Her initial response was to rage against the metal that was locked around her neck. Thrashing around, clawing at the device, tumbling over.
Nothing worked. After minutes of desperation, the truth sank in. The truth.
Last night, the memories of what had transpired were still fresh in mind.
Uncomfortably so, she recalled everything up to a certain point, where she most likely fell asleep... or passed out.
A sick feeling clung to her stomach as flashes of yesterday burned bright in her mind.
She humping against Mr C's leg, reaching for his mouth and slobbering over his neck. Him rejecting her desperate, pathetic attempts to hook up.
Oh God, what fool I made of myself.
She blamed herself bitterly and felt disgusted by her own actions.
I got drunk on the intoxicating atmosphere.
Thinking her actions were only spurred on by her own inability to maintain professional in erotic situations, she came down hard on herself.
Yesterday's memory became a mark of shame.
Slowly standing up from her curled up position, she noticed something latched onto her big toe. She pulled her foot out of Lira's mouth, who had automatically grabbed a hold of her biggest toe and begun sucking it.
Not even wanting to try to deal with the mess that was her newly acquired sex slave, she stood up, straightened her back, traced her fingers along the her prominent eyebrows before assuming a little of her old spunky posture.
She looked at the mess that was her skimpy dress, and the scatterings of her accessories. She really REALLY needed a shower to regain some footing. There was a shower in the building, she was fairly certain. She weren't sure if there were anyone else here. If memory served her correct, then the man who handed her Lira should've left by now.
she walked out the open doors and was then faced with closed doors. Standing there, naked, shamed...
The doors felt gigantic. Towering over her. The light bathed her in cold, loveless light.
If she were to walk out, a naked mess, and meet someone... Disaster.
She gulped nervously as she put an ear to the door.
Nothing.
Bravery left her, and in its absence, nervousness filtered in.
She turned around and flicked the cigarette into the fireplace.
She pulled out a new one, lit it, and sat down on the chair by the fireplace. This headache of a night must become nothing more than a bad memory.
Wanting some more confidence, she sucked down on the nicotine. She was feeling such a mental fatigue... Like depression on steroids.
What had become of her?
What am I becoming?