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My parents were nice folks. Religious, never mean, raised southern and polite. That's why when they sold me off it was so strange. 

It was yesterday and my dad and I were sitting in the living room watching the telly, when the doorbell rang. My dad seemed to be a bit anxious, and he went to go open the door. It was a man-just a couple years older than I. My dad just hugged me and said he loved me, and pushed me to the man. 

Later, I would find out that was Justin. 

He took me roughly and pushed me into the car. Not a gentle push, either. A rough, mean push. I stumbled into the car and he shut it behind me, and walked to the backseat, for he had a  driver. 

"You can go any fuckin' time!" He shouted at the driver, and we left. When we got to his huge house, he pulled me out of the car by my hair. "If you ever try to fucking leave, I will kill you." He said angrily in a hushed tone. Tears roll out of my eyes. "Stop crying, for fucks' sake." He drug me to his front door and pressed his finger against a small screen, unlocking the door. He pushed me onto the floor and I sobbed. "Shut the fuck up!"

"Please, what's happening? Just let me go! I swear, I won't say anything!" I sobbed heavily. He kicked me. Hard. I thought my ribs had broken. 

"Shut the hell up and listen. I'm not letting you go. Stop crying and we can talk like normal fucking people, and I can tell you what the fuck's going on and give you some simple ass rules!" I quiet myself a bit, and Justin grabs my arm and pulls me to the couch. His rules weren't simple like he said. I mean, they were clear, but not simple. "Rule number one," He begins. I try to tune him out but catch snippets like 'must not be on the pill' and 'it'll hurt' and 'spanking's allowed', which disgust me. It seems like I'm his...sex slave, now. 

I'm Justin Bieber's sex slave. 

But I'm a virgin. 


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