The things Sara had endured day after day were slowly destroying her spirit. She often wished to disappear, but she didn't even have control over her own breath. It had been a year and a half since she was taken, but it felt like an eternity. And there was still time to go before she would be sold.
It was a nightmare. They would punish her, but always carefully—ensuring that no marks were left on her "perfect" skin.
"Quiet, obedient, submissive, and always beautiful for your master."
Those words echoed in Sara's subconscious. They had been engraved into her through endless repetition and conditioning. And though part of her had started to give in, another part still fought back.
Why had this happened to her?
She had already learned everything they demanded: how to walk gracefully, how to be physically pleasing, how to obey without hesitation. She had been trained to serve, no matter who or why. But her training wasn't over, and more suffering was sure to come.
She knew she wasn't alone. There were many other girls in that place, though none of them were allowed to speak to each other. The isolation was part of the indoctrination. "Perfect girls" weren't supposed to be social. They were supposed to belong only to the man who purchased them.
That's what the clients expected. The agency was known worldwide for offering beauty, obedience, and silence to the wealthiest aristocrats.
Not all girls survived the process. Some died, and when that happened, their bodies were quietly cremated—no records, no traces. Sara knew this. She was more observant than she let on. And if her captors ever found out how aware she was, they wouldn't hesitate to eliminate her.
So she acted like the others. Compliant. Empty. But inside, she suffered more deeply than most. They had instilled in her a fear of small, dark spaces—a fear they now used against her. She was often locked up, bound and blindfolded for hours.
She had forgotten what freedom felt like. Happiness was just a distant memory. Ever since her parents and older brother died, her life had been one long, painful descent.
No one was looking for her. No one knew where she was. That broke her heart more than anything else.
She had spent two full days tied to her bed in the cell, half-dressed and completely alone. She was tired of being treated like this. But every time she resisted, the punishments grew worse.
Sometimes she thought about giving up. Ending it all. But even she didn't understand what kept her going. Perhaps one last spark of hope. Or maybe just fear.
She especially hated Katty—the woman who ran the place. There was something deeply twisted about her obsession with Sara. She always found an excuse to be near, always trying to break what remained of Sara's will.
Even though the agency only sold girls to men, Katty didn't seem to follow the same rules.
But one afternoon, Katty entered Sara's cell with a look of surprise on her face.
—You have a potential buyer, Sara —she said—. An important client has requested a seventeen-year-old girl as a gift for his son. Of all the girls we have, you're the only one ready to be sold.
Sara didn't react. She had learned to mask her emotions perfectly. She didn't even look at her.
Katty came closer. Even her presence made Sara shiver. Disgust and fear still pulsed through her body.
—I'll miss our time together —Katty said with a crooked smile—. But work is work. Just remember: if you're returned as a defective product, what you've suffered so far will seem like mercy. Keep that in mind.
Then she left, instructing the guards to prepare Sara for her transfer.
Sara's breathing became shallow. She wanted to cry out, to scream, but she couldn't. The panic was overwhelming.
She was untied and taken to the beauty room, where they would prepare her for delivery to her future "owners."