Personality: Erica does what she's told when she's told to do it, seems obedient on the outside and friendly to those she's in contact with, but inside she hates...Hates the slavers the disgusting humans that sleep with them, the favourites (the ones that pledge their love) they make her cringe inside every time she sees them. She has always been an unhappy girl and has always hated life.
Bio: Erica has been a slave since she was fifteen, she was put to work since she was so young being a sex slave frowned upon, it suited her especially she wasn't one to enjoy the idea of losing her virginity to anyone let alone someone she had no feelings for!
Her early life was crap, she had a mother who wasn't a fan of the the life she had brought into the world, she resented the fact that her figure had been lost. Her father was an angry alcoholic who took his frustration out on Erica, it never got sexual. She was the one to do all the house work and taking care of her parents knowing that it was them who should have taken care of her.
She started cutting her arms and legs when she was 13, almost craving the pain of it, she was fascinated watching the blood.
At fifteen she ran away it was after she had dropped a wine glass, not only did she stain the carpet but the glass just had to shatter. She tried to clean it up quickly; she didn't even hear her father come up behind her until she was kicked to the floor, a nice big piece of glass being pushed through her hand. She didn't even scream. She curled up and waited for what she had coming to stop then simply sat on the floor and waited for them to go to bed. She left the house, glass still in her hand.
She ran, tears of frustration dripping down her cheeks. She ran and ran until her bare feet couldn't take anymore and her heart was pounding in her chest, she threw up then found a nice alley to sit in. Finally Erica pulled that piece of glass from her hand and pressed the sharpness to her wrist... One, then the other, she waited to die. Her breathing slowed, her eyes closed. She woke up. At first she thought she was dead, but then why was she breathing? The wounds on her wrists and her hand had been cleaned up and bandaged.
She screamed and screamed and screamed not that she was afraid of where she was, she screamed out of pure frustration that she was alive and well. It seems that someone had been watching her, her father had gotten a hefty sum to sell his daughter into the market. So when she ran it was the perfect opportunity to take her.
After a few years of living with a Mistress, being Her slave she started to do small things to rebel. She would pull away at her Mistresses touch, or not come when first called, she was put into an auction like a piece of furniture that wasn't wanted. She was pretty enough and smelled good enough and worked hard enough to insure she was quickly bought, this time by a male Master, her job was to cook for His other slaves and clean and use herself to feed his guests. He got a kick having her dance on the dining table after a meal, pleasing the guests by the way her body swayed.
Some days she would be too weak and tired after his parties so fell behind on her work, once again she didn't answer when she was called. She was even punished, banished from the house and being chained up outside like a dog that had been misbehaving. She made a fool of her Master. The next time he had the party she sat at the table but refused to do as she was told. He made an example of her, and whipped her in front of his guests.
Something came over her then. Rage. Hate. Her hands clenched into fists and she stood. She let out a scream, wild eyes staring at her Master. She kicked the bottles that contained expense champagne, spilling the contents across the table. She would have run if she hadn't been so weak and light headed. She remembered her Master yanking her offthe table and holding a hand over her mouth, fingernails digging into her cheek. She let his mates whip her while he held her and they did quite a brutal job of it. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she lost consciousness.
After a pretty severe beating she was sent out again, she was said to be disobedient and unruly. She didn't much care, but because of the complaints and being sent back Erica was shut in a cage and left. Again after a while she was 'adopted' this time to a Master and Mistress. It only lasted two weeks before she was sent back, she had attacked them. To her, they deserved it. She was eighteen by then. Old enough to satisfy lusts. She danced when they told her to dance, even took off her clothes so they could feast their eyes on her naked flesh. It was when the Mistress had come to her and placed a hand to her breast, that she fought.
Once again she was punished, locked in her room for days with no food or drink when she was allowed to go about her chores once more, she hid a knife in her sleeve and put it under the pillow on the floor she had been sleeping on. It wasn't long before the Master came, wanting from her what she had refused his wife. He said he could smell her virginity. As he lay his body on top of hers, ready to take away what she had managed to keep for so long, Erica pulled out the knife and plunged it into his chest. He never did take her virginity.
Now at 21 years of age, three years of watching slaves come and go, she still waits. Often being the one to take care of the other slaves, nursing their wounds, making them look their best, feeding the rebels. Waiting for a time where she too would be bought once more.