Trafficked: The Terrifying True Story of a British Girl Forced into the Sex Trade by Sophie Hayes

satisfied I’d be understood.
    â€˜When you’ve given him the price,’ Kas told me. ‘He’ll either say “Get in” or he’ll drive off. If you get in, you ask “ Bocca or fica ?” – it means “Mouth or pussy?”’
    Just hearing the words made me feel sick with disgust, and I knew I couldn’t possibly say them – let alone do with a stranger the repulsive things Kas was talking about.
    As we drove down the road from his flat earlier that morning, I’d tried to memorise some landmarks, so thatI’d be able to get my bearings if I ever managed to escape. Now, though, I knew with absolute conviction that that was never going to happen. Kas had told me the night before, and again several times during the day, that if I tried to get away, he’d find me. He’d already hit me and pulled my hair so hard that great clumps of it had come away in his hand, and when he described how he’d ‘passed on’ to someone else a girl who’d proved to be ‘thick and stupid’, and told me he wouldn’t hesitate to do the same to me if I disobeyed or disrespected him, I had no reason not to believe him.
    In my ‘real’ life, I’d simply have said ‘No, I won’t do it’, and walked away from him. But I already seemed to have lost any ability I’d ever had to stand up for myself. The previous evening, Kas had snatched up my bag, taken out my mobile phone, passport and purse, which contained all my money and my credit card, and slipped them into his pocket. In doing so, he seemed to have taken control of my life, and I was completely powerless to do anything about it. I felt as though I was tumbling through space, unable to save myself and dreading the inevitable moment when I hit the ground.
    It was hard to believe that in just 24 hours I’d learned to be frightened of the man I’d thought was my best friend. I felt confused and disorientated, although in my mind there was still just one certainty: that he would stop at nothing to safeguard himself and get what he wanted, which meant that he wouldn’t hesitate to carry out histhreat to harm my little brothers if I defied or disobeyed him in any way.
    As we drove along the main road, Kas continued to give me instructions – although sometimes he could have been speaking a foreign language for all the sense I could make of what he was saying. Suddenly, my heart began to race as I realised he’d asked me a question. ‘Are you listening to me?’ he shouted. ‘Look at me, woman, when I’m talking to you.’ Before I had a chance to turn towards him, he reached across the car and hit the side of my head, smashing it against the window and sending a sharp pain shooting down through my neck and into my hunched shoulders.
    Although I was shocked and taken by surprise, I didn’t make a sound, and Kas just continued talking as though nothing had happened. ‘You must always have two packets of tissues, a packet of baby wipes and plenty of condoms,’ he said. ‘You never do it without using a condom and never, ever , anally.’ He looked disgusted as he added, ‘That would be wrong.’
    Wrong? Was that really the only part of it that he thought was wrong? I felt as though I was trapped in some surreal nightmare.
    â€˜The price you give them is for 15 minutes – maximum,’ he continued. ‘If they take longer, the cost is more. You never agree to go with someone to a house without telling me first. If you call or text me, you must immediately delete that call or text from your phone log. Do you understand?’
    â€˜Yes,’ I whispered. ‘But I’m frightened. What if someone hurts me? Please Kas, don’t make me do this. There must be some other way.’
    â€˜Who’s going to hurt you?’ he snapped, lifting his hands off the steering wheel so that I cringed back against the