Chapter 27: Trafficked Part 2

The warm light of morning filtered through the haze of dust and exhaust, nudging me awake as a boot prodded my side gently, not the brutal kick I’d grown to expect. I blinked up at a young Latino man, his face soft around the edges, with only a few patches sewn crookedly on his worn leather jacket—no sergeant stripes or officer bars like the others. He crouched down, holding out a handful of crumbly biscuits, their golden edges flaky and warm. ‘Here, eat a bit,’ he said, his voice low and careful, like he was sharing a secret. I snatched them from his palm, gulping them down greedily, the buttery dough crumbling against my tongue, filling my empty stomach with a simple, aching comfort. He offered a strip of jerky next, tough and salty, and I tore into it with my teeth, chewing until the juices burst in my mouth. Then came real water from a canteen, cool and pure, not the tainted hose spray. I guzzled it, streams spilling down my chin, soaking into the ‘Public Cum Dump’ tattoo on my chest, washing away the night’s grime in tiny rivulets. I watched him warily, my body tensing for the inevitable grope or thrust, expecting his hands to yank at the chastity belt and force my holes open right there in the dirt. But he just kept feeding me—more biscuits, another piece of jerky, sips of water—until the food ran out. It was the first meal since those greasy tacos days ago, the first scrap of kindness since the Bandidos had dragged me into their hell. My belly swelled slightly, a warm fullness spreading through me, easing the gnawing void.

‘We have a long day. Let’s go,’ he murmured, unhooking the dog chain from the stake with a metallic click. He helped me stand, his grip firm but not crushing, steadying my wobbly legs as blood rushed back into them. For the first time, I could take in my surroundings. The tent city had packed up and relocated to a tent camp in the middle of nowhere, tents, pickup trucks, motorbikes and trailers clustered under a vast, empty sky, ringed by scrubby desert brush and distant, jagged mountains that clawed at the horizon. The air smelled of dry earth and faint engine oil, a far cry from the canal’s rot. He led me to a hose coiled by a water tank, and I hobbled over with mincing steps, the metal dildos shifting inside me with every jolt, their unyielding steel grinding against my raw walls, sending sparks of dull pain up my spine. The water gushed cold at first, then warmed under the sun as I rinsed my face, my arms, the sweat-matted skin between my thighs. I scrubbed at the dirt on my body, and felt a flicker of energy return, my limbs less leaden, my mind sharpening just enough to feel almost human again, even with the heavy intrusions locking my pussy and ass in their vise.

‘What’s your name?’ he asked, handing me a rag to dry off, his eyes flicking away from my pierced nipples and the heavy silver rings tugging at them.

‘Mei Ling,’ I rasped, my voice hoarse from screams and gags.

‘My name is Miguel,’ he replied, slinging the hose back. ‘I’m sorry about your situation, but I can’t do anything.’

‘That’s okay,’ I said, surprising myself with the steadiness. ‘Neither can I.’

He nodded once, then guided me toward a motorcycle trailer hitched to a battered pickup, its sides dented and splashed with mud. I was right about the false floor—I’d felt the hollow thud beneath me during the ride. Miguel lifted me easily, his arms wrapping under my knees and back, and lowered me into the narrow compartment, a cramped void lined with foam padding stained dark from use. The air inside was stale, thick with the scent of old sweat and vinyl. ‘Do you want some help for the trip to go faster?’ he asked, pulling a small baggie from his pocket. I nodded, knowing exactly what he meant—the escape from the endless ache. He tapped out a line of white powder on the trailer’s edge. ‘This isn’t cocaine,’ he warned. ‘It’s crystal meth. Lasts much longer, gives a different high.’ I leaned in and snorted it, the burn racing up my nostrils like fire ants, sharp and chemical, settling into my sinuses with a bitter tang.

Docile now, I let him refasten the chastity belt, the lock clicking shut over the metal dildos that filled me so completely, their ridges pressing deeper as he adjusted the straps. He slipped the hood back over my head, the leather muffling the world, then wedged the gag between my teeth, the ball forcing my forked tongue flat, drool already pooling. Finally, the plug into my mouth, sealing me silent. I felt like a mummy being wrapped for the tomb, layers of restraint binding me tighter with each step. Miguel pushed me down into the compartment, my body folding into the tight space, knees to chest, the steel in my holes shifting with a cold grind. The false floor clanked shut overhead, heavy and final, followed by the thudding of luggage piled on top—duffels and crates pressing down, compressing the air around me.

Then the drugs hit, a tidal wave crashing through my veins, igniting every nerve in a blaze of liquid sunlight. Euphoria bloomed like a thousand-petaled rose unfurling in my chest, petals of pure gold and velvet softness, wrapping my heart in warmth that spread outward in shimmering waves. Arousal surged next, hot and insistent, my pussy clenching around the metal dildo, the steel warming to my heat as slickness coated it despite the lock. Even chained, I rubbed my thighs together, the friction building like a symphony of sparks, crescendoing into an orgasm that exploded in rainbows—vivid arcs of crimson, sapphire, and emerald bursting behind my blindfold, stars twinkling like diamonds scattered across a velvet sky. This stuff was gold, pure alchemy turning my blood to champagne bubbles, my heart racing not in fear but in ecstatic flight. I wanted to be here, swallowed by the dark, restrained in this coffin of a compartment; I wanted to be trafficked across endless miles, handed from hand to rough hand; I wanted to be fucked raw, to be a slut devouring cock after cock, to roll in the filth like an animal in heat, baying for more. Everything that had shattered me—Jake’s blackmail, the gangbangs, the modifications carving my body into this tattooed vessel—it was all because I desired it deep down, a secret fire I’d always carried, now roaring free in glorious abandon.