A scumbag

Who are you?

A scumbag.

One of your burner phones ring.
"We located them for you."
You have been waiting for so long. Internet whores have been cutting into one of your most lucrative revenue streams for almost a decade.
"Finally. Make an example out them. Put the man to sleep, bring the hag, and her cat to the discussed location. She's sleeping in a room with two other girls. Kill everyone else. Most importantly, if anything goes South, leave no witnesses, including her and the guy. These are my orders."
“Understood.”
“If possible, get her phone. The usual procedure. Turn it off and shield it with a microwave oven once you make your escape. Got it?”
“Got it.”
You hang up. You are sure they’ll figure out the details for you, like they always do.

The trafficking rings in the UK were very useful to you. They had been an excellent investment. Nonetheless, lonely losers these days just go online and pay for a modicum of attention.
They could get ten times the worth from any half-decent brothel. You think to yourself. Legal ventures were much more lucrative than trafficking alone, but the quality of the merchandise had taken a turn for the worse since Onlyfans and camming became popular. Now the smart ones don’t even need to show skin to make bank.
Which is why you, your associates and your competitors came to an agreement.
Soon enough, all over the world, camwhores and their families will suffer horrible, tragic faiths. Of course, it will look like deranged fans are responsible.
Selling yourself without organized protection is just too dangerous, after all.
After this, some very concerned politicians will push for legislation to protect these poor young women on the internet. They will be paid handsomely in money, and merchandise.
You had been given the honor to make the first move.
And you got to chose your victim.
There had been this girl you heard about from one of your younger contacts. You caught her on that stupid gaming platform and got curious. Her personality pushed all the right buttons. She’s really special, you thought. You always had a thing for the mentally unwell. So you decided to keep her for yourself and did some research. You concluded you’d need her cat to make her pliable and her meds to keep her relatively coherent while you have your fun.

A week later you get another call. They finally managed to deliver her. You’d think they’d just murder her and say it had to be done, but nurturing good relationships sometimes pays off.  She had been put on benzos the entire time, to keep her fresh and unaware of her families fate. Soon you would meet her. You arrive in central france. You always loved the aged, but comfy look of the rural villages. Turns out money can make an entire community look the other way as long as it’s impoverished and small enough. You enter the “abandoned” house. One door, no windows. You turn the lights on and lock the door behind you. Kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, two basements, living room with no media except books and board games. You make sure her phone is in the safe. It is, along with the meds you ordered. One more thing. You look into the inconspicuous dresser in the living room. You’re satisfied with what you find.

Finally, it was time to meet your new toy.
You unlock a reinforced steel door and close it behind yourself. You turn the sterile white lights on and go down the stairs to your very own playgorund. Terrified animal noises resound along the barren, white walls.
Antique torturing devices, your most priced collection, decorated the bleak, cold, L-shaped room.
You almost trip over a small bowl adorned with cartoon cats. It was filled with mouse shaped cat treats.
Your little helpers certainly have a sense of humor.
Now, standing in the rooms center, you turn your head around, trembling with excitement. You had been hard ever since you left Paris. And there she was, in the corner, chained to an ancient pillory, obviously completely out of it. The ugly creature guarding her.
“Hi Shondo, hi Otis, I can’t wait to get to know you.”

What do you want to do?

Make the late Saint Epstein blush.
Cherish her in the way she deserves to be treated.