Speaker 1: What's up, everyone, and welcome to another episode of the
Epstein Chronicles. I've had a lot of people ask me
about Virginia's memoir, The Billionaire's Playboy Club, and it's certainly
available out there as part of the court documents for
anybody who wants to take a look. So I figure
we might as well get this bad boy added to
the catalog as well. That way you can hear from
Virginia herself what she had to say. So I'll keep
my ranting short and we'll just dive in The Billionaires
Playboy Club by Virginia Roberts. To my true love Robbie,
who believes in me every step of the way, and
to all my children, you are my very inspirations. Chapter one.
Every single person in this shared world together has a
unique story of his or her own to tell. This
one is mine. It was coming up on my third
night camping out at Miami Beach in the summer of
nineteen ninety seven. I was thirteen years old and hiding
from a world full of hurt. Sitting on the shoreline
for hours watching the sunset fall deeper into the horizon,
my eyes were glazed over with tears, not from being
wind whipped by the rough sea breeze, but from reflecting
on the abuse I encountered as a young girl, and
how everyone in my life who was supposed to be
there for me had turned their backs on me in abandonment.
My fears crept up, and the excitement of escaping all
of them faded. Now realizing how alone I really was
now and for the hunger that was painting my belly
at this point, with nowhere to go and only time
to waste, I wiped the tears from my eyes and
set out to find an empathetic person that I could
manage to get dinner money from. If not, it wouldn't
have been the first time I had gone hungry for
the night. I walked to the nearest bus stop and
asked a handful of people for any spare change, none
of whom that could help me. Sitting down on a
nearby curb, disappointed in grief of my current state, I
put my head into my knees and began to sob.
Out of nowhere, it seemed, a black stretch limousine turned
the corner and stopped in front of the curb where
I had been hopelessly lost. The back door opened to
reveal a heavy weight and balding old man with a big,
cheesy smile. Neatly dressed in black trousers and a collared shirt.
He was sitting next to a striking young blonde girl,
dropped dead beautiful and dressed in a foxy red mini dress.
She looked like a model just stepping off the runway.
Their smiles greeted me warmly, and he kindly asked, what
is such a sweet little girl like you doing sitting
alone on the street, looking so upset. Shocked from this
stranger's concern, I was hesitant in telling him the truth. Reluctantly,
I decided to tell him that I was a runaway,
not from around here, and really hungry, hoping at most
I would get some money for food from him. He
instantly displayed a chilling excitement and offered me to come
into his car so we could talk some more. That
should have been my first to get out of there quick,
but with nowhere to go and so naive, I didn't
realize how much worse it could get. Setting foot into
that limo, I made my first entrance into a world
that would entrap me for many years to come. He
introduced himself immediately as Ron Eppinger, a businessman and owner
of a successful modeling agency call Perfect ten, flaunting is
oozing wealth by introducing one of his many girlfriends. The
beauty next to him was Yanna, a supposed model from
the Czech Republic who looked like she could be in
her early twenties with the heavy load of makeup that
she was wearing, but really was in her late teens.
She kissed me on both cheeks and politely said hello
in a thick check accent, making me feel a little
more at ease. Convinced it couldn't be that bad. There
was another girl in the car, right, I couldn't be
more wrong. What he didn't tell me to begin with
was that his modeling agency was only posing for an
undercover trade. By the time I found out, I thought
it was too late to run. His business was really
in a lead immigrant trafficking ring of young women, mostly
consisting of underage girls, that he was using his escorts
to make them uber rich. Only available to a selective clientele,
costing them anywhere from one thousand dollars and over per
hour of erotic entertainment, the girls were trained to fulfill
every sexual desire asked of them. No matter how bizarre
the request might be, the high paid escorts for Ron's
super rich clientele, such as Yana and many other charismatic beauties,
would only benefit a fraction of their earnings for themselves,
Ron reaping the majority of the financial rewards, and being
they were all illegal immigrants, they were further trapped by
his enslavement. I proceeded to introduce myself besides what he
found out about me on the curb side, telling them
my name and a little bit about how I ended
up on the streets, explaining that I could take care
of myself and didn't need my family or anyone to
look after me anymore. Looking back later in life, I
can now admit I was a terrible state, but being
such a headstrong teenager, I refuse to give in. He
asked my age, and I told him I was sixteen.
At first, he coally replied, are you sure I think
you could be telling me a fibb? How old are
you really? I won't be mad. Being a terrible liar,
I knew I had been caught and couldn't deny it
any further. I told him the truth and he chuckled,
then paused and answered in a very serious tone, as
long as you never lie to me again, I will
take you in right away. I pondered to myself, what
did he mean. He gave the driver the location of
our destination and rolled the middle window back up to
then tell me a story of how his daughter had
passed away seven years ago from a horrific car accident
in which four other teens were killed, and he has
never gotten over it. And then unfortunately a bit of
this is cut off here, so it picks back up
right here. Of life was just mind blowing to me
to even comprehend at first, with such a new outlook
of the world, world to try and grasp at my
young age. I was just listening to every word spoken
to me with such attentiveness. I was going to try
and model what I was observing from the girls. I
justified their way of thinking in my head for now,
thinking if all these girls seem happy enough, why couldn't
I try to be? It was this or the streets
for me. Ron came back for me not long after
our conversation got out of hand and took me to
the bathroom down the hall. He opened the tap and
filled a small plastic cup with water and handed me
two small blue oval pills, telling me to take them
both as they would help me relax a little bit.
I swallowed the pills, just following his orders. I put
the cup on the countertop and turned back around to
face them, backing me up against the wall and now
cornered by this large man, I felt slithering hands began
to creep under my shirt, writhing my skin. I closed
my eyes tightly and turned my head away from him,
hoping that he would take my actions as a sign
kind of being extremely uncomfortable. But that wouldn't bother him
at all. He was half enjoying my reaction from the
smug look on his face, and persisted through it, continuing
to undress my clothes. He said he wanted to look
me over and clean me up. It was so humiliating
having to expose myself to this aging man, and now
I knew he was going to end up with his
hands and whatever else all over me all too soon.
I hated to be right. As I stood naked before
his widened eyes, he told me you're a hairy bugger.
I'll have to shave you right up, young lady. And
I didn't know he wasn't just talking about my legs.
Standing with my legs wide apart while this man coaxed
me through the entire ordeal of shaving his hands made
me feel so dirty. Have I lost my mind? I
thought to myself. But I had to play nice until
I had an opportunity to get away. This was not
as fun as the girls made it out to be.
After all, this was utterly disgusting. I had no idea
what was going to happen next with this guy, and
due to whatever pharmaceuticals he gave me, I still don't
know to this day. Waking up the next morning, my
head was pounding and in an agonizing thumping pain, and
I was so thirsty. The satin sheets thankfully covered my body,
which was still nude from the night before, and I
could hear hush voices standing over the bed where I
was pretending to still be asleep, listening in on their conversations.
I kept my eyes shut. I knew Ron's voice from
two of the men, but not recognizing the other guys.
I just stayed quiet, hoping he'd soon leave. Ron was
telling the other man what atrocities he got up to
the night before with me, and I heard him say,
doesn't she even look like an angel the way she sleeps?
She's my own little angel, he exclaimed proudly. I opened
my eyes and rolled over to face them, both, having
to wrap the sheets around my body, really not knowing
what to say except good morning in a blushful tone.
Ron introduced me to his business partner and told me
to get dressed. He had my whole day planned out
for me. Already looked in to get my hair colored
a much lighter tintle blonde, and afterwards a day of
shopping with the girls. I was becoming exactly what he
wanted me to be, a carbon copy of the teenage Barbie,
only I wasn't plastic and came with many benefits. Days
turned into weeks being a servant to the sexual desires
of this distorted pervert. I dreamt of escaping, But where
would I go and how would I get away from Ron?
With him controlling my every second of my day, separating
myself from the other girls. Being so uncomfortable with enduring
the everyday occurrences, I was longing for the solitude of
the beach again. They were training me up to be
an escort prodigy or something like that outrageous orgies were
conducted as my lessons, with the girls teaching me all
of their tricks in the game. It was for the
sake of men's perverted fantasies. They didn't get anything from
being sexually exploited and molesting each other except getting paid
for it. Everything from oral sex to penetration with toys.
I was expected to not only join in, but even
perform ludicrous acts of hedonism. I was thirteen years old
and had never heard the terminology of these sexual acts before,
and definitely shouldn't have been learning them firsthand. Thrown into
a world to chaos, I didn't know what to do
except be as compliant as possible, even when asked to
do the most degrading tasks. The excitement of the lifestyle
he offered quickly diminished once I had to pay so
dearly for it. The girls that subdued to this lifestyle
and enjoyed it definitely put on a good act. But
no little girl with hopes and dreams of their untainted
future turns to our mother and says, one day, I
dream of being a prostitute, passed around from man to man,
only to grow older regretting so much of my life.
It was all part of an illusion that Ron painted
for us that made it seem so alluring in the
first place. Spending my days with Ron, he took advantage
at every given chance, even in his convertible with the
top down, I would be worse to go topless while
he drove around when asked him. When I asked him
why one day, it was supposedly so I could maintain
an even suntan, but I knew it was his way
of showing off his treasures. It was a far cry
from the simple country life I had been raised in,
wearing designer mini skirts and tops that always revealed too much.
Of course, due to Ron and the girls determining everything
I wore, ate, or spoke, we would spend our days
at hair laser clinics, shopping, tanning beds, and eating as
little as possible. Through the nights, we were expected to
become party animals and greet Ron's client tell with the
utmost flirtatious attention and doting as possible. Then, whether we
were out for dinner, at a party or at a club,
the men would choose his girl and take her home.
Every girl had a different price, and so did the
charges depending on the various clients, but Ron always kept
me for himself. All right, folks, we're gonna wrap up
part one of chapter one right here and in the
next episode discussing the topic, we're going to pick up
where we left off. All of the information that goes
with this episode can be found in the description box.
What's up, everyone, and welcome to another episode of the
Epstein Chronicles. In this episode, we're going to pick up
where we left off with Virginia Robert's memoir The Billionaires
Playboy Club. I would always dread the end of every night,
fearing what new desires he had in store for the evening.
Sometimes he would hurt me and tell me to try
and enjoy it, then do it over and over again
until I give him exactly what he wanted. I always
resisted until I could not know more. He was too
overpowering and relentless at getting the results that he wanted.
At other times he could be so gentle and caress
my skin, worshiping every inch of my body, all relying
upon what mood he was in. Often, though, he liked
to play the teacher role and instruct me on every
motion and explain what would happen when I I did
those certain things to him. No matter what he did
to me, I was only disgusted with myself more and more.
I still shudder at the thought of how he used
my body. I turned fourteen in August that same year
and was spending my birthday loaded on a concoction of
pharmaceuticals and alcohol, being generously supplied by the very man
who swore his devotion to caring for my every need.
I didn't even know myself any longer, completely shying away
from the girl I had grown up to be. Until
this point. The apartment was empty except for me for
the time being, and that was God's own little present
for me, some solitude for once, I thought. Pouring myself
another drink, I opened the siding glass doors to the
balcony and walked to the edge, looking down from the
many stories where Ron's apartment was. I wished myself a
happy birthday out loud, and wondered if my family even
remembered the day's occurrence. Dwelling in my sadness for the
fourteen years of suffering and loneliness I had already endured,
the tears swelled up in my eyes, trickling downwards down
my cheeks. Inside. I felt so trapped, and I began
to entertain the thought of jumping over the edge. It
all seemed so much easier, and the simple blackness that
death had to offer, rather than the tangled mess I
was so tired of fighting to get out of seemed
a much easier approach. Detached from wanting to feel anything,
I became so numb towards my life's on tragedies. I
couldn't live like this any longer. I lifted my bare
legs over the edge of the railing and sat looking
at the ground beneath me, so close to even just
slipping off the edge to my death. I couldn't think
of any reason not to fall. I thought that I
had made too many bad decisions to keep going on.
But some force of a higher nature had other things
in store for me. The sliding door slammed open with
a burst of speed, and Ron screwed me up in
his big arms and brought me inside of our bedroom,
laying me down and seeing the look of despair in
my eyes from my tear stained face, he went into
the bathroom cupboard and returned with three pink pills, forcing
me to swallow them. Using the anger tone of his voice.
He thought he was turning my sorrows into a distant dream.
As I passed out in the bed, crying myself all
the way to sleep, he didn't even ask me what
was wrong, probably because he knew already Soon enough, the
crumbling of his vampire in the underworld of selling sex
for his own advantage began with a single crack in
his perfect scheme, and proudly it all started with me.
Ron got a scare one day and rampage through his apartment,
telling us girls to only pack our important belongings and
some clothes as we had to leave right away. I
didn't have much belonging to me, so I basically sat
there watching everyone rush around frantically and was curious what
could have gotten a man like Ron so scared. Once
we were packed up and in the limo, he was
trying to calm the frantic girls down. After all the
panic that spread through the apartment like wildfire. I was
the only one sitting there, half amused at the entire situation.
He began assuring us that everything was going to be fine,
as we were packed tightly in a limo that we
were taking a long trip to Florida's countryside because someone
had reported an anonymous tip to the missing persons unit
at the local police station, identifying a very young girl
as a possible victim of abuse. Living at his apartment.
Ron knew what a landmine of trouble he had brought
upon himself, making an exhibition out of me on the
streets of Miami. I didn't pull off the older girl
look like the other girls. I actually look younger than
my age, with my blue eyes and freckles, always giving
the impression of my youthful innocence. Now he had to
do just whatever it took to ensure he stayed as
far away from the authorities as possible. Arriving at a
ranch in central Florida many hours later, I assumed it
belonged to Ron, knowing never to ask him things like that.
I knew my purpose and it wasn't prying into his
personal life. Outside of the bedroom, there was a main house,
a few cottages, some staff quarters, and paddocks where the
horses were kept. I was in heaven, I thought, at first,
finally something I could really enjoy. Riding was my passion,
basically growing up on the backs of horses since I
was able to walk. Not surprisingly, I began to despise
Ron and all of the girls for the gross exploits
they made me do with them, beginning to isolate myself
from everyone. I'd rather spend my time sitting under a tree,
watching horses, grays, riding in my journal, or a painting,
but mostly avoiding everyone possible unless Ron required me elsewhere.
Nighttime was always a reoccurring nightmare for me, relived over
and over again in many various ways. Ron would always
start by making me some drinks and offering an assortment
of pills before indulging himself by grotesquely putting his genitals
in my mouth and tell me how to give them
what he would call a first class blowjob. And I
was being judged every minute of it, ordering me to
slow down or speed up, or maintain a perfect rhythm.
I was constantly being criticized for my efforts and pleasing them.
I was eager when he actually gave me a compliment.
The rest of the evening was always a surprise, left
up to the moment's notice. Quite regularly, he would proceed
with having the girls dress me up in a sexy
outfit and loads of makeup, then entertain them with a
lesbian reenactment revolving him at the center. Sometimes they would
use dildos and other foreign sex toys where I'd like
to see us hurt during sex, sometimes even penetrating me anally,
but I always resisted and would try to redirect them
with another sexual desire of his. But I had no
excuses when it came to me having to use the
sex toys on him. He told me men have g
spots in the erectum and instructed me how to precisely
penetrate them. These nights went on what seemed like an
eternal sentence for the price of not living on the streets,
where unfortunately for the one still there, I feared anew
for my own personal experience could be much worse. Needing
some contact with someone of my adolescent mentality, I called
one of my school friends from the past, whom I
won't name out of privacy, but I'll call him TJ.
We were so close and I knew him very well,
so well I had memorized his number a long time before.
He was my first puppy love sprung from a childhood friendship,
being my first crush. The summer before all of this happened.
He was the only person I could think that would
care enough to talk to me. In the middle of
the day, the least busy time to be noticed, I
snuck into one of the vacant guest rooms and used
the phone to call my good friend. The sound of
my voice radiated a chillin' him. It's you. Oh my god, Jenna,
are you okay? He was so shocked to hear from me,
and the sheer fact that I was still alive nearly
three months now without a single word to my family
or friends. Everyone doubted my return. My attempt to forge
a happy voice when I spoke to him failed, and
I absolutely crumbled. When he was at a loss for
kind words for me, I told him of my current
state of affairs, telling them of Ron and how I
was terrified of him trying to escape in the middle
of nowhere was useless. It was like being kept in
a cage that I was enabled to break free from.
Going on to dump my issues on TJ, I proceeded
with how I longed to call my family and to
be with them for good, but was too afraid they
didn't want me, knowing I'd just be sent away somewhere
else again, and to me after all this time was
like going from one cage to another. He had been
called by them numerously and promised me that they were
very worried and even hired private investigators to try and
find me. Given I was eleven years old the first
time I was sent away, my trust in their sincerity
he spoke about was seriously doubted. I kept the conversation short,
just in case my absence was being noticed, and I
left on the note that I would speak to him
again shortly. His attempts to get off the phone were
nothing short of desperately to keep me on as long
as possible. I thought he was just trying to help
me in some way, giving him assurance in the fact
I had survived this long Obviously I can hold off
a while longer. I gave him my love and told
him I'd be in touch. Thinking I had slipped away unnoticed,
I entered into the room that I shared with Ron,
hoping I got away with my brief and very needed
phone call. The place looked empty and everyone else seemed
to be out and about, so I decided to have
a bath in the spa and try to relax before
the night's precautions. My body glided into the steamy water
as I began to think about TJ and how good
it felt just to hear for a friendly voice. My
thoughts drifted to the days I missed when I felt
I could be silly and childlike, and nearly forgot for
a moment how grown up I was acting these days.
My first glimpse at the image surrounding me when I
resurfaced above the water was daunting. There was Ron standing
over my tub, looking down at me with an eager
display of his arousal. He began to undo his pants
and take them down, and when he told me put
your lips on my cock, I was too slow in
responding to his request, so he grabbed me by the
back of my head and forced me into his groin.
I had tears streaming down my face as I looked
up to him with the saddest blue eyes, hoping he
would take pity and stop, but he never did. I
was really hurt by this aggression, and he definitely knew
it at the time, which I believe only made him
more heated. I closed my eyes and began to count,
using the time to keep my thoughts elsewhere, believing every
number I counted only furthered me to the end of this.
I just got over a hundred when he finished, and
still half submerged in the deep bath, I was struggling
to gain my bearings as Ron picked me up out
of the bath and carried me to our bedroom, which
was just outside the French adjoined doors, still damp from
the hot water and the spa, I had goosebumps from
the chill of the fresh air where he brought me
to the bed and proceeded to deeply violate my every being. Eventually,
his scars that he left were too deep to ever
be healed, and would even carry on through the years
to come. All right, we're going to wrap up right here,
and in the next episode, we're going to pick up
where we left off. All of the information that goes
with this episode can be found in the description box.
What's up, everyone, and welcome to another episode of the
Epstein Chronicles. In this episode, we're going to pick up
where we left off with the Billionaires Playboy Club, which
is the Virginia Roberts memoir. Starting my day with a
few of the supplied oxytocins and a bloody marry made
by the live in house chef, having two celery sticks
for my breakfast. I wanted to lie out by the
pool and forget the world. Ron hated Tannline, so to
be caught with a bikini top on was a big
no no in his rule book. But after my cries
to stop, we're so blatantly ignored last night, I was
out to piss him off so I didn't have to
remove my shirt. I put on my headphones, and before
I knew it, I had fallen into a deep slumber
from myself made therapeutic cocktail, the only way I knew
how to cope with the emotional turmoil on the inside.
Desperate to hear his voice, I called my friend TJ
a few more times that week. I needed to feel
like someone out there really knew me. Sometimes we could
just chat like old friends with no cares in the world,
and laugh at a distant memory from not too long ago.
Then would come the goodbye part of the conversation, and
we would both get teary eyed, not knowing what would
happen next or if this would be the last time
that we ever spoke to each other again. My biggest
fear came to reality. When I was in our bedroom
one afternoon, just lounging around out of boredom, Ron came
bursting in through the door, right as a tomato. I
couldn't help but feeling I was in big trouble. His
face was distorted and raging towards me. I knew right
away he must have found out that I was calling TJ.
But how I had no idea. I had always tried
to be an invisible as possible. Soon enough, it was
all explained, are you trying to get me caught? You
are nothing but a stupid girl. You know that. What
am I supposed to do with you? Now? He was
tearing up the room while his rants gave me something
else to think about. What would he do with me
if he had no use for me any longer. I
wasn't even thinking about him being caught for soliciting illegal
immigrants for the purpose of prostitution. I was more worried
that he would be upset at the fact I was
talking to another guy, maybe even jealous that he was
at least my age. I replied with the simple sentences
that I could manage to get out between all the shouting.
I kept saying I'm sorry and putting my head down
in shame. He picked me up by my throat, pinning
me against the wall. You're going away, far, far away
from me, and you better be nicer to the next
man I send you to. I've heard he's not as
nice as most would like. Are you fucking hearing me? Bitch?
I slid down the wall, choking on the first air,
entering my lungs, breathless and terrified. I never thought that
Ron was a nice guy, but I had never seen
him lose it this bad. Now I was being sent
away to another stranger, another man. It only terrified me more.
The girls came in to say they're goodbyes. All of
them were crying and asking me in their best English
languages why I had to call someone and lose everything.
I was able to find out through the broken sobs
off of them that the confession came from the housekeeper,
who said she saw me using the room regularly but
was never messed up. So Ron looked at the recent
telephone bills and found the same number dialed from that
room consecutively. He knew it was me right away. At
least he didn't know it was another guy. I thought
to myself, or I probably wouldn't have made it out
of their alive. Ron came back to usher the girls
out of my room and told me I had five
minutes to pack my clothes, which he made clear were
to be my only belongings to take with me. He
washed his hands clean of me that night, or so
he thought. The driver came knocking at my door just
as Ron said, no longer than five minutes that he
had offered me, and he took my single bag to
the car. I didn't want all the jewelry, music, or
books that he so caringly bought me as tokens of
his twisted affection, only taking my clothes and a lot
of one hundred dollars bills I had been saving. I
slid a hole in my scrunchy, inserting my cash for
a rainy day that I was more than sure was
just around the corner. We drove for hours until I
started seeing familiar surroundings. I couldn't believe my own eyes.
I was back in Miami, but not on the beaches,
somewhere in the CBD. This time. The driver delivered me
to the front door with my one bag and waited
at the door with me. Now I knew how it
felt to be a puppy picked up from her litter,
as you can only hope your next owner would treat
you with some kind of kindness. Another balding man answered
the door, but it wasn't so grotesquely fat like Ron,
but still a new owner at that. He looked me
up and down and seemed amused, and he snickered to himself.
With one last look to the over my shoulder. It
was almost an appeal for him for some way to
help me. I knew he couldn't anyways, I was just hoping.
He told me his name was Charlie, but didn't even
bother asking me what mine was. I was sure Ron
already filled him in on all my details when he
arranged this. Charlie picked up my bag and led me
into his bachelor pad townhouse. I was never given a
welcoming tour of my new residence or made to feel comfortable.
He walked me up the stairs and opened one of
the doors in the small hallway, telling me this would
be my new room. He showed me into it and
told me to wait. He would be back shortly. I
sat on my bed, afraid to touch anything and after
the warning Ron gave me, I knew I had to
watch my step around here. I put my head down
onto the pillow my world was falling apart, and let
my emotions downpour. Exhausted from the day's turmoil, I ended
up falling asleep. I don't even know if he ever
came in at all that night. The next morning I
looked out the window to see my new surroundings. It
was a beautiful sunny day outside, unlike the dreary cell
I was locked away inside of feeling the sun warm
up my face through the glass, it radiated a familiar
sense of comfort from the days of the good parts
of my childhood. I reminisced how it had used to
be before all my life turned upside down, before all
the fights with my family, before I had to look
after myself, and before I was a slave to men.
Those days were too long gone. Now, with too many
hard times passing me by, it seems surreal to think
that life had ever even existed in the first place.
With that thought, I shook myself out of reminiscing that way.
Whatever was going to happen was out of my control.
Now I just had to give myself some hope that
I would have the strength to get myself out of
these circumstances before anything really bad happened. Chapter two, Part one.
The house was quiet, so I just assumed that Charlie
was still asleep. I decided to get cleaned up and
have a shower. Not even a knock on the door
when Charlie walked in with ease typical. I thought it
was an easy way for Charlie to break the ice.
You really are as beautiful as Ron said as he
opened the curtain, watching me rinse myself off in the shower,
and me knowing I had no way out of this
except to go along with whatever you wanted. I just
looked down at the mention of Ron's name, wondering what
else he had told Charlie about me, realizing later that
he wouldn't have said anything anyways, in fear I would
have been damaged product that wouldn't make him the money
that young girls go for. He just sat on the
side of the vanity and continued to take observation of
me standing submerged under the falling water. I avoided looking
at him and let him do all the talking. After all,
I knew that what I had to say was of
no importance. That if he was anything like ron. Between
the water beating down over my head, I could slightly
hear him ramble on about some club and restaurant he
owned in Fort Lauderdale. He said he was going to
take me shopping for some club outfits and we would
party together tonight. As if I was supposed to be
excited over this so called treat of his, I looked
up and gave him a quick smile, adding a compliant nod,
and turned my attention to turning off the faucets and
quickly grabbing my towel. I was falling so far from
who I used to be, shying away from my outgoing
personality to a quiet girl that didn't even recognize herself
in the mirror anymore. I dried myself off and looked
at the man standing between the doorway and me. He
was still watching me with a sleezy look on his face.
Now proceeded to move in my direction. Arms wide open,
he embraced me, running his hands up and down my
youthful curves, licking my neck in my ear lobes. Then
his large rough hands cut my small breasts and continued
downward to feel in between my legs. I knew I
had to get this over and done with as quick
as possible, but I was dreading this moment from the
second he greeted me at the door last night. I
fell to my knees and gave in to his demented perversions. Thankfully,
it didn't last too long before he climaxed and I
was allowed to get myself dressed and ready to go out.
I was nothing but money well spent. In his mind.
This was another extremely wealthy man with a completely new
set of wants and needs, asking a fourteen year old
girl to affectionately dote on sexual desires to a man
in his mid forties. I really hated myself these men,
and just about everything in my life had boiled up
to by this point. But I knew from a young
age that to survive in this harsh world, I would
have to do many things I would not willingly choose
to do. At the shops, he decided that he would
choose the clothes he paid for, which I might as
well have been declared a teenage prostitute, just like Ron.
He also liked it that way. The more degrading he
was to me, only proved his ownership of my body.
He bought me tiny cocktail dresses and skimpy outfits, which
I thought closely resembled the lingerie he'd also bought for
me to wear for him. I noticed that day that
he enjoyed parading me around the shopping mall and out
for lunch at Hooters, even joking with the waitress that
he'd like to buy her uniform because he thought he'd
look sexy on his new girlfriend. We arrived at his
two on one restaurant and club at around nine o'clock
in the evening. It was a revolving tower called Hot
Chocolates in downtown Fort Lauderdale. The food was delicious, and
for the first time since being with Ron, I ordered
a hefty meal with steak and mashed potatoes with a
scrumptious gravy smothered on top. Charlie ordered strong cocktails for
us both, and before I knew it, my head was
spinning and we were on the dance floor together. The
music blared in my head and the rhythm on my
body took over completely, forgetting about even dancing with Charlie
and letting the music take hold and work its magic.
It didn't do me any justice, though, as Charlie watched me,
imagining what pleasures lay in store for us later on,
taking me home before the club had even closed, he
just couldn't wait to indulge on exactly what he was
fantasizing on beforehand. Once back at his townhouse, he led
me upstairs into his bedroom and pushed me down in
the middle of the bed. The motions from the wavy
mattress made me dizzy and made me feel even drunker
when he lay on top of me, coming at me
like a hungered beast wanting to ravage his next meal.
It was intimidating. As he entered into me with a
forceful thrust, he moaned out in delectable heaves. I looked
away while he self indulged his own gratifying needs, using
my body as his instrumental pleasure. I only grew stronger
in my head, letting the hatred for men desires intensify.
All right, folks, we're gonna wrap up right here, and
in the next episode, we're gonna pick up where we
left off with chapter two. All of the information that
goes with this episode can be found in the description box.