The beautiful game - Part 2 - Remastered 01

Chapter 1 – Working girl

Two months had passed since the terrifying conversation with Marko at his club and Milos was still feeling the after-effects. It was the beginning of August and instead of having spent the last few weeks going through pre-season with the team, increasing fitness levels and getting the girls ready for the season ahead, Milos was stood in Sonja’s apartment staring at his surgically altered body in the mirror.

It had taken a long time to come to terms with what Marko had done to him, both physically and mentally, and even now he couldn’t get used to the image of the curvy blonde looking back at him in the mirror.

He now had a body that wouldn’t look out of place on the front cover of an adult magazine and staring at his body, he knew his old life was over. He was no longer Milos Ivanovic, football coach, he was now stuck as Milena Ivanovic but not Milena Ivanovic the footballer superstar, that wouldn’t have been so bad and his current predicament, he would have given almost anything to go back and adopt that life once more.

Having just finished applying his makeup for the evening, Milos examined his face with a blank emotionless expression, his swollen blood-red lips shining thanks to a generous coating of lip gloss and his eyes looking wide and doe-like framed by feathery mascara laden lashes.

The surgeries hadn’t completely altered his facial features, but they definitely made them look softer and more delicate giving him an almost doll-like appearance.

As much as he hated what Marko had done to his face as Milos looked down to examine his outfit in the mirror, he shook his head and felt a wave of emotion that made him want to burst out in tears.

His tanned and toned arms and shoulders were completely bare which only drew the eye towards the huge beachball like bouncy mounds beneath his tiny floral patterned top. Gone were the days of padded bras as the massive implants, always at the forefront of his thoughts, jigging and constantly pulling his body off balance. an ever-present reminder of what he had lost.

Breathing in and then out he watched wide-eyed as the massive amount of cleavage on display above the sweetheart neckline of his top heaved up and down in time with his breaths.

The top Sonja had picked out for him was also extremely short finishing just above his navel where his exposed, scarily thin waist looked back at him.

Scanning down further, the large shiny buckle of his tight black suede skirt caught his eye before his eyes continued down watching as the skirt curved outwards following the lines of his enlarged backside thanks to the butt implants. At this point, the sight of his busty hourglass figure wasn’t new to him but even so his reflection each time he looked in the mirror never failed to shock him.

Having seen enough, Milos spun away from the mirror, feeling the familiar arched position of his feet inside the clumpy gold and white wedge pumps he had slipped on for the evening. Seeing his phone on the vanity, he snatched at it like a bird of prey catching a mouse with his long acrylic nails.

For whatever reason he was now required to send Marko a picture every couple of hours, perhaps to keep tabs on him or perhaps he just got off on it, Milos had no idea, but what he did know was that he didn't have a choice in the matter.

After snapping a few selfies, he opened the gallery to choose the best one, stopping on one picture, in particular, taken a few days earlier by Sonja, and went red with embarrassment.

In the picture, he stood nervously trying to imitate the sexy pose he had been shown. In his mind, he just looked awkward and embarrassed perched on a pair of sky-high pumps, dressed in what he was told was a dress but in reality, was more like a long top or sleepwear as it hardly even covered his panties and left his plump backside completely exposed.

(See image 1.1)

Milos pouted and shook his head in disgust as a mass of blonde hair cascaded over his shoulders and fell in front of his face. Brushing the hair back over his shoulders, he quickly skipped past the picture and located the one’s he had just taken. Not in the mood to examine them and chose the best one, he just selected the first one he came across and sent it to Marko before tottering over to his little seat by the window where he often sat staring out on the city beneath.

He was still in his old bedroom in Sonja’s apartment as Marko had at least allowed him to remain living there, but perhaps it would have been kinder to move him somewhere else like the other two girls who lived there, having been told to pack up their things and move out.

He now lived with Sonja, and another woman named Olga who Marko had moved in to chauffeur him about and keep an eye on him in case he decided to run away, not that he had anywhere to go, dreading the thought of going back out on to the street looking like he now did.

Sonja was still her bitchy awful self, constantly reporting back to Marko if he did the slightest thing she didn’t approve of. She had just started training with the wolves after fully recovering from her injury and loved nothing more than to rub Milos' nose in the fact any chance she got, talking about how fun training was and how much she was looking forward to the season ahead.

Milos just tried to ignore her, he was now essentially a prisoner in his own life with no say in what he wore, did, or the places he went. he knew from experience, arguing with Sonja just made things worse so he had resigned himself to just do what she wanted, spending the rest of his time hidden away in his room.

That is unless he was working as each evening at 6 pm sharp, Olga would appear in his room and tell him it was time to leave before proceeding to drive him to Marko’s club to start his shift, where he would spend the evening either walking the club smiling and flirting with the customers or more likely, be forced to sit as Marko or one of his goons brought over a random stranger to sit and chat with him. Of course, these men didn’t just want to chat, as their wandering hands went wherever they pleased, fondling, and playing with Milos’ surgically enhanced body especially after a few drinks.

As the bright summer sun danced across the building tops beneath, Milos let out a heavy sigh, it was almost time to leave and the thought of another torturous evening in the club made him once again consider throwing himself from the window and ending it all.

He knew what awaited him, the darkly lit room filled with smoke and noise, people grabbing and leering at him in his skimpy outfit and worst of all, the sight of coach propped up by the bar as he was fed drink after drink until he fell off his stool, the thought of it made him feel sick.

Coach was now a shadow of his former confident self. A frail skeleton of a man who was forced to watch on as Milos trotted around the club, degraded, and molested by Marko’s guests. Just imagining his haunting dead eyes following him around, just as much a prisoner as him made him shudder.

to get through the nights, Milos drank heavily and took whatever drugs he could get his hands on, which wasn’t difficult in Marko’s clubs. High as a kite, he could at least forget where he was and what he had become.

For anyone looking in at his life from the outside, the question of why he hadn’t tried to escape might have confused them. for Milos, the thought was constantly on his mind, but it also terrified him especially after discovering early on that disobeying or talking back to Marko came with a price.

He still recalled a night, during his first few weeks working at the club when a customer had grabbed at one of his breasts, still tender at the time from the surgery, Milos had responded by slapping the man hard across the face.

That was a mistake, he was dragged out to a back room and screamed at before as a punishment he was forced to finish his shift topless. After apologising to the man, he was made to sit on his lap for the rest of the evening in the centre of the room as the man fondled and played with his sensitive nipples as everyone else watched on.

The experience had been traumatic, to say the least, but to make matters even worse and to really humiliate him, Marko then dragged Coach over from his position by the bar and made him join in.

Milos still had nightmares of that night, sat there with tears streaming down his face as his former mentor and hero played and suckled on with his erect nipples before being thrown to the ground where two burly men kicked and beat him to within an inch of his life as Milos screamed at them to stop.

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Arriving at the club around six-thirty, Milos carefully descended the steps and walked out onto the empty dancefloor. With the club not opening its door until seven, Milos had some time alone, well apart from Olga’s watchful eye following him around the room, never letting him out of her sight for a second.

Finding a spot in the corner out of the way, Milos sat down to hide until the customers started pouring in.

He was deep in thought, having just downed some pills, when he noticed someone approaching, bringing him back to reality. Jumping to his feet, Milos stood to attention as his tormentor Marko Mitic approached.

(See image 1.2)

“Good evening, doll”, Marko announced looking him up and down, a sly smile crossing his lips, “you look as gorgeous as ever tonight”.

“Thank you Marko”, Milos replied forcing a smile but on the inside feeling a burning hatred.

“Are you ready for opening”? Marko asked.

“Yes, I’m ready”, Milos replied in a deadpan voice.

“Excellent, I have an important client coming by later tonight, I’ve told him all about you and he’s looking forward to meeting you”.

Milos didn’t respond, he just kept smiling.

“I’m sure I don’t have to remind you of what is expected of you, show him a good time”, Marko said once again looking Milos up and down.

“Of course, Marko”, Milos answered, “I’ll make sure he has a wonderful evening”.

“Good girl”, Marko replied nodding before turning to leave.

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A few hours later, Milos was walking the floor and greeting the customers, one of the many little tasks expected of him in a typical evening, when he noticed Olga heading for the bathroom.

Seizing the opportunity, he quickly made his way over to the bar, where he found Coach slumped on his stool, halfway through a bottle of Vodka still bruised and swollen from a recent beating.

“Are you OK”? Milos asked quietly approaching the bar.

Coach looked up slowly, so malnourished that the bones of his skull stuck out prominently through his unhealthy looking skin, he smiled making Milos recoil slightly at the sight of his broken yellowed teeth, “Milena, you shouldn’t be talking to me”, he replied, “it's not safe for either of us”.

“Coach, we have to get out of here, this is all a nightmare”, Milos said, his voice full of emotion, “I can’t do this anymore, we need to do something”.

“Shhhh, keep your voice down”, Coach replied as his eyes darted around the room nervously, “ok, we don’t have long before someone notices us talking, but I might have an idea”.

Milos felt a wave of excitement hit him for the first time in months, “an idea to escape this place”? he blurted out, “how? Tell me”.

“Shhhh, calm yourself”, Coach said, again looking around cautiously, “I’ve been planning a way for us to get away from here, but I just need a little more time to iron out some of the details”, Coach said slurring his words.

“More time, like how much more time? I don’t know how much longer I can live like this” Milos replied with pleading eyes.

“You have to be strong Milena, we may only get one chance to escape, and everything needs to be perfect, be patient, I’ll let you know when the time is right, do you trust me”? Coach said trying not to stare at Milos’ tiny top, struggling to contain his impressive breasts.

“Of course, I trust you” Milos replied, grimacing slightly looking at Coach’s bruised face and missing teeth, “can I help in any way”?

“Yes, keep an eye on Marko and his goons, try to find patterns, look for times when they are busy or distracted”, Coach answered, “but right now you need to get back to work, we can’t be seen talking”.

“Ok Coach”, Milos said nodding, “we’ll talk again soon, I’ll watch them like a hawk”.

“Hang in their kid, we’ll be out of here soon, and this will all be but a distant nightmare”, Coach said reaching over and giving Milos’ hand a brief squeeze.

As he watched Milos, wiggle away before disappearing into the crowded dancefloor, his huge backside swaying from side to side in his form-fitting mini skirt, Dejan slumped back onto the bar and felt guilty, he didn’t have a plan or any idea how they might escape but had felt compelled to comfort his young friend.

Picking up his glass of vodka, he down the rest of his drink before slamming the glass down onto the bar angrily, “I have to do something”, he thought to himself, “Milena is relying on me and for my own sanity we have to get out of here, I need to start working on a plan right away”.

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From that moment on, Milos’ observed everything around him and tried to remember every name he heard in the hope it would be a vital bit of information to aid Coach in his plan to escape but as the days passed nothing really stood out, no patterns were emerging and as he watched Coach night after night sat by the bar drinking himself to death it all started to seem so hopeless.

On a Saturday night, a few weeks later, Milos was stood on the edge of the dance floor wearing a skin-tight black dress, that showed off all of his feminine curves.

Scanning the room, he saw Coach slumped against the bar, having had one too many vodkas, Marko’s goons were all in the VIP section, drinking and joking about, and Olga was sat in her usual spot, never too far away and keeping a watchful eye on him.

Looking to his left he noticed a blonde-haired woman once again staring at him, she had been looking at him all evening and it made him nervous. Who was she and what did she want? Did she work for Marko? Was she yet another person sent to spy on him?

Milos didn’t have long to wait to find the answers to his questions as an hour later while on a break, he made his way to the ladies’ room to use the toilet and freshen up. Exiting one of the cubicles, there she stood, hands-on-hips and looking right at him.

Milos stopped in his tracks and stared blankly at the absolutely stunning woman who just oozed confidence. she was dressed to impress from her skin-tight snakeskin top to her perfect legs wrapped in a tight PVC mini skirt, “who are you”? Milos asked, “and why have you been staring at me”?

(See image 1.3)

“Oh, sorry”, the woman replied, stepping forward on her tall over the knee boots and extending her hand, “I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable, I was just watching you work, I’m Bojana, Marko’s little sister”.

Milos stood there unsure of himself before extending his hand and placing it limply in Bojana’s.

“Oh, don’t look so worried Milena, I’m not here to cause you trouble, in fact, I’m a huge fan of yours, I used to love watching you play football”, Bojana said giving his hand a shake and smiling, “but that’s our little secret, ok? don’t tell Marko I was secretly supporting the Tigers he'll have a fit”, she added before giggling.

“Thanks, I guess”, Milos answered in a glum voice”, but I think my playing days are behind me now thanks to your brother”.

“Yeah, what a shame”, Bojana replied shaking her head in a disapproving way, “my brother always takes things and destroys them, I’m sorry for what he has done to you but perhaps I can help”.

“Help? help how”? Milos said warily.

“Well, this place is so boring sometimes”, she said lifting her hand and twirling a piece of blond hair around one of her long red nailed fingers, “I thought, perhaps you and I could hang out? We can drink and party and if you’re with me, my brother won’t bother you, what do you say”?

“Are you sure? your brother seems like he wants me to suffer” Milos said, not really sure what this woman’s true intentions were.

“Oh, don’t worry about him, if I ask him nicely he’ll do whatever I want, I always get my way, now come on, let’s get some drinks and hit the dance floor girlfriend”, Bojana said excitedly, placing her arm around Milos’ waist.

Led by Bojana, Milos exited the dingy old bathroom and was taken towards the dancefloor, he couldn’t help but feel that things were going to end badly. He had just met this woman and didn’t know if he could trust her, but one thing he did know was that Marko was the devil incarnate, so what did that make his sister?