She bit her lower lip, eyes closed, while the man lifted her hips and pushed himself into her. She laid on her back, perpendicular to the side of the bed, with her bottom hanging in midair. He gave no consideration to her whatsoever and went on with his business, pounding against her like his life depended on it.

Soon enough, she felt his orgasm pulse inside her and was promptly pushed away, left to her own devices. She twisted her foot to prop herself a little further towards the middle of the bed.

"I hope you liked your stay."

"Shut up, whore."

Ignoring the insult, she tilted her head to the side, trying to look as seductive as she could. Pushing her shoulder blades together, she arched her back to make her chest look bigger and writhed under his watchful eyes while he pulled his pants back up.

He scoffed, his sexual drive having left his body along with his semen, and stared down at her with disdain. "Pitiful."

She spoke just as he faced away. "I'll gladly be, if that is what you wish."

Turning back, he slapped her across the face. Her ashen hair flew along with the impact. She took a second to breathe deeply before facing him again, composed, and grinned maliciously. She licked the corner of her mouth and tasted blood.

He wiped his hand on his vest, like he touched a poisonous plant. "Know your place, scum." He walked away, leaving the door ajar behind him.

As soon as he was out of her sight, Zoey twisted on her side and brought her hips forward, doing the best she could to roll up in a ball. Tears rolled uncontrollably over the ridge of her nose and down her cheek as she allowed herself a moment out of character. She moved her foot to and fro against the sheets, being comforted by the motions of her only limb. Hearing someone walk up the corridor, she quickly wiped her face and let herself roll on her stomach, then twisted her hips halfway through the fall to chain another rotation, managing to swing herself up on her other side before finally easing onto her back. The pillows now within her reach, she craned her neck and bit the corner of the one closest to her, yanking it in her direction. She arched her back and pushed her head down into the mattress to slide her shoulders to the right, propped up in an angle against the pillow.

Again, she twisted her hips rightwards to lift herself on her side, then quickly rotated the opposite way. Again laying on her stomach, she dug her face in the pillow and tensed her entire body to inch her hips closer to her face. When she thought she had gained enough ground, she repositioned her head and plowed again, tensed again, inched again. Laboriously, progress was made until her shoulders and breasts rested against the pillow as well. From there, she anchored her foot on the mattress and pushed, with the help of her head, to bring herself upwards at long last. Claire showed up at the door carrying a fresh change of sheets, unaware of the war Zoey had just waged against her own body.

Without a word, Zoey was shoved in a recliner while Claire prepared the bed for the next client. With gravity doing its work, semen soon started gooping out of her vagina, soiling the chair.

“Um.. Claire?” She looked down at herself, shrugging her armless shoulders in anticipation of her reaction.

“What’s with the….” She sighed. “Can’t you do anything by yourself? Here, sit on this.”

Her teeth snapped on the empty air, failing to catch the dirty rag Claire had thrown at her. It fell on the recliner before her, so close, yet still out of her reach. She strained her foot towards it as far as she could but ended up rocking her hips forward instead, waddling until they rested on top of the rag. Moments later, Claire came around to wipe her down and clean the mess she had made before carrying her over to another room. This one had been set up like a studio à la mode, along with a beige couch, earth-colored cushions, and abstract art pieces. She set Zoey down in the middle of it all, still completely naked.

“Okay so…” Claire pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. “Your next client is a man, obviously, mid-thirties, is here to fuck a crippled freak, end quotes, and paid for 15 minutes. Think you can manage that?”

She ran her fingers through Zoey’s hair and sent them to her right, the latter tilting her head to let them cascade down to her breast. “It’s what I do best.” She rotated her left shoulder backwards to send a tickling lock of hair out of her way. “Are you dressing me again for him or I’m naked when he walks in?”

“It doesn’t say, so I’ll save everyone some time and leave you like this. Good luck, buttercup.”

Zoey waved the small foot articulating out of her right hip without a word. Channeling all of her strength through it, she pushed down and waddled back on the couch to make herself more comfortable.

It wasn't long until her next client showed up at the door. He knocked for good measure, waiting for Zoey's answer before making his way inside. Black squeaky shoes, matching dark blue pants and overcoat, worn over a simple white button up shirt. His hair was short, combed and well kept.

Unlike the previous room, this one was brightly lit, which allowed her full awareness over her surroundings. She had always thought the pitch must have been a sunny afternoon in a chic studio with big windowed walls, but instead came through as a 2005 neon-lit office space.

Unsure of her role with this newcomer's plan, she waited for him to usher the first words. When his eyes fell on her body, she made her best efforts to look as appealing as she could. Being limbless rendered her list of possible options quite short, however. Again, she bit down on her lower lip, this time worming her body towards him, alternately throwing her breasts forward and rubbing her groin against the couch.

He sneered at her. "Did they cut your tongue, too?"

Taken aback, Zoey answered out of character. "Excuse me?"

"No arms, no legs, I was starting to wonder if they cut off your tongue as well." He kneeled and meticulously untied his shoes before stepping out of them. “It’s a shame, then.”

She cleared her throat and flicked her head to the side. "Oh no, nothing was cut sweety. I was born this way. Which means these," she shrugged her shoulders, swung them forward and back, "these," she shimmied to shake her breasts, "and even this." She pointed her foot towards him and wiggled the three toes that lived on it. "Are 100% naturally formed. What would you…"

"Shhhhhh…" He placed a finger on her lips. "You’ll have to pretend."

He ran his hand down her chest and past her navel, tracing random paths across her mound. His thumb ventured down onto her clitoris, teasing her, filling her concise body with electricity. She breathed deeply and threw her head over the back rest, letting her rump curve towards him.

He pushed his index and middle finger between her lips, feeling the warmth of her insides against his skin. She let out a long contented sigh and moaned softly. Pressing his palm against her mound, he moved his fingers in and out rhythmically, taking time to stimulate her lubricated clitoris when he felt she had caught her breath. She writhed under his grasp, his other hand firmly set on the back of her neck.

Her breasts almost leveled with his face, she arched her back to suggest giving them a taste. Without wasting any time, he stuck her nipple in his mouth and suckled on it delicately, circling her areola with his tongue. He reached for her other breast with his free hand, letting his fingers brush softly against her skin, appreciating its shape, its weight. He played her like a piano, reading off of an invisible sheet of music. He rolled her nipple between two fingers at first,p then grabbed her breast intensely and kissed the other, taking a deep breath of her sweaty skin, moistened by his valiant efforts. Incapable of answering his advances, Zoey squirmed like an eel, rocking her hips to maintain her balance.

She lowered her head, thirsty for a visual contact, but her client had other ideas. His fingers still inside her, he stopped his comings and goings and pushed them deeper still. Zoey gasped and, toppling forwards, fell in his arms. He toyed with her like a living doll, stimulating upwards where he thought his movement had the most impact on her breathing. The toes on her foot were as restless as the rest of her. First clenched, then stretching outwards, as if tip-toed, then clenched again. He quite liked looking at it, realizing it was her only true hold on the world that unfolded around them. He wrapped a hand around her slender foot and pulled her hips towards him until she laid flat on her back.

Standing back up, she shivered when he left her chest exposed, the air feeling cold on her wet skin, but he immediately warmed her again, using both hands to bury his face between her ample breasts. He slid his hands up her sides and onto her armless shoulders, Zoey craning her neck to accept a vicious kiss.

She felt his jacket against her foot and remembered he still had his clothes on while she was completely naked, which gave the impression that she was the client, and he the employee. She managed to laugh despite his tongue mingling with her own and how out of breath she felt.

She knew his dick penetrated her before she could even see it and moaned, relishing the tenderness with which he kept touching her. Hands on her waist, a knee on the floor, he pushed his hips against hers, her body receiving each of his thrusts like a tremor that shook and pushed her back on the couch more and more. Feeling far away from him, she squirmed pointlessly/ineptly, wishing he could read her mind and bring them closer together still.

He muttered something under his breath that she didn't care to hear, grasped her neck and tugged her upwards. They stood up, pressed against one another, and he fell deeper still inside her. She winced when he bumped her cervix and cursed at herself for letting it show through. For once, a client was making her feel good, and she wasn’t ready for it to end soon. He pinned her against the cold wall of the room and fingered her clitoris again, causing her abdomen to spasm, clenching her vaginal muscles around his dick, grabbing on to it for dear life.

She moaned louder, screaming almost, right until he stopped and began pegging her once more. He reads me like an open book, she thought. She had never being edged so many times by a client in a single sitting, never mind a new one. He grabbed her breasts, pushing them together, his face drowning between them. His pace slowed down and she knew he had to be close, because she was too. She hadn’t been treated this way for so long. In this moment, she felt less like a slave and more like an object of desire, a unique piece, a specialty product consumed lavishly by a connoisseur. For them to orgasm together would be the ultimate catharsis for both of them, bringing to Zoey’s life a meaning that she many times had failed managed to seize.

“Come one baby, don’t slow down, you’ve almost got me…” She spoke softly in his ear, lovingly brushing against it.

Something inside him grinded backwards, making a dent in his excitement. “I TOLD you to shut up!” He spoke in a dead serious tone, stopped what he was doing.

Still in the fumes of her own imagination, Zoey answered groggily. “What’s wrong?”

“I told you to play the mute girl, couldn’t you even handle that part right?”

"Oh I'm… I'm sorry I didn't mean to break the mood." She looked down at them, still joined against the wall. His hands had left her breasts and barely supported her anymore. “I won’t do it again.”

“Now it’s too late.” He sighed and punched the wall right beside her head. “For fuck’s sake…”

She could feel his erection shrinking inside her, the orgasm she had just felt within her reach now long gone. She stretched her foot towards him, managing to grab a fold of his unzipped pants, and tugged on it.

“I give you 10 minutes for free, on me.” She rocked her hips, unsure about her balance in this position. “I know you liked what we…”

“That’s it, that’s fucking it. Fucking time wasted…”

He pulled out and put her back on the couch, carelessly tossing her on her stomach. She wormed with all her strength, somehow controlling the bounce that would’ve sent her falling to the ground. Before she could turn around, he was already dressed and heading out.

“The ad was right, you really can’t do anything properly. Can’t walk, can’t shut the fuck up.”

From the other side of the door he slammed shut, she could hear the muffled sound of argumentation. What was her punishment gonna be today? No food was certainly on the menu, as it often was with unsatisfied clients. She twisted her hips and let herself fall to the ground, the foot catching half the weight of her fall. Doing so would at least prevent the couch from getting wet with her discharge and she hoped it would help her case against her boss. It was all going so well not even 2 minutes ago… She cursed at herself under her breath. The feeling of being worth something, the epitome of control for her client, they had left a gaping hole in her guts. Secretions and cum dripped out of her. She once again felt deserving of what she was : a slave.

Claire busted through the door. “Why did you have to open your fucking mouth again?!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know he wanted me to play mute!”

“He said he told you to!”

“Well it wasn’t obvious enough I guess!” She threw her shoulders forward, swung her foot down. “He can’t really complain he fucked me alright, he did like he wanted! He edged me like three times, he can’t say I wasn’t receptive!”

“I don’t care how receptive you were. Bob is giving him a refund.”

“What the hell?!” She shouted at the top of her lungs.

“ENOUGH!” Claire stepped forward, her hand raised, ready to strike. Zoey recoiled preemptively, tucking her head between shrugged shoulders. “That’s more like it. Now you stay right where you are while I go and prep your next client. The last thing I want is to clean up a goopy snail trail all around the room.”

The door slammed shut again. Zoey hunched her back, trying to hold on to the last bits of eroticism she had left in her hips, but soon gave up, laying back against the front of the couch. She was so… Tired. Physically and mentally exhausted. Tired of being nothing more than this. If she wasn't so afraid of death, she would've bit off her tongue to choke on her own blood a long time ago.

The scene with her client kept playing on a loop inside her head. He did tell her to pretend, but that was hardly a direct order. They had a misunderstanding, that's all it was, she thought. She would explain the whole thing and Bob would understand, she was sure of it, or at least what she wanted to believe. Zoey had been used and abused like this for so long now that she had a hard time evaluating her interactions with others. Words lost their meaning, ideas blurred in her mind. Oftentimes when she thought she had a good point, people would simply shut her down without giving her a chance to speak her mind, letting her feeling like she had been wrong the entire time. This could again well be one of those times.

She rolled her shoulders like a heavy weightlifter, seconds before a big lift, to give herself some energy back. She kept repeating her lines inside her head, trying to convince herself that she was right, like a fish with amnesia trying to remember an address.

The service door opened behind her.

"What am I going to do with you Zoey.." Bob sounded disappointed, like he often did, although she knew he probably had the biggest grin across his face.

"Listen Bob." She twisted her neck to look at him, unbothered by her nakedness. "I know you've already made your decision to reimburse him, but at least let me explain."

“Not this time, Zoey." He sighed and moved to face her. "Everytime something happens with a client there’s always an explanation. There's always something and somehow it's never your fault. If I heard it once, I heard it a thousand times.”

“You have no idea what happens when I’m alone with a client, do you? All you care about is your own profit.”

“You’re right about that, I don’t know and I don’t care. That part is your job and yours only. My job is bringing in money, but how much more am I going to lose because of you? I can’t keep giving refunds, Zoey. It’s the third time this month already.”

"Maybe if your clients weren’t so retarded. Like the fat guy last week who said I was too passive." Twisting her torso, she shrugged her shoulders as if to gesture around her, a look of incomprehension on her face. "Did he even look at me? What was he expecting me to do, a backflip?”

“Again Zoey, blaming the client before yourself. Such a shame.”

“And you defend him! You could’ve taken my side for once and listened to my version of the story.” She scoffed and licked the corner of her lips where the blood had finished drying. Her shoulder wiped the rest of it. “Okay then. What are you going to do, fire me? You would do me a favor." She tapped the side of her foot on the floor, meaning to look assertive.

He chuckled. "I can't fire you, I own you. You should consider yourself lucky I pulled you out of the slum where you used to live. I put a roof over your head, gave you a nice bed, and even feed you free of charge everyday of the week. What is there more to ask? I never get the shadow of a thanks from you."

"How about some dignity? She looked down at herself and rolled her neck, stiffened by years of staring up at others. “How about I get to have some clothes on when I'm talking to someone else? I am not a piece of meat!'

"As a matter of fact, you are. We have talked about this many times already. There's no shame in showing off your assets, my little nugget, for what little you have is more than many could wish for. But if that’s all you need, I can throw a shirt on the bed and let you fight against it. I’m sure I could film it and sell the footage to a pretty hefty price."

She jerked her left shoulder up and down, shaking her head. “That's what I mean. I’m a human being, Bob! You can’t do this to someone! I might not have limbs but I’m not a dog! You can’t just keep me locked in here forever. It’s cruel and illegal.”

They both knew these words meant little to him and she felt ridiculous just saying them out loud. Bob slowly kneeled before her to speak in her ear. “And what are you gonna do about it, sugarplum?”

While the intensity of their stares was evenly matched, Zoey’s nakedness made the situation absurd, out of place. Out of spite, he reached out to caress her breast with a hand devoid of tenderness. She jerked her shoulder away from him, contracting her core to transfer the motion down her torso and into her hips.

“Get off me, Bob.” She tried to pull back again but he only squeezed harder on her boob. Her foot folded against her in an unconscious attempt to cover herself. “Let go!” She squirmed harder, groaning and sniffling, her limbless shoulders and pelvis failing to be of any use.

He grabbed her by the neck, preventing her from falling to the ground. “Make me.” He grinned, wider than before, a sick look plastered across his face.

She shook her head to fix her hair, angrily pouting her lips. He let go of her breast and pressed his palm against her right shoulder as she kept on squirming and worming. He didn’t long for her body like some of her regular clients, yet he still relished feeling just how much control he could have over her.

“That’s what I…”

Her spit flew directly into his left eye. Terror flashed in her eyes in realisation and before she could even pull her tongue back into her mouth, he let his hand fly free, knocking the wind out of her and throwing her limbless body on her side. He burrowed his fingers in her hair to pull her upwards again, tilting her head back to expose her slender neck. He took a whiff of her scent and ran his tongue from in-between her breasts all the way up to her chin. She grinded her teeth and shivered.

"Like I was saying ; That's what I thought." He let go of her hair and hit her cheek so hard with his lips that she toppled again. Bob watched her breasts bounce as she collapsed, not paying attention to her head slamming against the floor. “I hope you take that as a lesson. You’re never getting out of here. As far as you're concerned, you belong to me.” Their attention soon turned towards the service door, where Claire had made her entrance. “Perfect timing. Poor little Zoey here fell down in shame over her mistake with her client. Would you be so kind as to freshen her up a bit?"

He stood back up and left the room as quietly as he had entered it. Laying in an angle on her breasts, Zoey twisted her hips to flip over on her back, obscuring her face with a maelstrom of tangled silver hair. Claire swiped a baby wipe on her crotch and slipped a clean thong up her hips, expertly lifting her rump with one hand and maneuvering the underwear with the other. Carried into Claire's arms once again, they proceeded through the inner corridors of the building for a minute before coming to a stop.

Zoey looked around them. "Why did…"

Shifting her to one side, Claire slid her phone out of her pocket. "Huh. Okay then." They pivoted and headed back the way they came, instead taking a sharp right turn into the employees' common area. "Change of plans."

"Weren't we going to see a new client?" Zoey shivered.

"You still are, but…" She sighed and put her phone away.

"But what?"

"Shut up, Zoey."

Zoey's eyes rolled. Why would anyone tell me anything, she thought.

They made their way into a private bathroom, one of which Zoey had never seen before. Apart from a normal toilet and tub, there was a jacuzzi, a make-up desk, and a wide walk-in shower. From what she could see, there were side jets, extendable hand-held shower heads, faucets near the floor, as well as a gigantic rectangular metallic headpiece hanging over the entire thing. When Claire turned it on, the tiled shower space turned into a storm of swirling water. Still sitting in Claire's arms, it splashed on Zoey and she shivered, shrugging to wipe the cold water off her naked skin.

By the time she set her on the ground and removed her thong, steam had begun spreading in the room. Claire stripped down to her sports bra and shorts while Zoey carefully made her way towards the shower. She squinted and held her breath as she waddled through the hot water, twisting her neck to angle her wet hair away from her face. Claire joined her and ran her fingers through her hair, massaging shampoo in her scalp, using her knee to prevent Zoey from falling over. Using a bottle of pomegranate scented body wash, she scrubbed every inch of Zoey’s body clean just like she did everyday, casually running over her genitals, up her stomach and breasts, and over her empty shoulders. This little routine was quite normal for Zoey, having lived her entire life with no limbs, but they never talked about it with Claire. Zoey figured she did it out of obligation, yet she remained meticulous in her work.

She splashed her foot around in the puddle that had formed around her hips while she was getting rinsed, relishing the hot water running across her skin. When the water slowly came to a stop, she was carried over to a reclined leather stool and wrapped in a thick towel while Claire took care of her hair.

Such luxury was unusual for Zoey. Not that was being actively neglected either, but bestowing upon her that much attention and care… she knew something was coming around the corner. But what?

A misplaced fold of her towel knotted against her back. She squirmed, hard at work to flatten it, while Claire left her field of view to rummage through the desks drawers. She shrugged, rolled her shoulders backwards, leaned forwards, shimmied, yet it survived ever still. She swung her head left and right to flick her hair back, once again failing at this simple task, and instead leaned back against the headrest, swallowing her pride and enduring her discomfort.

Claire came back to her wielding a simple black comb and a curling brush. Feeling her towel slipping away from around her, Zoey craned her neck and bit down on the nearest fold she could find, tugging it as high as she could by lifting her chin to the ceiling.

Her hair was blow dried, then delicately combed and brushed. Claire took great care putting up Zoey's long silver hair into a French braid. Using the pointed tip of her comb, she meticulously separated every lock of hair one by one, making sure none were left. She swirled it on the back of her head like a cinnamon bun, securing the entire thing with a scrunchy and bobby pins. Getting her hair taken care of was one of Zoey's favorite things. Something was definitely brewing.

Claire peeled the towel off her protegee's body and continued to prepare it. She massaged a soft lotion on her skin, lifting to reach beneath her bum, then contoured and mascaraed her eyes. Zoey had tried to do it herself a few times, but her tremendous efforts never did turn into an acceptable result. First manipulating the crayon with her mouth to angle it before her, then pushing her shoulder against it to aim at her own eyes, mostly using her neck muscles to position her eyes on the tip instead of the other way around. However, she always ended up poking her eyes with it, or losing control over the crayon before she could even reach her eye. And it took her forever to set-up again. They figured Claire would simply continue to do it herself.

With the recliner straightened and the towel removed, yet another fresh pair of panties were slipped on her buttocks and a clipless bra was fitted down her shoulders, perfectly supporting the weight of her chest. Zoey shimmied and squirmed, trying to fix the misplaced straps around her torso before Claire came to the rescue. She was lifted off the chair and was carried again, this time down the corridor to a stock room. Laid on a table before them were two things Zoey did not expect : a lavender short dress and a big cardboard box.

"Is anyone gonna tell me what this is all about?" She rolled her left shoulder nervously while she was being set down.

"No. Put this on." As much as it sounded like an order to Zoey, Claire was still the one to do all the work. She slowly fit Zoey's head through the collar so as not to mess up her hair and fixed the dress down her body.

She waggled a shoulder, moving the loose fabric to and fro. "The frills on the sleeves are certainly a weird choice..”

The short laced sleeves hung limply at her sides where arms should’ve filled and supported them. Claire walked around her and tightened the corset around her waist, pushing her breasts towards her throat and the air out of her lungs. While her figure was nothing to be ashamed of, the dress now highlighted every part of it. Her legless hips, wide and abundant, seemed even fuller thanks to the ruffling fabric flowing around them. Her waist, narrower than before, transitioned upwards to feature breasts that looked bigger than they were because of her lack of arms. She twisted her body to look at herself from the few angles she could achieve without falling over.

“And now for the present.”

Zoey’s stomach dropped when Claire lifted the top half of the box and placed her on the bottom half, delicately placing it over her head again without a word. Suddenly, everything went dark. She looked around, her braid thumping on the walls around her, and jumped when a door opened inside the stock room. What followed confused her. Crackling paper, scotch tape being rolled out and cut, people hard at work on her box… She swallowed through a dry throat.

“Hold on tight, if you can…” The voice was a man’s, but she couldn’t recognize it. He giggled and then grunted to lift her up. “You’re what I would call lightweight, aren’t you baby? Wish I could stay and take a peek inside myself…”

A yelp escaped Zoey’s lips. “Where are you taking me?” She looked up, blinking fast to keep tears from forming. “Answer me!” She was starting to panic.

“No need to yell, baby, we’re almost there. I suggest you shut it, it’ll make for a bigger surprise…”

With each of his steps, Zoey’s anxiety grew bigger. Everything sounded muffled from inside her box and she had no idea where they were heading. After a minute or two, she could hear the growing sounds of conversation. Rough, heavy with booze, loud. The box shifted in his hand and she almost collapsed backwards. A door opened and her ears imploded. Man, a woman, another woman.. three, four people she thought, or even more depending on the silent ones.

“Here’s the big surpriiiiiise!” Said one of them.

“Jessy said it was a house specialty, I can’t wait.” That was another person, Zoey was pretty sure of it.

“Can I open it?!” That woman sounded the drunkest of them all. Her voice rose in pitch as she spoke, losing control over her own speech. “It’s my birthday after all.”

“Be my guest, Kathy. Be - my - guest.”

Zoey took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She could hear the woman’s fingers clawing at the box as clearly as if it was Zoey’s own head. Being encompassed inside it muffled the voices, but amplified everything that touched the cardboard directly. At first, she tried to peel off the scotch tape but soon gave up and started tearing through the paper. When the box had been removed from around her, even the dim light of the room felt blinding.