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 32
Pembroke stopped himself after his second glass of wine. He had some chocolate and cheese to prevent having an empty stomach and took a shower, shaved, and brushed his teeth. He picked out a black T-shirt, black trousers, and some black trainers, feeling this was the most fitting outfit. He checked all the doors of the house and went back up to check the screens. Dilan was now standing, leaning against the gyno table, and playing with a piece of fabric — a T-shirt — in her hand. She remained in her green panties and black vest. Pembroke licked his lips, turned on the microphone. She instantly looked up, and he realized there seemed to be an unavoidable noise at the start of any broadcast.
“Dilan, this is your master. I am going to come down and visit you in ten minutes. You have ten minutes to make sure you have gone to the toilet, brushed your teeth, showered yourself, and taken good care to clean the inside of your bottom — remember! Before this, walk over to your clothes pile.”
Dilan complied and stopped beside the pile. ‘Try and find a red pair of panties.’ She went through them, then held a red thong in her hands. ‘Hold it above your head,’ she held it aloft. ‘Is it a thong?’ He listened for a response; he saw her open her mouth, but no sound. Dammit. ‘I am sorry, Dilan, I cannot hear you. It’s not your fault; the microphone is not working. Now instead, nod to me. Is it a thong?’ Dilan nodded. ‘Excellent choice! Now pick out a bra of any color.’ She picked a white bra and held it aloft. ‘That will do. You don’t need any more clothes. Now put those on the gyna table…’ she looked around. ‘The white table to your left.’ She moved to the gyna table and put the underwear there. ‘Now, you have ten minutes, so get to it. See you soon!’
Pembroke sat back and watched. She ran to get the toothbrush, ran it under the shower, and started to brush while sitting on the toilet. After a few minutes, she got off and flushed, then ran the water again. She washed the toothbrush and left it on the cistern while she waited for the water to turn warm. Pembroke waited; he wanted to see if she could use the showerhead and clicked for a better view on a different camera. He flicked on a remote extractor fan to avoid steam, the control switch being in his study beside two other switches that controlled the light of the study and a hall light outside. It amused Pembroke to think of all the buttons that seemed to do nothing but which every house had.
He watched as Dilan stuck her bum out, holding onto the wall with one hand, while she tried to fit it inside her. She winced, pursed her lips, then dipped her head down while her hand bunched up into a fist against the wall. Eventually, she pulled the showerhead out, and she jerked upright, clutching her buttocks with both hands as the head dropped to the floor. The area around the shower was sloped toward the drain, though he noted the head was now spraying towards the center of the room. He hoped this would not be something of a disciplinary matter he would have to deal with.
Dilan turned her back against the wall, and he saw the beginning of a jet of water spring from her bowels before he turned away. He then watched her shower the wall and floor of the shower before crouching down and fitting it back into her bowels. Pembroke had read that constant anal douching was not healthy, so he resolved not to make this a daily habit for her. After a third douching, he announced, ‘Make sure everything is clear, Dilan. I will be down in a few minutes.’”
Pembroke turned off the monitors and checked his phone one last time, including searching her name on twitter. He got the wine bottle and poured the remains into a plastic container, and took two plastic cups and put them in his pocket. He then made his way downstairs.
Dilan dried herself furiously; she had not washed her hair as she considered it clean enough. She had checked the last douching, and only clear water had shot out of her bowels. She had quickly lathered herself in soap before a final rinsing. She raced towards the gyna table and tried to get the red thong the right way around and untwist it. She pulled it up, realized it was twisted, and had to take it off and put it back on. She took the bra, and at that moment, she heard the door open. She continued to put the bra on, and Pembroke caught her as she was still fixing her bra. “Just in time!” He smiled. He punched the code in for the door and entered. “You look great. Turn around.” Dilan turned; Pembroke noticed that the thong fitted perfectly despite her narrow hips and small buttocks. She was standing straight up, and he could see her thigh gap, and then the thin red line of her thong the whole way up her buttocks did not quite touch in the middle.
Pembroke approached her and held her shoulders, and turned her around. He kissed her. Dilan closed her eyes, and opened them briefly to see his giant face in her. It was overwhelming to feel his desire and his large hands planted on each of her butt cheeks. “Put your arms around me” he commanded.
She complied, allowing his tongue to explore her mouth, like a warm, forceful worm. He tasted fresh, as if he had just brushed his teeth. Closing her eyes tightly, she tried to think of something else. Taylor Swift’s ‘Cruel Summer’ suddenly played in her mind, bouncing around. His hand moved up, digging into the back of her head and massaging her scalp.
He paused and said, “I want you to stick your tongue out… come on.” Automatically, Dilan shut her mouth. After a brief moment of silence, she stuck her tongue out, and he enveloped it with his lips, sucking on it. Their noses pressed together, and his tongue started to explore its way back into her mouth.
He broke off again, saying, “Okay, now I’m going to stick my tongue out, and I want you to suck it.” Dilan instinctively closed her mouth. After a brief pause, she opened it and welcomed his tongue. Swirling deep inside her mouth, it almost reached the back of her throat.
After a few more minutes, he let her go. She wiped her mouth free of the saliva covering her mouth. Her eyes were watering. “That was amazing” he said, wiping his own mouth and chin. He grabbed her hand. “Let’s try this.” He pointed to the fucking bench. “Kneel on those pads.” She did so, and he then pushed her forwards. “I’m not going to lock you in or anything” He said, getting close to her ears.” I just want to check you out.” He rubbed his large hands all over her, under and over her bra strap, feeling her bones underneath her buttocks, and massaging so deeply that she squealed in pain. “I’m sorry, kid, you are just too much.” Like an animal he bit into her left butt cheek. He sucked as hard as he could, trying not to use his teeth. She started bucking and jerking wildly, slapping her hands against the sides of the machine and shaking her head up and down, in reaction to the pain. He kept his mouth clasped around her flesh as her bum moved back and forth. Letting go, he grinned and saw the red mark his mouth had made. That would be a bruise tomorrow. He ran his hand up her back and clawed his way down with his fingernails leaving four red trails. She shot a hand back to hold his hand but could not stop his hand drawing down until he reached her thong. He ran a finger under the fabric and down her tailbone slowly, pressing against flesh, until he eventually reached the rough opening of her bumhole. He held his finger there, and watched her gripping the sides of the bench, arching her back, her head bowing down then shooting up, dealing with the sensations.
He took his finger away, and pulled the thong string to one side, taking look at her nether regions. He let the thong snap back and then ran his tongue up and down the thin red fabric covering her modesty. His tongue darted to the side and the bare flesh of her inner thighs which made her jump and almost giggle and make a series of high pitched squeaks. His tongue ran the length of her inner pelvic ridge, nudging the thong fabric, until he met her lips. Impatiently he pulled the nylon away and began lapping the flesh directly. “Oohhhh” cried Dilan. He was glad she was enjoying this. He began chewing on the top of her lips where her clitoris was, his top lip stubble pressed against her vaginal opening, and his nose pressed into her bumhole. His eyes could see over her spine and he saw the rippling of her back as her body gyrated.
He moved up and began circling around her bumhole with his tongue, trying to stab it in. He hoped she liked this, while he loved doing this, he would eventually be making her lick his own bumhole, so this was part of the preparation. She moaned and periodically exhaled loudly.
Her reaction changed when he moved down to her feet. Just a little tickle of her feet provoked a scream, which he stopped with a quick slap to her buttocks. She had been barefoot all day, and despite recently showering he would normally have been weary of licking her feet but he could not resist her delicate little soles. He lapped his tongue up and down and across her instep.
Dilan’s head shot up, and she tried to lift her foot almost kicking him in the head. Pembroke laughed “Babe, sorry but I’m gonna lock you in for this one.” He pushed her back down and gripped her left calf, before wrapping the velcro restraint around one ankle, then the other ankle. He then went back to hungrily feasting on her feet, and her toes. “Aaaa,, no . no no! stop no ..! “ she continued as if he was cutting into her. He just switched his mouth to her other foot, while gently tickling the other with his fingers. She moved back and her bum moved down close to his head but she could nothing to stop the attack on her feet. He continued licking with a smile on his face while she slapped the sides of the bench furiously, shaking violently and making gurning noises through obviously clenched teeth. Her two buttocks moved from side to side displaying her stress.
Eventually he decided she had enough though he could have feasted on her for hours more. She got up and out of the bench after he untied her. She was out of breath; a sheen of sweat now covered her chest and back. He held a finger at the base of her spine to scoop up a little droplet and put it in his mouth.
While she recovered herself, he went back to the cage and picked up the plastic container of wine and the two cups which were on the ground, and brought them to the table. There was just one chair downstairs. He sat down and poured two cups.
“Come sit on my lap” She obeyed and came over, slowly. “Have you ever drank wine before?” “ I don’t really like alcohol…. Uuugh” she was still a little out of breath. “Well have some, did you have an orgasm?” “I don’t know…” “You don’t know what…?” he gently tapped the side of her hips as she sank on top of his thigh. His penis grew large under his trousers. “I think so… sir”
“Good, well here is to many more, cheers and merry Christmas!” he picked up his cup, and clinked it against hers. He savoured her taste in his mouth for one last second before drinking his wine. Dilan winced as she tasted the bitter and unfamiliar alcohol.
“Tell me about what Abdul did to you. Tell me a story.” He said, slapping her fleshy part of her hips. She was so bony that he could almost feel her tailbone pressing down on his thigh.
Dilan gulped down another mouthful of wine, before opening up on her tales with Abdul. She had met him outside the school some months ago, and he was friends with other pupils. They used to hang out at the hotel.
“He told me he loved me, I didn’t believe him, but I had no one else. It’s hard not having anyone.”
“Come on tell me, give me the full story…”
Dilan hesitated then spoke about how Abdul and the others had brought them out, talking, smoking, before she moved into her foster carers. He told how Fiona had at first been protective of the girls in her house. However, boys kept showing up.
One night, a man named Ibrahim, started throwing stones at her window. She had no idea who it was when she opened the window. She had told him to go away, worried she would get into trouble.
The next day outside school, she told Abdul, who told her he would keep the guys away from her. She had felt safe with him. After a few weeks, she had gone back to his hotel room, and they had sex. She didn’t elaborate, Pembroke was just getting horny and his hand kept circling her belly button. He really should hear this through.
Dilan continued, and started feeling dizzy. The wine was having an effect. Her voice became slightly slurred and she was talking quicker. She described the first time that Abdul had told her she would have to sleep with another man.
Dilan had come back from school straight to the hotel. Abdul had told her they would chill and watch some TV. She already had the token card to get straight in. As soon as she got in , Abdul had got angry.
“Where the fuck you been?” he shouted at her. He sounded drugged out. “Why, what’s the hurry?” she asked.
“Listen, you’re gonna do something for me, OK, I need a big favour.” Dilan was still puzzled. The truth became clear. Abdul started talking about how he owed money to someone, and how she needed to help him out. It soon became clear to Dilan what she was being asked to do.
“It will be fine, just an hour, he’s a nice guy, it’ll be great money. After this, we’’ go out to Nandos…”
Dilan began to cry. This was the UK. Her supposed safe haven. It was no better than Turkey or Syria with her mother. She was so young… was this going to be how it would be for the rest of her life?
“Who is he?”
“Some rich guy, don’t worry he’s nice, he’s not gonna hurt you.”
He told her to go into the bathroom and clean herself, and get back into her school uniform. They continued to sit in silence, watching TV. Maybe he wouldn’t show up? Suddenly, Abdul got a call. She went into the bathroom to speak. After two minutes he came out. “Right, he’s gonna be here in two minutes. Look you’re gonna to everything he wants, right? If I find you’ve been a frigid bitch or anything, I’m fucked..”
“Where will you be?”
“I’m not gonna be here” he laughed. “I’ll be waiting downstairs; make sure he doesn’t rob anything.”
Eventually there was a knock on the door. Abdul opened it, and a clean cut man in a suit walked in. He looked about fifty, with a wedding ring on his finger, and incredibly nervous.
“Come in good sir,” said Abdul… and gestured towards Dilan “see the goods?”
“Hello” came the awkward reply. The man sounded important but also clearly nervous.
“Just for the record, she’s eighteen..” said Abdul. There was a silence, broken by Abdul’s laughter. “Alright man, you like what you see yeah? What about the money…”
The man handed over an envelope. Abdul peered in and counted what looked like an awful amount of notes. “Excellent. OK, take as long as you want, man, oi Dilan! “ he shouted towards her, “Dilan, you do everything this gentleman asks.” He turned back to the man “Don’t be shy with her, let me know if she refuses anything, I’ll make her sorry, you hear that Dilan!”
Dilan looked back, shocked and apprehensive.
“I should be done by about seven I think or before then” said the man, as if he were described sending a well crafted lawyers email. It was five o’clock, Dilan noted.
“Cool! any problems, gimme a call” Abdul waved and went out the door.
The man was not someone Dilan did or would ever recognise. He was an IT architect, married with three daughters in and around Dilan’s age. He had seen several escorts and by word of mouth, it had reached Abdul that there was a pervert interested in young girls. Abdul had got his number, met him coming out of a slightly more legal brothel, and bombarded him with some naked pictures he had taken of Dilan. The man eventually relented; this was an opportunity from heaven for him. He had paid Abdul £2,000.00 for this meeting, and looking at Dilan in her school uniform, he told himself he would make it worth it.
Dilan sighed and asked “So… what would you like to do…”
“I want to take some pictures of you…” he said. Dilan relented; she gradually lost her clothes, and dealt with the man’s amorous advances until he eventually climaxed within a condom inside her. The man breathed heavily for a few moments, before suddenly getting up, staring at her, then he quickly got dressed. He spent five minutes triple checking his belongings, and then started searching the room.
“Whats wrong” asked the naked Dilan, pulling up the duvet to her chin.
“Is there any secret camera here?” he asked.
“No… honest, I don’t think so, it’s not my room…”
The man sat down and put his head in his hands. He exhaled and exclaimed. “I’m sorry” then abruptly walked out.
Dilan remained in bed, picking up the condom, and throwing it in the bin. About twenty minutes later, Abdul walked in. He noted Dilan was naked under the covers.
“How was it? Where is he, he never answered my messages?”
“I think he felt guilty and ran off”
“Ha, well not bad money for less than an hour’s work. Hundred pounds he paid me, let’s split it yeah?” He handed her two twenty pound notes and a tenner. “And, as well, I’m taking you out to nando’s , Imm starving…”
Dilan changed into jeans and a top and jacket. Later in Nandos she asked him “Abs, did you put cameras in the room?”
“No, why?”
“He was paranoid, when he left he was checking for them and asked me, I said no, that was when he left saying sorry…”
Abdul momentarily stopped shovelling chicken in his mouth. “I didn’t… but man that’s not a bad idea.. here ,we could blackmail these perverts! If they can pay to fuck you… they can pay to keep the video off the internet… there’s loads of men that wanna fuck you Dilan, and they’d all be in prison if the cops found out… man I gotta look into that.”
Dilan was dismayed… “You said it was just this one guy, that it was to cover some money. And it was only a hundred pounds??”
“Gotta make money some way.” He laughed. “Don’t’ worry babe, we won’t if you don’t’ wanna do it, let’s forget about it for now.”
“I only did this tonight cos you forced me, you tricked me, putting me on the spot like that… I’m not that kind of girl..”
“You are now” laughed Abdul. “Come on, eat up, let’s talk about something else…”
Dilan relayed the story to Pembroke. “A hundred pounds are you sure?” he asked incredulously. Dilan closed her eyes. The only detail that put him out. Not that a married man old enough to be her father had paid to have sex with her, or that she had been messed around by a criminal boyfriend. No one actually treated her like a child victim.
She recalled lying on the beach with her mother back in Antalya. All their belongings were next to them. They were now homeless after their landlord kicked them out, and her mother was still injured from the red headed man’s brutal rape of her the night before.
“Never trust men, Dilan. Never rely on them. They are not like us. They are animals, they hate us, they hate each other. Some of them just hide it better than others. I hate this country. When we get to England, I will get a normal job. And you, you are smart, you will get an education, you’ll go to university, and you won’t to rely on any fucking man. Then you can take care of your old mother in her old age.” She and her mother hugged, watching the waves. They both fell asleep on the beach as the darkness drew in.
Chapter 33
Pembroke checked his watch. It was eleven o’clock. He should get to his own bed, but did not feel like departing just yet. “Let’s go to bed together for a while. I think we both need a rest. “
He pushed her up, and took her by the hand. They walked to the apparition door, and Pembroke pulled her in front of him, and put a hand over her eyes, while he punched in the code. “Open sesame…”
Dilan sat on the bed, while Pembroke finally disrobed. He reminded her of some of the older men Abdul had forced on her. He folded his clothes and placed them on the cupboard. He was clad only in black boxer shorts. She could not be anything but disgusted with his large body, his chest and shoulders and lightly covered in hair, and his fat accumulating around his waist and spilling over his boxers. His forearms betrayed a wiry strength and she knew he could snap her like a twig. She cursed her weakness.
“Let me lie on this side” he pointed to the far side closed to the apparition. He collapsed down on the bed, rolled towards her , and grabbed and pulled her down and into his embrace in a spooning position. His arms enveloped her, and his face nuzzled into the back of her neck after he pushed her hair out of the way.
She didn’t feel in the least bit tired. She hoped he would not be sleeping with her every night. On the other hand, she wondered if she could escape while he slept. She knew she would struggle to open the apparition door tonight, but in the future if she could find out the code….? There were still the codes to the cage, and the main door, and god knows what else behind. She didn’t think she could get free of his bear like embrace of her. He wasn’t sleeping, he seemed to be just cuddling her like a car toys with a mouse. She felt a finger trace a path down her stomach, and on then draw little circlers around the front of her crotch. Suddenly it reached up and around, and unclasped her bra. “More comfortable with that off, I think”
Dilan struggled to get free a little, just to take the bra off. She settled back down, and immediately felt a hand tweak her nipples while the other went back down to her crotch.
After many minutes of gentle massaging and gyrating against her crotch, the hand came back out around her bottom and into her crack. It found its way under her thong, and the fingers caressed up and down, from tailbone to the top of her vagina.
Dilan couldn’t help responding to the sensation. It would be wrong to say she was aroused, but she was definitely… something. She noticed he did not have an unpleasant smell, he smelt of slightly gone off milk, and was not as smelly as a Pakistani businessman who had paid Abdul, who had licked every inch of her body while masturbating. The shock of that man’s gross behaviour chipped further away at any admiration she may have had of men.
Pembroke began digging two fingers inside her. The first went into her bumhole, feeling the soft velvety flesh inside. The next went into her vagina, feeling the scaly insides. He marvelled at the subtle differences, and twisted his fingers around to see if he could get them to touch together through the film of flesh that separated her two passages down there.
Dilan kept sighing and couldn’t help but gyrate her hips. Her hand went to Pembroke’s wrist, Pebroke let her grip him, he could not tell whether she was guiding him, or trying to push his hand away. He raised his head to look down at her face from above, and began lapping the side of her face, after each lick, he took another admiring glance of her face from the side, her eyes closed, her mouth open and breathing heavily and the trace of is saliva glistening over her cheekbones.
Eventually, he tired, and pulled his fingers out, and brought them to her mouth. “Suck my fingers” He pushed them into her mouth. She kept it firmly closed “Open up!” This time she complied, and he ran his fingers all around the inside of her mouth and then deep into her throat, until she started to choke and cough.
He took his fingers out and kissed her. He then brought his hand back down. She wondered what he was doing. He suddenly felt him masturbating, and the bed shook. After a minute, she felt a hot thick liquid spray over her back. There was a loud exhalation from her captor, and she felt his hard penis nudge into her back as he resumed his bear like hug from behind. After a minute he broke off again, wiped the cum off her back, and brought the hand to her mouth. “Swallow this.” He said.
She obeyed, trying to get it down her throat as fast as possible to get rid of the salty taste. “Now I will leave you alone, I think it’s best if I sleep in my own bed tonight. Do you need the toilet oranything?” She shook her head.
“Right, well, that was an amazing evening.” He pulled all his clothes back on including his shoes. “Right, well have a good night’s sleep” he smiled while he punched in a code while covering his hand. “Good night babe” She heard him walk around the rest of the basement. He was obviously checking various things. After a few more minutes, she heard the cage and then her light went out. Then the padded door, and then silence…
Pembroke decided against taking a shower. It was well after midnight. He was exhausted but also elated. Tomorrow as another holiday but he still had a lot to do. He flopped into bed, and fell asleep within minutes.
Chapter 34
The following morning, Pembroke awoke and went straight to the monitors. He saw Dilan was awake, with her lamp on, and was now making a start on a book under the covers. He smiled and made himself a coffee. He looked at the harsh rain falling and the white car outside. He would clean the insides out later, when the weather cleared a little.
He wondered what to make her for breakfast. He got together another tray of food including fruit, cereal and a plastic glass of water and brought it down. Dilan heard him enter but could not get through the bedroom apparition door. Pembroke arranged the breakfast on the table, then opened the bedroom door after briefly checking on the screen that she was not planning to attack him.
“Good morning my dear Dilan. Did you sleep well?”
“Hi sir”
“Now, you must not address me like that, you used ‘sir’ which was good , but ‘hi’ is too flippant word for a girl to address her superior, which I am. ‘Yes, sir’ would be better.”
“Yes, sir”.
“Good, now there is breakfast on the table, and you may use the toilet.”
Dilan trudged out slowly and gingerly, he could not help but feel like she was scared he would hit her, or just grossed out by his presence. He remained impassive. The pervert in him had fantasised about enacting erotic punishments at the slightest infringement, but the teacher in him thought of the practicalities and how to mould her.
“Do your business. I will be down to join you in about half an hour. Remember to brush your teeth and clean yourself.” He punched in the code to go out of the cage. “Oh, and you will want to change. After your shower, you can change and wear anything you want, except for jeans, but remember it will be coming off!” He smiled.
He went back upstairs and had his own breakfast. He checked the news, and messages. Perhaps he should “do” something today. He googled the meetup website and other local things. There was a music service in a church will looked interesting. Everything else seemed to relate to sports and hiking. He did not want anything that lasted more than a few hours. He decided to go to a local history talk. It sounded boring as hell, but he wanted to be seen to be normal and not be stuck indoors all Christmas. The gym, which he attended sparingly at the best of times, was still closed.
After showering and brushing his teeth, he dressed in slacks and jumper, and put on some trainers. He stared ruefully out the window. The rain looked like going on all day.
He went downstairs, and checked the screen before entering. Dilan was walking around, inspecting the fucking bench this time. He suspected she might be looking for something to use as a weapon and watched her for a minute before entering.
“Morning again! Hope you enjoyed your breakfast, I want you nice and healthy!” He punched in the code, making a mistake before getting it right. The position of the numbers rearranged themselves, to stop Dilan from being able to get the code by watching the position of his finger presses. In any event, she would still need to get past the padded door, the basement door, and the upstairs door.
Dilan was wearing loose black tracksuit bottoms, and a loose yellow t shirt, with socks and trainers.
“Trainers off, now.” Pembroke clicked his fingers. “Sorry I did not tell you earlier, there is absolutely no need for you to wear shoes unless I want it. Perhaps in the future but practically speaking, you are better in socks or bare feet. Those look like nice trainers, but I’m afraid they are going to go the bin…”
Dilan did not say anything, but slowly took them off, and set them beside her. “Bring them to me, and put them down on the ground in front of me, then walk back to where you were…” he commanded. She picked them, and did so sullenly. She refused to meet his eye.
“I think I detect some resentment, young lady.” Pembroke puffed out his chest, this called for some performance from him. He had to clamp down on this but also did not want to physically hurt her… yet.
“I understand, I’ve kidnapped you. Its not what you were hoping for this Christmas. And I know you don’t find me attractive, but it will grow, believe me. It is going to take a while for you to get used to this. It’s going to be boring. It’s going to be lonely. You will be missing people, and you are going have to accept that there are things that you maybe thought you wanted to do, or maybe that other people told you that you should do, that you just will not be able to do. And yes, you will have to get used to my body.” He smiled at her. “Tell you what, I’m going to work harder at the gym and lose some weight. You are an excellent motivation, I need to keep up with you, you hot little thing.”
“If I stay here for six months, what then?” Dilan suddenly asked.
Pembroke thought about how to respond. He realised six months was an age for a thirteen year old. “Well, six months certainly. To be honest if all goes well, I think you will be staying a lot longer than that.”
“Please sir, you’re not cruel… I think you’re frightened I will tell people. It’s not fair. I don’t mind what you done to me, honest… I just … I don’t want to stay here, I want to get out!”
Pembroke sighed and thought hard about what to say next. He remembered his plan for her to be prevented from talking. The less she talked, the less he would have to listen to this.
“As I said, this will be hard for you to deal with, but deal with it you must. Let’s just take it six months at a time, eh?” He realised this could be ambiguous, did he want her to have a false belief in eventual salvation, or to have soul crushing confirmation that a life of imprisonment and sexual slavery was to be her lot?
Dilan looked lost and suddenly slapped her thighs, turned her back, tutted, and walked away.
Pembroke had been expecting either an attack, more pleading, cursing or meek acceptance. This petulant evasion of him was typical school girl behaviour and he should have seen it coming.
“DILAN!” she did not turn her back. He tensed up, he had to be prepared for physical violence now… he marched quickly towards her. She turned around, but did nothing more than put her hands up half-heartedly.
He slapped the top of her head, and grabbed her hair and pushed her down. “You will treat me with respect at ALL times you hear me! Never forget where you are, and what you are!” He shouted at her.
She screamed in fear, holding her hands to his trying to get his grip off her hair, but for Pembroke it was like fending off a cat’s paws. He dragged her over the fucking bench and pushed her over it at a side angle. “Stay bent over” After pushing her down so her stomach was lying over it, he yanked her trascksuit bottoms down so that he could see she had chosen a modest pair of grey boy shorts. He began to spank her hard. Her bottom was so narrow and his swings so vicious that he missed on a few occasions and hit the inside of her thighs, her hip bones and lower back and caught the side of the bench a few times. He winced at the pain but would not admit it.
He stopped, and let her get back up. She stood clasping her bottom. Tears streamed down her face. “I am sorry, but you forced my hand. I cannot and will not tolerate that kind of disobedience here under my roof.”
He walked back to the table. “Pull up your trousers.” She bent over and pulled them up, though kept one hand massaging her buttocks. “Tell me you are sorry, that you will respect me at all times, as your master.”
“Yes sir. I promise.”
“Good, now… take a seat.”
She sat down, and he opposite.
“Now. We have some things to talk about. Last night you told me some interesting tales about your sex life here. I want to hear more. I want you to tell the truth as well. We need to understand who you are, for the purposes of moulding you into the kind of girl who will be living down here. I also need to handle your life outside of here and want to be aware of any surprises. Now, tell me more about these men you have been sleeping with.”
Dilan had been reinvigorated by the beating. She had woken up in a pit of despair and had thought that there was nothing worse than her situation. The application of violence and anger from Pembroke had convinced her momentarily, that there was.
“Abdul started letting his friends have sex with me.” She continued, “he didn’t care that he was supposed to be my boyfriend..”
“Go, pray tell… imagine you are giving a presentation in school…”
Dilan continued and revealed the stories about sexual harassment from his friends whenever he was not around. Once, he had ploughed her with vodka, and let his friends in to have sex with her after he had finished. Rumours spread further.
Dilan had decided to avoid the hotel and go straight ‘home’ from school to Fiona’s foster house. Fiona herself, she revealed to Pembroke, had a drinking problem and was using the fostering money to pay off debts. She had no interest in the fact that Dilan had hardly been there. She only wanted a quiet house.
One night, Dilan was awoken by stones at her window, for the second time. It was Ibrahim. She had refused to speak with him when he came on to her. This time Ibrahim was more insistent. Eventually, Dilan opened her window.
“Fuck off, leave me alone. You’ll wake everyone up” She hissed down at him.
A minute later, there were more noises at the window. She went to it to close the curtains, but was shocked to see Ibrahim had climbed the drainpipe. He was right outside the window. Afraid he might fall off, she opened the window. “Help, this is gonna break, let me in.”
She let him climb in, thinking how he should get him out.
As soon as he was in, he sat on the bed. “Thanks for nothing….” He had alcohol on his breath.
“Be quiet… look, you need to leave…”
“I can’t go back out there, the drainpipe will break”
“You can’t go down the stairs everyone will see you…” she whispered, she was frantic, and a little scared.
“Ill sleep here and leave in the morning with you, nobody will see… honest”
You cant sleep here… I… I’m not some sort of slut… “
Pembroke interrupted her story. “What an outrageous young man, even I wouldn’t have tried that! I am so sorry those boys treated you like that. When I saw you at school I never thought of you as a slut, I would never have imagined you had to deal with this…”
Dilan had to double take to take in the absurdity of his consolations. She continued.
Ibrahim had got into the covers and started to take his clothes off. Dilan was in vest and knickers already. She tried to stop him undress and was grabbing his hands as he was about to take his boxers off, when the door swung open and Fiona marched in, turning the light on.
“What the hell is this!” she cried, looking at the half naked couple in the bed. “Fuck me, you’re twelve and this is the shit you’re pulling. You (pointing at Ibrahim) she’s twelve; get out of here now before I call the police!”
“Fuck you” shouted Ibrahim, and suddenly, a large black man appeared in the room, whom Dilan recognised as Fiona’s live in boyfriend. Fists flew, and Ibrahim was soon on the floor, dazed. The man stood over him. Fiona gasped “Fuck, you’ve killed him!” “Nah, he’ll be all right… needs to get the fuck out though,”
“OK well I’m calling the police…” Fiona turned around, but the man stopped her “we don’t need the police, I’m still on probation, they find out about this and I could go back inside….”
“But this is breaking and entering..”
“Trust me, the police just looking for an excuse to lock me back up, I think I busted this guy up pretty bad…” The man leaned over Ibrahim, he picked him up and lifted him. “Take his clothes” he said to Fiona. Fiona and her boyfriend took him outside, and threw his clothes on the ground. Ibrahim was coming around, blood was oozing from his nose. “You stay away, you hear? Any more of this, it will be the police or I’ll fucking kill you!”
They slammed the door, Dilan looked out her window and saw Ibrahim limping while pulling his clothes on and making his way back to the main road. She heard footsteps coming up to her room. It was Fiona.
“Listen love, I don’t need that kind of thing here. I was told I would be looking after kids. I don’t know how old you are really, but I didn’t sign up for hosting a brothel. You can stay here tonight, but after tomorrow you can only stay here if I give express permission ok? Where’s your key….” Fiona stood while Dilan handed her the front door key. “OK from now on, I decide when you can stay. Which frankly, is not gonna be that often. Maybe you should just find yourself a stead boyfriend among that lot and try and settle down.”
Pembroke interrupted again, intrigued. “I am so sorry, I have to say I think Fiona is a disgrace. She was supposed to look after you and look at all what has happened to you. Frankly, even though I should be thanking her for the fact that she is the reason I have you, I am sorely tempted to make a anonymous complaint about her. It is outrageous; it really isn’t your fault Dilan.”
Dilan almost thanked him. She actually was angry. If she had been left completely to her own devices it would have been better but having he useless Fiona has her fosterer stopped her from approaching anyone else who could have looked after her. It struck Pembroke that just one social worker would have been able to look after her, and possibly put her on the straight and narrow and certainly out of his clutches. Dilan had not even behaved like a typical delinquent, she had gone to school, engaged with her work, been respectful, not over abused alcohol or drugs despite her horrendous crowd. She came across as a girl who should be in a middle class home learning the piano and wanting to be a doctor.
Pembroke again considered his luck. He had known his only possible type of victim, was a girl no one would care enough to protect or look for, and would have to be a drug addled chav. Yet he had a pleasant well behaved girl who would be much easier and bearable.
“Perhaps you would like some coffee” enquired Pembroke.
Dilan nodded. She asked to be allowed to put on a jumper and he acquiesced. He came back down with two plastic cups of coffee. She was now wrapped in a large jumper. Sleeves went over her hands and she hugged herself as if to stay warm, although it was obviously a self defensive position. After the previous sexual sessions, wearing such layered clothing made her feel normal again.
“So tell me about the others” he prodded.
Dilan continued her stories. Abdul had been very excited about persuading her to have sex with various older men. One such man was a doctor by the name of Ronald Kelper. She knew this because Abdul had, when chatting with him, somehow managed to trace his profile photo on telegram with reverse image search, to a LinkedIn profile with his name.
“I’ve given this guy a good deal for you… we gotta rope him in…” he said to her, high as a kite, talking in bed.”
“Why?” asked Dilan? What’s a good deal anyway, thought they were paying a hundred quid?”
“Never mind, I handle finance remember,” he added, quickly changing the subject. “This guys a fucking surgeon, he’s got a wife and kids. He is one sick fuck though, the stuff he was on about online…”
“And you want me to…”
“Just this one more time…” he added “I almost got this other thing setup, we just need a bit more cash. But I’m thinking this could be something more…. Listen I’m thinking, he comes here, you fuck him…. And I film him….”
“What!!” she laughed, “where you gonna hide?”
“I’m not gonna be here you stupid bitch” he snarled.. “I got these cameras, I’m gonna set them up, like we discussed, he comes in, he fucks you, naked everything, and then we blackmail him…. He’s got money… if he can pay to fuck you he can pay for me to stay quiet…”
“I don’t wanna be a porn star..”
“You already are love…” he laughed and kissed her playfully…
“Abs that’s not funny, what you mean! Have you showed those pictures to anyone?”
“No, I swear, only the clients! And they self delete and they’re all illegal cos you’re so young, so don’t worry they’ll be off the internet..”
“They fucking better be…. If I find out you’ve been sharing em Ill fucking kill you.. fuck if they get around the school Ill die…” she shuddered…. “Honest, they self delete? They can’t screen shot?”
“Nope its all hush hush, has to be, these guys, they don’t want your photos around for their wife and kids to see…”
Needles to say, naked photos and videos of Dilan had already made the rounds of all of Abdul’s friends, and were already being passed around her school. They were also all around the internet Abdul had published them in as many places as possible to drum up interest in her as a whore.
A few days later, Dilan got a text to come to the hotel room. Abdul asked her to try and find the hidden cameras. She couldn’t find them, and he revealed their hiding places, They were three of them.
“What you gonna do with this…?
“First, Im gonna send it to him, and if he doesn’t pay, Ill send it to his wife, and if he still doesn’t pay, I’ll send it to the police. His wife and the police, they aint gonna be interested in sharing it around the internet don’t worry, his wife will delete it and the police will keep it.”
“Isn’t this illegal…”
“Well yeah… hopefully he pays up though… anyway I’m not in the video haha, and you can say you didn’t know there were cameras….””
“I’d feel guilty, what if he is really nice.”
“He is a fucking pervert, look he wants to fuck babies and shit, he deserves all this….”
“Fuck off I’, not gonna meet him then”
“He’ll be normal with you… Ill tell him any funny business with you I’ll kill him… I’ll be downstairs. Listen, after this, this could be me being free of all that shit… I could get my own proper flat and a car…”
Dilan agreed, and Abdul talked her through what to do, including trying to get the victim to say his name.
Pembroke interjected.
“Cheeky little minx…. I’m starting to feel less sorry for you…”
“Sorry sir, it wasn’t my idea…”
Pembroke chuckled, “well I hope it was worth it for you and him, go on…”
Dilan had come directly from school. She showered but went back to her school uniform, which appeared to be a major turn for every client.
The man entered, and handed Abdul the cash. Abdul counted, winked at Dilan, and told him : “OK, enjoy man, I will be downstairs…”
The room had been tidied to avoid tell tale signs of whose room it was. Ronald Kelper was as nervous as the rest of them. He was in his forties, very tall, and spoke with a Dutch accent. “How old are you and what is your name?” he asked. “I’m Dilan, and I’m thirteen.” He pressed her on her date of birth, what she was studying in school. He seemed suspicious she might be faking her age and actually be older.
Eventually, he sat down “I’m not sure we should do this. I am attracted to you… but… this is wrong. This is going to fuck you up for the rest of your life…” He stared into her eyes but did not touch her.
Dilan reassured him, his standoffishness made her automatically want to make him feel at ease. She was also conscious about the instructions from Abdul. He had hit her a few days earlier. If the video showed her failing to entrap him, she feared he would get angry at her.
“Why don’t I massage you… you can take your clothes off.”
“OK, you can keep your uniform on…”
He stripped to his underwear, which was a jock strap and lay on his stomach. Dilan stroked him, unclear of what a massage was. He began talking about his daughters and how he found himself attracted to them. And how he thought if he visited girls like Dilan, it would save his daughters for his attentions. Dilan asked him to turn over.
He did so, and began asking her about her experience. She admitted she was not a virgin. He asked her about her experience with this line of work and then about her life as a refugee. He had a huge erection which went right up her skirt and touched her crotch through the fabric of both their underwear.
“You seem like you want to get naked,” asked Dilan helpfully. She had never been this forward with anyone. Dr Kelper’s openness and kindness to her helped, along with the fact that she was still fully clothed.
She took his erect penis out of his jockstrap, and began to stroke it. He moaned… She began to take her top off…
“Stop! Listen, I’m really sorry… but I cannot do this.” He gently put his hand on her shoulder, and she got off him. He got up, put his clothes back on, and turned to her.
“You need to get out of this. You need to get away from that man you are with who is making you do this. Im sorry I cannot help you, but look…” He pulled some money from his wallet. It was a thousand pounds. “Take this, don’t tell your pimp. Go see a social worker or tell anyone in your school, they will help you. They protect you. I will pretend we had sex and you were great… but tomorrow morning… swear to me you will tell someone. Get away from this guy and this life, you are not cut out for this…”
Dilan accepted the money in shock… he had suddenly become the kindest person, and by far the kindest man, she had dealt with in months.
Abdul came up shortly afterwards, bouncing with excitement… he quickly checked all the cameras, and got them together. “Great work babe… he said you were great!” he grabbed her cheek and kissed her forehead. “
“What we doing tonight then?” She asked “We celebrating?”
“Nah sorry, I got places to be…” he responded… “but you did well, listen you cant stay here tonight, you all right to get to Fionas? Just in case she turns you away, text Walid, he fancies you”
“Fucks sake” responded Dilan. She gathered her things, and stormed out.
Pembroke interrupted her story. “Sounds like a nice man. I have to be honest, if I were a surgeon and not a teacher I would be handing over thousand pounds to a gorgeous young lady like you, except Id make sure I’d fuck you to high heaven for it!”
Dilan went quiet, waiting for him to permit her to continue.
“OK, what happened next, things aren’t looking good for this surgeon…”
A few days later, Abdul called Dilan up. He was furious. “I’ve just poke to Jacko. I sent him the cameras to splice up a video. He sent me some clips and says you never fucked him, said you weren’t even naked!”
Dilan was surprised, she expected Abdul to be a miffed that it hadn’t gone to plan. “Who the fuck is Jacko? Why does he have the videos??”
“He knows video editing… I told him whats what, I gave him a bit of money for it… promised him a bit of a cut if we make it big with the blackmail too. I now nothing about video editing. There’s three cameras and we need a good porn style video we can send to his wife or put online.”
“How do you know he’s not put it online already? You say you’re not sharing my photos and stuff, and every time we talk you let out that another random bastard has seen me naked.”
“It was necessary, look he knows to keep quiet. But anyway, that’s not the point. Why did he not fuck you? Oh, and he gave you a thousand quid you never mentioned that! You owe me and Jacko. Especially as you did fuck all work for it. He just felt sorry for you. You owe me six hundred, four for me, two for Jacko, don’t even tell me you’ve spent it.”
“No I haven’t…sorry honest I was going to tell you but you kicked me out…”
“Yeah well…. Fuck maybe we can tempt him back… anyway we’ll wait to see the video. Why don’t you come around tomorrow we’ll watch it together.”
The following day, Dilan arrived at Abdul’s hotel room. She was surprised to see a muscled asian man wearing a baseball cap and tight t shirt with combat pants sat in the corner.
“This is Jacko” explained Abdul.
“What’s up” asked Dilan meekly.
“We’re gonna watch the video again…” he said, “me and Jacko have already gone over it and made a few edits, just want your opinion too.”
“Why do you even need me then?” she asked incredulously. Jacko looked like a complete thug and ogled her like a piece of meat.
“Just sit down her on the floor in front of me” smiled Abdul.
Abdul and Jacko were both chugging beers as they began watching the video. Dilan cringed as she watched her performance. She noticed how much she waved her head around nervously when talking, she hated that she did this. She blanched at a close up of her skirt riding up her backside and exposing her knickers, as well as a close up of her face licking her lips. She held her hand over her eyes. “Keep watching” said Abdul.
The video continued, the audio clearly picking up Kelper’s pathetic protestations and regrets. Jacko had added subtitles even though one could clearly hear the incriminating words about her age and his own inclinations towards his daughters.
Periodically, during the video, there appeared further subtitles detailing Ronald Kelper’s name, his workplace, and screenshots of his LinkedIn profile and pictures of his family. A LinkedIn profile picture of his wife, Dr Sarah Kelper, also appeared. There were also screenshots of text conversations, in which there conversations about child sacrifice and sex with infants. There was one incriminating conversation regarding “little girls” with his telegram profile photo visible, with the camera zooming in on it. There was also a hidden camera recoding his conversation with Abdul following his meeting with Dilan. “Thanks mate, she was a great fuck, really enjoyed her” a smiling Kelper said, the camera showing him from below.
Dilan felt awful. She was embarrassed by the video and by Jacko seeing it, by the horrible intent towards Mr Kelper and his family, and by the knowledge that he had left her alone and tried to help her. Most of that had been cut from the video. A close up of Dilan playing with his erect penis was there however, showing his face in ecstasy. He seemed a complete predator in the video.
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
“I’ve recruited Jacko here for this” said Abdul. “We’re gonna go round his workplace with this, and let him know we have it. Let him stew a bit.
“How much will you ask for?”
Abdul and Jacko exchanged glances. “We’ll let him make the first offer. We won’t let him off cheap. This could be a steady earner. You did well babe… even if you didn’t fuck him. Next time though, you won’t be so lucky, you gotta get them to fuck you…”
“There won’t be a next time” said Dilan quietly.
“We’ll see about that” sighed Abdul and came over and hugged her. “Sorry babe, you’re too good at this, you got to fuck this guy up without taking anything off. We have to do the dirty work now. And you know there is a lot of work up front with this. Not easy…”
Dilan felt sick. This man’s life was ruined. She felt awful for his family. “Promise me you’ll leave him alone after one payment.” “We’ll decide that” said Jacko, getting annoyed for some reason.
“Yeah babe, we gotta treat this like business… but yeah we won’t fuck him over if he holds up his end. Tell you what, you fuck more guys like this, we can stop going after this guy”
Dilan hung her head. She just couldn’t get away from this.
“So babe,” Abdul clapped his hands together… “I’m gonna head over to Walid’s… and Jacko you’re gonna be there later yeah?” he nodded to Jacko… then looked at Dilan. “Thought you and Jacko should get to know each other, what with all three of us working on this together.”
“What do you mean” asked Dilan in a panic, looking at Jacko who resembled a hungry wolf.
“Look, Dilan, you were told to get naked and have sex in the video. I told Jacko he would see you naked and having sex. That was kinda priced into getting him to do the video. It’s not cheap that kind of thing, Jacko did us both a favour, I mean it’s a great video, cheers man!” He paused to send a thumbs up to Jacko.
He turned to Dilan. “So, as I say, he was promised that he would see you naked and… well… he hasn’t seen you naked yet,… so… “ he breathed in… “why don’t you get naked now while I’m here. Make it less awkward, then you can hang out here with him when I’m gone.”
“Sounds like a plan” growled Jacko, coming to the bed in front of her.
Dilan felt sick, Jacko terrified her. “Come on babe, you had it easy, there’s no short cuts, I could have done what you did in that video, now get your kit off now!” barked Abdul. Dilan started to cry. “Sorry mate” he said to Jacko, then dragged her into the bathroom.
“If you think you are gonna humiliate me in front of my friend, and ruin this project, and make me look like I’m screwing him over.’. you’ve got another thing coming. Dilan, get them clothes off now!” He started pulling at her shirt. “All right all right”… she sobbed.. “let me do it…” Abdul watched as she took off her clothes while sobbing. He led her out.
“Cor, mate” said Jacko. You are one lucky fella. That Kelper dude is gonna kick himself he is paying all this money and never even gotta see what I’m seeing now…”
“OK, Dilan, why don’t you play around with Jacko… sorry about the crying mate…”
“It’s all right, I don’t’ mind” laughed Jacko.
Abdul signed at her “If you’re gonna see more of these clients, you’re gonna have to smile. Treat Jacko here like a test drive… “ he suddenly laughed “see if you can get him to give you a thousand pounds” Jacko laughed. Dilan sat down, rigid. She waited for Abdul to leave, then remained motionless as Jacko began undressing in front of her. “That stupid fucking surgeon” he laughed… you won’t catch me paying for pussy, and you won’t catch me turning it down neither… all right you little bitch, get on that bed…”
Dilan recounted the story to Pembroke. He was enthralled as if he were hearing a thriller audiobook. “Interesting..I must google this guy upstairs! What happened?”
“I don’t know …” said Dilan… “Abdul got a new car soon after though, and so did Jacko… so I think it worked well for them…”
“I must google this Ronald Kelper ..” repeated Pembroke. “Ingenious way to make money. So sorry for you my dear… though I have to admit I am only hearing your side of the story! Perhaps you were not quite the innocent kind hearted temptress you said you were eh?” he chuckled.
“And that was a few weeks ago… well I suppose you’ve only been in this country, what, five months?” He whistled “You’ve racked up a pretty big body count for such a young girl. You weren’t interested in the boys at school?”
“They seemed too immature” laughed Dilan, recognising her own regret. I couldn’t hang out with them. And the girls were horrible to me.
“They bullied you” said Pembroke.
“They are racist” sneered Dilan. “Every time I made friends, someone would spark a rumour about me or attack the person I was making friends with.”
“Who were the worst?”
“Lucy Gibbons was the ringleader. One time, they attacked me at lunchtime for no reason, they punched and kicked me, and took my skirt off me.”
“What?” said Pembroke…”they ripped your skirt off?”
“Yeah, I had to run through school in my knickers, to the toilets. Then they followed me in and held me down and…” she started to sob, then cry harder.
“I’m sorry…” said Pembroke. “I know this may not mean much now… but you should have told someone about this, the bullying, the pimping, the abuse…”
Dilan retorted in disgust “Who? You? Or that teacher Mr Gallagher, he told me I shouldn’t even be in this country.”
“Now, now, be careful…” said Mr Pembroke. He did not want to have to discipline her again. However, he did not mind her openly bewailing that her position had been hopeless from the start.
“They took videos and photos of me and shared around the school…” she said continuing to sob. I was in my underwear. They were in the video, laughing at me and holding me down and they still shared it. Everyone saw the videos. They would play it at top volume in class or behind me in the corridors. They printed them out and put them on my locker.” She sniffed. “Bastards. I did nothing to them. I did nothing to anyone. They just picked on me. I don’t get left alone. Why does everyone hate me…” She turned to the side, and cupped her head in her hands and started to cry violently. It struck Pembroke that it was possibly the best form of therapy she could have.
It also meant he had found the perfect victim. Friendless, familyless, she carried an aura of victimhood around with her. It was as if she was like honey for predators. Normal decent people, saw her as invisible. She was pretty enough to be desired and meek enough for predators to feel comfortable abusing. In her short life, it was possible that she had suffered so much, that life as a sex slave prisoner with no contact with the outside world save for Pembroke, might actually prove to be feel like a blessing.
Even though moved by her tears, Pembroke had to resist the compulsion to ask her where he could find this video of her being molested stripped and humiliated. He also wanted to find the videos and pictures of her that had been shared by Abdul. For now, he thought he had better leave her be, and to deal with her grief alone.
“I’m sorry. It’s been a tough life for you Dilan. Maybe this change of pace might suit you” he soothed gently. She didn’t respond or acknowledge him. “I’m going to go upstairs for a few hours. I think you are owed some alone time. I am going to get you more books they will help you make sense of the world, and perhaps of your place in it.”
He got up, and took the food and empty cups away. He had intended to have restrained and tied up all the time, but was now letting her have free reign of the basement. He hoped he would not regret it. At present, his main fear was that she might do herself a mischief.
“I will see you later. Don’t worry, tomorrow is another day” he smiled, despite thinking as he say it would in no way cheer up anyone locked up in a sex dungeon. He made his way out and upstairs, locking up as he went.
Chapter 35
That morning, nearly a hundred miles away, there was another interaction between a middle aged man and young girl, tinged with sexual tension.
Ronald Kelper’s eyes lingered dangerously long on his fourteen year old daughter, Elisa. Elisa was in her red Christmas jumper, Christmas reindeer hat, and green short shorts. The latter was technically underwear though she wore it around the house in view of its relative modesty. It covered the seat of her bottom but merely accentuated its growing curves. Kelper drank in the view, the thigh gap, the widening hips, the plump buttocks, as she was washing the dishes.
He was suddenly disturbed by the door opening. “Elisa, put some clothes on, what you doing walking around the house in your knickers!” Her mother, Annelise had walked in. Dutch, like her husband, she was a fitfty something mother of two teenage girls with Ronald. An affluent household, she still kept her svelte figure and was still an attractive woman. However, her sex life with Ronald had largely collapsed in the last few years despite a few blips of sudden interest from her husband. She had suspected he was having an affair, and once hired a private detective to follow him around, but had found nothing.
The truth was, the two females Ronald was most interested in were right in his own household and did not include his middle aged wife. Elisa and her twelve year old sister, Anna, were growing into beautiful tall slim blondes like their mother. Ronald’s feelings had changed eighteen months earlier on a beach holiday. For a week in the south of France, the skimpy outfits of his daughters had blown his mind. His two little children had suddenly blossomed into beautiful young girls. Their tanned legs arms and smooth torsos proved irresistible to him. Their insistence on wearing nothing but bikini tops, and denim shorts at most and bikini pants a lot of the time, had awoken in him something he had never realised before.
Since then, he tried to hide it, but he could not stop lusting over his daughters. He began to sniff their panties after use, steal more glances than usual. Once, when Elisa fell asleep on the sofa wearing her school uniform, her skirt hitched right up and her knickers visible, he had began massaging himself and thought he would make himself cum, sitting right across from her in the living room. He got up and finished himself off in the bathroom, and on climax immediately felt a wave of revulsion at himself.
He began surfing the internet for content similar to his daughters. The surreptitious nature of it all fed his fantasies which became darker and darker.
“It’s so warm, mum, the heating is too high!”
“Just put on some pyjama bottoms, your arse is hanging out of those knickers”
“They’re shorts, mum”
“They’re knickers, young madam, come on you’re embarrassing your dad.”
Kelper felt like saying “Actually I’m quite enjoying the view!” But instead he pretended not to be listening. He prayed that his wife did not suspect anything. He could not see how he could control his attraction, surely he had given something away. Too many glances, him looking while she was watching, her finding his porn cache and not saying anything?
Elise walked out, and soon after was replaced by Anna, wearing slightly more modest shorts which resembled men’ boxers, and a thin vest top, showing off her growing cleavage. Ronald Kelper’s blood rate shot up. He felt like his smart watch readings would easily betray him if he was ever questioned.
The truth was that up until a month ago, he had felt horny and guilty, but now his stress levels had gone through the roof. His escapades into the dark web and chat rooms had resulted in a stash of illegal content which he jacked off to whenever he could. But this merely fed the beast.
He had fitted hidden cameras into his daughters bedrooms, and the shower room. He had masturbated furiously to the first proper video of his daughter Elisa, naked. Her impossibly smooth toned stomach, her honey gold tan save for her snow white perky breasts and crotch. She made it impossible for him to find his much fuller wife attractive. He thought of Elisa or Anna when trying to make love to his wife.
He had removed the cameras and deleted the videos in a fit of self disgust and panic. Within days, he bitterly regretted it and next time pledged to upload them next time if only to have them saved somewhere he could not delete them. Wisely, he never followed through on the latter fantasy.
He never touched his daughter, of which he was proud but also aware it was a sign of his weakness. He wondered if he would ever grow out of it. His porn addiction was not helping and was growing out of control.
Six weeks ago, he had begun messaging ‘trusted contacts’ on the dark web for meeting young girls. He was very weary of chat rooms with paedophile hunters impersonating 13 years old girls and the stories of 60 year old cab drivers from Glasgow driving to Bristol to meet them, and being caught on horrifying videos of being ensnared.
He had read and spoken online with men who had told him of apparently genuine experiences with prostitutes who were under age. One man told him about a well known prostitute who had let him abuse her fifteen year old daughter for a generous price. He boasted about how he was able to do “everything” to her including piss on her.
He had eventually began speaking with man named “Bilal” who was actually Abdul Hassani – Dilan’s boyfriend. He was touting for business and wasted no time in sending him pictures of Dilan.
He almost came in his pants looking at her. She was exactly his type. Pubescent, innocent, fresh, slim, with budding sexuality yet not fully grown. She reminded him of Elisa in her bikini in the south of France, just the dark hair and eyes in place of the straw coloured hair and blue eyes of his daughter, and the darker patch between her legs, that like Elisa looked so thin and threadbare as to resemble a bikini wax yet was still natural.
The money sounded steep. One thousand pounds for “girl friend experience”. At least it sounded like a prostitute ad, first and foremost. He had used a few and he had not been scammed yet. He had decided he would meet this girl, and planned a “late work shift” to cover for himself and planned on hitting the late night gym afterwards to cover up any signs of sex from his wife. He told himself that this might “cure” him. In truth he was in the throes of an addiction spiralling out of control.
He had a few drinks at lunch time. He had no surgeries that day, but did have a seminar and a write up of procedures which he managed while half drunk as was becoming increasingly common. That evening, we went to the described hotel, in hat, and coat, praying that it was not a trap. His libido overrode the voices in his head saying this was a mad idea. Knocking on the door, seeing “Bilal” aka Abdul, he fully expected to be robbed of his money though was far less of a nightmare than being greeted by a camera wielding group of thugs, or the police.
The sight of Dilan made his heart leap. The school uniform, the look of a type of girl he had seen countless times along the streets and shopping centres, so tantalising and yet out of reach. She sat cross legged demurely on the bed, her innocent look betraying her youth. After the departure of “Bilal” he had quizzed her and been assured she was genuine. The thrill of playing with the school uniform and his hands on her, was intoxicating.
Yet his nerves did not settle. Dilan’s face grew younger and younger, she had no makeup as requested, and her awkward moves to get on top of his far larger body belied her physical immaturity. Her hands gripping his manhood felt like that of a baby gripping his finger after birth. She tucked her hair behind her ear, exactly as his two daughters often did during mealtimes. Yet instead of turning him on, this shocked him.
He immediately lost all appetite for the encounter. He got up, apologised profusely and in a fit of righteous piety gave her all the cash he had left on him. He felt so disgusted with himself. He gave a glowing tribute to her pimp in the lobby, and left. He prayed she would find a path out of that life.
For the next few weeks, he had felt better than he had for years. He stopped drinking, and saw his daughters in a new light. Gone were the seedy thoughts invading his brain. He disposed of his porn collection, and discreetly disposed of his hard drive and laptops. At dinner, he began to engage with his daughters and finally felt able to look them in the eye freely again. He had even managed to have sex with his wife a few times.
Then, he got the envelope at work.
Chapter 36
December 5th. Ronald Kelper was working at his hospital and having a consultation with a patient. He received word that a courier had come to deliver a package for him. He insisted he did not want to see the courier, and instead received the enveloper in his room. He had thought it might be a present from his wife, in view of the recent upturn in their relationship.
He took out the contents of the envelope. In it where a USB, a CD, a letter, and some printed out A4 pictures.
His heart sank to the bottom of his stomach as he looked at the photographs. They appeared to be stills from a video. It was of him and Dilan. There was a full frontal picture of him in a jock strap beside her in a school uniform, another of him lying down and she on top of him. Another with his penis out, from a different angle, showing his penis and his face, scrunched in pleasure. Another showed him pawing at her in her school uniform while wearing nothing but the jockstrap. More photos with Dilan touching him. Another of him taken from what must have been a camera hidden on the lower upper body of “Bilal” recording his conversation with him. The letter stated:
“Dear Dr Ronald Kelper
The video of your meeting with an underage thirteen year old girl was recorded. Copies can be seen in the USB and CD.
As you can see, we have added your contact details to the video footage and will add it to the description if we decide to leak it online.
We could send this video to your wife, Annelise, or your employers at Ipswich General hospital, or we could just forward it to the police.
We would prefer to come to a financial arrangement for our mutual benefit. Below is a phone number. Please text “negotiate” to this number so that we can start a conversation.
Yours faithfully
Dilan.”
Kelper flew into a rage, he punched the wall and knocked over a monitor in frustration. He howled in anger and then despair. Then he began to cry. A nearby nurse heard the same through the wall. She wondered whether she should intervene. It was common for staff to get emotional in such a high pressure job. She hoped he had not heard terrible news about a surgery or something like that.
He began the communication. Abdul and Jacko spoke on speakerphone. They knew he could not go to the police. They asked for ten thousand pounds. Kelper agreed but pointed out that he had no way of knowing they would not come back for more. They told him that if he wanted to guarantee it he should come up with a better number “they couldn’t refuse.” Deep down, Kelper knew at that moment, his life was finished.
The ten thousand pounds was transferred via a cryptocurrency exchange. Abdul and Jacko split the money, and gave Dilan four hundred pounds. Abdul managed to buy a new car with the money, and was soon driving around town impressing his friends, spending it on drugs and giving parties.
Much of the money was spent on taking an older eighteen year old girl, Beverly, out on dates in expensive restaurants and nightclubs. After seeing them together in his new car, Dilan grew furious and jealous, yet still had nowhere else to live properly or have anything resembling a steady life.
Chapter 37
December 26th. Pembroke entered “Ronald Kelper” into google and it came up with numerous results about his work, though no social media. He did not currently have LinkedIn though he was widely covered in medical journals and newspaper articles. There was nothing untoward. He must have paid them off or otherwise got off so far. The poor bugger, he thought. He thought of his own dalliances with prostitutes including the child prostitute in Thailand. He had taken far more pleasure from it than he had with Dilan, it been immeasurably cheaper, and he had gotten off scot free with no consequences. This man’s life must be ruined, if he had really been blackmailed. Even if he thought he had paid them off, the sword of Damocles would hover over him for the rest of his life.
That same time in the Kelper household, Ronal Kelper glanced back at this youngest daughter Anna and her dreamy thighs criss crossed as she played on her phone. A layer of black fabric covered her modesty of her splayed legs, into which the sinews of her inner thighs disappeared.
He felt hungover and dead inside. He had paid ten thousand pounds several weeks ago. The confirmation text had been “cheers mate. Chat again soon.” The teasing premise of the message meant that he must resign himself to be on the hook for that one act of foolishness for the rest of his life.
He had lost weight and had a horrible Christmas. He had thrown up halfway through the dinner, he could not keep anything down for long. His wife was puzzled, he had swung from being loving again, to now detached, to seemingly wild depression. He was working a lot recently (though in reality had been spending a lot of time in his car, silently by himself, for hours, day after day) and she wondered whether this was the problem. She had suggested they go on a family skiing holiday in January, to which he had mumbled “sure” with no enthusiasm.
Kelper took a longer look at Anne. She seemed oblivious and engrossed in her phone . ‘I resisted my daughters’ he thought, ‘ I even resisted that girl in the hotel, I beat my demons, but I still get caught..’ he wondered how life could be so unfair. He would destroy his family eventually. He had thought of suicide but even then, the video might come out.
He grew frustrated at times and wished he had gone through with it. Looking at Anne, he also felt anger towards her as well. Both his daughters had tempted him, utterly aware of their own sexuality. How often they had come to ‘daddy’ asking for favours by hugging him, pouting and walking around in next to nothing. He now realised why there was so much incest. It was ironically much safer to keep it in the family than deal with strangers. At least with his daughters they would not blackmail him forever, and the damage to the family would already be done. Instead of this awful weight hanging over him.
At that point, Kelper was not the only one feeling despair and anger. Pembroke turned on his monitors to look at Dilan in the basement. He was shocked.
She was moving about the basement in a frenzy, a tempest of rage unleashed. Her actions were unrestrained, fists pounding the walls with unbridled fury. Dark tresses, wild and untamed, danced chaotically around her as if mirroring the tumult within. He could see her clawing at the walls with her nails while gnashing her teeth in one camera. Her voice, a piercing scream, reverberated through the space and into the microphone, a manifestation of the intense emotions consuming her. It was a scene of unleashed chaos, where the boundaries between the internal storm and the external reality blurred in a whirlwind of frenetic madness.
Pembroke had to quickly turn down the volume. He wondered how long she had been screaming. He made his way quickly downstairs, he stopped at the stairwell, opened the door and note he had not closed the floor of the stairwell at the top. He closed the stairwell door (the vertical one which visitors could see) and walked around the house, listening. He then went back upstairs.
The violent scenes continued, at the lowest volume he could hear the guttural shrieking of a girl in torment. He marvelled at the soundproofing of the basement.
Dilan was obviously now at last reacting to her predicament. She had opened up a lot this morning about her life before the kidnapping, the abuse, bullying, rape and that was only her six months in England! To think that she had fled as a refugee to this!
He wondered how long she would act like this. He wondered whether he should intervene. Her clothes were scatted everywhere, the shower rail was torn down, the fucking bench and gyna table were both overturned. The bedside lamp in the bedroom had been flung across the room. He checked through the cameras for damage.
He feared she would hurt herself. In the erotic fantasies he had read, the captives spend most of their time tied up in bondage of various kinds, or else become willing sex slaves. This was implausible he realised. He knew he had to take into account the risk that she would harm herself, probably a more likely scenario than her harming him.
He had considered what would happen if she killed herself. Disposing of the body would not be too onerous, just laborious and gruesome. Most bodies are found because killers do not have a place to hide the body, whereas he had the basement. He was also not pushed for time, at least not yet. He could take his time to chop her into manageable pieces. Each piece could be disposed of a day or so at a time. He intended to try the fireplace. Even if not burned to a crisp, the most identifiable parts of her, such as her burned skull, would be too far gone and easy to break up and put into a public bin along with some food to cover it up. It would be a difficult task and might require some freezing of body parts, but if he took his time instead of hurrying to get rid of a whole body, he should make it so that her remains would be completely untraceable. He did not intend to buy a saw for this purpose until he actually needed it, the less evidence lying around for years on end to pique someone’s interest, the better.
He did worry, however about her inflicting a serious long term injury on herself. What if she scarred herself? Or broke a leg or arm, or just severe injuries that he could not treat with a youtube video? Brain damage was one thing, in fact it might even be the best option for a sex slave. But physical sickness, deformity, extended illness… this could be a nightmare. How to refuse to bring her to a doctor? Could he bring himself to “put her down”? He shuddered.
He watched again. Dilan was now weeping and on her honkers leaning against the wall. Her hair cascaded forwards obscuring her face. He turned the volume a little. “Mama, mama” he heard her wail.
Pembroke wished he had not heard this. Well, at least her mother was dead, he thought, so he could not be guilt tripped over that.
Chapter 38
Covid arrived in Antalya in 2020 and the tourist business collapsed. Along with, it any work, legal or otherwise for Yasmin Barzini. The routes to Europe were shut and they cursed themselves for not trying to get to Greece while they could. They stayed in a dormitory in one room along with many families from Syria. Her mother managed to eke out some visits to frustrated local husbands, to make some money for food. Things grew more and more desperate as lockdowns re-occurred in late 2020.
One evening, Dilan was alone in her dorm room, when covid masked police officers came in. They explained in Turkish that Yasmin had been arrested and brought them to the police station. Her mother looked dejected and humiliated. She had been caught breaking lockdown after soliciting an undercover police officer. She was being sentenced to two months in a woman’s prison, while Dilan would be sent to an orphanage for two months.
The orphanage was hell. They Arab Syrians called her a Kurdish bitch. The Kurds called her an Arab bitch. The Turks called her either Kurdish bitch or a Syrian bitch. After a beating from a group of Turkish sisters, daughters of a family of drug addicts she was received two black eyes. It was in this state that was released to her mother. They were driven to the Syrian border, and deported.
It was the first time back in Syria for years. They hitch-hiked their way to Kobani, and she arranged to meet with her in-laws in sheer desperation. Mohammed, the sleazy brother was in England. The rest of the Barzini family were at first hospitable to her, and she was given a job in a local laundry run by the extended family. Dilan was introduced to her cousins and initially things went well.
Her mother refused to entertain offers of marriage or of sex for money. She dressed modestly and did not want to humiliate her daughter in front of her family. Gradually, however, Dina’s aunts and great aunts began to question her as holes came out in her stories of living off menial jobs in Turkey. It became widely suspected, then accepted, that she had sold her body.
However Yasmin remained morally upright and focused on her food. But her beauty attracted more than a few suitors. One such man was the owner of a garage, who was in his sixties and wanted a new young second wife. He offered her a second job as a cleaner, and propositioned her. Yasmin angrily quit the job and argued furiously with him, after he put his hand up her long dress. She would not tolerate such behaviour in Kobani in Syria. She stormed off after shouting at him in the street.
The man forgave her, but his older wife did not. She was furious at the public humiliation and rather than blame her husband she sought revenge on Yasmin. She researched her, and like the women in Dilan’s family also suspected she had slept around for money. After being friendly with her aunts, she confirmed it.
After several more weeks, Dilan’s mother finally met a suitable suitor. A handsome cousin of Dilan’s father, whose wife had been killed in a bombing, wanted a new wife. There was talk of uniting Dilan with his two sons. By the summer of 2022, it seemed that Dilan and her mother might now have a semblance of a normal life in Syria, something they had never thought might happen.
The problem was that the dead wife was the niece of the wife of the old garage owner. She urged her sister, the grandmother of the suitor, to demand work references from the hotels in Antalya. Dilan’s mother provided these, and the hotel owner did nothing more than confirm her work dates. The old woman recruited her sons, who did some more digging, and they were eventually able to find a smoking gun. A small online local news article, with Yasmin’s mugshot for her arrest for prostitution and breaking lockdown in December 2020, was found.
Word, and the article, spread like wildfire. The marriage was swiftly cancelled. Her mother in law threw out of the house, which probably saved her life as within an hour, her brothers in law had come looking for her. The shame with which she had stained the family and memory of her husband could only be removed by killing her. Dilan and Yasmin were terrified, they went to the police to complain about the article, arguing it was false. The police sergeant, a young man who seemed sympathetic, held them for several hours. He then returned and told them that he had confirmed with Turkish police. It was true, she had a criminal record for prostitution in Turkey. There was no way to absolve her. He chillingly told her that she should never have come back to Kobani, and that he would understand if her family took matters into their own hands.
Dilan and Yasmin had no money and just the clothes on their backs. She was shocked at how quickly their fortunes had changed. They were reduced to standing by the highway, flagging down cars and hoping that word would not get around her they were.
Eventually, a car slowed. It was Yasmin’s cousin, Ahmed. Her side of the family had long forsaken her, but even now they had heard of her new shame. Ahmed had not seen her in years. He was now nineteen. He told her he had received a message that she and Dilan were seen on the highway. He promised he meant them no harm, but that if they stayed, they were as likely to be killed by her own Arab side of the family as her dead husband’s Kurdish side of the family.
They got in, they had no other choice. Ahmed told them he had a place in Raqqa, a much bigger place than Kobani. When they got there, all seemed well enough. It was a two bedroom apartment, Dilan’s mother did wonder how he could afford this in Raqqa.
Ahmed left to go for groceries. It was not proper here for a woman to go out alone. A few hours later, there was a knock at the door. Dilan and her mother were watching music videos on the TV.
As Yasmin got up, the door unlocked with a key on the outside and a group of men walked in, followed by an older woman dressed in an Abaya. “Who are you, this is Ahmed’s flat..” asked Yasmin.
The men laughed and circled her. Dilan stayed seated, terrified. These men looked like soldiers or policemen. No one said anything.
“Daughter…” called the woman in Arabic. “Come with me into the bedroom.” She went into the bedroom and gestured to the men to stay outside.
The woman took Yasmin by the hand and they went to the bedroom. Inside, the woman introduced herself as a business woman. She told her bluntly, she was sorry for her trouble and had rescued her, she had “paid” off her families and had given Ahmed money for her. In return she would have to work for her. She told Yasmin that her daughter would be spared work if her mother worked well and brought in money.
Yasmin had suspected the escape to Raqqaa was too good to be true. With the adrenaline pumping and time of the essence, there had been no better plan than to enter into what had been a trap, although she also knew she could just as easily be dead now.
Dilan and Yasmin covered themselves and left with the men. They never saw Ahmed again. They were driven to a tall building and walked to the very top. At the top, there was a metal cage door across a wide open space. It was unlocked to let them through. “This is your living quarters”, wheezed the woman, who hated the walking up and down. However, the top floor was the best place for a whorehouse and secure enough that she and her clan could fend off unwelcome guests and keep their girls locked in and available.
Dilan and her mother got a small mini apartment behind a locked door, locked from the outside. Inside there was a bedroom in which her mother was told she would perform business with clients. In the other, was a bathroom, living room and bedroom combined into one, in which Dilan would be expected to stay when her mother entertained clients. The whole area was only about fifteen square metres. The bedroom did not have a door just a curtain. Every so often, they were allowed out of their apartments. At first, they were given a few days to get used to it before Yasmin had to see anyone. They mingled with the other girls. Most were single girls and women but some had children with them. Dilan’s mother anxiously reached out to them, and they all reassured each other that their children were not being abused and no client was allowed to touch them.
Sounds of sex permeated the atmosphere from both walls during the day and night. They had a radio but no phones or TV. Dilan and her mother amused each other by telling each other stories. A few days later, the older woman came in to her apartment. She glared at Dilan, yet looked oddly lustful. She repeated to Yasmin the threat about her daughter. “Now come with me here, and show me how you wash yourself” she said to Dilan’s mother.
Dilan’s mother was indignant, “I have done this before I am a child, I know what to do, I am thirty one years old!” The older woman said back, menacingly “I know you are thirty one, that is what I am afraid of… if you don’t want your daughter to replace you, you need to look smart. I do not sell dirty girls. So show me, come on, I will watch, show me how you clean and shave yourself. Or are you a dirty Kurdish bitch after all” the venom shocked both Dilan and Yasmin. “Dilan… look away!” she said to her daughter, as she began to strip.
There was no proper shower, just a tap and a bucket and a hole in the ground for the toilet with flush. Dilan burned with sorrow for her mother as she heard her disrobe, and wash herself. The water was cool and she heard her mother wince as she got used to it. “Don’t splash me, bitch, do not soak this room!” the woman, still clothed in an abaya, told her. The woman was conservatively dressed but her heavy makeup and painted eyebrows hinted at the kind of woman she had always been.
Her mother eventually got used to it, and used the soap all over her body. Dilan looked over every now and then. She still admired he mother’s beauty and womanly curves. “Shave off every hair on that body, I don’t want to feel a thing when I check” said the woman. The notion of the woman inspecting her mother made her furious. “Leave my mother alone, she is clean.” Dilan shouted. “Dilan!” shouted Yasmin; she was scared what might happen to her.
“Young lady, let this be a lesson to you” said the woman grimly. “ You get into this business, this is where you end up. Nobody is going to be pay for a hairy dirty Kurdish bitch and if there is no pay there is no money for me and no food for you.”
Eventually her mother finished and turned off the tap. “Dry yourself,” said the woman, who remained where she was. “Now come here… “ Dilan’s mother walked into the centre of the room. Dilan stopped shielding her eyes and stared at her mother who was a foot away from her now. “Let’s have a look at you” smiled the woman appraisingly. She patted her thighs and buttocks as if inspecting an animal. “Spread your legs” and she looked into her from below. Dilan stopped looking and shut her eyes. Yasmin merely grunted. She had already lost herself and her dignity, all that remained was her daughter.
“You’ve shaved well… nice and tight, and your breasts are still so firm…” the woman played with her breasts a little too long for a mere appraisal. “Now open your mouth…” There was a pause, and the woman raised an eyebrow menacingly, before Yasmin opened wide. “Excellent. I don’t think we need make up for you yet… maybe for the better class of client I will have you painted… I have some girls here who are teenagers and they are more worn out than you. But you are lucky, just one child” she gestured at Dilan. “I have had eight.” She shrugged.
She brought a plastic packet with what looked like a pink nightie inside. “Put this on, you have a client coming in about fifteen minutes. He will leave in an hour or less. Then we will let you know when your next client is. You know what to do, I am sure I do not have to explain.” She turned to Dilan and winked “watch and learn.”
She left, and the two sat in silence on the tiny sofa-bed. “Dilan I am sorry I dragged you into this…. There is no way to protect you from this here…” “It’s ok mama, you are still protecting me. “ The two hugged and cried, and Yasmin slipped into the nightie, which was see through and barely even reached down to the tops of her thighs. It looked ridiculous she thought.
A few moments later, there was a key turning the door. A big, hairy looking man walked in. He took the key back out, it had a purple key ring which match the mark on the door. He muttered something, and Dilan’s mother wordlessly took him into the bedroom through the curtains.
The smell of the man wafted through the curtains. Dilan was strangely so proud of her mother for going through this for her. Dilan shut her ears, then opened them and listed to the grunting and thrusting which might as well have been in front of her, it was just one and a half metres away and through the curtains. She peeked around. She saw the huge hairy back of the man, his hairy buttocks and legs, thrusting down while her mother’s smooth legs shot up around him. She saw her face peer around the back of his head. They locked eyes with each other; there was a sadness in her mother’s eyes as if to say “I’m sorry.”
This went on for weeks, they had their belongings in one bag under the sofa, they had small meals of tea, noodles, rice and vegetables, and every so often the older woman, nicknamed “ Teta” or the grandmother, would come in and inspect Yasmin. “Your daughter is growing up before my eyes, my goodness she is like a sunflower” she exclaimed at Dilan. “My daughter is a child – remember” Yasmin exclaimed. Teta’s gaze remained on Dilan. Dilan and Yasmin were never apart other than when she went through the curtains with a man. She saw her mother naked more often than not, and vice versa, and soon she began to help wash her mother and she her. They hardly had any clothes other than the ones they fled Kobani in, and were supplied with nothing further other than old abayas which they did not wear inside anyway other than to sleep in. Underwear, much of it from a lingerie factory nearby, was readily supplied, and the two mostly sat around in their panties and vests, playing cards practising English, singing together, and waiting for Yasmin’s next client.
Yasmin made fun of her clients and sex in general. They could not hide their bodily functions or nakedness from each other and the saturation of sex into their lives in the tiny little bedsit made them both less weary of discussing sex.
Occasionally men would leer at Dilan and want to bring her into the bedroom with them. There was no way to hide her, and she would throw on the abaya when the men came in.
One day, Teta came in. Dilan and her mother were sitting playing cards in their panties and vests as always, as it was still October and warm. “I see you are not covered,“ Teta pointed to Dilan. “Why, does she need to be? “ Yasmin snapped back defensively. “No but why does she cover herself when the men come in? She is a pretty girl let’s show her off. You are making good money you know… it’s because word gets around you have a beautiful daughter, they want to see her too…”
“They are here to have sex with me not her!” intoned Yasmin.”I am making you the money. We agreed. I satisfy all the customers I get. I hear them complaining about the other girls but not me”
“You are right “Teta continued…“I won’t sell your daughter I promise but…” she started at Dilan… “I think she should get out more. It’s not good for a young girl to spend twenty three hours a day in here. It stinks.”
Yasmin was furious “You lock us up here, we make you money I do what you want, you leave my daughter alone!”
Teta calmed her “Do you not think it undignified for you to be fucking eight men a day in front of her? Dilan, don’t you want to give your mommy some privacy. You don’t want to spend all your time breathing in your mother’s pussy “
“Shut up and leave us alone. We are together” said Yasmin in humiliation. “I propose that Dilan be allowed out here is all” Teta gestured at the common area “and to serve our guests some tea and refreshments. She might learn something of the business. What do you think she is learning here with you? I understand you do not want her fucking all these men, but you must make something of it, let her learn some business, talk to people… have a bit of a life outside of you”
Yasmin refused, Teta left, and a few hours later, the door knocked. It was usually a sign that a client would be there in two minute to give her a few minutes to freshen up. This time the door opened immediately. Three of the guards came in. “Come on in here Yasmin, on the bed now, we have a special request.”
Yasmin grabbed and hauled into the bedroom and handcuffed to the bed and ordered to bend over and stick her backside up in the air. She was naked and prepared and the men left. Dilan went in and tried to take the cuffs off “Don’t worry darling it will be ok, just go back into the living room…”
Suddenly the key turned, Dilan came through the curtains in her tight yellow vest and panties at the same time as a large portly old man came through. He stared at her wide eyed. “I’m through here,” shouted Yasmin. “She is not for sale” The man walked to Dilan, and grabbed her, he ran his hands under her vests and dipped his hands into her panties.”Leave her alone! You are not allowed” cried Yasmin, rattling the cuffs in vain, though she could not move from the bed. Dilan froze, scarcely believing what was happening as his huge rough hands roamed all over her now naked body. The man stripped Dilan, and ran his hands all over her, he then took her by the hand and brought her through the curtain.
“I paid special price, now watch what I do to your mama” he told her, while he took his clothes off, his penis standing rigid and tall underneath his hairy belly. He took a thin cane and began whipping her with it. Her mother’s screams reverberated around the entire top floor. Every so often the other girls were beaten like this. Teta would loudly explain to the others at the next meeting that this person had been punished for not looking after their clients and that punishment was submitting to the “special price” that some customers wanted to pay to hurt the girls.
The man stopped, wiped his brow, and ordered Dilan to continue. “Hurt her with it, come on do it! If you don’t hurt her hard enough, I will take over and I can hit a lot hard than you…. come on!” he cried furiously, while masturbating with one hand, and running his hand over Dilan’s bare bottom while she swivelled and started to strike her mother. Yasmin’s cries were less violent this time, “HARDER! Or I will double the punishment!” the man continued to masturbate and then brought his phone out to film them both. “Harder” he kept shouting. Eventually, he came, and got dressed, and left.
Soon afterwards, Teta and the guards came in. Yasmin was released from her handcuffs.
“I hope you learnt a lesson” said Teta, if you want to try and do things your way, I will do it my way.”
“He touched my daughter” cried Yasmin. “Did he fuck you?” Teta asked of Dilan. She shook her head. “Then she is fine, put your clothes back on, both of you.” Yasmin’s backside was covered in welts. “You will need some treatment. That man paid quite a bit for that session but still it won’t make up for the lost time while you recover. No man wants to fuck that… “ Teta ran her hands over her bottom and wiped her hands of the blood that came off. “Well, some men, but it will affect your income.” She turned to Dilan. “Dilan, will you volunteer to help out as a waitress, no fucking, while your mommy recovers?” Dilan’s mother was silent this time. “Yes, Teta…” said Dilan.
That night Dilan and her mother hugged each other tight under the covers. They normally spooned or hugged each other, Dilan’s face meshed in her mother’s buxom chest. Tonight, owing to her mother’s badly injured bottom, she lay on her stomach on the bed while Dilan slept by herself on the sofa. Even though separated by just a mesh curtain, it was the longest they had been apart and not touching since fleeing Kobani. The sudden distance seemed to affect them and the next morning Dilan was wordlessly taken away.
She was made to wear a small tight red dress, and offered tea to all the men who came. She handed out keys with colours to match the doors. She knocked the doors to let the girls inside know they were about to see someone. Her first time with her mother’s door, she knocked and said softly “Soon, mommy” “Dilan, are you OK?” her mother responded through the door anxiously. “I’m ok, we will see each other this afternoon.”
That afternoon, Dilan in her red dress was able to talk with Yasmin, who was in a thong and t shirt, to let the air at her wounds. “Its OK mommy, they said I can still sleep with you…” she said.
After a few nights, Dilan was called downstairs for the first time in weeks. She had just spoken at the break with her mother. She was led by a guard to a room, and walked in. On the other side, she saw Teta, who was wearing a full body cardigan, to hide her fat frame.
“My little flower, how pretty you are…” said Teta. “Hello Teta” said Dilan brightly. “How do you like your new job?” queried Teta. “It’s ok, I do miss my mommy, maybe she could help me”
Teta laughed. “Your mommy is good at her job. I’m sorry we had to beat her but discipline is something all girls have to deal with. Anyway it was selfish of her to keep you to herself. Were you not bored just sitting in that cell watching your mommy get fucked by man after man?”
“I’m never bored with my mommy” said Dilan honestly. “Really?“ said Teta inquisitively. “Come sit by me,” she patted a spare seat on a bed. “You really are gorgeous. All the men ask for you but I am an honourable woman. Do you ever kiss with your mommy?”
Dilan innocently said yes. They were naked and together and slept together; they would sometimes play wrestle and kiss each other while cuddling. But it was never sexual; it was more just pure love. “But not in a naughty way”
“If I had a daughter that looked like you, and had to fuck dozens of ugly fat men every day, and had to sleep in the same bed with you, I don’t think I could keep my hands to myself..” replied Teta. Suddenly her hands were all over Dilan and she kissed her on the mouth.
Dilan was shocked and had not even thought the old woman could be interested in her. Teta held her face. “You will learn to keep quiet. You will not tell your mommy about this. You don’t want to worry her; this is just a bit of fun. It will only make her anxious, she won’t be able to stop it anyway. You think she tells you everything about how hurt she is about all the fuckings she gets?”
Dilan paused. The old woman made sense. Still, it felt weird kissing her. She started to disassociate again, closed her eyes and returned the kiss. They leant back and soon Teta was licking all over her, and dipped her head between her legs. “Maybe you can do this for your mommy later” she laughed and began giving Dilan oral sex after pulling her panties to one side. Dilan’s body shook with the sensations. She held on to the mattress, arching her back. Her mind exploded as Teta’s hot experienced tongue worked her genitalia. She came several times, and Teta swatted away her futile attempts to push her head away from between her legs.
“That felt beautiful” said Teta, sticking her tongue into Dilan’s mouth. “Taste yourself, my god you are wonderful.” After more writhing and fingering, Teta stopped. “Right, I have a whorehouse to run…. Dilan you can sleep with your mommy tonight but this is your little secret, remember? I will know if you tell your mommy, remember, and then you will both get into trouble.”
And so it continued, Dilan worked serving guests, avoiding the leers and advances of men, and playing around with Teta a few times a week. Her mother did not suspect anything, and was now overloaded with clients to make up for it. The two continued to sleep together.
One night, Dilan had her hand around her mother’s breast, and instead of running her hand over it she startled to play with her nipple. Yasmin stirred and began to move her hips back rhythmically. They were both pretending to be asleep to each other. Dilan kissed her mother’s neck. She noted her sighs, and saw her eyelids flutter. She kissed again, this time, bringing her tongue across her check towards her mouth.
Abruptly, Yasmin turned around in the bed. She stared into Dilan’s eyes and cupped her face. Dilan stared back. The two did not exchange any words. They both opened their mouths and breathed heavily into each other. Dilan felt her mother’s sweet breath blowing through her lips into the back of her throat. Suddenly, their lips touched. Their eyes were still locked together. Dilan’s bottom lip was lodged now between her mother’s lips. Suddenly her mother pressed down her mouth, and began a long and passionate French kiss.
Their chests heaved and her mother rubbed her breasts up and down. Their hard nipples rubbed against each other, like two steel points running into each other. Dilan remembered Teta’s method of pleasuring her with her hands, and how she would notice her mother pleasuring herself sometimes in her sleep or when she though Dilan was sleeping, or when she was with clients. She put her hand inside her mother and started to rub.
Yasmin broke off and her eyes widened, looking right into those of her daughter, while her mouth gaped open breathing hot air into Dilan’s face. “Who taught you to do that?” she whispered. “You did, mommy”, answered Dilan, and they both giggled. Her mother soon returned the favour, and they began kissing again as they worked each other to orgasm.
“Mommy, there is something else I can do…” said Dilan breathlessly. “What is that darling?” asked her mother. Dilan slipped down, and went between her mother’s legs. “The men never do this to you” she said, and lowered her head. She had seen her mother naked so many times, seen her shave her vagina, wash it, seen her be penetrated by dozens of men, but never before had she seen men touched her mother like this with their mouths. She munched down and copied Teta’s technique. Teta had not forced her to perform on herself, for which she thanked her, but she had learned enough to be able to return the favour to her mother. Her mother’s was so much bigger than hers, yet she felt it looked the same and when she rolled her tongue around the top, Yasmin reacted the same way Dilan had done Teta went down on that part of her.
Yasmin soon returned the favour to her daughter and likewise found the familiarity attractive. She was not overly attracted to women but the overpowering sense of love towards her daughter and the feeling of oneness with her body drove her on. Months spent in naked proximity had served to break down the barriers of familial bond and soon she was driving her tongue into her daughter, desperate to make her cum as she had done. After both had climaxed they fell asleep together in blissful embrace.
