Dilan and her Teacher Part 2/6 Sex Stories for free – Y2Stories.Com

Edward Pembroke is a teacher who only fantasises about enslaving a schoolgirl, until Dilan enters his world and he makes his dream a reality

Chapter 17

December 17th. Dilan had been at class all week, as he had gathered from watching her coming into school and her attendance records. He was getting concerned that she was becoming too much a model pupil. She did not, however, do her homework, ever, and seemed distracted throughout class. Pembroke asked her a question in class, and she stuttered and gave a wrong answer. The answer was not ridiculously wrong and so it surprised Pembroke when laughter erupted from a corner of the classroom. A gaggle of young girls including Lucy Gibbons and some others including another Asian girl, Asma Ardil, turned to each other and whispered. “Stupid bitch” was uttered followed by more laughter.

Pembroke was taken aback and paused for a few seconds before telling the class to keep quiet. Bullying was constant but he had thought of Dilan as being apart from the others in the class, aloof. He also struggled to image such a pretty young girl being hated but like all males under estimated how bitchy females could be towards each other.

Dilan crouched and bowed down on her desk, and stared down at her books. Pembroke decided to push a little more… “Now Dilan that was close, tell me what you understand by the term… circumference…?” Pembroke knew she would be confused, but wanted to tease her and fluster her to see how she reacted and how the other girls would react.

“Is… is it the space … in the circle…?” She squeaked… The girls in the corner laughed again and then so did other girls and some boys. She did not have much interaction with the boys, who matured slower and who were likely lusting after Dilan as much as Pembroke was. He noted how the other girls laughed at her and sympathised. Dilan looked like she wanted the earth to swallow her up.

Pembroke barked out to Lucy Gibbons the apparent ringleader. “Now, Lucy I am sure you can tell me the answer.” Lucy just shouted out, “is it where gypsies go to get married?” The other girls laughed, and Pembroke noticed Dilan wincing. The ‘joke’ did not even make sense, but it was Lucy’s bravado which carried it off. Dilan was obviously being picked on and “gypsy” a term used on her.

Pembroke saw little change to Dilan’s standard behaviour leaving school. She was alone, her head drooped. She was obviously suffering. He made an enquiry in the staffroom. It was encouraged to check for signs of bullying. This gave him a good excuse to enquire about Dilan without arousing suspicion. Ms Terrence, the music teacher, told him that she had been left crying by the girls in the class, and had asked to go to the toilet and never come back.

Pembroke felt both sympathy but also satisfaction that he had chosen the right victim. He was a passive aggressor he realised. He was never upfront about the misery he inflicted on others. He recalled the Thai prostitute and knew he had relied on the threats of the older woman to victimise her. With the others the evil he had done had been behind their backs, sometimes when they trusted him. He recalled Violet telling him he loved her, and panicking when she pleaded with him to delete the videos and being so thankful to him when he told her he had. As he held her in his arms while she told him she loved him, he stifled a small sadistic smile thinking that he had already splashed out on a trip to Bruges with Karen, the fellow teacher he was now seeing behind Violet’s back and whom he considered proper “wife” material. He also thought about the videos he had already uploaded including one with 100,000 views and counting. He knew Violet’s visa was soon up, and short of a marriage proposal she could not stay in the country.

The real villains were the ones who were brave. Dilan had been prepped for him by the macho bad guys of the Syrian civil war who had killed half of her family and dispersed the rest. Girls like Lucy Gibbons who had scented her as prey had also prepped her by ruining her self esteem, and creating a useful story for her disappearance. An unhappy teenage girl with few family connections who had only been in the country for a few months and who had already run off with random young men. Added to this; a victim of bullying. Suicide was now another potential alibi.

Pembroke thought over his own life and the bullies who had wrecked his self confidence. His old drama teacher, who mocked him. The boys at school who used to hold him down strip him off and show him off to the giggling girls. He had allowed himself to be a victim and so had Dilan. He had paid for this and so would Dilan. If she had displayed more strength of character in class, she would have not been bullied, she would have forged more reliable connections, and she would not have been seen as a potential victim to Pembroke.

The life of a victim had been predestined for her, he assured himself. She was going to have a life of being victimised and controlled by others anyway. So his option for her would be much the same. She had allowed herself to be dominated by the fittest predators and so it was natural justice that she be dominated by Pembroke. This was something he would tell himself and tell her when the time came.

It was close to now or never. Pembroke began to rationalise how he would deal with the newly kidnapped victim. He thought of Kampusch and Prilopil. The first year or so might be easy but he needed to impress obedience and distance right away. He decided to purchase a dog collar with remote shocking ability. The size matched that of an adult and could be tightened. From looking at the design, obviously dogs could not take it off with paws. But it could be locked with a small padlock in addition so that a human could not take it off.

Pembroke wanted a remote control in any event. If he were to enter and could see, on video, that Dilan was either being hysterical or waiting to attack him, he would be able to incapacitate her by shocking her. This would also be used for the same purpose as for the dogs.

One thing he wanted to control was her talking. Dilan did not seem to be much of a conversationalist and Pembroke did not really have much in common to talk with a thirteen year old girl. By not talking this might affect Dilan’s own perception of reality. It would also stop her trying to seduce Pembroke into sympathising with her. If she would barely talk, she would have less ways of articulating herself and Pembroke could control her more easily without any attacks of conscience.

Chapter 18

December 22nd. Pembroke was growing anxious. Over the last few days, he had been practising his boxing skills on a newly purchased punching bag. This served to keep him in shape, control his mental health, and also prepare him for the taking of Dilan. He had gone over the ways of abduction. He knew that the CCTV cameras around the school were working and ruled out taking her close to there. The obvious choice appeared to be to intercept her as she walked from her foster home to the doss house that was the asylum hotel late at night. The route was along quiet residential roads and along some fields.

The kit that he took in the rented car was simple. Masking tape, multiple restraints with Velcro, a mouth gag and a hood. He carried it on the night of the 22nd and waited for Dilan to emerge. She did, and he thanked God for routine. He realised that the foster mother must be OK with this and any disappearance would reflect very badly on her once they looked into it. Pembroke wore a thick coat and hat, fake glasses with false lenses, and a fake moustache. In the dark, he looked like a normal man who was not Mr Edward Pembroke. He followed her on foot, thinking that even if Dilan realised she was being followed, she would not realise it was her maths teacher. They neared his car, which had the boot open ever so slightly. Unfortunately, another car came in the opposite direction, followed by another, then another, they were now passed his car and if he grabbed her now he would face a long distance of dragging her/carrying her back with or without the ball gag in place and there was too great a risk another car would come or even, God forbid, a pedestrian. He remained behind her until they got to the town centre ten minutes later and saw her go into the hotel. He was sure this hotel must face some consequences for the flagrant abuse of their facilities. He had heard that several prostitutes had been held there against their will and been doing business in the hotel rooms. Police had been called, but somehow the hotel just carried on as normal.

Pembroke now faded into the background as other men were lounging around smoking evening in the cold December night. He heard Dilan tell someone to “fuck off” as she entered the hotel. He had wondered whether she was “working” there as none of the men outside seemed like boyfriend material. He walked back to his car, drove home, went to bed. And next morning he drove back to the hotel and waited to see what might happen. He saw her emerge at 8.30am in a thick coat with rights underneath. He assumed this was her school uniform. He need to quickly drive home again, change to his normal clothes, and drive his normal car back to school. Checking the register he noticed that she had come into school that morning.

School was breaking up the next day with a half day. He figured if he had a move to make, he needed to make it soon. His classes ended early and so he drove back home changing back into his “disguise” and in his rented car and waited near the school. He saw Dilan emerge and noted she was walking back towards the hotel. She must be working as a prostitute at the hotel, he was amazed. Why even bother going to school? Perhaps she saw school as a safe haven from the life she was apparently leading. From previous visit outside her foster home he had noticed other young men parked outside. It seemed to be a great place to groom vulnerable young girls.

He had checked local escort agencies but could not find any links to her. There was a shady telegram group which promised girls for hire in a town centre hotel, but his position as a teacher meant this might be too dangerous. He preferred to visit prostitutes well out of town.

Nevertheless, he suddenly felt the urge to give it a go. He was parked just near the hotel and the streets were packed with festive families and shoppers looking for gifts. The sounds of Christmas hits wafted from every shop. He took out his phone and started messaging nearby “girls”. He became inundated with instant messaging from three different profiles. He asked for pics. He was sure he was talking to a pimp who was probably controlling all three different profiles. The first returned images of a girl he recognised from another telegram chat in another town, doubtless some porn model. The second looked a little more realistic but was a middle aged blonde lady. He held his breath waiting for the third lady, but just saw another blonde woman, in her twenties.

He guessed that if he were to visit one of these ladies, he would likely meet another girl who “had to cover for her”, and that might be Dilan. Could he take the chance? A teacher being seen visiting a prostitute might be a sackable offence. It would certainly draw unwelcome attention. Even in disguise, in close light anyone who knew him might recognise him if they looked hard enough and as a teacher there would be many who did, whom Pembroke would not himself recognise. Why on earth was that maths teacher in a hotel with a fake moustache?

For the first time, Pembroke faced a depressing realisation. This wasn’t really going to happen, it never was. It had been an expensive project which had provided much catharsis over the last few months, but he wasn’t really going to kidnap a schoolgirl. He felt relieved. It would never have come off. He would have regretted this for the rest of this life, rotting in a prison cell, wondering how a few months of harebrained scheming had overturned his life when he should have just jerked of to some porn to get over it.

He slowly drove off, and returned home.

Chapter 19

When he got home, he wondered how he would spend Christmas. He had planned to spend it in a fit of sexual orgy with Dilan. Now he realised he would have free time and thought about the TV shows he used to watch with his family. The basement was shut in his mind, and he watched an Indiana Jones movie on TV , a sure fire sign that Christmas was arriving.

He recalled his childhood, and remembered his sister, older by two years, pretty blonde and withdrawn. Even after all these years, every now and then he remembered that he had witnessed sexual abuse. It was so banal, that he would often have to remind himself “my father raped my sister.” One Christmas, in the late 1970s, his father had come from drunk on Christmas eve, yelling that Santa had arrived.

His father had a mean streak which was worse when drunk. His father frequently hit his mother and continually called him a “pansy” for being into books and drama and not being good at sports. He completely ignored Kate, his sister. That Christmas Eve, he and Kate were on the sofa when their father came in. Their mother came in and quickly ushered them to bed.

“Hey, you bitch don’t try and turn my children away from me” his father had slurred. “Stay where you are.” Young Edward noticed his sister starting to shake and wondered what was going on. “You, Eddie, you go to bed, it’s too late for a little faggot like you anyway” growled his father as he sat in his armchair. Young Edward did not mind avoiding his father when he was in this state and so he ran off.”Kate you stay here, and come sit on my lap.”

Young Edward Pembroke listened in his room, and heard nothing but the TV. He heard his mother start shouting at him, followed by more shouting followed by a crash and loud slap and his mothers scream. His sister did not make a sound. His mother walked up the stairs and he heard her crying softly as she made her way to the bedroom.

Young Edward crept out of bed but knew that if his father heard he was up, he would get a beating. He creaked the door open, hehad learned to oil his hinges with vegetable oil to be as silent as possible. He crawled out onto the top corridor and was able to peer down past the railings into the living room.

The TV was still on, some game show was playing. But what shocked him was what he saw on his father’s armchair.

His eleven year old sister had her top off, and her jeans off. She had nothing on but her white panties. She was sitting on the lap of her father who had his trousers around his ankles. She was staring into the TV, his father had his eyes closed and was sucking on the nape of her neck while one hand was down into her panties from the front and the other ran up and down her thigh.

Edward could not believe what he was seeing. He stared transfixed. Suddenly an advertisement came on and it was like the mood switched. His dad took his hand out of her panties, and stood her up in front of him. He remained seated but stared laviscoiuly at her as she stood with her back to him. His hands ran up and down her small lithe body, until he gripped her hips and lunged forward and seemed to bite her bottom. She squealed.

“Keep quiet! You’ll wake the whole house!” he seethed. Edward dipped away, and though to return to his room, but instead he crawled back, and dipped his head back over the edge and looked back at the armchair scene.

Karen was no longer wearing her panties. She was sitting back on her father’s lap, who had one hand underneath her and seemed to playing with his penis beneath her. He couldn’t see it, as his sister obscured his view of his father’s body bar his head feet and arms. His free hand suddenly gripped his sisters chin and twisted it. She turned to the side. Edward gazed in horror and fascination as his father stuck his tongue out and ran it from slowly, seemingly forever, from the bottom to the top of the side of Karen’s face. As his tongue roughly moved to Karen’s eye level, Edward suddenly realised: his sister was starting right back at him. Her eyes seemed huge and lost, like a painting. Time seemed to stand still. His father began lapping up and down the side of her face like a dog while her eyes remain fixated on her brother upstairs. Finally, Edward broke away, and crept back to his bedroom.

That night would never leave him, though sometimes months went by without his ever remembering it. He had never masturbated to its memory, though often wondered if his life would have been different had he never seen it. His sister left the family home at 16 to move in with a boyfriend, then went to university and then emigrated to Australia as a nurse in the early 1990s. She had, to his knowledge, only come back to the UK once since, and had ignored the funerals of her parents.

Chapter 20

December 24th

Pembroke completed a short half day at school. He went to the pub afterwards, soaking in the happy festive atmosphere. He wished he had a family, but his ex Karen, had not been able to have them at first, though she would later scream at him that she was glad she had never had kids with him.

Pembroke was drinking with some teachers and they were sharing stories of what they were getting up to with their families. Pembroke sighed that he was divorced and may spend Christmas with his cousins in Ipswich (this was a lie). He did not want to be dragged to someone’s Christmas dinner as a sympathy guest. Nevertheless he enjoyed the camaraderie and warm chatter of the pub.

“Wonder what pupils will come back with a septum ring in the New Year” cackled Ms Henderson, a French teacher. “That is going out of style surely now?” replied Pembroke.

“Young girls these days, I tell you they would take your husband off you.” Ms Henderson replied while gulping down a pint of bitter. “When are the police going to do anything about those… migrants hanging around the school gates?” riposted Mr Thompson, a fellow maths teacher. “We were told we were going to have a few pupils for a few weeks back at start of term. There has just been more of them and this town is too small for them.”

Pembroke started to realise where the conversation was going to go, and prayed it would soon go back to anything else. He immediately thought of the septum rings and places where they could be inserted.

“Half of those girls are trafficked and the police are doing nothing. Some of our own are getting driven all over the place by them. I tell you what, if I find my niece is hanging out with those 21 year old sixth formers I will have words with them and the headmaster.”

“It’s a disgrace” said Ms Henderson, her voice carrying.

“Here”, a voice came from the next table, “you lot teaching at the high school?” “Yeah” came the common response. “Sorry for your trouble then, they are all scammers.” The voice came from a gruff man in flat cap drinking in the table next to them, seated with two others.

“My sister is fostering some of them. She can’t keep them in, they just come and go. She’s actually asked to be taken off the list and kicked them out but the police asked her to let them back in for a few more weeks. They say they’re under 18 but they’re all in their twenties and the girls are whores, my sister is just lucky they don’t do any business at her house.”

“It’s the hotels, they’re making the money, they get 100 a night for them” replied Ms Henderson.

“My sister got a few quid for em, but honestly she wishes she never did it. They come and go, and most of them aren’t even officially at her place anyway. She’s gone off to Dublin for Christmas and tried to lock the place up but half of them have copied keys.”

“Half my street has been burgled since they moved them in” chirped in another from the table.

“When are the government going to move them on to London or Manchester, they don’t want to be here” moaned Mr Thompson taking another swig of his pint.

“How can the police not do something?” said Mr Pembroke. “I think its scandalous we have so many vulnerable kids living in hotels and foster homes and barely coming into school.”

The others were a bit tired of hearing about “vulnerable kids” and did not sympathise. They seemed much more focused on getting rid of them. “Vulnerable my arse, Eddie” scoffed Thompson and the table laughed.

“Well they won’t get into my sister’s house this Christmas. We’ve just changed her locks, I said Fiona, cannot be starting the new year like this. No more of those kids in the house. They won’t be on the streets anyways, I’m sure, or… well to be honest I don’t care.” Said the flat capped man at the table.

Pembroke suddenly perked up. Fiona. That was the name of Dilan’s foster carer. The owner of the house where he had followed her.

“No more creeps driving past, parked outside and uninvited guests” continued the stranger. Pembroke shuddered a little.

“I understand” said Ms Henderson, “and I’m sure they’ll find somewhere to stay. But how can this be good for them, where are the families? I mean some of these girls are twelve.”

“They say they’re that, they are all older” dismissed the stranger, contemptuously.

Pembroke had often wondered whether Dilan was really just thirteen. But her growth spurt in the few months he had known her, and her appearance alongside her peers, had convinced him she was telling the truth.

“Well they will get a shock if they ever try to get back in there!” the stranger laughed. “I’ve told her to get those camera rings installed. I’ve got one in mine, with all these burglaries I keep telling her she needs to get cameras in.”

Pembroke suddenly thought to himself, that Dilan may well go back to Fiona’s place tonight. And find it locked. What would she do? Had she been at school today? He hadn’t even checked. He cursed himself for not getting her out of his head.

“Those councillors don’t live in the real world” Pembroke interjected. “We should never have invited them here. It’s been nothing but trouble for us and them.“ He said it with such feeling that the he got a “hear hear” but his real motivation was that he was tired of the never ending intrusion of his kidnap fantasy.

At once his mind had gone from a gentle adult conversation in a warm pub, back to the depths of depravity. He saw a young girl at the bar and recognised her as an ex pupil. She smiled back at him and Pembroke returned it. She must be about nineteen now. She was cute with a nose septum and purple hair. He suddenly started thinking about the piercings he would be free to put on whomever he could abduct into his basement.

The conversation continued to revolve around the immigrants. After one more round they said their goodbyes and wished each a merry Christmas.

Chapter 21

Pembroke drove home with three pints. He was nervous particularly as this was the season police tried to catch people out. He got home and then thought about what to do.

If he drank more, which he really want to do, he would be confirmed as staying in and having a festive Christmas Eve on his own. But if he had himself a quick ready meal, it would fill his stomach and he could do “something.”

After eating the same, he thought he might as well drive to over to ‘Fiona’s.’ It was now getting dark, so he took his rental car. What an inexplicable waste of money this was providing out to be, he laughed to himself as he drove off. He forgot the moustache but wore a hat and glasses. He didn’t really know what he thought would happen. He got to Fiona’s place and parked outside. Now dark, he could see all the lights were off.

He listened to the radio and got lost in the discussion on Israel’s war on Gaza. He started to sober up and told himself, he was waiting outside Fiona’s on the very small chance Dilan would show up, not be able to get in, and he would be able to either give her a lift, or he would “grab her.” The odds of Dilan showing up were thin. Where was she now? Maybe she had been told the locks were changed? Maybe she had been there already and gone back somewhere? Maybe she had no intention of going to Fiona’s today or ever again? Maybe she actually had a Christmas to spend with family and friends. He guessed that, as a Muslim, it was unlikely she would.

At the very least, he was exhausting all his options. He would probably see Dilan again. But the longer time went on, the more he might realise this was just not going to happen. What would he do with the basement? He couldn’t’ just leave all that equipment lying around even if it was all strictly legal.

As he sobered up, he also thought something else. The flat capped stranger had talked about the perverts parked up around his sister’s house. He was sure it was not just him he was talking about as he had spotted others too. But what if, knowing the house was empty, they were keeping watch on the house anyway? Even if locks changed, some of the “guests” might be motivated to break a window to get in, particularly if they wanted to get their own stuff. In fact the more he thought about it the more he realised it would be a sensible thing for them to do.

He looked around, and started to wish he had brought his moustache. If the flat capped stranger saw him a few hours later parked outside, he would probably wonder what the hell was going on. He took off and circled around but could not see anyone in the cars parked nearby. Plenty of cars were whizzing by though with Christmas shopping.

He suddenly thought of how sadly his life had turned out. Successful or not this evening, what a pathetic way to spend your Christmas, he thought. A teacher decorating a sex dungeon for a fantasy prisoner, and then stalking his own pupil, for months on end. How on earth, he suddenly thought, had he not been caught so far? He also thought of Karen, and the end of their relationship and the end of any chance of having a normal family life.

It had been two years previously when they last saw each other. Karen had already caught him out on seeing prostitutes by checking online payments which he could not explain, of 50 pounds at a time. They came up online and matched with a company commonly known as an escort agency which she had found out through a woman’s reddit forum.

“I’m sorry, I know you don’t love me, I know you don’t find me attractive, but prostitutes, honesty, that is disgusting.” She had said to him. She was short, plump and friendly and plain looking and plain speaking. “I am afraid you cannot live here. You need to move out.”

That was it, and Pembroke found himself living in a bedsit while teaching in London in his late forties. He discovered that single life was no longer fun. But he still got on with Karen. They met up for drinks and with mutual friends. They agreed they would no longer be a couple but could still tolerate each others’ company.

That was until that damn USB showed up.

He had thought he had thrown it away. He was sure he had. Physical evidence of misdeeds was usually discarded fairly regularly, it was all online where his data was securely protected, and where Pembroke hid everything he cared about and did not want anyone to see.

She asked to meet him at her flat. He was curious, but wanted to see his old place. She said he still had some things and needed to pick them up. He had left some old clothes but had been happy to let them go. As soon as he opened the door, he saw her facial expression and almost simultaneously he knew what had happened.

“You forgot this.” She held out a usb stick in the palm of her hand.

Pembroke immediately froze. He had, in weaker moments traded hundreds of videos and images of quite disturbing content on the dark web. He had expanded his collection and hated letting it go. Some of it didn’t turn him on at all, in particular the images of very young children. Some of it did, the videos of what were apparently sisters from Russia playing with each other. Their long hair swishing over their small pert bottoms and their nervous faces looking at the directors in the amateurish productions, as they were manoeuvred robotically into such positions as sixty nines and were ordered to insert various dildos into each other. The girls were clearly below age. There was also a significant amount of semi legal images of child models which would still have horrified Karen, who didn’t even approve of ‘normal’ pornography.

“Oh Edward, you are sick. You need help. Promise me you will get help.” She softly whispered looking at the ground.

Pembroke didn’t say anything. Part of him reasoned that he should not admit the usb was his. He grabbed it and looked at it. He couldn’t tell if this was it, but it surely must be and there was only one. “It’s not mine.” He snapped. “What do you think you saw on this?”

“Don’t deny it. Please. I haven’t gone to the police.”

Pembroke panicked. How could he play this. “You shouldn’t, this was in your apartment, it could be yours, it could be anyone’s .I haven’t lived here for four months. If you report anything they’ll blame you.” Pembroke pounced like a shark on Karen’s vulnerabilities. She was nervous and not self assured. She would be concerned about children’s safety but she also did not want to get accused herself.

Pembroke thought about reasoning with her. But it was too far gone. She had no more evidence. She would never want to see him again. But could she throw suspicion on him? Suddenly he had a thought about her brother, Malachy.

“If you tell anyone about this, I will tell them about your brother, remember Malachy? and how you let him abuse your little sister.” Pembroke snarled.

“Edward… no. I didn’t do anything wrong with him…”

“Didn’t you? You admitted to me yourself that Malachy abused little Mary.” Pembroke breathed in and assumed a moral high ground. “And you knew, and you did nothing. You were sixteen and he was still doing it. And you never told anyone. Malachy is out and about now; God knows what he’s done. You did nothing to stop him. Who’s to say you didn’t join in?”

Karen blushed. When drunk, she had revealed to Pembroke her darkest secrets. She had come from a family of abusers. Her dad had abused her and then left. Then her little brother Malachy, had abused her young sister, Mary. Karen was shy and quiet and afraid of Malachy and kept quiet about it, and she confessed to Pembroke she had lied to her mother to cover it up and even told Mary she shouldn’t tell anyone. She did not want social services to take Malachy away. Her sister no longer spoke to her, and Malachy had ended up working as an estate agent. Karen was a deeply moral person and the abuse in her family and her own approach to it had eaten her up.

“You did worse than me, this is just a usb stick with some pictures on it. Victimless crime. What you did is way worse” said Pembroke. “One usb stick that could belong to anyone, against your sister and brother and them like the Lannisters going at it.”

The mention of characters of Game of Thrones set Karen’s head spinning. It had been her favourite TV show and she now started to wonder if she was going mad. Had she been involved as well?

“Neither of us will work as teachers again if you spout off about this. I don’t even do this stuff anymore.” Pembroke suddenly adopted a conciliatory tone. “Maybe its best we just forget about each other.”

Karen turned sideways to face the wall. She started to sob. She would not longer have any pleasant memories of this relationship. Her past was now coming back like a bad dream. She felt so dirty and it was starting to seep into her that maybe it was natural she would attract men like Edward Pembroke.

“I don’t want to see you again. Ever. Get out of my flat and leave me alone. Do not contact me again.” She whispered, before closing the door.

Shaking, Pembroke had walked back to the tube station. He stopped halfway through his tube journey walked out and found a litter bin and stuffed the usb deep inside then continued back into the station and along the tube to journey home.

After a detox on his computers and hard drives, he felt confident that he could survive a police raid, but none ever came. He never heard from Karen again, and had recently seen that she had moved to Dubai to teach there. He figured he had got away with it, again.

The memory of Karen and the realisation that he had gotten away with so much made him think again. Being grateful is the key to being happy, and having enough should be enough. It was time to live a normal life. There could be no better Christmas present for himself. He would go home, destroy his “problematic” hard drives. Over the festive period he would get rid of the trash in his basement, and use it for something productive. Maybe he could use it as a venue for a local drama group or art classes?

Pembroke glanced at the clock. It was 6.30pm. He suddenly felt like George Bailey in “It’s a wonderful life”. He felt like driving around town proclaiming festive cheer to all mankind. He would bring in the new year a new, better man. Turning on his lights, he moved off and felt a pang of optimism of what the new year would bring. He turned on the radio and smiled as Wham’s “Last Christmas “ came on. He drove off and made for the roundabout at the top of the road, to turn back and go back into town where he resolved to get himself some extra groceries for himself and some more wine and maybe even a decoration to put up himself.

“Last Christmas” played out and it was replaced by “sympathy for the devil” by the rolling stones which struck Pembroke as an odd Christmas song choice for the radio as he completed the turn around the roundabout. As he faced down the road past Fiona’s to go back into town, he noticed a solitary figure walking up the footpath. His lights and the streetlights illuminated the figure as it grew near.

It was Dilan.

Chapter 22

Mick Jagger’s swaggering voice seemed to come to life in the form of a devil on his shoulder as he recognised Dilan. She was wearing a large coat, carrying a backpack and tugging a long a suitcase on wheels. He instinctively slowed down, and as he drove past her, saw her turn off the footpath into Fiona’s driveway.

“Fuck” shouted Pembroke to no one but himself. “This was fate, the devil wants me to do this. “ He looked into the rear view mirror, driving slowly. At the next house, he stopped, reversed up their driveway, and turned about to go back to Fiona’s .

Dilan’s angelic face had been visible underneath a woolly hat with her dark hair spilling out from it. It had definitely been her. Pembroke drove slowly; he could not just keep driving back and forth up this road. Breathing into himself, he thought about what to do. He turned into Fiona’s driveway. He looked at the front door, Dilan had already got there and was pressing at the front door bell. She turned around to look at the car approaching. She did not display any alarm. Pembroke had turned off Mick Jagger and the rolling stones. The sudden silence impacted him. Without that soundtrack reality hit in. His arms started to shake. He had to do something. Now.

He rolled down the window and called out. “Dilan, are you looking for Fiona?”

“Yes, who are you?” Suddenly Dilan sounded defensive. Pembroke had his glasses and hat on and was concealed behind glaring lights.

Pembroke breathed twice before his next sentence. It’s Mr Pembroke from the high school. I am your maths remember.” He smiled and looked at Dilan.

“Oh, hello sir…” Dilan look confused. “Where is Fiona, where is everyone, what are you doing here?”

“Fiona is out and asked me to check on anyone who was showing up.” Pembroke suddenly prayed the man in the pub was right and there were no cameras around the house. He got out of the car.

Dilan had an instinctive distrust of men. Why was Mr Pembroke here and why was he wearing glasses? What connection did he have with Fiona, and had she recognised that car before, following her around?

Pembroke looked around. The only house that had a view of them was dark, they must be out. He was however weary that his car was illuminating Dilan.

“Do you want a lift to somewhere? I can take you to Fiona where she is staying.” He said. He immediately realised this didn’t make sense, she didn’t want to see Fiona, and “checking on who showed up” sounded weird. He could see Dilan getting suspicious.

Dilan was cold and tired but still alert. This damn house was locked; she really wanted to spend tonight here. She had planned to spend Christmas day at Fiona’s where she could at least rely on Christmas dinner. Although Fiona had often been angry with her, she sensed she would always give in. She had a soft spot for Dilan, it was the others she really couldn’t stand.

She was tired of Willowbridge. She wanted some break from the bitches at the school who bullied her and her ‘boyfriend’ Abdul who shared her with his friends and forced her to turn tricks.

She didn’t like Mr Pembroke. He was creepy. She recognised it straight away, how he lusted after her. Once she had seen his face staring at her backside in the reflection of the TV monitor as she pushed it to the back of the room. Even allowing for some of the middle aged men she had been forced to have sex with, the thought of him looking at her made her queasy.

“I am good, I will wait here. I can text someone.” She replied curtly.

Pembroke was taken aback. She folded her arms in front of him. It felt so rude; he was her teacher offering her a friendly lift. He had been kind to her in class. And this was the thanks he got? Instant disapproval, suspicion, and was disgust even detected in her response?

“You sure? Its Christmas Eve” said Pembroke. He suddenly felt drunk. He felt defeated.

“Yeah, what are you doing here, on Christmas Eve?” Dilan responded. “That’s not your car, but I’ve seen it before.”

Pembroke froze. Until two minutes ago, he was safe. Now, he had a very questionable scenario on his hands. What would happen if he just sloped off now? Word would get around, if not through school then through Fiona, or someone, that he had been creeping around.

Was it his imagination, or did he see her hand dip into her pocket and grab what appeared to be a phone? It might as well be a gun for the damage it could do to him…

“Look Dilan if you must know, I am part of the local neighbourhood watch.” Pembroke suddenly realised that he was going to have to take her down, as if she was a gunfighter and he was unarmed. “And Fiona is not happy with what is going on. She is actually off to Ireland if you must know.”

Dilan thought about what to do. She decided she wanted to get back on the main road. “OK well I’m leaving; I walked here so I can walk back.” She began pulling her suitcase along the drive way and tried to veer as far to the side of Pembroke as she could.

“Well, if you wish, Dilan…” Pembroke moved to go back into his car. As Dilan moved back, he noted she had one hand on the suitcase, another on her phone. His long intended move had been to punch her in the stomach as hard as he could. This would wind her, and stop any screaming. But her puffy coat meant that there was good chance it would cushion the blow or make him miss her solar plexus. He hesitated and she passed him. He sat down on his driver’s seat, and watched her walk past. This was not just a lost opportunity; this was the equivalent of Karen’s threat to set the police on him. He had to do something.

Instead of swinging his legs into the seat, he sprang up, and lunged towards her, planting his foot on the back of her calf, just below where her coat showed her jean clad legs. She instantly fell forwards and having both hands full, fell forwards onto her knees then on her face. Pembroke jumped on top of her and wrapped one arm around her neck and pulled her face off the rough surface of the driveway. His other hand clamped over her mouth.

“Shut your fucking mouth bitch” hissed Pembroke. His adrenalin was pumping. He was sure he had injured himself as well as Dilan in this move. He looked to his right and saw to his horror there was a clear view of the pavement and someone could drive or walk past at any moment.

He got up and kept his forearm jammed up under her throat and lifted her feet off the ground. His other hand kept its grip over her mouth and nose. The car door was open. He got her towards the car and looked back. He pushed her down on the passenger seat so that the car obscured the view from the road.

She weakly raised her arms and tried to grab his arms away, but she could hardly breathe. She might soon asphyxiate or he could break her neck. He was surprised at how bony she felt. In his glove department, he felt around and found the little box containing the ball gag. The most important thing was to stop any noise.

He took his arm away from her throat, put his knee on her back and kept his hand over her mouth while letting her nose go free. His other hand batted away her attempts to grab with her hands.

“Keep still. Keep still or I will fucking cut you.” Pembroke didn’t know where the animalistic anger came from. “Shut up and open your mouth.”

He tried to work the ball gag in but couldn’t. She broke free and raised a cry. It was deep and guttural rather than high pitched and Pembroke prayed it was not enough to rouse anyone above the ongoing engine and the noise of the main road. His hand went back over her mouth. He rolled her over, and kept both hands over her face and his elbows over her arms. He had her immobile. Her nostrils flared in breath.

Dilan herself was terrified. She had been hit before, but this was different. She thought she was being strangled, she could hardly breathe. She could also barely see and thought she would black out with the pain.

Pembroke looked for the ball gag lying beside her. He raised himself up, and leaned his knee into her stomach. Her eyes bulged. She thought he would kill her with this. He took one hand off her face and grabbed the ball gag. She spewed and choked, and when he was satisfied she couldn’t scream, he took his other hand off her face, grabbed both ends of the ball gag, and pushed it into her mouth, while also gripping her cheekbones. Her eyes continued to bulge and looked right past him. Suddenly he remembered to take his knee off her stomach and panicked, thinking she might be dead or irreversibly injured. Her arms had gone limp.

Dead or not, he finished what he had started and completed the ball gag around her mouth and pulled it tightly. He raised her up, her arms came up weakly to challenge him. He pushed her into the car, onto her stomach so that her head banged into the gearstick. Pembroke panicked thinking the car might go backwards down the driveway. It didn’t. He grabbed the restraints from under the seat, and thanked God he had taken this kit with him. He grabbed one wrist and roughly wrapped it in Velcro clad fabric, while he watched her other hand go to her mouth. The gag might be choking her, but it was better to have to dispose of a dead Dilan than have to defend himself against a charge of kidnapping a live Dilan.

Her backpack was still on her back, and so he had to bend her arm right back to get it close to where the centre of her back should be.

He grabbed the other hand off her face, and yanked it down. She harrumphed loudly through the gag, showing her energy was coming back. His knee placed over her other arm, he wrapped another restraint around her other wrist, then brought it to her other wrist under his knee, while his spare hand searched on the car floor for the link to place between them. It had been there 30 seconds ago damn it!

Finally he found it, underneath her legs, while her arm went free. He grabbed it again. She had nothing to grab onto, except the gearstick. He finally snapped the restraints together. She was now handcuffed with her hands behind her.

He hauled her up. He looked over the car roof and checked the driveway. Nothing. Quickly he bent her over and pushed her back into the car. This time he head went crashing into the door on the other side and her stomach landed on the gear stick. He reached for another pair of restraints and grabbed her two ankles. He placed the restraints against them over her jeans. His hands were now covered in mud. He took a step back. He looked around. The house overlooking the scene was still all dark. The sole window seemed to have no one in it. He quickly sprinted to the bottom of the drive way. He slowly emerged and was able to look up and down. No one had come walking by in the last minute or so. He sprinted back up to his car. Dilan was out of his car, and on the ground trying to move like a worm.

Pembroke breathed. He would be exhausted in a minute once the adrenaline stopped. He grabbed a last piece of his kit. A chain was attached to the link of her hand cuffs to her ankle cuffs to the footcuffs which was only a foot long, which brought her feet right up close up to her buttocks.

He carried her, and again was surprised at how light she was. He opened the boot and dumped her in head first. He quickly went for her phone and searched her pockets. First her coat, which he unzipped, then her jumper, then her jeans. The task was not erotic in the slightest, she felt like a stick insect and his main concern was finding the phone. It briefly stuck him that maybe he was into fat women after all. It seemed so unnatural to reach under the thick coat and feel a bare torso that felt like a thin pole compared to him.

Still no phone. He frantically searched the ground for it. He found the suitcase but still no phone. He took out his own flashlight and turned it on. Again he looked at the entrance onto the pavement. Was anyone coming? He had another furtive quick glance. He saw a couple with two children coming about sixty metres away!

He turned and sprinted back up. He closed the boot on Dilan, her wide eyes staring at him as he forced it down. He prayed it would fit, and after kicking her legs in, he was able to slam it shut. He then raced to the driver’s seat, and turned off the lights and engine.

He could not see whether the couple had passed or not from being in the car. After a minute, he got out, and checked again, only cars, no pedestrians. They must have passed by. He then went back to looking for her phone. He finally found it, it had flown about five metres out of her hand where he had kicked her.

He brought the suitcase and phone back to his car. He had left his own smart phone at home, unwilling to be trackable. He debated what to do with the phone. He realised she could have more, in her backpack or in the suitcase.

He did not want to spend any more time here. He pushed the suitcase in to the car, and started the engine. In the light of the car, he saw that he was covered in mud. Suddenly, he realised his glasses had flown off. Should he get them? He realised he should. Another agonising five minutes went by as he searched for them. He fully expected to be seen or have another fosteree to turn up.

He almost hurt with relief when he found the glasses. To be nearly found out by fake glasses!

He reversed around the front of the house. He then took off down the driveway and onto the exit to the main road. He looked about and noticed that there were two middle eastern looking young men approaching about forty metres away. Cars continued to fizz past and he panicked, he did not want the pedestrians to see him. Finally, he got an opening and pulled out quickly as the two young men were less than ten metres away. He looked into the rear view mirror and saw them turn into Fiona’s place. A stroke of luck? Definitely in the nick of time. They were unlikely to take down the number plate. All that would happen would be that they would realise the house was locked and think that long gone car perhaps belonged to a friend of Fiona’s.

Pembroke drove less than five minutes away until he got to a church graveyard. He looked around and didn’t see anyone. He looked at her phone which was locked but could see notifications of messages. He then quickly opened the suitcase and went through it. There were mainly clothes, and a laptop. Could a laptop be tracked?

He needed to see into her backpack before taking her “home”. To do that, he needed to open the boot. He worried she was maybe dead. He could not do that here.

He drove further up the road, and down into a country lane. He reversed up so that his boot would not be visible from the main road. There was a house at the end which was a hundred metres away. He grabbed a knife. He took one last look around, before opening the boot,

Dilan was still there; her eyes stared up at him. Her mouth and cheeks were full with red ball emerging from the hole of her mouth. She looked petrified but alive. He reached in with the knife, and cut the backpack off at the straps and hauled it off, allowing Dilan to cower further back into the boot with the new space. Pembroke slammed the boot down, and looked behind him. He did not know what he would have had to do, if he had seen anyone there, him holding a knife with a girl in his boot. He hurried back to the front seat threw the backpack on the passenger seat and drove back to the graveyard.

He rifled through the backpack. He was mainly looking for electronics. He touched upon a packet of panties and suddenly remembered the reason for the whole escapade. For the last twenty minutes or so, he had thought nothing of sex and everything about survival. He had never felt less interested in sex. All he wanted to do now was get rid of any incriminating evidence and get home.

He found an mp3 player and a further phone. He now had a laptop and two phones that needed to be got rid of. He had to factor in that these may be tracked by police. Could the police track the phones all around these winding roads and then check dash cams of the car holding them?

He decided to drive back towards the town centre. There was a good chance that her phones would automatically pick up wifi of her hotels. They might also have picked up Fiona’s wifi and he was amazed at how easily people could be tracked nowadays. Thirty years ago it would have been so much easier, he grunted.

He put his glasses back on. He drove near the hotels in the city center. He spotted a half-empty bin. He parked beside it, placed the laptop, two phones into the backpack, zipped it up, and cut off the straps by their remaining links, and brought it out of the car and quickly walked to the bin and placed it inside. The rest of the contents of the backpack were now messily spread over the floor of the front passenger seat.

He could not resist a look around as he got back into his car. The pubs were still full, and he was terrified someone would recognize him. They likely would not call out to him if they did. The first he would hear of it would be in a police witness statement weeks or months away, he grimly speculated. He had to compose himself before driving off. He felt safer in his metal box looking out at the crowds but did not want to hang around. He took off, and ever so slowly made his way home.

Chapter 23

He found himself taking a detour. He thought about buying some things in the supermarket but dismissed this. He was caked in mud, and did not want anyone to see him like this and connect him to this car. He regretted that he could not return it until the 28th at the earliest.

But he did not want to go home. He was nervous. It was now 7.30pm. Just an hour ago, he had been listening to Wham’s last Christmas. Now he had brutally assaulted and kidnapped Dilan, disposed of her devices in a city centre bin and driven all over town. But the hardest part was still to come.

He pulled in and drove past his “real “ car and parked near his back door. He listened for noise from the boot. He stood at the boot for over a minute, before opening it. Dilan was there, she had her eyes shut in terror and she was facing into the back of the boot. This made it easier for Pembroke to stare down at her.

He closed the boot down again. He wasn’t ready. This felt like the opening scene of Goodfella’s. “For as long as I remember, I always wanted to be a kidnapper” he ruefully smiled. He wished he could relax but he couldn’t. He rationalised. There was no way Dilan could have texted anyone before he had attacked her. There was no way someone would have seen into Fiona’s house yard from the neighbours house unless someone had been sitting in a dark window in an upstairs room of an empty house. There was no way any car or pedestrian could have witnessed the struggle to get Dilan into the car. It seemed to have lasted fifteen minutes but was probably over in less than five. Finding the phone and the glasses had taken far longer and no one had seen him then, he could be sure. The two young men visiting Fiona’s place would not have recognised him or seen into his car, and would not have though much of a car leaving the house. Most houses did not have cameras and he had been told Fiona did not cameras by the stranger in the pub who seemed to know more about cameras than this Fiona. The last one seemed to be a huge leap of faith all of a sudden and Pembroke gulped. In any event, if they had cameras perhaps they would not view all footage if no crime had been reported. Those two men might rob the place, and they would review the footage and see him instead. He laughed darkly at the irony.

He had driven around but only opened the boot again in a country lane with no one looking. Was there anything suspicious about him driving around on Christmas Eve, looking through some bags and suitcases near a graveyard? Would anyone see him drop the devices into the bin? Would someone lift the devices out of the bin? In a moment of panic he thought about the phone ringing in the bin. But it had been silent for the twenty minutes in the car, maybe it was on silent?

And would anyone miss Dilan? It seemed insane now, how confident that he had been that people would just dismiss the disappearance of a young teenager. She wouldn’t be due at school until the new year, but for all he knew someone might be at the police station right now saying she was supposed to call an hour ago and hadn’t. Realistically when was the earliest someone would notice they could not get in contact with her? He hoped that staying at Fiona’s meant she had no plans tonight at least. A few young migrants would not be so quick as to contact the police if they could not locate her. In fact the police might be the last people they would contact.

He hoped Fiona was enjoying her holiday in Ireland. If Pembroke pulled this off, she would probably get into a lot of trouble eventually. He wondered why women fostered children if they could not foresee all these problems. It did seem very bad form to just change the locks and kick them out.

He worried about this rental car. He had learned that he might already be known as a pervert around some of the migrants but would the young guys care about him? Did they know about him or just his car, or was it just Dilan? He had not stalked anyone else.

He considered getting information from Dilan. He decided to go indoors and check his phone. He took his clothes off, and stripped naked. He put his clothes into a bin bag. He did not want to wash them, he wanted to throw them out at the first opportunity. He took a shower, then poured himself a whiskey.

It was now 9pm on Christmas Eve. He checked his messages. A merry Christmas had been sent by his sister. He sent back a cheery festive reply. There were no other messages other than in generic whatsapp groups he did not really participate in. He went through twitter and local news half expecting to see news of a kidnapping.

He put on a black tracksuit which was probably about to get as dirty as his previous clothes. Dilan was covered in mud around her shoes, lower jeans and her coat. He first brought in her things from the car. He brought them straight to the stairwell, and opened up the door. He first made sure his front door was locked. The last thing he wanted was a choir showing up as he trying to force Dilan downstairs.

He went downstairs and opened up the cage. He made a mental note to see if he remembered the code to get in and out in spite of the excitement, he brought in the suitcase and a plastic bag full of her stuff from the backpack. He quickly laid them out on the gynaecological table and then put more on the fucking bench. Most of it was clothes, underwear, socks, skirts, nothing too racy. Her school uniform was there. Some cheap jewellery, and some make up. Some high heels and trainers. Some teen magazines. Tampons, wipes, phone charger, a cheap watch. It depressed him how little she had. No books, well that was going to have to change. He might grant her a TV with some DVDs but generally he wanted as little electronics and as little hard material with sharp edges as possible. He recalled when he first met Dilan, and how intelligent she had at first seemed. Her life in the UK must have ground her down.

He raised an eyebrow when he came across a packet of condoms. He would have to interrogate her to find out her sexual history. He had not thought that he would have to worry about STDs but this did confirm that she was sexually active.

He hurried back upstairs. He grabbed a glass of water to compose himself. He had to be fully alert. He was feeling sore from his earlier exertions and would probably ache like mad tomorrow morning. How, he thought, would he get her into his house? The path was: drag her from the boot, carry her stomach up to the backdoor, through his back room, the living room and into the stairwell. All doors were kept open. The curtains were all tightly closed. Did he need to blindfold her? Yes, he grabbed two woolly hats and went out to the boot.

He walked around the yard and looked for anyone. Not a sound was there nor creature stirring. This would be a special santa delivery. He opened the boot. Dilan was still facing away and keeping still. He feared she was dead, and reached in to touch her cheek. Still warm and she flinched. Good. He checked the restraints, she was still tied securely and he could not pull her legs away past the link cord. She must have been like this now for an hour and a half. He looked over and saw her eyes staring straight ahead into the corner of the boot. Taking one last look around, pulled the wooly hats down over her head one over the other. He ran his arms under her, and gingerly pulled her up. Her muddy shoe soles grazed his chin and cheek, as he carried her through sideways into the back door over the threshold.

He tried to avoid banging her head or her bent knees against the edges of the walls. He got to the top of the stairwell, and ever so slowly, walked downwards sideways. Her head was downward and her shoes scraped mud against the ceiling of he stairwell. He noted to clean that mud off. He slowly turned at the bottom, through the propped open basement door, the propped open padded door, and open cage door. He then gingerly put her down on her stomach in the middle of his “fun” room.

He raced back upstairs, and went out to the car. He closed the boot and the back door. He wondered when he should clean the car out. If police called to inspect, he might actually get away with the basement being undetected but the mud in the boot? He resolved to clean it first thing tomorrow morning.

He quickly cleaned the ceiling of the stairwell before going back down. This time he closed all doors behind him. The lights were on, the cage and door were shut and it was just him and Dilan.

Chapter 24

After all this, all Pembroke wanted to do was relax and go to bed. It was only 9.30 but he had been through a lot physically and emotionally. He thought the same of his young charge but knew he must get her comfortable.

He pulled out his knife. The one item of clothing he did not find interesting was her long puffy coat. It took several minutes as hetook care not to cut her and keep the restraints in place. Only “hhmm” pleading escaped from under the woolly hats covering her entire head. He rechecked the pockets and found nothing. He kicked the remnants of the coat over to the corner. The floor of the room was made of rubber which was easy to clean which was fortunate as it was covered in mud. He pulled off her her trainers and socks and kicked them to the corner.

For the first time, he began to relax. Dilan look tiny whereas a few moments before she had looked like a little bear in her big coat. She was in jeans and a navy blue sweater. He panicked thinking it was a Christmas jumper, was she on route to a party? But it was plain. The outfit of someone who was not going anywhere interesting. He looked at her form. He had rarely seen her in normal clothes and she looked small, her jeans clung to her slim legs, and her upper body looked so small that he became more confident in his ability to boss her around physically at least.

It was obvious that she had wet herself unfortunately. The smell quickly became apparent. He noticed the dark patch between her legs soaking the denim. Nevertheless, he did want to take some photographs and chose this as his primary photo of the whole operation, of her, hog tied, hooded, in jeans and blue sweater lying on her side.

This had been a pleasant fantasy but he had to admit, he was a little scared of this twig like, tied up girl. He pulled of the hats. She blinked wildly and stared at him. Her eyes were so big, and bloodshot. Her chin looked double what with the ball gag stretching her jaws. He took some further photos.

“Now Dilan, you may know me as Mr Pembroke. But tonight, we are going to have a new relationship.” He spoke with his favourite Shakespearean flourish. He recalled trying to conquer his nerves impersonating a macho warrior on stage and used this to try and intimidate her.

“I am going to remove your gag now. I do not want you to speak. That means no screaming, no crying and no pleading. This is not maths class. This is the first day of the rest of your life. You will obey me and wait for me to speak. Understand.”

Dilan started shaking.

“Understand? You will obey me!” cried Pembroke. He felt like he was back in class. This was now less about sex and more about acting and exerting control.

“There will e punishments for disobedience. Now bearing that in mind, I am going to take off your gag.”

Pembroke unclipped the gag at the back of her head. He had to pull the gag out past her teeth, he was lucky he had not chipped any of her teeth. She gulped and her mouth remained agape as she struggled to close it. Her saliva must have dripped into her throat in the meantime as she began to choke. Pembroke quickly pushed her onto her side and she coughed profusely into the floor.

He took his camera and took some more photos. “Now it’s good that you are quiet. Stay that way. I am going to cut off your jeans now.” He displayed his knife and she suddenly managed to gasp.

“No, sir please no, please let me go…”

“I told you to be quiet!” He held the knife to her nose. He looked at her eyes as they became cross eyed focusing on the sharp threat to her face. “Your jeans are dirty, we need to get them off you.”

She stayed quiet. He first went through her pockets again. His loins began to stir as he groped her buttocks through the jeans back pockets. He then pulled off her belt and threw it into the corner, and held the knife under the waist elastic. He took care not to press the blunt end to harshly into her flesh. He ripped it up and felt the tightness of the material lapse as he slowly cut it down to her knees. He did the same to the other side. He stared at her creamy brown thighs, she was wearing sensible black boy shorts. Given the weather it was a good choice. These looked soaked and smelled.

He went over to some drawers that held some bondage equipment. He came back with a spreader bar for her feet. He first took some more pictures. He would have to get her cleaned up quickly. It smelt like she had soiled herself. Poor thing was probably terrified and had not had the chance to go to the toilet for hours.

He took off the restraints on her ankles and the link chain to her wrists. Her legs flopped down. She was still bound by her jeans as he yanked them down to her ankles. Above the jeans on her ankles, he clicked on one loop of the spreader bar, which was a straight metal bar two feet wide, which meant she would not be able to bring her legs any closer together nor properly raise her legs. It would force her to walk in a bizarre bow legged fashion. Her legs would be spread and she could move but very slowly and carefully, and, importantly, not be able to kick or get away from Pembroke.

After it was secured on he pulled the rest of the jeans off her and threw them in the corner with the rest.

She was now on her back spread out. Her arms were pushed behind her and forced her back up and arched with her waist highest. Pembroke adopted a paternal manner, the smell and need to clean her up worked as a sexual deterrent… for now. He took a few more photos (which would not capture the smell) and then took the knife and drew it up her sweater until his knife appear under her collar. He kept her chin back in case he nipped her throat, and pulled the knife up, he yanked her ripped sweater down to her bound hands and then worked on her white t shirt. He pulled her up and pushed her forwards. He pulled the bottom of the t-shirt up, reached between her bound hands, and tore through the fabric with the knife then continued with his hands, ripping it apart. He needed the knife again to cut through that the collar. He reached his hand around her front, grabbed some of the t-shirt and sweater pulled it apart as hard as he could. She squealed and Pembroke ignored it. He could not however rip the t shirt off from the front.

“Be quiet, we are nearly done with this knife.” He held her collar at the front and pulled the knife through it, then more easily ripped the t-shirt down exposing her belly button and bra.

Pembroke began to grow aroused. He had fantasised about what she would look like naked. He lay her down and took more photos. Her t shirt and sweater were hanging by threads around her waist, her upper body naked except for her white bra. Her little cleavage was bunched up and her shallow breathing made her small breasts rise and fall. Her rib cage was easily visible. More out of curiosity then lust he traced his fingers around her ribs, and across her implausibly flat stomach. She twisted and her torso rippled, rising up and down, in reaction to his touch.

Her bra mismatched her panties. She had plenty of other bras in her stuff, so he did not feel bad about unclasping the back, and tearing off the front with his knife. Her breasts were exposed. They were beautiful little mounds that jutted out horizontally. Her nipples arose from dark aureoles into little nibs. He automatically massaged them and for the first time the operation took an explicitly sexual nature.

“No….. leave me alone please” said Dilan.

“I told you, you are not to speak” bellowed Pembroke, as if he were striding the stage. “We are undertaking a process here and this is the first step. “ Regardless, he took some more photos of her, her breasts exposed, the spreader bar spreading her legs and the remnants of her t-shirt and bra thinly lying around her belly with her black panties still intact.

He lifted her up under her arms. “Now, let’s go to the shower and toilet and get you cleaned up. “ He lifted her towards the toilet and sat her down. “I am going to pull your panties down now and want you to evacuate what you need to evacuate.” She looked blankly at him. “If you have to take a shit or piss, do so!” shouted Pembroke.

He was frustrated that the more base bodily functions were intervening but they needed to be dealt with. He reassured himself that this humiliation would represent a full ownership of her. This was something no one had done to her since she was a helpless baby, and she was just as helpless now. There would be no privacy.

“Come on, I don’t like this kind of thing, so let’s get it over with, “ scoffed Pembroke. He didn’t dare turn his back. Dilan was terrified. This felt so alien; she was having to go to the toilet in front of her teacher in his basement? Was he going to kill her? She had to ask.

“Are you going to kill me?” she asked in a small voice.

“I did say you were not to speak but I understand it is overwhelming to obey all these rules now. But, to answer your question, no I don’t’ want to kill you. Of course I might have to kill you if you don’t do as you are told. But if you just do what I tell you, you have nothing to worry about.”

Dilan remained silent and stared down. “Get on with it” barked Pembroke. Slowly he heard the inevitable sound of human processes and quickly flushed. Dilan looked both utterly humiliated and disgusted with herself. He yanked her up and noted the toilet bowl was clean from the flush. He lifted her under both arms and brought her to the shower box. He rolled up his sleeves and with his knife sliced through the last of the t shirt and bra around her waist and quickly threw it into the corner.

He turned on the shower head. The water was cold. He resisted the urge to spray it on her and instead waited for it to warm up. He was for the first time standing over her. He looked down at her face, she was staring straight ahead and he began stroking the side of her head. “Good girl. You have handled this very well so far. We want to get you nice and clean now.” He noticed he injuries. There was a graze on her cheek, her lip was cut. Her tummy had a swelling which might turn into a bruise. Both her knees were bloody. There would likely be more bruising to her hips and arms and legs in the coming days. He decided to take some photos of her with the shower running over her.

“And now let’s get you naked, finally” he smiled at her. He brought the knife to the sides to the panties and ripped both ends and pulled it away. He ran it under the shower to run most of the filth of it, before squeezing it and bringing it over the rest of her clothes. He ran the shower over her butt cheeks and showered in between her legs. He noted her vagina had a light covering of dark stubble on top. “Now I am going to release your hands but not your legs. Be careful as you may fall over, though I will be here to stop your fall.”

He released the Velcro restraints and stood back. She brought her hands up to her front and covered her breasts and her pussy. Pembroke smiled and took more photos.

“We will both remember this day for as long as we live, my dear” sighed Pembroke. “Now, I want you to clean yourself thoroughly, here is some soap. I will catch you if you fall over, but be very careful to scrub all over. “She blushed, and knew he meant around her anus and vagina specifically. He started videoing her, she took to her task with intent, the difficulty of maintain her posture with her legs held far apart obviously focused her. She washed under her arms. “Wash your hair now, I want you to be nice, here is some shampoo.”

He watched her wash her hair after scrubbing her body. “Now shave yourself. “ He handed her a safety razor. “Armpits first.” She was in a state of shock but complied. Her face had the same nervous expression as when she was answering question in class. He had some ideas about how to permanently remove her body hair, though understood that she still had to grow and develop into puberty. For the time being, shaving was better than lazering until she had developed more, then he intended to carry out some permanent hair removal on her.

Dilan was terrified would fall over at any second. Her knees were sore from being kicked to the ground at first, and then bound into a hog tie for what seemed like hours, and now being splayed apart while balancing herself. She was grateful to be clean but felt so embarrassed and pathetic having to clean and toilet herself in front of Mr Pembroke.

She still could not quite take it in that Mr Pembroke had kidnapped here. Was it only him? What was he going to do? She tried to imagine she was back in maths class when he ordered her around. She winced as Pembroke crouched down and ran his hands up her shins and thighs.

“You are so smooth; you don’t even have to shave your legs yet. Wonderful.” He was weary of a razor in her hand, not matter that it was safety, and so backed off. “Now this will be difficult, but I want you to shave your little pussy, can you do that? Have you done it before?”

“Yes sir” responded Dilan shyly. She had to do it before as Abdul had demanded her, she had been disgusted by the pornography videos he had shown her. Him, and those disgusting white men that Abdul had sent into her room. And now this….

“Good, now let’s get it nice and smooth for me. Come on” He watched her struggle to pull the hairs form the razor after each shave, and start again. It took a while but she looked up and said “It’s done.”

“Good, now remember you should called me Sir” (he liked the sound of this teacher’s address). He did sometimes get a thrill from girls calling him “sir” while imagining it in a dungeon setting.

“Yes, sir.”

“Now girls should not have hair here.” He pointed to the soft flesh of her crotch, “Also here,” and he ran his finger down, over the tight crevice of her pussy, and between her thighs side to side, and over her anus and up past her cheeks. “Now this will be difficult but I want you to turn around, and bend over, and try and shave between your legs”

He smiled to himself; this was going to be humiliating and difficult. She looked at him as if you to say “you cannot be serious”. “Do it, turn around” he barked. Shouting it out proved more instructive. She turned around and faced the wall.

Now without her gaze he was free to look at her without the pressure of maintaining his authority. “Stay there a minute” he said as he started to luxuriate over her. Her shoulder blades struck out prominently and her back looked perfectly proportionate and athletic. He turned off the water, and ran his finger down the length of her spine. Her two butt cheeks were perfect little globes with no overhang at all over her thighs. He ran a hand from her ankle up to her neck and kneaded her buttocks. She leant forward to lean on the wall to stop herself from falling over. This parted her cheeks ever so slightly, which Pembroke suddenly took as an invitation, to launch his face into her crack. He closed his eyes and began devouring everything around his mouth. Dilan squeaked as he began gently biting and licking everywhere he could. His penis was now rock hard.

He took a few steps back. He saw the tiny figure of the girl, barefoot shaking and gasping. “OK now do what I told you, bend forwards and with one hand grab your ankle. With the other I want you to shave around your pussy lips and your bumhole.”

She hesitated, and tried to look around, and lost her balance, falling forwards she caught the wall to stop her fall. She stuttered and tried to look back again, with an utterly confused look on her face.

“Get to it!”

Dilan shuffled backwards on the leg spreader, then leaned forward again. She then crouched down, and grabbed her ankle, and slowly raised herself up.

“Higher” Pembroke shouted, as he realised she was cheating a little. She went a bit higher. It seemed quite uncomfortable, but she began waving the razor around her nether regions while gripping her right ankle with her other hand.

Pembroke crouched down to his honkers. Her bumhole and pussy looked so exposed. “I will do it” he snapped and grabbed the razor. There were not actually that many hairs and it was one in 10 seconds. He cupped her crotch and held his hand on her chest as he raised her back up.

“Now there is just one more step to cleaning you. “ He grabbed the shower head, which Dilan suddenly noticed was the shape of a small dildo. He had bought the smallest size he could find online. “I am just going to stick this up your bottom to clean you out.”

Dilan panicked, she had no idea what weird thing this was. She already knew she was going to be raped but this sounded even stranger. Everything about Mr Pembroke was weird and strange and evil.

“Push your bum out, come on Dilan” he chirruped and slapped her buttocks. “Please no, I don’t want to, please don’t do this to me, please PLLEASE….”

“SHUT UP” shouted Pembroke. “I will not take disobedience. I won’t have it. This is normal, it won’t hurt… much. You are going to be here a long time you will be CLEAN understand?”

“I’m scared” screamed Dilan.

“On your knees, let’s make this easier” said Pembroke. She knelt down and he pushed her head to the ground. She was forced to raise her bottom in the air. Her bumhole was exposed to Pembroke, who turned the water back on, it soon became warm and he sprayed it on her bumhole, nudging the shower head into her hole.

“Ah.. ah .. ah ….ah …”

“Just relax, its water, we will get it out soon.” Soothed Pembroke

“Its sore, its killing me…”

“Don’t be silly, I do this to myself. This will be over in a few moments.” He did do this to himself. He was a germaphobe and they would both be clean when they were down here.

“Now that’s it” he grinned as he turned off the water. “Now make your way over to the toilet and expel your bowels”

“What?”

“ Shit it out.. darling” he sighed. “When you are down here, we are going to work on your education. You will read books. Your English is good but it must improve. I have no interest in learning whatever your languages are, when I say something in English you will understand and obey it.”

Dilan felt the water shoot out of her. Loud rasping noises made her face go red.

“When did you last eat?”

“ Lunchtime..” she responded.

“Good, I will give you something to eat soon, after we are done.” He flushed the toilet, then brought Dilan back to the shower and bent her double before inserting the shower head back into her and turning he water back on. This time it was cold.

“Oh… oh… its cold its cold””

“Yes, it takes a while to warm up. Don’t worry in future you will do this yourself, and will learn how to get the warm water, the key is to wait. I am afraid my darling I am a little impatient. “

He brought her back over to the toilet until he was satisfied she was clean inside and out.

“Now, one last thing.” He brought over a toothbrush and tube of toothpaste, and brushed her teeth. “Open wide, stick that tongue out, let me clean that too.” He scrubbed her quite violently before releasing her. He then brought over a towel and scrubbed her dry. He guided her as she waddled over to the hook. Now, I want you to put your hands together. I am going to bind them together again, but this time in front of you so it will not as painful.

“When will you let me go?”

“I will answer that very soon, my darling. Now please, wrists together…” Dilan obediently held out her hands and Pembroke wrapped Velcro binds around her.. These were different to the restraints used earlier, which he had placed beside her torn off clothes and would need to be washed.

He then grabbed a cord off the wall, and after a few attempts successfully threw it through the open hook hanging from the ceiling. The sex sling was currently stored away and the hook was now simply there to suspend Dilan by the cord. He pulled the cord down, attached it to her restraints, and then began winding the cord upwards from a pulley lever system at the wall from which the cord came from like a power hose. Gradually, Dilan’s arms were raised.

“OOOOOOOOO PLEAseeee stop!!” as her feet left the ground.

“OK, a little less perhaps,” smiled Pembroke who was just testing the strength of the cord He lowered her down until he feet could touch the ground but her heels could not quite make full contact. The spreader bar, combined with the cord pulled up, served to completely immobilise her.

Her legs were spread taut. Her rib cage was pulled upwards and her stomach was stretched so that her belly button was almost protruding. Pembroke ran his hands over her legs, feeling the sinews strain as he kissed up and down. His hands rubbed over the ridges of her rib cage like the bumpy terrain of an undiscovered land.

“Is this painful” he asked

“A little” she responded, breathless.”

“Good, we will manage, let me shower and clean and we will have a chat.”

He went to the clothes pile, and dirty restraints, and carried them out of the room and up the stairs. Back in this normal house, his head spun. He put her clothes in a plastic bag and made a note to dispose of them asap. He put the restraints in the washing machine with other dirty clothes, and briefly stepped outside.

It was colder now. It was closer to 11 o clock. Tomorrow he would clean the car, throw away the clothes and he would have done all he could to get rid of the evidence. He felt more at peace than ever but also exhausted.

He went back down to the basement.

“I was just taking care of things in the outside world. Now, to clean myself up.”

“Dilan was standing trussed up legs akimbo still, her breathing had quickened and it was clear this was really uncomfortable for her. However, Pembroke first stepped to the side, stripped off and took as shower. He also used the anal douche head and cleaned himself on the bowl and in the shower. He then dried himself off, and, totally naked, walked in front of Dilan.

Dilan’s eyes widened. Until now he had been fully clothed. She had seen naked older before but this did not prepare her for this situation. Mr Pembroke had a greying chest hair and pubic hair, hairy legs, a large guy and a large penis handing semi erect. Dilan could not believe this was her maths teacher. She tried to think of something to take her mind off the sight in front of her.

“Now Dilan, we will have a talk….”

Chapter 25

Edward Pembroke had rarely felt comfortable being naked. His boxing had barely made a dent in his body fat. However, his attraction to younger girls had meant this was largely irrelevant. He had long since accepted that attraction was only going to go one way with him. The way he saw it, his body was strong and able to lock Dilan up and imprison her. Dilan’s body was only good for one thing, to attract him to her. And his body was good for one thing, to own her, for him. Both their bodies were fulfilling their purpose.

“Now Dilan, what has just happened, it’s been a surprise for you, I’m sure. Are you all right?”

“Sir, please, I feel faint…”

“Let me give you some wiggle room , then..” he allowed a little more cord to go through the hook, and Dilan was able to rest her feet fully on the floor, bend her knees a little, and relax her elbows slightly.

Pembroke moved back and stared in admiration at what he had done. This was his greatest achievement. Dilan was beautiful naked, her tummy was still tight and stretched concave. Her mons was smooth and disappeared into a tiny cleft that was barely visible. Her breasts were pointed upwards as a result of her arms still being pulled upwards, stretching her breasts over her rib cage. She looked like a slightly softer version of the Vietnamese girl fleeing from the napalm bombing. Her hourglass figure was exaggerated by her waist being sucked upwards and inwards above her pelvic bones.

“You are free to ask me whatever you want.”

“Why have you done this to me?”

“Dilan, I have wanted you since the moment I met you in the summer. From that point this was inevitable. I have worked on this…” he waved around him “and worked on my capture of you, for months.”

“Why me?”

“You are beautiful. You are young. You are just my type. And you are a victim, you are submissive and you will submit to me.”

“I have friends, I have family”

Pembroke noted she said ‘family ‘ in front of ‘friends’. “No, you don’t. If you did, you would not be here now. Other girls, the girls in your class, they are with their family now. It’s Christmas. They have families, they have lives where they are secure and looked after. You are a little lost sheep, you had no one to protect you. Well now I have caught you… and I won’t let you go…”

“My friends are looking for me, they’ll find us, the police will come…”

“I am interested in your friends, yes. Those boys… Tell me what you were doing tonight. Explain.”

Dilan went quiet.

“Tell me. It doesn’t matter now, but I want to know why you were going to Fiona’s house.”

“How do you know Fiona?” queried Dilan, her large eyes meeting his, she seemed genuinely confused. Pembroke smiled to himself. He had no clue about Fiona beyond knowing her name from Dilan’s file, other girls’ files, gossip among teachers and the idle chat of the stranger in the pub earlier that day. He decided to tell a little lie.

“I make it my business to know everyone here. A woman who fosters beautiful young girls is a great asset to have.” He gloated.

“What happened to her?”

Pembroke realised that it might seem that he had got rid of Fiona as part of his scheme. It had not occurred to him that his appearance at Fiona’s house was so strange and that she might not believe she had actually left the country and changed her locks.

“She is fine; she is taking a break from fostering for the moment. She doesn’t get enough money from it, she makes a lot more from providing some sweet little bitches for hungry wolves like me…” he laughed theatrically. He realised he could only keep this up for so long without looking ridiculous and longed to start touching her again. He did enjoy the confusion on Dilan’s face, would she believe Fiona had literally sold her out? He wanted her to doubt every connection she ever had.

“So tell me what you were going to do tonight?”

“I dunno…” she mumbled.

“You must tell me the truth… I will get to it sooner or later. I will have to go through your phones and your laptop later…” He didn’t want to tell her he had already dumped those.

“I wanted to spend Christmas with Fiona…. I had no place to go” she said meekly.

“Who are your friends you stay wit in the hotels?”

“My boyfriend, Abdul… him and his friends…” she replied bashfully.

“Now Dilan, I find your last few months spent in this country very interesting. Like I said, the reason you are here is because your life is a mess. It isn’t your fault of course, you are only thirteen and you came to this country as a refugee. The government here failed you, and your family failed you. That’s why you’re here. “

“My parents died…”

“I’m sorry, but that is my gain and your loss. They are victims and you are one of them. That’s your lot. Nice girls from nice families like Lucy Gibbons…” she saw Dilan bite her lip at the mention of her bully… “they get nice things, they get to look for nice boyfriends. Girls like you… even nice girls like you… they don’t get to choose their boyfriends. Their boyfriends choose them… and you got chosen by me.”

Suddenly Dilan started babbling in Turkish or Kurdish… surprising Pembroke. She started becoming hysterical and began to twist around and yank down on the cord. It didn’t’’ budge. He waited and admired both the strength of the equipment, and the movement of her body. There was not an ounce of body fat save for the swelling on her breasts and the plump globes of her buttocks.

Her head swung back and forth and she shut her eyes and her hair flew from side to side. Pembroke stared, fascinated, his heart racing. Physically he could crush her, yet she was still a little tiger. What an unfortunate life. Pembroke had thrown away his advantages and committed terrible crimes. This girl was perfectly lovely and normal and had she grown up in an English family, she could look forward to a nice husband and a nice career. The unfairness of it all. This is how humans react to that unfairness, they go crazy, especially at such a young age when it’s still so hard to accept life is not fair.

Pembroke waited, then deliberately slapped her across the face. It worked just like in the old movies. Her face flew back, and her body went limp. She then hung forwards, and her head hung down, her dark curly hair falling down. He pushed the hair, still wet, back, and pushed her head back and she slowly regained her footing. He gripped her jaw then his hand fell to her neck.

“I can kill you any time I want. Any time you are disobedient, any time you are an inconvenience, any time you fail to please me. Your life belongs to me, not just your body. You will behave yourself in my presence.” He moved his face close to hers, till their eyes were centimetres apart, and pressed his thumb into the front of her throat. Her mouth gawped open, and her eyes gazed into his, pleading for him to release the pressure.

Suddenly, he released her throat and stepped back.

“Now, tell me what you were doing this evening.”

Dilan breathed deeply, her rib cage rising and her concave stomach sucking in air. Tears streamed from her eyes, and a little dribble of blood oozed down her chin from the slap. She was starting to show the bruises and cuts more prominently from the attack earlier that night.

Dilan started to open up. Abdul, her boyfriend, had wanted her to stay with him in the hotel but she wanted away from him. Fiona was her one safe space so had walked from the hotel to her place.

“And the rest is history” smiled Pembroke. “Now, tell me about Abdul…”

Dilan hesitated. She had hated Abdul earlier today but now he was arguably her best chance of freedom from this crazy person.

“He is my boyfriend. He will be looking for me now. He knows your car. He knows Fiona. He can find you. Please just let me go, I won’t tell him…”

Pembroke was slightly perturbed that he might “know his car” and wanted to probe this further. However, this seemed like empty threats regarding Fiona, with whom he no connection.

“How would he know anything about me?”

“He protected me from all the creeps. He will track you down. He loves me…”

Pembroke started to reassure himself that he was having a conversation with a child and that he had to bear this in mind. He pretended to be deep in thought and walked around Dilan, taking another view of her athletic body from behind.

“That wasn’t my car, tonight. You told me tonight you had seen my car before, but there is no way you or Abdul would know I was following you. There are lots of men lusting after you, girl. Frankly, I don’t think Abdul loves you at all. I have seen him with you, and I’ve seen him with other pretty girls too.”

He sensed her discomfort.

“You are made to be a slave to the more powerful, my dear. Abdul is a young kid, with no job apart from sleeping with and pimping out girls that are far too young for him. No woman his own age will touch him.”

“What about you. You’re so … old… why do you want me… why … I’m too young for you…”

Pembroke lunged forward to answer this stupid question.

“You are gorgeous, Ms Barzini. I find you very, very sexually attractive. In fact I find you so sexy…” he suddenly wrapped his arms around her and moved his mouth close to hers…” that I just took you…” with that he clamped his mouth on hers. It was their first kiss. Her mouth was tiny compared to his. “Open your mouth…” he mumbled and started sucking on her lips, and moving his tongue around her mouth. He opened his eyes and could not believe he was doing this. Up close, her skin was perfect, her skin so smooth, as he rubbed it up and down.

Dilan was shocked by the kiss. It repulsed her. His breath smelt of alcohol. His large tongue took up most of her mouth and seemed to want to slip down her throat. It seemed to go on forever…

They broke apart, a long string of saliva remained suspended between their mouths.

“I don’t care whether you find me attractive, that’s not important. What is important is that I find you attractive and you better make sure I keep finding you attractive. What you have to worry about is pleasing me. I own you now, that’s what I needed to do, it was difficult, but I have done it, and so you are here.”

Dilan looked stunned. The kiss just seemed to be confirmation that this was this old man, she had known as a creepy old pervert, who was going to be romantic partner, her new boyfriend. She would have thrown up had she eaten anything.

“Tell me about Abdul. I want to know about this loser whose girl I’ve stolen” laughed Pembroke

Dilan looked stumped. She started to sob. Pembroke wanted to kiss her again. He wanted information though. He was genuinely curious. He had a feeling it would take a lot to coax out of her, her story about Abdul and the other migrants, which he was guessing involved a lot of abuse.

“Are you a virgin” it suddenly occurred to him to ask…

“No,” mumbled Dilan, her eyes downcast.

“No what? “

Dilan looked up with a puzzled look on her face, Pembroke drew his hand back as if to strike her…

“No…. sir.”

“No sir” gasped Dilan “Please don’t hit me”

“Please don’t hit me…?”

“Please don’t hit me sir!”

Pembroke relaxed. “Good girl. How many men have fucked you?”

Dilan swallowed.

“How many? And remember to say sir, are you will be beaten”

“Eight…” she said quickly “eight sir”

Pembroke paused for thought. “Including Abdul?”

“Yes sir.”

“Have you had sex with men for money?”

“Not me”

Pembroke casually swatted across the face, it did not take much to knock her sideways with an open palm. “Always remember to say sir”

“Not me sir”

“What does that mean?”

“Sir they never gave me any money”

Pembroke suddenly laughed at her stress on the word “me”. He had suspected as such. “Did Abdul tell you to have sex with these men?”

“Yes sir, I had sex with men that Abdul told me to, or his friends.”

“Do you have any diseases, did they wear condoms.”

“Not Abdul… “

Pembroke cursed. Fuck. This Abdul could be HIV positive for all he knew. He had not bought a single condom to complement the thousands of pounds worth of bondage equipment, lingerie, contraception and building work. He was aware of home testing kits for HIV, and other STD diseases. He would have to get hold of these as a soon as possible.

“Dilan. Can you not see that you are meant to be down here?”

“Why sir?”

“You are being used already, you are honestly better off down here. Down here you will have some time off and I will take good care of you. I may be ugly to you but I guarantee I will give you some pleasure.”

“Can I still ask questions?”

“Call me sir” he swatted her with two fingers, enough to hurt her as it touched the graze on the side of her face.

“Can I ask questions sir?”

“Yes”

“When will you let me go?”

“I will let you go when I want to let you go. For the foreseeable future, I will not be letting you go. I have prepared a lot for you, and you frankly just too beautiful to be let out of here. And of course you would say you promise not to tell anyone if I let you go right…”?

“Yes sir, I swear”

Pembroke smiled. “No, I don’t believe you.”

“I will, I would do anything to go, sir”

“You will do anything I want, not anything you want. And once you are out of here you will be back to being that little bitch that laughed at me in class. You will be at the police in no time.”

“No sir, I just want to get out”

“Where would you go?” He asked, genuinely confused.

“I can go back to Turkey… sir”

“Ha! No you won’t . And you won’t see your family again either.”

“Please, sir”

“I might let you go, but it will be a couple of years at least. You will be here for at least a couple of years. You better just understand that.”

Dilan went silent. “Can I get my stuff?”

He sighed and grabbed her hair and pulled it as she screamed.

“I don’t want to hurt you, but you need to remember instructions. Call me sir”

“Sir can I get my stuff?”

“What stuff, what more is there?”

“My family stuff, it’s at the hotel.”

Pembroke stirred. If her family stuff, whatever that was, was lying around that could cause an issue. If she was going to vanish surely she would not leave that lying around. He also sensed it might be a trap.

“It’s with Abdul’s things. I can go and get it and bring it here…. sir!”

“No you won’t be leaving.” He thought to ask her quickly before she had time to plan some kind of trap.

“How can I get it for you?”

“Sir, it all in room 203 at the hotel Kingston…. It’s in a green suitcase. “

“How am I supposed to get in there?”

“There is a fob key in suitcase… sir”

Pembroke narrowed his eyes. He walked back to the gyna table. He found a white card and brought it over.

“This is a pass for room 203 and I could go in and get your green suitcase and bring it out?”

“Yes, please sir I would like to have it if you are not going to let me go.”

“Who stays in the room?”

“Abdul, sir”

Pembroke thought to himself. It sounded like a trap but he had come to realise Dilan was not the brightest spark and was very shaken. If what she said was true, it could be important to get her things out of the hotel. If he could bring it out, it would lead to further evidence that she had moved out and disappeared of her own accord, and would lead people to believe she had been active after her actual disappearance. It would certainly seem suspicious to the likes of Abdul if she disappeared with her things still in his room.

On the other hand, did he need this suitcase?

“It’s too late tonight.. I will get it tomorrow” replied Pembroke. “What other things and possessions do you have? Tell me about your friends at school. And tell me about your family in Manchester.”

Dilan responded briefly about her extended family and half heartedly mentioned they would be looking for her. She also said the school would be looking for her and they might search his house if she didn’t come to class. He figured he was relatively safe but did want to check out this hotel tomorrow.

Dilan was growing tired from the bondage, her injuries, the shock and the fact it was well past midnight and was now Christmas day. She pleaded to be allowed to sleep, though Pembroke persisted in questioning. Sleep deprivation was a useful torture technique, he had read, and he wanted to know as much as possible about her background before she had the chance to build a story.

At last, he grew tired himself. “I will get you down in two minutes. I just want to feel you again.” He approached and kissed her again. She opened her mouth, her tongue stayed I the floor of her mouth while he again explored every crevice of her gums, teeth and throat before sucking out her tongue. He then slowly licked up and down her face. His tongue brushed over hr eyelashes while she hung limply. Dilan was exhausted and couldn’t find the will to resist.

Pembroke sunk to his knees. He stared up at her smooth cleft, and noted a small shaving cut. He brought his mouth up and clamped it over her vagina. He barely got any purchase on her lips which were small and thin. She moaned at the feeling of this stubble burning the inside of her thighs and his hot tongue flickering against her tender flesh. He suddenly jumped around the back of her, and buried his face between her cheeks. He pulled them apart and ran his finger over the top of her bumhole, massaging the sphincter and savouring the feeling of the little crater. He stuck his tongue against it, and pointed hard while trying to twist it into her.

Dilan was shocked. It felt pleasurable but really strange. His tongue began to lap up and down again from the top of her pussy to the top of her butt cheeks, then up her spine, and into her ear.

He would not have sex with her tonight. Hhe played with his penis, and pumped his cum all over her lower back.

He felt great. He wiped the cum off her back, “put this in your mouth and swallow it” he forced it into her. She winced as she swallowed the sour taste. She was hungry as hell but her appetite was off.

Pembroke was suddenly exhausted. All he wanted to do was go to bed. He could not trust Dilan to sleep in her normal bed, but could not leave her suspended like this. He released her from the cord in the hook, and she was able to lower her arms. He lifted her up and carried her to the gynaecological tale.

“For tonight, you will stay here. You will have more comfortable conditions soon don’t worry. “

He lay her down on the table. He lowered the leg rests until she was horizontal from foot to head.

“I’m going to take off these cuffs, when I do I want you to shake your arms for a minute, because after that they are going to be tied to your sides soon for the night, so shake them up now.”

She shook her hands in the air and moved bent her arms at the elbows. Meanwhile, he took off the leg spreaders. “Move your legs around a bit, again, you’re going to be strapped in again shortly.”

She crossed her legs and brought them up to her chest. He wondered if he needed to tie her legs, poor thing, while he fixed her wrists to D-loops near her hips. “As a treat on your first night, I will let you legs loose, you won’t get off this table anyway with your hands tied to these.”

Dilan looked exhausted and it struck her she was battling to stay awake. She was now on her back lying prone with just her wrists tied to rings at the side of the table by her waist.

“I will be down tomorrow morning sweetheart” he bent down and kissed her lips. With that he staggered out the door, locked the cage, the padded door and the basement door, climbed up the stairs and locked the door under the stairs. He staggered to bed, naked, and exhausted. What. A. Day.