Chained (Part 2)

...Continued from last post...

"How are you my dear?” He was being caring today, and that scared me more than ever. Giorgio Bernazi, or Georgie, as he liked to be called, had terrible mood swings; one moment he was this kind and loving person, and the next moment, he would turn into a psychotic maniac. And whenever he was his belligerent self, I would be his punching bag. I had been beaten so many times that I thought I would be immune to his blows.

Sadly, I wasn’t as immune as I thought. Yesterday, he had come back drunk and very angry. Apparently he had lost big money in his normal gambling bouts, and came back requesting for his dinner. I had ordered pizza as he had requested before leaving.

After he was done with his meal, he called me for the normal round of sex. When I came into his room, I pulled off my clothes, and got into bed. He downed his drink, and climbed unto the bed with me. As he was running his hands over me, over my breasts, inside my thighs, he slid two fingers inside me. I felt such revulsion that I wanted to smash his head with something hard. But I could not do it. He would kill me if I didn’t succeed in killing him (which I’m not sure I could do).

As he climbed on top of me to ease himself inside me, he noticed something on my ankle. It was an ankle bracelet given to me by a man, a regular customer of mine. He was one of the few men who have been kind to me.

“Who gave you this?” he questioned as he yanked it off my ankle.

“It—It was Mr. Lorenzo. He…gave it to me yesterday after his business with me,” I replied, terrified of what he would do.

“And in your superior wisdom, you chose not to tell me?”

I knew that I was in trouble.

“No… it’s not that. I for—”

“What did I tell you about keeping things from me?” he queried, now infuriated. He had this throbbing vein in his temple. It was scary to look at.

“You said bad things happen to people who keep things from you.”

“Yet you kept this from me. Why?”

“I’m so—sorry. Please, I’m so… sorry,” I pleaded. The beating could start any moment.

“Could it be that you are having a secret relationship with him?”

Even if I was having anything of such, I would never let him know. That would spell my doom. As it was, he had already concluded that I was having an affair; he would kill me, I was sure. He stood up, brought out his belt, and was about to beat me with it when he received a call. He went to take the call, promising to come back and ‘set me right’.

Immediately he left, I knew that he would maim me if I remained there when he came back. I put on a gown and escaped through the window. Climbing down, I had the feeling of falling down and breaking one part of my body. I calmed myself down and gingerly made my way down.

When I touched the ground, I bumped into his car. The panic alarm went off, and he looked down and saw me. He dropped the phone and ran to get me. I leapt into the street, running blindly for my life. My escape was short-lived as I was caught in a storage room and beaten till I fainted.


“I’m fine,” I replied him, standing up and taking the food he brought. I was really famished and wolfed down the cold pizza without a second thought. He just watched me as a master would watch his dog who he had starved for so long. When I finished eating, he informed me that I had a client who needed a very ‘sexy and docile African girl’ for the night.

He then went on to ask me, “I hope you have no objections against working tonight?”

As if I had any choice. He practically owned me; ever since he bought me in Tripoli over two years ago, he had done whatever he wanted with me.

“No, I don’t have any objections,” I dutifully answered.

“I thought as much.”

He then left me. Without anything to do till later in the night, I went through the events that brought me to where I was. My family was poor, my parents had to use all they had to pay for my university education; but then, they had nothing to train my four remaining siblings with. My elder brother, who would have alleviated our suffering died in an automobile accident one day when he was returning from work. This was before I graduated. His death was the darkest time of my life. I was very close to him, he was my role model.

After his demise, things turned worse. My father  had to sell a parcel of his land to enable me finish my education. Finding a job proved to be tougher than I thought. I submitted applications to many companies, most of them never called back. The ones that called back wanted something in return for the jobs.

From the time I started looking for work till now, it was as if the ghoul of prostitution was hovering around me. So many managers made passes at me, but I rebuffed all their advances. Little did I know what the future had in store for me.

One day, my boyfriend Emeka told me of this agency that helps people get to Europe where there are greener pastures. I had my misgivings about the whole thing, but he was very convinced that the agency was legitimate. He had always been the one who took care of details and all the important stuff. According to him, the agency required a registration fee of five hundred thousand naira. That immediately put me off the more. But my boyfriend was insistent and very persuasive. In the end, I had to borrow the money from various people to register for going to Europe.

Battered by the surge of memories, I started crying; I cried my heart out and did not know when I fell asleep.


When I woke up, it was already nighttime. Georgie was hammering at the door, shouting that I should better dress up quickly.

“Olivia! You better hurry up. We’re taking the metro to Paris and our client doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

France? That was a different area of operation. Normally his pimp business was centered on Venice and its environs. The client must have some clout to have pulled Georgie out of his kingdom. I settled into the business of making myself as attractive as possible. Given my general physique, it doesn’t take much. I applied mascara lightly on my face, making my naturally brown face to appear lighter. I didn’t want to wear heavy makeup especially when the business I was going for had little to do with my face than other parts of my body. So, I also applied a gentle dab of lip gloss, which accentuated my full lips.

I then chose a tight-fitting, thigh-length gown, which Georgie had given me six months back. He has said it was a present, but he never gave out something without expecting anything in return. Finally, I put on four inch high stilettos and I was ready to go.

The journey to Paris was uneventful. When we alighted from the train, we got a cab which took us to the hotel Antoine Dubois (that was the name of the client) was staying. At the hotel, we were met by Mr. Dubois’ valet, who took us to his room. He was staying in an executive suite, which was tastefully furnished. Before I could further appreciate the room, Giorgio made the introductions.

“Mr. Dubois, may I introduce Miss Olivia, my associate and your escort for the night?” The way he said those words sent up a bile of revulsion up my body. I seriously felt the urge to spit on his face. Instead, I plastered a smile on my face.

Mr. Dubois said, “Miss Olivia, a pleasure to meet you.” He took my hand, and as he kissed it, he leered at me. Oh God, let this be over quickly. We went down to the bar, and started drinking. As the men engaged in ardent conversation, my mind drifted to the how I finally came to Europe...

... To be continued...

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