all over. Her tanned skin, normally so clear and unblemished gained a drunken flush, a bright red rash that showed in her cheeks and decolletage. As her temperature increased, breathing seemed to be even more inhibited. The cool breeze helped make the heat bearable, but only just so. A walk in the opposite direction revealed that she had surely lost her group, and no amount of texts or calls could reach anyone. What began as annoyance turned into anxiety. Seeking help in desperation, Taylor begged to passer-bys to help her find her friends. Naturally, the drunken girl was shrugged off.  Tears started to form as her frustration and fear increased. She dialed again, hoping to reach at least one of her friends. <strong>"Dammit! Pick UP!"</strong> she yelled out in futility. The phone rang again and again with no answer. The frustration was so great Taylor couldn't help but to throw her arms about in anger, and she triped to the ground with the loss of balance. As she sat there, her mind grew dark, the noise of the street dim. After a moment of internal recollection, she took off her heels and riose up again, using a nearby trash bin for support, fearing that if she didn't find her friends soon, she would pass out.<br/><br/>     Suddenly a large, firm hand griped her on her thin shoulder, and she spun about quickly to see who had a hold of her. A uniformed police officer had his squinted eyes firmly fixed on her face. <br/><br/>     His deep voice came out in a rush, <em><strong>"Miss, are you okay?"</strong> </em><br/><br/>     Her stomach turned, and she could feel the vomit rising yet again in her throat. It made her even sicker to hold it back, but with every ounce of energy she could muster, she forced herself to swallow hard and respond to the officer as soberly as possible. <strong>"Y-Yes, officer. I am just looking for my friends."</strong> <br/><br/>     The sweat that had formed earlier began dripping down her face and body as she used everything in her to hold herself upright, and she can tell the officer noticed. He can easily see through her charade. <em><strong>"Miss, I can smell the alcohol on you. How many drinks have you had?"</strong> </em><br/><br/>     Fearing the trouble she would be in if she answered truthfully and was arrested, she managed to put on a parody of as innocent a face as possible and lied, <strong>"Only a couple."</strong><br/><br/>     Incredulous, the officer eyed her up and down,<em> <strong>"Ma'am, I am going to ask you again, and this time you tell me the truth or you will be in worse trouble when I have you blow. How many drinks have you consumed?"</strong></em> <br/><br/>     Another wave of nausea caught her unprepared, or perhaps unable, and she could no longer hold it back. She leaned over the bin and let out the bile. One heave. Two. The sweat dripped down her face, and she tried her best to clean herself up. She felt filthier than she ever has in her life. Oh how, at this moment, she would give anything to be in bed, at home, free of the sickness that plagues her, free of the heavy, sticky grip of her intoxication. No longer able to keep up her feigned innocence, she turned to face the officer again, a genuine look of worry glazing her glittering chocolate eyes.<br/><br/>     <strong>"I'm sorry,"</strong> she gasped, <strong>"I never do this and I was with my friends and I just lost them, and I haven't had a lot to drink but I haven't ever really drank before - "</strong> she prattled on before the officer interrupted her. <br/><br/>     <em><strong>"Miss, I need your license please,"</strong></em> he requested, extending his burly hand for receipt. <br/><br/>     Shakily, she reached into her bralette and retrieved her identification for the officer. The plastic card wass doused with sweat. <br/><br/>     In one brief, trained glance the officer called her out on her deception. <em><strong>"This is a fake ID. How old are you miss?"</strong> </em><br/><br/>     Having already admitted so much this far and dying to get home regardless of the consequences, Taylor quickly decided to answer truthfully. <strong>"I'm twenty. Almost old enough, just a year away. I didn't think it would be that bad. I just wanted to go with my friends."</strong> <br/><br/>     <em><strong>"You'll have to come with me. You have committed some serious offenses. I am going to handcuff you for my own safety. "</strong></em> demanded the officer, as he took her by her slender arms and briskly cuffed her small wrists. <br/><br/>     They soon approached a black and white vehicle, a marked distinction of a police vehicle. The officer escorted her to the back and made a call out on this talkie in police code. Taylor's skull was hammering too hard in her head for her to care to decipher it. <br/><br/>     Unsure what to do or say, she asked one more thing of the officer, <strong>"Are you taking me to jail?"</strong> Her head was swimming, and she is cutting in and out of consciousness. Leisurely the officer responded in monotone, characteristic of most police force.<em> <strong>"Yes. You need to be taken in and processed, and then we will call your friends or parents or whoever and have them retrieve you from the facility."</strong> </em><br/><br/>     A quiet <strong>"Okay,"</strong> was all she could muster before she collapsed in the back of the car, the darkness welcoming her and removing her consciousness.</span><br/><br/><hr/><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;">     The sounds of heavy footsteps and the clinking of equipment managed to bring Taylor out of her comatose-like state. Her head hurt so badly, a pounding that refused to relent. As sensation came back to her, she realized that she was still cuffed and lying on her back, on top of her hands which had grown numb. She apparently had not slept long enough. She was hoping to have awakened to her parents bailing her out. She opened her eyes, no easy task. They were heavy and a little swollen from her tears earlier and from lack of rest. As she peered through the slits of her lids, she realized she was in a dark room, with only a small amount of light filtering through what may be a hallway. It was hard to tell. Her body felt too leaden to move, but she managed to roll over, and found she was on a smooth concrete floor. Several other cuffed bodies lay in the same room all around her. Although her vision was still hazy, she could make out industrial corrugated metal walls, the kind featured in warehouses. This was no jail. Where was she? <br/><br/>     Suddenly, she heard the characteristic sound of light switches being flicked on and within a few moments, a ton of fluorescent overhanging lights bathed the room in bright sterile light. Her hair was wild about her, clinging to her still wet body. She witnessed a group of large men, some armed, others not, flood into the large room she and the others were stored in. As she looked about she noticed that each cuffed person was a female. All females, all handcuffed and placed about the floor, which was cold against her skin. Without word, the men hustled in, grabbing the girls closest to the door and carrying them off. The girls being taken away screamed, demanded answers. <br/><br/>    <em> <strong>"Don't make a peep! I do not want to hear any bitching. If anyone makes a noise, you will regret it."</strong></em> piped up one of the grizzly men.<br/><br/>     Someone dared to test the threat. Taylor watched in horror as the girl who screamed out was beat repeatedly and finally stung with a cattle prodder.<br/><br/>     <em><strong>"I'm not joking. No noise. From anyone."</strong></em> he barked as he swept the room with the prodder, illustrating his threat. <strong>"If I have to, I will kill you."</strong> With that final statement the men continued the work of gathering girls and tossing them over their shoulders. One by one they came and gathered the girls, but screams were no longer heard, nor demands. Only whimpers and soft cries. Taylor was streaming tears down her face, so many horrific thoughts racing through her mind. She resigned to think that this should be the day she would die. A gruff man grabbed her by her soft arms and flung her over his shoulder like a sack of produce. The impact of her tender stomach against his burly shoulder knocked the wind from her lungs. She inhaled sharply, her tears still coming. They took her from one room into a long hall, and placed her in front of a row of shower heads, all exposed. Each girl that had been carried off was still handcuffed and removed of clothing, then thrust into the water of the shower head, and roughly given a quick scrub by the man who was tending her. <br/><br/>     Taylor was slung down and pushed onto her feet. With a sharp box cutter the man grabbed at her dress and cut into it, slitting it down the front all the way through. He ripped the dress from her arms, then grabbed at her bra and cut it free to expose her flesh. All of this was done in a brisk, methodical manner, as if he had done this a long time, as if it was mundane. All Taylor could do was look about, fearful of the wrath of any of these men. Finally her panties were cut free so she could no longer by covered by anything. She leaned over, hunching up to become as small as possible. Having completed his work with her clothes he put away his blade and thrust her into the shower head. The rush of ice cold water cause her to gasp aloud and inhale sharply. Her breath became rapid, her body unable to unclench long enough to draw in a proper breath because of the water's frozen temperature. The man grabbed a nozzle next to the head, sprayed her down with a soapy solution, then rinsed her well before taking her into a large towel for a rushed dry. From there she was led in nudity to a door and pushed through. <br/><br/>     The inside of this new room was completely dark, but each time a door opened, light flooded in to expose the interior. There were two doors directly opposite each other. the room was very small, and girls were being crammed in. It was so tight in the room from the volume of bodies that Taylor had to fight to stay upright without the benefit of the balance and leverage of her arms.constantly the crowd was pushed forward as more girls were sequestered in. As more were being pushed in, other were being taken out from the opposite door. A booming voice could be heard above the din of cries coming from the girls all around her. <strong><em>"Come on! I know she is not much to look at but she can work! She is good for those tasks your more delicate labor cannot do!"</em></strong> <br/><br/>     Too deep in shock to worry about what was ahead, her mind was curiously clear. Her only thought was for survival. Her hands and arms had regained feeling, and the cuffs bit into her wrists. Her body was still damp, water beaded all over, her hair a wild wet mess about her. The room was cold and was only made colder by the the droplets of cold water still clinging to her. Her flesh began to goose pimple, and was sensitive to the touch of the other bodies crammed against hers. Fat, silent tears streamed slowly down her face as despair set in. Soon, she was upon the door, knowing that at any moment she would face the next horror. <br/><br/>     Abruptly the door swung open and more hands reached in to seize her. A large leather collar with a heavy chain affixed to it was fastened about her neck, and as men around her worked to secure it, another who held the chain spoke. <strong><em>"Don't try anything stupid. If you do, you will be killed and we will hunt down your family. Do not speak. Do not escape."</em></strong> He said factually, and his tone chilled her worse than his words. She was certain he would make good on his threat. Suddenly she felt her cuffs being loosed, and instantly her hands flew to the binding at her neck. A hard jerk was given to the chain, a violent reminder of the looming danger she faced if she tried to run. Every man in this area was armed. <br/><br/>     She was led to a makeshift stage, brightly lit with harsh industrial lights. A quick glance revealed a small audience of men looking up at her, and she quickly moved her hands to cover her private areas.  Some of the men eyeing her were sleazy looking, with gaudy jewelry over big shirts or ill-fitting, off colored suits. Others were very classy, graceful, wealthy looking men. She withdrew to the back of her surrounding, unsure what to do, unsure how to feel other than embarrassed and afraid. Her eyes fell to the floor, not wanting to face this unbelievable reality. Her head hurt so bad, and she had yet to recover from her alcohol poisoning. She wanted so bad to run, but armed men stood sentinel at each corner of the room and at each exit. This place was definitely a base for a slave trafficking cartel. She had heard news reports and docudramas on the subject, but hardly paid any mind, never once considering that she herself would be subject to such an atrocity. <br/><br/>     Her thoughts were interrupted by a large man who now held her chain, shaking it about in an excited manner. <strong><em>"We have here a nice fresh young filly! I know you all want her! Come on! I need bids!"</em></strong> he postured, as he held his hands toward Taylor. She peeked from the corner of her eye to see several hands go up. She wanted so badly to disappear that she crouched down, looking like a wild, frightened animal. Her damp hair was hanging in think strings, water still dripping from the long strands. Her eyes were glossed over with tear, and wide, and tense. Her hands sought to cover her bare flesh, but made for poor cover. She was beautiful even in her panicked state. Like a cat in a cage. <br/><br/>     In an effort to keep the bidding from slowing, the auctioneer yanked the chain, sending her to the floor. Her hands flew to her restraint and she scrambled up and gave a tug, but his grip was strong against her much smaller and weakened body. She understood that it would be ineffectual anyway. Any chance at escape was eliminated. Her hands sought again her breasts and that treasured triangle placed between her legs. <strong><em>"Come on, more bids people! She is young, she can be taught and broken. She would be a great addition to any household,"</em></strong> he probed, waving his arms up to signal more hands, but the bids were dying down. Taylor prayed this would be over soon, yet she feared so much what was left in store for her after.</span>