It was the same night after night. Men would come and go, while she lay on her back, or sat on her hands and knees pretending to cum. It was her job, the only job she had known since her family sold her into prostitution. She was lucky, she got to work in the most beautiful and highest priced brothel in town. She was not hurt for money. She had tried before to leave, but always seemed to find herself coming back. She knew...

It was March. I had been with my boy friend for three years. It seemed like an eternity. I was getting sick of the sex. While he pleasured himself in me, I was feeling nothing. I went to the bar that night. Only for a drink. To get my mind off of what was happening with him. It was a long week of fights and slamming doors, crying calls to my mom. I had no idea what to do. Three shots, and a bunch of tears later I saw her....