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yet.” Trent shook the ice in his glass.
    “Why not?”
    “Because she’s mine.”
    “I want her.”
    “You can have her after I have used her.”
    “Fuck, you get all the good ones. What if I don’t want your leftovers?”
    “I have more money than you, Marcus.”
    “That’s true.”
    The man walked around to the side of the platform and pushed his foot on my back. He pushed until I collapsed. The man laughed again.
    “Get up, idiot.”
    I got back onto my hands and knees. The man pushed on my back again. I collapsed. I got back up. The man and I did this ten times and each time he laughed.
    “I’m bored,” he said again. “Idiot slave. Where’s the cane? I want to whack her ass.”
    “On the wall Marcus,” said Trent.
    “Righto.”
    A few seconds later, the man swished the cane through the air and then cracked it on my ass. I didn’t scream. I didn’t yell. I bit my lower lip and took it. The man hit me several times. He then yanked my head up by my hair.
    “You’re not crying. You want some more slave? Hmmm. You’re very pretty. Very pretty girl. I like your ass. It’s all red now. Such a sweet girl. I really want you. I want you for my own.”
    “No,” said Trent.
    “I’ll get you. When he’s done with you, and he will eventually be done with you, I’ll get you and make you mine. My sweet idiot slave.”
    “Did you fall in love, Marcus?” It was one of the other men.
    “I know special when I see it.”
    “Sounds like love,” said Trent.
    “Fuck love. I want something harder and more exciting. I want this bitch as my slave.” The man let go of my hair and my head flopped down.
    “Well, since you want her so much I think I’m going to mark her.” It was one of the men. I heard his feet shuffle.
    “Sit up, and hold out your arm,” he said. I did as told and kept my eyes down. I was being careful not to make eye contact. The man cut me with a scalpel. It felt like a paper cut. It wasn’t deep but the blood formed a river down my arm.
    “She licks blood.” Trent puffed on a cigar.
    The man holding the scalpel walked away, threw the knife on a table and sat back down.
    “Lick the blood,” said the man, the man who wanted me, my tormenter. I did as told. “Fuck, that’s hot.” He reached down and squeezed my breasts and nipples. He yanked on them like he was milking them. He pulled too tightly on one and I yelped. This made him more excited though. He got the cane again.
    “Back on your hands and knees.”
    He whacked me again and again and demanded to know if I liked it. “Yes, I love it.”
    Again and again, the cane swished. At some point, I collapsed and was breathing heavy and groaning. Sister Light came in and gave me a robe. Trent wrapped it tight around me and put his arm around me.
    “You did good, Carice. You did good.”
    I looked back at the men. One had nodded off and one was huffing on his cigar. One man was standing, watching me. His eyes were bright and his handsome face looked both amused and lustful. I glanced down and saw the leather shoes he made me lick.
    I served no one, but Trent for two months. There were no more group parties. Trent tied me up, beat me and penetrated me with the zeal of an owner testing out a new toy. Trent moved me from Queens and put me in an apartment near Times Square. He never came there. I only saw him at the Pit.
    After a month in my new apartment, I got a note in the mail on thick blue paper. It read:
     
    Your appearance is requested at The Darkest Pit on September 10th. Wear white. Make yourself beautiful. You will be meeting my other slaves.
     
                  I set the note down. I felt a sinking feeling. I didn’t know he had other slaves. I thought I was it. His lump of dismal rock that he turned into a diamond.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

Dresden
     
     
                  I busted balls as a child. I grew up in North Hollywood, in a