Page 15 of The Female

I recoil as I spot a woman in the corner getting her head shaved, and with a heavy heart, I realize it’s Erica. She was gleefully sharing her experience with Ben just an hour ago, and now she’s sobbing quietly as that same man shaves her head.

I’m surprised whoever purchased her requested this, and I hope it was the only demand they made.

A loud cry distracts me, and I turn to see some blonde I’ve only spoken to a few times receive a wax. The male grooming her presses his hand to her tender skin after removing a large chunk of her pubic hair, and he waits for her cry to die down before adding more hot wax to her body.

Other than the occasional pained shout, the room is silent.

Well, mostly.

The groomers don’t seem to have the same reservations and chat loudly amongst themselves as if this were a regular, everyday occurrence.

I move to stand along the back wall. A few other females are also waiting their turns, and I nod in silent greeting as I join them.

My hands clench into tight fists as I watch a woman spread her legs for a waxer, her face contorted in pain as he applies hot wax to her inner thigh. I can’t even begin to imagine how painful that must be, and I hope the men who purchased me don’t desire the same level of softness from my skin.

My dad never required such things from my mom, and in turn, I’ve never been expected or encouraged to shave. I prefer it that way, finding it unnecessary to rid myself of the hair my body naturally produces.

When the locked door opens, I turn, expecting to see another female or groomer step inside. Instead, one of the guards comes wandering in, his lips pursed as he scans the room. He lingers on Erica, not even bothering to hide his staring, before shifting to one of the women lying on their backs getting waxed.

I hate how he leers at her, but nobody says anything about it.

We never do.

Eventually, his eyes land on me, and I feel my pulse begin to race as I drop my head and pretend not to notice. I’m not sure what he’s doing here, but I have no interest in getting involved. I hold my breath as I watch his booted feet approach my bare toes, and I continue staring at the ground as he lifts one of his tattooed arms and grabs my bicep.

Once more, my lungs feel inefficient as I’m ripped from my spot and pulled roughly toward the door. I lick my lips nervously as I follow him into the hallway, pausing as he stops to lock the door behind me.

“Your males have decided to forego the grooming,” he huffs.

He doesn’t wait for my response before leading me down the hallway, his pace fast and hurried. My arms cross protectively over my chest as I rush behind him, my skin sweaty despite the cool chill in the building.

I hoped I’d be given something to wear before being introduced to my buyers. Did they specifically request I be brought to them naked?

Do they plan to take me right away?

Anthony claimed I have a high likelihood of birthing twins, and I’m sure whoever purchased me is intrigued by that. Two children mean more opportunities for a female, and that’s all people care about nowadays.

I wouldn’t be surprised if they take me before we even leave the building, and I dig my fingertips into my arms at the thought.

Refusing to cry, I hold my head high as I’m led to the exit. The guard scans his keycard to unlock the door before leading me outside.

Despite how I may be feeling, I straighten my spine and stand tall. My father told me I need to appear strong. He said men will respect me more if I do. I’ve never believed it, but I’m desperate enough to give it a try.

There’s a car waiting by the door, the deep-black color blending in with the night sky. I didn’t even realize it was nighttime, and the moon casts little glow.

It fits how I feel. Dim and dark.

I hear a car door slamming shut before spotting the driver rushing around the front. He barely spares me a glance as he opens the back door and gestures for me to enter.

I’ve mindlessly followed all the orders I’ve been given since being captured, but this is the one where I hesitate. Are my buyers in there? The vehicle is small, but I estimate four or five humans could fit inside. Will they take me in the backseat?

Are they even human?

My pulse races as I think over the possibilities. I’d love to be bought by an elf or shifter, but I know that’s wishful thinking. I’d never get so lucky as to be paired with a blessed breed.

The driver clears his throat when I make no attempt to enter the vehicle, the noise startling. I look around the parking lot and debate running. This is my last opportunity to do so. I doubt I would make it far, but there’s always the possibility I’m successful.

I could hide underground and survive off canned food and rats.

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