Edward Pembroke – Slave Procurement Part 2

#Abuse #Rape #Teen #Virgin 2 mins ago

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By Edward Pembroke The collection of sex slaves begins. Girls start to mysteriously disappear in France and the Mediterranean

Rebecca Parker had endured a harrowing few days. Ever since her violent abduction from her home, she had been trapped in a nightmare. Shoved into a sack that restricted her every movement, blindfolded, and gagged, she had been jostled around for hours on end. She feared her captor had forgotten she was still alive, or worse, didn’t care.

She was terrified by the uncertainty of who had kidnapped her. Was it some crazed vigilante? A member of her own family trying to scrub their reputation clean? She knew she had done wrong, but she didn’t deserve this. She didn’t want to die, condemned as a degenerate pervert by her peers. The loneliness was crushing. No one was coming to help her or sympathize with her.

She awoke, after what felt like almost a day, in a dark, utterly silent cellar. She was naked, save for an ankle cuff which was attached by a chain to a strong D-ring on the wall. The only light came from a tiny lightbulb overhead. Edward Pembroke had managed to lease out a container within a larger storage facility for a shipping company in an industrial estate outside of Glasgow, Scotland. The Azmari parent company operating it would not need it for the next month or so, and they were happy to lease it out to Pembroke. It was very private and very soundproof.

Rebecca had been dragged into the cellar-like container, stripped, and cuffed by the ankle by the same masked man who had abducted her in her bedroom. He did not talk, and responded to her frantic pleas, once ungagged, by punching her in the mouth, leaving her with a bloody mouth and a terror of opening it again.

She was cold, and kept rubbing herself to stay warm. The dim red light showed that there was nothing else in the cellar, even out of her reach, only the steel door.

Hours passed, and she thought she might die of thirst or hypothermia. Eventually, the door opened and a chink of vague light came in, accompanied by the man.

This time, he was unmasked. He quickly shut the door behind him.

“My goodness, Rebecca, it stinks in here! I see you’ve been to the toilet already. Heavens, I think you need to be cleaned before we proceed. Now, we are in an isolated area, and I’m going to open the door again. No one can hear you; we are inside a secure unit, and no one is around outside. Even so, I don’t want to hear any screaming, or I will be very angry. It won’t save you; it will just make me hit you, OK?”

Rebecca was surprised by his urbane and educated manner. This man was not a vigilante from her hometown. He was dark-haired, almost handsome, and in his forties. Since embarking on this venture, a light had come on inside Edward Pembroke, making him strangely attractive.

He opened the door, and she could tell they were still inside from the dimness of the light. She then saw him bring in a hose.

Jets of ice-cold water blasted at the naked woman, who screamed and shouted, raising her hands in a futile attempt to shield herself.

Pembroke laughed, relishing in her frantic attempts to evade the water. He sprayed her relentlessly, the icy jets hitting her from every angle.

“Open your legs, Rebecca, I need you clean there the most!” She obeyed him, frantically trying to placate him to make the cold stop. “Please … no more!”

He sprayed the floor of the container, allowing the water to flow out through the narrow gaps, taking all the unpleasantness with it.

Once he had satisfied himself, he threw the woman a large towel. “I will be back in a while, dry yourself!”

Pembroke stepped outside and went over his busy schedule with meticulous care. After some calculations and arrangements, he returned to the container with bottles of water, food, and blankets in hand.

Rebecca was shivering, hiding herself in the towel.

“What do you want? Why did you kidnap me? Where am I?” she demanded, her voice trembling with fear.

Pembroke’s relaxed demeanor remained unchanged as he began to explain his motives for the kidnapping.

“Mrs. Rebecca Parker. I hope I have the right woman?” he chuckled, observing the woman sitting on the ground, wrapped in her blanket, cowering from him.

“Yes, what do you want?” Rebecca asked, her voice quivering.

“I am sure you can think of reasons why people would want to hurt you?” Pembroke replied calmly. “You went to prison for child abuse, of your own children. A more heinous crime one cannot imagine!” His tone was matter-of-fact, devoid of any accusation or anger.

“Tears streamed down Rebecca’s face, her voice thick with despair. ‘Yes, I admit it,’ she choked out. ‘I made a terrible mistake. I was drunk, and I paid the price. A heavy price. But I served my time. Why can’t they just let me go?’ Her voice rose, laced with raw desperation. ‘What more do you want from me? What can I possibly do to make it stop? If you’re going to kill me, just get it over with. I don’t care anymore. There’s no changing what I did. But please,’ she pleaded, her voice cracking, ‘just let me have some peace.’

“Mrs. Parker,” Pembroke began, his voice smooth as polished marble, “it seems your life in England has reached a dead end. Reuniting with your children? That ship has sailed, I’m afraid. Perhaps for the best, wouldn’t you agree?”

He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing with a chilling smile. “Now, as for your future, peace won’t be part of the package. What I have in mind is … different. Consider it a unique opportunity, though one with limited choices.” His smile vanished, replaced by a steely glint in his eyes.

“The world will assume you’ve met an unfortunate end, either by someone else’s hand or your own. Your family might even find solace in your absence. A clean break, wouldn’t you say?”

Pembroke leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low growl. “However, there is an alternative to your presumed demise. You can remain alive, but only under my very strict control. Think of it as a second chance, albeit a twisted one. Disobey, and your ‘disappearance’ becomes a permanent reality. Actually, there isn’t really a choice.”

Rebecca groaned. She wished she had killed herself, and wondered if she would regret it if she went along with anything this man wanted her to do.

“I am not really interested in your answer, Rebecca. Because I am going to make you do the things I want you to do.”

“Please, sir, I know I did wrong. But, I’m not evil, I just did something stupid, and I paid for it…”

Pembroke suddenly lashed out with a backhand to the side of her head, sending her sprawling. She dropped the blanket, exposing herself again. Pembroke looked again at the large breasts, the fleshy belly, and hips, and thought a few weeks of starvation might not be a bad option for her.

“I don’t give a fuck, Rebecca. What matters is that you have no life to go back to, and you already have some depravity in you. Don’t think I haven’t heard about you, all the chats you were in, the porn you watched. Your whole neighbourhood knows, it’s all over the internet!”

Rebecca cried. She had let herself down, badly. Unlike with other crimes, there was no one who would ever forgive her. No amount of apologies or amends could erase the past. She was now entirely at the mercy of this evil man and it broke her heart that no one would be interested in helping her even if they could.

“Yes, I’m sick. I’m sorry. What more can I do?” she sobbed.

“I want you to stop being sorry, I want you to be even sicker for me.” Pembroke smiled and began undressing casually.

“You see, Rebecca, I want you to come into business with me. Now, it will not be as equals, in fact, you will be my prisoner, my slave, to do whatever I want, on pain of death. But I want you to enjoy yourself. You see, I have kidnapped you to help me train some young ladies for a specific purpose.”

Rebecca’s eyes opened wide as he began stipping all his clothes off and realized what he was saying.

“No! I won’t do it anymore! I don’t care what you do to me, what I did, I want to go to my grave a decent person!”

“Haha, don’t worry Rebecca, you can always tell the devil I made you do it! Tell you what, your kids hate you but I know you still care for them, little Terry and Olivia…”

“No! Please don’t harm my children!”

“Strong words coming from a sexual abuser, from someone whose kids will never want to see them again, ever!”

“I don’t care, I am a monster, I was a monster, but I will not have them harmed, I’ll sacrifice anything!”

Pembroke was now naked and smiled at the pleading woman. He believed her. She had committed a relatively minor transgression by his standards, and still loved her children. He had a nice hold on her, any mischief on her part, and her kids would be punished.

“Well, your kids will grow up and be happy, if you just work with me on this project then!” Pembroke winked at her. “We are at early stages, but I know what filth you have in your mind, and I want you to practise it on these young ladies, who are much purer and more innocent than you!”

Rebecca’s blood ran cold as she realised she was being used for some disgusting undefined purpose. She looked at his erect cock inches from her face.

“I do not want you to be shy, Rebecca. Whatever depravity you have inside you, you can release it. Now, I have had a long journey, and I am going to rape you now. First, I want you to suck me.”

Rebecca wondered what choices she had. Was there any way out? Should she wait? Would there be more violence?

She tentatively leaned forwards and ran her tongue and lips over the man’s cock. Pembroke sighed. “You are good at this Rebecca hmm. I hope you like eating pussy too, you are going to get a lot of it very soon.”

Soon, he pushed her head away and directed her to lie down. He entered her, and stared into her face as he ravished her.

“You and I will have such fun Rebecca! Wait till you see the fine fillies we have waiting to be trained. Waiting to be ordered about, and trained to be fuck holes.”

Pembroke thought of Charlotte Spencer, Dilan Talebani and Elena Petrova, as he came inside the older woman.

He got up and got dressed. Rebecca covered herself with the blanket again, wondering what he would do to her next.

“These ladies will be quite upper class, much more sophisticated than you. So you must remember your place, but at the same time, you will have power over them. Have you ever struck a girl before?”

“No … no, why would I want to do that?”

Pembroke casually grabbed her by the hair, bent her over, and spanked her hard on her ass. He laughed as she screamed in fright.

“Beating someone, especially someone you want to fuck, is one of life’s greatest pleasures, Rebecca. Maybe you beat your own kids? Well, I am going to do it to you, and you will learn to discipline your charges too. I want you to think about it.”

Rebecca rubbed her behind, cursing him.

“Now, now Rebecca, you will be obedient.” And with that he slapped her across the face, sending her onto her back.

“You see, violence is going to be a way of life for you now. It has been for me for a long time. But for now, I think you need to lose some weight.”

Pembroke was now fully dressed. “I have a busy schedule. Girls to meet, disappearances to arrange. Human trafficking to arrange. You are just a small piece. So I am going to leave you here, perhaps for a few days. Here is plenty of water, and some bananas, bread apples. That should keep you from starvation.

“Please, don’t just lock me up here!”

“Ha, or what? Don’t worry, soon you will be drowning in pussy, for now, just be patient and think of it!”

Pembroke slammed the door shut and locked up. He had his first attendant.

Rebecca grabbed another blanket and ate one of the bananas. She wondered what her future would hold. It seemed to be just one nightmare after another.

Anna Gao had just completed another stunning round of skiing, her proud parents looking on from the balcony of the exclusive ski resort restaurant. Harry Gao, a well-respected business magnate from China, had recently shifted his focus from relentless profit-making to philanthropy, finding immense joy in spending more time with his family. Downsizing his electronics firm had been a pivotal decision, driven by his daughter Anna’s insistence. At her urging, he had withdrawn his factory from the Gulf state of Azmaria in protest of its poor workers’ rights record. This decision, while costly and infuriating to the Azmarian government, had brought great happiness to Anna and reinforced her belief in social responsibility.

Susan Gao, a retired 1990s supermodel, also took immense pride in their only daughter’s skiing prowess. Anna, who had just finished high school, was soon to compete in the Winter Olympics and had secured a place at Stanford University. Her parents couldn’t have been prouder of her achievements and the principled young woman she had become.

As they admired Anna from the balcony, they were not alone in their admiration. Among the onlookers was Clemence Carnot, a skiing aficionado and representative of an international sports marketing company. Due to an unfortunate injury, Clemence was not skiing that day but was keen to get to know young Anna Gao.

Edward Pembroke could not ski, and was happy to limp along to hide his lack of skill being exposed. His expensive ski attire and confident nature made him fit right in among the exclusive clientele.

He watched the beautiful young Anna Gao approach, admiring her slim body in her ski pants. Her pretty Asiatic features still shone from her father’s side, while she had inherited her mother’s honey-brown hair and eyes.

“I would love my own harem,” thought the lecherous Pembroke as he approached the Gao table.

“Best of luck, Ms. Gao. Clemence Carnot, at your service, Rettiger International Sports. Don’t worry, I am not touting for business. I know young Anna here is already in great demand! I just wanted to congratulate you on some fantastic skiing and wish you good luck for the Olympics!”

Harry Gao beamed, puffing out his chest a little with pride. “Thank you, Sir! Anna is a natural on the slopes. We’re simply thrilled for her.”

Susan, ever the picture of elegance, leaned in and offered a warm smile. “It’s kind of you to say such kind words. These Olympics are a dream come true for her.”

Anna, slightly flushed from the exertion and praise, bowed her head shyly. “Thank youMonsueiur Carnot. It means a lot.”

“Please, call me Clemence. And truly, it’s no trouble at all. Your daughter is an inspiration. Have you decided which events she’ll be competing in?”

Harry, ever the businessman, straightened slightly. “The downhill and the giant slalom for certain. We’re still finalizing the details with the national team coaches.”

“I just want to do my best, Monsieur Carnot” said Anna, shyly. Without her ski goggles, she looked so pretty. Clemence Carnot grinned at her, his mind racing with malicious intent. The girl was beautiful, her figure filling out the ski pants perfectly.

“I’m sure you will, Anna,” he said, his tone smooth and seemingly sincere. “You’ve got a bright future ahead of you.”

The Gao family continued to chat with the friendly French sports marketer, pitying his apparent injury. Pembroke was able to gauge the deep love of the family and guessed that Mr Gao’s decision to pull his factory out of the Crown Prince’s domain was the reason why his daughter was soon destined to disappear off the face of the earth. But as he bathed in the girl’s gentle exuberance and beauty he could not help but silently toast his boss’s tastes in sex slaves.

Pembroke’s next stop was rural southern Turkey, forty miles inland from the sea. Nestled amidst arid farmland, a cluster of sturdy buildings stood sentinel. Once a bustling military base and copper wire factory, the complex now slumbered in a semi-abandoned state, stretching for miles around. This isolation made it a haven for the kind of operation Pembroke had planned, particularly after some modest bribes to the local police chief.

Pembroke stood waiting for his visitors at the complex. The desolate surroundings and the silence, broken only by the occasional gust of wind, added to the sense of foreboding.

Before long, a white van appeared, dust billowing in its wake. He watched intently as the vehicle approached, its tires crunching on the gravel road. The van came to a stop, and the doors opened, revealing a large man who stepped out. His face was horrifically disfigured and would have shocked anyone, but Pembroke smiled in greeting.

Jamal Haddad was just the man that Pembroke wanted, just as he had been the man wanted by Ahmed Al-Masri. Jamal had a troubled upbringing and had ended up in prison in Syria for rape by the time the Syrian civil war had started. He joined the rebels, then switched sides, but had no interest in the outcome. his fondness for women was not reciprocated and he found himself charged with involvement with mass rape again before a prisoner exchange saw him released. This time, he fled to Germany. Confronted with the abundance of young beautiful blonde women in front of him, it was not long before he got in trouble again and for the third time ended up in prison for rape. He was able to learn some German, and grew close to a German ex-soldier in prison, bonding over a disturbing propensity towards violence and sex with the weaker male inmates. His friend got out first and used his old military contacts to join a mercenary force in Yemen. When Jamal was released and deported, he was recommended by his German friend to join the force in Yemen.

Jamal and his German friend fitted in well in the Yemeni civil war, and joined Ahmed and Pembroke in committing effective atrocities.

An IED blast killed Jamal’s German friend, and blew off half of Jamal’s face including most of his lower jaw and left ear and eye. The rest of his huge body functioned well, and Pembroke had witnessed him murder several people in a rage after the attack.

A simple man, with no family ties, he only had a voracious sexual appetite and a faithful nature. Pembroke had thought of him as a perfect security man and managed to locate him with Ahmed’s help.

He really was hideous and frightening-looking, and Pembroke smiled at the thought of what the girls might make of him.

He brought out his own captive. Layla Al-Haraz had suffered a hard life. She had been beautiful, once, but an acid attack from a jealous rival at just 15 had scarred her for life. Raised in the Yemeni countryside she had known nothing but misery and deprivation while her friends got married. She had finally got pregnant by another man and bore him a son. But the man’s first wife’s jealous family conspired and burned her alive, killing her infant son and scarring her even further.

She had festered, alone, in misery for years until the Yemeni civil war came to her village. She had betrayed her own villagefolk for sheltering rebels leading to a massacre in which she had begged to be allowed to join in. A few months later, the rebels issued a warrant for her arrest as the area came back under their control and she fled to the capital. Life on the streets as a prostitute was not easy for such a deformed woman, and she was unable to bribe the police enough money to be left out of a prison round-up.

In his downtime, Pembroke had enjoyed visiting the women’s prison in Sanaa and taking his pick of the women there. Layla had fascinated him. Her burned, scarred head had half the hair burnt off, and her left eye socket was almost completely bare, like a witch. She terrified the other girls. He had enjoyed raping her in the prison, and unlike the other men who paid to use her, enjoyed looking at her horrific face as he fucked her.

She was bitter, resentful, and racist but still had a beautiful body. Using his contact with Ahmed, he had arranged for her to be extradited from Yemen to Azmaria on some trumped-up charge, and then to be collected by Jamal and taken straight to his complex in southern Turkey.

She was trussed up like a turkey, and froze with hatred when she saw Pembroke again. Pembroke smiled and spoke in Arabic to both of them.

“We meet again, my friends. This time we will have a very interesting project.”

Jamal was entrusted with security and could come and go. For now, his only prisoner was Layla, who at thirty-five still had her excellent figure. They made a terrifying-looking couple, Jamal the burly giant with his lower jaw and eye blown off, and Leyla with the side of her head covered in red scales but with both eyes shining out with malevolence, her black hair only growing on one side of her head.

While Layla was held in one small cell, Jamal began building up the security needed to hold seven high-value prisoners. Layla cursed them both as she was raped repeatedly within hours of her new incarceration. Pembroke smiled as he thought of how she would soon be able to direct her bile and aggression on some innocent and haughty young ladies for his benefit.
As Camille Leclerc gracefully glided down the bustling streets of Marseille on her rollerblades, she effortlessly drew admiring glances from passers by. Her fiery red hair caught the sunlight, casting a radiant glow around her, while her striking green eyes sparkled with vitality and curiosity. At just nineteen years old, she possessed a rare combination of youthful exuberance and timeless elegance that captivated all who beheld her.

Born into a family rooted in the pursuit of social justice, Camille’s upbringing was shaped by her father, a distinguished human rights lawyer practicing at the UN criminal court in Paris. From an early age, she was inspired by his unwavering commitment to defending the vulnerable and marginalized, a passion that would later influence her own aspirations.

Camille’s journey into the world of rhythmic gymnastics began at a tender age, driven by a natural inclination towards grace and movement. With dedicated training and unwavering determination, she made the French Olympic team. Standing at five feet five, she possessed a lithe yet powerful physique, perfectly suited to the demands of her sport.

But Camille’s interests extended far beyond the confines of the gymnastics arena. A true Renaissance spirit, she had already become a talented filmmaker, benefiting from her adoring father’s funds. she was passionate about filmmaking. Drawn to the power of storytelling, she envisioned a future where she could use her creative talents to shed light on pressing social issues and advocate for positive change.

Her smooth white legs effortlessly swayed through the streets of Marseille, meeting in a small tight pair of denim shorts offset by a loose top exposing her bra top underneath. She sucked on a lollipop as she moved as if to taunt the male onlookers leering at her.

Camille enjoyed the attention, but really her mind was buzzing with ideas for her next short movie. With each graceful turn and twist, she imagined the scenes unfolding before her, weaving together narratives of hope, resilience, and the enduring human spirit.

Edward Pembroke marveled as this teenage vision approached him, moving at high speed and then effortlessly stopping at the restaurant table by the seafront. Nonchalantly, she glided to his table, a smile gracing her lips.

“Karim Al-Faraj, I presume?” she asked in French.

“Ah, Camille,” grinned Edward Pembroke. “You recognized me!”

“Well, Karim, can I call you that? No offense, but you do look like a man who is interested in making a movie about gay Algerian ballet dancers!” Camille smiled, her dimples breaking out, her pearly white teeth gleaming against her pale skin, her green eyes shining, and her red hair adding a fiery contrast.

“Haha, guilty as charged,” Pembroke, or Karim, replied, his outfit as vibrant as his personality, with a flamboyant scarf and a bright pink shirt, exuding a distinctly theatrical and stylish flair.

The two happily made small talk, as Karim complimented her outfit and moves. His obvious homosexuality made Camille feel at ease, this man was no sexual threat to her!

Camille confidently took the next step, to talk business. She had been thrilled to hear he was eager to fund and work with her on a short movie having been impressed by her work. “Karim, your idea for a short movie about gay Algerian ballet dancers is brilliant. I’m really passionate about using film to address social issues. I want to help any way I can.”

Originally,” Karim began, his voice taking on a serious tone, “I had a very specific vision for the film. But your work on deconstructing French colonialism in modern Algerian cinema … well, it blew me away. That’s when I knew I wanted you to work on this with me.”

Camille’s heart warmed. “Karim, I deeply respect your heritage. I’m truly sorry for the way France has treated Algeria in the past. It’s a disgrace the way Algerians are treated here in France. It’s horrible how people think all Arabs are sexist towards white women when every Arab I have met has been a gentleman. White people really need to atone for…”

Karim chuckled, a warm, rumbling sound. “Camille, the past is the past. We’re focused on the future, on telling a story that resonates with today’s Algeria.”

“Well…” said Camille “I defer to you. I would just be the director. Do you have an idea for the actors? I know several dancers, and they are all gay!”

“Yes, I know a few…” smiled Karim. He also smiled inwardly at the realization that beneath her confident tone, Camille was a fool. She had fallen for his ‘script’ that he had lifted from an Algerian drama group online, eager to tick all the boxes of anti-racism and anti-homophobia to advance her movie-making career. A career which, he suspected, depended not on her lackluster skills and uninspired films, but rather on her daddy’s money.

“Camille, your enthusiasm is truly infectious,” Karim said, his smile never wavering. “I cannot wait to get started!”

One thing which Pembroke could not disagree with was that Camille was an excellent acrobat. It was a skill he would have to develop further in training, for the benefit of the Crown Prince. This silly airheaded girl should learn that her body was all that matters and not her stupid notions of art and culture.

Camille rolled away on her blades soon afterwards, giving Karim a cheeky farewell wink as he was able to admire her perfect body gliding away. Pembroke wondered what work her human rights lawyer of a father had done which had annoyed the Crown Prince so much. He could not wait to see her again.

Pembroke had been enjoying the French Riviera for the last few days, like so much of his sojourn around Europe since accepting Ahmed’s deal. He soon lost the gay persona of Karim and was Edward Pembroke, in a a casino in downtown Marseille, gambling at blackjack, drinking and leering at waitresses.

“Monsiour Pembroke? Or should I say, Monsieur Eduard Benaïssad?”

Pembroke suddenly sobered up and whipped around. It was Ahmed Al-Masri, his boss.

“Ahmed! I did not expect you here, I suppose this is not a coincidence.” Pembroke tried to appear professional but knew it must look like he was fooling around with the Azmarian Royal Family’s money.

“As a matter of fact, I am here on business. There are some troublesome dissidents who are based in France. One of them fell out of a window yesterday, and tomorrow one is going to drown in the sea.”

“Well, you will be pleased to know, that I am on track” smiled Pembroke.

“Really? It seems to me all you’ve done is fuck around Europe on our money. You’ve met most of these girls, and for what?” Ahmed was getting annoyed. “His Excellency is getting impatient. Another girl died recently. It was, I was assured, a tragic accident during a sex game gone wrong. Well, it’s a shame, a waste of a beautiful young Eritrean girl who is now shark food in the Red Sea. Foreign governments are starting to get more concerned about their young pretty citizens disappearing while working in our state, so it’s getting harder to get replacements fast enough.”

“You’d think he would just hand them down, like second-hand clothes. Very selfish of him” replied Pembroke nonchalantly.

“No. Once these girls enter the harem, the only way out is as a corpse soon to be disposed of. And it’s the same with these girls, including that Camille LeClerc.” Ahmed continued, grimly. “I hope for their sake they impress him or they will not last long. And for our sake, a happy Crown Prince means better political prospects for me!” Ahmed seemed lost in his own dreams.

“But” he interrupted his own reverie “the old man is getting impatient, he doesn’t understand the … intricacies of taking these high-value females. He seems to think we can just snatch the girls at gunpoint and bring them to him!”

“Well, if that were the case, every man would have his own female slave “ laughed Pembroke.

“But he has a point. When can we expect results? Have you made any procurements yet?”

“No, I am very close though. Collections will start soon, and training can soon commence. I can guarantee these girls are going to make the Crown Prince very happy in his old age.”

“I hope so, for your sake, Eddie.”

Pembroke wondered how he could impress Ahmed he was making progress. “Look, Ahmed, I can show you something, tomorrow morning. Why don’t you join me tonight for some debauchery?”

Ahmed smiled tightly. “Tomorrow morning? OK, I can wait till then. And I suppose we can have some fun tonight. Remember I am on business so it should be above board, let’s go to a strip club then get some hookers.”

“That’s the spirit” smiled Pembroke.

The following morning, Pembroke and Ahmed were walking along the sea harbour of Marseille. They reached a yacht, only just pulled in, the ‘Zephyr’. Ahmed recognised it, it had been known under a different name a few weeks ago when it had been loaned out to Pembroke for his scheme.

“I would like you to meet a great sailor. Kwame Okor, from the streets of Lagos. He came to Europe years ago, worked on the tourist boats, then the yachts, and then on the boats smuggling cocaine from Nigeria to Spain. Very talented sailor.”

“How did you hear of him?” Ahmed was suspicious, he did not like more new characters.

“Well, in my old line of work, I knew quite a few guys who went into drug running. They all had good words to say about Kwame’s sailing ability. But my old mates, well, they do have some qualms, and it seems old Kwame has a thing about young girls, very young girls, and he spent a few years inside in Italy for something very unpleasant.”

Ahmed sighed. He did get a thrill from the underworld dealings his job required, but he was a little exasperated at how Eddie seemed to seamlessly attract and swim in a sea of degeneracy.

“Anyway, when I found out he owed a drug debt to a Nigerian cartel in Lagos, that they were threatening his wife and family back there, and that his shipmates were going to throw him overboard after his next drug smuggling trip, I asked to take him on. Told them it’s a shame to waste a good sailor.”

“I hope you haven’t been telling more people about this, Eddie.”

“Don’t worry, Ahmed, they just think I’m smuggling girls or drugs from North Africa. Kwame doesn’t know how close he was to being shark food but he does know only I can pay off his debt and his family is still under threat. And he seems to be a completely immoral pervert, so I think he can do a job here.”

Pembroke paused and conspiratorally whispered. “And don’t worry, he will end up at the bottom of the sea once I’ve finished with his services. He is, after all, a nasty pervert haha!” Pembroke giggled at the irony while Ahmed grimaced.

Kwame greeted them at the yacht, smiling at his new boss, Edward Pembroke, who he had last seen ten days ago in Glasgow as he had set sail. “Permission to come aboard” laughed Pembroke as Kwame waved them both aboard.

Ahmed inspected the yacht, wincing at the state of it. Kwame was short but squat, about fifty but looking very fit and wiry.

Kwame grinned as he regaled them about his days at sea. “I had a fun time, sir, haha!”

Pembroke grinned and motioned Ahmed to come down below deck. Under a hidden compartment, Pembroke opened a horizontal door, and in the darkness underneath, a thing stirred under the Mediterranean sun.

Ahmed was struck by the smell. He coughed and nearly threw up. In the tiny compartment, was a naked woman, tied up and gagged.

“I hope you have enjoyed her, Kwame!” Pembroke was pleased to see that Rebecca Parker looked like she had barely been allowed out on deck at all. Kwame seemed sensible and able to handle women in captivity.

“Yes sir” Kwame grinned, his huge mouth showing his pearly teeth. “I fucked her hard. The only food she has eaten are some apples and my cum!”

Pembroke gazed down at the face of Rebecca Parker. She was sweating, dirty, and shaking. She was squinting, having barely seen the sun for the whole voyage. She had been kept in her own filth, and Kwame had not seemed to mind, as he had plainly only briefly taken her out to stick his cock into.

She had lost a little weight, which was good. Her face showed pure terror, her gagged mouth hiding that she desperately wanted to say something, but Pembroke failed to see why he should listen to it.

“I hope this is not one of the Prince’s slaves” Ahmed scorned, looking down at the frightened blonde woman.

“Oh, goodness no! I would never dream of presenting this old bitch to such a respected figure! No, she will be there to guide the young ladies from their previously gilded, free life, to that of a humble sex slave. It won’t be as fun as it sounds!” Pembroke laughed as he saw that Rebecca had a new black eye, and a slight bump on her nose.

“Kwame, have you been given cause to discipline Mrs Parker?” he asked the Nigerian, working at the controls to test all was well.

“Oh yes, Sir, she struggled with my cock in her mouth, it’s quite big, I felt teeth a bit too much for my liking so I had to slap her around a bit. I hope you don’t mind?”

“Oh no, on the contrary, my dear fellow” Pembroke chimed back “It’s good to see men taking control. The young ladies must know that men have to be obeyed at all times, and their supervisor is still just a woman to be smacked about if any man so wants. However, Kwame, I do ask that you be a little more delicate with the young ladies, they are precious, like china, and we do not want to be handing over broken goods to the end user.”

“Yeah I got you!” smiled Kwame. “Keeping the virgins, that’s OK, but I know plenty of ways to scare a girl without touching her!”

“That’s the spirit” cheered Pembroke. “Any time your cock needs an outlet, there will be Mrs Parker, and another Arab lady at our final destination.”

Ahmed was intrigued. “How will this woman train them?”

“She herself is a bit of a dirty slut, and she worked as a teacher, so she should have some experience. It’s always good to have a matronly figure. But Mrs Parker had better remember…” Pembroke crouched down to get close to the figure still lying below them “her job is to make sure these young ladies are utterly depraved and broken. There are ways in which Mrs Parker had her two young children could be hurt if she does not live up to her duties!

Rebecca sighed in agony. She did not know where she was, all she knew was that she had been tortured and raped over the last ten days, seasick, and kept in this compartment in the dark and had to lie in her own shit, piss, and vomit. It had not discouraged the odious man, Kwame, from raping her every now and then. His cock had been huge, nine inches and thick. She was still dreading reaching her final destination, whatever kind of hell that would be.

As Ahmed and Pembroke strolled away, Pembroke reassured him. “Don’t worry, the woman and Kwame will be dead soon. And soon the collections will commence!
Sailing off on the ‘Zephyr’ made Edward Pembroke feel like a true man of the sea. He let Kwame handle the sailing and spent his days admiring the stunning Mediterranean vistas. With the wind in his hair, the sun on his back, and the saltwater in his nostrils, he relished the freedom and adventure. Although he had enjoyed the playboy lifestyle, he was acutely aware that he was living on borrowed money and borrowed time.

As he spent his time formulating his nefarious plans, Pembroke couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement. He hoped that this venture, if successful, would secure him a permanent position as a procurer for the Crown Prince. The prospect of such a life—filled with travel, wealth, and beautiful girls-thrilled him. The knowledge that it would be made on the lives and heartbreak of countless innocent people did not even register with him.

The night, it became cold and stormy. He retreated into the cabin. Kwame was not put off by the weather, and had hauled Rebecca out of her compartment, and was fucking her over the side of the yacht railings. Rebecca was terrified, staring down at the dark stormy waters, she thought she might fall in, while the Nigerian’s massive cock pumped inside her. He grabbed roughly at her breasts, and bit into her upper back, lustily rewarding himself for a hard few hours navigating in the darkness.

“Please, please, I cannot … please just let me be…” screamed Rebecca, she was sore and tired, hungry and cold and her insides were not getting any chance to repair themselves from his constant fucking of her.

Kwame ignored her pleas but suddenly heard something else. It was shouts and screams, but from another boat, out in the darkness.

Kwame quickly pulled out of Rebecca, and pulled back her hair, and threw her onto the deckfloor. Putting his huge dick away, he cuffed and gagged the blonde woman, dragged her back to the little compartment, and threw her inside unceremoniously. She banged her head and was almost upside down, but Kwame did not care, he was terrified this might be the coastguard.

“Sir!” Kwame shouted. “There is a boat approaching!”

Pembroke and Kwame rushed out to see what was happening. They peered through the darkness with binoculars. It wasn’t a boat but a large, flimsy dinghy, and it was sinking, clearly in trouble.

The dinghy was overcrowded with refugees, growing panicky as the weather worsened. They had sent a distress call to a charity rescue boat, which had messaged back saying they would arrive in two hours. When they saw the ‘Zephyr,’ they were delighted and assumed it was the rescue boat arriving early.

Abdul Majid, the de facto captain of the flimsy vessel, was growing scared but did not want to worry the dozen or so passengers. He was relieved to see the boat and messaged the rescue boat he had been in contact with earlier, but got no response. He assumed the arriving boat was the rescue vessel and that they must be out on deck, ignoring their radio.

Abdul might have wanted to verify that this was the rescue boat they had messaged earlier, but right now, he did not care. He had to get his passengers out of the sinking dinghy and to safety! All the passengers were waving and shouting, desperate for help in the darkness.

“Ah, it’s just some refugees, let’s ignore them” Kwame was relieved. His libido returned and he suddenly wanted to pass this vessel so he could get Rebecca back on deck to finish off inside her.

“Not so fast, Kwame.” Pembroke was looking carefully through his binoculars at the passengers. “One should always be compassionate and look out for one’s fellow man. Perhaps we should take a closer look.”

Fatima El-Tayeb was terrified and freezing. She had made the rash decision to leave Libya 48 hours ago in the vessel with her husband, Farouk, and her 18-month-old baby. Libya offered nothing for them, and they had long dreamt of making a new life in Europe. She was only twenty years old, beautiful but modest. In the stormy weather, she could not hide her face or her figure under her life belt, as she and her fellow passengers were soaked from the spray of the sea and the waves. She screamed along with the others in utter terror, feeling scared for her infant daughter whom she clasped to her bosom. It was cold, and the water felt like a knife just touching her. She did not want to know what it would be like to be in the water, but the vessel seemed to be sinking lower and lower, and there had been no sign of this rescue boat.

Her cousin, Zara, was beside her. Just eighteen, and as beautiful as Fatima, she held on to her cousin, utterly petrified.

Like the others, they screamed for help from the boat passing nearby. It seemed like an oasis of comfort in this harsh, unforgiving sea. They could see two figures on deck. “Please help us, for God’s sake!” they screamed. Fatima’s husband was almost crying with relief. “We are saved!”

“Are there any boats in the vicinity, can you check?” asked Pembroke. “No, sir, not anywhere close by.”

“And how long before we reach Karataş?”

“Should be by tomorrow night, sir.”

Pembroke took another look at the frightened but beautiful face of the young girl holding the baby. The baby seemed at first an inconvenience but to a man like Pembroke, any problem could be turned to a solution. The girl next to her had no children and looked just as stunning.

Pembroke asked Kwame a few other questions. Kwame smiled and nodded. “Trust me, sir, I can show you what I can do!”

“Let’s have a little fun shall we” smiled Pembroke with an evil flint.

He took out the loudspeaker and called out to the vessel. “We can take you aboard, and take you to Cyprus. But you must swim over to our boat, and climb up the ladder. If you stay on the boat, we cannot accept you, and your asylum claim cannot be processed!”

The passengers were perplexed but the captain, Abdul, understood. Under the rules of the sea, if they willingly got on the rescue ship from a safe vessel, they might be refused entry to Cyprus and never allowed back to Europe. They had to go through the charade of ‘abandoning ship’ to assist their asylum claims.

The dinghy vessel pulled up alongside the Zephyr. Abdul tried to contact the rescue ship again and took a photo of the Zephry for future checking, but could get no signal in this weather in such a deserted place.

Kwame swiftly threw a rope around a loop on the dinghy, preparing it to be towed.

“I don’t understand, why do we have to swim to the boat!” Fatima was furious. Even with life jackets, neither she nor the passengers could swim.

“Don’t worry, the life jackets will keep you afloat. It’s just a matter of being in the water for no more than three minutes. That’s all it will take for us to get up that ladder!” replied her husband.

The clean Zephyr looked so inviting to the desperate passengers.

“Women and children first!” shouted Pembroke through the loudspeaker, eyeing the frightened young women among the group of men. They looked so vulnerable when they were frightened, he thought. It was the kind of vulnerability he relished the most.

A mini jacket was put on Fatima’s daughter, and her husband kissed them both. All passengers then all got into the water together and swam the few meters towards the yacht and the slim ladder leading up to the deck.

Zara was first, and Pembroke watched with pleasure as she climbed up the ladder, her soaking wet clothes clinging to her figure.

“You are safe now, my lady” Pembroke spoke in Arabic, and Kwame gave Zara a blanket and directed her towards a small bench on the other side of the yacht.

Farouk watched, still freezing in the water, as his wife Fatima ventured up the ladder, holding their daughter.

“There, there, we have you now!” Pembroke spoke to her in Arabic, smiling. The young woman was shivering and soaking, crying with relief now that she and her child were safe.

Farouk shouted up. “I will come now.”

Pembroke had to act quickly. As Farouk was close to the top of the yacht about to hop onto the deck, he smiled with happiness, seeing his young wife safe and sound with his daughter on a small bench. He was freezing, but now they were safe! He turned and looked at their savior, the face of Edward Pembroke. Pembroke smiled at him and offered a hand.

“Thank you, Sir! You saved us!” Farouk held his hand up to take Pembroke’s, but Pembroke’s face suddenly fell away, replaced by the open sky. With horror, Farouk realized the ladder had come away from the side of the yacht.

“What?” shouted Farouk in confusion, and suddenly he fell back into the cold water.

The others in the water panicked. The ladder had broken, and there was no other way to get up! Abdul’s teeth were chattering. He trusted the ship’s crew to be able to get them a rope or something.

But instead, the engine started on the boat. With horror, Abdul and the others watched as it motored away. Farouk and others swam desperately to the side, banging on the side, but there was no way to climb up.

Realizing what was happening, Abdul swam desperately back to the dinghy but was horrified to see that the rope attaching the “rescue boat” to the dinghy was now towing it away with it!

Fatima and Zara did not understand what was happening. The black man had disappeared to pilot the boat, and the man who had been their rescuer now approached them, amidst the background noise of the engine and screams and shouts from the sea. He produced a gun.

Abdul, Farouk and the others in the water waved and screamed, not understanding what had happened. The boat and the dinghy vessel were soon out of sight and the engine noise dissipated among the howls and waves of the sea. The men called to each other, afloat in their life jackets, and desperately tried to come up with a solution.

But there was none. Their phones were all soaked or gone. They could only try and stay alive and afloat and hope that another boat might see them. But the water was very, very cold, and the cries of the men gradually grew quiet. Finally, Abdul called out and realized he was alone. He was still afloat, but the cold of the Mediterranean soon claimed him.

The dinghy vessel was abandoned a few miles away by the Zephyr. Pembroke calculated that the men would not last long in the water. They would be floating corpses by daybreak, if not sunk. It would be just another tragic loss of life among desperate refugees fleeing for a new life. No one would realize that there had been three survivors.

Pembroke smiled behind dark glasses at the two terrified and devastated young women, who had witnessed their menfolk being abandoned to a horrifying death and were now bound, gagged, and naked, entirely at the mercy of these two sick monsters. Fatima only prayed that they would have some mercy on her infant daughter, lying in a makeshift cot in the pilot cabin.

As the two Swedish sisters, Elin and Freja Johansen, engaged in online conversation with Edward Pembroke, they couldn’t help but giggle at the adorable scene unfolding. Edward, with his hippy appearance and passionate activism, sat with his infant daughter, Heather, on his lap. Heather, a bundle of energy and curiosity, awkwardly played and crawled around him, occasionally reaching up to grab onto his T-shirt or tug at his floppy black hair.

The sight of Edward interacting with the toddler, balancing his role as a dedicated activist with that of a loving father, melted the hearts of Elin and Freja. They exchanged smiles as they watched Heather’s playful antics, charmed by the genuine affection and warmth in Edward’s interactions with his daughter.

“I think it’s great that you can care for your daughter, your wife is so lucky!” Elin, the seventeen-year-old eldest sister, expressed, her admiration evident in her words. As a proud proponent of women’s rights, she found Edward Pembroke’s support of his wife’s full-time career as a doctor incredibly inspiring. His dedication to both his family and his activism resonated deeply with Elin and Freja.

Edward Pembroke’s social media account, previously owned by a disillusioned hippy, portrayed him as an idealist with connections to all major left-wing organizations.

Idealism resonated deeply with Elin and Freja, igniting a fervent desire to enact positive change in the world and earn the admiration of their parents, Ronald and Maria Johansen—renowned left-wing activists and environmental scientists. The Johansen family had faced significant challenges in their activist pursuits, including financial struggles and backlash from an Azmarian oil company after exposing their illegal labor practices and environmental degradation.

Ronald and Maria wanted to shield their children from the hardships they themselves had endured. They encouraged Elin and Freja to fight for change from within and, as such, sent them both to the best schools while teaching them the value of kindness and compassion.

Edward Pembroke chuckled as cuddled Heather while trying to discuss the forthcoming protests against the military naval parades off the coast of Sweden in the next few weeks. He was looking forward to being there, but he was disappointed that Elin and Freja’s parents would not be.

“You really should get your parents’ permission, girls. I’m not sure this is that safe. I mean, I will be going, but the police might be heavy-handed, and it’s risky to take the boat out there.”

“Oh, we will be fine. We don’t want to involve our parents; they are so frightened for us!” Elin replied.

“Haha, you remind me of me at your age! I hope Heather grows up to have your spirit!”

Elin and Freja enjoyed a few more moments watching the doting father interact with his gurgling, smiling infant daughter before they logged off. Freja, fifteen years old, felt more determined than ever.

“I know Mum and Dad won’t let us, but I know they’d be proud! We have to do this!” she declared passionately.

Elin smiled at her sister. “Oh Freja, I guess I will have to come to look after you then!”

The two girls giggled and excitedly chattered about the upcoming protest. They were passionate about the cause, believing the ugliness of the NATO war machine should not be tolerated in their hometown. They were thrilled to join an online group planning to disrupt the naval parade.

Edward Pembroke turned off his laptop, and his playful expression vanished. Suddenly, ‘Heather’ or rather Ayesha, was not so fun anymore. He got up and swept back his hair, took off his fake glasses, and swept Ayesha up in his arms. The small room had been made up to look like an average spare bedroom of a busy activist needing to look after his daughter and get in touch with his online acolytes. It was very different from the rest of the complex Edward Pembroke was currently in.

He carried Aisha in his arms, the young toddler oblivious to the very odd surroundings, clinging to Pembroke like he was her real daddy. Pembroke was thinking of the two blonde Swedish teenage sisters, their long lithe bodies, and how he wanted them here, soon.

The child smiled again as Pembroke entered into a further hall and a large spacious gym room. She had recognized her mother, although she was looking … a little different.

Fatima and Zara Al Al-Tayeb were naked. Their hands were tied behind their backs, and their ankles were cuffed and connected with elasticated cord which restricted their movement and prevented them from kicking or raising their feet. They were each gagged with large ball gags which stretched their mouths obscenely.

As they stood, Pembroke noted with pleasure the subtle distinctions between the cousins. Both were about five feet five, Fatima had a voluptuous figure with generous curves in all the right places. Her breasts were full and round, with nipples that hardened at the slightest touch. Her hips swayed with discomfort drawing attention to her softly rounded stomach and toned thighs.

Zara, on the other hand, had a leaner physique. Her breasts were smaller but perky, accentuated by dark nipples that stood out against her pale skin. The contrast between her smooth stomach and muscular legs was striking, making it clear the eighteen-year-old enjoyed regular exercise.

Both girls were in tears, Fatima in particular was sobbing, watching Pembroke hold her daughter.

Behind them, stood Rebecca Parker and Layla Al-Haraz. Rebecca was clad in a black PVC mini dress, low cut displaying her buxom tits with black pump high heels. She wore stockings held up by suspenders and Pembroke was eager to know what she was wearing underneath. She had ruby red lipstick and black mascara to complete the slutty look, her blonde hair and blue eyes a contrast to the dark Al-Tayeb girls and her companion beside her.

Layla was, to say the least, a striking figure. Half of her face was marred by a landscape of scar tissue and burnt skin. The scars were jagged and deep, giving her a fierce, almost robotic appearance, particularly around her left eye, which was completely encircled by the damaged tissue.

The right side of Layla’s face retained its natural beauty and her light chocolate Yemeni complexion.

Her black hair cascaded down the beautiful side of her face, while on the other, there was just the reddened tissue where the hair should be. Her lips were maroon, and in contrast to Rebecca, her sparkling black eyes and wicked grin showed she was enjoying this. She had long given up on any hope of an ordinary life, and this brutal prison was a step up from prison in Yemen.

Layla was wearing a pair of black PVC hotpants and a black PVC bra top with black boots on high heels. She was slim and petite, but her angry spirit raised her above her five feet three figure and Pembroke was in no doubt who would be the overseer of Rebecca and, by extension, the other girls.

Layla was looking at the naked girls from behind, admiring their form, their cute firm buttocks, wobbling slightly with their sobs. Through their bound arms, Layala noted with satisfaction the thin red lines caused by her cane. She had taken on her role as overseer with gusto and had beaten both girls when they had refused to lick her own pussy.

Rebecca had cried when she witnessed Layla beating the crying girls, flinching from their being forced to perform unwillingly on the snarling little Yemeni woman. Rebecca felt even worse when she realised that she would soon be forcing these girls to perform on her and that she would have to hit them as well.

Zara and Fatima had just had the worst week in the world, and there was no indication things were going to get better.

They had been handcuffed by Kwame and Pembroke on the boat, while little Ayesha was kept in the cabin they were forced into the compartment with a terrified, hungry, dirty, naked gagged, and bound blonde woman. The three were forced to cramp beside each other, for nearly 2 days before they arrived at their destination, Karataş.

All three females had been tightly bound and gagged and packed into a large holdall. Kwame and Pembroke wheeled it off onto the quay where no customs official bothered to check. Jamal was waiting with a lorry.

Pembroke later dealt with the immigration after the officials bothered to turn up, and he, Kwame and Jamal enjoyed an hour-long truck journey with the three females whimpering in pain inside the holdall in the back.

They had arrived at the dusty compound, past barbed wire fences, into some large hangars inside which were further container buildings, some of which looked like they may have been meat abattoirs.

Pembroke had felt nervous about having only Jamal and Kwame as any kind of external security detail here. He only hoped the compound looked so worthless to outsiders that no one would bother robbing it, and it did have tight security. If they got in past the perimeter, it would just look like half-used storage space, with relatively worthless cases of printing paper and used batteries being the only thing of value to steal.

The pretty Libyan cousins had not yet been fully raped, but had been molested by the men and Layla. Both had been forced to suck the cocks of Kwame and Jamal. Zara had been a virgin and Fatima had only seen her husband naked, and this had been a traumatic turn of events for them.

Using a laser, the girls had been denuded of all body hair. Pembroke’s rule was that all his females, including Rebecca and Layla, would undergo this.

Pembroke surveyed the scene with pride. Just a few weeks ago, this complex had been deserted. The two Arab girls were living in Tripoli with their families. Rebecca in northern England and Layla in a Yemeni prison. Now all four were in front of him, his prisoners.

Fatima’s eyes remained fixed on the child in Pembroke’s arms, Ayesha. She thought of her husband, and the poor passengers, drowning or freezing to death in the sea. Zara thought of her family, she had known friends and an uncle on the boat, all dead now. She wondered if their fate was any better, the perverted men and women, even the terrified English woman with whom they could barely talk, and the remote prison lacking any natural sunlight, had been hell for the last few days. The little Yemeni woman had leered at them like an unleashed tiger, hitting them, mauling them, and forcing them to do the most disgusting things, that had made her throw up just remembering them. Neither of the girls could imagine that things would get any better.

Little Ayesha gurgled “mama” and reached a little hand out to her naked bound mother. “Please! Have some humanity!” pleaded Fatima.

“SILENCE” it was Leyla, who commanded her. She and Rebecca had been told in no uncertain terms that the girls would have to behave, and if they did not, it would be seen as a reason to punish their overseers. Leyla did not mind, she loved finally having some control over another human being, in this case, the two pretty Libyans, the kind who turned men’s heads. She had been robbed of her own beauty, put down and mocked, and was now finally to express the jealousy and anger bubbling up inside.

“Thank you Mrs AL-Haraz!” Pembroke gave a pointed look to Rebecca, as if to remind her that she too should be reprimanding the girls. Rebecca had been reminded of this constantly, and although she had not understood what Fatima had said (though could easily imagine the kind of plea the girls might be making) she knew the command “Samat” – silence, whenever the girls spoke out of turn.

“Now ladies. I see you have been beaten well, I can only imagine that you have not been very compliant during training, which is to be expected. This is a steep learning curve!

“Now, I have been busy since bringing you here, and I know the emotional turmoil of being kidnapped and seeing your family members drown will probably have affected your minds. You females are not the most logical gender at the best of times!” Pembroke smiled, as he evilly stroked Ayesha’s nose, knowing how heart-wrenching it must be for Fatima to watch.

“But now I think it is time to give you a full introduction. As you know, I am Edward Pembroke, procurer of beautiful female flesh for the wealthy and well-connected. And you two are my first items for sale. You should consider yourself honoured! From a boat of desperate people, I saw your potential, and thought to myself, some rich man will want to fuck that, so here you are!”

Pembroke giggled at the absurdity of it all but checked himself. He had an air of his own importance now. “You see, we live in a world where a few have everything they always wanted. But they can’t fuck anyone they want. Of course, if you are a billionaire you will never be short of beautiful women throwing themselves at you, as well as prostitutes of varying legality. But the price the rich pay is that world is very, how shall we say, “rules based.” Hundreds of years ago, Genghis Khan could rape any woman he wanted. Now, the billionaire cannot lift up his secretary’s skirt without getting arrested!”

Pembroke seemed personally affronted by this. He and his two male accomplices had faced the force of the law in forcing themselves on females.

“What all these rich men want, is not yachts or mansions, or even beautiful wives or prostitutes. They want to own someone. What greater power is there, than to own a human being, a slave, to end their life when you want, to use them for anything, as an object. That is a dream.”

Pembroke looked at the two girls, shaking and frightened.

“You will be my pieces of flesh and I will get a good price for you. You will be trained to do anything that a wealthy man will want. It won’t be serving plates, fixing appliances, flying private jets or looking after his children. It will be sucking his cock, licking his feet, shaving his ass, being whipped and beaten just to relieve him from stress, and providing him with the kind of sexual ecstasy that money cannot buy from a free woman. Yes, you will be the first of my perfect female slaves.”

Pembroke surprised himself and reminded himself he must give this speech to every girl he kidnaps.

Mrs Al-Haraz smiled, she knew she was too ugly and scarred to be one of these slaves, but would enjoy molding them into one. She was starting to think she may finally have a purpose in life outside of rotting in prison or begging on the street. Rebecca understood no words but was alarmed at the growing whimpers of the girls.

“Now, part of my operation is procurement, that is taking girls. As you can see, that has been done. No one will find you, some bodies have been recovered from your wretched dinghy, but most are still missing, including yours. And that was with no planning, just pure opportunism” Pembroke grinned.

“The next part will be providing girls who do what they are told. Obedience. That will be beaten into you. I don’t care how long it takes. There are an infinite number of ways in which to torture someone, to make them do things they do not want to do. Are either of you lesbians?”

The girls just shook their heads, looking at the ground.

“Mrs Al-Haraz, did these ladies lick your pussy?”

“Yes Master” Mrs Leyla Al-Haraz proudly stood to attention. “I had to beat them both, but found threatening one of them was enough to make the other lick me, they are very good Master!”

“Thank you Mrs Al-Haraz!” Pembroke smiled then looked at Rebecca. “Mrs Parker, have these girls served you at all?”

“Oh … sorry … I was not getting the Arabic, what do you mean?”

Pembroke smiled tersely. “Have any of these bitches licked you out yet, have you kissed them or touched them up?”

“No … no…”

“No what?” Pembroke quipped back.

“No Master.”

“And why not? They are young, they are beautiful. They must get used to sex, a lot of it. They will be forced to have sex with each other, with other women, men. You are not here to watch or to clean. Mrs Al-Haraz here got them to perform for her, I expect you to do the same.”

“But, Master, if they don’t…”

“Then you beat them!” Pembroke was getting annoyed. “Look to Mrs Al-Haraz as your exemplar. Now, It is unfortunate that I have to reprimand you in front of the slave girls, or should I say, the products. You are in charge of them. That means you force them. You are bisexual are you not?”

“Yes … yes Master”

“Then force these beautiful girls to have sex with you. Hell, eat them out yourself. I don’t want to have to order you, otherwise, what is the point in me keeping you around? You are not useful as a product, you are here to train young ladies in the acts of debauchery.”

“Yes, Master, sorry Master.”

“Now, Mrs Parker, I am rooting for you. Not least because you were my first transport and I have sailed you hundreds of miles to get you here. You are quite beautiful. But if you don’t measure up, well, we have a bone saw, and a furnace to dispose of you.”

“Sorry, sorry Master I will improve!” Rebecca, or Mrs Parker, was shaking with fear now. She was not aggressive, she did not want to hurt these girls or force them to have lesbian sex with her, but her life was on the line.

“Now, I am going to explain in Arabic to these girls the same thing. My ethos will be obedience, enforced with direct punishment including severe pain. However, I will also be using your family against you. You have two children, parents, who you still love, despite your problems back home. I do not want to have to do it, because for one thing, I resent having to go back to your little shit hole of a town when I have so many other things to do, but in order to keep up discipline, not just for you but for the other girls, I will take action against your family, before I dispose of you. I am sorry, but you will need to die knowing that your family has been harmed, and more importantly, the other girls will know it too. It is for the good of the whole enterprise. So, please, step up and do your part!”

Mrs Parker’s blood ran cold as she heard the threats to her family again. Her only option was to be a cruel pervert to these poor girls. Unlike Mrs Al-Haraz, she could not embrace this, she would just have to force herself, making every day a living hell. She wondered if she killed herself accidentally somehow, it might give her a way out and let her family live. Tears ran down her face at the sheer awfulness of her situation.

Pembroke switched to Arabic and turned to the two girls. “Right, so you two are going to be trained to be good little sex slaves. Imagine every depravity you can, that is what you will be forced to carry out. Imagine something you pray you will not have to do, ‘anything, oh but not that’ ha! well, you will be doing it. So far, it has been easy compared to how it will go. It is for your own good! Once you leave here, your new owner will be demanding.”

Pembroke turned to smile at little Ayesha again, who was totally oblivious to the horrific scene she was in with her mother just feet away.

“I will have my own seal of quality. My discipline will follow you for the rest of your life. You will be beaten and tortured, by me and by my owner, but you will still perform and if even pain fails, then I will put a lifetime guarantee on you, that if you ever bring shame on my establishment with my new owner, if you act up, refuse some sexual act, or even try to escape, then I will take action against your families!”

Fatima started to cry. “Please, Master, we will do what you want, just please do not…”

“SAMAT!” – Silence. Mrs Al-Haraz was quick to intervene.

“Thank you Mrs Al-Haraz, I think I may be asking you to discipline the girls further for their outbursts after this talk. You see, girls, I own you. And hopefully, soon someone else will own you, after paying me money. Your body and your soul. When you have some old man’s cock down your throat and you are trying to find the motivation to make him cum in you, for the 1000th time, I want you to think of your families.”

Zara and Fatima sobbed miserably.

“Of course” Pembroke grinned “I will not be asking you to do anything that you cannot do. Your tongues are perfectly capable of licking a man’s testicles. Your pussies can accommodate anything the size of a baby. There is no physical reason for you to disobey me. You just have to do as you are told, for the rest of your life. If you embrace it, then perhaps you may have a decent life. Any questions?”

“What about our families? What are you doing to them? How can I stop you?” Zara was pleading.

“Ah Zara, yes, well I know a little about your families. I must thank Jamal for that needlework under your toenails. I am sorry I was not around to witness it!”

Pembroke grinned as he looked at the slight bruising on Zara’s toenails, imperceptible to most, the only sign of the brutal torture Jamal had inflicted on her in order to get details of her family, where they lived in Tripoli and in Paris, and Pembroke was happy to see that there was a long happy extended family he could blackmail the girls with.

“For now, nothing. Well, obviously there was your uncle and Fatma’s husband, but they were just inconveniences. Just remember, I do like Paris, and will always be happy to have a reason for a work trip there!”

“What about … Ayesha…” Fatima stuttered out the words.

“Pembroke had thought of keeping the infant in the compound but reasoned it would be a hassle. He had found a better solution.

“I have found a place for Ayesha, for now. I know a family, seven kids, in a tenement building in Gaziantep. Father is a builder. Poor, but a little money a month will persuade them to add an eight child. Little Ayesha will just be another poor bastard child adopted, don’t worry, for now, she will not be harmed.”

“Please, can you send her back to my family somehow…”

“Haha, Ayesha must have been some swimmer to be the sole survivor of a boat sinking in the middle of the sea! No, sorry, Fatima, everyone on that boat died, including you three. That is what the world thinks, let’s keep it that way. Ayesha will grow up a poor young girl close by but you will never see her again, nor will either of you see your families ever again. And if you behave yourselves, perhaps I will never meet them either!”

Pembroke chuckled at his evil threat. Fatima pondered her options.

“You can kill me, if you just give Ayesha to my family.”

“Fatima, darling, I can kill you any time I want. I want to train you and sell you for money. Incidentally, do you know how much money I think I can get for you?”

Fatima’s tears ran down her face, this monster was inhuman.

“An ordinary worker might pay 40 euro to fuck either of you, is you were just kept in a bedroom as a common whore. Perhaps your pimp could get 10 men a day to fuck you. That’s 400 euros a day, say 300 days a year. That’s 120,000.00 euros a year! For each of you. For a couple of years, minus expenses. So your street value is hundreds of thousands of euros. You cannot pay me that much, and even if you could, I cannot have my operation and identity blown apart, so here you will stay.”

Pembroke continued. “But I intend to make you more than street whores. You will be works of art, a wealthy man will have you as his secret, most prized possession, hidden away, his secret that he smiles about when he addresses captains of industry or politicians or employees. You are very rare, real female sex slaves, completely owned. So, please do not waste your breath in trying to bargain with me. Just remind yourself that the best thing you can do, is keep yourself from being punished and keep your families from harm, by obeying my instructions and everyone I tell you to obey, OK?”

The two girls were sobbing loudly now, their tears splashing off their perky breasts.

“Say goodbye to mummy, Ayesha!” Pembroke mocked Fatima, and made to leave.

“Oh, Mrs Parker, I think the girls need to be punished for their earlier outbursts. I think that in addition to spanking, you can force them to serve you!” He spoke in English, with glee, at the Englishwoman.

Mrs Parker shook herself at hearing the English amid the Arabic. “Yes … yes Master…”

“I will be away but expect this to be done to my satisfaction. Remember where you do it, and when you do it, and tell me later when I see you next. I will be checking the video footage to make sure everything is done properly. Understand, Mrs Parker?”

Mrs Parker gulped. She knew she would have to force herself to dominate these poor girls, facing their own torture, and saying goodbye to Fatima’s daughter.

“NOOOOO … AYESHA!!! NOOO!” Fatima made to run towards the departing Pembroke and the infant, but tripped up as the cord stopped her legs moving too far apart, and she fell on her face. Mrs Al-Haraz came up behind her, laughing, and grabbed her by the hair.

“Get back! Do not disrespect the Master, you bitch!” Mrs Al-Haraz snarled at the crying girl, hauling her back to stand beside her cousin.

Pembroke smiled in the satisfaction that Leyla Al-Haraz was doing her job without having to be ordered and his last look was not at the two ashen-faced girls but at Rebecca Parker, her face in shock and disarray. He gave her a look and a smile and she knew she would have to be like Mrs Al-Haraz or face the consequences.

Fatima watched the departing face of her daughter, helpless, and wondered if she would ever see her again.

Ayesha performed one final task for Pembroke before he carted her off to the poor builder’s family, whom he had gotten to know as the cousin of a corrupt local official.

Ayesha appeared in the background again in another video call with Camille LeClerc. Camille was charmed with the adorable infant playing with Pembroke, or Karim’s floppy hair. Camille suspected nothing untoward about this gay Algerian playing with his niece and looked forward to their movie collaboration.

Pembroke was thrilled with how his own project was going and was looking forward to Camille’s capture.
On the streets of Paris, men and women alike stole glances at Charlotte Spencer, the blonde blue-eyed eighteen-year-old English rose. Fresh from winning the quarter final of a junior tennis tournament, she was brimming with confidence and excitement. Alone in Paris, she sought to savour every moment of her visit, hoping to experience the romance the City of Love promised. The bustling streets and charming cafes of Montparnasse near her hotel called to her, inviting her to explore their hidden gems.

She took as many selfies as she could, hoping she would be making her old school-friends jealous of her glamorous lifestyle. She bit her lip and smiled as she saw the likes her photos of the Eiffel Tower had got her. She laughed at how silly her mother had been to warn her about having an open profile! The poor woman had been worried sick about Charlotte’s solo trip

Charlotte did not have much experience with boys having gone to an all-girls school but had secretly hoped that her Paris trip might open up the possibility of romance. There was that Spanish tennis player, Fernando, her tinder match, Gustav, or Simon, the son of one of her father’s business associates. Her father had meant to accompany her but had been called away on business. She felt sorry her father worked so hard. That last court case against the Azmarian government had left him a nervous wreck, she wished he would slow down.

But it opened up so many possibilities for romance, it was almost a shame her tournament was going so well! Dressed in her sports skirt and jacket, she admired herself in a shop window, sure that she would meet a handsome young man to complete her Paris trip.

Clemence, the distinguished French lawyer in his late forties, recognized her as well. He paused and exclaimed, “Why, is it the young lady from the tennis in London? Valerie’s daughter? Ah, what an enchanting coincidence!”

Charlotte was thrilled at the serendipity and his elegant manner. “Yes! It’s Charlotte! Salut, Monsieur … Carnot?”

“Ha, yes! What brings you to Paris, Charlotte? I am just on my way home.”

“Ah, you live here. It’s a beautiful area!” Charlotte swelled with pleasure as she soaked in the surroundings and smiled at the older man. “I am here for the junior tennis tournament. I just won the quarter-final!”

The older man admired the beautiful young rose and her sense of adventure and wonder at her new surroundings.

“Oh, congratulations! Are you here with your family or friends? My wife and I could invite you to our home for some French cooking!”

“Haha, oh thank you, Monsieur Carnot, but I am here by myself.”

“Ah, that is OK then. I understand. A young lady like you should have adventures here. I hope you enjoy yourself as well as the sport, haha.”

“Merci, Monsieur.” Charlotte smiled, understanding the man would probably not want to invite a single young girl to his home to meet his wife. She blushed at the thought that the glamorous Russian woman she had met at the lunch in London might be jealous of her.

“Oh, tell you what, Charlotte, I recall you mentioned an interest in law. Why don’t you come by my office sometime for lunch? You can see what an international firm looks like!”

Charlotte was thrilled. This was something she could show on Instagram, and it might help her. International Paris law firm? “Of course,” she blushed again.

“Please, take my card, and we can arrange something this week!” he smiled. “I must be off now; my wife has prepared some escargots du vin. She is expecting our first child!”

“Oh, congratulations!” beamed Charlotte. “I will get in touch!”

Charlotte walked away with a spring in her step. Truly, Paris was a city where anything could happen! She walked with a little more flair, drawing more admiring glances, talking up the steps to her hotel not minding that her underwear was clearly visible to the gawking Japanese businessmen below.

Plenty of vain gay men answered the advertisement for extras for a beach party movie in Marseille. Karim Al-Faraj had spent more time than he cared for responding to excited questions when all he was worried about was attracting a prospective director, Camille LeClerc, to a meeting.

Camille was thrilled and enjoyed chatting with the gay guys online. She was looking forward to partying with them after the shoot!

A few days later, Charlotte Spencer found herself walking along a less salubrious part of Paris. Despite her outward appearance, she was feeling slightly down; she had lost the semi-final of the tennis tournament. The disappointment weighed heavily on her, but Miguel, her handsome admirer who had made it through to the mens final, had invited her to dinner tonight. The thought of spending the evening with him thrilled her. Her black dress was for him, and she hoped it was not too revealing for her current appointment, at Clemence Carnot’s law firm “Duval et Fils.” She was looking forward to learning about the workings of an international law firm.

Clement had been very busy and the communication was sparing but she was excited and felt so smart and professional, imagining herself as the consummate young female lawyer in Paris. But the reality was very different. She was in a run-down neighbourhood and was getting a lot of lecherous stares.

The sign above the door said “Duval & Fils” but it was a small accounting company above a coffee shop, flanked by a mobile phone shop. It was nothing like the Duval & Fils from Clemence’s business card, the website, or Google.

Confused, she checked the address Clemence had sent her on WhatsApp, and it matched the location she was at. Just then, her phone rang. It was Clemence.

Charlotte, where are you?” he asked, concern evident in his voice.

“Clemence, I am outside Duval & Fils, but I think I am at the wrong one! This one is in La Goutte d’Or,” Charlotte replied.

“Oh Charlotte! I am so sorry! I must have sent you the wrong address! I apologize … you must come to the real Duval & Fils in central Paris! This is my fault, I am so sorry. I’ve had a difficult case today … but wait, let me get you an Uber immediately. That area is not safe for a young lady like you … just give me a minute…”

Charlotte was relieved and giggled to herself at the mix-up. She waited for the Uber, feeling a sense of adventure even in the mishap. She thought of her father and his absent-mindedness, recognising it in Carnot. A car came around the corner, its number plate matching Clemence’s message confirming the booking, and she waved.

The driver was a smiling black man, introducing himself as Kwame. Charlotte tried to adjust her dress, and crossed her legs, mindful of showing her knickers to the driver. She looked out the window at the working class streets relieved that she was being whisked to the real Duval & Fils. She thought of mentioning this to her mum in a message, but decided against it, she did not want to make her mother worry. She checked herself in the mirror, her flawless face and her blonde hair was still in perfect condition. She smiled as the central Paris skyline beckoned.

Charlotte felt a little put out that Clemence had chosen a cheaper Uber option, but agreed with a nod. Used to the best, she had high standards and hoped Clemence would make up for his mistake with a nice lunch and an impressive showing at his firm.

She was a little weary of her dress now and tried pulling it down. Her driver kept stealing glances, though she was a little flattered she was looking forward to mixing with more upper class people again.

The car slowed down, and a man approached and opened the door at a quiet side road. Charlotte noticed a suited man with grey hair, a hat and sunglasses get in. She gave him a quick discreet look and smile then turned back into her own world. As the taxi took off again, she went back to her phone. She was engrossed in her notifications and didn’t notice her fellow passenger pulling out a taser.

Suddenly, the man leaned closer, and before Charlotte could react, he pressed the taser against her side, delivering a sharp, electric shock. Pain surged through her body, and everything went dark as she slipped into unconsciousness.

All good, Mr. Pembroke?” Kwame asked his boss. Pembroke smiled and took off his glasses, revealing his true self under the wig. “Yes, Kwame. We have our first little fish. Keep driving, and I will have her tied up and hidden.”

Kwame laughed as he continued to drive through the quieter parts of Paris. Pembroke, now showing his true face, worked quickly and efficiently. He tied Charlotte’s wrists and ankles more securely and placed a cloth over her mouth to muffle any sounds.

The following morning, at a secluded beach, Camille LeClerc was goofing around with four gay guys. She was excited to be part of a project with these exuberant gay French Algerians. They were all waiting for Karim Al-Faraj.

Karim Al-Faraj arrived breathless, a sense of urgency in his movements. “Sorry I’m late! I had to make some last-minute arrangements,” he explained, catching his breath. He was exhausted having travelled all night, and his he had cuts on his hands from being scratched and bitten by a desperate English teenager.

“No worries, Karim! We were just having some fun,” Camille replied with a smile.

The two greeted each other and made some small talk. “Perfect,” Karim said, scanning the beach. “Hey, I have a fun idea. Camille, why don’t you go out into the water a bit and take some photos of the guys from there? It’ll give us some great shots for the project.” Karim handed her a waterproof camera. “Trust me, the perspective will be amazing from the water.”

Camille was a little alarmed at the stormy waters and the rocks, but accepted. Karim stared at her in her pink gym shorts and bra. Her bare feet carefully traced the rocks as she waded out, like a gymnast would.

He was confident that no one could see Camille, only him and the four extras. As she positioned herself in the water, Karim subtly activated a remote voice machine hidden in a nearby cave. A faint but distinct sound of someone calling for help echoed from the cave.

The four extras turned towards the cave, puzzled and concerned. “Did you hear that?” one of them asked. “It sounds like someone needs help.”

“Let’s go check it out,” another suggested. They all started making their way towards the cave, their curiosity piqued.

Karim followed them, he looked back at Camille, who was watching from far out on the edge of the rocks, up to her thighs in water, puzzled. What were they looking for?

Suddenly, Camille noticed a lifeguard, furiously beckoning her to come in. He was a short, African looking man. Camille had seen the men going into the cave, and on the other side of the rocks was the lifeguard. The lifeguard was insistent, but was not shouting, just waving her to come in. Camille ventured in padding over the rocks.

Karim watched nervously as Camille walked back over the rocks, while the four men continued looking for the sources of the cries. As soon as she was out of his sight, he went into the cave and charged ahead of the men. He spotted the speaker and pocketed it.

Camille watched the Lifeguard approach her, holding out his hand for her. He seemed to be looking around for others, but there was no one else on the beach at all. She could not see the others now, she was out of their sight line, they were around the rocks and inside the cave. She really wanted to see what had happened.

“Excuse me sir, what is the matter? My friends are over there…”

The lifeguard grabbed her with one hand, and held a taser to her stomach with the other. Camille was stunned and fell onto the rocks. Kwame failed to catch her, and she banged her head. Kwame urgently picked her up, and carried her hurriedly across the beach. He looked around but saw no one. He sprinted across the sand, carrying the unconscious girl up the slopes and towards his waiting van. Breathless, he dumped her in the back, and speedily trussed her up and gagged her. He composed himself, and rewarded himself with stroking her legs, from her feet up her legs and thighs and squeezed the hard flesh of her buttocks under the pink shorts.

“Camille!” Kwame suddenly heard a shout from the beach. He slipped forward to the drivers seat of the van and noticed some of the men had come on to the beach and on the rocks, their attention on the sea, and were calling out. He discreetly started the engine, and drove across the sand until he joined the road and sped up.

Amidst the confusion and noise of the waves, none of the men noticed the van parked at the top of the sand slopes nor it driving off. Instead, Karim and the men, having finally given up searching for voices in the cave, began looking for Camille. Curiosity turned to desperation as they failed to find her, and then one of the men found the camera being washed up on the rocks.

“Oh no, Camille, where is she? She may have slipped!” Karim was swimming out with the rest of the men, calling her name, and searching around, desperately. He was praying that Kwame had done his job well.

The men called the police and lifeguard, while Karim tearfully admitted he was an illegal immigrant and was terrified of getting in trouble. He said he wanted to swim out one last time, near the cave. Except this time, he swam and did not come back. He went onto the beach on the other side of the cave, picking up his phone and belongings and ran towards the road and his hidden bicycle, and cycled as far as he could while texting Kwame.

Kwame doubled back, and met Karim, or Pembroke on the road. Pembroke threw his bicycle into the back of the van beside the black bag holding the tied up girl, and he joined Kwame in the front seat. Both men quickly threw off their tops and put on white T shirts and hi viz jackets and baseball caps as they drove back towards Marseille. On route, they met police cars, their sirens blazing.

Pembroke gave Kwame a pat on the back. “That was superb, Kwame. But they will soon be looking for Karim Al-Faraj. We need to get to the boat and we need to get our two little pussies out onto the sea by this evening!”

Meanwhile, Rebecca Parker and Leyla Al-Haraz were together in Rebecca’s cell. Mrs Al-Haraz enjoyed dressing up, having had the chance for the first time in her life, and was now in a long, flimsy black dress. The dress had daring slits on both sides and the front, barely covering her crotch, and revealing a thin black thong. Her toned small body stood and leaned over the cowering and seated body of Mrs Parker.

“Mrs Parker. You my slave.” She leered at the blond woman, dressed in nothing but white bra and pants. “You eat my pussy NOW!”

“I am not your slave! I am an overseer!” Mrs Parker quivered in fear and winced at the sight of Mrs Al-Haraz’s hideous face and the scaly side of her head. She did not see the slap coming, and despite having superior weight and height could not get the upper hand, as Mrs Al-Haraz wrestled her to the ground. Mrs Al-Haraz pinned her wrists down, and moved her crotch up over her face. “Lick me. Bitch. Lick me!”

Mrs Parker cried and shook her head, but only received more slaps to the face from the angry Yemeni woman. “Lick me, Slave!”

Mrs Parker relented, stopped struggling, and gazed up at the black material on top of her face, and the half human half mutant face above it. She stuck her tongue out, and ran it across the cotton, tasting the sour taste of pussy through it. “More! Stronger! Lick!”

Mrs Parker continued to lick. Mrs Al-Haraz pulled her thong to one side, exposting the full sight and smell of her musky pussy lips on the Englishwoman’s face as she continued to eat, teasing. She thought of her life, and how this mutant above her had embraced it. She remembered enjoying doing this, to girls when she was young. She told herself that now she had no choice. She brought her hands to the Yemeni woman’s hips, feeling the soft skin, a contrast to the side of her face, and sucked and licked harder on her pussy, chewing on her clit.

Mrs Al-Haraz smiled in ecstasy and rubbed her nipples as she felt the woman’s tongue work inside her and over her clit. She rubbed the blonde hair, admiring the fine strands, before cumming inside Mrs Parker’s mouth.

“Hmm, you are good. You do this, to the other girls. OK?” Mrs Al-Haraz lowered her face to Mrs Parker’s, whose eyes widened at the burnt face coming closer. But she closed her eyes and opened her mouth to received the deformed woman’s tongue, kissing her back. Giggling, Mrs Al-Haraz got up, and left to go back to her own cell, which was much more spacious and comfortable.

The next morning, Mrs Parker notified Jamal that she needed to “discipline” the girls. Jamal was intrigued and allowed her access to the girls’ cell. Mrs Parker ordered them out to a portion of the hall covered in gym mats. The two girls had known Mrs Parker as having some kindness, and some empathy from being beaten herself, her whip marks visible around her clothes.

But today, Mrs Parker was different. She was in her black PVC skirt, and boots. “Girls. Today I punish you.” “Please, Mrs Parker, he is not here, you do not have to…” But Mrs Parker was aware of the cameras above. She lashed out at Fatima with an open hand, knocking her to the ground.

“No more talk!” The Englishwoman was emotionally charged, thinking of her children, her ruined reputation, her kidnapping, the threats from her horrible captor, her treatment from Mrs Al-Haraz. “Fatima, you lie down NOW! Zara, you sit on your cousin’s face NOW!”

“What? Rebecca, you know us, you don’t have to do this, please…”

“Bitches!” Mrs Parker turned her heart to stone, and began striking both girls with a small stick. “Obey me. Obey Master Pembroke. Obey Mrs A-Haraz!”

Both girls were naked, as they had been kept since arriving. They cowered under the hits from Mrs Parker, until Fatima relented and lay down on her back. “Now, Zara, sit on her face, or I keep hitting her!”

Zara had faced brutal treatment from the men and Mrs Al-Haraz but had thought of them as vicious animals. Seeing Mrs Parker’s kind face twist into rage and anger broke her heart. This was truly a place of evil.

Zara crouched down, keeping her eyes on the contorted raging face of Mrs Parker, until she felt her pussy lips meet the nose of her cousin. “Now, Fatima, Lick!”

Fatima knew what was expected of her by now. She tried to close her eyes but still caught sight of her own cousin’s asshole and pussy coming close to her face. She wanted to throw up, she had not even given her husband oral sex before, now she was being forced to kiss and lick the genitalia of her own female cousin, someone she had known and was close to all her life.

Zara’s musky sweet smell pervaded her nose and mouth as she sat down. Fatima could barely breathe but to inhale the air through her cousin’s puffy lips. She began licking, watching with horror and fascination at her cousin’s vibrating brown asshole, centimetres from her eyes. She had never even seen hard core pornography, or even seen examined her own anus in the mirror and was horrified and repulsed at the sight.

The torture games went on. The cousins were forced to kiss, then to lick Mrs Parker’s pussy. “If you don’t lick me, girls, I will have to give you a beating. I don’t want to, I just want you to obey me and take the punishment that Master Pembroke ordered for you.”

Zara and Fatima endured hours of humiliation and disgusting lesbian sex. So the only remaining humanlike creature was just as capable of disgusting actions and horrible behaviour. Fatima had watched with horror and disbelief as the previously kindly blonde woman had licked her own cousin’s asshole like it was ice cream. Maybe she was being forced to do this, but she loved it. She loved girls and enjoyed the bodies of the Al-Tayeb girls just as much as the men.

Mrs Parker enjoyed the sense of domination and the sight of the terror in the girls’ eyes did something to her. The little bit of power gave her just that piece of self respect. As the finished, she looked back over the beautiful bodies of the girls and felt good that she could have them anytime she wanted. There was no point in denying herself some pleasure, if it would save her life and that of her family.

The real Clemence Carnot was a private person, who had refused to put his photo on the website of his company, Duval & Fils. But he was still a respected lawyer of close to seventy, and so was shocked when the police turned up at his offices, to question him about the disappearance of Charlotte Spencer. He was quickly released without charge, but the Paris police were baffled about the disappearance of the young tennis star.

Likewise, the police were puzzled about the disappearance in Marseille of Camille LeClerc. Drowning was suspected, but the four men who had been questioned had maintained the had never seen her go into the water, and could not explain the voices from the cave. And no one could trace Karim Al-Faraj, or his movie project, which seemed to have been abandoned as the man himself had vanished into thin air.
The Zephyr cut a fine shape as it raced across the Mediterranean, its sleek lines slicing through the waves with ease. Onboard, there were only two crew members: Kwame at the helm, expertly navigating the vessel, and Edward Pembroke, gazing out to sea with a triumphant feeling, like a pirate of old. The wind whipped through his hair as he stood at the bow, the vast expanse of the ocean stretching out before him.

The compartment in the yacht had been modified. The bottom of the compartment was clear glass and the two terrified occupants of the tiny space could see into the dark sea for the entirety of their journey. It could slide open at any moment at a press of a button in the cabin, and the large stone attached by chains to the ankles of the two girls left them in no doubt that if were to open, they would plummet straight to the bottom of the sea.

For Pembroke, it was a precaution. If a coastguard or nosy authority crossed their path he had only to press the button and his precious but incriminating cargo would soon be deep in the depths leaving him in the clear. He hoped it would not be necessary, he was looking forward to getting the two girls into more comfortable surroundings in the compound.

Kwame had been frustrated. Unlike his rape-fest with Mrs Parker he was not allowed to stick his cock into either Camille LeClerc or Charlotte Spencer, having to content himself with running his hands and tongue over their shaking, nervous bodies when he took them out for air, and masturbating on their skin.

The girls spent most of their time gagged, other than to eat. Questions had been met with slaps to the face from Kwame, Pembroke simply ignored them. Each time he looked down into the compartment or ran his own hands over the beauties on the deck, he saw the confusion, panic and fear in their blue eyes. Charlotte could not believe that Clemence Carnot had kidnapped her, the man at the London tennis lunch, flirting with her mother, bumping into her in Paris, was not pawing at her lecherously and speaking with a pompous English accent. Camille was stunned that the man she had thought of as a gay friendly creative was a firmly heterosexual predator who had taken her away from everything she knew. As the girls started out at the vastness of the sea on their ventures, flinching from the rough hands enjoying their bodies, they could only guess with horror what the next stage would be. They joined foreheads in the tiny compartment, staring into each others’ eyes, their gags and strict bondage preventing them from speaking or touching hands despite being so tightly packed together.

Mrs Parker had started to give in to her inner cravings. She had been watching Fatima, feeling kinship with a woman separated from her children, but surveying her flesh with pleasure. The Al-Tayab girls had not worn clothes for weeks now and barely tried to hide themselves.

“Master Pembroke commands we make love. We must do it, better for us both!” Mrs Parker did not want to force herself on the girls, she just wanted them to understand the reality. Fatima and Zara tolerated her presence but refused any sexual advances unless forced.

With Mrs Al-Haraz, they were afforded no niceties. Both girls were forced to lick her pussy on threat of being beaten. Fatima forced herself to do it to stop Zara being beaten, but Zara just could not take it. She had slapped Mrs Al-Haraz, and kicked Mrs Parker, suffering a severe beating as a result. Jamal had raped her hard and tied her up for Mrs Al-Haraz to administer more punishment. Jamal and Mrs Al-Haraz developed a strange asexual relationship, neither being interested in the other, but taking pleasure in seeing the other enact their fantasies on both the Libyan girls and on Mrs Parker.

Mrs Parker was very skilled with her tongue, and was able to make Jamal, Mrs Al-Haraz and the two Libyans cum all within hours of each other. She kept thinking back to her online fantasies. This had been what she had dreamt of and now this was reality, having left behind a destroyed family life. She had no choice but to enjoy it.

Zara had been a virgin and had never seen another naked woman or man until being kidnapping. The constant sex and the humiliating forced sex between her and her cousin was driving her crazy making it impossible for her to have any serious conversation with Fatima.

“Zara, darling, this is hell. I know, my husband is dead, my daughter is God knows where, our uncle, all those men, dead, and these animals are torturing us. But this is just to survive. When we get out of here, we will forget it. I promise.”

But Zara knew she would never forget. She was not meant to do this. Her cousin’s vagina, and asshole, in her mouth. Licking the feet of the odious Yemeni woman. The blonde Englishwoman, kissing her, forcing her tongue inside her. The deformed Syrian giant, forcing his cock inside her, where only her future husband should be. This was hell, her life would never be what she wanted. Maybe it would get worse. She was not born to be a slave, and her physical attacks on her overseers were not dimmed by the threats on her family.

Eventually, things came to a head when she bit on Jamal’s cock during oral sex. The enraged Syrian punched her in the face, breaking her nose. He would have killed her, but knew that nothing should be done until Master Pembroke returned.

“Zara! Are you OK, Oh my God, what did that monster do to you?”

“He broke my fucking nose. Fatima, I no longer want to live. I just want to kill that bastard, that Pembroke. When he gets back, I will think of something, don’t care if they torture me afterwards.”

“For God’s sake Zara, be careful!”

“They are going to sell us, as whores! We might be separated! I would rather kill him and end this operation before other girls are hurt.”

Fatima admired her cousin’s courage but wanted to remind her she did not have a daughter at the monster’s mercy. She went to hug her cousin, and their breasts mashed together. Zara returned the hug tentatively. She smelled her cousin’s skin, and the memory of sucking and licking her skin all over on command came over her, and she pushed Fatima away.

“Zara, don’t be like that, I don’t want to do it either, but we have to…”

“You cum every time I lick you. You like it.”

Fatima blushed and the two huddled in opposite sides of the cell. She could not help it, her body betrayed her. But she did not want to be here. Like Zara, she wanted that animal dead, her family safe and these freaks to be sent to prison before she became like them. The haunted looking blonde Englishwoman seemed to her what she might be like in 20 years if she surrendered to this sexual degradation, but what choice did she have?

To much fanfare, Edward Pembroke arrived in the combine with his red and blonde headed captives. He, Kwame and Jamal had a celebratory whiskey in front of the naked and bound girls as they prepared to bring them into the interior hangar, out of which none of the females would be allowed until or unless they were sold on, or their bodies be disposed of.

“My, my, Charlotte, you must have been thinking you were going to have a romantic liaison in Paris. You shaved your pussy!”

Charlotte blushed, though by now she had spent days naked, having had her toilet activities monitored and cleaned by Kwame. Pembroke ran his finger over the weeks old stubble as the helpless girls stood, her ankles bound, her wrists tied behind her back, and her mouth still gagged. “Still quite sparse. I suppose it makes you aerodynamic for the tennis. Sorry again for your defeat, I suppose though you thought you might meet some men in Paris instead of getting to the final, maybe your horniness was your undoing in the semi final!”

Charlotte just wanted the rape to happen now, to get it over with. Fingers and hands had invaded very square inch of her body. This had been her worst nightmare, but she was still shocked when she realised how pre-planned it must have been. The sleazy cruel eyes of ‘Edward Pembroke’ were those of the lawyer she had foolishly imagined as being part of the top crust of society. Now, she was entirely at the mercy of this mysterious pervert.

Camille cursed herself for not taking more precautions for her shoot with Karim. The black man, Kwame, why had she just wandered straight to him, and what had happened? She only remembered being helped over the rocks, and then waking up bound in the back of a van in darkness. Like Charlotte, she had been pawed at and humiliated, having her orifices cleaned and wiped by the man who had kidnapped her. She was shocked that the nice open man she thought she could help had been preying on her the whole time! She wondered about the blonde girl, when could she speak with her, alone? What did they want? Surely they did not just want to rape her?

“Mr Pembroke, can we fuck these girls, ever?” asked Jamal.

“Not for now, Jamal, sorry. I include myself in that!” He spoke in Arabic, and the girls did not understand. “These are girls picked out by a customer. I think the blonde may be a virgin. No offence, Jamal but your cock is huge, it will change their holes, change their value to the customer!” Pembroke giggled and put his finger between Charlotte’s legs, causing the blond to squirm. “I will take a view, perhaps, their assholes may be suitable for your cocks, those holes heal more easily, and can be just as tight and nice! And their mouths, once they have been told what is expected of them.”

“Thanks Mr Pembroke, you are the best!” winked Jamal.

“Now, I think these two girls should be introduced to Zara and Fatima and we can have all four prisoners together. It is starting to be a real prison in here now!”

Charlotte and Camille were led into the cell with the two shocked Libyan girls, and they were released from their gags and binds and all four girls were left naked, together.

Pembroke called in Mrs Parker to his little office. “Ah, Rebecca, or Mrs Parker, I need to call you! How have you been, during my absence.?”

Mrs Parker swallowed, intimidated by this animal who had kidnapped, trafficked, blackmailed, tortured, raped and imprisoned her. “Good, Master Pembroke. I did what you asked, and the girls have settled in well.”

“Well, Zara has been disobedient, Jamal has informed me. That broken nose will affect her sale value. I am not pleased with her. But, let us check your punishment of them. Can you remember the time and location you punished them? I can check right now.”

Mrs Parker swallowed again. “Master Pembroke, it was the day after you left, sorry I do not know the days down here. It was at 8.16pm, I saw the clock, by camera 5. I also punished the girls on other occasions, I can give you the times and locations…”

“Let’s just check this one first, my darling” Pembroke went through the cameras on his computer, then brought up a video. He watched it, and listened to the audio. As he saw Mrs Parker admonish the Libyans he smiled and ran his hand up Mrs Parker’s skirt, massaging her meaty globes.

“Hmmmm … this is really good Mrs Parker. Those girls look really frightened of you. Hmm why don’t you suck my cock while I check out your performance. Oh … This is your chance to cheat, you are so good with your tongue, I might let you off if you make me cum…”

Mrs Parker left nothing to chance, she lathered her tongue all over the monster’s balls and his taint, straining her tongue to get it into his asshole under the seat Pembroke was sitting in. She had complied with his demands, had forced the girls to lick every inch of her body, but had to cover all bases.

Pembroke came in her mouth before the video ended, just as he watched a tearful Fatima be forced to dip her head between her cousin’s ass cheeks by Mrs Parker’s determined hand. “Oh … that is very good work Mrs Parker. I am so glad that you are getting into it! I am quite fond of you my darling…” he reached his hand down and groped her generous breasts. “You can have quite a nice life down here with me. You just have to embrace it, I know you want to!”

Charlotte and Camille finally got to talk in the little glass prison cell in the corner of the cavernous hangar. They were naked, next to two Arab girls, also naked, who looked at the new arrivals, nervously.

“Oh my God, what happened! What the fuck, it’s been days. Were you kidnapped in France?”

“I’m Charlotte, I’m English. I was in Paris, I knew that guy in London and then met him in Paris! He pretended to be some lawyer, he met my mother! The bastard, he tricked me into a taxi in Paris, and took me here…!”

“He pretended to be some gay film director … my God…”

The two girls gossiped, forgetting their nakedness, their lithe torsos and breasts quivering with anger and excitement as they spoke about their misfortunes. They tried to talk with the two Arab girls in limited English.

“We are kidnapped, the women, they bad. The men, they evil!” The two white girls frightened themselves looking at the resigned and scared looking expressions on the girls, including the broken nose and bruises on the younger Arab girl.

Charlotte had never been naked in front of someone before, she held her arms over her breasts and crossed her legs, as did Camille. She thought of herself just a few days ago, a confident young woman competing at the highest level, dreaming of an international legal career, and now she was a naked prisoner, soon to be raped by a bunch of creepy degenerates. Camille was thinking much the same. All her plans, the clothes she had bought, the friends, the contacts, the projects, the parties, all gone by the wayside. Instead, she was naked, as only a few boys had found her. She thought of her family. What must they be thinking? Was anyone looking for her?

“Ah ladies!” Edward Pembroke appeared in front of the cell, followed by Mrs Parker, wearing a short purple dress. “I think it is time to tell you a few hard truths.”

“What the fuck, Karim, are whatever the fuck your name is!” Camille was furious. Pembroke glanced at Mrs Parker, and she knew what she had to do.

“You will be quiet when Master Pembroke speaks to you!” commanded Mrs Parker. Camille was surprised at the woman silencing her. “Master Pembroke is in charge here. You do not speak unless you are specifically told to speak!”

Pembroke smiled and gently massaged Mrs Parker’s buttocks under her dress. “Thank you Mrs Parker! Now ladies, yes, you must really control yourselves. You are not free young women anymore. You are prisoners. You are … slaves.”

“Karim, I don’t know what the fuck you think you are…”

“Silence! Bitches like you do NOT interrupt Master Pembroke!” Mrs Parker barked at the naked girl in the cell. Pembroke was pleasantly surprised, and kissed the blond woman on her head.

“Camille, please pay heed to Mrs Parker here. You must not speak freely. You will be punished. Your old world, where you could do what you want, when you wanted, as a young woman, that is now gone. Now we are in a more … natural order. You are restricted, as are you Ms Spencer. You are pretty young girls, the objects of desire of thousands of men, and now you are to be trained, both of you, to be the objects of one powerful man. Other than I and my male accomplices that you have met, and your future owner, you will never see another man again. You will only see those few lucky men, and a few females who share the same fate as you.”

Pembroke smiled at the shocked faces. “You can ask your cellmates. You are beautiful highly prized females. A lot of money will pass hands for you. You have been pre-ordered, as it were. A lot of planning went into taking both of you. You will never see your families and friends again, ever. You are now dead as far as the rest of the world knows. The rest of your lives, instead of parties and weddings and children, will be that of sexually satisfying some of the most select males on the planet, in terms of their wealth.”

“I want to go home! Mr Carnot! It’s not too late…”

“It IS too late Camille. Home for you is not an option. In fact, it is a weapon which I will soon explain. Look, girls, a lot of work went into your kidnapping. You will never see home again. I, on the other hand, may well see your home, if only to punish YOU for your misdeeds.”

Camille and Charlotte stared at this maniac.

“Now ladies, you are the first products of my own high value slave trading enterprise.” Pembroke raised his arms as if to emphasis the theatrics of his presentation. “There are thousands of incredibly wealthy men, who are horny and want to fuck, enslave, hurt and imprison hot young girls, not just fuck prostitutes and party girls.” Pembroke was getting to his element.

“I aim to provide a market for these gentlemen. Ladies like yourselves. Beautiful, pure, young, of good stock, trained to submit to whatever disgusting desires these men have, that can be hidden away from the world. Not whores that any other man will have, little pure jewels that can be kept in a little pocket, hidden away from the world. Hidden from their own families. Imagine, Charlotte, a sixty year old man, enjoying your body, knowing that your own father, a respected sixty year old lawyer, is grieving over you! Imagine the power that will put into the soul of a rich old man!”

Charlotte was horrified. She crossed her legs tighter, trying to hide as much of her breasts as possible.

“Charlotte! You must know every man you have met wanted to fuck you, to see you naked! Now, one man gets to realise all those dreams! Not your husband, no, but some old man with enough money to buy you! Unlike a husband, he owns you! He can end your fucking life any second he wants to!” Pembroke was so excited now, he was lost in the thrill of the dream he was selling, not to these unfortunate girls, but to their buyers.

“You are the kind of girl that most men would fight over for the chance to pay a thousand dollars for a meal with. One man, will buy your life, and will seal all those other avenues off, for the other men. Charlotte, you are a human, but you are so fucking valuable!”

He turned to Camille. “Camille, you too! You are going to be owned, body and soul. Don’t worry I will train you. You will satisfy your owner, it will be overriding duty of your life.”

Pembroke paused and smiled wickedly.

“You both come from loving families. That is to the credit of your parents, but unfortunately, I am going to use it against you. You see, your performance here will not be paid for, it will be demanded, on pain of physical punishment on you personally, and ultimately, when all else fails, your families will be targeted if you fail in your new duties. Charlotte, your darling mother, Valerie is devastated at your disappearance. Camille, your father is beside himself at your drowning. Please, do not force me to bring more death to your families!”

“Please, Mr Carnot…”

“I am not Clemence Carnot, you silly bitch!” Pembroke was a little annoyed at how slow these girls where. “Look, someone wanted you, so I kidnapped you, to sell to them, and now I am training you!”

Charlotte, in spite of everything, was taken aback at the language.

“Charlotte, I played you a pretty little picture, but it was all to get you here, naked. I thought about what you would look like, naked, since the second I met you. As did you future owner. Speak to your cellmates here … they will tell you what life is like from here on. No more tennis, no more movies, no more career, no more handsome boys. You will be licking each other’s pussies soon, just to please us!”

The Libyan girls watched the white girls, noting their horror, remembering their own horror stories.

“Men will pay a lot of money for a beautiful young thing they can do ANYTHING with, fuck, kill, hell, even eat! Not a hooker, not a hanger on, there are billons of people in the world, and yet it is so hard for wealthy people to own another human, like they are nothing! I will provide that service. The most stunning high value girls, reduced to nothing for these men. You two, last week, you were out of anyone’s league, you were things 99.9% of men could only dream of. Now, you are products that a lucky man with the right money will own. Everything you thought you would have, or would do, is gone, it’s gonna be converted to the sexual pleasure of some man who is going to make me rich.”

Pembroke smiled again taking a break from his tirade. “You girls can forget about that stuff you learned about womens rights and education and consent. Your life is going to be cock sucking, taking it in every hole, using your tongue on every little thing you can find, you are sex slaves!”

Pembroke smiled again at Mrs Parker. “Now, soon we will have a competition between these two Libyan girls. Mrs Parker, I hope you win…”

Mrs Parker gulped. Pembroke had told her of the plans. It was disgusting and cruel, but entirely in keeping with how this operation was unfolding.

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By Edward Pembroke #Abuse #Rape #Teen #Virgin