Soon after coming to Allred prison in Texas, Bret Ramos claimed me as his own. He told me I had two choices: I could submit, or I could die. Thus began my life as a prison sex slave. What most people don't understand is that rape in prison isn't like it is on the outside. It's not random or chaotic. It's planned and methodical.

Jeffrey Epstein’s alleged teen sex slave pictured on various holidays



My life as a sex slave — and how I finally escaped
By Isabel Vincent. May 6, pm Updated October 3, pm. Every year, thousands of women are trafficked to New York City from Latin America, and lately China, to work in brothels and massage parlors or as out-call prostitutes. Statistics are hard to come by because the trade is hidden and victims rarely come forward — blocked by language barriers, leery of law enforcement and fearful of vengeful pimps who threaten to kill their families. More On: sex trafficking Seoul court orders Japan to compensate twelve Korean WWII sex slaves Professor accused of raping student is indicted on sex crimes Jeffrey Epstein's modeling agent pal detained in Paris Pornhub owner sued by women claiming it made millions off sex-traffic scheme Last month, eight members of a gang of pimps pleaded guilty in Brooklyn federal court to racketeering, sex trafficking of minors and human smuggling.


My life as a sex slave — and how I finally escaped
She claimed many of the seemingly innocent photos were taken by Epstein himself as he took her on numerous trips where she was allegedly forced to have sex with him and his famous friends. One photo shows Roberts at 15 posing on a New York ferry, which she claims was taken while on a trip with Epstein and Ghislaine Maxwell, who reportedly dated Epstein around and remained close with him after their breakup. In court documents, the now year-old Roberts revealed she was raped by Epstein on that trip in the mansion he owned in Manhattan. It was basically every day and was like going to school. I also had to have sex with Epstein many times.




From the passenger seat of the red Camaro convertible hurtling away from Southampton Road, Janet watched the scenery change from one-story houses to tobacco fields and apple orchards. She had come to Charlotte, North Carolina, to work on a farm, but she wasn't going to be picking—she and the three other women in the car were wearing high heels and see-through miniskirts, and they felt alone and afraid. The thought of the violence to come terrified them. It was midday, and after about an hour on the road, the man behind the wheel, whom the women knew as Ricardo, a common fake name traffickers use, turned down a dirt path and stopped at a cluster of cheap cabins that had floors lined with mattresses. These beat-down shacks were home for more than farm workers.