Some of the so-called Gentlemen at the Retreat like to make me feel good. I guess it strokes their egos along with other parts of them as they watch my body react to their touch. Some men like to hurt me. I don’t know what issues they have and why they enjoy seeing other human beings suffering at their hands but I’m not their shrink, nor do I suppose they have one. None of the men seem to have any problem justifying their use or abuse of me and if it even occurs to them that I’m not here willingly they don’t care.
There are other men who like to dress things up a little. There are the obvious school girl or secretary requests but sometimes I’m told to prepare myself and get into character for something very different and very particular. That’s sort of what happened when I turned up at the Retreat last night.
I shouldn’t have been surprised, I suppose, considering it’s Christmas. I walked into the house slowly, quietly, and carefully as I always do, pushing open those big, heavy doors with dread.
“You’re cute. You’ll do.”
I looked up just in time to see something red and white flying through the air at me. (I had been carefully staring at the floor to try and avoid making eye contact with anyone. Sometimes, if you look away and pretend you’re already doing something or on your way to see someone else, the men leave you alone. For a while, anyway.)
I managed to catch the bundle in my arms.
Clutching what looked like clothing I followed the man up the stairs and into one of the bedrooms. He closed the door and locked it. Continue reading →See More of Charlotte & Clara: