In search of Sophie 13 Sex Stories Cool – Y2 Stories

Darya and Sophie adapt to the hell that Edward Pembroke has trapped them in

Chapter 55
Sophie grinned mischievously as she delicately brushed Darya’s hair, tying the ribbons into perfect bows. “You look absolutely stunning, Darya, I might just have to admit defeat in the beauty department,” she teased, gesturing toward the faint scratch marks still visible on her face from Darya’s attack the week before.

Darya responded in a deadpan manner. “Sophie, those scratches will heal in no time. Besides, I’m not growing a new tooth anytime soon,” she quipped, referring to the casualty of one of Pembroke’s violent outbursts.

Sophie quickly changed the subject. Her gaze drifted to the intricate patterns adorning Darya’s underwear, her admiration evident. “I love your panties. They’re positively exquisite! What does it feel like wearing something so lovely?” she mused, marveling at the ornate lace and delicate design. “I hope daddy lets me wear something like that on my birthday or my Capture Day.”

Darya sucked in the air to calm herself. “Sophie he’s not here, stop saying ‘daddy’ and stop talking about ‘Capture Day’ like it’s not part of his sick game.

“Sorry Darya, I’m just being cheerful. It is still an occasion and it is nice to dress up isn’t it?”

“I suppose they are pretty” Darya felt her hips slide into the white cream panties, they did feel and look nice, as did her matching bra. But of course, it was all for Pembroke.

Sophie hoped she could lighten the mood. She did not want to admit that Darya’s life depended on it.

“And that dress looks lovely, you should put it on now!”

“I guess he will be down soon anyway. Got to look for the monster.”

“Darya please, don’t call him that! Let’s just behave and have a nice evening…” Sophie then whispered in her ear. “I can play with your asshole if you want, I guarantee you will like daddy’s cock in there afterward.”

Darya giggled at the girl’s hopeless optimism and obsession with sex. “God Sophie, what are you like? OK then I promise I will behave myself for our ‘daddy’ I just hope we don’t have to do anything too disgusting to him.”

“Don’t think of daddy as disgusting” chastised Sophie, cheerfully “ and let’s get you into this dress.”The fabric of the dress was light and airy, draping elegantly around Darya’s figure. It accentuated Darya’s curves in all the right places before cascading into layers of chiffon that swirled around the tops of her thighs. The neckline dipped precipitously, drawing attention to her cleavage.

With each movement, the fabric seemed to come alive, swaying gently with Darya’s graceful steps. Sophie watched in awe, captivated by her friend’s transformation.

“You look absolutely enchanting, Darya,” Sophie exclaimed, her voice brimming with admiration. “Like a fairytale princess come to life!” She couldn’t contain her delight, envisioning Darya as a character straight out of one of her beloved nineteenth-century novels.

Sophie felt something else other than admiration. She knelt down, and ran her hands up Darya’s legs, up her dress, and over her panties, that she had admired so recently.

“Shall I get you wet for daddy?” She asked, looking lustily up at her friend.

“Believe me, I would love nothing more than that but…” sighed Darya he will be here, and you have to be in that uniform, come on get dressed, then if you have time you can eat me.”

Sophie slipped on the Willowbridge school uniform. It was Darya’s Capture Day, so she was playing second fiddle, dressed as one of Pembroke’s school girls.

Soon, Darya found herself clad in the bottle green uniform, the skirt scandalously short, and the white panties so adored by their captor.

“Hmm ok … let me eat you now!” giggled Sophie and she pulled up Darya’s dress, pulling her panties down, and tasting her fresh pussy lips.

At that moment, the door opened and Pembroke walked in. He smiled at what he had obviously interrupted.

“Naughty for you to start without me, girls” he mocked. He was in a black dressing gown, and it was revealed he was just in his customary thong underneath.

“Now, I have some red wine with me, and you two will drink it. Let’s sit down first!”

Pembroke released them from the cell and escorted them to the center of the basement. From his workstation corner, he dragged out a large bean bag and two chairs. With a careless toss, he flung his dressing gown into the corner, and in just his thong, he plopped down onto the bean bag. His protruding stomach spilled over the sides of the thong, nearly engulfing it in his flesh. His massive thighs, arms, and legs looked grotesquely out of place in such minimal clothing, accentuating his unattractive physique.

As he lounged on the bean bag and stretched out, his jowls and double chin only served to highlight the stark contrast between his near-naked presence and the two pleasantly dressed girls sitting opposite him.

“Legs slightly apart girls, you should reveal just enough to let me know the color of your panties” he drawled at the two girls who parted their thighs accordingly.

He picked up a bottle of red wine, poured three plastic glasses, and put two on the table. He took the third and gulped it down. “Congratulations Darya. This is your third Capture Day. How does it feel? Darya’s face burned as she watched his double chin croak like a frog guggling down the wine, and the bulging cock filling out his thong.

“I am happy to still be here, daddy. I hope I can bring you pleasure.”

“Ha, really?”

“There are worse things than being your prisoner, daddy. I am determined to make this work, for you and Sophie.”

Sophie’s eyes sparkled with happiness, and she beamed with joy as she reached over to take Darya’s hand. Her smile toward Pembroke held a subtle hint of hope, as if she were silently pleading for his approval from their captor.

“Really, what could be worse than this?” Pembroke lay sprawled back, exposing himself in his thong, looking utterly repulsive and obscene, his tone dripping with apathy and disdain as if their discomfort and revulsion meant nothing to him.

“I could be dead. My family is mostly dead. I am alive, and I want to make the most of it. I want to serve you, and obey you.”

“Good, good. You serve me well Darya! Not as good Sophie here…” he gazed at Sophie, smiling. Sophie smiled back. She hated to admit, she was proud that she was his favourite.

“Daddy, this year I will be better.”

“Good to hear! I expect more obedience, really, that’s all. That is all that daddy wants.”

There was silence.

“Well, I have had another wonderful year. Since you and Sophie came into my life, I realized I never lived until I took you. It was a shadow of a life. And in the outside world, people still look at me and think, what a loser! I wish I could show them the treasure I have down here, that would make them green with envy!” Pembroke’s words dripped with a twisted sense of satisfaction.

Darya sipped the wine. It tasted strong, and she was not so used to it. “The wine is nice, thank you daddy.”

“Have more! Come on, you too Sophie!”

Sophie poured more for all three of them. As she poured Pembroke’s drink he ran his hand up her legs and around her panties. Like an animal, he moved over and bit her on the thigh as Sophie squealed. “Fuck I wish I could do that to my schoolgirls!”

“I’m sorry, daddy, I spilled some on you.”

“Yes, you did. Now lick it off me” Pembroke responded sternly. She reached down and ran her tongue carefully over his belly and licked and sucked some out of his belly button where it had collected. “That’s it, done. Good girl,” he praised her, as his hand wandered back up her skirt.

Sophie was unsure where to go.

“Come sit with me Sophie, bring your glass too.”

Sophie sat on Pembroke’s lap as his hand remained up her skirt and wormed its way into her pussy, as they both supped their wine.

“Now, this is nice. Having a nice schoolgirl on my lap, and celebrating Darya’s special day.”

There was silence while the girls supped nervously and Pembroke daydreamed. They were not used to saying anything unless ordered.

Eventually, Pembroke piped up. “Darya, that dress looks amazing. Is that something you would have worn on the outside?”

“No, daddy, I usually wore jeans and jumpers and robes over the top when I went outside.”

“Very boring. Well, why don’t you do a dance for us.”

“Yes, daddy. What kind of dance do you want?”

“A dance you did at home. Traditional dance. Decent, not sexy. Not for now anyway.”

“Will there be any music?”

“No.”

Sophie noticed the tension in the air. She massaged Pembroke’s cock to get him in a good mood. “Good girl, Sophie, see Darya? Sophie doesn’t wait to be told. Yes Sophie, suck my cock, while Darya does her dance.”

Darya got up and attempted to dance gracefully. She recalled a Kurdish wedding dance she had seen before and moved around the room, her arms flowing through the air, making deliberate strides. There was no music, but she danced on, hoping to mimic what she remembered and satisfy Pembroke’s expectations.

Sophie sucked hard, hoping it would make Pembroke happier with the performance of Darya.

The minutes dragged on, and Darya found herself repeating the same movements again and again, desperately trying to think of something novel to impress Pembroke.

Her anxiety grew as she wondered if he would be satisfied. She saw Pembroke’s face, with his mouth agape, seemingly in pleasure from the blowjob he was receiving from Sophie. Darya couldn’t help but wonder if he was even paying attention to her dance at all. She raised her skirt and swished it around, and flashed her panties at him as if to seek approval.

“Don’t act like a whore, darling, that was a nice pleasant dance, in a nice dress, do not act like a whore flashing your knickers at me!”

The reprimand stung, leaving Darya feeling confused and humiliated. She quickly lowered her skirt, as she realized her mistake. The same moves, half-remembered, were repeated again and again in a seemingly endless cycle. With each repetition, she grew more bewildered, unsure of when she could stop.

Sophie felt his cock twitch in her mouth and a spurt of cum hit her tongue. She sucked his cock dry as Pembroke moaned. “Fuck, well done Sophie. God, you are amazing.”

Darya stopped and stared as Sophie got off him.

“I didn’t tell you to stop!” Pembroke’s voice sliced through the air, commanding attention. “Sophie, get up and dance with Darya. Copy her moves, just keep dancing. And I don’t want to see any filth, understand? Just nice, clean, feminine dancing.”

The directive hung heavy over the two girls as they exchanged uncertain glances. Sophie rose hesitantly, joining Darya in the dance, their movements now measured and cautious, devoid of any spontaneity. Under his watchful gaze, they danced on, striving to adhere to his strict standards, their discomfort palpable.

After what seemed like hours, he stopped them.

“OK, now you I want to see some filth. Dance dirty now.”

“How do you mean, daddy?” asked Sophie innocently.

“Do you need me to spell it out?” Pembroke barked. “Dance sexy, do it!”

The two girls exchanged weary glances before complying with Pembroke’s demand. They swung their hips more and swished their skirts, attempting to infuse some energy into their movements. Sophie started to twerk, though her nervousness was palpable.

“Ha! Terrible performance. Okay, you girls kiss each other,” Pembroke declared.

Relieved for a break from the dancing, Sophie and Darya embraced each other and kissed forcefully. However, there was no passion or desire in the kiss, only a sense of obligation and discomfort.

Pembroke slowly got to his feet. “Okay, why don’t you dance with me?” he suggested with a grin.

The old, overweight man clad only in a thong joined the two well-dressed girls in their dance. Even after all these years underground, the absurdity of the disgusting spectacle weighed heavily on them as they tried to continue ‘partying’ to silence. Meanwhile, Pembroke seemed to be having the time of his life, reveling in the bizarre scenario he had orchestrated.

Pembroke grabbed Darya and began snogging her passionately, running his hands all over her pretty dress. Sophie stopped and looked at them. She was pleased to see Darya respond and kiss back.

“Hmm, Darya, come and join me on the bean bag. Sophie, you keep dancing,” Pembroke instructed with a sly grin.

Darya complied, joining Pembroke on the bean bag and indulging in more wine between their kisses. With each sip, her head grew lighter, the alcohol dulling her senses.

Meanwhile, Sophie continued to dance, though neither Pembroke nor Darya paid her much attention as they became engrossed kissing each other.

Darya felt her heart rate shoot up. The wine made this more bearable but … she still had the feeling that she had to do something. She could not just ‘get through’ another disgusting sex session with his man.

Pembroke broke off the kiss. “OK Darya, sit on that chair, and Sophie, you give her a lap dance.”

The sordid spectacle continued. Sophie brushed against Darya, staring into her eyes, as if to say ‘I love you’ She wanted Darya to get through it, to enjoy it like she could.

Darya enjoyed her friend but Pembroke’s gaze felt like a cancer. So did the sight of the cell walls, the bondage equipment, and the mocking posters. As Sophie danced in front of her, running her hand down her waist, she could see the smiling profile of her own sister, Leyla, behind her, on the wall, in a swimsuit with shorts over them. She wondered if she had drowned in that outfit?

“OK girls, sit down again, let’s have a break.”

They both sat down and pointed their chairs towards the sprawling figure of Pembroke.

“Now, that was fun…”

Pembroke just sipped his wine in silence. Both girls were now sure he was bringing this atmosphere on deliberately.

“You are so pretty Darya, let me take a few photos.”

He took several snaps, including more videos of her dancing. “So nice! If it weren’t for all the sleazy stuff in the background, like that pornographic poster of your slut of a sister, then this would be nice family entertainment!”

“Daddy” Darya’s cheeks burned “my sister wasn’t a slut, she was working as a volunteer on a boat, that is why she is dressed like that.”

“Careful, Darya. It is your special day today, but you still never talk back to daddy.” Pembroke was feeling the wine now and was feeling in the mood for sick games.

“A pity about your mouth though, it really ruins your pretty face, that broken tooth”

Darya’s face flushed. The bastard had broken her tooth.

“But you know, Sophie has such lovely teeth,” Pembroke mused, his voice thick with malice. “Perhaps we don’t need another mouth full of teeth. It would create quite the contrast, wouldn’t it? And who knows, it might even improve your oral skills. What do you say, Darya? Shall we remove your teeth?”

Darya struggled to find her voice amidst the terror. “I … I want to keep my teeth…”

“Why?” Pembroke’s deadpan voice disregarded the gravity of the situation. “Why do you need your teeth? What difference would it make, anyway?”

“I need my teeth, you like them, I need to eat, to chew…”

“You can have mushed-up food, I like Sophie’s teeth. Yours are already broken, so why not go further? No, you are not selling it to me.” Pembroke’s voice dripped with sarcastic malice. “I fail to see why we can’t pluck a few teeth, just for the sake of curiosity. I wonder what it would look like, how the gums would feel against my cock. What compelling reason can you give me to let you keep yours?”

“Oh, unless, of course, you’re planning to impress people outside,” he added with a sneer. “Do you think you’ll go outside or escape from here?”

Darya couldn’t help but cringe at the sheer malevolence emanating from this man. But her fear was real. She was so tired. Three years. Three years and still she had to deal with this unrelenting bullying and horror.

“Daddy, I like my teeth. I think they may be useful, I promise,” Darya pleaded.

Pembroke let out a mocking laugh. “Pathetic, but fine. I’m no dentist, after all … I’d hate to have to start pulling or drilling teeth,” he chuckled in a manic, unsettling manner.

“Come on, drink up girls.” He was tired of the subject.

Sophie drank and started to feel drunk. She was feeling so stressed. She could tell Darya was at the end of her tether and worried what she might say or do i she got more drunk.

“Sophie, take Darya out of that dress, and join me on the bed, I want both of you naked.”

Hours of sex followed. As Darya sat on Pembroke’s face, she felt his tongue inside her and looked at Sophie as she rode his cock, cowgirl style. As they locked eyes, they leaned in to kiss each other. Sophie grabbed Darya by the head and stared into her eyes as their noses touched, and Pembroke penetrated them both below with mouth and cock. “I love you” whispered Sophie, as if to implore her friend to get the will to stay alive.

After some time, all three bodies were intertwined, a mess of sex and bodily fluid on the bed, with the wine being finished. Sophie lay across Pembroke’s belly, and held on to Darya’s hand on his other side, looking at her. Darya was being cuddled aggressively, her head in his armpit. She looked at her sweet friend and thought that in three years, she would be like her. Perhaps she would be comforting and cajoling an even younger girl to satisfy this evil man’s urges.

“OK, girls. I want to take a piss, I have a lot of wine and pussy juice in me. Come on get under that shower head and get on your knees. I want you both drinking and swallowing, OK?”

Darya had been prepared to go to sleep, and this horrible wake-up call sickened her. She had drank so much piss, from him and Sophie, over the last three years but like anal sex, she never got used to it. It tasted too horrible and she struggled to avoid the compulsion to throw up every time she swallowed.

Sophie kissed her on the cheek and took her hand, smiling encouragingly as they walked together to the shower head. Kneeling together, they remained hand in hand. Pembroke enjoyed the scene, they looked perfect together. Two submissive beautiful girls kneeling in unison, their hair tangled and their eyes demure, their soft firm breasts rising and falling together, a beautiful combination of brown and white skin, red and black hair. He almost felt bad about preparing to piss on them. Almost.

“OK Sophie, you first. I want you to swallow it all, open your mouth!”

Pembroke sighed as the hot jet of urine shot into her mouth. Sophie opened her mouth wide, feeling the hot jet of piss hit the back of her throat with surprising force. She struggled to coordinate her swallowing with the continuous stream, each gulp feeling rushed and unsteady. The piss filled her mouth faster than she could swallow, making it difficult to breathe. She could feel the liquid trying to escape past her lips, creating a tickling sensation as it dribbled down her chin.

“Haha, well done Sophie. Now Capture girl, your turn. Open wide…”

Pembroke pointed his cock at Darya. Her eyes flashed up at him. Seeing his gleeful face as Sophie struggled desperately to drink his piss ignited something in her. It didn’t help that the poster of her sister was in her sightline again.

She kept her mouth shut, and let the piss bounce off her nose and lips. “Darya!” Pembroke moved his aim higher at her angry eyes, and she blinked and moved her head to avoid it getting into them.

Pembroke angrily reached down and grabbed her hair. “Darya! What has gotten into you!”

“Darya, please, just drink daddy’s piss!” pleaded Sophie.

“Shut up Sophie, you stay silent!” Pembroke held Darya’s head up, and angrily threatened her. “I am going to start pissing again. On your mouth. If you don’t open up and swallow there will be consequences. Understand?”

Darya did not break eye contact with him, but her lips were sealed shut. Pembroke started up his stream again, and it splashed against her mouth until he ran out and finished.

“You little bitch” he spat.

“Fuck you, you pathetic fat bastard. I am a human being, you will not treat me like an animal!”

Pembroke flinched at the retort, his eyes narrowing.He saw Sophie put her hands to her mouth in shock, her eyes wide with horror. He knew he had to react.

Without hesitation, Pembroke moved swiftly. He raised his knee and delivered a sharp blow to Darya’s face. The force of the impact sent her head backward until the back of her head collided with the wall with a sickening thud. Darya barely had time to register the pain before Pembroke seized her by the hair, yanking her forward. She gasped, her hands instinctively reaching for his, but his grip was unrelenting. He dragged her across the floor, the friction burning her skin as she struggled to keep up with his brutal pace.

“Noooo daddy!” Sophie had got up and was running after them. Pembroke turned sharply, his expression twisted with rage. With an open palm, he slapped Sophie across the face with such force that she was knocked onto her back, a stunned cry escaping her lips. She lay there, dazed and trembling, the imprint of his hand already reddening on her cheek.

He then shifted his attention back to Darya, who was on all fours, struggling to regain her footing. Pembroke delivered a vicious kick to her stomach, the impact driving the air from her lungs and leaving her gasping in agony on the floor.

Pembroke tried to calm down and consider his options. “Sophie, go to the corner and adopt the naru position. Do it now!” he barked, his voice cold and commanding.

Sophie, still reeling from the slap, stuttered an incoherent response before scrambling to her feet. She retreated to the corner, her movements hurried and fearful. Kneeling down, she placed her hands upturned on her thighs, her eyes wide and filled with tears as she stared at the terrifying scene unfolding before her. She silently prayed for her friend, her heart pounding with dread.

Darya struggled to breathe, each attempt to inhale met with searing pain from the kick to her stomach. Her head throbbed from the earlier blows, and her entire body ached from being dragged across the floor. She attempted to push herself up, but before she could regain her footing, Pembroke slapped her hard across the face.

The force of the slap sent her crashing back down, her cheek stinging and her vision blurring from the impact. This time, she didn’t try to get up. Instead, she curled into a fetal ball on the floor, her body trembling as she sobbed uncontrollably, the pain and fear overwhelming her.

Darya struggled to breathe, each attempt to inhale met with searing pain from the kick to her stomach. Her head throbbed from the earlier blows, and her entire body ached from being dragged across the floor. She attempted to push herself up, but before she could regain her footing, Pembroke slapped her hard across the face.

The force of the slap sent her crashing back down, her cheek stinging and her vision blurring from the impact. This time, she didn’t try to get up. Instead, she curled into a fetal ball on the floor, her body trembling as she sobbed uncontrollably, the pain and fear overwhelming her.

“Darya, that level of defiance is unconscionable to me!” Pembroke’s voice dripped with cold fury. “On your Capture Day of all days! Disgraceful behavior which cannot be tolerated.” He loomed over her, his shadow casting an ominous presence over her curled form. “If you can speak, tell me how you should be punished.”

Darya’s sobs subsided into choking gasps as she tried to find her voice. Her body shook with fear and pain, every part of her screaming in protest. Slowly, she uncurled slightly, her face streaked with tears, and looked up at him with pleading eyes.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I’m sorry. I don’t know … please, just stop.” Her words were a desperate plea, devoid of any suggestion of punishment, only a raw appeal for mercy.

“You are not so brave now, are you?” Pembroke sneered, his voice dripping with malice. “Not after a beating. But very soon, you will misbehave again, won’t you? You don’t have the guts to tell me now what I should do to you, do you?”

Darya lay on the floor, her body trembling, unable to respond.

“What did you want five minutes ago?” Pembroke continued, his tone turning mocking. “Did you want out of here? Did you want a release from this life?”

Darya’s mind raced, but she couldn’t bring herself to answer. The terror and anguish paralyzed her, leaving her only able to look at him with eyes filled with a mixture of defiance and despair.

“Please daddy” Sophie called out across the basement floor, “she is drunk from the wine.”

“Sophie I told you not to speak.” Pembroke was angry. He could have a perfect life with just Sophie, a nice pliant slave. He was fed up with Darya’s rebelliousness.

“Right, well if you are not brave enough to say, I will do it!” Pembroke clapped his hands. “First, Sophie, into the cell, come on!”

“Please daddy don’t hurt Darya, please I can help, please…”

Pembroke grabbed her by the arm led her into the cell and closed it leaving her looking out through the glass helplessly at her friend, still injured on the floor.

Pembroke went to his workstation and retrieved cuffs and ropes. Roughly, he grabbed Darya, forcing her wrists together before securing them with the metal cuffs. He then did the same with her ankles, the cuffs clicking into place with a finality that left no room for escape.

He tied the cuffs together with a cord knot, ensuring she was bound tightly. Not satisfied with just that, Pembroke grabbed a fistful of Darya’s hair, yanking her head up sharply. With cruel efficiency, he wrapped her hair around another cord knot, securing it tightly.

Pulling her legs back, he bound them to her wrists, completing the brutal hogtie. Darya’s head was pulled painfully upward by her own hair, forcing her neck into an agonizing arch. Her body strained against the restraints, her muscles quivering with effort and pain. She was utterly immobilized, every slight movement sending fresh waves of agony through her tortured frame.

Pembroke then found a vibrator from his drawers in the workstation and forced it inside her pussy, and turned it on. Sophie screamed to match the sensation. “See, bitch, you like it, even with the pain. You should have surrendered to this life!”

Sophie looked on with her palms against the glass, praying that her daddy would not go further. Pembroke disappeared, and she watched Sophie shake in pain and ecstasy as the vibrator worked inside her. Her nipples were raised off the floor by the painful arch of her hog tie, and her face pulled back almost to face the ceiling, away from Sophie. Daray was screaming and could barely hear Sophie’s voice.

“Darya, please, I am here, please don’t leave me! Stay strong for me!”

Darya heard Sophie, felt the pain and the sensations in her pussy, and could barely think.

Meanwhile, Pembroke was dressed and in his garage, he was sorting through his things and looking for an old rope.

Ten minutes later, amidst the relentless screams and retching from Sophie and Darya, Pembroke strolled into the basement with an air of nonchalance. This time, he was clad in a tracksuit, a stark contrast to the chaos unfolding around him. In his hands, he casually wielded a sizable rope.

Pembroke took the vibrator out of Darya’s pussy and her screaming stopped. She was still in agony from her arched position and drool still dripped from her mouth, along with the piss from her earlier drenching.

Pembroke threw the rope on the rope on the ground and spent some time bringing things from his workstation out of the basement, as if away from prying eyes. He then returned again and threw the rope in the center of the basement.

“Now Darya, you wanted freedom, so I bring you freedom.”

Pembroke fetched a chair and positioned it beneath a ring in the ceiling, typically reserved for bondage games. As he deftly threaded the rope through the ring, Sophie’s heart sank. It dawned on her that he was preparing a noose.

She felt a wave of helplessness wash over her, pressing against the glass of the cell, unable to intervene as she bore witness to the chilling scene unfolding before her eyes.

“OK Dayra. This is your freedom. You can put your head in this noose, and jump off the chair, and it will be over. You can go to heaven or hell or nowhere, but you can escape from here. But don’t fucking complain if you want to stay here. Just accept your lot in life, or accept your lot in death. Your lot in life, is to stay here, and obey my fucking commands OK?”

Pembroke released her, and Dayra struggled to sit up.

“OK, well have a good night. Dayra, if you are not hanging from that noose when I come back here after a good night’s sleep, then I will have you licking my ass, sucking my cock, and will be fucking you hard, understand? Those are your fucking choices. Now good night!”

Pembroke disappeared upstairs. It was just Sophie, in the cell, and Dayra, in the outer basement.

“Dayra, let me you out please!”

Darya gazed at the noose as if it were a strange monument, an eerie gateway to another realm. She heard Sophie’s pleas and saw her friend, but it was as if Sophie belonged to a different world entirely. The noose seemed to offer passage to somewhere else—was it hell, heaven, or just an escape?

Frantically, Darya attempted to open the cell door, but it remained stubbornly shut. “I’m sorry, Sophie,” she whispered, her voice heavy with regret. “You’re stuck in there.”

“Please, Darya,” Sophie implored, her voice tinged with desperation. “You have another chance. Stay with me. Don’t use that noose, please. I love you.”

Darya approached the cell glass and reached out, her fingers almost touching Sophie’s hand on the other side. “Sophie, I love you, but I cannot stay here. I need to go. My family are almost all dead; they died noble deaths. I need to join them.”

“No,” Sophie pleaded tearfully. “Please don’t. Please stay. Please stay with me. Don’t leave me alone!”

“What kind of a life can we have, Sophie? Seriously. We need to end this sooner rather than later. I don’t know about you, but I cannot take that … thing abusing me anymore.”

“Forget about him. Think of me! I know our life is not perfect, but please … we have each other. Please, it’s enough. Who knows what the future will bring, we have to trust in something. We could be free tomorrow if we are lucky.”

“I’ve been waiting three years for tomorrow,” Darya replied, her voice heavy with pain. “Tonight that pig insulted my sister, raped me for the thousandth time, fucking pissed on me, threatened to pull my teeth out. I cannot do it anymore. I don’t want this life to continue.”

Sophie cried, terrified at the thought of facing this horrible underground life alone.

“Sophie, you are strong,” Darya said, her voice trembling with emotion. “I am sorry I said what I said earlier. You can deal with this. It’s me who is weak. I cannot handle it anymore. I am sorry, but I need to … say goodbye.”

“NOOO Darya, please don’t! Please don’t leave me!” Sophie pleaded, her voice breaking with desperation.

Dayra put Sophie’s please out of her mind and toyed with the noose, dressing it around her neck. Standing on her chair, she looked at the ground. Would it kill her or just slowly strangle her? Could she do it? She was only seventeen. ‘A shame,’ she thought, her heart heavy with sorrow. So much life, so much she had to give to the world. But she did not want to give it to the monster. Not in the form of endless sex and acts of debasement, humiliating herself and her family for his sick fantasies.

Sophie was huddled in a corner, shouting at her to stop.

Dayra had her neck in the noose and thought of her brothers, her father, and her sister. All dead. Killed in war, or drowned helping people. Noble deaths. Her life had such promise but this evil bastard had stolen it. She was the only survivor, just to end up as a plaything of a sick loser in a foreign land.

She thought back to her life and the fundamental teachings from her father: “Suicide is a sin.” Indeed, it seemed everyone echoed that sentiment—suicide was a transgression against the gift of life. She envisioned her sister, desperately struggling for air in the water before succumbing to her fate, and her brothers and father meeting their ends in battle. And here she was, contemplating her own demise. Was she taking the easy way out? At just seventeen, if she lived until eighty, there could be opportunities her family never had. Maybe she shouldn’t be the one to determine when her life ended…

With resolve, she stepped off the chair and approached the cell. Sophie leaped up, pressing herself against the glass as if to embrace her. The naked girls wordlessly pressed against the glass as if to embrace, staring into each other’s eyes, their breasts mashed against the glass up against one another.

Darya retreated to the center of the basement and collapsed onto the ground. She was utterly exhausted. Hours of enduring stress, beatings, degradation, endless forced orgasms, and the torment of her own thoughts of suicide had taken their toll. She lay there, feeling utterly drained, her naked body lying splayed.

Sophie cried and sat on the bench. She knew her friend was not out of the woods. Daddy would return, and he might still want to kill her.

Pembroke had been watching, and recording proceedings. He really wanted to get back to just him and Sophie. He had his full of Darya and wanted her out of the way before Sophie lost her loveable submissive personality. He was a little disappointed to see Dayra step back from swinging from the rope, but no matter.

He knew he had to get rid of her. Maybe he could get another girl, but Sophie was his real love. As long as he had her, her co-prisoner was just window-dressing. Dayra had gvien him three years of the peak of her life, and that was enough. He did not want her poison to seep into Sophie.

How would he kill her? He would have to think about it. But kill her, he would surely have to do.

He fell asleep, abuzz with the memories of the day and the crazy power he wielded over the two desperate young women imprisoned beneath him

The next morning, Pembroke woke up and checked his monitor. The noose remained untouched, and Darya sat naked in the corner of the basement, lost in contemplation. Sophie, on the other hand, occupied the opposite corner, naked inside the cell. She pressed her hand against the glass wall, her gaze fixed on her friend, silently pleading.

It was a Saturday morning, and Pembroke knew he had the entire day to plan Darya’s demise. But before he could attend to his dark deeds, he had to check on his mother, wake her, and prepare breakfast for her. He dressed quickly and made his way into her room, his feelings for her still tinged with fondness. His life with his mother existed on a purer, higher plane than the depraved existence of the women living beneath them.

However, when he entered her room, he found her lying still, her eyes wide open, fixed on the wall. He reached out and touched her skin—it was cold. Shock coursed through him. His mother was dead!

Chapter 56
The shock of his mother’s death hit Pembroke hard.

Pembroke had loved his mother, a domineering woman, and had cared for her despite her dementia for almost a decade. She had been a well-regarded teacher in the community. Pembroke was her only surviving son. His brother, Brook, had emigrated to Australia thirty years ago, and he and Pembroke had barely spoken since. Brook had died in a car crash in Sydney in 1999, unmarried.

Pembroke had no real friends or other relatives. Even though his mother had been unresponsive for years, she was his only companion. He had enjoyed talking to her and taking her out to cafes and the church, despite getting no response. Now, he had no one.

No one, that is, except for the two pretty girls locked in his basement.

As people came to pay their respects, Pembroke’s house had never been so full. They all felt sorry for poor Edward, now a lonely bachelor. His pupils sent him cards, and local women came to help with the wake for his mother. The house was filled with a serene peace, the soft hum of conversations, and the bittersweet laughter of old friends recalling memories of Pembroke’s youth. They gathered around a small table with pictures of his mother from her younger years, sharing stories and reminiscing.

The stairwell door behind the table was expertly disguised. No one suspected that beneath the calm surface of Pembroke’s home, in the basement, lay scenes of unimaginable depravity As his mother’s friends laughed and shared stories, they were completely unaware of the dark secrets lying just below their feet.

The girls in the basement had learned of his mother’s death from his tearful confessions a few days ago. They watched in macabre shock as their tormentor and captor cried like a baby, talking about how much he loved his mother and how he wished he had a few more years with her. He spoke of how she had helped him when he was young and how he had always wanted to make her proud.

Pembroke had requested that his mother’s body lie in her coffin at home for a few hours before the funeral, and the funeral service had agreed. He yearned for some private moments with her, not yet ready to say goodbye.

In her bedroom, his mother lay in her coffin, a picture of dignity, wrapped in a shroud.

Pembroke wanted privacy, so he locked his doors and put up a sign reading “Private” in case any visitors came. He sought perfect solitude for the next hour.

The girls were sitting in their cell when the speakers in the basement sounded. “Girls, I want you clean, and naked, in five minutes. I will be down shortly.”

After showering and disregarding their vests and panties, the girls were surprised to see him enter the basement in a black suit and tie, ready for the funeral.

“Here, girls put these clothes on.” He handed them pairs of black knickers, black tights, and cheap black dresses he had found in a charity shop. Bemused, the girls dressed, swapping dresses when they found one fit the other more easily.

Pembroke led them out, and he cuffed their ankles together with a short elasticated cord, granting only a foot’s worth of movement. Their hands were then cuffed behind their backs and encased in single-sleeve gloves that stretched up to their upper arms. This forced their arms together painfully behind their backs, causing their shoulder blades to press tightly against each other. The constraint pushed their backs into an arched position, compelling them to push out their breasts while rendering their hands and arms completely immobilized.

Large gags were placed in their mouths and tightly secured around their heads, forcing their jaws wide open as red rubber balls stretched them, rendering speech impossible. Then, sleep blindfolds were placed over their eyes to deprive them of vision.

Confused and apprehensive, the girls wondered what was happening as Pembroke brushed their hair, smoothing out tangles, and assessed their appearance. Despite their efforts, drool and saliva dribbled from their mouths, making the attempts to look pretty seem futile and absurd.

“Time to pay your respects, girls.”

Darya’s heart thumped with apprehension as she was led upstairs. She had never met Pembroke’s mother, nor seen the house beyond the confines of her blindfold. Her experiences had been limited to occasional outings where she was blindfolded and subjected to painful stretching for suntanning every few months.

In contrast, Sophie had “met” Pembroke’s mother many times. She had been involved in tasks such as washing and feeding, and had even been bound next to her on occasions.

Despite his grief, Pembroke remained methodical and efficient as always, leaving no chance for the girls to escape. They were led together, collars attached with cords linking them to each other. Slowly and carefully, they passed through gates, ascended stairs, and finally arrived in his mother’s room.

Through their blindfolds, the girls sensed sunlight filtering in, the unfamiliar carpet under their stocking feet, and the comforting scent of a normal household. These sensory cues contrasted sharply with their usual confinement.

Pembroke brought the girls before the coffin holding his mother and removed their blindfolds. Both girls blinked furiously, unaccustomed to the sunlight peeking through the shut blinds. After gathering themselves, they were shocked to see the figure of a dead woman before them.

For Darya, it was the first time she had seen another human outside of Sophie and Pembroke in three years. The old woman’s lined face and closed eyes seemed to embody a sense of brutality and dominance.

In contrast, Sophie perceived something different. She noticed that in death, the woman had shed the haunting look of dementia, appearing instead as the competent individual she likely had been in life.

Both girls wondered what this woman had done, to raise this monster of a son.

“My mother wanted me to marry and have children, and I let her down. I wish I could have introduced you two to her properly. But she was too far gone, even when I took you, Sophie. She may not have approved of my behaviour with you two, but at least I did something. I like to think that in some way, my mother would have been proud of me if she could see me with you two girls now.”

The girls looked at Pembroke. In his suit, standing in the bedroom of a normal house, he suddenly seemed terrifyingly ordinary, a harbinger of normalcy in an otherwise surreal situation.

“My mother didn’t approve of loose girls. She believed they should submit to men, though she was quite dominant herself!” Pembroke’s words carried a chilling weight in the silence of the room. “I may not have been able to control women in real life, for my mother, but in our little world underground, I think she would have been proud of me. Now, kneel.”

The girls, dressed in their somber black outfits, their mouths obscenely stretched by the gags, looked thoroughly confused. This whole situation was just so bizarre to them. They knelt as Pembroke did and silently prayed.

“Say a prayer for my mother, girls,” Pembroke instructed solemnly.

Darya hoped that Pembroke’s mother would go to hell, like her horrid son, while Sophie felt a pang of sadness for the old woman. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help but feel relieved that Pembroke’s focus seemed to have shifted away from getting rid of Darya, at least for the time being.

Pembroke had not forgotten about the troublesome Darya. He was still resolved to get rid of her and wanted him and Sophie to be alone again. But for now, had other deaths to think about. When the dust settled and he had some privacy again, then he could think about having a much more discreet disposal of a body.

At the funeral, Pembroke saw young Mabel, looking gorgeous at eighteen in a figure-hugging black dress. His thoughts wandered from his mother, and he reflected sadly that even his grief could not overcome his sick compulsions. He received condolences from Leah O’Reilly, his mother’s carer, who attempted to console him and shared several stories of his mother, painting a picture of their supposed close relationship. Pembroke was a little annoyed by her, knowing that his mother had been practically unresponsive and never formed meaningful connections with anyone.

“Oh Edward, we may never see each other again,” Leah said sentimentally. “Oh, Dave, take a picture of us!”

Pembroke hated having his photo taken. It wasn’t just his ugly appearance he despised seeing; it was the reminder of all the girls whose lives he had ruined with their own carelessness. While her husband took the photo, Pembroke’s eyes wandered to the legs of Mable under her black dress. His cock started to awaken, until he remembered he was the star of the funeral, not some furtive outsider who could sneak perverted glances at the girls, and told himself to keep in control.

A few days later, Pembroke found himself at his mother’s solicitor’s office, struggling to comprehend what he was hearing.

“I’m sorry, Edward, but you know you should have taken steps to get the house put in your own name. However, her last will, before her mind deteriorated, is quite clear, and the house is going to your niece, Angela Candalema.”

His niece. Angela Candalema. Until ten minutes ago, he had never heard of her. Completely unknown to him, his brother Brook had fathered a child with a woman he abandoned. The woman had obtained DNA results confirming Brook as the father, and he had paid her child support until he died twenty years ago.

“I cannot believe my mother never told me about this girl,” Pembroke muttered in disbelief.

“She stipulated that if you had any children, you would inherit the house. I believe she didn’t want you to father a child solely for the sake of inheriting the property. Angela is her only certified biological grandchild, and she wanted the family legacy to continue in this house.”

“But surely this girl cannot want this house; she’s all the way away in Australia?”

“From what I understand, this is a bit of a windfall for them. She and her mother are making plans to visit soon. But don’t worry, Edward, you won’t be kicked out onto the street just yet. I think you can probably live there until Christmas at least, but we will need to conduct a full survey of the house soon.”

“From what I understand, this is a bit of a windfall for them. She and her mother are making plans to visit soon. But don’t worry, Edward, you won’t be kicked out onto the street just yet. I think you can probably live there until Christmas at least, but we will need to conduct a full survey of the house soon.”

Pembroke felt the color drain from his face, and he had to clear the dryness from his mouth before speaking the next words.

“A survey, you say? What for? What are they going to survey?”

“For a valuation of the house, to determine its worth. I looked at the plans. There are five bedrooms, a conservatory, and apparently, you’ve got a large basement. I hope you haven’t got a harem of sex slaves down there, haha.”

Pembroke paused, then forced himself to laugh.

“I’m sorry, Edward, but you’ve only lived there for the last, what, seven years? You can find somewhere else. She has left you a lot of money aside from the house. I know it’s a jolt at your age, but you can find somewhere nice. Maybe a nice villa in Spain with all the money?”

Pembroke had always considered the house his own, despite spending most of his life away from it. As he sat across from the sympathetic solicitor, he couldn’t help but wonder about all the cherished childhood memories he might lose if the house went to someone he barely knew.

But Pembroke’s thoughts weren’t solely consumed by the prospect of losing the house, though that certainly stung. Instead, his mind raced with a more pressing concern: how on earth could he cover up the dark secrets hidden in his basement now?

Pembroke couldn’t help but feel a surge of resentment as he observed his niece, a young woman in her early twenties, who appeared to him as overweight and unattractive. “So our repulsive features run in the family then,” he chuckled inwardly, masking his disdain.

“Fucking Angela,” he thought bitterly, “this fat bitch might be my flesh and blood, but I can’t stand the thought of her having control over this house.” If only she knew that her desire for the house was essentially signing the death warrant for the two much prettier girls hidden beneath its surface.

At school, Pembroke thought of how pointless his job would now be if there was no reason for him to live in Willowbridge. Perhaps he would retire at the end of the school year. He still had contacts who valued his IT skills, he could work abroad, part-time, and earn more money.

He would miss the sexy young schoolgirls, but it was a tortuous attraction. Had he not had Sophie and then Darya to bear the brunt of his sexual depravity, he was sure he would have committed some foolish act and got caught by now. But he still found himself masturbating at lunchtime in the toilets to the memory of the flash of some young girl’s knickers in class and wondered if now would be a good time to quit before fate intervened.

One afternoon in school, he was walking by himself along the corridor when he noticed the young Carrie Atkins walk towards him. Pembroke noticed Carrie Atkins approaching him nervously in the school corridor. Her fear was palpable as she hesitated to pass him, intimidated by his imposing presence.

“Late for class, Carrie?” Pembroke spoke imperiously, his size seeming to trap her in place.

“Yes, sir, sorry, sir,” she stammered, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“Why? I think you should get detention for this,” Pembroke asserted, leering at her with authority.

“Sorry, sir, please, honestly, I am so sorry, please,” Carrie pleaded, her discomfort evident.

Pembroke couldn’t help but marvel at how easily he could intimidate some young girls. You just had to find the right ones.

Carrie had been changing her tampon but could not bring herself to say so in front of Mr Pembroke.

“Get to class, now.”

Carrie scurried away, her head bowed, her blonde curls bouncing like a frightened little mouse. Pembroke watched her retreating figure with a sneer, reveling in the power he held over her.

She must be twelve, or thirteen now, he thought. If he was going to move away, then his old rule of not stealing in his backyard would not apply. Maybe when he had settled his business and was set up somewhere else, little Carrie could be a viable project for him, as his dark thoughts ran round his head, traveling to his groin.

As the discussion turned to pioneers and heroes in Pembroke’s class later that day, he eagerly shared his admiration for figures like Tim Berners-Lee and Alan Turing. However, to his frustration, the class seemed unfamiliar with these names and instead cited examples like Nelson Mandela and Greta Thunberg, which only served to annoy him further.

Turning his attention to Carrie, Pembroke asked for her input. “Well, sir, I think that policewoman who gave the talk at our school last year about helping women caught in porn videos online. I thought she was really great,” Carrie replied earnestly.

Some of the other students nodded in agreement, although none could recall her name. But Pembroke could, and the memory of Afshan Bharwani elicited a surge of contempt within him.

As Carrie spoke passionately about the subject, Pembroke couldn’t help but notice her growing confidence. Her smile was infectious, and the other students watched her with interest, impressed by her conviction.

But Pembroke felt a surge of annoyance. This version of Carrie, confident and strong, was not to his liking. He preferred her meek and submissive, the way he liked her. The thought of Carrie rising above her circumstances unsettled him.

Similarly, he resented the influence Darya had on Sophie, corrupting her sweet submissive nature with her own strength. Pembroke’s misogynistic impulses stirred within him, causing him to clench his fists as Carrie continued to speak. The idea of empowered women was an anathema to him, and it left him seething with resentment.

That evening, after several glasses of wine, he went online and carefully uploaded the videos and pictures he had held for over six years of Afshan. ‘Fuck you, bitch. Try and be an authority figure now.’

Sophie and Darya had seen little of Pembroke since his mother’s death. His infrequent visits meant they often endured long periods without food, sometimes fearing that his absence might lead to fatal starvation.

As a few weeks passed since his mother’s demise, Pembroke sat on the sofa, watching the two girls in their cell through the feed on his laptop monitor. His thoughts drifted to the homely luxury of the house he would soon lose, a bitter reminder of the impending upheaval in his life.

Darya’s facial wounds had healed since her latest beating. Her piercings and scars made her look exotic next to the unmarked and pure-looking Sophie.

“Do you think he will get a wife or something, or change now his mother is gone?” Sophie wondered aloud.

“Maybe,” replied Sophie, considering the possibility. “He loved her, but maybe she hurt daddy, and that’s why he is the way he is.”

“Don’t use that name, Sophie, and don’t make excuses for him,” Darya interjected sharply. “He is a sick, crazy bastard. Maybe this could push him over the edge and make him do something crazy. I just hope if he kills us, it’s quick.”

“Sophie, have faith,” Sophie reassured her, trying to maintain some semblance of hope. “Just do what daddy says, and everything will be all right. It’s what I’ve learned after six years; there is nothing else.”

“There IS something else, Sophie,” Darya exclaimed, standing up before her emotions overwhelmed her, tears streaming down her face. “I just don’t know what it is anymore.”

Pembroke wondered what he could do with them. He had to take the basement apart, and hide all evidence it was ever a sex dungeon. But the girls? Where could he keep them? How could he transport them?

Maybe his mother’s death was a sign. There were other girls, younger girls, out there, and perhaps he needed a new challenge, somewhere else. For Dayra and Sophie, maybe it was cruel to keep them in this environment for, what, twenty more years? At some point they would lose their attractiveness anyway.

But Sophie was the love of his life, he hated the thought of losing her. But he could see no other way.

Darya though? Fuck her. Still defiant and still causing mischief. If these next few weeks would be the last of these girls’ lives, he was going to make Darya’s time as miserable as she deserved it to be. She was not going to ruin the remainder of his time with Sophie.

He strode down to the basement in his dressing gown, with a thong underneath, unannounced. The girls perked up, realizing it was time for sex.

Pembroke did not speak and instead pulled over a bondage table. The girls’ hearts sank. His silence and the ominous equipment surely meant that one or both of them was going to be tortured.

“Darya, you stay in the cell, Sophie, you come out.”

The girls were surprised, it was not like Pembroke to torture Sophie instead of Darya. What was he going to do?

“What would you like me to do, daddy?” asked Sophie sweetly.

“Strip, get those cute little panties off and that T-shirt, and hop on the table. I am going to tie you in nice and tight.” His cold voice terrified the girls.

Sophie tried to calm herself as she lay on the table, allowing her wrists and ankles to be cuffed to the corners of the table. She had long since surrendered to the terrifying idea that Pembroke had absolute power over her, of life and death, but on each occasion like this, she said a silent prayer that he would eventually release her, relatively unscathed.

“Darya, the last few weeks have been pretty tough for me. I hope you have not been taking advantage of this fact.” He looked into the cell at the dark girl sitting on the bench, her hands between her bare thighs, looking nervously at the sinister scene in front of her.

“No … daddy. I promise to be good.”

“Good,” chirruped Pembroke with false cheer as he disappeared behind the curtains to the workstation. He returned with a tray of medical equipment, the gleam of metal needles glinting ominously against the sterile white cloth.

Sophie strained her neck to catch a glimpse and almost choked with fear. Meanwhile, Darya rose to her feet and pressed her trembling hands against the glass of the cell wall, desperate for a closer look at the horrific and ominous equipment. The sight filled her with a gut-wrenching terror for her friend, Sophie, and herself.

In recent years, Pembroke had found himself drawn to accounts of torturers who were given godsent opportunities to wield power over their prisoners. He recoiled at the atrocities committed by figures like Dr. Mengele, yet a part of him couldn’t deny the allure of that power, knowing he possessed the ability to exercise it at any time. While such torturers repulsed him on one level, they also held a twisted fascination for him. After all, when you have complete control over another human being, why not … play a little?

Pembroke seized one of Sophie’s feet, his impulses driving him to lick and suck on it with a perverse affection. He relished the sensation, revelling in his adoration for her feet, while Sophie responded with a familiar moan.

Then, with a sudden shift in demeanor, Pembroke rose to his feet and snatched one of the needles. With a vice-like grip, he held Sophie’s foot steady and pressed the sharp tip of the needle into the delicate space between her toenail and the flesh underneath.

His brows furrowed with concentration as he tried to ignore the bloodcurdling screams from Sophie and the same from Darya, who was banging on the walls of the cell.

Sophie’s body convulsed on the table, her movements erratic and violent. Her ankles and wrists strained against the bindings, pulling taut against the restraints. With each thrash, her limbs jerked uncontrollably, the muscles in her arms and legs straining against the confines of the cuffs. Her breasts and concave stomach heaved with rapid breaths, and her head tossed from side to side, her hair flying wildly around her face.

The needle stuck in the air out of her toe, glinting in the light.

“Please … please don’t hurt her, to it to me!!” Darya was shouting and screaming at him.

“Nah, I don’t think I will,” Pembroke mockingly dismissed Sophie’s plea, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. “I like seeing Sophie like this. She’s a good girl, but even good girls need punishment. What are you going to do to stop it?”

Pembroke sauntered to the walls of the cell, the glass barrier separating him from Darya. He peered into her shocked and angry face, her features still marked with traces of scars and piercings, her eyes flashing with fury as she glared up at him through the tangled strands of her hair. The intensity of her gaze only fuelled Pembroke’s twisted pleasure, relishing in the fear and helplessness he instilled in his captives.

Pembroke marched back to Sophie, running his hand up her open thighs and brushing against her pussy lips. “Hmmm a bit of stubble there, girls you know I don’t like hair there. I think this calls for another needle…”

Pembroke brandished another needle, his grip unyielding as he focused on the same foot once more. With calculated precision, he deftly made an incision under the toenail of Sophie’s second biggest toe, exerting pressure as Sophie’s screams soared to operatic heights of volume and pitch. The piercing sound filled the room, a symphony of agony reverberating off the walls as Pembroke continued his sadistic torment.

He glanced at Darya, now on her knees and hiding her face with her hands.

Pembroke’s voice dripped with malice as he taunted Darya. “Tell you what, Darya. Why don’t you regale me with tales of your sister, Lelya? She’s so fucking hot, better looking than you. I want to hear all about how beautiful she is and what you dream of doing to her.”

Darya felt a surge of hatred towards this man as she understood Pembroke’s sadistic intentions, and how he was using Sophie’s pain against her. Turning towards her, Darya met Sophie’s gaze. Sophie’s face was contorted with agony, her features twisted in pain. Tears streamed down her cheeks, mingling with sweat and blood, as guttural cries of anguish escaped her trembling lips.

“Play with yourself, lose the knickers. I want to hear you talk about your sister’s body, what she looked like, I want to hear about how you spied on her changing in the bedroom, how you sniffed her knickers, how your sister licked you in the bedroom, come on tell me all these stories, loud so Sophie can hear them! Come on, and I want you to cum to it all in your imagination, make me believe it!”

Pembroke returned to the desk holding the needles and brandished a third one. “Poor Sophie, she always begs on your behalf, are you going to help her?”

Darya thought of Sophie’s mantra of doing what daddy wants. Keeping up this pretense was only hurting her. Maybe Sophie was right, losing her sense of decency and humanity was the only way to survive down here. Thinking about her self-respect was only getting Sophie hurt.

She pushed her panties down, and rubbed her pussy with her fingers while staring impassively at Pembroke. His hulking great body in his thong looked as ridiculous as ever, his eyes bright with lust, his face flushed and red with excitement.

“Come on bitch, talk about Leyla, or Sophie gets more needles, and deeper in this time.”

Darya rubbed faster, her eyelids drooped and her mouth opened as she got herself in the mood. This was more than acting, she tried to make herself believe it was real, for Sophie.

“Leyla was so beautiful, look at that hair, she smelled so nice…”

Pembroke now resembled a frenzied madman. His face contorted with rage, his eyes wide and wild, while foam flecked from his lips. His large belly wobbled with each frenzied movement, the flesh jiggling in tandem with his wild gestures.

“I loved Leyla, I loved her body. At night we would sleep together, and I would rub my hands around her belly, like now with Sophie, then I would rub my fingers against her wet pussy. Then we would kiss, and she would go down on me, oh yeah it felt so good!”

Dayra was growing hornier, as her mind traveled to an alternate universe. Sophie knew how awful this must be, and even amid her pain, she gave her a sympathetic look, to thank her for trying to end her torture.

Pembroke got his cock out of this thong, and started masturbating close to the cell wall, as he looked at Darya fingering herself.

“Stick your other finger in your mouth, imagine that is her clit, imagine you’re biting it, oh yes…”

Darya closed her eyes. She had to go into dreamland, this did not mean anything, she told herself.

“Darya could feel herself close to cumming.

“Now, describe Leyla’s naked body, washed up on the beach, after she died, tell me about how you wanna lick her all over, eat seaweed out of her pussy.” Pembroke was now pulling furiously at his cock, his breath coming in quick short gasps. He was close to cumming as well.

Darya silently screamed in revulsion but checked herself back into her dreamworld. “Yeah, her body is so hot, fuck it’s so salty with the seawater, god that seaweed tastes good, tastes of her pussy mmm.”

Darya came, she wasn’t faking. Her pussy squirted out a liquid that sprayed up and against the cell wall in front of Pembroke, who marveled at it as it dripped down.

“Lick it up, quick before it gets to the ground.”

As Darya licked the other side of the glass door, Pembroke shot a wad of sperm against the other side, in the same place. He staggered backward, and looked at Darya, licking her lips on her knees in the cell, with lust still in her eyes.

Pembroke regained his breath and turned to Sophie, still quivering in pain. He quickly plucked the two needles out of her toes, eliciting quick sharp screams from her, and threw them on the cloth with the other needles and wrapped them up. Putting on his dressing gown, and not saying anything, he untied Sophie’s bounds.

“Sophie, clean that up” he pointed to the sperm oozing down the screen of the cell wall. “I don’t need to tell you how.”

Sophie gingerly stepped off the table, picked up her vest and panties, and got to her hands and knees to lick his cum off the glass wall. On the other side, she watched Dayra move close up, as she held her palm up and stared at her, silently communicating her love for her friend.

Pembroke guided Sophie into the cell, locked them both in, and left without a further word.

Sophie rushed to hug Darya, who pushed her away, and ran to the toilet bowl, retching, and threw up.

“Oh Darya, I am so sorry.” Sophie was limping, not wanting to put weight on her sore toes.

“No, I’m sorry, it’s me who got you tortured. I promise Sophie, from now on I will just do what he says. I don’t care anymore. It’s not real anyway, this. I just have to be here until the time comes I can go away again.”

Both girls collapsed in each others’ arms and cried together.

Elsewhere, Afshan Bharwani was alone in her bed, also crying. She had just had to call her father to explain the pornographic images of her that had been shared around. They were years old, but it was clearly her. She was still so ashamed but had been cheered by her father’s response. He had told her he wasn’t embarrassed, it was her affair and he was proud of her. This made her cry even more.

She had received lots of abusive messages. At least now she was twenty-seven she could deal with it better, she thought. But how would this affect her career as a police officer?

She had been grateful for the messages of support, from friends and other girls who had been victims. One message in particular interested her. It was from Eloise Murray, an investigative journalist who seemed to run her own podcast on true crime focusing on women victims.

She pondered the timing of the leak, the sinister intent behind it. Why now, after all these years? Perhaps the material had just been flying around the internet for years and only now someone had recognized her?Afshan imagined, with cold fury, that there had been leaked by this mystery monster himself. But if it had been this animal, who she was sure was the man who had not only done the same to other girls but worse to Sophie Yildiz and Darya Talebani, then why had he done it now?

Maybe he was somehow following the investigation into the missing girls and wanted to throw her off the case? But that must mean he knew everything. It hinted at a level of knowledge and manipulation that shook her to the core.

She could not think of any other reason why he would release it all now. But the investigation was going nowhere, after a promising restart this year. Except, maybe she was a lot closer than she thought she was?

Chapter 57
“Daddy, are you sure Darya is OK in there?”

Pembroke was lying in bed in the middle of the basement with Sophie lying on top of him in post-coital bliss. With his hand resting casually behind his head, he revelled in the sensation of Sophie’s warmth against his chest.

His touch danced delicately across her skin, tracing invisible paths along the curves of her body. His fingers caressed the softness of her cheeks, trailing down the graceful arc of her neck, and tangling gently in the cascade of her crimson locks, untouched by scissors for six years.

Then his hands roamed further, over the contours of Sophie’s slender frame, exploring every curve and hollow.

“Don’t worry Sophie, she can breathe. It’s very effective though. It is nice to get peace and quiet, and some alone time with you.” He grinned and nuzzled his nose against hers affectionately and she smiled back warmly, kissing him. She still held some concern for her friend, though.

A few feet away, resembling a black sarcophagus, lay Darya encased in the sleep sack. It hugged her body tightly, cocooning her in darkness and silence. The headphones, securely in place, blocked out any semblance of sound, while the fabric enveloped her, numbing her skin to sensation. Darya existed in a void, her world reduced to the suffocating embrace of the sack.

Pembroke did wonder how easy it would be to simply block her breathing tube. Earlier he had blocked it casually with his finger for thirty seconds. The sack had barely moved. Inside, Darya had gradually found it harder to breathe and began to panic. She tried to make noise or make movements to get help, thinking there had been an accident. Her lungs screamed as she thought how horrible it would be to die like this, by accident, as Sophie and her captor would open the sack up hours later and find her corpse. But then the air returned, and her lungs battled for several minutes to return to normal.

It would be an easy way to kill them both. Zip one up and just block the tube. Leave it for a few hours. But how to hide it from the next girl? He had thrown away the old sack, and now cursed himself for it.

As his fingers played with Sophie’s hair, he felt bad for the fact it would have to be burned. Such a waste, along with everything else! He put his finger in her mouth, inviting her to suck on it, and she complied, her eyes shining with pleasure. Little did she know he was feeling her teeth, wondering how to break these down. Could they just be burnt? Or would they need to be broken down with acid?

Her body was beautiful, but would soon be inconvenient once the light of her life had left it. He sighed as once again he tried, and failed, to see any way of avoiding having to kill his dear Sophie.

The conversation between Pembroke and Sophie conveys a mix of intimacy and manipulation. However, there are a few adjustments to improve clarity and tone:

“Sophie, how would you feel about leaving this basement and living on an island off the coast of Scotland with me? Just you and me in a cabin. You wouldn’t be able to swim away, the currents are too strong. You’d always be on the island, but you could roam around, play on the beach, in the grass, in our cabin. We could even start a family.”

“That sounds wonderful!” Sophie exclaimed, her interest genuine. “Yes, daddy, I can’t swim, so you don’t have to worry about me going anywhere. I’d behave just as well as I do here. We could start a new life there, just the two of us! And if you want…” Sophie composed herself but remained sincere, “I could have your baby.”

“That does sound like heaven,” Pembroke chuckled, “except the weather’s terrible up there.”

“What about Darya, though? Could she come?” Sophie looked concerned.

Pembroke gave an exasperated sigh. “There is a crowd, Sophie. I know you like her, but, well I don’t think she would fit in. Don’t you think it might be time to say goodbye to her? I miss the days when it was just you and me down here.”

Sophie’s thoughts gradually became more somber. He was now talking about murdering her friend. “I do like her, daddy. She means well, she just has a bad streak in her. Maybe on a Scottish island, with a bit of freedom, she might grow to be happier and be more accepting our … our way of life. Oh! And… “ she clapped her hands together excitedly “she can’t swim, she is terrified of water!”

“Well her sister drowned so I’m not surprised” laughed Pembroke, looking casually at the poster of Leyla.

Sophie was getting more excited about the possibility of life on a Scottish island. Pembroke’s heart broke as he saw how naïve she was, she really believed in this fantasy.

His mind was all over her body, but not purely in a sexual way. As his hand moved between her legs, he imagined sawing through her crotch, into her pussy, and cutting her in half up to her neck. Or should be go sideways?

The lawyer had told him he could hold off on the surveyor for a few more weeks. And that for the time being, Angela Candelema and her mother had no right to enter the property, but soon would and were no doubt planning their trip to the UK.

Time was running out for his beautiful young Sophie, and she had no idea. He wanted to make her last week or so as comfortable as possible and he had fed her ice cream and chocolate, made a special effort to make her orgasm as much as possible, and taken as much alone time with her as possible, butting Darya in the sack.

The unfortunate news of the house had condemned Sophie to death but had merely extended Darya’s life by some weeks. He now saw no reason to upset Sophie by killing her friend, until he had to kill them both.

Sophie stirred at his fingers impaling her, and she moved her head down to his cock and began sucking. Her tongue had recently had the stud removed, along with the rest of her sparse piercings. Pembroke wanted to enjoy her as much in her natural state as possible now. Besides, Darya was still full of metal and would remain so until the end.

As he watched her beautiful twenty-year-old body move over him, he thought of the memories, of the kidnap, the first few weeks, and her terrified and angry moods. She did not love him, but the incarceration had successfully dented her mind and she really was his slave now. He made a silent promise that he would not cause her any unnecessary pain now.

He gazed around the basement, with so many pleasant memories. It would all have to go soon. He had been buying random pieces of scrap from various markets and stockpiling them in his garage. Once the girls were gone, the equipment in the basement along with the rubber floor would go, and be disposed of in a dump somewhere far away. In would come the scrap and vintage rubbish he had collected, and his basement would look for all the world like it had been full of random stuff and barely cleaned out in years.

The basement door and cage, the cell, he could disassemble them all. He thought of his attempts to build them, and how he had hoped he would be able to get a human to make it all worthwhile, not really thinking he would succeed. And as he felt Sophie’s finger slip inside his asshole, her tongue lathering over the helmet of his cock, he relished the knowledge that he had succeeded.

In the cramped confines of Eloise Murray’s office, located in a building in East London, Afshan sat across from her, ready to chat. She was not used to the idea of a podcast. Eloise had 25,000 followers on Twitter, not a big name, but hearing that a police officer had been the victim of revenge porn piqued her interest when a friend of a friend told her.

Afshan had spent the last week bearing the brunt of giggles and sneaking glances from her male colleagues. She was furious at the lack of respect from these pigs. Her colleague Gerald Murphy had supported her, but warned her against giving away too much to a journalist about sexist police culture.

But Afshan had no intention of talking much about the pathetic male police officers. Eloise was surprised that she instead kept talking about a missing persons case, about Sophie Yildiz and Darya Talebani, and about some mystery man who had perhaps murdered both of them and blackmailed countless other women, some into having sex with them.

Eloise was grateful, it sounded like a great story, but got the feeling there was not much evidence to back it up. Afshan, on the other hand, knew she was going to get in trouble over this, but she didn’t care. As far as she was concerned, this mystery man was probably afraid the investigation was getting too close and was trying to destroy her reputation as the investigating officer.

Pembroke never heard or thought of Afshan, other than her appearance at his school and Carrie’s subsequent mention of her. He had no idea she was involved in investigating anything and did not hear about her over the next few weeks after he leaked her material. While he had made a point to google his victims, mainly to relive their torment for his sick pleasure, he was growing tired of it. The response to Afshan had been rather muted, and girls seemed to be getting used to revenge porn. It just wasn’t the life ruiner it had been, he thought ruefully.

He was busy planning a double murder, anyway. He had purchased a large freezer and an electric saw. Once the girls were dead, he would freeze the bodies for a day, then saw the frozen carcasses into small manageable pieces, making them easier to dispose of bit by bit. He figured he could cook, to a crisp, each part in his oven. From then it would be a straightforward next step to burn them quickly in his fireplace in one evening, and the ashes could be scattered in several different places.

It would undoubtedly be distasteful, but little pieces of meat would not look too human. And it had to be done.

He had settled on poison as the murder weapon and had ordered some oleander plants. Using violence seemed too easy, too messy and he wanted something special that he had not done to the girls before. When he considered poison, it was the thrill of the process that attracted him, it reminded him of the work that had gone into kidnapping the girls in the first place!

The oleander plants he bought looked stunning. He let them flourish in his garden, their beauty belying the deadly potential they harbored.

He decided to take both Darya and Sophie out for one last sunning session. As the gentle breeze rustled the leaves, casting dappled shadows over Darya and Sophie, Pembroke looked contentedly at the scene, finding a twisted sense of appropriateness in the sinister connotations. The oleander plants, with their vibrant blooms in shades of pink, white, and red, swayed gently above the restrained girls’ bodies, their beauty belying their lethal nature.

He allowed Sophie loose movement, with no blindfold, and she was able to marvel at the blue sky, the insects, the birds, and even the sounds of children playing in the distance. Pembroke smiled at her happy excited gaze, turning to look at all the flowers, being especially fascinated by the oleander plants swaying directly above her.

Sophie spoke excitedly that night to Darya about what she had seen. She told Darya again about the possible plan for going to a Scottish island. She was sure there was a chance, though Darya gently dismissed it.

A week passed, and Pembroke had harvested the leaves, dried them, and extracted the poison, he hoped. This reminded him of chemistry, a subject he had loved as a child.

Teresa and Jenny were looking forward to the birth of Jenny’s second child. Soon it would be six years since Sophie had disappeared, and little Sophie, her namesake, now nearly a year old, was crawling along the floor of their flat.

“I find it so hard to call her Sophie sometimes,” Teresa sobbed. Jenny held her close. “I know, Mum, but don’t worry, we won’t ever forget her.”

As they watched the baby explore, the bittersweet memories of their missing Sophie lingered, mingling with the hope and anticipation of the new life soon to join their family.

Yasmin Talebani was confined to a mental institution, her mind unravelling since the horrific moment she had viewed the terrible video. Overwhelmed by the relentless onslaught of memories and guilt, as well as the multiple deaths in her family, Yasmin had succumbed to a severe mental breakdown.

In a desperate attempt to find release from her torment, she had taken a razor to her skin, slashing deep and repeatedly until her room was drenched in her blood.

Now, as she sat in the sterile confines of the institution, Yasmin was a mere shadow of her former self. Her once vibrant eyes were dull and vacant, barely registering the presence of the doctor who was gently probing her with questions. Each inquiry was met with the same vacant stare, her lips moving only to whisper one word over and over, “Darya.”

Afshan Bharwani found herself in a disciplinary meeting with her bosses. She had spoken on a podcast with a journalist, discussing cases and making unsubstantiated claims about ongoing investigations. In her eagerness to engage the public, she had ventured into dangerous territory.

“We can’t have vigilantes hunting down people that look like that sketch, and it looks like a million different people. I mean, I look like that guy!” her inspector reprimanded her.

“Sorry,” Afshan muttered, her remorse evident. “I just thought maybe if there was more public engagement, people might know something.”

“Not like this,” her superior admonished. “We’ve already tried campaigns with missing posters, and we don’t have any firm evidence that this guy is behind anything. It’s embarrassing. It could be anyone, and how accurate can it be when you’re drawing from memory? Half of these cases aren’t even substantiated.”

Afshan remained silent, knowing that in her case, there was no evidence that a crime had been committed. More than a few officers believed that the likes of Afshan and Molly hadn’t been forced into sex with this man at all or even met him—that they had fabricated the stories, perhaps seeking attention. Teresa Yildiz, in particular, had a history of making unfounded claims and prejudicing investigations. The sketch itself was so vague, it was of a heavy-set, balding middle-aged man of whome there were hudnreds of thousands.

Afshan grew angry. Maybe the police were going to get rid of her and would use this as an excuse. But it was the naked photos and videos that were behind it, they thought of her as a hysterical, horny girl who wasn’t fit to be a police officer.

Leah O’Reilly scrolled through her phone, chatting casually with her husband, Dave, as their children played on the floor nearby.

“You should give Joe Rogan a listen,” Dave suggested. “That true crime stuff is boring; it’s all made up anyway.”

Leah chuckled softly, her eyes still fixed on the screen. “Yeah, you wouldn’t get it. You’re not a woman; you don’t know what it’s like.”

She had been engrossed in Eloise Murray’s podcast, captivated by the latest episode featuring a policewoman whose naked photos had been stolen and uploaded online. The story had seemed fantastical, with the policewoman weaving a bizarre conspiracy theory about a criminal mastermind blackmailing her and releasing the photos to derail her investigation into the cases of missing girls, Sophie and Darya. Memories of Sophie Yildiz’s disappearance years ago stirred within her.

“Do you really think some pedophile rapist would believe he could stop a police investigation by stealing a twent something police woman’s naked photos and releasing them?” Dave’s skepticism broke through Leah’s thoughts. “That woman is talking nonsense. She can’t deal with the fact her ex or someone has leaked the photos and is just spinning this bizarre theory about those missing girls.”

Leah was staring at the sketch of the man she found from Murray’s website. It looked so normal, like her own father! She thought if she might know him.

“Oh my God, what about Francis Izzit?” Leah suddenly thought of the single old man who had been a sex offender and lived a few streets away. It looked just like him!

“I hope you’re not going to ruin anyone’s life, Leah. Be careful before you pass on any details to that podcaster. Anyway, Francis made a mistake, and he’s dealt with it. No sense in picking on him again without any evidence,” Dave cautioned. “I mean it could be anyone, it could be … I don’t know … that man whose mother’s funeral we went to a month back or so…”

“Edward Pembroke?” asked Leah.

“Yeah, Pembroke was the name. But it could also be anyone, I’ll look like that in twenty years!”

Leah suddenly had a thought. She had cared for his mother for years, and often worked with a young Polish woman with long red hair, Polina. The old woman was usually non-verbal but with Leah, she did talk, though often did not make much sense and got confused. She often told Leah how she had a daughter, and sometimes told her that her daughter was visiting her, meaning Polina, and they often laughed, knowing that the old woman had no daughter.

Polina had been fired from the nursing home a few years ago for abusing some of the guests after an angry outburst. A few days later, Leah was assisting the elderly Pembroke woman when she noticed strands of red hair on her, reminiscent of Polina’s. Furious, Leah demanded to know why Polina was back working again, arguing with her boss that only Polina had that distinctive red hair. However, her boss assured her that Polina was truly gone.

Sophie Yildiz, the missing girl, famously had bright red hair.

Leah stared into space.

“Leah, don’t send Francis’ photo in to that podcast. I know what you are thinking!”

Leah tried to get to sleep that night, but couldn’t. She really needed to get off these conspiracy podcasts! She went downstairs for some milk, and went through her phone, and found the photo of her and Edward Pembroke together at his mother’s funeral. She also found a photo of Francis Izzet. Acting on impulse, she emailed both photos to Eloise Murray’s website before returning to bed.

As she lay there, Leah found a sense of peace in knowing she had done everything she could. Though she was sure both Edward and Francis were innocent, the nagging doubts lingered. Yet, she preferred the security of having taken action, even if it was just a small gesture in the grand scheme of things.

Pembroke was staring down at Sophie’s bright shining blue eyes as she sucked on his throbbing cock, as he fondled Darya’s breasts. It had been a glorious few hours of sex. Darya had, for some reason, become the perfect slave the last week or so, and had really competed with Sophie for Pembroke’s affections. She had accepted that the only way to keep her sanity was to debase herself. Dignity was a luxury, down here, she would gladly humiliate herself if it meant that her ‘daddy’ was happy. Sophie was delighted as well and hoped that after the tumultuous last few months, both she and Darya might become a pleasing pair of sex slaves for Pembroke. Rather than dreaming of her own freedom, she now clung to the fantasy that he would upgrade their circumstances. The memories of the garden, the butterfly landing on her nose! It had been too perfect, and she dreamt of Pembroke looking after her and Darya in a small cottage, somewhere, in the middle of nowhere, away from the world but in the land of nature.

Pembroke had to hide the tears falling from his face as he watched the girls making passionate love with each other in front of him. They truly loved each other. “Girls, I want you to put these on, then I want you to make each other cum with your fingers, soaking these panties!”

The girls giggled and each slipped on the panties. One said “S” and the other “D”. “Oh daddy, you put our names on them, how lovely!” Darya smiled warmly at him, and Sophie looked at her lovingly then back at Pembroke.

They then got to work, and before long each had squired into their panties, soaking them completely. Pembroke smiled sadly. He would treasure these and hoped the scent would stay on them for years. Everything was now for the last time.

“Now ladies, why don’t you change into that beautiful lingerie I got you?”

“Yes! thank you daddy, it looks so gorgeous, which colour is mine?” Sophie clapped her hands excitedly like a seal.

“Yours is red, matching your hair. Darya, yours is blue, matching the sea.”

“Why the sea, daddy?” Darya frowned, confused. Pembroke wanted to say, because of your sister, and in honor of her. But he realized it would be giving the game away. Again, he had to hide a tear, and nervously realized he might alert them to the fact that something was afoot.

“Oh, I just like it, it matches Sophie’s eyes!”

Sophie and Darya exuded a captivating allure as they posed in their lingerie. Sophie was clad in crimson panties and a matching bra adorned with delicate lace. The vibrant red hues of her ensemble accentuated her porcelain skin, while the stockings hugged her slender legs. Her well-coiffured red hair and ruby red lips cascaded around her shoulders, framing her face and matching her outfit.

In contrast, Darya epitomized elegance in her ensemble of silk French knickers and a blue bra. The smooth, luxurious fabric draped gracefully over her curves, accentuating her ample cleavage. The rich blue hues of her lingerie set complemented her dark complexion.

“Amazing, you look beautiful” Pembroke could hardly get the words out. These girls were stunning, like models and they were now his almost willing sex slaves. And now he had to murder them.

With shaking hands, he took some photos of them and directed them to kiss each other, which they did gladly, giggling as they ran their hands over each other’s lingerie, exploring the fabric.

“Now ladies” Pembroke’s throat caught “why don’t I get you some wine? That’s a nice drink for ladies, your daddy will stick to beer.”

“Oh thank you daddy” giggled Sophie.

“Could we maybe have some food too, daddy, we are hungry…”

“Of course, some wine, then food. I will be back down soon” intoned Pembroke. The food would not be necessary. The girls had not eaten for over 24 hours, because Pembroke wanted the poison to be absorbed quickly. It was for their own benefit, he thought to himself, he wanted the death to be as quick as possible. He only hoped he would not have to use the knife he intended to bring, as back up.

As he walked up the stairs, he pondered that the next time he did so, he would be carrying their dead limp bodies. As he came into his hallway, he passed the large freezer, already running and ready to receive the crumpled limbs of beautiful female flesh.

The saw was already set up at his workstation. The poor girls had no idea what it was and were hoping that he would be extending their cell with it somehow. This time tomorrow, he would be making the unpleasant task of lifting their frozen carcasses and carrying them back down to the basement, where he would saw through the frozen flesh, leaving no blood marks. Then the defrosting, then the mass cooking and barbecuing of each lump of flesh, and the disposal of the ashes.

Another thing that would be wasted would be bondage equipment and the security doors and cell. There would be more long trips in a rented van to find dumps around the country, probably combined with the scattering of human remains.

He was glad he could take the week off work. He would be back at work, refreshed, and with his mind clear for any surveyor or Australian relative to come to take his house away.

But now, for the task at hand. The oleander poison was quite pungent and would be suspicious to the girls in water, but red wine would mask it. He had drank some red wine last night, to celebrate his last night of Sophie and Darya, but was sure there was some left.

He was annoyed to see there was only an open bottle of Blossom Hill. Having seen the girls resplendent in expensive lingerie, he felt they deserved more than this, He would go to the local shop and get a good bottle that did justice to the occasion, and the beauty of these girls who had, and would, sacrifice so much for him.

He watched monitor and saw the girls were on the bed, their hands in each others’ panties. He put on the speaker.

“Hello girls, it’s daddy! I am going out to get some wine and will be back shortly. You can have fun but no taking off the lingerie, keep it on, daddy will be checking later, no cheating!”

The girls laughed and looked around at the various cameras. “Yes daddy, we promise!”

Pembroke drove out to the local corner shop, only to find it shut for lunch. Undeterred, he redirected his course toward the nearby supermarket. As he navigated the streets, the vibrant atmosphere of the sunny day caught his attention. The upturn in the weather seemed to have lifted everyone’s spirits.

People bustled about, their faces adorned with smiles as they soaked in the warmth of the first good days of summer. Women strolled through the aisles in flowery dresses, their laughter mingling with the excited chatter of children trailing behind them. The air buzzed with anticipation and happiness, a stark contrast to the somber task that lay ahead for Pembroke.

Pembroke selected a bottle of Malbec, yes this was a good bottle for the occasion. It would provide a rich and flavorful option to conceal the taste of the poison.

As Pembroke strolled through the aisles of the supermarket, his gaze met that of a pretty young woman in a flowery dress. A warm smile graced his lips as he made eye contact with her, and to his delight, she returned the gesture. Emboldened by her smile, Pembroke continued on his way, his spirits lifted by the brief but pleasant encounter.

It was a sad occurrence, he thought, but perhaps it might be for the best. Good to go out on a high! Young Sophie and Darya might eventually get older, hit their mid-twenties, and get health problems from being inside too long. Their behavior might deteriorate again, and this brief interlude of obedience of Darya might only be a flash in the pan.

Yes, it was good to look at the positives, he thought. ‘Moving on’, he should see it as. He had a beautiful time with the girls and now it was over, but, that’s life.

He would always treasure these last few years as the best years of his life, but he was still just sixty-one. He had a few years left in him yet! Age was just a number, what mattered was the ability to kidnap and keep girls and he had proved he could do it with two of them.

As he watched a mother leading her children, he felt a pang of sorrow for the mothers of his girls. He hoped they had long since given up hope. He felt sorry but … there was just no way he was going to go to prison. Not when there were so many other tantalizing possibilities!

He pondered his next move, his mind drifted to potential destinations where he could start anew. Vietnam and Latin America beckoned with promises of adventure and opportunity, offering favorable conditions for his particular interests in sex tourism. He contemplated using his savings and skills to establish himself in a new environment, one where he could indulge his predilections while maintaining a semblance of security.

For Pembroke, the rule of law held significance not as a deterrent, but rather as a framework to navigate and manipulate to his advantage. An Englishman’s home was his castle, which could include a dungeon, he had learned.

He joined the checkout behind a family with three daughters, each one slightly taller than the next. He smiled at the youngest who grinned back. The middle one held his attention, black hair, wearing tiny hot pants and a Hello Kitty T shirt with flip flops on her feet. Very cute! Perhaps next time he might target sisters, two for one in one snatch!

He thanked the check-out lady, another young woman, who ignored him. He wondered if she ever thought how lucky she was to be walking around, day and day, and not trapped in a sex dungeon under the ground. He imagined her as his next project, as she ripped the security tag of the bottle in a bored manner, trailing her, finding out where she lived, and then having her relive this moment later, telling her as she was naked, whipped, bleeding and crying, that it was when she handled a customers bottle of wine that her world had changed, she just didn’t know it yet…

He walked towards his car and saw yet another potential target, a young Chinese girl in denim shorts and a tank top, who should probably have been in school. She was cute, maybe fourteen at most. Maybe she was a truant, maybe she had a history of it? Who knew where she was all day, she certainly wasn’t at Pembroke’s school. He imagined her going missing, the first few hours, her worried parents.

The girl turned to Pembroke, gave him a bored expression, and turned away. Pembroke grinned. Of course, she wasn’t interested in him. He imagined her again trying to look bored, with her body whipped red raw, tears falling down her face, and her pleading not to be hurt anymore. He took another look at her cute little bottom and drove off.

It was good to be alive. The girls would soon be dead, but for Pembroke, there were so many more girls out there ready to be plucked, they just didn’t know it. Yes, wherever he moved to, his first port of call would be to get a basement.