Chapter 1
1257 Words
CHAPTER 1: The announcement of the website
Alyssa Moreau stared at the elderly owner of her apartment, a man with a sullen face and eyes narrowed in contempt. Her hands shook as she held out an empty envelope, hoping he would agree to more time.
“I’ve given you enough time, Miss Moreau,” he grumbled, crossing his arms. You've been promising to pay for three months. I am not a charity.
The sharp, dry tone of his words hit her like a punch. She felt her cheeks redden with shame and anger.
“I… I’ll find the money, Mr. Gauthier,” she begged, her voice trembling. Give me another week, please.
He burst into a sarcastic laugh.
— A week? No, young lady. You are going out now. I'm keeping your stuff until you pay what you owe me.
Before she could protest, he slammed the apartment door, leaving her standing in the cold hallway with only a purse containing her papers and a few crumpled bills. Tears rolled down her cheeks, but she forced herself not to burst into tears. She knew it wouldn't do any good.
In the street, Alyssa began walking aimlessly. Her worn shoes scraped against the pavement as she walked forward, her gaze fixed on the ground. She thought of her mother, who had been gone for years, and of her father, whom she had never known. No one would come to her aid, she knew that well. She was alone.
Her stomach growled, but she ignored it. Hunger was just one of the many pains that weighed on her.
“Come on, Alyssa,” she whispered to motivate herself. You will find a job. You have no choice.
She nervously reached into her purse to pull out her phone. Perhaps the classifieds could offer him a quick solution. Opening a job site, she looked through endless lists of positions: waitress, cleaning lady, cashier... But none promised a salary sufficient to pay her debts.
She sighed, ready to give up for the day, when an announcement caught her attention.
"We are looking for young girls capable of being licked. Well-paid job: 1000 euros per hour. No penetration required."
Alyssa's eyes widened.
- Seriously ? she muttered, both shocked and intrigued.
She reread the ad several times, trying to understand. It wasn't exactly p**********n, she told herself. After all, they had made it clear “no penetration”. Just…getting licked.
Her heart beat faster as she seriously considered the idea.
“A thousand euros an hour,” she murmured. It’s a lot…
She thought of her owner and his belongings locked in the apartment. To the hunger that gnawed at her and the constant fatigue of fighting alone.
“It’s only an hour,” she tried to reassure herself. An hour, and I could pay part of my rent, maybe even treat myself to a night in a hotel...
She bit her lower lip, hesitant, but despair outweighed her pride. She clicked on the ad link and began reading the instructions for applying.
Each word increased her discomfort, but she saw no other way out. She sighed deeply, sent in her application with a photo of herself, and nervously waited for a response.
On the busy city streets, 18-year-old Alyssa made a choice she never imagined a few months before.
The confirmation message arrived barely an hour after Alyssa applied. The anonymous sender arranged to meet her at 10 p.m. in an abandoned cellar, located in a neighborhood she vaguely knew for its dubious activities.
When she arrived, night had already enveloped the city, and the icy air seeped through her outfit. She was still wearing the same faded jeans and holey sweater her owner had kicked her out with. His sneakers, old and scuffed, seemed even more worn in the face of the situation.
The cellar was at the end of a dark alley, poorly lit by a flickering street lamp. Two men stood in front of the entrance: imposing, built like wardrobes, with fitted black clothes that showed bulging muscles. One had a thick, well-trimmed beard, the other was clean-shaven but had a thin scar running across his left cheek. Their cold gazes scrutinized Alyssa as soon as she approached.
She hesitated for a moment, her heart pounding. The atmosphere was heavy, almost oppressive, and the trembling light from the street lamp accentuated the impression that she was being watched.
— Is that you, Alyssa Moreau? the bearded man asked in a deep voice, almost a growl.
She nodded, her throat too dry to respond immediately.
— We were waiting for you. Come in,” said the man with the scar, pointing to the cellar stairs with a gesture of his chin.
She stepped forward timidly, her hands clenched on the straps of her bag. But before she could descend, one of the men whistled softly, as if he had just noticed something unusual.
— Did you see that, Marc? the one with the scar whispered.
“Yeah,” replied the bearded man, with a smirk.
Their heavy gazes swept her up and down, lingering on her youthful curves, her delicate face despite the tired look, and her large, bright eyes which betrayed a certain innocence mixed with fear.
“She’s more than I imagined,” Marc murmured.
Alyssa felt her face heat up under their insistent gazes. She tightened the sides of her holey sweater around her, feeling uncomfortable.
“Not bad for a kid who can’t even afford to pay her rent,” the other added with a sneer.
- It's good ! Alyssa cut in, her voice trembling but firm. You called me, right? So where should I go?
The bearded man crossed his arms, his mocking smile never leaving his face.
— She has character, I like that. Okay, it's over there.
He opened a heavy metal door which creaked on its hinges, revealing the interior of the cellar. The walls were raw, covered in graffiti and stained with damp. A faint red light bathed the room, giving the place an almost hellish atmosphere.
“Sit there,” Marc said, pointing to a black leather armchair placed in the center of the room.
Alyssa walked slowly, her footsteps echoing on the concrete floor. Behind her, the two men closed the door, plunging the room into an eerie silence.
She sat down in the chair, her hands trembling on her knees. The men still stared at her, as if measuring every detail of her.
— So, is she the one they sent us? asked a voice from a dark corner of the room.
Alyssa jumped slightly when she saw a third, older man emerging from the shadows. Elegantly dressed in a black suit, he had a stern but refined face, with piercing eyes that seemed to read her.
“Yes,” Marc replied with a smile. Look at her, boss. She's worth every penny.
The "boss" stepped forward, his patent leather shoes clicking lightly on the floor. He looked at Alyssa carefully, one eyebrow raised.
“Interesting,” he murmured, tilting his head. Welcome, Miss Moreau. You look nervous, but I assure you everything will be fine... if you cooperate.
Alyssa felt a cold sweat slide down the back of her neck, but she nodded slowly, trying to hide her fear.
“Very well,” the man continued. I will explain to you how things will happen.
The evening had barely started, and Alyssa realized how much she had gotten herself into something beyond her expectations.
- Writer
