(OOC: This setting takes place in either a parallel reality or a country where that culture's females are more aggressive in this way. A "sistel" is a brothel for female clients.)
I never thought the world was so dangerous when I played by myself so carefreely in an open place where I felt safe. That's where I was picked up & blindfolded; placed into a minibus & driven to an unfamiliar city.
I was made to, how shall I say, "perform" for any paying female client who had me "perform together" with them.
The trafficking victims at the sistel were males of widely varying ages. I was the youngest at the time.
Surprisingly (to you, I suppose), the paying clients were widely varied ages too. The youngest clients I dealt with were also grade-school-aged; as they're expected not to have as much money, they'd do chores / cook / garden at the sistel in exchange for, well, "services."
As morally loose as that sistel's operations were, they didn't have much of an age restriction. It was a matter of whether she could pay for "the performances" or do work around the facility in exchange for them!
Some were clients I'd love repeat encounters with. Others I'd hope never to see again. It was much in how they treated me.
Sometimes looks played a part, but if I had a less-than-cute client, I'd learn to close my eyes (or get a blindfold on; some were understanding and wouldn't mind) and pretend she'd shape-shift into an awesomely attractive-looking client. That was how my tender mind could cope as I grew up as a sistel slave.
Being one of the cutest sistel slaves in the whole facility, my clients left me gifts of various sorts. My room initially resembled a kind of a dank dungeon, but my wealthier clients had it wallpapered with cutesy, uplifting designs, and renovated it in other ways. I got plenty of toys and games that would keep me happily occupied between, well, "client visits" in a manner of speaking.
These gifts were ways to escape the absence I had suffered, of a normal childhood, so I'd gratefully continue to have relationships with those generous clients as was able.
Now at 15, I'm still stuck there; still too cute to be let out. Not that I'd feel prepared to take on the real world anyway, not having the training for it as normal kids would.
I've contemplated mutilating my face and body sometimes, because uncute sistel slaves aren't great for business, and their rooms could be freed up for newer, cuter slaves. That's how I thought I'd try to get out, as I've yet to find a foolproof way to escape this existence. Then I hear that when other boys try that, they wouldn't get freed when the sistel proprietors and their enforcresses figured out they disfigured themselves on purpose, so they were sent to another fate instead. We don't know what, but I suspect something worse that'd make disfiguring themselves a regrettable action instead of a liberating one.
Besides, even if they'd let me free after I'd make my disfigurement look like an accident, I'd be shunned & find it hard to land employment because a disfigured employee isn't exactly great for business, pretty much no matter what company or line-of-work you'd work for.
Maybe someday, a regime change will enable the authorities to be less bribeable than they are now, so will shut this sistel down at long last. How long will this take? I'll never know. I may otherwise just "age out" of my attractiveness & only be let free that way!
There are highs & lows about living & "working" here (more "getting exploited" than "working," I must say.) This living would've been about all I've ever known, so the world at large would be a mean & scary unfamiliar place that I'd have yet to know how to live in! Illicit institutionalization through being made a living playtoy of pleasure sure ruins one's mental development & makes us less ready for the world-at-large than we'd have otherwise been!
Now, please AMA me.
(OOC: The mods of IAmAFiction deleted it, so I reposted here.)
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/3bnlu9/iama_kidnap_victim_that_was_snatched_up_and