I had no sooner opened my bedroom door when I heard Lynda down the hall. “Hey sweetheart, why don’t you take me to bed and make me feel good?”, ...he asked. I look up and she was standing in my mother’s bedroom door dressed only in a pink tank top and pink lace panties. She was slowly rubbing her left breast with her right hand. At that moment, she reminded me so much of my mother it was uncanny. I didn’t contemplate the question long. Since I had been to bed with my mother then why not her. “Jane please, oh my god, Jane, fuck. Please show me your tits, they’re so fucking nice and I need to see them, Jane please, please, please-”Jane smiled wide, hooking her fingers under each arm of her dress and pulling it down over her dark lace bra, the material clung tightly to her, framing the delicate softness of Jane’s prodigious chest, a sight that Sarah had long let herself fantasise about, without ever believing she’d lay her eyes on it.Jane reached around to her back, pushing her chest. Marie had already talked to Jane and warned her about the danger of having sex with Brad, but although she promised her mother that she was still a virgin, and that she had no intention of having sex with Brad, Marie were still worried because she knew how easy it is to allow hormones to take control, and logic and reason to vanish in the heat of lust.The thought of Brad getting Jane pregnant grew even stronger when Marie saw them together when they did not know she could see.They were sitting. They lead you up on stage by a leash, totally naked, have you turn and give a show. Then there are a few numbers shouted, and then you're sold. You're an object to satisfy an owner. I barely even remember the name my parents gave me now. All I can remember is "slut" and "whore," occasionally "cunt." Training has been long and arduous. They drove out my individuality. They made me a sex toy.I don't know who bought me. The spotlights in my eyes blocked my vision. But within a second of the word.