Denise sat in the corner, up on the back of the chair, on display as the men walked around the room. In each of the other corners was another woman, each one just as exposed as she was.
One of the men milling about came up in front of her and rubbed his chin before speaking to the man with a clipboard beside him, “Kind of an interesting one here, what’s her background?” he asked.
The man with the clipboard flipped over several sheets of paper before answering, “Says she was a university professor if you can believe it. Social sciences of some kind.”
Denise could dimly remember that, though it was hard through the fog of lust that clouded her mind almost all the time. Just like she could still just remember when her husband had given her the little pink pill in her morning coffee that had changed almost everything about her. It had stripped years off her age, toned her body, inflated her lips and tits and made her so horny that she could barely make out what he’d said to her before the biggest orgasm of her life.
“Do we know how many pills she’s already had?” the man asked and the other man looked at his sheet again.
“The owner says three, and that seems about right from her previous statistics. Though you can never tell for sure.”
“Three’s not too bad, should be able to get another one or two in her before she becomes a complete vegetable if she was a professor before.”
“Yes, I’d say so.”
“Good, put me down for 500. I’m always looking for a unique look for my brothels, she should fit in fine after another pill.”
“Done. Would you like to view some of the other rooms? I think there is a girl in room twelve that might interest you.”
“Lead the way…”
The two men left and Denise was both happy and disappointed. Disappointed that neither had fondled her or used her, happy that they had put a bid in on her as that means she was diffidently going to get purchased, and therefore used, by someone before the day was out.
